 
The Emerald Orbs

Patrick Bowron

The Emerald Orbs

Published by Patrick Bowron

Copyright 2018 Patrick Bowron

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Chapter 1: Memories in a Dream

The frigid wind blew its cold breath down in a sweeping path from the tall peaks of the Mountains of Darkness at the World's End. The wind twirled the grass that lined the North Road coming out of lands unknown to the habitants of Stirlyn and sent small animals scurrying back to their nests and dens. The leaves had turned and many had fallen. The leaves that fell descended like golden-red wafers and were caught in the unseen tide and swept away to form swirling cyclones.

A group of four adventurers moved slowly northward on the old road that had fallen into to ruin this far south due to its lack of use. They were mismatched and strange and carried gear of war and combat, and by the looks of the equipment it seemed that it had seen much use. Their journey had been a long one, and their tales many. But they thought nothing of that. Their thoughts focused on only reaching the forest a few miles before them, that they might find shelter from the wind before the setting of the Starsun.

There were no sounds save only the howling of the wind, the shifting of fallen leaves, and the crunching stone from boots on the ruined road. Shadows began to shade the land. For the travelers were between the ice covered grim peaks of the Mountains of Darkness and the flank of East Lannerdan Forest that now stood higher than the sinking Starsun in the west. Darkness was growing.

"The Starsun sets," said Zain Lamtred, a rough and grizzled dwarf. "We must hurry if we still wish to make camp in those dark woods."

With his words barely out of his mouth, the Starsun shed its last true strong rays of light for the day, the upper bows of the trees seemed if their orange leaves burned with fire before they faded and were again shadowed.

"We would have been there sooner if your legs weren't stunted," quipped Jase Zalendar, a young dark haired rogue with a poor excuse for a mustache.

"Bah! Shut your mouth, Jase. You whine more than you walk and you walk more than you fight. If I had never seen a gold coin before then I would have never seen you," Zain retorted. He rubbed his head and his gear rattled. He was old, tired, and hungry and did not want to listen to Jase's verbal assaults until he was at least fed and off his feet.

Jase snickered to himself, knowing he had gotten under the cleric's skin. He rubbed the hilt of the rapier at his side and was lost momentarily in some fanciful duel against mighty opponents from deep dungeons. He slew dark elves and goblins and was rewarded by kisses from princesses and hordes of gold from their kingly fathers. His fantasy ended quickly though, for in the growing darkness he had missed his step and tripped on a rock.

"Will you two stay off each other's necks?" Dagen Vrance growled.

The blue skinned warrior from Snowfell glared back at them. His sapphire ice eyes gleamed with irritation even in the fading light. His armor was thick and broad. The plates of hard metal were dented from many campaigns, but the helm upon his head was as flawless as the day it came out of the forge. For no enemy had come that close to slaying him, the last of a fallen tribe.

Dagen scratched his blue thick beard that contained flakes of permanent ice. Looking to his left he conversed with the other dwarf of the traveling party. A dwarf of two hundred winters named Sarik Moonwater was the father figure to Dagen Vrance. Sarik had raised Dagen since he was young. While tracking a great foe of his people, Sarik had pulled Dagen out from amongst the slain and frozen bodies of his kin, setting the young boy's path to righteousness and will for victory over all things spawned from the Shadow.

"Master Moonwater," Dagen started, "what do you think of this forest up ahead?" Sarik Moonwater looked back to the barbarian that towered above him and studied him with old grizzled dwarf eyes. There was no worry in Dagen Vrance's voice and with his dark vision he could see that Dagen stood as still as stone, wishing only to hear the opinion of his mentor and adopted father. Sarik turned his gaze back to the forest that was only a few hundred meters before them now.

"I sense no more ill in there than most of the other dark places we have visited," Sarik said turning a sarcastic grinning face back to Dagen. Dagen returned a similar grin to Sarik, though the dwarf knew the snow barbarian could not see his face. "But I know not these lands. Any evil may lurk there or maybe it is the home of wood elves, but I suppose we will find out the answers before long. Now let's hurry up and get there and get out of this blasted wind," Sarik finished, picking up the pace.

Dagen knew his master did not abide well with the overworld. Forests did him better than open plains, but what Sarik needed was to be inside great Dwarven halls or mines in the tall mountains. Dungeons suited him too, for he was a disciple of Achaines, the God of War, and loved to clear out evil dwellings with the sharp blade of his axe. Sarik had spent the first one hundred and fifty of his two hundred years of life in the fabled Mines of Kanazar, part of the great Dwarven stronghold in the Mountainous Sea the land to the south of Snowfell, Dagen's home, before the mines were broken by the great war with the dark elves.

The four travelers continued on and soon came under the open archway of branches that hung over the decrepit and overgrown road. Sarik called Zain forward, and together the two dwarves helped lead the barbarian and rogue deeper into the forest. They walked slowly for about another hundred meters then took off the path to make camp in area nestled with tall pine trees.

"This will make good enough shelter from the wind," Zain said. Then after a moment of thought he turned to Jase. Zain could see in the dark that Jase was rubbing the hilt of his rapier and had that worried face he always carried when he thought danger could strike out from anywhere. Zain smiled and said, "Jase go collect some fire wood and rocks for a pit."

"But I can't see anything," Jase protested, an edge of fear hinting in his voice. "Why can't you do it? You're the one who can see in the dark."

"You'll do it," Zain retorted, "or you will be warming your own dinner up."

In the dark Zain watched Jase glower at him, but then wiped the look off his face when he remembered the old dwarf could see him. Then he turned slowly and stumbled out into the dark to search for wood and rocks.

"Well, let's get settled," Sarik said. His words were followed by clunks of equipment hitting the ground as the band of heroes removed their armor and weapons from their bodies and backs.

Twenty minutes later Jase returned with the supplies for the fire. He brought them into the middle of the camp and dumped them saying, "I collected everything. Someone else can make the pit." Jase threw up his hands in defiance.

"I'll take care of it," Dagen said to the rogue, taking the pipe that he was smoking from his mouth and handed it to Sarik. "You just sit down and relax," Dagen finished, and then went immediately to work constructing the fire pit. A few minutes later the pit was made and Dagen sat back down.

"Do you want to do the honors?" Dagen asked Zain, motioning to the unlit campfire.

"Sure," Zain replied.

He moved forward to the pit and sank to his knees. With his hands out before him, he began chanting a prayer to Forlen, the God of Light. "Forlen Tu' Terrin Mor Du' Forlendal." He ended his chant and light coursed through the trees forcing back the clouding darkness. In the center of the pit a warm fire blazed.

Sarik, who had been putting together a stew in the dark, now placed it over the fire in an old iron pot. The light and warmth was welcomed and soon the smell of rabbit and wild herbs filled the small campsite. It reminded all those gathered that they had not eaten since daybreak, and all of the adventurers soon found themselves salivating.

"Is there any bread left?" Jase asked while licking at the corners of his mouth.

"No, I told you this morning that we finished it yesterday," Sarik roughly replied. "Don't you listen to anything?" asked Sarik. The rogue mumbled in response and then sat back in silence to wait for the stew.

They ate their stew without talking. The wind that was not blocked by the trees caused the flames of the fire to ripple and sway as if in a dance. The sound of the blowing wind through the branches of the trees intermingled with the sounds of the forest. When they had finished eating, each did their own part in cleaning up.

Once everything was put away Jase put his head on his pack and tugged his cloak up and around him, and he fell asleep. Zain followed suit, saying first his prayers to Forlen and studying a few incantations of spells he wanted to be ready for the next day. Dagen snuffed out his pipe and threw a few extra pieces of wood on the fire. He held his scabbard and grasped the hilt of his sword and asked Achaines for strength and guidance, and then lay down. Sarik read a bit from a book he kept always with him. He grew sleepier as he read and just before he slipped off to sleep he noticed that a strange mist now clung to the forest.

...

Jase was asleep, but his dream was a written page of the book of his past. He sat alone in Dog's Mead, an edgy and seedy tavern in the port city of Goldorath; a gathering place of would be adventurers, pirates, and low-life thugs. His back faced the bar, not willing to put it to the tavern's patrons, though he did not trust the bartender either. He took turns gazing at the brown haired serving wench that was now making her way across the sawdust covered floor. Hands reached out to touch her as she went by. Some she knocked away, and to others she turned and smiled. Jase figured that for the right price she would probably offer more services than just serving ale.

Between watching the serving "maid" (and at that term Jase used it lightly), he watched a group of four boorish men that were gathered in tightly at a table near the far wall. Jase knew they were members of the pirate guild called the Hands of Moon Blood, a secret group that held allegiance with Count Lanto, which through such groups was trying to tighten his grip over the Realms of Confusion.

Jase wondered if he should really be doing this. This was not like him at all. Jase was a pickpocket, a thief, and a womanizer. He wasn't a hero, nor did he care all that much about justice or walking in the light. This was meant for someone like his father, who believed in all those ancient stories and religions.

Jase took another sip of his ale. So much that had gotten his father, he thought. Slain as an unpaid soldier on some meaningless battlefield by a goblin. Unpaid! The word screamed through Jase's head. The man never even went after another woman after his wife had died while birthing me, Jase thought grimly.

He noticed that he was staring at the group of men and quickly turned his attention back to the serving maid. She sat on a man's lap now and was slightly lifting her skirt up for another man to view. His father had it all wrong, he thought as he took a long draught from his drink, and then quickly turned his eyes back to the four men as they rose from their table. They were leaving and heading towards the side door.

Jase reached into his pocket and took out a coin and tossed it to the barkeep, then slowly kept his distance as he followed the men outside. Jase left through the front door of the tavern and quickly the smell of the salty sea combined with the smell of garbage filled his nostrils. He was sick of that smell; maybe that was why he was really doing this. He held onto that thought hoping that it was really right.

He slowly looked to his left to where the ships were anchored up to the yards. He noticed no one looking at him and acted like he was just observing the swaying of ships in the beating waves. He took the fact that the guild members did not have anyone watching their backs from the docks to turn his head around to make sure he wasn't being followed. He wasn't, and he smiled to himself. So far so good, he thought.

Jase took his time. He found things to take his focus off those that he was following. Many times he paused to look at the wares of a street vendor, letting the guild members build up more distance between the two. But, Jase never let his gaze slip from his hunt.

The pirate guild members finally turned away from the docks and made for an alley that slithered further into the mess of buildings that were littered throughout the port. Jase closed the gap now that he had no choice. From this point onward he knew things would get trickier. He would now have to follow at a closer distance, one that would have a higher chance of him getting found out. But again, he had no choice.

Jase entered the alleyway. His hand moved down to his side where his rapier was sheathed. He made sure the blade was ready to emerge at any moment. He also drew a small knife and slipped it up his sleeve.

Jase let his hands go to his pockets as he adopted a demeanor of casually strolling along. He even hummed lightly to himself so it appeared he wasn't trying to keep absolutely silent. The pirates up ahead turned and went down a short narrow alley. Jase glimpsed in to see which way they would turn when they left it. They turned right.

He moved along to catch up with his query. His feet slid silently over the cobblestone. He peered down the alley they had taken. The alley widened, allowing the pirates to no longer walk single file.

The scoundrel hired to find the keep of the pirates entered the alley after them. They still continued on. He could hear their voices carrying to his ears down the alley. They spoke about one of the barmaids at the tavern they had just left.

Jase soon noticed something strange about their conversation. It sounded forced. It sounded as if they were making a distraction for someone's benefit. Jase quickly counted their number and noticed they were one short. Alarm filled his mind as his hands left his pockets. His knife slipped easy into his hand as he began to draw his sword from its sheath. It did not matter though, for everything went dark, as he was struck hard from behind.

...

Jase Zalendar awoke groggily as water splashed forcibly into his face. He tried to look around as blurry consciousness quickly turned to dull throbbing pain.

"The little rat is awake. Too bad he fell into a rattrap first." Jase heard a voice snicker. A small chorus of laughter followed.

Jase tried to bring his hands to his face to wipe away the murky water that still stung his eyes, but was unable. He quickly recognized that he was seated and his hands were bound behind him. He tried to move his feet next to no avail because they too were tied.

"You can quit wiggling rat," a different voice said this time. "I know how to tie a rope and you ain't going nowhere."

One of the pirates must have realized that Jase could not see with the remnants of the water in his eyes because a towel was forced onto his faced and wiped it clean.

"Here we are," said a beefy pirate that was peering into Jase's eyes. The man's breath smelled like bad ale and rotted food that was probably decaying in his wooden teeth.

"So who are you and why were you following us?" the pirate asked. The pirate did not expect a response and received none. He smiled.

Jase's head flung up and backwards as the pirate put his fist hard into the trapped scoundrel's mouth. Jase would have howled in pain if he had not nearly blacked out from the force of the blow. Stars and bright light now danced all before his eyes. He did not hear what the pirate said next, but felt the answer. His head flung to the right as the pirate hit him openhanded against the left side of his head.

The blow almost seemed to revive Jase, rather than cause him to see stars again. The pirate had counted on this. "There we go," the pirate said as he saw that his prisoner's eyes began to refocus.

"Now, let's be a little more civil this time. I am going to ask you your name. You will tell me your name or I will hit you again. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Jase breathed.

"Good," the pirate responded. "Now, my name is Lorgan. What is your name?"

"Jase," the scoundrel exhaled.

"Good," Lorgan said again. "Jase what?"

Jase's mind raced trying to come up with a phony alias for a last name. He did not think of one in time. A blow struck Jase right on the nose and immense pain exploded through him. Blood began to trickle down his face.

"Now Jase, I thought we had gone over the rules here," said Lorgan with mock disbelief. "I guess I'll have to explain them again. You see, when I ask you a question, you answer or pain is the consequence. If punching you doesn't work then I will resort to other tactics. And trust me, you don't want me to resort to other tactics," Lorgan said with malice in both his voice and eyes.

"What is your last name?"

"Zalendar!" Jase flinched at the eagerness in his voice to give his captor a response.

Jase saw Lorgan smile. The pirate could tell from the response that it was not a falsified name.

"Good," Lorgan said. "You understand how this works. Next question, why were you following us?"

"I was paid."

"By whom and for what purpose?"

"By a third party to find out what Count Lanto is up to," Jase said lowering his head in shame. He had always felt that he would be a hard nut to break. All it had taken was a few punches to his face and he was dribbling out information as fast as he could.

"Good," Lorgan said again. "But, I want a little more information about this third party."

"I really don't know anything about them," Jase started before his head flew back again from another blow to the face.

"I don't," Jase gasped out as blood from his nose now mingled with blood now flowing from his lips.

Lorgan was quiet for many moments. The other pirates laughed and spouted out threats to Jase as their ringleader thought what to do next.

"Unfortunately, I think you are again telling the truth," Lorgan began. "So, I suppose that means we don't have a use for you anymore."

Jase heard the finality in his voice. He waited now for the searing pain of sharp steel to sink into his gut. He heard several blades being drawn as he closed his eyes. He did not wish to see his doom coming. As grunts of satisfaction came nearer to him there was another noise that rocked the compound that they were in.

Jase opened his eyes and saw the pirates turn away from him. The sound of ringing steel could be clearly heard. Lorgan issued quick, sharp orders and the other pirates quickly left the room. Lorgan turned and took a quick look at Jase before he followed his men.

Jase started to frantically to try to break free of his binds. It was useless. He was tied too tight and too much strength had left him. He would have to wait to see what his fate would be.

The fighting in the halls and corridors grew louder as it neared Jase's room of imprisonment. The scoundrel heard grunts and screams of those that had steel put to their flesh. He heard also the call for help and aid from those that had fallen and those that still battled. The fight soon found itself right outside the prison door. Jase waited for his death.

The door burst open and several figures poured in. Two were dwarves, who both paused and looked at him with recognition. The third that entered first finished off one of Lorgan's men with a sword stroke. The third figure seemed strange and exotic, having blue tinged skin. The three were clearly of those that had invaded the pirate hideout.

"Who are you?" Jase seemingly whimpered as one of the dwarves came forward.

The dwarf ignored him as he started to cut Jase's bonds. Jase heard the blue tinged man talk to the other dwarf and thought he caught the man calling him Sarik. The last of Jase's bonds were cut free and the injured man fell forward. The dwarf stayed his fall.

"We are going to get you out of here Jase," the dwarf that had freed him said. "You did a good job leading us to Count Lanto's lair, but he has already fled."

"Who are you?" Jase tried again. He was full of confusion on what had befallen.

"We are part of an underground resistance against Count Lanto. We are the ones that hired you. My name is Zain."

It was the last thing Jase remembered before he blacked out.

...

Jase awoke with a start. The jumbled memories of the dream quickly sorted out in his awaking mind. He had been dreaming of the day he had met his three traveling companions. He had been with them every day since.

They had failed in their mission. The Count had slipped through their fingers, but they had thwarted the evil noble's imminent plans and driven him out of the land. He was still on the loose and had fled northwards past the great mountains that separated the world. Jase's companions would follow Count Lanto anywhere. To them the man had much to answer for, and Jase felt honor bound to come with them.

