

### The Chronicles of the Ball of Light Book One: The Story of Faded Stars

### Published by Patrick Bowron

### Distributed by Smashwords

### Copyright 2015 Patrick Bowron

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

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### Cover and interior artwork by Rebekah Crowmer

### Maps and editing by Sarah Bowron

Table of Contents

Maps

Stirlyn

Corthan

Corthan: Sanistair and Kalidor

Corthan: Solizar and Dermon

Corthan: Vinsnarpia and Ariwrath

Image: Eliniza, The Second Cycle of Light

Chronicles

The Creation of Time and Space and the Gods that Dwell Within

The Epic of Thalimos

The Epic of Druwren Starfallen

The Shores of Twilight

The Exiled King of Mistborne Forest

Twilight of the Dark Star

The Lost Realm of Maglor

The Emerald Orbs

Excerpts of the Recovered Writings of the Cosmic Poet

The Three Pendants Part One: The Witch Queen's Dungeon

The Three Pendants Part Two: The Voyages of the Four

The Cosmic Battle of Rantarok

About the Author and Upcoming Books

In the beginning, lights painted the ancient void. Matter from the scattered Ball of Light floated aimlessly throughout the swift currents of the Forever Night Sea. Slowly, over many thousands of years, piece-by-piece, the cosmic puzzle came together. Creation came through the forces of the universe, drawn by the element of the splendor of the Father of All Light, Tevindal, or the Master of Evil, the Dark Lord Devindal. Each great lord had his helpers in this creation of time and space. These helpers were formed by the off shooting radiating energy of those two who held the balance of good and evil in the unformed universe.

The spirit helpers swam towards their creators aiming to do their will and fulfill the destiny the powerful forces had set for them. Each power held sways over nine spirits, giving equal division within the holding of the Ball of Light. With its destruction the spirits were free to form and grow, and with their freedom to magnify their own construct and compel themselves to eternal beings. Men of later days would call them Gods.

Of the Gods of Tevindal

Of the spirits or gods that were sided with Tevindal were Tormar, Klemyni, Vigilla, Mabaslu, Forlen, Achaines, Saera, Calic, and Kord. They each held power and worked together to bring out the will of their lord, Tevindal. Strong in their facets, the spirit Gods combed the cosmos constructing elegant structures for future inhabitants. In their architecture they completed many beautiful things that were filled with great wonder, but were later marred by the evil touch of Devindal and his servants.

Tormar is the God of Wind. He possesses will over any current of air, be the thread planetary or stellar. With his powers he blew fragments of floating matter into the globes that would become the moons, the stars, and the planets that make up the Realms of Confusion. He has governess over the clouds that float throughout the heavens and the storms that stir the seas. After the War of the Gods, he built Cloud Keep high in the Realm of the Floating Wind so that he may guide all of the creations, which he holds power.

Of the Gods that gifted the Realms of Confusion with the highest gifts of beauty and structure is Klemyni, the God of Earth. He rose from the depths of the compounded rock, tall peaks and mountains that donned green, gray, and white raiment, that became beacons of might and wonder to those that let their gaze fall upon such monuments of majesty. He dressed the grounds with green grass and flowers of every splendid color, bringing out the freshness and decorating cologne of nature's vastness. Deep within the unseen earth he placed gems that matched every color of the rainbows that leapt forth from his mountains after a misty morning's gentle rain.

Pride of Klemyni's creations were the tall shoots that sprung from the grassy ground with their green leaves that turned into crisp colors and fell to the replenishing earth. Much did Klemyni love his groves and forests that he tended them and walked beneath their high canopies as a monk robed in brown, the color of wood, or as a golden elk that pranced and leapt high on the tall knolls, caring earnestly for all the woodland kin. He made for himself an open grove surrounded by tall trees with leaves of gold that never fell to decorate the earth below. He named his home the Lost Forest, and it appeared to no living man, save to those of pure heart and dire need.

Vigilla, the Goddess of Protection, was the beacon that stood guard against the black tide during the forming of the worlds. Simplicity is her mantle, holding gifts that were sufficient in the thwarting of Devindal's minions. Her form was that of deceit, appearing fragile and plain but has the power of inner strength. Her arm she held out before her body and for many uncounted years her strength was enough, until at last it faltered and with her arm bent the War of the Gods began. The Keeper of the Gloom protects her tower, and her pinnacle stands hidden in the mists of Gloomy Lake.

The great hallows of the world were filled to the brim with sweeping waves of blue, gray, and green and were watched and tended by Mabaslu, the God of the Waters. His domain reaches from the greatest depths of the oceans to the streams and rivers to the snowflakes that cap the mountain peaks. Every drop of water he has counted and those that lurk within his domains praise him as the only God. He is allied with Vigilla and was the first to join her in battle against the forces of Devindal when her strength faltered. He travels as a sea lion or a blue whale, and his physical body is both powerful and terrifying being decorated in green scales and wielding a trident made of pearl. His residence is the Tower of Undersea Shadows on the Realm of the Crystal Blue.

Forlen is the God of Light. He is clad in bright raiment that only the mighty can behold. His heart is pure, and lifting the veil of shadow is his forever purpose. Forlen fought fiercely during the War of the Gods, striving his power always against Aviar, the God of Darkness. Forlen molded all his creations in his own image, bringing brightness to the depths of the Forever Night Sea. He lit the stars and the sun, and set the moons so that they would shine over the shadow of night. When Aviar destroyed the Sun of Corthan and turned it into the Dark Star, Forlen retaliated by building the Towers of Twilight.

The Tower of Sunrise and the Tower of Sunset are fastened to the Great Wheel that rolls beneath the earth, and with the Wheel's turning, light and life comes to the key world Corthan. Forlen watches over the Wheel, concerned for its constant turning. His followers, cosmic spirits of a race that legends have named as the Falina, guard the Towers of Twilight. Forlen resides in the Chamber of Sacred Light, believed to be the anterior chamber of Tevindal's Himself.

Mightiest of the Gods is Achaines, the God of War. He is the deity of warriors and heroes alike. His tale reaches back to time before time, when his sword, Heaven's Star, swept away the hordes of the foul creatures from the Abyss. He is a Half-Falina, whose actions in life let him to transcend the bounds of mortality into the stretch of divinity. The emerald armor, Forest Wind, and the golden shield, Sun Flame, protect him.

During the War of the Gods, his sapphire sword slew the Gods Celantra, Kaevon, Lansarn, and Talvoi, sending them to the Void until the end of all things. His dwelling is the Tower of the Dead deep within the mists of the Sea of Monsters. There he gathers the mightiest of those slain in war that he may lead them into the Final Battle on the Fields of Rantarok at the end of time.

Saera is the Goddess of Wisdom. Her time is spent with the Holy Texts dictated to her by Tevindal. Flawless is her script and even keener is her mind. She wraps herself in the flowers brought forth by Klemyni and dances in the silver moonlight provided by Forlen. Her voice can be heard in all things beautiful. As the War of the Gods raged, she sat calmly upon the cosmic battlefields and penned its events, both grand and minute. Her domain is the Temple of Runes that sits before the Great Doorway of the Void; there she scribes all events that transpire in the Realms of Confusion.

Last of the Spirits of Tevindal are Kord and Calic, the God and Goddess of Love. In the War of the Gods they took no part. Their hearts are for each other and all things good. In time before time they ruled as royalty over the beings of legend, the Falina. Their love metamorphosed into something greater than themselves and their position. With this grand distraction they descended from the throne and escaped the fate of their people.

Time and space swept by, but their love was undaunted, as it remains and as it will for all times. Their home is the ancient city of Fernoth, built by the Goldenflower in a time long forgotten, that now lies as the unguarded watchtower over the Fields of Rantarok. There they dwell in quiet and solitude, lost in the wrappings of their love, oblivious to all, until called by some desperate heart. Then they sweep forth, coming out from the high ruby walls to mend pain and suffering, and to sow the essence of love.

Of the Gods of Devindal

Of the spirits or gods that were sided with Devindal were Faluvad, Qulelil, Aviar, Lansarn, Talvoi, Celantra, Gorthar, Myr, and Kaevon. Their will follows the path of what is evil and corrupt. In all their works they strive to dismantle the beauty crafted by Tevindal and His forces. They are the essence of destruction and despair, and the erasers of peace and hope. Little do they hold counsel with each other, for they are full of greed and are foul. Only Gorthar serves directly, and all will bend their knee to the Prince of Devindal, Myr, the Demon Lord in unholy flesh.

Faluvad is the God of Destruction. Fierce and terrible he is to behold. His shape is that of a dragon, the great winged serpent that has spawned countless nightmares and terrors. In the War of the Gods, not even the mighty Achaines could stop him. He rained down his fiery breath, consuming the towers of splendor brought forth by the Faithful of Tevindal. The forests of Klemyni he burned and with his breath he formed the deserts of the worlds.

His domain is the Fire Mountain on the Isle of Death protected by the Boiling Sea, which he created. A great gate there is in the mountain's side leading down to a vast chamber in the Abyss. The Bull Witches, wretched creatures of vast power and strength, guard that gate. Within the Halls of the Abyss Faluvad sits and rules. There he is the Keeper of the Dead, rewarding all of evil's servants with an eternal afterlife of pain and torture. Rarely does Faluvad come forth to the Realms of Confusion, but his arrival is greatly feared, for he is second in power behind only Myr, the Demon Lord.

Qulelil is the Goddess of Undoing. Her face is beautiful to behold, but only her reflection shows the true hideousness of her being. She is a wretched witch, and through her magical powers she dissolved much that was beautiful during the War of the Gods, casting down the Pillars that held the cosmos together causing the Realms to become the Realms of Confusion. Her power swept away many of Tevindal's servants' dwellings, keeping them apart from the living beings of the worlds. Thus hindering much of the connection of the Gods and their mortal servants.

She stays now in her keep, Black Mountain Side, surrounded by the Mountains of White Shadow. There she waits deep within her caverns, listening to the dripping water carve away stone and for the call of Myr, that she may appear on the Cosmic Field of Rantarok and help usher in the End. Her only companion is the Soulless Knight, a silent specter who haunts her domain and dispatches any that climb her Unholy Cliffs. Only those with the blackest of hearts can call on Qulelil, and only those can escape the wrath of the Soulless Knight.

The greatest marring of the beauties of Tevindal's servants came when Aviar, the God of Darkness, destroyed the Sun of Corthan, and caused the formation of the Dark Star, reflecting only the blue hue of death. Aviar is darker than the worlds' deepest crevice, and to behold him causes eternal fear and sadness. After his victory over the Sun, Aviar had his slaves build his lair, the Crescent Tower of Fallen Light, in the center of the Dark Star. Aviar sits upon his throne in torment over the creation of the Towers of Twilight, and in his gloom forever plans their destruction. But he cannot overcome the spirits of the Falina, who were once the ancient stars that lit the heavens of a time only in the memories of those that are divine.

Lansarn was the God of Fire. His physical form he took to as a bright flame and was wreathed in a black choking smoke like the burning peak of a volcano. A great adversary during the War of the Gods, he sowed chaos and filled the battlefields with blinding soot and darkness. Greatly did he fear Mabaslu and always steered from his wrath.

At the Great Battle of Kata'Sai, on the fields of the Ancient Rose, Lansarn found himself face-to-face with Mighty Achaines. That day Achaines' eyes shown more brightly than the flames of destruction that Lansarn had woven. Achaines' face was grave and covered in ash, for many Falina he had watched perish. Lansarn came forth thinking to consume Achaines with flame, but Heaven's Star proved too much for the Fire God. The blue blade let loose a terrible whistling as it descended and smote Lansarn, sending him to the Void. With Lansarn's departure from the Realms of Confusion, fire became a neutral element being used for both good and evil.

Weakest in physical power of the Gods, but holding the most cunning was Talvoi, the God of Deceit. Talvoi was the cosmic jokester, coming forth earnestly before the War of the Gods, offering signs of peace between the two factions of the cosmos. Always did he seek out and speak in the ear of Achaines, playing tricks on the War God and feigning friendship. On the eve of the War of the Gods, Talvoi came to Achaines and unraveled many stories erupting him into laughter. With Achaines distracted, Talvoi drew forth Lorath, a poison blade forged by Gorthar, in attempt to assassinate the God of War. The blade bounced heedlessly off the armor Forest Wind, and in his wrath Mighty Achaines swept forth Heaven's Star and slew Talvoi sending him to the Void.

Celantra was the Enchantress of Myr. Her beauty was such that it could be found only in song of later days. She resided in the Sphere of Antion, on the Ridge Cliffs of the Realm of the Echoing Thrall. Her purpose was to snare warriors of Tevindal and corrupt them against their Lord.

Many of the Falina she took with her foulness and brought them forth as Dread Lords on the Fields of the Ancient Rose. She was created in mockery of the Goldenflower, the mother of Achaines, and took her form during the Great Battle of Kata'Sai. Through the carnage she swept with the protection of her Dread Lords. There by the single rose that the field was named for, Celantra and her forces met Mighty Achaines, God of War. There the Dread Lords were defeated with the aiding help of Galdring, the pearl trident of Mabaslu.

In the absence of the God of the Waters to quell the destructive flames of Faluvad, Celantra and Achaines faced each other alone. Celantra's raven hair turned to gold and before the War God stood the lost Breina, the Goldenflower, taken away long ago by the madness inflicted upon her and Paraic, Achaines' Falina and human parents. The Enchantress called out to Achaines to embrace her, and as he went forward to take her possessing kiss he remembered her true nature and drove forth Heaven's Star, taking Celantra to the Void until the end of time. In victory, the Ancient Rose glimmered gold in remembrance of what had been lost.