Jase let his eyes open a little wider. He lay on the hard ground of the forest. The wind blew from between the branches of the trees. Its breath was cool and Jase pulled his cloak tighter around him.

He looked to the dying embers of the fire. They glowed orange and bright, but were low and smoldering. Jase looked around and saw Dagen sitting up as watch. Dagen noticed the thief's movement and looked at him.

"There is something both comforting and disquieting about this forest," the barbarian said. "Perhaps, it only seems so since we spent so much time crossing the Mountains of Darkness into the north. I do not know what we shall find up here."

Dagen Vrance seemed to be talking to himself as much as he was to Jase.

"Maybe we will find what we are looking for this time. It has only been three years," Jase quipped.

Dagen nodded. "Yes, it has been a long journey. But, it has gone on much longer than three years for the rest of us."

Jase stood up and came to where Dagen was sitting. He held tightly to his cloak as the wind blew again, fluttering it out behind him like a cape. For many moments they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"I'll take the watch from here, Dagen," Jase said, breaking the silence.

The blue-skinned man hesitated for a moment then reluctantly nodded. There were deep thoughts behind the ice-barbarian's eyes.

"I could use some sleep," Dagen said. His voice seemed solemn.

"And I could use some thinking time," Jase replied with a smile.

Dagen patted him on the shoulder and got up to go to his bedroll. Jase watched as the ice-barbarian seemed to fall instantly to sleep. He was always amazed how Dagen was able to do that. Jase turned his eyes away from his companions gathered around him and scanned the outer darkness. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The thief's eyes soon settled on the dying embers that glowed orange. Jase witnessed a small trail of smoke that lifted up and made its way to the tree bows above. He followed the trail with his eyes, moving them upward until he saw the break between the branches and the sky above. Blue stars lit the curved dome. Looking at the vastness above, a peculiar thought entered Jase's mind, and for some strange reason he believed his own fate rested up there somewhere amongst the stars.

...

The rising Starsun lit the forest in dancing golden rays that descended as beams of glistening light. Dew sparkled on curved leaves and on the sparse grass that littered the forest floor. The air was cool and crisp and soothing with the dawn. The four travelers rose, and began preparing for their day's journey.

There was the sound of rattling gear as it was swung into place. The dwarves and two men then moved away from their camp and went back to the old forgotten road. Soon, they were on their way again through the place known as East Lannerdan Forest.

They walked for several hours before resting. Their pace was slow, being in no real hurry. They were on a journey with a goal, but with no real destination. By midday they had slowed even more, and then stopped. They took the time to observe the natural overhanging beauty that was touched by the turning color of leaves all about them. Soon, they decided to add food to the rest of their march.

Each of the travelers munched on dried meats, which they had brought along for their long journey. They had saved much through the mountains, where they had found more game that they had expected. The forest was soon to offer up fresh meat, but had yet to give them that opportunity. Close by Sarik discovered a small stream, which they drank from and refilled their water skins.

Zain sat on a rounded tree that must have not long ago been knocked down by a storm. He chewed his food thoughtfully. Bits of the jerky found its way into the dwarf's beard, but they were soon discovered and devoured. He looked around as he ate, taking in all that he saw. Soon, his head stilled as he tried to peer through the foliage at something he glimpsed in the distance.

Zain stood, and moved slowly away from the others. Sarik eyed him carefully, but did not interrupt him. Zain had not reached for the war-hammer that was strapped on his back. Sarik trusted the dwarf with his life, having fought side-by-side with him in the United Dwarf War. If trouble were about, Zain would alert the others.

Zain was gone for several minutes. Dagen glanced questioningly at Sarik, but did not ask him any questions about the other dwarf directly. The ice-barbarian had seen the way the other dwarf had left too, and by his movements he knew he had not left to relieve himself. When Dagen had finally decided to go and look for the dwarf, Zain reemerged.

"I've found something," Zain said before any of the others could question him. "There are ruins of an old fortress not too far from here. I did not see any movement from the outside, but it felt strange, like it is not empty."

At the dwarf's words, Jase sat up. The idea of an old fortress filled his mind with what valuables that might have been left. Sarik observed the thief, but also the gleam in his adopted son, Dagen's eyes.

"If it is ruins then any treasure has probably long been plundered," Sarik said. "But, it could be used by thieves or worse. Many evil things dwell in ancient rocks and holes."

"Do you think Count Lanto might have set up a trap for us? Or at least some of his minions to watch for us?" Dagen asked. Battle-fury was already starting to flame up in his eyes, and his hand was rubbing the hilt of his blade.

"It is possible, but might not be likely," Sarik responded. "We haven't heard or seen any sign of the Count in months." Sarik's face became a grimace with the statement.

"I vote to explore the ruins;" Zain cast in. "There is no telling what might be inside. We could find some useful supplies, or at least a clue of what land we are in. A map would be worth wonders. Also, maybe the Count visited the place on his trek north. We won't know if we don't explore."

"Then let us go," said Dagen. There was a grim smile on his face, and none of his companions were surprised to find his sword already in his hand.

Chapter 2: The Old Fortress in East Lannerdan Forest

The four travelers made their way through the vegetation, pushing back branches and tall plants. They soon moved into an area, which had been cleared of trees long ago. Still, the outlying trees stood tall so that their branches hung high, shading the clearing. Plants and grasses could be seen here, but what were most noticeable were the decrepit ruins of a long ago abandoned castle.

The four travelers looked upon the ruins of what was once known as the Old Fortress of the Watch. It had been used long ago as the land's southern citadel to protect the North Road as it made its way up from the places south of the Mountains of Darkness, into the land known as Stirlyn. As time passed, and the citadel seemed to not be needed, it became abandoned and forgotten.

Vines now snaked their way up the battlements and crumbled towers, as if they meant to pull the stones of the fallen fortress back to the earth. The castle's perimeter wall was crumbled and had many large open gaps. The wall's gate was rusted steel, which now sat ajar, welcoming any that may pass by. It was a symbol of a forgotten past.

The four crept slowly towards one of the piles of rubble that was once part of the protective wall. They crossed through the gap and came to a courtyard that was well overgrown by wild foliage. They moved silently, creeping closer to the ancient castle in its apparent slumber. Darkened windows, which had long forsaken glass, peered questioningly down at them. There was no movement up above. The travelers moved on.

Across old cobblestone, which once had been a luxurious walkway; the travelers went towards an old iron door caked in rust. Jase moved forward and inspected it, but found nothing out of the ordinary. He tried to open it, seeing that it was not locked. It would not budge.

"Hey," Jase whispered back to his companions. "I need some of your muscles to push this thing open." the second comment was directed at Dagen.

Dagen sheathed his sword soundlessly and came forward to push on the door. It did not move. He tried again, this time applying more force. It moved slightly.

Turning back to Sarik, Dagen said, "Father, I need your assistance."

Sarik handed his curved moon-blade axe to Jase and came to help his adopted son. The two pushed with all of their might and the door slowly began to move inward into the darkness beyond. The open doorway was like a portal into night. Sarik moved back and retrieved his axe from Jase, while Dagen drew his sword again.

Zain, we will need light," said Sarik, turning back to the Cleric of Forlen.

Zain moved forward. The others gave way and let him pass. Zain leaned his war-hammer against the outside wall and came into the darkened doorway. With his hands together, he bowed his head and spoke muted words.

Zain extended his hands, from which now rested a small globe of light. Raising his arms and pushing them towards the darkened chamber within, the globe shot forth from his palms. The light went to the center of the chamber and hung without motion or sound. All that was within the chamber was cleansed of the seemingly eternal darkness that it had suffered from.

The light revealed what had seemed to be once a guardroom that was small and square shaped. Along the left side of the room was an old weapon rack, which was still filled with swords and pikes that had long been covered with rust. There was a stone table in the center of the room, with stone benches. They seemed unhindered by the passing of time; save for the spider webs that adorned them. On the far side of the room was a gaping doorway, which once probably had a wooden door that had long since disintegrated.

Sarik entered the guardroom, followed closely by Dagen. Zain came in shortly afterwards, taking a moment to grab his weapon and rearrange his armor. Jase came in last after peeking around the corner, making sure everything was clear and safe.

They did not tarry long in the guardroom. They found nothing of interest. Sarik and Dagen were soon headed to the far doorway. And with a flick of his wrist, Zain made the globe of light follow their progress.

They walked down a short hallway before they came to another room. Rats scattered from the light as they entered. It was easy to see that the room had once been used to store important goods. Two old chests rested against the far wall. One had fallen in on its self as the wood had rotted away over time. The other was rusted iron. It was open, but nothing of value remained within. They continued on.

They walked down a long drafty passage. Cracks in the stone and holes in the mortar allowed the outside air to purge some of the dank enclosed smell of the old fortress. They passed several old chambers, pausing to sift through the remains. Jase was able to discover a few old coins, but they did not seem of great value.

The passageway curved and then ended. They were forced to pass through a rather large hall, which appeared as if it were the citadel's banquet hall. They found nothing of value and quickly moved on. Another short passage brought them to a chamber that held an old iron cage. The room moved off in two directions, one went to more chambers on the first level of the fortress, and the other went to a stone stairwell that was well preserved.

Dagen and Sarik stayed put as Zain and Jase explored the remainder of the first level of the castle. As Zain left with the globe of light he had cast, it left both Sarik and Dagen in darkness. Dagen removed a torch from his pack and lit it. Father and adopted son talked quietly amongst themselves as they waited for the others' return. On a stone table on the far side of the room, sitting away from the prisoner cage, Dagen found many old documents.

He began to look through them, taking his time trying to save them from falling apart. Many of the first documents he handled did just that, and fell to pieces in his hands. He worked more diligently after that, and tried to absorb all the information on each document before moving it. At first he found little that was helpful.

The documents were old and faded. Most were of soldiering content, discussing supplies and pay. This was of little interest to Dagen. He went through several of these before he finally found one of use.

"Father, I found a map!" Dagen exclaimed at the discovery of his prize.

Sarik quickly made his way over to the map and studied it. There was no telling how old the map was. It seemed hand drawn by a soldier, and was not very good from an artistic standpoint. But, the map did label many important places, such as forests, roads, mountains, and rivers.

The physical features would be accurate, both knew. But, the cities and fortresses on the map could be gone.

"This will be very useful," Sarik said to Dagen.

"It is too bad we can't take it with us," Dagen replied. "It will fall apart as soon as I move it."

"Then we study it now," Sarik responded. "We will not move it until the others get back and they get a good long look at it too. Perhaps Zain still has some parchment and a quill with ink. He could make us a quick replica."

"Make a replica of what?" Zain asked as he and Jase returned from their search of the other rooms.

"Of the map Dagen found," said Sarik. "Did you two find anything?"

"Nothing useful," said Zain.

"Just a few more coins," piped in Jase. "Nothing much. A handful of copper and a couple pieces of silver."

Jase was ignored as Zain came over and looked at the map. The cleric pulled some parchment out of his pack and a quill. He went to work covering the highlights of the map as quickly, but as accurately as he could. When he had made the map he put it carefully back into his pack. "Are we ready then?" Zain asked. The others nodded.

They went to the stairwell and tested the steps before they tried to ascend. The steps were of stone, and though they were chipped in several places, they were sturdy and intact. Dagen led the way with the globe of light floating near him. Sarik followed, with Jase coming next and Zain taking up the rear position.

Coming to a platform that led to the second level, they found an iron door ajar. Dagen peeked through; the light was not needed to aid him. He saw a balcony with slate stone that was cracked and crumbling. A rusted rail ran across the edge of the balcony and the trees of the forest were visible beyond, rustling and swaying like cloaks in the wind.

Dagen saw two doors on either side of the balcony. At each door stood a statue. Dagen looked closer and saw the hidden arrow-slits over each statue's shoulders. Each door was made of stone and covered with dust and spider webs. The left door was open.

Dagen turned back to his companions and described what he saw. "I think we should go up to the next level first and see if we can gain entry there too before we explore here," Dagen added.

The warrior did not wait for a response from his comrades, but was already ascending to the highest level of the ancient ruined fortress. He came to the platform that held a door to the third level. Trying the handle on the iron doorway he found that it would not budge. He applied pressure, but it seemed that force would not be enough.

Dagen looked back to Jase, "Hey thief!" he yelled back mockingly. "Do you think you can get this doorway open?"

Jase pushed forward pass the dwarves. He muttered something under his breath about being tired of being referred to as a thief. The others glanced at each other and did their best to hide their mirth, but Jase noticed.

"I am glad you guys think it is funny," Jase said in an annoyed tone. "You guys won't be using me as the butt of your jokes if I get this door open," He said as he brought out his lock pick and started to work on the door.

"You have to get the door open first," Sarik snorted behind him to a chorus of low laughter.

Jase grimaced and continued on. He worked furiously for several minutes before he sat back on his haunches. He rubbed his chin and tried to peer into the keyhole on which he worked. Dust and debris, which had built up over time did not allow him a proper view.

"I can't see anything," Jase finally blurted out. "I can't get this thing open either. The only chance we have getting through this is going back down to the second level and looking for a key of some kind. And, if we don't find a key then we can pack up and move on, because we will never know what hides behind door number three."

"Let's head back then," Dagen responded with seriousness back in his tone. "I want to be out of this place and moving along to get out of this forest in an hour."

Dagen pushed back the others and quickly went back the way they had come. The dwarves whirled and followed him. Jase was left packing up his stuff and scrambling to keep up with his friends. "Wait for me!" He managed to squelch out as he bunched up his belongings in his arms and ran down the stairs behind them.

Dagen was the first to move out onto the balcony on the second floor. He made his friends wait behind. He wanted to be sure that all of them would not be killed in some ambush of arrows fired from the hidden arrow-slits. As the blue-skinned warrior moved forward onto the balcony with his sword raised he went first to the door that seemed soundly closed, and he found that they would not be able to enter that way. Looking over the statue's shoulders he saw no one in the hall behind the slits. He motioned for the others to come forward.

The four travelers moved as one as they went to the other door. Moving through the door they found a short hallway that traveled about thirty feet to an open doorway. Entering, they found a room ornate in its ancient construction. The dwarves moved forward passed the warrior as awe overtook them.

"The stone here is strange," Sarik said almost to himself.

"It appears to have come from many different places. Places I have never seen. The cutting is like none I have seen either. It seems as if it was brought here from many different lands," Zain said speaking to the air.

"Or different worlds," Sarik added to himself.

Dagen and Jase moved around looking closer at the stone. They too noticed that it was strange. The colors seemed to be wrong, and were like nothing they had ever looked upon.

"What does it mean?" Jase asked.

"I don't know if it means anything," Sarik responded in all seriousness. "I just wish I could take some with us."

"Well, Zain can use that big hammer of his and smash a chunk off," Jase said without thinking.

Both pairs of Dwarven eyes turned as one toward him. There was anger in their gaze. Jase, finally noticing the looks he was given fell back a step like he had been struck.

"What? What did I do this time?" He asked incredulously.

"To recklessly damage stone-cut like this would be a mortal sin to a dwarf," Sarik said with venom full in his tone.

Dagen came to the young human's rescue. "Father, you know he doesn't know every detail about dwarves. But, we should take his point. Either take a proper sample, which we have no time for now, or we should move on."

Sarik nodded slowly in agreement. He dragged his eyes painfully away from the sight of the stone. On the other side of the room Zain was doing the same.

"Alright, let us go then," said Zain sadly as they left through an open passageway on the far side of the chamber.

They searched many more corridors and chambers without finding anything that would aid them in opening the iron door on the highest level of the stairwell, until they came to the last unexplored room of the fortress's second level. In this room they found that the walls were rounded and held no decorations. In the center of the rounded room, alone with the collected dust of time, sat an ornate chest. It seemed strange and foreboding to the travelers to the lands north of the Mountains of Darkness.

It was a wooden chest, though the wood had not suffered from rot. In flowing silver there were many etched runes placed upon the iron working of the chest. It had at its latch a dial, which shapes could be turned. On top of the chest, perched as if to protect the contents within, was a stone gargoyle. Its claws stretched downward with its sharp talons. Gouge marks were clearly visible in an upward stroke across the container.

The gathered travelers stood and looked at the chest in silence. They were intrigued with the artistic workings of the chest. But, they were bewildered at the same time. It seemed to possess an eerie presence, though besides the claw marks on the chest, which seemed to be an intentional part of the craftsmanship, it seemed non-threatening.

"I do not feel any magic at work here," said Zain carefully as he moved closer to the Gargoyle's Chest.

Jase slipped by the others as they continued looking at it. He came to his knees before the chest and looked at the gargoyle. It seemed to be staring him in the eyes. He looked back intently, wondering if the thing would come alive any instant and destroy him. It remained stone.

Jase looked to the dial and saw different types of colored orbs. The dial had three different slots that could be turned. He began rotating the slots of the dial. Jase tried several different attempts with the slots mixing up colors and then trying to try all the same colors for each attempt. Finally, Jase transfixed the slots so that three emerald orbs lined up in the dial. There was a click sound and Jase carefully pushed open the lid.

Jase looked inside as the others crowded around him. All four of the travelers' imaginations ran wild with ideas and anticipation. But, at first glance the massive treasure chest guarded by the stone gargoyle seemed to be empty.

Jase looked all the way to the bottom of the chest, reaching his hand down there to see if he could feel anything. His hand touched metal. He looked, but did not see anything. He grasped at what he felt and pulled up a small metal object. Bringing it forth into the light he saw that it was a key, but the metal was see-thru.

Sarik quickly plucked the key out of Jase's hand and looked at it.

"I have never seen anything like this," he said.

"I bet there used to be other things in that chest, but were looted long ago, save for the key because they did not see it," added Zain.

Jase stood up and quickly stole back the key from Sarik's hand. The dwarf gave him a grumpy look, which Jase replied with a stern stare of his own.

"I found the key," he said justifying his action. "I want to look at it first, and not have some old grumpy dwarf stealing it out of my hands."

Sarik harrumphed and Zain said something under his breath, but neither interfered. Dagen was looking at the chest and rubbing his hand at the bottom to see if they had missed anything else. He brought his hand out empty.

"Well, I assume it's the key to the upper level," prompted Dagen.

"Yeah, you're pretty quick," quipped Jase. "I think we all came to that conclusion minutes ago."

Dagen crossed his arms and scowled. He seemed to get taller as he looked down at Jase. The rogue broke off eye contact. He knew getting Dagen angry for no reason was not a smart thing to do. He had once teased the barbarian about his blue skin until the big man picked up Jase and tossed him in a lake of freezing water. Jase would almost bet that the Dagen was thinking of that moment as well.

"Here," Jase said tossing the key to Dagen trying to diffuse the tension. "Let's not wait any longer in this Gods' forsaken keep. To the upper level we go."

"That's if that key opens that door, despite our assumptions," put in Zain.

"If it does, it does. If it doesn't, it doesn't," said Sarik. "But, the thief is right. Let's get going."

The two dwarves and the barbarian began to head back the way they had come, leaving Jase mumbling and scrambling to keep up. They quickly made their way back to the stairwell and came to the highest level of the fortress. Dagen inserted the key into the door and turned it. Turning the old knob the door slowly opened revealing what might have once been used as a barracks.

After quickly looking about the barracks they continued through a door on the far side of the room. A long corridor followed for nearly a hundred feet until it went out to shaded daylight. Rooms were positioned at uneven intervals throughout the corridor. They stopped in each of the rooms, but found nothing of real value. They continued onward.

As they exited the corridor they found themselves positioned on a narrow battlement with high walls. They seemed to be on the opposite side of the fortress from that which they had approached. Small openings in the battlement's wall showed the tall overgrowth of trees in the forest. It was likely the trees, which grew close to the battlement, had not been there when the fortress was used on a consistent basis.

Coming forward to the end of the battlement the four travelers came upon something that completely surprised them. A tower rose high into the canopy of the forest. It too had been shaded from their eyes when they had approached the keep. A stone door barred their passage, but they found out quickly that their key worked the lock.

The doorway creaked open revealing a large empty chamber and a stair at its middle that spiraled high to the floor above. So, they entered into the place that was once long ago known as the Doom Knight's Tower. And taking to the stair they ascended to the anterior chamber of the Old Fortress's throne room.

Coming to the second level of the Doom Knight's Tower they saw a double door hinged on a massive arch some three times the height of a man. Written across the arch in a crude array of stonecutting read: Bow before Helyst, the Keeper of the Emerald Orb. The four warriors stopped at the words.

"I'd be willing to guess that isn't part of the original architecture," Sarik grumbled as he hefted up the haft of his axe.

"You don't think this Helyst is in there," Dagen responded to his adopted father. "This whole place has been deserted for ages it seems."

"And looted too," Zain piped in. "Except for the Gargoyle's Chest with the key in it."

"But, doesn't that mean that no one has been up here?" Jase asked. Fear had crept into his voice. "I don't like this."

"Of course you don't," said Zain mockingly. "You don't like anything that might actually try to hurt you. You would probably prefer stealing from old woman and children."

"They give the least amount of resistance," Jase responded without mirth.

Zain shook his head in disgust, while the other two ignored the bantering.

"Yes, but it says Keeper of the Emerald Orbs," Jase pointed out. "When I opened the treasure chest, I had to put all three slots of the dial on the emerald orbs. Why would emerald orbs be important?"

"Probably just an heirloom of this place and whatever lands it once controlled," Sarik said.

"I will not back down to some cryptic words over an archway," Dagen said defiantly and he moved forward and pushed open the doors to enter the throne room. The others followed him in with the weapons ready. Jase came reluctantly.

The throne room of Doom Knight's Tower of the Old Fortress of East Lannerdan Forest had a tall arched ceiling. Tall marble columns were lined in far spaced pairs throughout the center of the chamber. In the center of the pass between the pillars rested a silver stand of ornate architecture. Upon the silver stand rested a seamless Emerald Orb. The Emerald Orb gleamed brilliantly from the rays of light that shone in beams from the series of stained-glass windows at the far end of the chamber.

The four travelers looked in awe at the orb that was positioned near the center of the great throne room. All four slowly advanced as in a dream. But, Dagen was soon stayed. He felt a warm breeze bathe over him in short bursts, like breath. It was then when he noticed a looming shadow, which started to extend over the chamber.

Holding his sword high for battle, Dagen roared, "We are not alone!"

A great bellow answered his warning. It was the roar of an ancient beast, and its call to battle shook the walls and columns of the old throne room. The Emerald Orb, upon its perch, did not waver.

Then Helyst revealed herself. And she was a mighty hydra of two serpentine heads spawned in the cracks of the Abyss in some distant past. Her skin seamed slippery, like that of an eels', and she had two massive front claws with five talons each, like sharpened spears. Her eyes were slivers of pale moonlight and her fangs were four in each of her gaping maws, like husks of mighty beasts. A tongue slithered forth and hissed in sickening tones, as if the monster spoke some foul language that only its two heads understood.

One of the heads struck, flashing like the shadow of midnight. Dagen's sword flashed, like moonlight quickly emerging from blowing clouds. It struck scaled flesh, leaving behind a thin trickling line of blackish blood. Dagen rolled as he swung his mighty sword, moving away from the maw that would have grinded him into a spray of ruined flesh.

More words of warning were not needed. The rest of the company fled for the protection of the columns. Dagen stood in the center of the chamber alone. He peered up at the beast in defiance and brought his sword up once again before him as a shield. The hydra moved slowly towards the warrior from the back of the chamber. Its right-sided legs moved upward as its talons clutches at columns, scraping off tiles as Helyst raised herself high, as if perched.

Helyst swooped down with her right head to draw Dagen's attention as she struck at him with her front left talons. Dagen positioned his body to attack the beast's head, but did not notice the creature's claws coming to slay him from his blindside. Luckily, Dagen's companions did see the monster's faint.

Jase had managed to slip his bow from his back and quickly notched and sent forth an arrow. The arrow was ill aimed, but did strike behind Helyst's attacking head. The arrow caused a gash, but did not penetrate and was deflected and sent reeling to the deeper regions of the throne room. The slight injury caused the head to rise up as it swooped for Dagen, and the ice-barbarian's sword sailed and cleaved the bottom half of the hydra's gaping maw. It split it in two and caused an explosion of black blood.

The hydra's right head lifted and roared, causing the roof to shake. Many tiles and stones from the ancient ceiling rained down. They clattered and shattered on the floor below. Meanwhile, Dagen still did not perceive the danger, which came from behind. But, his adopted father, who had saved the barbarian as an infant who sat alone crying in the snow, did.

Sarik Moonwater came forth with his axe held tightly against the dwarf's thick frame. Sarik made no sound as he unleashed his ancestral weapon. The curved blade of the axe whistled an eerie tune as it swept out and severed the clawed foot from the hydra.

The bestial roar was much worse than it had been before. Brave Dagen went forth to deal a stroke against the creature's body, with a great outpouring of thick blood. From behind a column, Jase let sing another arrow from his bow. The arrow lifted high, striking Helyst's left neck. Sarik was there, his axe swinging swiftly.

Zain watched, not yet engaged in the madness against odds that he had no chance against survival. He darted forth from where he watched the combat and grabbed the Emerald Orb from its shining silver stand.

"Run, you fools!" The old dwarf bellowed as he made his way forth to the end of the throne room and to the door from which they had come.

"For Snowfell!" Dagen Vrance screamed forth as he struck another deft stroke of his great-sword and turned to follow his old friend. Sarik was right behind him. The dwarf ducked back behind the columns as one of the hydra's heads struck where he had stood only a brief moment before. Jase let loose one more arrow, which struck and chipped one of the great barred fangs of the mighty beast. Then, the thief fled as well.

Helyst moved faster than the four companions believed possible. The hydra moved forth swiftly, even though the axe of Sarik Moonwater had cut one of its feet clean away. Its fangs and hot breath were on the heels of the four intruders as they fled with their stolen prize. They sprinted now with death just trailing them.

Zain was the first to bust into the throne room's door, throwing it wide open. He darted passed it and moved to the narrow staircase and started his descent. His companions quickly followed him. Jase and Sarik were next and moved their way to safety to the lower level of the Doom Knight's Tower.

Dagen came last; the barbarian could feel the breath of death on his neck. There was the hissing of saliva, which dripped upon him from above. The stairs were closer and when he was near enough he threw himself at their ancient stonework. A great snap of closing jaws from above snatched at his previous position. But, Dagen had made it. He rolled down several stone steps taking lumps and bruises as he went. But, he was alive and the four had stolen a treasure of which they knew not its worth.

Chapter 3: The Town of Daelor and the North Road to Keltor

Day turned to night and night moved its way to day. The four travelers awoke from the place in the forest from which they had camped. They had not faltered till nightfall in the flight from the Old Fortress of the Watch. It was the watch of Helyst over their stolen treasure that they had not expected. It was a battle that had been beyond them. It was a battle they were lucky to have survived.

The morning Starsun's rays trickled down warmth and light through the red-tinged leaves of golden green. It bathed East Lannerdan Forest in gleaming radiance; it seemed a treasure unto itself. Packs rattled as they were shouldered. Pots and pans and weapons clinked together in a clamor of a chorus.

"I want to be out of this forest as soon as we can," muttered Zain, as the pack slipped heavily onto his shoulders.

"You and me both," replied Jase. His tone indicated that Zain had spoken the obvious and was annoyed by it.

"Suit yourself Jase Zalendar," Zain replied harshly. "But, you don't have what that thing wants! I do. And the farther away we are the more comfortable I will feel. Besides, we don't even know if this orb was worth the effort."

Sarik spared a glance towards his arguing companions. The old dwarf's eyes lingered on the large circular bulge that emitted itself from Zain's pack. Somehow, Sarik felt in his gut that the orb they had found would prove to be important. Dagen followed his adopted father's eyes as he put his sword back in its scabbard after having examined it.

"The Emerald Orb was put there for a reason, Zain," Dagen said. "But, I do not believe we have need to fear the hydra. It and the orb were placed in that throne room for a purpose. What that purpose was, well, I have no idea. But, the hydra will not escape the fortress, and by chance that it does we can easily escape it in the forest or elsewhere. I do not think it is agile enough to sneak up on us," Dagen finished with a spreading grin.

The last statement and gesture was meant to break some of the tension over their acquired treasure. It seemed to work. Zain looked at Dagen for a long moment and finally let loose a loud laugh. Dagen noticed Jase had a smirk on his face and muttered a confident remark about how he would hear the hydra a mile off trampling through the woods. Dagen looked over to Sarik who shook his head and then nodded at his son. The nod spoke volumes; it also was a salute to diffusing the crisis in the camp.

They returned to the crumbled road that moved its way through the forest. It was the North Road, named long ago by those of the country they had entered. They did not know, but if they stuck to the road it would lead them through all the northern country and then pass beyond to lands that were unknown to this land. The North Road had passed through their homelands and come to this forgotten place of the north, so it went ever onward it seemed.

They finally moved away from the forest near midday. The shade faltered away and the Starsun bore its noon heat down on top of them. They slowed and went back to the edge of the forest and removed some of their traveling cloaks. They stopped there as well to eat a small meal while they were still concealed from eyes. Zain studied the map he had made of the crumbling one they had found in the fortress.

"If we continue up this road we should find a town. It was called Daelor on the map. We should reach it by dusk. But, that is of course if the town still exists," the cleric said, shrugging his shoulders. The old dwarf took a bite of dried meat and looked to the others to see their response.

"We have no choice," said Sarik. "Either it is there or it is not. It is the closest place on the map we have seen. Even if Daelor no longer exists, another town may. People build towns in certain places for a reason. It could be they are near water or the fields yield good crops. Those things usually do not change. Unless this world is void of civilized life, I think we will find a town there."

"That is good enough reasoning for me," Jase piped in.

"Me too," Dagen added. "Are we ready?"

They moved on. They walked up the dusty old North Road. There were green fields to their left and right. If they looked far enough to the east when the road curved that way, they could see a flowing river.

A few hours before dusk they began to see the first farms. Farmers worked the fields taking in the harvest. Those that saw them stood and watched them. They all waved, but they all were hesitant. It was to be expected. They were strangers and heavily armed. The fact that they did not drop their hoes and run was a good sign.

Dusk was setting in. In the east, twilight was appearing with starlight rising and casting its first hint of blue fire. In the west, the Starsun sank behind a distant horizon. It did not matter, for northward they saw the outline of small buildings of a town. When they came closer they passed through a gate, which had not yet been closed. Two militiamen that were wearing leather jerkins and loosely holding spears eyed their weapons, but did not oppose them. The older of the two men wore a gray beard and a face that was hard leather from many years of summer burning his face. He nodded and spoke only a few words. "Welcome to Daelor," he said. Then he paid the travelers no more heed as they entered the town.

The road led through the middle of town. It was narrow and huddled by the buildings of two or three stories that lined both sides of the dirt road. The road here had trenches made from the constant use of wagons coming and going. They passed a forge and supply shop, but both had closed for the day with their owners probably at home in front of a warm fire eating stew and drinking barreled ale.

At the edge of town, they came across a four-storied building with a hanging sign over the door reading: The Horse and the Sailor. It seemed to be the town's only inn. The four travelers looked at each other and the same thought could be seen in each of their eyes. It had been so long since they had slept in a real bed.

They started towards the door. The Starsun hid behind smoldering clouds in the west as twilight took possession of that realm. Sarik Moonwater pushed open the inn's door and entered. Light and laughter spilled out onto the street until the closing of the door behind all of them cut it off from the night.

Inside, the town's residents, mostly there for drink and friendly company, paused to look the newcomers up and down before returning to their conversations and their beverages. Sarik led his band over to the bar and they found four empty stools and sat. The Horse and the Sailor's bartender was at the far side of the bar pouring a patron a warm mug of ale. She finished stuffing the payment of coins into an apron pocket before turning and smiling at her new customers.

She was young, perhaps in her early twenties. Her hair was the color of red flame and her eyes were as green as the orb, which resided in the cleric's pack. Freckles covered her face and she presented herself to the strange new customers of Daelor's only tavern and inn.

Sarik introduced himself and his company. He ordered for them a round of ale, a warm meal, and a room for the night. He placed a generous amount of gold on the bar's counter. She examined them with her eyes widening at the strange marks, but she easily determined the great worth before her. She quickly swept away the coins into her apron, and then she was off to fulfill their order.

She quickly returned with their ales and a few minutes later pushed bowls that were thick with stew before them. She brought also two loaves of crusty bread and a heavy crock of butter. She handed Sarik two room keys and gave him her best smile. Jase wished the smile had been given his way.

Sarik slid two more copper coins across the counter. She thanked him and was off again to pour more mugs of ale. The adventurers finished their meal, and when the fiery young bartender came back to ask if they needed anything else, Zain spoke up and asked her if there was anyone here that knew anything of the Old Fortress of the Watch in East Lannerdan Forest. A frown crossed her face and her brow creased for a moment and then both were gone. She thought to herself for a moment and then pointed to an old man wrapped in a dark cloak sitting alone in a corner of the common room.

Zain flicked her a small copper penny, which she caught with a smile. The four then rose as one and approached the isolated man who studied the end of bread before him on the table. The old man watched the four travelers approach under bushy white eyebrows. When they came to the table the old man motioned for them to sit.

The old man introduced himself as Savian Silverstar, an ancestor of the ancient King of Merlaa of the world Corthan (whether he really was a relation no true proof was forth coming). He looked at the four warriors about his table and smiled proudly. The four travelers looked at each other in turn. All were well traveled and had been on many adventures, but none recognized the names Merlaa, Corthan, or Silverstar. Their expressions showed the lack of knowledge and the old man's smiled dimmed some, seemingly put out by them not being impressed.