Responsible for much of the wicked designs of the Realms of Confusion is the Dark Smith, Gorthar. A hulking ogre, with skin the color of green slime and arms as thick as the mountaintops, Gorthar forged Devindal's Will with his massive hammer, Groth. In the belly of Corthan he carved out the Underworld, and filled it with foul lurking things. In the Sea of Monsters he raised the twisted spires of the Isle of the Sea Towers, the throne of Myr, Prince of Devindal.

He is the creator of the races of darkness, the goblins and spiders, and all foul things that can be found in the dark places of the Realms of Confusion. He serves Myr directly, and is forever in his smithy crafting some new creation to serve in Myr's personal army. He is responsible for the Wizard Scourge, and for growing the great sea beast, U'Tun, in the crevices of the Sea of Monsters.

Worst of the spawning of Devindal is Myr, the Demon Lord and Prince of Darkness. Nothing viler has ever lurked through the universe. His story transcends back to the first destruction of the Ball of Light, where he ruled all weaves of darkness and guided them with his cunning. It was in that time that he was hailed by a different mantle, Coirsc, and he was the main enemy of the ancient Falina.

In the War of the Gods, he did not go forth in individual battle, for greatly did he fear Mighty Achaines, for his former demise, had been met by one of the War God's descendants with the aiding blood of Laevindal, the daughter of Tevindal. Myr resides in the Sea Towers, gathering dim clouds of darkness so that he may spread his dark tide over the influence of those mortal beings that he knew would come after the War of the Gods.

The evil tide of darkness also produced a God of War during the sweeping events of the creation of the swirling stars and the realms that lay sprawled across the broken Pillars of the Universe. His name was Kaevon, and he was all together evil. Donning the midnight armor of Varn, hammered by the Dark Smith himself with the Hammer Groth, and wielding the black Blade of Darkness, Torok, Kaevon went to fields of battle during the War of the Gods and laid waste to the armies of Tevindal. Swift was his sword hand and those who opposed him fell to bloody ruin. He led the armies of Devindal into battle and hewed all that was before him, be it soldier or tower.

It was at the Great Battle of Kata'Sai that Kaevon mustered all the foundation of Devindal's strength for battle. The multitudes stretched across the linear paths that lay between the stars that litter the heavens. Monsters and demons sprung from every horrid pit that Devindal had corrupted across the Forever Night Sea, with their hands or tentacles armed with the cruelest of weaponry. Their battle cry was like the Trumpet of Doom that will sound at the Last Battle on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok, overcoming the hope of those who come in defense of the Realms of Confusion.

The Black Tide marched, and Kaevon was at its helm. Standing in defense were the spirits of the past, the Falina, and the glow of all beings that walk in Tevindal's Light. As the two armies collided, there was a crash and a force wave that caused the nearby stars to explode. Many fair and foul things were hewed mercilessly and sent to the confines of the Void. The battle raged for a thousand years of man, until at last Achaines and Kaevon met. The bright light of Heaven's Star and the darkness of Torok struck, stunning the battle to silence. All watched as the two War Gods fought the duel of all duels on the great nebula of Tarkiss.

The blades of the two warriors sung and danced as they fought, matching blow for blow. A hundred years their duel lasted until the work of the Dark Smith failed and Torok broke and shattered into a thousand riven fragments striking out into the Forever Night Sea, becoming the black holes of the universe. Achaines rose Heaven's Star and in mighty triumph he smote down his opponent. The armies of Devindal wailed and in their confusion they fled, falling without notion into the dark places of the worlds. So, the War of the Gods ended, and with it the counting of time began.

From The Book of Saera, Holy Text of The Father of All Light, Tevindal.

Thus Thalimos went across the sea. His sails billowed in the wind and upon the brow of his vessel he espied the Scattered Islands. There he landed, and for a while he rested. He took a woman to wife, and she was Espera, and she bore to him three sons and a daughter. They were Iliand, Valas, Rictar, and Zell. But he did not stay long with them, for the call to travel was in his heart. So he left them behind to never see them again and took to the sea.

He sailed and he came to the place that is home to the Path of Stars. There he carried his ship to the plateau and went forth into the cosmic gateway and left Earmar behind forever. But to follow the path was not his desire. He wished to find things beyond the grasp of knowledge of those who had come before, so he strayed and his ship made its own trajectory across the Forever Night Sea.

For untold years he traversed the darkness, but the passing of time did not affect him. And out here he saw much of the places of legend and myth. He witnessed the Waterfall of Wisdom and the Wells of Darkness and other things not known to exist. He saw too the passing of the cycle of time and was the only mortal to ever witness the Ball of Light in all of its glory.

So for eons he drifted on the empty waves. He looked inward and thought deep thoughts of age old questions that he conquered but lost with the second turning cycle of light. With the eruption of the Ball of Light he forgot all save his name and the use of Salivar, his mighty sword.

He watched as the universe was created once again. He saw the building of worlds and the Pillars that held together the Realms. And then came the War of the Gods, in which he did battle, for it was the greatest of all wars that ever were.

And his blade felled many foul minions that were brought forth by Gorthar, the Dark Smith. Thalimos alone took his ship forth to the shore of the cosmic battle of Kata'Sai. There he came up behind the enemy's ranks and slew many before he was dealt a grievous blow by a Dread Lord and was forced to flee back to the Sea of Darkness.

Thalimos drifted in pain. He fell into a delirious dream and moved close to the veil of death. But his ship landed upon an ancient world that had been untouched by the war between the great powers. He dreamt of many things and was visited by the spirits of the ancient past that called for him to join them. But he ignored the call of death and awoke and met the one who named him the Stellar Mariner.

Goland Iztaria sat at Thalimos' side, but legend and myth would remember him as Goland Icebane. Thalimos soon learned that his savior too was alone, and lived upon an island surrounded by the Cold Sea. Thus, as Goland nursed the ancient man slowly back to health they spent the time telling tales of their voyages. But Thalimos listened closely to that which Goland spoke.

For Goland told of a voyage for an ancient weapon that he could not find, for the paths of darkness were too many for him to overcome alone. So many questions Thalimos asked, and from this he learned much. The Cold Sea held many mysteries and many doors that opened to other realms and worlds to which it flowed. Upon these lands were the lost Dungeon Shards that had been scattered, and they held strong the portal that led to the ancient hidden place of the mighty weapon.

And it was then that Thalimos saw the green glow that was emitted from the back of the cave that housed them. Then did Thalimos leave Goland, who spoke not and Thalimos went down into the spiraling darkness of the cave where the froth of the Cold Sea splashed. There he beheld the closed gate to the land that led to the hidden place he now desired to behold.

Then did Thalimos go back to Goland and he pledged his help to find the Dungeon Shards together. Goland then left, and coming back he revealed Kolfire, his spear of black coral, which he had forged long ago. And for a time Thalimos' boat was abandoned in the cave and the two men manned Goland's ship Icebane and went in search of the portals that held entrance to the lands that hid the Dungeon Shards.

Thus did they cross the Cold Sea and Icebane cut a wake that turned to frost. And they came across a great archway of stone in the middle of the sea. In between the arch glowed, in blue brilliance, a gate to another world to where the Cold Sea flowed and they went forth and came to a place of storm and darkness.

They came to a land that held a dark castle upon a high cliff. Together they stormed it, and through dark paths they went upon foot with their mighty weapons before them. They slew many evil beings and faced down many foes. Then at last in a deep crypt they faced a mighty demon and won the first of the four Dungeon Shards.

Then they took upon the path of the sea once more and they traveled to many lands and had many adventures. They found two more of the Shards, but of the last one they knew not where to find it. So they went back to the cave to where Thalimos and Goland had first met, and for long years they waited for clarity.

Then one night Thalimos went alone out of the cave and sat upon the shores of the Cold Sea. He looked up to the bright night sky and no clouds were visible to hinder his view. It was then with perceived sight that he witnessed something amongst the swirling darkness that did not belong. For long had he wandered the Forever Night Sea and charted its far reaches. And he saw there a glow that belonged not to either star or planet nor comet or stellar stone. And Thalimos called to Goland and the mariner came forth and looked to where his friend and companion pointed.

And Goland beheld this ancient dwelling that seemed like an ancient fortress in the night sky. Thus the Stellar Mariner came forth with his ship for the first time in many years. And he and Goland boarded it and set sail on a mystical wind that blew and carried them upwards. Then they left the world of the Cold Sea and came to that empty void that is the sea in which all creation resides.

They sailed and Thalimos was at his ship's helm that Goland named The Forgotten Soul, for he said that the vessel and its captain had been forgotten by time itself. As they came close to the temple carved by some unknown hand they saw that it was huge and must be the holder of many secrets. And in the Sea of Darkness were swirling nebulas of blue and green, and far away planets that glinted a golden red. Then the ship docked on a shore of nothingness and they left the cosmic sailing vessel and went forth with their mighty weapons drawn into the Citadel of Unlight.

They entered through a great gate and met no resistance. For the citadel itself seemed to be unoccupied, but Thalimos, the traveler of space and time, was afraid. For though they knew it not, they had entered the bastion of the universe that weaved the web of the Dark Threads.

The Dark Threads are the invisible black threads that descend upon all living things. They are the collars around the neck that influences evil in all beings. They are creations of Devindal, but have unknowingly brought balance to the worlds and the Realms of Confusion.

But the Citadel of Unlight was a dark and dreadful place full of evil and sorrow. For it is the heart of evil, and the dwelling of Devindal's soul. Thus Thalimos and Goland entered into the vilest of places that rests on the edge of the Forever Night Sea.

Of what they encountered there, no tales tell. But they emerged from that keep changed, and forever after they found happiness in few places. But they were victorious and they plucked from the shadow the last of the Dungeon Shards and they came back to the cave upon the Cold Sea and went down to the doorway in the freezing waters below.

The Dungeon Shards were assembled and the key to the doorway was made. Thus they passed from that world to the one beyond and rode their ship upon the sea named Palicifo. They came upon a great seawall, and the mighty ocean heaved and exalted its strength to crush them against the rock. But they navigated the small pass that was hidden amongst the rough and they saw then a shore of cold gray sand.

There upon the shore that stretched empty for thousands of miles was a formation of rock. So they came to the shore, and landed and walked before the great formation. Thus they perceived an open doorway that led to the core of the world.

For days they descended, going ever farther into the shadow until they at last came to a lake below the worldly sea. And at the lake's center was a small island and they went forth to this place and saw an ancient chest that they knew held a kingly treasure. But as they reached for it they were thwarted, for rising out of the still eerie waters was the Octosaurus, and it was hungry for fresh flesh.

The beast had no color and its insides could be seen and it saw not with eyes, but felt with its massive tentacles. Then Salivar burned with red fire and Kolfire stabbed with its black death. So the beast was slain and its carcass sank to the foul depths below never to be seen again.

Then the heroes did turn to their reward. And opening the chest they witnessed a treasure that had not been seen since the beginnings of the War of the Gods. It was a blade that glittered like ice and yet burned like the stars. A flowing mist circled about the naked steel like an ever-present storm. Thus they found Frost Storm, the mighty starsword forged by the Falina smith, Alazar Forterri.

As they left the world's core and came to the frosty shores above, they discovered the blade's true power. For Thalimos dipped the blade into the great sea Palicifo and watched in wonder as it turned completely to ice and shattered, and the world below was revealed to him. But, as he looked upon the hidden labyrinths he heard a cry from Goland who exclaimed "Icebane," over and over. For the mariner's ship had been rent to ruin with the destruction of the sea.

But The Forgotten Soul had survived and they sailed the currents of the wind down into the depths below. There for many years they adventured through the Realm of the Undersea, but at last Goland gave his soul up and died. For he had loved the Cold Sea and all its doors, but the finding of the starsword Frost Storm and its use had ended all of that.

Then Thalimos was alone again. In his heart he hated Frost Storm for he blamed it for the loss of his friend. So he hid the starsword deep in the maze of the exposed labyrinth. But of the blade's powers he was infatuated, so he forged a new sword with qualities like that of Frost Storm, but with lesser power.

Thus he forged Glacier, the icesword. Then he left that world and upon The Forgotten Soul he sailed until he came to a world named Corthan. There he hid the sword in the northern wastes, knowing in his heart that it would have a great destiny, and then he left and went in search of the Chamber of Sacred Light in hope of finding Tevindal Himself. If his voyage was successful, no tales tell, and Thalimos, the Stellar Mariner, sailed out of time and story for good.

Preface

There are tales in these worlds drifting in floating chaos, which sometimes outshine others. They come quickly, ever suddenly, and unlooked for. But, they place upon creation a tidal wave of consequences and recourse, which with its coming echoes throughout eternity. The dawn that may be shadowed by the clinging storm does not always dwell in darkness. The stars that shine brightly do not always do so. Sometimes their gleam is faded for a grander purpose.

The Birth of Druwren Silverstar

There was a blinding light, and then the thunder came. Rain hammered the coasts of Kalidor, as twisters swept through the forests tearing them apart. Lightning flickered, sending its volleys of fire down unto the rooftops of towns, as havoc wreaked itself everywhere. The same was happening everywhere in the Realms of Confusion. People ran for cover and people died as the Great Storm made its way across the lands of the worlds.

In Vinsnarpia, the green mountains shook in the storm's fury. Chunks of rock chipped and shattered off the peaks of emerald green, covered by the freshness of living beauty, and fell to the Star Crested Sea below. The waves hurled themselves forth, smacking violently against the base of the mountains. The raging sea about the Mountains of Sea Foam boiled and hissed as they smacked high on the upper reaches of the cliffs, and those in Ilith and Merlaa sat in mortal fear of being washed away.

In the vast lands of Ariwrath, the rivers flooded, taking away the crops that were ready to be harvested. The trees of Mistborne Forest swayed and broke, and their limbs became bright with flame. Citizens of Cresthaven and Mael were swept away by the rising of the Bay of Blue Gems, and others found the hungry jaws of sea beasts that swam the cities' flooded streets. In the north the Spider King sent his legions of goblins and spiders over the bastions on the Mountains of Might to do battle on the Plains of the King.

And it was the same all over the Realms of Confusion. The seas raged, the thunder rolled, the lightning flashed and struck, and evil hordes vomited from their pinnacles and dungeons. But, evil was sweeping mostly over Corthan. For Myr had stirred.

As the dark clouds swept their way across the skies, spewing out their flooding rains and fire, a small band of Hunters sped across the southern plains of Kalidor searching for shelter from the rising waters. Hunters were those of good, their ancestors being those that fought beneath the flowing banners of Tevindal on the battlefields of sky and space.

Hunters kept no faction to kings, whose power stemmed into political entanglements and often fought battles against other hosts of men over trivial matters. Hunters roamed the land, and their sole purpose was to seek out the foul monsters of Devindal and slay them wherever they may be found. Hunters had fought the onslaught since the first turning of time, but constant battle left many of the Faithful slain upon the fields on conflict that they earnestly sought. There was something particular about this host of Hunters that now searched for shelter against the Great Storm. They were the last of their kind.

The Ravenlights they were named, and seven there were left of their band. Fearless and fierce they were, entering the deep darkness of Darkwood Forest and crossing the Goblin Plains under only the light of the pale moon, felling foul game of ghouls and trolls. Their weapons were bright and sharp, as was the light of Tevindal in their eyes. Their hair was streaked black and their legs were swift, their movements were like birds of prey, so they adapted their name, legends of all of the Hunters that had come before.

As the Hunters moved east they were hindered by the slowed movements of their kin, Dana Ravenlight, wife of the leader of the band of Hunters, Drav Ravenlight of the Lightning Spear. Drav helped his wife as the remaining five members formed a protective circle about them, their weapons and their eyes shining out into the raging darkness about them, prepared for any attack of the multitude of vile creatures that lurked about of this evilest of nights.

Dana roared in pain as she ran. Through her leg was a piercing arrow, shot forth from the shadow of the woods to the north. Blood leaked down her leg, combining with the slickness of the rain and sweat that covered her weakening body. Worse was the condition of Dana's belly, swelled and round, looking that it would soon burst asunder spilling out its contents into the flowing water that was rising upon the ground. Dana was pregnant and on this night of nights was going into labor.

In the distance, rising forth from the ground, stood a place of fear and foreboding, even to the bravest such as the Ravenlights, but in times of great strife even places of fear and desolation can be destinations of salvation. The place that the Ravenlights ran for was the rocky red slopes of Fire Eagle Mountain. Legends claimed it to be the meeting place of the servants of Devindal before the cosmic Battle of Sune, when Qulelil cast down the Pillars of the Universe, shattering the connections of all the Realms that floated throughout the reaches of space. The Ravenlights sped faster though, their memories washed away by the rain that was rising to consume them.

They hurried on as more arrows sped forth from the darkness. The approaching sound drowned out by the explosive thunder that rattled the heavens. Drinoc, Spear Master, and eldest of the Ravenlight Hunters, fell with a black arrow buried deep in his chest. His companions cried out, but did not slow their pace. Landra, young and strong, turned and fired an arrow into the deep darkness. The arrow found its mark and slew the goblin that had taken the life of Drinoc. More arrows flickered through the sheets of rain and another of the Ravenlights fell away with the storm. Landra fired three more arrows quickly into the darkness, and the evil tide of black arrows ceased.

The Ravenlights ran, and the stream of flooding waters gave away as their feet struck the hot rocky slopes of Fire Eagle Mountain. A blast of lightning struck Landra and his love Nila, leaving their smoking bodies face down on the base of the mountain. Orazon, the brother of Drav, came over to help carry Dana further up the slope. Dana cried out in pain as they hefted her up, and for a moment all was still and quiet as her pain sung out to the world. Heavy thunder echoed her cry and more lightning shot down in chorus; the song of the Great Storm was relentless and evil.

The two brothers carried Dana for almost a full hour before coming upon a small cleft in the mountain that gave shelter from the storm. The cave was small and shallow, but the rain did not penetrate, nor did the lightning, only the rattling of the rocks shaken loose from the billowing thunder that shook heaven and earth. Drav ripped a torn flap from his shirt and let the pouring rain wet it from outside the cave then placed it on his wife's forehead. While Drav tended to his wife, Orazon knocked an arrow and peered out in the storm, he saw no movement or creatures of ill will.

Dana, at that moment, opened her eyes. Within them were swirling scenes of visions. Drav leapt back in fear as he saw them floating there in her midnight-colored orbs. Orazon turned, startled by the movement. He too saw her eyes and dropped his bow to the rocky ground and it bounced out of the cave and began descending down the mountain's slope. He did not notice his mouth stayed slack and open as he looked.

Drav regained a moment of composure and crawled back to his wife. She said not a word as he looked deep into her eyes and watched visions of many things. He saw a powerful king without a throne with eyes so grim and sad that it was unbearable. Still he could not turn away. Battles unfolded, and there were lands that he had never seen. The crownless king climbed tall peaks of ice and snow and was not bit by the binding cold. There were towers and castles and a dead woman of severe beauty, and then Drav saw something that truly terrified him, the vast expanse of the sea.

Drav fell back and his brother came for him, wrapping one arm about his brother and his free hand about the hilt of his sheathed knife. The swirling mist in Dana's eyes dissipated and she coughed and screamed out in pain of a contraction. Orazon let go of his pulling brother, but did not release the grip on his knife. Dana bellowed forth more of her torment as Drav began to strip off her lower clothes. Blood belched forth as her last remaining stitches of clothes were removed.

Then, it was as the Great Storm of the world sent all its fury onto the lands, created by the Gods before the counting of time, a baby was born on the rocky slopes of Fire Eagle Mountain. Dana smiled a weak smile onto her child. It was a baby boy, and the child stared back at its mother, small and utterly vulnerable, but he did not cry out, but remained quiet. Tears streamed down Drav's face as he looked upon his son, but Orazon remained still, his eyes on Dana, the only one aware that her end was near.

Dana sat there pondering a name for her newborn son. The storm outside calmed as the newborn babe closed and then reopened his eyes. The baby's eyes were silver like the mane of a radiant horse, and outside the cave a small section of the dark clouds parted. All three stopped and turned to the parting in the sky, and in the openness that escaped the storm shown a brilliantly shining silver star, then the clouds rejoined and the storm raged again. Then Dana smiled and she looked to her husband.

Dana then proclaimed in her weakness that there would be no more Ravenlights. With this her husband's eyes raised in anger and surprise. And she knew she would never leave the cave amongst those that walked in the realm of the living. Thus, she named her son, as death crept over her. In her dying breath the baby was named Druwren Silverstar, 'Lu Terrin de en len o' Forlen', The Walking Star of the Gods.

Of Druwren's Coming to Flynn

In the morning, after the child's birth, there was light. The Tower of Sunrise was unhindered in its burning brilliance, setting the storm to flee to other corners of different worlds. Then did Drav and Orazon come forth from the heights of the mountain and laid Dana Ravenlight in a grave of moist and rocky ground.

Words were said, spoken in the high chant of the language of Tevindal, brought forth through the years of the Hunters' service in the fight of the Holy Creator. Afterwards, the baby was brought forth and the decision to travel the northern ways was agreed upon. Then they departed, traveling a world that had been rent asunder. The ravaged plight was in evidence everywhere they turned. Soon, they came to the narrow passes of the eastern side of Darkwood Forest.

But fear crept up in the Hunters' hearts. For they had longed feared the raging sea and the myths, which accompanied it. Hunters, though they served in all their thought Tevindal were fearful of His perilous servant, Mabaslu, The Lord of Waters. It was in his domain that a Hunter could be swept away, taken by mad whim into the depths and brought to places where they could combat no servant of the Enemy. That was a Hunter's greatest fear.

Though Drav and Orazon's hearts quaked at their first glimpse of the sea and all its beautiful and terrible majesty, they were not taken away by it. They were still too far from the grip of its grasp, crawling across heights that lingered high above the crashing surf below. By night they camped, and as day dawned anew they journeyed forth. For three days they held true, clinging to the gap between the evil forest and elongated cliff above the coastline.

The fourth day was born in shadow. Great mists had formed in the waning hours of the Towers of Twilight's rest. And upon the earth and in the drooped boughs of the trees the fog hung, dense and impenetrable. Both Drav and Orazon's voices cried out in fear as the baby Druwren cried, and they believed that Mabaslu had ascended from his realm to take the child as a knight of his own.

But Mabaslu kept peacefully in his own kingdom, far away. The Lord of the Waters was unaware of the Hunters and the child they carried with them. But ill fate belonged to the fog that held its sway blocking out the warmth of day. And in the distance evil minions that dwelled within the foul woods heard the cry.

Without warning the two brothers were set upon. Dark blades flashed out of the unseen. Drav and Orazon, whom had long fought together, side by side, were separated. Hearing his child cry, Drav made for his son and clutched him to his breast, keeping his sword arm free as he struck out at fleeting shapes.

Shrieks and black blood were the responses of sharp flickering steel. Drav was wounded, only the slightest wound, but blood spilled. But the attack did not last long. The goblins and ghouls from the woods had hoped for easier prey, hearing the crying child, but received great loss to their party for their error. With the dance of death ended, Drav looked for his brother.

Drav found his brother. The mist and fog cleared as in some mad respite. With the fading invisibility came the reality of a harsh and cruel world. Orazon had been slain. Drav wept then in the wake of such maddening losses. He, along with his infant son, was all that remained. With tears streaming down his face and with the chorus of the ocean's spray upon gray rocks below, Drav was unaware that he too had already suffered his bane.

Drav grew weaker by the day. The wound he had suffered by the black blade in the mist held with it a seeping poison. The miles grew longer as if they were leagues, as he crept closer to the closest civilization he knew, the fortified city of Flynn

No assailant accosted him as he continued his journey. But time was fading. He knew he stood upon the threshold of death, but refused surrender. His son was his driving force. Drav had become a walking corpse.

In the distance, Flynn rose into view striding a round hilltop. Drav hurried now, moving at a speed, which his dying body fought to restrain. He came closer, the stonewall ringing the city blurred in his vision. To the gate he came, but was denied passage into the city out of fear of plague. Drav recanted his desperate tale as he held out his infant son; he spoke his son's name and lineage.

The guardsman took the baby, having respect for the renowned Hunters. The soldier promised to deliver the child to an orphanage. Drav could do no more. He had brought his son to safety. Druwren Silverstar would not become a Hunter or a mighty hero. But, he would survive. It was good enough for Drav as he stumbled away from the gate, fell, and died.

The Youth of Druwren Silverstar

Of Druwren's younger years the tale is less auspicious. He grew up alone. He was gifted only the necessities of this life. The other children feared him, for he possessed something they did not. There was strength in him and a burning fire. He sought out what knowledge he could, shifting his way into taverns to listen to the tales of soldiers. They taught him the uses of weapons, but as he grew, he began to best those that gave him lessons. These men began to fear the fire within the young man as well, and taught him no longer.

Life was hard for a mid-aged child left to survive on his own devices. War was rampant on the western plains, and the sister cities of Flynn and Havil closed their gates to one another, for suspicion was everywhere. These things left young Druwren with little options. Jobs were closed to him, taken up by men that would not be soldiers. Being of the lowest class and refusing to accept starvation, Druwren turned to the only door left open to him, thievery.

Like all young men who choose paths of seedy proposition, they find on their road those that are alike to themselves. Such was the case of Druwren Silverstar. And in short time he was the captain of a band of thieves within the slums of Flynn. Those that he gathered about him were of the same meddle as he. They were strong and cunning, and were swift like the dispensed arrow.

Druwren's companions were named Elik the Lighthand, Iad Welf, and Alazon Defarith. Elik and Iad were brothers of the same mother, but the sir name of Elik's father was not known. Alazon knew not his mother or father and had been raised by his uncle, who had been a guard of the city until he was slain in a skirmish against a raid of goblins out of Darkwood Forest. Alazon had then become homeless at the age of eleven, and did what was needed to keep his life.

The four boys banded together, accepting Druwren as their leader after a display of strength. They lived and dwelled in alleyways, which were accosted in filth and squalor. Their sorties were juvenile in the beginning, diversions to get shopkeepers inattentive over their wares. In this way they put bread in their bellies. But, as they grew older and came closer to the age of adulthood, bread became less sufficient and their schemes grew grander.

Homes and businesses became their targets. Soon, they had enough coin to move from the alleys to rent a nook of a room for their den. This was their home and their lives. They plotted and listened to rumors of wealth. Their band became known throughout the city and was sought after. But this style of life would not be their destiny. Soon, all would change as they picked up a rumor of a bounty-filled hall deep in the Rolling Hills of Kalidor to the south.