"It does not matter," Savian said. "I fell into a portal as a child and came here. I was taught many things in my youth that do not seem to exist here in Stirlyn," Savian said, confirming the name of the land the travelers had found on the map. "I will tell you some of them if you are interested?"

"We would be honored to listen to ancient tales of heroes," Dagen replied to the old man. This would be payment for any information he bestowed upon them. The old man wished for company and also to feel his visitors out.

"Aw, yes, well that leads to the price of payment for my grand services," Savian Silverstar said flourishing his wool cloak in a mock grand gesture.

Dagen smiled at the pretense of formality. "And what would that be?" asked Dagen with humor in his voice. He knew the price would be small, perhaps a cup of warm wine.

Savian smiled at them in a friendly manner, knowing that the large warrior before him saw that he was an old man that was just reveling in having company. "Just your names of course," Savian said with his smile spreading larger across his face. He looked at each of those gathered about him in turn. He then turned back and looked at Dagen in the eyes and said, "And of course a goblet of mulled wine," Savian winked at the barbarian and let out a rumble of gentle laughter. The others joined in.

Savian Silverstar had gained much knowledge from his youth and from his travels as a young man. He did not go on great quests for adventure, but he had quested for knowledge. He learned much from traveling from land to land. He listened to bards and he read books and talked to scholars and studied in the great libraries.

He took what he had learned and placed it into his memory. Those stories that were fragmented or incomplete he pieced together and putting his own spin on them he spun them anew. He was a keeper of stories and legends. He was a historian. He was a man that knew much and had met many people.

Talk of the Emerald Orb and the Old Fortress of the Watch would be achieved. Dagen, Sarik, and Zain knew this. So did Jase, but he had less patience than his older companions and he spent time frowning into his mug. Savian told them several stories, all of which none of the four travelers had ever heard before in their great quests and wars. So, Savian Silverstar enjoyed recanting tales in the high chant of the courts of Pith Destin, the capital city of the land of Stirlyn.

The Legend of the Palace of the Golden Dome:

Oh glory! So humbly obtained in a land of desolate north

Brought forth in a palace with a tower spire next to dome gilded gold

And came the arena of soldiers clad in green

They fought and conquered all

It was a fleeting dream

Oh Darkness! Your cloak of shadow came south

Bleak mirth smiles darkness now on great slumbering deeds

Lost is the luster of the glimmering gold

Shade cools shade darkens and weakens golden green warriors

Lost do they find their way waiting for the reincarnation of the past

He comes he goes he comes again

Awaken! Oh great return! Awaken Soon!

He is here and suffering is gone

The conquerors take their rightful place once again

And for a time will return the gleam of mystique to the Palace of the Golden Dome

The Legend of the Trumpet of Doom:

It will sound across the Forever Night Sea when the deadly time comes

War! So swift and cruel is the price of the clear horrid note

Armies will gather and worlds will shatter

All across the stretch of Tevindal's existence

Such a host comes forth that is not barred to the Void of death

But they are tied to doom and doom they cannot escape

Oh sorrowful creation and sorrowful souls that live in that time

Which witness the converging horde of demons and angels

Those that survive the time of Rantarok

Will wish they had never heard the sounding of the Trumpet of Doom

Of the Mists of Autumn's Breeze:

Stirlyn, land lost, world of its own

Those, which reside in you have never called elsewhere home

To the far east lies the Blood Drenched Sea

To the far west rests the teeth of the Shadowed Vale

But, to the north and south the deadly winds have blown

A thousand years ago came the breeze of the Mists of Autumn

Covering those paths that led through the Mountains of Iron and Darkness

Thick lay those clouds killing all life

Passage was not possible

The Mists of Autumn clung

Memory of the North and South was reduced to none

The old man told these tales and many more as the night drew ever onwards. He turned his focus to those that had joined him. He had not inquired of their reasons of seeking him out alone in his solitude. Intrigued, asked them of their own tales, wanting to take new legends and spin them into tales of his own creation.

Sarik spoke of the hunt for Count Lanto, the evil being that was moving from land to land to subjugate them into his own holdings. Dagen spoke of his childhood and the wars that were beset on his tribe, how they were killed and Sarik, whom had adopted him, and rescued him. Jase spoke about women and his alleged conquests with them. These stories brought laughter to the entire table, for all knew they had been manifested on the spot.

Zain spoke of war. He told the tale on how his native land of Moon Haven was invaded by the dark elves during the Dwarf War of United Tribes. It was during the war that Zain had met Sarik and Dagen. Sarik had saved Zain's life as they confronted Prince Ju'Daraan of Blackfallen, the home of the dark elves in the abysmal underworld. Prince Ju'Daraan had escaped, and as thanks for his rescued life, Zain swore himself to Sarik.

It was at the name of Prince Ju'Daraan that Savian conceived a thoughtful look upon his face. It was as if he sought some knowledge that he had obtained long ago. "How long ago was this Dwarf War against the dark elves?" he asked Zain.

"It was long ago. Nearly forty years past," confirmed Zain. "We dwarves live long lives, and Dagen was only a teen, though he was mighty even then."

Savian Silverstar slowly nodded. "I have heard of the Prince Ju'Daraan," he started. "It is said that after his defeat during the Dwarf War of United Tribes, Prince Ju'Daraan, of the Dark Elves of Blackfallen, escaped with his life, but not his honor."

Zain's eyes widened in his speechlessness and Jase glanced over at the old man for knowing about the war that the dwarves had blabbed on about for seemingly forever. Dagen straightened in his chair. Sarik leaned forward and asked, "Then you know of these things?"

"A little," the old man replied. "Only a tale I picked up when I was a younger man and did not live in the land of Stirlyn. As I said before, I have traveled to many places."

"Please, continue with what you know then. I would like to hear what you have to say," said Zain finally recovering his voice.

"I will tell you what I know and remember," Savian said. "Let's see, where was I? Oh yes, Because of defeat, Prince Ju'Daraan was forced to discard his title and was exiled from Blackfallen to wander the Abyss alone to whatever horrible fate he must face. Carrying with him only his weapons and a small pack of provisions, Dranikk Ju'Daraan traveled the dark and monster filled caverns. He came face to face with a Dranaur, an ancient undead demon of darkness, and in his terror Dranikk fled."

"For many days he was followed until he found an ancient chamber in the deep darkness. The chamber was as old as time itself, created when the Abyss was once bathed in the light of the stars and the sun, before the destruction of the Pillars by the hand of Qulelil. As the Dranaur came into the chamber, Dranikk drew his weapons, prepared to meet a fate worse than death with steel and fire. It was at that moment that the chamber was washed in a gentle glow of green. The Dranaur turned in pain from the light, and Dranikk turned in hope."

"On the wall that was once encrusted with jewels as fine as those found in castles of high lords was a portal. Dranikk watched the portal, mesmerized by its brilliance. As he watched the portal began to fade, and Dranikk, knowing not where it led, ran and immersed himself in it, escaping the wrath of the Dranaur."

"Now Dranikk fell for a long time. His path transcended centuries, going back and forth in time, and the world from which he came grew old and crumbled and was seen reformed. His body was preserved in light and his mind was filled with ancient secrets, all evil and wickedness was drained from him. But the light ended and Dranikk was once again deposited into darkness."

"He knew not where he was, but had traveled between worlds in the Realms of Confusion. He had resurfaced in the Underworld of Corthan, the ancient stronghold of Myr's forces carved by the hands of Gorthar Stronghammer. He traveled weeks lost and met foes of great power. At last he came upon a city of exiles from the surface."

"Who are these exiles?" Zain asked.

"They are a people called the Squidaandan. And they are located on a grand island called Vinsnarpia, where my homeland of Merlaa rests."

Silence took the five that sat about the table. It had grown quiet in the common room, for many of the patrons had already gone to their rooms or homes.

"The candles in here burn low," Savian commented, breaking the silence. "The night moves on. Daybreak is not all that far away. You have given an old man the best company he has had in years, but swapping tales was not the reason you sought me out. You can see that I am knowledgeable on many things. What is it I can help you with?"

Sarik almost laughed out loud. "You old fool," he said to Savian in jest. "You knew all along that whatever we wished to speak to you about was not for the ears of the commoners in this inn. So, you distracted us with tales until we were here alone to discuss our business without seeming suspicious."

"That is true, master dwarf," Savian responded. "You had the look of men that had just accomplished a great deed, a deed that held great secrets. What is it you have done? And what is it you hide in Master Lamtred's pack?" Savian asked, as his eyes flicked to Zain's pack resting on the floor.

"Perceptive and wise," commented Dagen as he nodded to Savian Silverstar.

It was Savian's turn to laugh, "No, just old I'm afraid."

Sarik leaned forward and recanted their entire tale of their adventure through East Lannerdan Forest. Savian's eyes widened at the battle with the hydra, and more so with the mention of the treasure they took from the beast.

"And the orb is there," Savian said, his eyes once again flickering to Zain's pack. All four of the travelers nodded. "May I see it?"

Zain stood up and moved closer to Savian bringing the pack near the old man. Zain positioned himself between the two to block the view of the hidden treasure. The cleric did these precautions even though no one still remained within the common room. As they showed the old man the orb, his eyes lit up with distant remembrance. He did not give much information that was useful, save to go to Keltor, which was a town north of Daelor. In Keltor they should search out the inn called The Fallen Hatchet and talk to its owner, a man named Jerald Selond.

That was all he knew. Though, he informed them that he knew enough that the orb was very special and must be protected. The four travelers thanked him and went to bed.

They rose two hours after dawn and ate a quick breakfast of toast and eggs washed down by a quart of fresh milk and made towards the North Road. They traveled for two days with nothing but uneventful traveling. On the third day the band came across trouble. The sky was filled with dark clouds and imminent rain, and on the side of the road there was a curve with trees and a ditch that left a blind spot in the North Road. There they rested through the night as the storm raged, lightning and cold rain and wind was all about them. When morning came the Starsun washed away the memory of darkness, and they went the rest of the way to Keltor.

Chapter 4: The Fallen Hatchet

Keltor was a town similar in appearance as Daelor, save there were more buildings connected by narrow alleys where the slums of the city resided. Finding the Fallen Hatchet proved not an easy task for the four adventurers wandering the vast number of streets in the town of Keltor. Where Daelor had only one inn, Keltor had over a dozen, including the Wind Wake, the Horseshoe, and the Home Stirlyn. The adventurers passed many city goers and stopped at more than one supply shop on their way to the Fallen Hatchet. Most of the day went by and still they could not find it even with the helpful (or not so helpful) directions from the townspeople. Jase began to joke and started to refer to the inn as the Missing Hatchet.

By nightfall they found it and none of the four were very much impressed. It was the smallest inn in the town and when they entered into the dim light that lit the small gathering room it was quiet. The only patronages were two older men playing a game of Rocks and Stars. One of the men looked up at the well-armed men that had just entered the Fallen Hatchet with a mixed gaze of interest and fear. The man that was looking at them asked if he could do anything for them.

Sarik asked the man if he were Jerald Selond. The man gave a solemn nod and asked if there was trouble. Sarik and his band shook their heads no in unison, and Sarik told Jerald they were there for a room and to talk with him. Jerald Selond looked back at his game partner and excused himself.

Jerald led the band of adventurers to another small room and told them the price for the night. Sarik quickly handed money that was enough for two nights. Jerald looked at the money before placing it in his pockets, but asked no questions. He knew the extra would be for the questions they would ask him.

Jerald looked back in the common room and saw that his Rocks and Stars opponent had drifted to his room for the night. They went back out there and pulled up five chairs and talked deep into the night. Selond relaxed when the travelers said they had been sent under the direction of Silverstar, a personal friend and a long time patron of the Fallen Hatchet.

When Sarik showed him the Emerald Orb, Selond's expression grew grim and worried. Selond began to spill the news of the terrible tide that was preparing to roll over the land of Stirlyn. He told them a story of a wizard named Golmar Raxlyn that had come from great distances and presented himself to the King of Stirlyn at the capital of Pith Destin. Raxlyn's words were seeped with poison as he spoke into the ear of the king and only one saw the treachery that was being displayed.

That one was Raven Fireheart, Stirlyn's greatest and most noble knight. The knight tried to tell the king of the evil Raxlyn was trying to spread and at these words the king was outraged and banished his greatest warrior from Pith Destin. Fireheart left, but before he did he confronted Golmar Raxlyn and the wizard fled before the wrath of Fireheart and his sword Ilandol.

Unfortunately, the wizard Golmar Raxlyn was able to cause the damage he wished before Raven Fireheart confronted him. The minions of the wizard had sought out the Emerald Ruins, a temple deep within the Mountains of Darkness, and stole from there the three Emerald Orbs. These are the power source that holds back the evil that is behind the barrier in the Shadowed Vale to the northwest. With the barrier broken, vile beings spilled into the land of Stirlyn, and the three Emerald Orbs were taken to be protected at three fortresses. One was the Old Fortress of the Watch, another was the cursed tower of Dagar Morneth, and the third is believed to be where the wizard fled himself to gather the ancient powers of the kings of Stirlyn to use against the land, the Crypts of Stirlyn in the Valley of Kings.

While the armies of Stirlyn were organized and sent out to fight the escaped hoards of the Shadowed Vale, Raven Fireheart sought out the entrance of the portal that was connecting the two lands. There, by some means, he had been able to stop the flow of monsters into our land. The rest of the monsters fled and went into the mountains and Black Haven Forest, while others went to the fortresses that guard the Emerald Orbs.

The King of Stirlyn has prohibited the armies from attacking the towers that guard the orbs, for he does not believe in them, and so the poison of Golmar Raxlyn continues. No one knows exactly what has become of Raven Fireheart, but it is believed that his power is weakening, for more monsters have recently been able to come through the portal at the Shadowed Vale. Jerald Selond stopped his story and looked at each of the adventurers in turn.

He then told them that if they wished to help then they must seek out the other two Emerald Orbs and return them to the Emerald Ruins before it is too late. Sarik and his men spoke vigorously about helping. Selond nodded his head in thanksgiving. He told them that they must then go to the tower of Dagar Morneth and retrieve the second Emerald Orb. Selond would lead them now if they wished and get them passage on a ship that crosses the Lake of Starlight. Ships only cross at night, for in the day the monsters that swim in its depths stir.

Selond went and quickly retrieved his cloak and ushered them out the front door of the inn. They went down narrow streets, crossing over the main North Road, and came to the docks that lined the Lake of Starlight. Jerald Selond used the money the adventurers had given him to pay for their passage on a vessel called the Twilight Breeze.

Jerald Selond gave them a wave goodbye as the ship went out to surf the starlit waters. The night air was cool and crisp as the adventurers took to the bow of the ship. The waters shimmered with glimmering light and the wake of the ship caused the rippled star light reflection to seem a pool of blue light.

The adventurers rested in peace and woke as the ship docked with the moon still glowing before the breaking of dawn. A gust of wind blew in from the east, bringing the coolness from off the water. Sarik, Dagen, Zain, and Jase took one last glance across the serene waters and listened as the water lapped itself in small waves against the shore. Then they turned west and their journey took days to reach the bridge on the West Road that crossed the Ryler River. Then they traveled northwest across the Mountain Plains towards the tower of Dagar Morneth.

Chapter 5: The Cursed Tower of Dagar Morneth

The Mountain Plains were not plains at all. It was a shifting sea of loose dirt and sand. This was no desert though. It was a land devoid of moisture without the heat one may expect to be at the root of the cause. Water did not fall here, for this land had been cursed long ago.

Four tiny shapes trampled across the great wasteland. Their footfalls were slow and staggered from pushing through the uncertain soil. The winds blew their howling song as they advanced, blowing fragments into their eyes. It seemed that the world of the living had been left behind.

The sky was strange here. Stranger it became the further they advanced. The Starsun still shed light over the vast destitute horizon, but with each slow passing mile it changed. The edges became dimmer and blotted. They hinted clinging darkness and the shade that emerged seemed to waver, though no cloud shrouded the ever-graying sky.

Both the sky and ground edged closer to the realm of darkness. The ground shifted from crumbling sand to solid stone the color of night. No stars were visible when the Starsun slumbered; the veil above was a cloak of solid midnight. There was no such thing as twilight here.

Night turned to day, with the shadowed Starsun giving off a dim reflection. It appeared as if it came from another place, another realm, from a different position in the Forever Night Sea. It held more gloom than ever before. And with the waking of the no-dawn the four travelers finally saw it, as if it had risen from the depths of the tormented earth, before them stood the cursed tower of Dagar Morneth.

It appeared cold, like the first dawn of winter. The very presence of it chilled the air. It was of solid black stone, like that of the earth. But, no mortar or creases could be found in its architecture, it was as if it were a solid creation, formed and hollowed by a massive stone. Flawless it was in its depravity of hope. A haze of shade clung to it as if it were an aura of evil.