It was said that the keep within the Rolling Hills was a place of great treasure. Piles of gold were whispered of. Treasure chests filled with steel coins. An armory was said to exist as well, with weapons of the finest make, greater than anything the soldiers of Flynn ever dreamed of wielding. Such was the string that tugged at Druwren's band, and they were ensnared by the lust of it all.

One that said he knew the way, but dared not approach himself, sold them a map. It was said that a wizard of ancient age and power guarded the keep. Druwren scoffed at being frightened off by an old fool and took the map, tossing the man a coin.

They left with the dawning of light. The Tower of Sunrise showed itself with streaks of red flame across a clouded sky. The band of thieves carried with them packs of food and cudgels at their sides. Only soldiers of the city and nobility carried swords, no others could afford such instruments. Druwren went to remedy this. The desire to carry a sword was overwhelming to him, and he knew that he came from a line of warriors. A sword was his birthright.

They came into the Rolling Hills. No resistance stayed them. The grass here was green and long and moving towards seed. That night they camped and lit a fire out under the stars.

Druwren's companions fell quickly asleep, but he stayed awake well into the deep hours of the night. There was something he saw up there that he did not have. He became unsettled thinking of all the places and grand adventures one could have. He thought about what little he had been told of his parents and his lineage. His heart paled under those stellar lights as the song of their ancient beauty touched him. He wanted to be more than just a thief. He wanted to be more than what he was. He did not remember when sleep took him, for his thoughts and dreams mingled into the night as one.

Morning came swiftly, cool and gray clouded. The green of the hills seemed dulled, but blew with morning's chilled breath. They did not relight the fire, but rather they ate bread and dried meat as they walked. Looking to the map, Elik proclaimed that they would reach the keep near nightfall if they moved throughout the day. So they continued onward, the whole time watched by unseen eyes.

The Great Wheel under the earth turned the procession of the Towers of Twilight as the hours slipped by. The Tower of Sunrise gave way to the Tower of Sunset in the west. The light dimmed as the mingling shades of color made their appearance as night made its approach. The band of thieves, clearing one last tall hill, witnessed the day's last rays of light illuminating a small keep in the valley below, which sat in its own solidarity.

Day gave away to twilight, which receded into night. The stars and moon began to awake from their slumber and slowly brighten their lights. Druwren motioned for his men to keep down until night had completely set in. Then, when darkness was as deep as it would be, Druwren motioned his band forward and they slowly slipped down the hill.

They moved swiftly as they approached the keep. It was two stories high, a square in shape, and had a tower in each corner extending a story and half higher than the sloped rooftop. No sentries could be seen, and except for flickering firelight emerging from one of the central windows the keep looked lifeless.

When they came down into the valley Druwren stayed his men. He motioned Alazon to go first, and the thief ran silently to the wooden entrance of the keep. Elik went next, followed by Iad. Druwren went last, his eyes ever watching. He witnessed no movement, no indication that they had been seen, but his instincts moved to the defensive.

As Druwren reached his men he could hear them panting softly. It was a far run, over a quarter mile. The men held their cudgels to the ready, but Druwren did not arm himself with his own. His heart told him this night would not end in fighting. Instead, he moved to the wooden doorway. It was tall, spanning nearly twelve feet. He went to work on the lock and quickly sprung it.

Druwren slowly cracked open the door and peered inside. He saw a large chamber with a high ceiling. What he had perceived as a two story keep was in all actuality, a one story keep. His eyes opened widely as he saw what waited for them at the far side of the chamber. The treasure of gold and weapons was true, great heaps of spilled jewels and coins sat upon heavy chests, while racks of gleaming weapons and armor rested near the walls. He turned and smiled at his men.

One by one they slipped into the keep, closing the door silently behind them. They spread out as they moved forward down the main hall, keeping to the walls as not to attract immediate attention if someone should enter. Near the great treasure in the central wall was a grand fireplace with a fire lit, providing light and warmth. They crept ever closer.

They reached the treasure, but none moved to take it. Rather, they stood in awe of its magnificence. Iad, Elik, and Alazon grinned brightly at the stacks of gold and steel coins and the jewels of dripping colors. Druwren did not glance at it. His eyes were upon the naked swords. They had blades of many colors. They were made in such elegance that every other sword he had ever seen looked to be flimsy tin. A suit of armor flickered silver light at him from the burning of the fire. A helm with a plume of silver rested on top of it, they looked to be about his size.

The enchantment took hold. Druwren moved forward, his mind showing him great deeds with a flashing blade held out before him. He came to the vest of armor, and moved to take hold of the helm to sit it upon his own head like a crown. His hand was stayed though, for above it he witnessed a silver sword that did not reflect the light, but radiated it.

As his shaking hands moved to take the blade the grand fire flared in a blazing roar, and then flickered out. Darkness ensued, deeper and blacker than the night outside. Then blue light shone, dim in a cloudy haze of smoke. Druwren took another glance at the blade, but did not draw it or his cudgel. He turned around and awaited what doom that would befall him.

Then a voice boomed in the hall. It was deep and seemingly full of wisdom, but it did not mask boiling anger, rather it held almost a tint of amusement. And the voice spoke to them and told them that it had observed their journey through the Rolling Hills. It told them that it had long awaited them, and that their days of thievery were near the end.

Then did Druwren's companions hold up their weapons to defend themselves from attack, believing that bloodshed was soon to hold its sway, but Druwren cautioned them, and ordered them to stay their hands. They did so reluctantly, lowering their weapons. They looked around frantically for the keeper of the voice, which spelled witchcraft upon them. They saw nothing. So they waited anxiously, while Druwren waited in intrigued anticipation.

After many moments the bluish fog flickered and was gone, leaving regular darkness. The darkness lasted, but for just a moment for the fire resumed itself bringing light back to the great chamber of the keep. But as the eyes of the bandits readjusted they saw that they were no longer alone. Rather now an old man stood looking upon them with interest.

The old man seemed simple enough. He had a long white beard that stretched down to his chest. His clothing was wool, made to be sturdy and warm and appeared to be the man's sleeping garments. He hunched forward slightly, with his right hand pressed down on top of a shapely wooden cane for support. The cane had strange depictions and objects carved into it. Only Druwren noticed it, but it seemed more a regal scepter than a walking stick. The old man looked at Druwren as these thoughts crossed his mind, and smiled knowingly. Druwren blinked in his confusion.

The old man extended the confusing smile he had given Druwren to the others as well. He stood there in silence judging them, weighing them with his eyes. The bandits felt naked under those eyes, as if they could read their very souls. Finally, the old man begrudged the silence and spoke, his voice was deep, but held gentle tones.

"You four have come to steal my treasure?" The old man asked redundantly. "It is too bad then," he continued without an answer. "This treasure cannot be stolen; rather items can only be given, and to only whom they belong to."

"I will tell you, that some of this treasure belongs to you." The old man's eyes shifted to Druwren. "One of you has already been drawn to what has been destined to be yours. Others, well, you must learn to judge items more wisely," he chuckled.

"Coins and jewels are not what any of you need. Oh, they are pretty that is for sure, but they are heavy, burdensome things. You need items of strength to aid you on your journeys."

The old man flicked his hand to wave off the questions that were on the lips of bandits. Instead, he waved them forward to the wall of weapons. He came to a sword, which seemed a solid flame. It was of deep red stone, and appeared to have been polished recently. He motioned Alazon to him.

"This is Rose; she is Falina-forged in an age forgotten by man. Take her; she represents the deed you will perform for the heart of your master."

Alazon looked at the blade in wonder, though he did not understand the words of the old man. He reached forth and took the sword. He held it up, testing the balance. It felt like an extension of his arm. He took the sheath that rested below it as well.

The old man smiled, and moved down the wall to another sword, "this is Amlyne," he said, picking up a sword cut from bright yellow stone. "In darkness it will show the way." He motioned Elik forward, "from now on your name will not be the connotation of a thief."

Elik took the blade. He was in too much awe to ask how the old man knew his name. The old man continued on until he reached a mighty spear. He told Iad to come forward. The spear was the color of charcoal with silver runes of power laced upon it.

"Here is Spelceir. Its aim is true and it will never miss. Take it and cast it with care."

The old man turned his eyes to Druwren. "You have already been drawn to your rightful weapon." The old man waved his hand to the sword, which Druwren stood by. "That is Moonbeam, take her and wield her well."

Druwren reached up and slowly took the weapon. He felt power surge through his hand. Druwren took the sheath and hooked it on his belt.

"All of you must choose armor and helms that fit you as well," the old man announced. He quickly looked back at Druwren Silverstar. "You have your armor before you."

Druwren peered at the armor, which he had already been drawn to. He noticed now on the chest plate a circle outlined in golden trim. He looked to the old man and inquired its meaning. The response he was given was one word, "eternity."

Soon the four bandits were arrayed in shining armor, with their weapons buckled or held out before them. They had no longer the look of ordinary thieves, but rather the appearance of conquering heroes. They looked at each other in wonderment. The old man smiled brightly upon them.

"Now," the old man began gravely, "you will not return to Flynn, for your destiny does not reside there. You will make your way to Koransale, known as the Tower of the Hammer, which resides on the north edge of the Goblin Plains. War is coming! The enemy are marshalling at Goblin's Keep and from the southern edge of Darkwood Forest. You will be needed to push back the tide."

"Go and offer your services to the Tower Guard. You will not be refused. By going to Koransale, rather than Fortress Forneth, you will not be required to sign a letter of enlistment. Rather, you will be paid mercenaries." The old man smiled. "That will help your legend grow."

The four looked on in confusion as the old man ushered them forth from his keep. They marched away like knights under the shining starlight. They reached the hill and ascended it. At its summit, they noticed a flash behind them. They turned and saw that the old man's keep was gone. The map in their pack had crumbled to ash. They had no choice but to continue on, making their way north and then west, to Koransale.

Of the Goblin War

The field before the Tower of the Hammer was thick with bodies. Some littered the ground, others stood in their fierceness. In the sky the ravens swirled. Only death was the constant.

The Goblin War had raged for months. The goblins had belched forth in numbers uncountable from their tower on the southern edge of the desolate strip of land known as the Goblin Plains. The goblins were being aided in the war by ghouls and tree-trolls of Darkwood Forest. A power was stirring there in the forest and begun a union with the vile goblins. Their numbers were almost overwhelming.

But Koransale had its heroes. Sir Silverstar and his companions fought always at the forefront. Their mighty weapons carved a deep gouge into the lines of the enemy, always throwing back their accosting engagements. None of the enemy had yet to touch the walls of the Tower of the Hammer, which was the ring of defense for Fortress Forneth in the north and Havil and Flynn in the east.

This latest sortie of the enemy did not have the strength of that prior. On the field, Moonbeam was a curse upon those deviants of Devindal's make. The sliver of silver detached a head of a tree-troll and sliced down a company of goblins as its wielder roared in his war rage. Beside the radiant blade, Rose, Amlyne, and Spelceir sang in chorus. The lines of the enemy broke and turned south for safety.

Night fell and a war council was held. Druwren and his companions had a seat at the table of Koransale's generals; so much was their renown. And it was that night that they planned for the conclusion of the war. A sweeping plan was put into motion to empty the forces of Koransale and march upon Goblin's Keep to bring forth its demise. So it was agreed upon, and in the morning preparations began for the campaign.

Within the week battalions of men ushered forth to the south for war. They moved in the rhythmic sound of iron cuirass and clanking blades belted to determined men. They moved across the Goblin Plains, it being the wasteland of Kalidor. Many thousands strong were they, and Druwren Silverstar and his companions were at the train's helm.

Banners of Kalidor waved in the wind as they came into sight of the Goblin's Keep with its twisted towers streaming towards the sky. The goblins came out of their nest like expelled vomit to the field and archers lined their battlements. Soon streaks of black quarrels darkened the sky as they made for the ranks of men. Many met death with that first assault.

The bravery of men held. And Silverstar waved Moonbeam at the forefront. Dropping the blade forward, he charged, and the cries of men bellowed forth as their feet rumbled thunder. Goblins shrieked and came forward, and lines of battle met with crashing death.

Steel flashed, heavy blades of men struck the black blades of the smaller goblins. Both red and black blood flowed. The men had the strength of their captain and they witnessed his courage and followed it. They smote the goblin army, carving a deep path to the stronghold's gates. The lines of the enemy trembled and broke, fleeing for both the southernmost reaches of the land and the evil shade of Darkwood Forest.

Then a great battling ram was brought forth as the goblins shot dart and cast heavy stone from their heights. But the men below were unwavering, and though they lost much life they rent the gate to its ruin and forced it aside. Then did men come forth in their madness and set sharp steel to opposition and listened to no solicitations of mercy. Druwren Silverstar climbed stone stairs as he vanquished the keep's highest tower alone. And at its upper most summit he slew the Goblin King and put his head on the tower spire.

The Goblin's Keep was left as a den of ghastly ghosts, empty and set to flame. The stone became like coal and many of the towers crumbled and fell, smashing some of the outer walls. Its structure could not be utterly condemned, and no king of men would use it as a stronghold. It was left, a shell of its former self and the war was deemed won, but it was not the case.

For some weeks after the destruction and the fall of the Goblin's Keep, peace took its place. It did not last. Soon, darkness crept forth from the foreboding woods and stole life in the night. Spiders and tree-trolls came in small numbers engaging those alone, but worst were the ghouls with no flesh. Their breath was the essence of death and they came forth in the shapes of wolves or hounds. Something stirred in Darkwood Forest, and it was a foe far more terrible than the Goblin King.

Sorties were sent against the forest, but the men that entered there came never back. Death and deep darkness ruled in the shade of the trees, and no army was allowed to strike, lest it doom the strength of men in that kingdom of Corthan. Fate was not in the role of the forest, and courage still held. Druwren Silverstar and his hero companions were no longer tied to their commission with Koransale with the Goblin War being ended.

Druwren came forth and announced his intentions. Those generals listened with both awe and horror as he laid forth his planned instruction. He and his companions would go forth to Darkwood Forest and cut the foul root that plotted against the men of the north. They would spend a year in the pursuit or welcome death as failure to their venture.

Of the Cave of the Wolf Wight

Replenished with heavy supplies, Druwren Silverstar and his companions went forth into the darkness of the demon woods. They knew not where the end of their quest lay, but faced the unknown adversity with brows high. Within the woods there was silence, like the deep of a great tomb. Here the trees grew twisted and they smelled of foulness and rot.

For days and weeks they journeyed under the dark canopy. They witnessed creatures of foul make not ever seen by man. These they avoided, and through their own cunning were able to hide from many of the wandering monsters within. The spiders they could not avoid, dropping suddenly on their lines from the heights. They had their legs curled and pincers staged to strike. But, Falina-forged steel bit deep and many they slew. The eyes of the beasts continued to watch the intruding heroes, but they ceased their attempts on their lives.

After many months, Druwren and his men came to the southern reaches of the dark forest. Here the ground seemed to begin sloping ever downward. A valley was hidden here in the heart of the forest, and the men grew suspicious that this is where the forest's Power kept its domain.

Monsters were more constantly seen here, lurking in the shadows. The ghastly wolves could be found here in their dim spectral glow. Some had been twisted into werewolves and the men avoided these completely.

They came at last to the deepest region of Darkwood Forest. Here the trees parted, leaving a ringed clearing. But, light did not make its way here, for the trees of the edge had limbs that stretched forth and entangled with other limbs across the way, making a domed roof. The men ignored this, but paid heed to the gaping opening in the earth at the central point of the clearing. It was an opening to a great cavern.

Thus, Druwren Silverstar led his men into Wight Cavern, and its darkness eclipsed that of the woods about it. They were bathed in blackness, such that they could no longer witness each other. But, Elik Lighthand, remembering the words of the old man, whom had gifted upon them mighty weapons, drew Amlyne. And the sword flared a golden light, like that from the Tower of Sunrise, and the band and their immediate surroundings were illuminated.

Here, with the shining light that echoed out into the darkness, they saw that the cavern was not of natural make. Great wooden beams, which had been harvested from the area of the clearing outside, held up a rounded roof of dirt and rock. They marched on as the ground sloped deeper into the belly of the underworld. The world became chilled and cold and bit like frosted steel. But, there was no time to dwell on such a hindrance, and they continued onward.

The spectral wolves they began to see. The flickering beasts snarled and howled fury at the intruders, but feared the golden light of Elik's sword. The beasts slunk to the edges of darkness, their eerie eyes glowing hatred to the men, but they let them pass.

Sinking further into the bowels of the world they came across metal cages. These they found to be empty, save for one. The light from the sword arced out and revealed a trapped, black-furred wolf, which whimpered in misery and fear. It was now that Druwren understood the creation of the spectral wolves they had witnessed. They had been wolves once, but through cruelty and witchcraft had been altered to their present state. This last wolf before him had not been changed. Yet.

Druwren then announced his intentions to free the caged beast. His companions disagreed, feeling that the creature would most likely attack them, taking them as his tormentors. Druwren pondered this, but looking down he saw the wolf raise its eyes, those eyes pleaded and hoped. Moonbeam slid from its scabbard and crashed down on the cage's lock. The door sprang open and the wolf slunk out.

Druwren's companions edged backwards and readied their weapons, but Druwren stood his ground and sheathed his blade. Holding out his hand, the wolf trotted up to him. With large, wet, black eyes the wolf looked up to Druwren. A pinkish tongue slipped out of its mouth and licked Druwren's hand. The Captain of Heroes laughed, a strange sound in the deep darkness, and patted the wolf on its head.

The captain motioned his men back to him. And looking back at the wolf he saw love there in the beast's eyes. Then he gave to the wolf a name, and called him Marli. And not knowing, Druwren Silverstar met his eternal friend.

But bonds of friendship are secondary when duty presents you in the dominion of hell. Fell deeds still awaited them further down in the tunnel of darkness. So they continued on, going deeper down in Wight's Cavern, not knowing they would be soon upon their adversary.

Thus they came to the den of Garmornosh the Great. The King of Werewolves he was, with the shape of a white ghostly wolf, thrice the size of man. Many were the souls of wolves and hounds he consumed, turning them into his spirit slaves.

Garmornosh howled fury at the intrusion of his dwelling and spoke words of a foul and forgotten tongue. Marli stuck his tail between his legs and hid behind his new master. Swords slid out from sheaths, but none of the mortals gathered there believed that they were mighty enough to be this creature's bane.

So it was quick thinking and the light of Amlyne that saved them all from death in that dark hall. Elik came forth, wielding his sword like a stave of a bright brand. The light of the sword blinded the Wolf Wight, and it whimpered pain and cringed away from them. Then, Druwren turned to Alazon and urged his friend to destroy the beams that held up the ceiling.

Rose flared to life and was consumed with red fire. Alazon swung the blade in hot red arcs. The fiery sword cut through the pillars of twisted tree trunks, severing them and causing the dirt and stone above to loosen and fall. The Wolf Wight behind them howled its fury, but as it tried to approach, Elik held up Amlyne, and Garmornosh was forced to cringe into the darkness.

And they made their way out of that dreadful place with the aid of fire and light. The pillars were split and the tunnel was stuffed with its own makings. So, Garmornosh, the Power of Darkwood Forest was imprisoned in his own demonic den. And he would stay so until the Trumpet of Doom was sounded and the world of Corthan was broken as the call to the Cosmic Battle of Rantarok was made.

To Face the Wrath of Mabaslu

Druwren Silverstar and his Hero Companions, as they became to be known, returned to Koransale to be the guests of honor of a great celebration. The evil of Darkwood Forest slept, and raids from its borders came no more. Then, for a time there was peace, and the Hero Companions grew restless and the palms of their hands itched to wield their mighty weapons.

But, evil never slumbers for long. And from across the Sapphire Sea came the calling for aid. Goblins and spiders were passing over the heights of the Mountains of Might down into the Plains of the King. The King of Anwyn pleaded that a strike force land and do battle on the Goblin Downs to stem the flowing tide of the creations of Gorthar.

Volunteers were called for, being a mission to take place on foreign soil. Many war veterans of the Goblin War, and those seeking adventure that had been too young to fight previously, signed up. The Hero Companions were among the very first to promise their assistance.

But, there was fear in this mission to the Hero Companions' captain. For he was of the line of the Hunters, and it was buried deep within his bloodline to fear the recourses of the sea and the wrath of its Master. He would not, though, abandon his pride and his courage. It was time for him to move on, the wars of Kalidor had ceased, and the adventure lust that tugged at his heart pulled strongly.

It came to pass that a fleet was assembled. It was not grand in numbers, but those men that took to the vessels were strong and mighty, and their swords sharp. They would cross the Sapphire Sea and take the fight to the goblins and spiders in their land, and through their force, give the Plains of the King the chance to regroup and muster their full strength.

They set sail on the dawn of a calm morning, the Tower of Sunrise not yet awake. Blue jewels winked quietly on their cool, dark canvas. The waves of the Sapphire Sea were gentle in their lapping. Druwren looked wide-eyed onward to the hazed horizon. Marli came to him and nudged his head under his arm, giving the gift of comfort. The Hero Companions chuckled softly, mostly to drive away their own fear, but not so loudly that their captain heard.

They were the lead ship of the invasion force, carrying around twenty men, beside themselves. They sprinted off across the water, fifty vessels strong. Many of the men upon the ships would not see the eastern continent again, that much they all knew. But, these thoughts they put away, and sailed out into the west.

It took much getting used to, being on a ship in the open sea. As the time slipped by, the sickness of the movements and the constant fear of Mabaslu's dire wrath began to subside. But, confidence can be a fickle matter. Believing one is past all obstacles has a way of drawing the Eyes of Fate upon you.

It came to pass, as the heights of the Mountains of Might showed their girth on the edges of a distant horizon a storm crept up out of the deep reaches of the sea. Torrents of rain were unleashed and the waves of water dipped and swelled to great heights, making great swallows in the sea, which were soon filled, taking both ships and men. And upon the thunder there seemed to be a voice that laughed its ironic machinations.

Then the fleet was spread out, and the Hero Companions found themselves alone at the forefront. There before them a great whirlpool showed itself. Its swirling currents formed a funnel that sank to the deepest reaches of that realm beneath the flowing waves. Druwren cursed Mabaslu aloud, crying out the God's treachery to a descendant of the Hunters.

The men of the ship tried desperately to lower the sail and row themselves away from the hungry tyrant before them. Alas, their efforts were in vain. The mast of the ship was splintered and killed several of the seamen. Oars were lost to the hungry waters and the ship found its way into the spiraling current.

It went around each level of the pathway down into the sucking oblivion. Men clung to the ship and many were thrown overboard and drowned. Druwren grasped Marli and held to his seat. Elik, Alazon, and Iad mustered around the stem of the broken mast and clung to it and each other. The other sailors held on to what they could.

The roar of the water intensified as they moved closer to the great gullet. Nothing could be heard over the raging drain. Druwren looked up to see more sailors thrown from the ship. They hit the sides of the funnel and were ripped to pieces. Druwren hurled into the storm one last curse to Mabaslu. His voice was swallowed as they went down into the deep and everything then turned to black.

Of the Space Between Moments of Time

Darkness. Its essence can last seeming eternities. Its veil can be extinguished in a blinking moment. Worlds and reality are flickering phenomenon. They are made up from fabrics from that we have no comprehension.

On the Shores of the Golden Wood

Light broke the dark. Distorted shapes blinked in aching pain. Colors moving in the soft wind. A bedding of earth provided comfort.

Druwren strove for conscious thought. His existence registered in his mind confirming to him that he still lived. He blinked, bringing the world further into focus. Marli lay upon his chest, breathing, and watching him. Turning his head he saw planks from their ship scattered about. He saw his friends, Elik, Iad, and Alazon. They all seemed to be stirring; none of the other sailors were about.

Close to where he lay was a small inlet of a lagoon separated from the ocean beyond. The waters of the lagoon were calm and turquoise in color. He noticed now the trees overhead, they held beauty like none he had ever seen, being always near the haunted place of Darkwood Forest. The air was warm; giving away that it was still in the summer months. But the leaves were of many colors, like the coming of autumn.

Laying on his back and not ready yet to attempt standing, Druwren looked upon the trees in his wonderment. His mind tugged at him, trying to figure out what all the leaves and the trees had in common. The leaves were of reds, greens, yellows, and oranges. But, he soon noticed all seemed rimmed and tinged with gold. The trees themselves seemed golden in their make as well.

A feeling came over Druwren. He felt as if he were not alone here under the umbrella of branches. He sat up despite the pain that throbbed in his head and looked further around. At the edge of the copse of trees, which lined the lagoon he saw a set of eyes peering through the foliage. His eyes met with those of the creature and the beast turned calmly and walked away into the deeps of the woods. As it turned away, Druwren caught a glimpse of his body, and to him it seemed an elk with golden fur.

Within the hour, Druwren and his Hero Companions had arisen from their ordeal. The band was all weary and suffered pain, but none had seemed to befall any major injury. Marli appeared to have suffered no hurt at all. There was no sign from any of the other men from their ship.

They poked through the wreckage, collecting any item they deemed recoverable. None had lost any of their weapons, and some food and water was found. They packed everything, but did not leave that day. They did not know where they were and they needed rest. They used planks of their ship to start a fire in the evening and roasted a few fish they caught from the lagoon.

In the morning, they rose well after the Tower of Sunrise had shown its face. And leaving that place, they did not know if they would return. Then they left and went into the forest.

They were surrounded on all sides by stunning beauty. Tall trees went ever upwards with their leaves that blew in the world's calm breath. Golden rays from Towers of Twilight came down in beams from the narrow holes in the high canopy. If Darkwood Forest had been a den of horrid evil, then this realm was its opposite in every sense.

They soon discovered a path and took to it no matter how much it curved and swayed in different directions. The path would lead somewhere, they reasoned, and maybe there they could find answers on where they were. As they traveled, they periodically witnessed white furred elks in the distance watching them. Alazon notched an arrow to fell one of the beasts. But his companions stayed him. Lowering his bow and looking upon the white elk he had prepared to shoot he understood that his friends were right, but in what way he did not completely understand.

As night set in they came to a larger expanse in the path. The path expanded, while the trees about it narrowed tightly around making a natural shelter. Here they stayed and kept no guard, for it did not feel like one was needed. So they trusted the woods and slept peacefully until they woke at dawn.

As the day broke and they arose from their slumber, they found that they were not alone. In the woods around them a great many of the white elks had gathered. The elks watched the newcomers with interest, but displayed no actions that hinted on hostility. But the white elks were not the only visitor that had gathered about the Hero Companions' camp.