Nine tall stories it advanced into the thickening gloom. Its mantle was the shadows and its crown was a pinnacle of iron spikes at its extended height. Darkened windows crisscrossed with black iron were periodically positioned. If any light penetrated their darkness it could not be decided from without its confines. At its base was a flight of stairs that ascended to a squared gate at the tower's second level.

It was Zain who spoke first as the four gazed at the monolith that had placed itself before the travelers. But, the cleric did not comment on the tower's strange intrusion on their camp, nor on its décor of darkness. Instead, the dwarf said, "there is no sound here. Here, the wind does not even blow."

The other three looked at their friend as they too realized the absence of sound in this void of reality.

"But, where did it come from?" Jase voiced the obvious question. Fear was prevalent in his voice.

"Maybe it is a spell," Zain said. "Perhaps it is only seen in a certain light in this land of horrors."

"I do not like it," Dagen said. "Nor do I know why it is now here. But, this is why we crossed this forsaken land; to find this place and take from it the treasure that is said to be within."

"Then, let us enter before all nerve is gone and solid thinking returns," said Sarik as he advanced towards the stair with his great axe already held in his meaty hands before him.

There were scraping sounds as steel was released. The sounds were loud and sharp in the quiet shadow of the tower. But, they seemed right and holy. All four of the travelers registered this, and all in their own thoughts wondered what hell waited within to make weapons forged for killing sound angelic.

These thoughts faded as they crossed the threshold of Dagar Morneth's stair. The black stone gave no echo from the falling of their heavy boots upon it. It sucked away all sound made upon it. The travelers shared uneasy glances, but continued upwards without words.

They shortly reached the square gate that seemed the only entrance into the Dark Monolith. No locks or handle to open the gate were visible. Jase crept past his companions and studied it, but was fearful to touch the tower's stone. The thief looked back and saw three sets of patient eyes upon him. They waited for him, but would not rush him.

A trembling hand came forward before his body as Jase reached to push the gated door. Hand touched stone. No death or curse of demons was transmitted to the thief. He gave the barest of shoves, and the gate opened, separating into two doors, which swung inward. The doors came to their zenith and stopped. Again there was no sound, no scraping, and no squeaking hinges.

Before the travelers was a gaping dark portal to the blackness within Dagar Morneth. Brandishing his great sword, Dagen Vrance advanced with a deadly grace into the darkness and was swallowed by it. Sarik followed, his face with stone-set determination. Zain patted Jase on the shoulders and disappeared as well. Jase gulped, and then flung himself forward, not wishing to be separated from his friends.

Within the tower, the four could only witness the light from outside the open gate. Once all the travelers were within, the gates began to close. They closed again without sound and they closed smoothly and slowly. The light became dimmer as the gate closed, until there was one last gleam down the middle of the two doors, then they folded into one and the light was gone. There was no great boom as the door shut them within; there was no sound at all.

Darkness fell. Then darkness dissipated. From the windows positioned on the tower light filtered in. But, this light was not like that from the outside. The light was faint, but it had color, like a gleaming red that had been dulled over centuries.

The shadow of blood fell upon them. They appeared stained with it. Jase rushed back to where the gate had closed and gave it a shove. It did not budge. He ran a finger down where the two doors had met. He found no creasing; it was as if it were never a door, rather just another part of the Dark Monolith's walls.

Behind Jase and his dismay, Zain put down his war-hammer to cast a spell. The weapon touching the floor caused no sound. Zain looked thoughtfully at his heavy weapon, but his thoughts did not linger on it. He opened his mouth to voice his incantation of light, but only breath escaped. Words and sounds did not escape.

Zain's eyes widened in panic as he looked to Sarik, to ask the dwarf what he thought was going on. But, he saw the same confused expression on his friend's face as his mouth moved forming soundless words. Dagen too, was trying to speak without success. The three turned and looked at Jase as his arms flailed and he mouthed several silent curses.

It did not take them long to understand that an enchantment was upon this place to allow no sound. There was nothing they could do. The travelers fell into line behind Sarik. The old dwarf was their leader, and without speech they would have to follow his deeds.

They looked around the chamber room. It was as empty as it was silent. The only thing they found was a staircase in the center, which twisted upwards to the floor above. They took to it and crept up to the next level. They found nothing here either, save dull red light and silence.

They continued up in the eerie, red, dark quiet. Each floor they came to was the same as the last. It seemed that nothing abode here in the madness of Dagar Morneth. Soon, they came to the highest chamber of the tower. It was here that they met its master.

...

Dagar Morneth's top chamber was not empty. Here the windows were tall and wide and the travelers could see out of them. Horror lay beyond those windows. The land beyond was not the Mountain Plains of Stirlyn, from which they had come. It was a netherworld of decay, darkness, and death.

Vile actions took place there in the beyond. These vile actions displayed cruelty, murder, and suffering. There were no words to describe what one saw there. Only horrid silence would suffice.

There was a presence there in the highest chamber of the tower with them. The four travelers turned as one to it. Its mind was powerful and drew them in, drew them towards its direction. The Master of Dagar Morneth sat with its gaze upon the intruders of its tower. The gaze did not show displeasure or pleasure, only keen interest and attention.

Silent gasps were shocked exhales of air. The master's throne was carved of ivory bone of a great beast, which seamed sickeningly white in the blood-red glow of the dim light. The skeleton of the beast's head lurched over that of the master's. It had rows of long, curved teeth, which seemed to smile madness.

But, if the skeleton of the beast that made up the throne inspired madness, then the master of the tower, which sat below it, granted insanity. There the Master of Dagar Morneth sat, its body the shape and form of a man. But, it held not the outer coating of flesh. Its skin had fallen or had been stripped away. Its exposed organs were bloated with puss and crawling maggots. Its eyes were runny, as if the irises had melted away. Fragments of its bone were visible along the lines of its cheeks and mouth. Its tongue hung blue and decaying, a useless hunk of meat stretching to the roaches that bit at it on the creature's shoulder. Long wispy gray hair ran from the top of the monster's head to the floor below.

The grotesque being curved upwards its absent lips. Tension grew in the silence. The four travelers looked on, as if paralysis had set in. Their stares were met and held from one that had risen from the Abyss.

Though the senses still registered no sounds from within the tower, which did not hinder the communication between the ruler of the tower and his guests. As the creature held their gazes, each of the travelers began to see visions of wildly horrid images in their minds. What each of the travelers saw paled in comparison to the torture that took place outside on the Shores of the Abyss.

The scenes, which were displayed in their minds, were of personal nature. They were depictions of their worst fears magnified. Each vision was artistic cruelty. Memories of war or lost loved ones were on display with new horrible twists. It was real to those that interpreted them.

Sarik, Dagen, and Jase sank to their knees. Their madness grew as the unrelenting visions intensified. Jase grabbed his head with both hands as he crumbled all the way to the floor; his head arched back to release a silent howl of misery. Dagen wept uncontrollably. Sarik clawed at his eyes.

Zain, alone of his companions, weathered the onslaught. The dwarf shook in his pain, but he stood his ground and faced his tormentor. The cleric drew on his religious strength, though it seemed fleeting in the ever-hell being placed upon him. He raised a foot and took a step forward.

The movement by the cleric was painful and he drew in great gulps of breath as if he had just run many miles. The visions within his head grew stronger and more terrible, as the Demon King of the Abyss let his gaze fall fully on the approaching dwarf. Zain stumbled on his next step. He had witnessed in his mind the deed done onto his sister, which he had only known about after the fact. He saw her torture by the hands of the Dark Elves, and all the pain they had put her through.

Through the visions, Zain began chanting the Creed of Forlen in his head. He put his focus on his learning in the monastery high in the Mountains of the Moons. He pushed forth his reserves of strength to carry on. Though no sound could escape his lips, Zain repeated the Creed over and over in his head, with it growing louder in volume until it boomed thoroughly in his mind.

The Demon King's visions continued building within Zain's mind. But, the dwarf kept up his strength and moved his feet slowly towards the sitting Master of Cruelty. The Demon King's ruined eye sockets grew wider as Zain Lamtred approached. It threw its last reserves of power at the Holy Cleric of Light as it realized the imminent doom, which was closing upon it.

Zain was close now. The dwarf hefted up his great war-hammer, which seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. The weapon of heavy iron lurched back behind the body of the dwarf, and then descended in a deadly arch. The head of the hammer came swiftly down and met the skull of the Demon King.

The Demon King's skull exploded in a mass of ruined gore. Then there was sound. The Demon King in its defeat let loose a piercing screech, like a crow's song grating bones. Then, the visions were gone. The Demon King was gone, and the Shores of the Abyss beyond the windows were gone. And from outside the tower a bird could be heard singing its song.

Daylight from the Starsun now showed its healthy pale gleam through the windows. The three travelers on the floor moaned in their misery as they worked their way to their feet. Zain stood still in his shocked vigilance, war-hammer still in his hands. The head of the hammer rested gently on an Emerald Orb, which sat high on a polished silver pedestal.

Dagen was the first to regain his feet. The barbarian came to Zain's side and looked at the orb in confusion. Sarik and Jase soon joined the others as they looked at the treasure, which they had come for.

"What happened?" Jase asked. His voice was almost a whimper.

Neither Sarik nor Dagen said anything. They were waiting for Zain to answer. The dwarf pursed his lips, not sure exactly what he should say. Gathering his thoughts he finally said, "I think this tower was a weak point in the fabric of existence. It was a portal perhaps, one that you could enter, but not exit. I do not think we witnessed the Void, but I think we witnessed the Abyss and one of its overlords. When studying at the monastery we were told how the minions of Devindal on many worlds could reach the Abyssal Plain. It must be places like this where they cross over, save this point was not fully connected yet."

"Whatever it was," Sarik started, "the connection has been severed. Let's take what we came for and leave this place. I for one am ready to be gone from it."

"I agree," Jase said hopefully.

And for once, Dagen echoed the thief.

Zain took the Emerald Orb gingerly. He had a quick panging fear that the orb would open up a gateway to the world of the slain master of Dagar Morneth. But, touching the orb sent away any thoughts of silent horrors. Once it was tucked away carefully in Sarik's pack, they left the chamber.

The four descended the stairs, passing each level. They found comfort that the light on each floor was normal as it should be, rather than being stained red. They came to the floor from which they had entered. They were relieved to find that the doorway to the outside of the tower was visible. They had no issues leaving the tower.

Once outside they were washed with regular star-shine, rather than the strange light that had been filtered through the deepening gloom. They came down the stairs to the ground that now held a natural dirt color. Once they were there, they circled together to discuss their next move.

"Where do we go next?" Zain asked, looking at his companions.

"I would like to find this Raven Fireheart, if he still exists," Sarik responded.

"Information that we gathered from Jerald mentioned that he went to the northwest. I say we head that way," Dagen said.

"Good idea," Jase interjected. "I don't want to stay in this place for another second."

Zain let loose a hearty laugh. "Me neither," he said as he patted his friend on the back. "Let's get going from this place. Cleansed or not, I don't want to camp here when the Starsun sets."

With that said, the travelers moved again across the Mountain Plains.

Chapter 6: The Meeting of Raven Fireheart

The Mountain Plains became more normal the further away the travelers went from Dagar Morneth. The desert lands seemed to recede, now that they were no longer held by the taint that had coursed through the land. Sparse grass could be seen, with more of it each mile they trudged across. Life was returning to a land held in the limbo of dimensions.

Heading north, the band of travelers came across the curved turning of the West Road. They took to it, brightened by the fact that they no longer roamed aimlessly across the stretching plain. The road curved and arched heading into the northwest of Stirlyn. There in the distance were shadowed mountains, as if adorned with constant gloom. Thus, the band of travelers went to that place known as the Shadowed Vale.

Rain clouds soon gathered in the distance adding to the darkness that already prevailed in the northwest. The rain moved closer and soon saturated the poor travelers as they continued on in their march. The road soon became nothing more than a muddied path. All were left cold, wet, and miserable.

As they moved closer to the Shadowed Vale, the dark mountains could be seen in greater detail. There was no majesty of beauty to be witnessed among the peaks. Rather, they were like daunting gray monoliths rising forth like jagged teeth. The gloom, which surrounded them, was like a foul breath coming forth from a monstrous mouth. The spirits of the travelers sank as they entered into the opening gap of the seemingly endless miles of razor death.

Sarik held up his men as they entered the far edge of the Iron Mountains, which were home to the Shadowed Vale beyond. The West Road wove a narrow pass through the tall peaks, but the darkness beyond loomed unnaturally. Sarik urged caution. They moved onward, and within the hour they were submerged in complete darkness.

The four travelers lit torches and Jase swore he saw reflective golden eyes disappear back into rocky crevices. Zain behind him whispered something about the pass being cursed by the undead. Dagen drew his bright blade, and Sarik nervously fingered his axe. Another hour passed and the band of adventurers began to hear a scraping sound. The sound came from before them and from behind.

They stayed on guard with their weapons in their hands and war cries on the edge of their tongues. When the mountains finally gave way the adventurers were stunned and horrified at what they saw. The land was flat and dry for another three miles or so then it opened up into what was probably an endless chasm. The sky overhead was black, but there were no clouds, and Zain told Sarik that he was sure it was daytime.

Past the end of the land was a violent storm of red fire and lightning that glared green. Endless thunder rumbled. Before the chasm stood a temple. Its marble columns were cracked and dark, corrupted by the evil of this plane of doom.

The travelers proceeded to the temple and walked cautiously up its eroding steps. There was no door or gate, just an archway that gave way to a long corridor. They passed through the archway and slowly crept down the corridor. They then entered a chamber with a high ceiling that had tall columns streaking upwards.

Torches positioned throughout the chamber dimly lit the room. At the far end of the chamber a man stood motionless before a large portal that glowed with a mixture of flowing reds and purples. The movement of the colors was mesmerizing, and Sarik gestured to his band not to stare at the portal.

The four approached the man, and all were shocked when he spoke to them without ever turning to them. He welcomed them and commended them on their bravery. He declared himself as Raven Fireheart. Sarik motioned for his men to sheath their weapons. They did and came forward to Raven's side.

He was every bit the knight Selond had declared him to be. He was tall and strong, with flowing black hair and eyes, making him more a raven than his name suggested. He wore black steel armor and behind him flowed a red cape. Around his finger was a blue ring and at his side was the ornately jeweled pommel of his sword Ilandol.

He spoke of the evil beyond pointing to the portal before him. He declared that his ring, the Sapphire of Stars, held magic that made him invulnerable only in this temple to the evil that crossed over. But he could only hold off so much at one time, and other monsters were able to pass by him. Fear of his sword kept most of those beyond unwilling to cross the plane into Stirlyn. He was interrupted as a group of monsters spilled through the portal. Sarik's band drew their weapons and there was a great ring when Ilandol left its scabbard. A dragon came out of the portal and Raven pushed the band of adventurers out of his way to challenge the beast. Other monsters came through at the dragon's side. Sarik, Dagen, Zain, and Jase charged these monsters and gave battle.

When the monsters' slain carcasses littered the floor, Raven Fireheart turned back to the travelers. He listened to their tale and then told them that they might be the only hope to defeat Golmar Raxlyn. They would need to go to the Cave of Darkness that was on the edge of the Iron Mountains at the northeast corner of the Black Haven Forest. The cave would lead them to Fire Dark Keep that guarded the path into the Valley of the Kings.

Sarik told Raven that they would go and do the best they could. Raven stopped him and told him they would need help, and suggested they go first to the Citadel of Blue Frost that was home to the Frost Giant Belun. There they may receive help, but only if they defeated the Frost Giant in a contest of battle.

Zain asked the knight where this citadel could be found. Raven told them to go to Frost Wave Lake, the source of the Northern Frost River. The rest of the travelers nodded their agreement to go there first. Raven gave them a grim smile of thanks, and waved farewell to the last good humans he would ever see.

Chapter 7: The Citadel of Blue Frost

The journey to the Citadel of Blue Frost was peaceful and uneventful. The travelers crossed over the distant miles of Stirlyn until they came back to the North Road. They then crossed the road and came to the Northern Frost River just north of the town of Keltor. They followed the river and camped nightly by it, eating fresh fish caught from the river.

Just south of the city of Bromsford, the travelers came across a bridge that gapped the river. They crossed and proceeded northward once again. They traveled all the way until they reached the southeastern edge of Frost Wave Lake. There they met a wanderer sitting, watching the lapping waters of the lake.

The man was old with a long white beard, and was dressed with a long blue cloak, and had a tall pointed hat of the same color. He was kind and friendly, and asked the travelers if they might share some food with him. The travelers, fresh out of food, found sticks and attached strings and fished out of the icy waters a large trout and shared it with the old man.

Sarik introduced his band of followers and asked the old man his name. The man presented himself as Nuleb. They spoke of their errand and fished out another fish and gave it to the old man. The travelers then spoke their goodbyes and traveled on.

The travelers traveled on the east side of the lake and finally came to the edge of the eastern part of the Iron Mountains. There, nestled at the edge of the water and surrounded by a cleft of mountains, rose the Citadel of Blue Frost. The citadel had a long hall with one tall spire rising up to meet the sky. It was a light sky blue that looked beautiful and awe inspiring in the morning light. Colored glass windows lined the hall, depicting scenes of history that only one that lives as long as a Frost Giant may remember.

The four travelers approached the citadel and were surprised when the tall double wooden doors were thrown back and welcoming them were two small dwarves whose skin was light blue, the same as the citadel. The dwarves named themselves Huginn and Muninn. They were the gatherers of information and knew all things that took place in their lord's realm. They brought the travelers within and closed the doors.

To the travelers' right was a stairwell that led high into the citadel above, but Zain was surprised that the stairs were not wide enough to allow a Frost Giant to travel up them. The two dwarves led the guests over to a small table where four chalices were filled to the brims with a clear sweet liquid. The chalices were presented to the travelers and they drank heartily, letting the delicious honey laden liquid soothe their throats and warm their bones.

After the refreshing draught was finished, they were led down the great hall to meet their host. The hall led to another set of large wooden doors. Huginn and Muninn opened these doors and bowed as the adventurers entered. The doors shut when the travelers went through, leaving the two dwarves on the other side.

The chamber they had entered was vast and simple having only a massive throne at the far end that was carved from blue ice. A small man sat on the throne presenting an almost comical situation. The band of travelers moved forward until they discovered that the man sitting on the throne was no other than the old wanderer they had given fish to on the shore of Frost Wave Lake.

The old man laughed at their surprised expressions. He moved forward to stand before a massive mirror. In the mirror the old man's reflection did not show, but it was that of a Frost Giant. He clapped his hands and transformed into a massive Frost Giant, while the old man was now reflected in the mirror. He wore big brown leather boots and heavy tunics. His skin was a light blue and he had a great white beard that had chunks of ice interwoven in it like pieces of jewels. His voice was powerful, but friendly.

He told them a story, and explained that only one other man had ever showed him the kindness that they had when he had been dressed in his disguise as the old man. The man also fished and gave him food, and then came to the Frost Giant's citadel and was surprised to learn the truth of his identity. The man then fought him in contest and defeated the Frost Giant. For his bravery and skill in battle, and for his kindness, Belun presented him with the ring called the Sapphire of Stars.

Sarik said the name Raven Fireheart, and Belun nodded and smiled. Belun continued to speak, saying that he knew that many perils lay before them. The Frost Giant rose and as if that were a signal the wooden doors opened again and Huginn came forth with a long object covered by a silk cloth. The dwarf presented the object to Belun, then turned and departed, closing the door behind him.

Belun pulled back the silk cloth and let it flutter to the ground. What he held up was truly a treasure. It was an icesword he named Frost Star. He declared this would be their prize if they defeated him in a non-deadly spar. Sarik and his band agreed and Belun smiled. The Frost Giant went to the chamber's wall and hefted from it a large double bladed axe. He then cast an enchantment to let none of the blows fall with lethal power, and then Belun came forth for battle.

Belun swept up the massive double-bladed axe. The axe-heads were near the height of the dwarves, and with its handle it was twice their heights. They fell back. Jase launched two quick daggers at the oncoming Frost Giant, but he was not stayed. Belun roared a battle cry, and turned to the thief.

The dwarves had hurried away, while Dagen had rolled to his left to let the mighty opponent pass. Jase stood alone. He had no time to notch an arrow, and decided to drop his bow completely. The bow clattered on the floor as the thief drew the thin rapier at his side.

Jase was given no time to use it. Rather, he flung himself to the right as the huge axe cleaved the spot he had just previously stood. Standing quickly, Jase stabbed the thin blade of his sword forward. The sharp blade stuck into the thick hide of Belun's left boot. Belun roared again, and swinging his left foot backwards, he ripped the rapier from Jase's grasp, disarming him.

Jase stayed still, shocked with the ease that he had been left without a weapon. Belun, though, did not pause. The Frost Giant let loose his left hand from the axe hilt and in an outward backhand connected with Jase's body. Jase arched up and flew into the higher reaches of the chamber where he struck a wall and slowly slid down to lie in an unmoving bundle.

Jase appeared dead, and the others hesitated their advancement against the Frost Giant, but Belun shouted, "Your friend is out of the fight. He will lay there until it is over, but I assure you he is not harmed."

The words of the Frost Giant and the visual of their friend slumped against the wall was enough to drive the dwarves onward. They came forth with axe and war-hammer held high. They had fought together for a very long time, and knew each other's tactics well.

But, their combined might was not enough to prevail. The axe of the giant swung back and forth in two mighty strokes. Thus, the dwarves were hewn in combat. Their two bodies fell to the floor, their weapons clattered and rang. Sarik and Zain were removed from the competition.

Then, Dagen stood alone. Only he among his warrior friends was left to capture the grand prize at stake. The thought of holding the icesword in his grasp thrilled him. But, Dagen looked about him. He had seen how easily his friends had fallen. He did not know how he could triumph over the Frost Giant.

"It appears to be just us now," Belun said his voice deep and rumbling.

"Just us," Dagen said, nodding in agreement. "Frost Star will be mine."

The Frost Giant looked down upon the ice barbarian that stood below him. He noted the man's brimming confidence and saw the heat in his eyes. Dagen raised his blade before him and it gleamed a brilliant flash. Belun roared and swept his double-bladed axe down in a crushing arc.

Dagen did not move. He did not try to roll under the descent of the giant's attack. Rather in a quick stroke he parried the Frost Giant's blow. The clang of metal on metal resonated throughout the hall. But, Dagen stood still, his arms extended and not quivering. He had stayed the might of the giant with his own blow and Belun's eyes widened at the feat.

"I did not foresee such strength within your arms, barbarian," Belun said with true surprise littered in his voice.

"Strength does not always come from muscle alone," Dagen countered.

The ice barbarian quickly withdrew his sword and sidestepped the momentum of the previously restrained axe. The weight of the axe carried the Frost Giant forward. Dagen ducked under Belun's arms as the height of the giant came nearer to the ground. Belun saw what Dagen planned to do, but could not shift his weight in time. Dagen's sword flashed and there was great ring, like the tolling of a bell, and Belun's cloven helmet danced to the far end of the chamber.

Belun let loose a roar of anguish as he toppled. The axe fell to the floor unheeded. Dagen moved and stood at the neck of the fallen Frost Giant, his sword point at the Belun's throat.

"You are bested, Master Belun. I would like my prize now."

The words from Dagen's lips held neither boast nor threat. And as the Frost Giant rolled his eyes towards his adversary, there was a bright light there that reflected the smile spreading on Belun's lips.

"With pleasure, Master Vrance," Belun said with a deep chuckle. "Frost Star is yours."

Chapter 8: The Cave of Darkness

After the mock battle with the Frost Giant Belun, there was a feast and much merry making. Belun took the form of the old man Nuleb to make the adventurers more comfortable at the long table upon which they ate. Huginn and Muninn sat at the end of the table with their master. All told tales of adventure and Belun told epics of war and romance.

The entertainment went deep into the night until Belun's servants showed the travelers to their rooms, each with a snug bed and a warm hearth. When the Starsun rose bright and clear the following morning, the travelers found their packs filled with supplies of food for their long journey ahead. Belun, Huginn, and Muninn said their goodbyes to Sarik, Dagen, Zain, and Jase at the door of the Citadel of Blue Frost. The travelers were sad at the departure, but were delighted to have enjoyed the experience of their new friendships.

The travelers departed and when Belun's citadel was on the edge of the horizon the travelers turned and waved their farewell. The travelers did not see, but three hands returned the wave. The travelers went west until the sunset. The last rays of the day's Starsun appeared as mingled fire in the thick white clouds that rested on the waves of the wind.

They camped and ate peacefully on food packed by the dwarves of Belun. Sleep came easily after the long day of marching, and in the morning the travelers were well rested and prepared for the long day ahead of them. Their journey west to the Cave of Darkness was as uneventful as the trip from the Shadowed Vale to the Citadel of Blue Frost.

The travelers came to the edge of both Black Haven Forest and the Iron Mountains. The light here became dim and the aura of evil resonated from the dark woods. They came closer and as the Starsun's light disappeared behind the mountains. The band of adventurers came across the Cave of Darkness.

Torches were lit and Sarik motioned for his band to follow him into the cave. As he moved forward there was a rustling in the woods behind them and howls of horror rose up in defiance to the band of heroes.

"Quickly! Into the cave!" Sarik shouted.

They sped within, as the rustling and howls grew nearer and louder. Thumping booms were added to the hideous chorus as what pursued them moved closer. Within the cave, all became black. Their torches burned, but were hard put to light the veil of darkness.

"A spell is on this place," said Zain from the shadows. He tried to cast spells of light, but none would work.

Outside the faint shadow of something could be seen moving towards the cave's entrance. What light that remained from the failing day showed that the being seemed to be massive and multi-limbed. It shook its limbs, which gave off a great swooshing sound. Its eyes were a dim green, dark and eerily penetrating. The creature opened its unseen mouth and a loud sound like a deep horn boomed.

In the darkness, Jase began fitting an arrow to his bow. Sarik, seeing the thief's shadow, held his torch up and lit the end of the arrow.

"Shoot!" Sarik yelled.

The arrow flicked away at full speed towards the entrance of the cave. Jase quickly began notching another arrow. Sarik lit it. Jase released it.

The second arrow hummed through the air and thudded into the creature near the first arrow. Soon, a glow started to emulate from without. The creature was catching fire. Soon, its true form was revealed.

"It's some kind of tree," Zain breathed in disbelief.

"Keep shooting it!" Dagen yelled.

Three more arrows were lit and fired into the Great Old Oak, which had stood guard to the Cave of Darkness for centuries. He was the ruler of Black Haven Forest, a land, which had been cursed in a time before Stirlyn's recorded history. The Great Old Oak now burned and crackled from the fire spreading across his body. The Great Old Oak bellowed his horn voice again as he went into a frenzy and burned. Dirt began to shake loosed from the cavern walls overhead and stone began to crumble and break as the wild limbs of the tree-monster flailed about in fury and pain.

"The entrance is going to collapse. Move back! Move back!" cried Sarik.

The four travelers began to flee backwards. They ran into each other and into the walls of the cave. Another roar went up to join that of the Great Old Oak. The entrance of the cave gave way to the mighty fury of the tree-monster and collapsed.

It was over. Everything was quiet. The tree-monster was on the other side of what seemed to be now an impenetrable wall of stone and dirt. Sarik's voice ventured out to the stilled silence, calling cautiously for his friends. As each voice came back telling of their safety, the dwarf let loose a sigh of relief.

The four travelers quickly regrouped with each other. Both of the lit torches had been put out from the falling soot of the cave-in. These torches were soon re-lit, along with five others. Each of the party would carry two torches, save Dagen, who carried one and Frost Star. The light cut the darkness enough for them to see each other and the outlines of the walls of the cave. Huddled together with concentrated light, they could only manage to see about ten feet in any direction.

"It would appear we have only one path to take," Zain breathed half-heartedly. With that they traveled deep into the darkness under the mountains.

...

Time ceased to make sense. The path, which they were on curved and dipped and scaled upwards in height. Sound was lost in this space under the mountains. The feeling here was not right. Even the dwarves grew anxious and concerned.

But, they carried on. Minutes and hours seemed the same. Weariness seamed to sink into the soul, rather than their bodies. There was nothing to do but to carry on.

After what may have had been an hour, a day, or a century, the tunnel they followed gave way to a large domed chamber. The light of their torches escaped here, showing the high edges of jagged rock that made up the chamber's ceiling, hundreds of feet above them. Nothing here was ornate or seemed to have been crafted by the hands of any living being, but neither did it seem completely natural.

From the illumination of the light, each of the four travelers could see an opening on the far side of the domed chamber. It was the continuation of the tunnel. None wished to tally any longer in this place than they must, thus they wordlessly continued on. As the travelers passed what may have been the center of the domed hall under the looming mountains, a wind blew.

The wind, having no earthly or atmospheric foundation, whipped and blew wildly. The travelers, before registering the oddness of such an occurrence, hid their faces from the arctic blowing. The wind quickly extinguished their seven burning torches, taking all light away from them. The travelers tried to cry out to each other, but before they were able to do so, they heard other words...

Thus, all became introduced to The Whispers of Madness.

...

Darkness fell. Then, light appeared, small and ornate, like sprinkles across the great basin. The light was dim, like sparkling jewels in the great distance of the canopy of Darkness. Blink. Greater light appeared. Swirling masses of it intertwined in a rhythmic dance. Blink. Multiplication.

The Forever Night Sea drifted in its apparent infinity. Islands turned slowly against the burning lights. Worlds both lush and ravished worked their way through the cosmic ballet. The immensity of it all crushed the mind.

A song drifted now on the solar winds. It pulled the cosmic threads unseen by eyes or measurements, but it was there. The song was dim like the distant lights, a faint echo. There were no rightful words, nor ancient tongue in which the song had been composed, but words it spoke anyway.

"Come dance with me. Come learn my secrets," it spoke calmly and clearly.

Worlds, stars, galaxies and nebulas flashed by in a bright expanse of color. The conscious mind burned from all of its glory, unable to take it all in. Knowledge and wonderment of unimagined proportions within grasp. Answers.

"Come dance with me. Come learn my secrets," the song said calmly and clearly.

A swift rush pulled up short. Great towers loomed in the dark distance. They were floodgates that held back the storm, which lay beyond. Forbidden Truth.

"Come dance with me. Come learn my secrets," the song pleaded strongly.

Unknown hands, crafted by unimagined thought, had constructed Ultuma. Great balconies looked out into the unknown vacancies. The climb took only a swift moment. Passage beyond was barred.

"Come dance with me. Come learn my secrets," the song urged desperately.

The Beyond. The Void. The Unknown. Outside the Forever Night Sea. Eternal Questions.

"Come dance with me. Come learn my secrets," a voice raged violently.

One step would be all it would take. The song, the voice urged it, pleaded it, persuaded it. "Do it," it said cunningly. "All will be revealed! Grasp it! Take it! What is your answer?"

Silence.

Uncertainty.

Confusion.

Desire.

Silence.

"No!" It was echoed four times.

Silence broken.

Shrieks of Madness.

Reduced Whispering.

Swift retreat.

Ultuma, galaxies, nebulas, stars, and worlds both lush and ravished flashed by. The song raged and receded in its own dispensation. Echoes softened and darkness returned. The first sounds regained were those of breathing. A beacon of life, an illuminated passage, and the exit out of Darkness could be seen now. The path was taken, the unbidden knowledge was forsaken, and four lives were saved. The Whispers of Madness was left behind.

Chapter 9: Fire Dark Keep

The travelers emerged from the Cave of Darkness to a hold still beneath the height of the Iron Mountains. The height was beyond that of the domed chamber, lifting to pinnacle of the snow-capped peak, without being in the breath of the world. But, there was darkness here too, held with the orange glow of fire.

There before them was a tower wreathed in flame and darkness. They stood in front of the rising tower in sudden doubt. The tower seemed to be the citadel of hell. Even the brave Sarik Moonwater trembled from a moment of uncontrolled fear. At the tower's entrance there was a fire burning, blocking the way into the keep beyond. No passage could be found going around the great tower.

Dagen Vrance came forward. His brow was creased in thought and worry. But, he put aside his trepidations and fear and Frost Star he hefted, and he stabbed the flames with his icesword. He looked back to his companions as the flames were extinguished, and flashed them a grim smile.

Great was the Keep, and each of its levels held many rooms and passages, causing a maze meant to trap victims within the blistering tower. Foes there were, wreathed in flame, and adorned with black smoke. They came from all sides of the shadows and dimmed darkness. Much wrath they held towards the living, but the icesword brandished by Dagen kept them at bay or swept them away.

Many days and nights under the hold of the mountain, they traveled upwards. The doors and stairwells were locked, which only keys of magical properties would unlock. Traps were laid for them and set off, some of which were great opening pits that tried to swallow them into the deep. Other chambers held heaped treasure, but all held an ill look, as if curses of great evil lingered upon them. None of the gold or jewels from these piles were touched or taken.

Slowly, but ever assuredly, they ascended to the upper heights. Crypts were found on these levels, great sarcophaguses and tombs of stone and regal beauty. But, these places of the dead ushered forces of bone and rotting flesh. The mindless beings tried to use rendering limbs to overpower the travelers, but axe and hammer were ever at the forefront, smashing already ruined bodies apart.

At last they came to the upper level. Here the mazes of the floors below were no more. The stair that led here fed into an introductory chamber, which was adjacent to a long narrow hall. The hall was smooth and polished, like volcanic glass. The hallway gave way to the throne room, which was not unoccupied.

Here the master of the tower stayed in his ever-silence, brooding over the ages in which he has mastered alone. Upon a throne of burnt ashen wood he sat, wreathed in a cloak of twirling darkness, like a storm cloud. Only his eyes could be seen, two orbs like reddish moonlight glowing on a night bred for wickedness. A dark arm moved away from his self-embrace and long dark fingers touched softly a small case, which rested on a table next to the tall throne.