Just outside the natural shelter they had used for the night and further down the path, sat a man on a large gray stone. He was robed in brown and had the cowl pulled about his face. The Hero Companions stood in alarm, but did not draw steel. There was something particular about this man, and though they could not see his face he did not feel evil.

The man rose, lifting himself off the large stone, and hefted up a long wooden staff that had lain on the other side of the rock. He walked slowly towards them. There seemed to be a smile on his partially concealed face.

"Welcome," he said, coming into the area of the shelter. "Be not wary my friends. This is a kingdom of peace. No trouble shall befall you within these borders."

Being closest to the robed monk, Iad asked him where they were, after briefly describing their ordeal.

"You are in my kingdom," the monk replied, "Far are you from the transaction of your torment in the Sapphire Sea. You stand now in the Lost Forest, in the southern part of the land of Solizar. Come! Walk with me, and I will take you to my home for resting."

Then they followed. They asked no questions; for they were assured the time for talking was not yet at hand. They journeyed with the man deeper down the path. It was not lost on the Hero Companions that the white elks seemed to follow them in their travel.

They walked most of the day, stopping periodically for short amounts of time to rest. The brown robed monk did not speak during these intervals, and the presence of silence did not seem strange. Instead, he focused on the sounds that emitted from the woods. The Hero Companions followed his lead and they found that their hearts were lifted and put to peace with the elegance of life that was all about them.

As evening twilight shown its dying red fire, which turned to shades of purple in the deeps of the forest, they came to where the monk proclaimed was his home. They came to the end of the path and here the trees changed. The trees with the leaves of many colors were no more. In their place stood trees with golden trunks and leaves of that same pure visage.

The purple twilight dissipated and the thick woods gave way to a clearing. As they stepped out of the trees and into the clearing, it seemed that they entered into a realm of which time had forgotten. Dim blue light bathed golden beauty as thousands of stars lined the exposed heavens. The grass was soft and cut short, a golden green tinged carpet. The monk removed his boots and asked the others to do so as well.

They walked across the grass that was refreshing with its wet dew. Moving, they made way for a rounded mound at the center of the field. At the top of the mound were tall stones adorned with growing ivy. The stones had other stones lying across their tops, making a circular procession of apparent doorways. They climbed the mound and entered one of the doorways, which had old runes carved on the top stone.

They gasped as they entered and Marli howled in his excitement. The world had changed again. Here the sky had changed up above. No longer were the pale blue lights of the stars of the ancient Falina. In their places were green nebulas and spiraling white and red galaxies. It seemed the entire universe was being shown to them.

Too engrossed with the turning tide of the cosmos were they to notice the brown-robed monk was no longer with them. Instead, standing and watching them on the grass was a golden elk. Its eyes were deep black wells of wisdom. It studied them and weighed them, measuring their overall importance.

It was Marli that noticed the wild creature first, giving a yelp, and then strangely lowering his head in submission. The others too gasped their surprise as they noticed the absence of their host and the majestic creature before them. Druwren alone did not make a sound, for he recognized the creature as the one that had watched him by the shore of the lagoon.

"Do not be afraid my friends," said the golden elk. Its voice was the same as the brown-robed monk. "Though I enjoy walking as the monk, this is my true form. Those white elks you had witnessed before are my companions and servants. This is my realm."

Druwren Silverstar moved to the forefront, being the captain of the band, and asked the golden elk to reveal his name and purpose.

"I am Klemyni," he responded, "I am the God of Earth and its Domain. Mighty hands have brought you here, for dire motions are being put into play, of that you are central to the plot. I know you do not fully understand, and the entire content I am not allowed to gift upon you. But, it is vital you follow the course deemed to you, no matter the consequences."

Then counsel was held between the four members of the band. Many questions they formulated and asked to their host. Some of these he answered others he did not. But, what they learned was they had been stopped purposefully of their conquest of the Goblin Downs, for they were needed for purposes at Aququaria. Those purposes were not revealed in full detail.

"Great evil has stirred in that paradise," Klemyni said, "Mabaslu, Lord of the Waters, has asked that I give you rest and help you on your way there. He also wanted me to tell Druwren Silverstar that he does not thwart Hunters in their actions. Rather, he aids them willingly, but through purposes of his own has deemed it necessary that they did not become seafarers. For there is yet a hidden citadel he wished them not yet to discover."

"Rest now," Klemyni continued, "All of you will need your strength for the journey to come. For Druwren Silverstar, I have a gift," Klemyni said.

He lowered his head indicating an item that rested at his feet. None of the Hero Companions had perceived the item previously. It seemed to them that it had manifested there at the time of their host's choosing. Druwren moved and picked up the item, which was round and fit in the palm of his hand. Looking upon it he noticed it was an ancient compass, wooden, but trimmed in blue gems.

"A gift from Lord Mabaslu," Klemyni said, "In payment for the debt that he owes all the lines of Hunters that have come before. Use it well. For it will show you the way even when you do not know where you should go."

Druwren bowed to his host.

"Now, my friends, my servants have prepared for you a banquet outside and pallets to sleep upon under the glowing sky. Feast and rest peacefully. In the morning you must travel on. I will not be there to see you off. We will not meet again my friends."

With that said Klemyni, God of Earth, walked out one of the back stone doorways and faded away. The Hero Companions stood there in their stunned silence for many moments. Each of them took in one last sight of the swirling cosmos above and then left out the way they had entered. Upon the grass the white elks waited.

That night they ate vegetables and fruits of every kind and enjoyed a crisp clear liquid that soothed their souls. The stars twinkled overhead as they laughed with their hosts. They stayed up long into the night, before they were urged to bed. They went willingly then, and threw themselves down in a deep, peaceful slumber. They arose at dawn, feeling they had slept for days.

There was no sign of their hosts and the remnants of the banquet had been cleared away. Woven baskets they found though, filled with bread and wild berries. They left the clearing of the Golden Wood and entered again the domain of the Lost Woods. Taking out his gift from the night prior, Druwren Silverstar led his friends in the direction the compass indicated.

Of the Horror at the Root of Aququaria

The direction of the Compass of Mabaslu led them back across the path that had brought them forth to the Golden Wood. They came back to the lagoon, from which they had started, but in their absence a prize had been stationed there for them. In the harbor of the lagoon of turquoise and tranquil waters rested a sea vessel in the shape of a bird in flight.

The vessel was made of the finest wood, cut from trees never before seen on the face of Corthan. Ivory was its color, like the cloud above. A gift from the Gods, but not the one they believed it from. For the ship came not from Mabaslu, but from Tormar, the ruler of Cloud Keep, which rested in the Realm of the Floating Wind.

The Hero Companions boarded their vessel not expecting the following course of action. And manning the oars and making sweeping strokes, the vessel bounded forth from the water and ascended into the sky. So did the passengers cry out in their dismay as the wind struck boldly upon their faces. But, their tone changed as they laughed in their merriment, and looking below they witnessed, as the world grew small and curved.

It did not take them long to figure out the workings of their ship. And then Druwren stood up as he held onto the mast under the full sail and he roared aloud. His heart pounded from within his breast and he brought forth his compass. Looking upon the instrument he directed his men's path. So it was that they darted over land and sea, and came soon downward to dock at the Isle of Aququaria.

Their air-ship descended, and as it lowered it leveled out and smoothly came back into contact with the blue sea. For a moment the Hero Companions believed that they had been mistaken in their destination. They saw the isle in the short distance resting alone amongst the tumult of the waves, but it was small in its stature and held but one temple at its center.

The temple was made of black coral taken from the sea's depths and fashioned by great craftsmen. Its structure was that of mostly columns rising high and bearing a sloped roof. No movement was witnessed from within or without the temple, and the men of the ship began to fear the worst.

They pulled up, with the aid of the crashing surf, upon a white sandy shore. They disembarked and pulled the air-ship further up the slope until they came to a place they deemed no rising tide would reach. Satisfied, they drew their weapons and crept slowly to the desolate temple.

They came under the shadow of the temple's roof and columns. Still they witnessed neither movement nor sound of life. Moving slowly, they darted pillar-to-pillar in formation of attack. No evil was perceived. Upon reaching the temple's center they saw a staircase that lowered into the earth below. Looking to each other the band nodded in agreement, and they took to the stair and made their way down into the unknown reaches.

The stair climbed down to a depth they believed to be unfathomable. What they witnessed at the stair's end was beyond the imagination or belief of the Hero Companions. They had come with the expectation of swarming minions in a hive of darkness. But, the scene that unfolded before them was anything but a world carved forth by Groth, the Dark Hammer of Gorthar.

They stood upon a high cliff of polished stone. The precipice ringed downwards, separating levels in this dominion under the sea. Palaces, temples, and homes were etched out of stonewalls leaving the hallowed-out center empty in the great city. Four great waterfalls, one from each rounded direction, poured their contents into a great circular pool at the cavern's bottom.

Squidaandan and Dolpleanan peoples live here in peace with their angelic sea creature-like features. This is their ancient home. In the ensuing centuries they would venture forth in migration. And by scanning the seas they would take hold of the old Vinsnarpian kingdoms, which had once been ruled by men.

But, those tales have of not yet been written in the histories of Saera, the Goddess of Wisdom. Coming back to the present position of the turning worlds and swirling cosmos, one is presented with the prudent picture of a peaceful utopia. But as it is commonly said among men, looks can be deceiving. And here under the veil of beauty, deceit and evil were prevalent in their audacity.

Coming forth into this kingdom arrayed and prepared for battle, the heroes were stunned. Those citizens of the hallowed hall beneath the sea bequeathed them passage, moving away from the foreigners out of unconstrained fear. Then the eyes of many were upon them, wide and full of despair. Then the Guard, being made up of both races, came forth with many weapons brandished. So, blood came close to spilling.

But the Captain of the Guard called for his men to step down. Looking upon the strangers, he noticed they were not part of an invasion force. He sheathed his blade and came forth with his hand extended to offer peace. Then, the conflict was resolved and many lives spared.

The Captain of the Guard of Aququaria then brought the Hero Companions before the king and queen of the realm. And they were King Oluolian of the Dolpleanan race and Queen Tetsa of the Squidaandan race. Thus was the union of the two peoples. There in their great hall they listened to the Hero Companions' journeys and the forces that brought them forth to Aququaria.

Silence then reigned in the hall. The king and queen and their consorts wore masks of sadness. Druwren Silverstar was compelled by this display of emotion and moving forth promised his aid to thwart any evil endeavor. The queen lifted her head and smiled at the hero that had come into their midst. The king mustered his strength and his regal bearings.

King Oluolian then told the tale of their woe. He described the coming of the terrible sea serpent, U'Tun. U'Tun had come and wrapped himself to the Great Pillar, which held up the kingdom of Aququaria from below. And doing so he placed himself near the Great Basin Drain, from which the flowing waterfalls and the pool below let out its excess. Now the beast was in position to tear the realm off its foundations or to send its venomous saliva up into the tranquil waters, fouling it to a deathly poison.

But, U'Tun's treachery was much deeper than those terrible recesses. To thwart such courses of action, the monarchy of the Realm of Aququaria was forced to provide tribute. The price was a charge of steep proportions. So, it was declared by the realm's captor that on each week's holy day a maiden be brought forth so that she could be consumed. Tears filled the king and queen's eyes, and they told the Hero Companions that their daughter had been demanded next.

Then silence filled the hall. Druwren stood in quiet thought as Alazon came forth and asked what courses of action had been instituted to remove the sea serpent. And the king told him that strength of arms could not prevail. To reach U'Tun, he explained, one must travel down a narrow hall to a chamber that can house only one man at a time. Alazon looked over to his captain, as Druwren raised his head from thought.

Then Druwren Silverstar, Captain of the Hero Companions came forth and drew his mighty sword, Moonbeam. Coming before the king and queen of the realm he laid the naked blade before their feet. He swore an allegiance to them and issued forth a promise. In his doing so, he demanded to be brought forth to the sea serpent of Gorthar, so that he could do battle in the sake of the maidens of Aququaria.

That night a banquet was held in the honor of the guests that had come to them by the guidance of the Gods. Much wine flowed and calls came forth from the long prepared table about the valor of the guests. Druwren's men boasted loudly of their past deeds and sang songs and drank heavily with their hosts. But, Druwren was quiet and did not drink, rather his eyes were on the Princess of Aququaria, a young maiden of only sixteen winters, and the deed before him weighed heavily upon him.

In the morning, the Captain of the Guard came to bring Druwren forth from his chambers. Druwren was brought before the king and queen and the jollity displayed the night before had slipped into a somber sadness. It was the day that was to be their daughter's sacrifice, and if Druwren failed all of Aququaria would suffer in his defeat.

Druwren then revealed his plan of action. He would wear a heavy cloak about him as he descended into the narrow depths onto the platform for where U'Tun would await. Then, as U'Tun prepared to devour what it believed to be the princess, Druwren would reveal himself and his wrath.

The idea was accepted by all of the court that had been assembled and the princess's cloak was brought to Druwren Silverstar and he was wrapped within it. The royal guards then brought him down into the lower reaches of the city to the entrance of the Great Basin Drain. It was there Druwren entered a narrow passage and traveled down to face the horrid beast alone.

Druwren marched down slippery stone stairs as he went deeper into the space below the sea. A foul stench grew as he lowered level by level. It was the smell of death and decay. Druwren loosened Moonbeam in its scabbard, and prepared himself for the task ahead.

The stairs then leveled out into a hallway that stretched nearly the length of ten men. Along the walls lamps glowed, as they were bowls of eels that emitted light. He slowed his pace even more, looking as far ahead as he could. He came to a stone door and he pushed it open, the foul stench was unbearable.

Passing through the door he came onto a small ledge. Bones and rotted flesh littered the balcony. Below him Druwren saw U'Tun. The beast was wrapped like a coil around the pillar that held up the enclave above. Most of its brown slippery-scaled body was emerged in water. The water here appeared foul, with a layer of green ooze floating on the surface.

The sea serpent awoke from its slumber as it noticed the being on its feeding balcony. Its head was as large as a ship, and it had pale eyes like slivered moons, and jutting fangs etched with decay. It hissed in anticipation of the pleasure to come and slowly began to uncoil itself in dramatic show.

Druwren stood his ground. He assumed the creature would not strike to kill him quickly; rather it would work to draw a frenzy of fear from its victim. Slowly the disentangled head floated across the scum-coated water below and made its ascension to the lofty perch of its feed. Its head came up, level and directly before the balcony. Its forked tongue hissed once and then shot down over Druwren's shoulder to grasp and close the door behind.

It was in this moment that Druwren forsook his deception. Flinging away his cloak, the hiss of U'Tun was echoed by the hiss of released sharp steel. And while the sea serpent's tongue shut off the route of escape from behind, Moonbeam showed its brilliance in a sweeping flash that severed the tongue from its host.

In surprise and pain, U'Tun raised its head and screeched fury. Loose stone fell from the high ceiling, many in which struck U'Tun causing it much injury. Then the monster came back to face its tormentor. Its head came forth in multiple successions in desperate desire to grind its opponent with its fangs. Druwren stood his ground and dodged each attack, but for each of U'Tun's failed strikes Druwren rewarded the monster with a stinging slash from Moonbeam.

Finally, U'Tun saw its fruitless efforts against the mighty man that stood against it. Screeching again in pained fury, it uncoiled itself fully from the pillar. Then it dove into the deep, and by some hole known only to it left the chamber, leaving Aququaria in peace.

Long hours Druwren Silverstar waited in the domain of his victory. For the hero could not leave by any of his own devices, as was the doorway behind him closed by strength greater than his. But, at last the door was battered open by the King's Guard and the hero was brought forth in triumph and grand celebration.

Much was the thanks gifted upon Druwren and his band of men. Chests of jewels plucked from the sea were given to them as reward. Many were the pearls and rings made from black coral and adorned with colorful gems that they received. The Hero Companions now had a treasure trove to rival any king or lordly regent. And so it was that they left a kingdom cleansed of its bereavements and moved out to the unknown to continue their own establishment.

Of the Tales of the Time in Vinsnarpia

Druwren Silverstar Becomes King

Leaving Aququaria behind, the men took to their air-ship and set sail in heavenly currents. They traveled north, as was the indication of the Compass of Mabaslu. They sailed over the infested waters of the Sea of Monsters until they passed that domain and before them was revealed a land of beauty and majesty.

There above the crest of the green and lush land was a crown of blowing mist. Tall mountains lined the southern borders. They were great beacons of might, emerald in nature, and ridged with paths that journey upward to jagged summits. Thus, the travelers first glimpsed the Mountains of Sea Foam of the Isle of Vinsnarpia.

Seagulls now joined them in flight, taking up the tail of their train. They broke formation, swirling about the air-ship. The men laughed in heartfelt pleasure and Marli howled his approval. Druwren looked to the compass for guidance. The magical device indicated they were to land in the sea before the grand mountains, so the advising will of the Gods was followed, though the purpose was lost to them all.

So they descended before the rising green monoliths. They landed in royal blue waters, but the surging sea was powerful and heaved them with its might. The ship moved with building speed upon a white-capped wave. There at the bottom of the Mountains of Sea-Foam were smoothed bases, which gave the towering giants their name. The waves hurled themselves in endless assault leaving only traces of ivory foam with sizzling sound.

They were able to lift the craft into the air before they were dashed against the mountains' base, but they did not make it through without infliction. For as they rose into the air, a mighty wave crashed down on the vessel's right wing. Then the ship dipped, and righting its course the other wing clipped rising stone. They swirled out of control and could not regain mastery of the vessel. So they descended into the tropical woods just slightly above the baseline of the flowing sea.

None were injured, but their ship would fly no more. So there they were marooned alone in the mountains. They journeyed forth from their crash site, and they found on the cliff a cave that was large enough for a dwelling. So, they took their supplies and treasure and made that place their home within the mountains.

Once they were all settled, the band looked to their leader for instruction. But Druwren, looking to the Compass of Mabaslu, saw that it gave no indication of their next destination. And looking closely at the instrument they saw that it had not suffered damage from the fall of the broken air-ship. So they were resigned to stay and wait until further guidance was gifted upon them from their cosmic benefactors.

Months passed by as they settled into their new life. The men sustained themselves through the collection of fruits and the hunting of wild game. Water was collected from gentle streams, as all seemed content with life upon the mountainside.

Druwren alone was restless. He found himself wandering the wild paths with Marli at his side. Upon a high ridge he spent most of his days. There he sat upon a volcanic rock of obsidian glass. He pondered great thoughts up there alone, save Marli his companion and the drifting smoke from his pipe. Rains and mist did not hinder him; rather he welcomed their refreshing touch under a warm sky.

Such were the days of Druwren's life, but as things are in the world, change can come at any moment. Change did come and in a way Druwren never perceived. For as the mighty warrior sat alone upon his rock deep in thought he faced a circumstance that he had no knowledge on how to combat. For out of the shade of trees behind him came a figure, as it came forth from the shade, Druwren turned and half drew his blade before he was struck first.

And the hilt of Moonbeam was forgotten in the grasp of his sword-hand. Druwren's eyes glazed and his skin prickled. His heart beat rapidly out of fear. Thus, was the Captain of the Hero Companions seemingly paralyzed by a spell of unknown origin.

The moment had come when Druwren Silverstar looked first upon the treasure he would prize most out of all the worlds. A treasure he would be doomed countless centuries in his quest to retrieve. The moment had finally come, when Druwren Silverstar first looked upon Princess Ilayan of Merlaa.

Druwren stared in his state of paralysis as she came forth from the wood like mist in a dream. In that moment he knew that he loved her. She had hair like dark red flame and a gown of gold trimmed in silver. Her eyes were blue and cast a light like the ancient stars of the Falina. Her skin was fair and as smooth as the first fallen snow.

She too halted as she witnessed the man before her. He was wild, and had not trimmed hair or beard, which was unlike the men of her city. He had the stature of a great warrior, and at his feet a wolf laid lazily.

Hours passed on as the mingling lights of the Towers of Twilight converged and then sank into the sea. As the stars overhead set in and gave off their dim glow, the spell finally broke. Princess Ilayan turned, and like a fawn leaped into the trees of the woods upon the mountainside. Druwren Silverstar leapt forward and after her. His sword fell from his grasp and slipped from its sheath onto the path. Marli stayed guard over his master's property.

So, the chase went on and the forest echoed with laughter. The princess ran not out of fear, but did so to lead the one that followed her. Long did they run and tirelessly so. Druwren was the swifter runner, but the princess knew the mountains better than the hound behind her.

When he would near her and reach out to grasp her she would switch her trajectory and bound off in a new direction. Doing so she would laugh loudly into the night as her red hair streamed behind her like a banner. So, the chase went this way day and night until they were in the country beyond the mountains. It was here that Druwren caught Ilayan, and knowing not that she was a princess, asked her hand in marriage, which she accepted. And unbeknownst to Druwren in his chase to gain a wife he gained also a crown.

Of the Golden Age of Merlaa

Marli led the Hero Companions to Druwren by following the scent of his master. The band did not understand what could make their master cast down his sword. But, Marli did not show anguish, so they trusted that their captain was well.

They crossed over the mountains and came down into a flat green country. Their pace was slow, for they had to trust the wolf and Marli led them many directions, for Druwren's path had not been a straight one. And coming down into the flat of Vinsnarpia the path steadied. Then it moved off into the distant east and they followed.

They traveled for nearly two weeks on their eastern path. Then they saw rising before them mountains again, but being not of those same pillars, which they had made their home for those months after their quest in Aququaria. They made for these, and as they approached they witnessed two cites, one to the north, the other to the south, resting on a high cliff of the stone teeth of the world. Thus, they looked upon Merlaa and Ilith, the sister cities of Vinsnarpia, still under the dominion of men. But, the path went north to Merlaa, so they followed and let Ilith slip away from view.

There was a great gate at the base of the mountain from which Merlaa rested. And coming to the gate the company were asked many questions, but then allowed to go forth up to the city. They reached a stair that ascended to the high pass; it was lined on either side with tall heights, so that the way upward could be easily defended.

When they reached the top of the stair they beheld the city of Merlaa. It was a structurally grand place, being built from hewn mountain stone, but it was not necessarily a beautiful place. They witnessed towers and homes, but Marli led them forth to what could only be a ruler's palace.

They came to the door of the Palace of Merlaa and to the guard inquired of their captain. Speaking their names and the name of their absent friend the guards bestowed upon them strange looks of wonderment. But, the guards made no move against them; rather they bowed in respectful submission and kindly let them forth into the palace beyond. There they were granted an escort and were brought to the tallest tower, from which much of Vinsnarpia could be looked upon.

Being in the tower they turned to doors of ornate fashion. These were split down the middle and pushed back in an act of reverence and a hall with marble floor was laid out before them. They were ushered in, and the doors boomed shut in their wake. Above the marble floor was a high-sloped ceiling of ashen oak. Windows of stained glass emitted multicolored light into the chamber and were set in regular intervals. But, it was at the forefront of the great hall where their attention became focused. There stood upon a short height two thrones of polished stone. In one throne sat a woman of great beauty, but in the other sat a smiling Druwren Silverstar and upon his head was a golden crown.

...

As they have a way of doing, years slipped by. The treasures brought forth out of Aququaria were added to the king's treasury and put to use expanding the magnificence of the sister cities and their armories. Elik, Alazon, and Iad were given high commands in the military and protection forces of the city. They were also the sole advisors to the King of Merlaa, Druwren Silverstar.

So, happiness reigned during these peaceful days. The citizens multiplied and grew rich in both spirit and wealth. The only sadness of the land was that Queen Ilayan Silverstar was barren and could not produce an heir to the throne. But, such things they let pass as deemed unsolvable, and Druwren's temple grayed and Marli slowed down. This is how Merlaa sat and waited in its isolation. But, while it was bathed in golden light, outside the world was being swept under dark gathering clouds, which would soon find their way to Druwren's door.

Of The Ambassador of Myr

Outside in the world, envoys of darkness were being sent to the kingdoms to seduce them with dark power or to crush them by the power of force. Long did Merlaa escape the sight of the brewing power, which had awoken in the Isle of the Sea Towers, deep within the Sea of Monsters. But the dark vision of Myr, named Coirsc of old, had perceived them, and deemed them a mighty foe.

So, the Prince of Darkness sent one of his lieutenants, which governed Mashutol, the desolate dungeon that rested on the far side of the world. The ambassador had grown in strength in his isolation and had mustered in secret many servants, much more than Myr deemed possible. The ambassador had great and wicked plans of his own and saw his mission as a step in his play for ultimate power. The envoy used the great powers at his command and swept forth through darkness and through shadow to make his way to the Palace of Merlaa.

The light in the palace hall flickered and darkened, and then winked out completely. Elik Lighthand drew his sword and its power reestablished brightness to the chamber, but when it did it showed that an intruder was in their midst. Swords hissed from their scabbards as a figure in a black cloak stood hooded with his head bowed. It was a display of the figure's own arrogance and did not shed respect to the king, whom sat at his throne.

King Silverstar motioned for his mighty men to stand down, though the king's own hand desired to move towards Moonbeam, which rested on a stone alter between he and his wife's seats of power. Then the figure and his cloaked darkness began to move forward to approach the throne, but Druwren stood and reproached him, ordering him to stop. The cloaked figure obeyed, but there came from him a sneering sound.

The sound seemed to end before it truly could be perceived as being present. And the cloaked figure brought both his hands up and removed the dark cowl, which had shaded his face. What was revealed was a man both handsome and striking. His hair and eyes were black and piercing, and his face carved from jutting angles.

"I come with news and a petition of peace to the people of Vinsnarpia," the ambassador said with a sweeping bow.

"What envoy, invoking the title of peace, comes into a hall unforeseen?" King Silverstar countered.

The ambassador tried to speak, but was cut off by King Silverstar, "I have heard not a request of audience, nor have you spoken your name or the title of your master," King Silverstar said with fury seething from his words. "Get thee gone!"

The ambassador smiled, but there was danger at the edges of that grin, "As the lord requests," the envoy said with a mocking bow, which garnered gasps from those present. "But, know that I will return twice more and refusal to my request on my third visit will end with ill events transpiring."

And then the ambassador swept his cloak about his body and with a flash of darkness he was gone. Silence ruled the hall for many moments as eyes went questioningly to the king. The king returned to his throne and sat, brooding with thought. At last he raised his vision and he ordered those of his Hero Companions to learn everything they could of the unwanted envoy and the happenings of the world outside Vinsnarpia. These commands were obeyed, and it was not long before the results were revealed to the king.