"Here lies the Crystal Eyes of the Past," the Master of Fire Dark Keep said. His voice was like the breaking of thunder, both violent and muffled. "I have an understanding of your journey. For I was forced to entertain the one you seek. I do not believe you are powerful enough to confront him, but I have been wrong before," his voice trailed off.

"So," he began again like a crack of lightning. "You say little and do not apologize for entering my domain without cause or invitation. That does not sit well with me. But, I am sure you do, as you believe you must. And to do what you shall, you must first vanquish me and take this key to continue onward," he said, indicating the Crystal Eyes of the Past.

"Now, let me see what strength you possess," he boomed with cracking laughter.

The Master of Fire Dark Keep swept off his throne like a gusting cloud. He landed shortly before the travelers. Unwrapping himself, his cloak fluttered with flashing lightning, while a long slender dark blade he drew from an unseen scabbard soon was lit with burning flame.

"Back!" Dagen yelled to his companions. "Your weapons will be useless against such sorcery! Only I can conquer here."

Laughter and rolling thunder answered. "A duel it is then, master barbarian?" the Master of the Keep asked. "A mighty weapon you wield," he said, looking upon the icesword. "It has the look of being forged by the servants of Belun, my neighbor to the east," he said in admiration.

"Yes," Dagen responded coming forward, alone. "Behold Frost Star! It will be your undoing!"

"Then, let us ride the storm of ice and flame," the Master of the Keep snarled as he came onward.

Then for great long moments unfolded a duel of mastery over enchanted elements. Flame flashed and ice countered with glistening brilliance. Light shimmered as brightness and darkness weaved its tapestry. But, the smithy work of Huginn and Muninn surpassed that of the forging of the firesword by unknown hands in years long forgotten. The fire of the flickering blade was extinguished by the vapor of glittering ice, and the wielder of the failed brand was smote to his ruin.

Thus, Dagen Vrance stood victorious over a foe that dissipated and was no more. He moved forth, and nearing the throne he looked long at the treasure that rested below. What he saw were crystal spectacles, adorned with a line of diamonds over the arched brim. He took the spectacles from the enclosure, in which they sat. And looking up he saw a stair that twirled downward, hidden by the tall expanse of the throne. Motioning his companions forward, Dagen led them down the stair and they followed the way until they came out from a tunnel that led them back to the open cavern on the other side of Fire Dark Keep.

Chapter 10: The Crypts of Stirlyn

The travelers left the tower and behind them it gave a great shudder. There was a crack like unleashed thunder and the tower burst asunder, exploding in flame. They turned as one to watch the riven fragments being flung into the high reaches of the mountains surrounding the fallen tower. The travelers turned and fled as the hot chunks of stone rained down upon them. They ran into the eerie darkness for miles until the clinging blackness receded, giving way to a distant green glow.

The party slowed and drew cautiously to the source of light. They could tell that the mountains were ending. A shocked expression from Zain held them up. Dagen and Sarik looked at their cleric friend; while Jase kept looking off in the distance wishing he were anywhere but there. Zain raised his right hand and pointed up and ahead. They followed his gaze and saw at the end of the mountains two massive monuments lining each side of the pass.

The monuments seemed to have been chiseled out of the mountain stone, but held the realism of two guardian minotaurs. They edged closer and as they did they saw that the pale green light came from the sockets of the stone minotaurs. Covering the pass where the two guardians stood from each other was a static hissing blue field, barring anything from passing beyond. They stopped and peered up at the stone creatures, wondering what their fate would be if they would cross the static field.

Dagen reached into his pack and removed the trophy they had received from Fire Dark Keep. He held up the Crystal Eyes of the Past and then presented them to Zain, being the member of their party that was a cleric. Zain took the spectacles and placed them on his face. Color changed, and the cleric saw a yellow glow he had not noticed before.

On the base of the left pillar of the stone Minotaur there was a glowing handprint. Zain proceeded cautiously forward. Coming to the base he looked at the handprint and dwelled for many moments in thought. Finally, he placed his own hand over the glowing outline.

There was a brilliant flash, which made the travelers cover their eyes. Then the blue field and green glow were both gone. They continued on and the mountains fell away leaving only the Valley of the Kings stretching out before them. It was a vast desert, cold and eerily quiet. A cold wind blew across the land causing swirling clouds of dust and sand.

Their march across the Valley of the Kings was slow, seeing only the brown vastness and the distant rise of the Iron Mountains that surrounded their view. They proceeded onward warily. The mountains grew taller and mightier still, and soon they saw a massive temple in the mountainside. They approached the temple, and as they saw the opening to the Crypts of Stirlyn there was a great rumbling and the earth shook.

A small chasm opened in the desert floor and suddenly rising out of the depths of the sand came the ancient protector of the kings' burial place, a great wingless wyrm. But, it did not attack. Rather, it looked long at each of them, peering deeply into their eyes. A forked tongue flickered occasionally from the serpent's mouth as it read the intent of their souls. As it finished, it slithered back into its chasm, and the ground closed behind it. The way to the Crypts of Stirlyn was laid open before them.

Entering, they came into a place that had long collected dust and sand. A long hall lined with ornate tombs of kings stretched to a wall carved from mountain stone. There was no hint of evil here, no traces of foul footsteps that had stained or tainted a resting place of long dead monarchs. The high ceiling and walls were gilded gold, their gleam dulled from unkempt centuries.

The travelers moved across the hall unhindered. At the far end of the chamber they came to a stairwell that led down into the depths of the mountain crypt. The travelers proceeded cautiously and descended down the stairwell. They lit torches as darkness cast its cape about them.

They were placed on another level of the crypt, which seemed nearly identical to the previous one. Here, along with the rows of tombs, were statues. The statues represented great lives of men in depictions of battle or regal peace. All were portrayed with nobility in the flickering light. The statues and tombs fell behind them as they came to a second stair.

The stair seemed to travel to dark depths far below the surface. The air became damp and chilled as the recesses of sunlight were utterly forgotten. Here, upon the stair, time was forgotten. In an age it seemed they came at last to the stair's bottom and the chamber it led to. The chamber was small, damp, and cold. Worse yet to the travelers, it was empty.

"What is this?" Jase asked in surprise and building anger. "We did not travel all this way for a dead end!" The thief looked back and forth to his companions expecting to see their tempers smoldering.

Jase did not get the reaction he sought. Rather, he saw three faces that had the look of deep thought.

Zain came forward holding his torch up to spread the light more evenly across the room. "I do not think someone tunneled all this way down here to build this simple chamber. Especially, when the tombs and statues of this country's kings rest in the open for any raider to plunder."

Zain looked at Sarik and Dagen, and smiled. Dagen nodded and Sarik smirked a smile. Jase looked back and forth to each of them as if they had all gone mad. The thief's rage was bubbling now. Something was going on and his friends were somehow all on the same page when he did not own the right book.

"What is going on fools?" Jase yelled, not being able to take it any longer.

"Here, hold my torch and I will show you," Zain answered. The cleric forced the lit brand into the confused man's hand. Jase looked at the torch. His face gave off the reflection that he did not understand how it had arrived there.

Zain pulled from a pouch the Crystal Eyes of the Past. Unfolding the valuable spectacles, he placed them on his wide face. Just like he had seen with the Minotaur statues, Zain witnessed a hand signature positioned on one of the walls. Placing his hand on the handprint caused the walls to begin to rumble. Sand and ancient soot shifted as one of the walls parted down the middle, creating a pathway to a revealed chamber beyond.

Zain took back his torch with a smile as Jase looked on in confusion. Sarik patted the thief on the back and Dagen chuckled as he moved by the stunned silent man. The two dwarves and the barbarian moved into the chamber. Jase finally broke from his spell and rushed to join them.

The chamber was as small as the one they had just left. No decoration adorned the walls, and no statues rose up in majesty. There was but one object in the chamber. It was an Emerald Orb resting on a decaying wooden pedestal. Moving forward, Sarik reached down and took it. There were no traps, no minions of the enemy. Just like that it was theirs. They now possessed all three of the precious gems.

Chapter 11: The Dungeon of Telladin and the Mountain of the Ice Drake

With possession of the third Emerald Orb, the travelers made their way from the crypt of the ancient kings of Stirlyn. But, their journey was in doubt. For the path of which they had come was blocked to them. And passage from that route would be to no avail.

But, despair did not set in, though Jase was ready to give way to grief. Zain brought forth once again the Crystal Eyes of the Past, and placed the spectacles upon his face. Looking forth, Zain turned his gaze to the Iron Mountains to the south, and leading to those tall peaks was a path outlined in the desert. This the travelers followed to the base of the mountain range.

The mountains were tall, snow-capped, and mightily beautiful. Their peaks were razor-sharp daggers cloaked in clouds. Their base was a gray-slated stone wilderness where nothing grew. But, the outlined path shown forth by the magical glasses brought them to stair anciently etched into the rising height.

The stair was broken and fragmented. It was a loose collection of rubble, but a brilliant work of the older-world fallen almost into complete ruination. But, the travelers believed it possibly passable. Besides, it was their only choice.

They waited till the next daybreak, when the Starsun shed its light across the plain in its awakening. Then they began their ascent, moving slowly up the height that placed them nearly vertical in several locations. Dagen nearly fell once, saved only by his adopted father from a drop of certain doom. Jase was eerily quiet, his fear overcoming his desire to whine.

By midday they had reached a plateau on the peak on which they climbed. Here the sheer rise in elevation leveled off and a more natural path led them to the greater heights of the mountain they scaled. They took to this path slowly and with ease, soothing them from the trepidations of the earlier climb. But the slowness of the advance was more than the calming of rattled nerves, for the higher they went the view of beauty of that which they witnessed intensified.

They made camp at the falling of the day's light. At the altitude the air became frigidly cold, but overhead the sight of the sky they witnessed warmed them with wonder. Sleep and dreams came easy under the dome of darkness and bright-jeweled stars, and as day broke all weariness was washed away.

They continued their journey and made it soon to a pass that led them forth to the other side of the Iron Mountains. Here the panorama of Stirlyn was laid out before them. Its vastness of lakes and forests and rolling hills and fields revealed to them. The land's long miles seemed quaint and the gathering storm of war and darkness appeared nonexistent in the unfolding leagues. But, appearances are not always a truthful depiction, even though they may remind one why their duty matters.

The path then led down from the clear height into an ancient road that traversed the many peaks of the great mountain range. The sight of other things became lost to them. There was only the twisting and turning through rock and stone. Here and there were bridges spanning across several crevasses. The bridges had been made from excellent craftsmanship, and the dwarves discussed the possibility of an ancient stronghold of their kin nearby.

But, the knowledge of a secret Dwarven stronghold within the mountains would remain unknown, for their adventure had steered them on another course. So they moved forth, content to only dream of the secret halls and hordes of treasure that may have been close at hand.

Thus, their journey continued onward. They came to the end of the mountains and took to the path that led steadily downward. It placed them in a field littered sparsely with trees. As they turned and looked to the path from which they had come they witnessed nothing. The path was concealed to their eyes, so the pass remained secret as they went south.

They camped that night under the shadow of the mountains. The party spoke openly of their quest as the flames of their fire crackled in chorus. The map that had been sketched during their exploration of the Old Fortress of the Watch was brought forth and studied.

All agreed upon continuing south until they reached the West Road. Then they would follow the road until it crossed both borders of West Lannerdan Forest. There they alter their course south once again where they would head to the Mountains of Darkness, while searching for the Emerald Ruins.

At daybreak they readied themselves and left. The journey was slow across the dusty road and uneventful. The days passed by as the Starsun overhead made its rotations over the world.

They came then to the edges of West Lannerdan Forest. The tree limbs were long and bent over the path making an entrance to the green-gold land within. They entered and moved along a world that seemed untouched by time.

That evening they camped in a clearing where the road widened and the trees became thin overhead letting the stars shine down upon them. The fire they made was small, but warm and they sat near to it listening to the sounds of the echoing forest. Zain feeling at ease told his companions of a hero he had learned of in his youth, a man named Lorand.

Lorand was forced on a quest to save existence, and he journeyed forth braving many adventures until he came to the island of Mahanee. There he met an ancient civilization that guarded the temple of the creator. Lorand was imprisoned, but befriended his guard and talked him into allowing him to escape. The guard did so full well knowing he would pay for this with his life. Lorand then climbed the mountain of Leakala and came to the place where the sun and the creator lived.

At the rising of the sun, Lorand declared to the fiery heavens that he would be the sacrifice to set the world right. The sun incinerated him and through his sacrifice the world was saved. The story ended and Zain hid his wet eyes behind his hand. The rest of the evening the adventurers told and listened to tales of long ago.

As light filtered through the foliage at dawn, the companions found themselves surrounded by a band of elves. Arrows were notched and swords were drawn, with the companions daring not to move, knowing they would be cut down if they did. A young elf came forward to speak. He was young and his golden hair blew in an unfelt breeze.

"I am Rice Lenlil, Prince of the city Telladin, of the Kingdom of West Lannerdan Forest. Who are you? Why are you in my land? What quest brings adventurers from darkened Stirlyn to last bastion untouched by Golmar Raxlyn?"

Sarik Moonwater stood slowly. He bowed to the elf prince and introduced himself. "I am Sarik Moonwater, and these are my trusted friends and companions. If you will have ears I will tell you our tale and prove that we are not servants of any enemy."

So it was, Sarik recanted the tale of all their adventures together and the elves were amazed, and Prince Lenlil looked on in deep thought. The Prince motioned for his soldiers to lower their weapons, which they gladly did. It was then that the Emerald Orbs were displayed to prove the validity of the dwarf's tale.

Rice Lenlil was quiet for many moments as all eyes looked to him. It was then that he produced a treasure of his own for the adventurers to witness and the elven soldiers murmured with shock at what was displayed. It was a small stone that glinted a golden yellow with the day's light.

"This is the Heir's Jewel," Rice Lenlil started. "Never has this gem been seen by outsiders of my people. I will loan this to you as witness of my trust. You will take this to my father, the King, in Telladin. I have orders that I must complete, but I will spare two of my men to guide you there. You must complete any task my father asks of you to receive the aid of my people. For our aid you will need to complete your journey to the Emerald Ruins within the mountains."

Rice Lenlil then came to Sarik and handed him the Heir's Jewel. Sarik and his companions all bowed to the prince, and to their surprise the prince bowed back. With quick hand signals by Rice, two soldiers stepped forward to act as guides, while the rest of the elves turned and dissipated into the woods.

...

The city of the elves stood in a clearing in the forest. Tall towers and spires rose only as high as the tall trees concealing the position of the city. This city's walls and buildings were crafted by precious stones and jewels mined from the mountains to the south and hand-tended over many long years. When sunlight struck Telladin, the city lit up and appeared to be the true end of a rainbow.

Sarik and the others were brought to the central tower in the city. It was forged from rubies and sat bright and full of the Starsun's flame in the early evening. Up many steps fully made of marble with traces of crushed diamonds they had to ascend before they came to the high chamber of the King of Telladin.

The four travelers bowed before the elven king. King Lenlil stood and asked for his new guests also to rise. They did, and Sarik brought out the Heir's Jewel and gave it to the king. The king took his son's birthright knowing that the travelers before him must have grave deeds to achieve if Rice was willing to part with his most treasured possession. He also knew that those before them were true, for he judged them men who knew the worth of the gem they carried, and they brought it directly here in hope of aid.

King Lenlil spoke to his guests and told them that they first must face the challenge of the Dungeon of Telladin before the lives of its people would risk themselves for another's cause. The travelers understood and asked to be brought to the dungeon. Then they were brought to a great stone edifice, guarded by many elven soldiers. Pulling back the gate, King Lenlil explained they must retrieve the Rune Stone of Power. Only then would the elves aid them in their quest. Thus, they entered and were swallowed by the darkness within.

Long were they in that dark foreboding place of stone. They encountered many trials and puzzles, mysteries of dark origins, and foes of terrible might. They searched through mazes, and found hidden passages. But, they fought their way through and by strength of arms retrieved the Rune Stone of Power.

Coming back to the world of light they were bathed from the horrible memories they had acquired down below in the depths. The sunlight splashed upon them and erased the darkness, which had tainted their souls. They felt reborn. But, they could remember nothing that had befallen them below in the Dungeon of Telladin.

In their confused state, the travelers soon realized they had accomplished a great feat. For the response of the elves was a grand celebration. That night they dined with the elves, and wine flowed and songs echoed into the deep hours of the night. Come morning, the king called for them. And going to his palace they took with them the Rune Stone of Power, which they had brought forth out of darkness.

The king took the Rune Stone of Power and placed it above his throne. He then granted two guides to take the travelers to the hidden path that led up the snowy slopes of the Mountain of the Ice Drake so that they might find the key to their quest. The guides were tall and fair. Their hair gold and long, their eyes were like those of eagles and they carried ash wood bows and slender sabers on their hips.

Their names were Avar Talenti and Shailun Bele, and they led the travelers forth on a mission that was the direst for the land of Stirlyn. As they left the protective walls the elves sang in sad tones and played their harps and flutes. The Starsun was setting in the west and in the star's light the towers of Telladin gleamed brilliantly. Avar and Shailun led the march for most of the night until they halted the journey to rest.

The elves slept little and an hour before the rising Starsun they were tugging on the bedrolls of the travelers to wake them for the long day's journey. They interwove through the tall grass of the plain that lay before the Mountains of Darkness. The land began to rise as they approached the tall peak that was wreathed in doom. Snow began to fall in heavy flakes and the elves continually peered upward as they expected the mountain to topple upon them at any moment.

They traveled crossing over boulders and stomping through the growing thickness of snow. At last when Avar and Shailun had led them to the southwestern part of the mountain they stopped at what seemed a stone of ancient ruin. There Avar motioned the rest of them back and came forward alone to the stone. His hands began to glow as he softly enchanted a spell of working. The light danced from Avar's hands and struck the stone. The stone pulsed a blue light and there was a crack and rotating up the high reaches of the mountain appeared a stairway.

The adventurers moved toward the stairway when Avar stopped them. He clasped Sarik's arm and wished him well. He sent Shailun back to Telladin and told the travelers he would wait for them there at the stairway's beginning. With that they ascended up the side of the mountain.

...

The weather grew colder as they went to levels of higher elevation. Snow fell thick and white ruled everything. The wind too was an assaulting enemy. It howled and blew, as if its breath was a curse upon all living things upon the mountain. They crept on, wondering if their lives could be sustained, or under the attack of the mountain they would fail in their quest and come to ruin.

As the Starsun crept and descended into the shadow of gray clouds and evening, the temperature continued to drop. The travelers stopped to make camp, but could not produce a fire in the wind. They would not survive throughout the night in the open against the forces the mountain threw at them. They knew this, so they did the only thing they could do; they continued onward.

They were slowed now, either by wind or snow, or freezing limbs. Death was creeping upon them. The will of life was draining from them. They all understood this, but soon, one by one, all began to accept this. Even Dagen Vrance, an ice-barbarian, could not resist the mountain.

"Dark enchantments are upon this place," Dagen muttered once against the moaning of the wind. He said no more about dark spells, for he was dying and he knew it. Zain also understood the forces against them, for his spells for fire were thwarted as well. Sarik said nothing; he was resigned to accept the hand of fate dealt to him. Jase whimpered wordlessly to himself.

The Starsun set, and the twirling stars overhead were veiled by the storm of the mountain. Darkness set in, and the freezing temperature sank to new horrid levels. It felt like frozen fire, and soon all felt the great urge to lie down and rest in an eternal sleep. The travelers stopped, wishing to go no further. Even Jase did not protest.

They stopped and sat in the banks of the snow. They were numb now. Their lives would soon fail, and their souls would drift away with the blowing of the frigid wind. Death crept closer; the black tunnel of the Void seemed just up ahead, darker than the blanket of night.

Sarik looked towards the perceived omen of death. He saw its dark outline. He studied it curiously, knowing he would know its answers soon enough. The dwarf sank lower into the snow, becoming eye level with it. Funny, he thought, how the Void had no snow in it. He only hoped it would be warmer there.

A thought nagged at the back of the old dwarf's mind. It was a thought that contained only two words, no snow. Looking at the tunnel of the Void, he saw that even though death was creeping closer, the tunnel was not, and there was no snow.

He tried to sharpen his thoughts in his freezing state. Though, his mind seemed almost as numb as his limbs, he willed it to work. Thoughts of reason worked their way through his slowed brain. The idea of no snow in death's tunnel, which would not approach any closer, brought him to a realization that he vocalized, "There's a tunnel just ahead."

Three heads turned towards Sarik as hope and adrenaline pumped through the dwarf's veins, slightly reviving him. Sarik made his way to his feet, nearly stumbling and falling for good, as he pointed up ahead. "Get up!" he growled at his freezing friends. "Get up for your lives!"

Sarik surged forward. He grabbed Jase by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to his feet. Jase was mumbling incoherently. Sarik turned around to look at the others. Dagen was getting to his feet, the dim life in his eyes brightening for an unlooked for hope. He helped Zain to his feet as they trampled onward through the blizzard.

They came to the mouth of the tunnel, which Sarik had previously thought was the gaping opening of the wilderness of death. He entered and was lost in the darkness, but the wind faded. The others came in as well, and Sarik did what he could to move them further away from the mouth of the cave. When the view of the outside had completely faded, the four travelers stopped and rested on the cold rocky floor of the cave.

Shivering, Sarik told Dagen to try and start a fire. This time, without the thwarting wind, the barbarian was successful. Tinder, brought with them from the forest far below, soon burned warm and bright. Limbs were warmed and the flame of life soon was restored after nearly being extinguished. After they had warmed themselves, they slept. They did not leave a lookout awake. They had survived death on the outer slopes of the mountain, and they were willing to gamble for the luxury of a well-earned night's sleep.

When they awoke, it was morning. The tunnel, which the previous night had seemed as dark as death was now bright and illuminated. Next to the four travelers the remnants of the evening's fire burned in the form of hot embers. But, the glowing leftovers were not the source of light. Outside, the Starsun shone unhindered overhead, and its beams danced and were reflected from the sheets of ice in the cave.

The four travelers did not waste words about their lucky escape from death the previous night. Rather, being campaigners that had been near the clutches of death many times, they forgot it and moved on. Dagen and Jase lit and carried torches for warmth after a quick breakfast of dried jerky was consumed.

They followed the path of the cave, which ascended. It was a cave that did not give off secondary paths, rather contained the one route that went ever upwards. Sarik and Dagen both believed they were headed in the right direction. The Emerald Ruins was said to be on the other side of the Mountain of the Ice Drake, and they had been told it was only reachable by first going to the mountain's summit, for somewhere up there was the key to that ancient place.

They continued their path through mid-morning. Around what they judged to be noon, they stopped, ate, and rested. They moved on. The climbing upwards went on for hours, until the light began to fade and glow a reddish-gold. The path leveled out.

The cave ended and gave way to an elongated cliff that rested high over a great precipice. Snow fell gently here, no longer the great torrent it was the day before. At the far end of the cliff, against a sheer, steep wall, rested an ancient treasure chest. The chest was tinged blue from frost and only covered lightly by flecks of fallen snow. It cast a strange gleam, indicating its importance. The four stopped.

"The key to the ruins must reside within the chest," Zain said as he started to make his way across the clearing of the cliff. A hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder. There was strength in that grip and it pulled the dwarf back and halted him. Zain looked back with wide eyes registering his shock. It was Jase that held him back.

"Stay put," Jase said cautiously. There was a far-off look in his eyes as he scanned the surrounding area. "This has the feel of a trap my friend."

It was, in fact, very eerily quiet. The gusts of blowing winds had faded and the falling snow, even though light, fell no more. Sarik and Dagen looked around, their unease was apparent. Zain looked upwards to the height of the mountain. They were near the top, with only the rising wall seeming the last bastion of the rock formed citadel. Jase looked thoughtfully at the ground.

Jase let loose of Zain and moved slowly forward. His head was now cocked as if he strained to listen for something he expected. The others began to listen as well. Soon, there was sound, but it seemed distant as if the mountain moaned from within. The moan built upon itself and soon became a wailing and then a great grinding.

It sounded as if rocks were being shattered. It sounded as if tunnels below were collapsing. Sarik took a quick glance over the edge of the precipice and saw stone tumbling away down into a deep white abyss. He turned to the others in confusion, but had no words for his tangled thoughts.

The ground now began to shake. Jase looked to his friends and yelled for them to get back. They moved slowly backwards coming close to the cave. Jase looked thoughtfully across the way to the treasure chest that sat there tauntingly waiting. He knew he could not make it in time, but went anyway.

"Jase!" Zain yelled as his friend ran towards to the blue chest.

The cleric's voice was swallowed by cracking stone as the ground in the center of the cliff burst asunder. Rock and chunks of ice rained down. The travelers opposite of Jase covered themselves to protect against the flying debris. Zain unshielded his face and looked for his friend. He caught a glimpse of him working the lock of the chest, and then he disappeared from view.

A great monolith had just arisen from the frozen ground and obscured the vision of the precipice. The massive mound was like a pillar of ice, white and hardened, with plated scales rising up its base. The object swayed in the absent wind, curving back and forth. Zain slowly looked up the scaling height, slowly ascending its bending curves until he witnessed its summit. Horror took him.

"The Ice Drake," Zain muttered, and tried again to look for his friend trapped against the mountain wall.

Zain heard both Sarik and Dagen gasp beside him as they too witnessed the creature's massive maw. Great mandibles clattered together in anticipation of feasting upon warm flesh. A seemingly milky white mist clouded the Ice Drake's eyes, but its vision was not hindered. Large nostrils puffed out misty frost; the air seemed to freeze at its admittance.

Zain began casting a spell. Steel would not work here. Putting away his war-hammer words began to formulate on his lips. His hands he brought together as a ball of liquid flame began to form. He held his hands high above his head and the fiery orb jettisoned away from his grasp towards the master of the mountain.

The ball of flame impacted against the frost worm. The Ice Drake was knocked backwards, but recoiled. Lifting its head to the sky, the beast let loose a shrill cry. The sound was ear piercing and caused banks of snow to fall from above.

Zain started casting another fireball. Flames began to crackle about his hands causing warmth. The Ice Drake focused its attention squarely on the cleric as it poised to strike. But, the strike was stayed, as its attention was drawn to another source. Jase was calling out from the other side of the plateau.

"I have the key," the thief's voice rang out, but there were undertones of pain in the call.

The Ice Drake swiveled. It shifted swiftly, turning its bulk to glare down at Jase behind it. The movement allowed Zain to see past the creature and see his friend. Jase lay next to the open treasure chest holding a large key in his upraised hand. But, the thief's legs were smashed, crushed by a large stone that had broken off from the steep wall at the creature's bellow of pain.

Jase looked up briefly at the Ice Drake glaring down at him. He then shifted his viewpoint back to Zain. Their eyes locked, and the cleric could read the doom in the man's eyes. Jase hefted up the key and threw it with all his might. The key sailed through the air, and then bounced off of rock and ice to land before Zain's feet.

The cleric reached down to pick up the key as his spell dissipated from lack of concentration. Holding the key in his hand he looked back to his friend. Their eyes met for one last time. The word run formed on Jase's lips as a great torrent of frozen air emitted from the Ice Drake engulfed the injured man.

Zain yelled, looking through the clearing fog he witnessed Jase as a frozen sculpture. He saw this only for a moment, for the Ice Drake swooped down, and with its mandibles shattered Jase into a thousand riven fragments. Jase was dead.

"Run! To the cave!" Zain roared as he turned and fled. Sarik and Dagen followed without question. They barely made it to the cave just as the Ice Drake was sweeping upon them from behind. The monster crashed against the top of the cave trying to bring down rock to stop their escape. The frost worm succeeded in closing the entrance to the tunnel, but the three remaining travelers were already inside and out of reach.

Chapter 12: The Emerald Ruins

Avar smiled as he watched the band of travelers descend from the high tops of the mountain. They came towards him and this time he clasped arms with each of them. He noticed the absence of Jase, but said nothing. He knew that the young man must have perished upon the great heights.

As he congratulated them he also handed them an old map, one that would direct them to their final destination, the Emerald Ruins. Avar looked at them all as he prepared to go back to his home and told them he knew they would meet again. With that he turned and swiftly was gone, like the wind that howled and moaned on the high reaches of the mountain. The band of adventurers wasted no time, for something spoke to them that time was now the most precious commodity, and they hurried deeper into the Mountains of Darkness and the World's End to what they hoped would be the saving grace to the land of Stirlyn.

...

The wind howled like shrieking death and it cut through them like knives of ice as they came closer to the Emerald Ruins. Snow built up and the warriors shook from a power that was stronger than them. It was a power that they had no true defense nor could defeat in battle, the cold of the World's End. The Emerald Ruins was carved from the stone that gave it its name. All of the travelers were sure that it would be and none were disappointed.

The temple's beauty seemed out of place in that land of despair and it gave hope to the freezing travelers that slowly stumbled towards it. They came up to the temple's locked door and the key that they had won slid seamlessly into the keyhole. The door flung backward and the heroes slipped in closing the door behind them. None had noticed the dark shadow that had flown over them. Once inside warmth returned to their bones, but the coolness of fear came to them.

Zain cast a spell of light as they closed the door to the cold of the winter storm behind them. The chamber they were in was singular in nature. Its walls and makings were of emerald stone, having four pillars stationed throughout the room to hold up the upper floor. In the center of the room was a spiraling staircase that led to the chamber above.

The three remaining travelers did not hesitate, but took to the stair to ascend above. They came to the chamber. Here Zain's light was no longer needed. A great open archway leading to a small balcony was at the far end of the chamber. It led to the outside and the frosty blowing of World's End. The travelers turned to focus on the rest of the chamber.

Great stone pews lined the chamber on either side of a walkway, which led up to three empty pedestals that rested high above a cracked alter. The three moved forward, going around the altar to stand before the pedestals. "We must place the Emerald Orbs upon the pedestals if we are to redeem this land," Sarik said gruffly. His voice was full of pain and tiredness.

Zain reached into his pack and gave an orb to Sarik and another one to Dagen. He kept the last one for himself. Together, they reached up and returned the Emerald Orbs to their rightful places. There was a great glow that grew from the Emerald Orbs as they were returned. They flashed and their light went out.

"I hope that means the gateway has been closed and Raven Fireheart can now rest," Zain said. The others nodded, feeling that their costly journey was now at an end. Behind them the world darkened by a great shadow, which quickly passed.

"Yes, the gateway has been closed and my plans for Stirlyn disrupted," came a sneer voice from behind the travelers.

They turned as one to face the new threat, but what they saw was not exactly what they expected. A man stood there, near the open balcony. Behind him a beast stood ready. It seemed a demonic black bird, the man's flying steed. It was the shadow that had befallen them.

The thick cowls of his black robe shaded the man himself. He slowly moved forward and pulled back the hood that covered his head. A handsome face was revealed, with slick black hair. His eyes gleamed in what seemed almost a flash, and the smile he gave them appeared to be that of a viper's.

"Count Lanto," Sarik snarled deeply. The dwarf hefted up his axe, and the others readied their weapons.

The cloaked man blinked in surprise, quickly regained his composure, and then laughed regally.

"Yes," he started, "Count Lanto works, but here in Stirlyn I am known as Golmar Raxlyn." The context of his voice then changed, going from a haughty voice used at court to one that seemed to more properly belong to a serpent. "But, I am known by so many names, and only one is my rightful one."

The princely looking man sneered hideously. Then to the travelers' horror his faced changed. It did so only briefly, but change it did. And the lordly handsome face became the color of green bile. It was only after that they noticed the ashen-wood staff that he held in his right hand.

He lowered the staff in their direction. But, after a thoughtful look, brought it back to its upright position.

"Now is not the time," he said mostly to himself. Then looking back at the travelers with his handsome face again in place, he said, "This small victory I grant to you. This tiny disruption will not change anything. Plans within plans are at work, none which any of you could possibly understand!"

Golmar Raxlyn, the man which Sarik Moonwater knew as Count Lanto, a man that had many names on many worlds, turned to leave. The travelers did not pursue him, for they knew in their hearts that this creature before them was beyond their capabilities. Golmar Raxlyn climbed through the open window onto the back of his demon steed. Turning the beast around, the dark wizard looked upon them one last time and laughed. The demon steed's great wings flapped, emitting a foul odor, and then the creature lifted off and flew away, far and fast.

"I believe that was part of something darker than any of us can imagine," Dagen said after a few silent moments.

"Yes," Zain responded. "But, I believe he will not return. Stirlyn is safe."

Sarik nodded, "Yes, for now. But for how long?"

There was no answer, save the desperate howling of the wind.

About the Author

Patrick lives in Brownsburg, Indiana with his wife, Sarah, and is a stay-at-home Dad to their daughter Irene and Bongo the dog. Before this he had an array of time-passing vocations, including high school history teacher, banker, laser engineer, hearing aid technician, car wash supervisor, and library assistant. Pat received his Bachelor's degree in History from IUPUI in Indianapolis. His hobbies include living and breathing Notre Dame Football, Star Wars, reading Tolkien and other fantasy authors, researching ancient astronaut theories, and the Indianapolis 500. He enjoys spending his time outdoors with his family, including grilling, hiking, kayaking, and captaining his father-in-law's pontoon boat.

Coming Soon:

Book Two of the Chronicles of the Ball of Light - Upon the Bridge of Falling Frost

Book Three of the Chronicles of the Ball of Light - Laevindal

Prelude to the Chronicles of the Ball of Light - The Box of Stories and White Summer

Also:

The continuing adventures of the Motley Band and the hero, Koril Icebane