King Silverstar soon became aware of the dark alliances being forced upon weak lands and the wars that were gifted upon those that still held strength. The Prince of Devindal had stirred, and the reach of his grasp was becoming longer. Every well-bodied man of Ilith and Merlaa were drafted into military service and taught the nuances of battle. Months had passed by since the envoy of Myr had visited Vinsnarpia, and the king dreaded his next impending visit.

The second visit came though, and through as little of prior warning as the previous one. The shadow came and was extinguished by the light of Elik's sword, though the will upon the blade had to be much greater this time. The ambassador laughed aloud as he made his entrance, his cowl thrown back and the belief of superiority mockingly revealed upon his face. This time he gladly made introductions.

"Oh wise king, I come humbly before you," the Ambassador of Myr said through grinding teeth and sneering breath. "No doubt, you know who I am and my mission, but I will gift upon you that knowledge anyway. I am the Wizard Scourge, Master of the Dungeons of Mashutol, and Ambassador of Myr, the Dark Prince of the Sea Towers. Make your decision and make it quick. Submit to the Dark Power or wait in fear for my third return."

King Druwren Silverstar stood and this time he did reach for Moonbeam and drew it. The ringing sound of the releasing sword drowned out the chatter of the agent of evil. Silver fire burned brightly from the naked blade, forged in the depths of forgotten time by the Falina smiths. Druwren came forward and Scourge fell back with a feeling he had yet to ever experience; fear.

"Get gone from my kingdom!" the king roared. "And if you return I will cut you in two with the edge of my blade, you foul puppet of evil. I am King Druwren Silverstar, Descendant of Hunters, Hero of the Goblin Wars, and Chosen of the Gods. I welcome war against the twisted workings of Gorthar!"

Then the Wizard Scourge faded away from a working spell as King Silverstar advanced in his uncontainable wrath. But, with his departure, Scourge whispered out words that all the gathered ears heard, "I will return!"

King Druwren did not waste a moment, but informed his court that he was leaving to go the mountains to scout the best way to secure their land from coming war. He would go alone, for everyone else would be needed in his absence. He did not take Moonbeam, but returned it to its scabbard and said it would serve as the beacon of his power until he returned. He took with him Marli, whom he said would be his defense if he became waylaid in the wilderness.

This is how King Silverstar left his kingdom. But, the enemy's spies were everywhere, being vermin and unlooked for creatures, and they witnessed the king's exit and reported it back to their masters. So, it was that Scourge sat in wait for the king to travel far away from his home. And it was then, that when Druwren was high in the Mountains of Sea Foam making plans to thwart invasion that the Wizard Scourge returned to Merlaa's court for a third and final time.

Of the Fading of Stars

It was in the king's absence that the Wizard Scourge, Ambassador of Myr, made his last appearance in the court of Merlaa. He brought with him his foul shadow and spoke words of power into the darkness. Rumbling and the quaking of the earth began to befall both Merlaa and its sister city Ilith. And a dark storm settled over the cities.

Elik Lighthand came forth with his sword, Amlyne, and held it forth, but to no avail. Scourge laughed at the fool's efforts, but gifted upon those in the court the outline of his shade. His true face he revealed as well, twisted and horrid, as he moved towards the two thrones, one of which rested unoccupied.

"I see that the king is not here to welcome me with his banter of kind words and sharp steel," mocked Scourge, "No bother, the queen is available. She can give me the answer I desire well enough."

Queen Ilayan Silverstar stood and she was regal beauty, "You know our answer, thou Wizard of Slime, now go and prepare your armies, for we shall meet them in battle."

Scourge's green dripping face deepened in its horror, "You dare mock my name? It is time for you to die queen, you and your people, for war is already upon you!"

As in answer, great screeches came from outside and the cracking of the earth became like echoes of thunder. Then the massive Seven Beasts of Gorthar arose from the dark fissures, which rent the ground. Towers cracked and fell from the tumults of their wrath and men and women were devoured and torn apart. No man with sword or halberd could sustain them or quell their onslaught.

Queen Ilayan cried aloud and Scourge made for her. Alazon stepped forward and unleashed Rose and its sizzling heat, but it was not enough. There was a flash as the red blade struck the wizard's staff and when the brightness subsided Alazon Defarith laid upon the ground lifeless and smoldering.

Iad, seeing his fallen friend, cursed aloud in his fury and hefting up Spelceir, he cast it. Like a bolt of lightning the spear singed through the air and struck the wizard as he moved to shield himself. But, the wound was not mortal, and Iad stood still and defenseless. Scourge lowered his staff and a green bolt shot forth and slew Iad Welf.

Then, only Elik Lighthand remained to protect his Queen. And Scourge turned to face him. But, Elik had witnessed the quick demise of his comrades and knew he was no match for the mighty wizard before him. He decided but one course of action was left before him. And holding up Amlyne he lent all of his will to the blade that it drained from him his very life. The sword absorbed the sacrifice and shot forth a pulsing wave of light that went forth across the land of Vinsnarpia.

And upon the Mountains of Sea Foam Druwren was thrown from his feet by the power of the light. When he regained himself, he stood and looked for the light's origin. To his horror, he witnessed what befell his home in his absence. There upon the jagged summit of a peak of a mountain, Druwren watched the wizard's storm and the mighty monsters that destroyed the cities of his kingdom. Then he and Marli left that place to return to do battle, but they both knew in their hearts that it would be too late.

In the Court of Merlaa, only Scourge and Queen Ilayan Silverstar remained. She had nowhere to flee, and in her fear she sat down upon her throne and gripped at its handles. Scourge came slowly forward rising in the cloak of his own dark majesty. The wizard witnessed the sword of Druwren Silverstar resting upon the altar and reaching forth he took and drew it. Then the words of Merlaa's king flashed in his mind and he smiled his ill intent down on a shivering queen. With a single stroke he slew her, slicing her in two, bestowing upon her the fate that had been the threat to him.

Scourge laughed in the hall of death. He took Moonbeam's scabbard and fastened it to himself and then sheathed the sword. Then, going to a window, he called out in a tongue of darkness and summoned the Seven Beasts back to their slumber beneath the world. And with a swooshing cloud of darkness the wizard left that place, leaving only his ruin behind.

Of the Exile to Scand

The air was cold like the breath of the dead. The water about the ship was blue, like veins that no longer pumped blood. Chunks of ice floated on the sea, extensions of an ever-spreading frozen world. Rising in the north were mountains buried under snow and frost. They were tombs of silence, perfect for the living, which wished for death.

Druwren and Marli had left Vinsnarpia shortly after its fall. The king had returned too late to witness the death of all those that dwelled under his power. The faces of the dead accosted him in the streets. Mutilated forms tore at him in their accusations.

His tower had been the only great height that had not been torn down from its foundation. And going there he dared to hope that he would find life in his court. He did not. In its place he found the ruined dead. Those that he had loved the most in this life had been violently slain. They were the stars of his life, and they had fallen and were now extinguished.

Marli howled in the Court of Merlaa as Druwren wept. He buried his queen and his companions, taking their bodies to a secret place high upon the mountains. He did not have the strength or time to bury the others, for all the citizens of the sister cities were no more. He searched through the remnants finding the remains that he could and then heaped them together and burned them in a great pyre.

He had left then, resigned to live in that land no longer and to go out and find a place devoid of life and the conflicts of spreading war. His anger was strong, but was dwarfed by the deep pit of sorrow in his breast. Besides, he could not strike back at those enemies that had destroyed his world; he had no army, no companions, and no sword.

He had found that seemingly empty land. Sailing north he had come to the Sea of Frost, which gave way to the frozen land of Scand beyond. He went there for self-exile and to await the clutches of death. He had wished that Marli would not partake in the suffering ahead, but the wolf would not be parted from his master and went into the northern wastes to share the burden of suffering.

They began to come in contact with great sheets of ice lining the tops of the water. Some of the ice began to break up at the cutting from the ship's bow, but as they advanced the world grew colder. Here the ice became thicker, and they were forced to abandon their ship, lest the frozen cutting blades rent it asunder, and the two passengers go down into a frozen watery tomb.

They walked across the ice heading towards the mountains adorned with snow. Their going was hard, for the wind blew great gusts of snow to block their path, and the temperature dropped to levels that made them numb from feeling. But, they could not stop, lest they perish there on the lower slopes. So, they went against the might of the mountains and the wicked storm to find shelter from the elements and the nightmares that followed.

Things are not always as they seem, and this was the case in this land of desolation. It was not abandoned, as Druwren thought it would be. And as the intruders climbed foot over foot slowly, ascending the freezing heights, eyes higher up were watching in their secrecy.

Night and day passed away and yet the two in a sojourn for a new home limped on. Life and its will were fading from them, for the glow had been weak at the start. But, as doom crept forth and the decision to halt and await destiny grew closer in Druwren's breast, they rounded a curve upon the mountain and witnessed a gaping maw that swallowed deep into the darkness.

They entered and found that the absence of the blowing blizzard brought great warmth back to them in their frigid state. Moving back from the opening, Druwren produced wood that he had packed and started a fire. Then both Marli and Druwren slept upon the cold rock and the strength of life returned to their limbs. Then, when day passed to night, and passed back to day they continued onward again, down into the confines of the mountain.

They unknowingly treaded upon sacred land to a people that held but one allegiance to the races from out of their realm. The knowledge of their race was but a myth whispered in jest. Their hiding in the north allowed them to multiply without hindrance.

Then it was as Druwren and Marli descended further into the mountain those people that had espied them since before their landing on Scand stopped them. They had yet to interfere out of the belief that the intruders would fall victim to the harsh elements. They had been wrong. So, a direct intervention was to be held, and the responsible parties punished.

The tunnel of the mountain widened, and growing it gave way to a large hollow that had many off-shooting paths. Druwren and his wolf came to the center of the hollow, but their paths were soon closed for great hulking men now filled them and came forward upon them. Marli snarled and his fur stood on end as his teeth were bared, but the wolf stood still, and Druwren kept his regal composure.

And so the Ice Giants of Scand were revealed. They did not assault the intruder that had come unbidden into their land, but instead looked upon him with doubt. Then, a larger shape came forth, dwarfing the heights of the Ice Giants already assembled. The Ice Giant King came forth and stood before Druwren and named himself.

"You may go no further!" the Ice Giant King said.

"Under whose authority?" Druwren asked without contempt.

"Under my authority!" cried aloud the Ice Giant King. "For I am Narok, King of Scand! And you are unwanted here and that penalty is death."

"I will accept the decision of lordship," answered Druwren without fear.

The Ice Giants that were gathered gasped in their shock and looked about the cavern chamber at each other in surprise. King Narok peered queerly down at Druwren. He too was shocked at the lack of fear of the promise of death. It was now a deed he wished not to perform, but knew he must follow custom. He looked to his people, and saw his feelings reflected in their eyes.

"May I ask your name, unhappy traveler, in a forbidden land?" King Narok asked.

"You may ask your majesty, but it is a name that no longer belongs to me, so I will not give you a false identity. I am simply now an exile of my own choosing," said Druwren.

King Narok nodded, "And does your wolf no longer bare a name as well?" asked King Narok in interest in what the response would be.

"My wolf is named Marli, and he is all that is left of my beloved companions."

Narok looked to the black wolf and Marli snarled his teeth at him. Narok could crush the wolf, but saw that he would suffer a grievous wound before the mortal blow fell. Narok did not wish to murder the intruders outright, so he let his thoughts take him and finally settled on an option.

"You and your wolf are brave, Exile," Narok began, "Here in the wastes of Scand we respect bravery as the highest meddle of the soul." Around the room there were nods and grunts of agreement.

"But, the ways of our land must be followed. So I gift upon you the one chance for your survival. I will meet you in single combat, no weapons are allowed. I never carry arms and I see that you keep none, so that law will not be broken. If I win, you will be put to death, and your wolf too will be slain. But, if you are victorious, I will grant upon you a mighty gift of men, which was found here in the northern frosts long ago."

"If it is the only way, then I gladly accept the terms," said Druwren as he began stripping off his heavy furs to prepare for what seemingly looked like his death.

What followed became legend throughout the lands of Scand. King Narok had the strength to crush rock but his speed was not the equal of the small man before him. Moving with that agile quickness, Druwren avoided the blows that would have snuffed out the flame of his life in an instant. Using his speed and cunning, Druwren removed the belt of Narok and using it as rope tossed it around the Ice Giant's neck. Climbing upon the Ice Giant's back to a place Narok could not reach, Druwren strangled him into unconsciousness. When Narok recovered he witnessed Druwren standing upon his chest triumphantly.

Anger quickly filled Narok's eyes as he gazed up at Druwren and the Ice Giants gathered about prepared for the wrath of their king. But, King Narok surprised all gathered when none other than laughter shook Druwren off the giant's chest. Druwren made to his feet quickly, not yet knowing if the guffaws of the giant were his amusement or madness. Seeing this, the king quickly promised that none of the gathered would die that day.

Standing, King Narok called to his men to bring forth the promised treasure. Then two Ice Giants came forth bearing a massive chest and laid it before their king. The king then called Druwren forward.

"You are mighty, my nameless Exile," Narok said in his mirth, "Long have our people kept the contents of this chest without using it. It was the gift of the Forever Night Sea, placing it here among us. Our smiths have used the ideas of the treasure's properties to make works of our own, but what dwells within belongs to man, not giant."

Narok flung open the chest and the hinges creaked from great age. "Come now, and take this treasure. May it lead you to a new destiny out of this self-inflicted exile!"

Druwren looked into the chest and was awed on what he looked upon. Within the chest, resting on a great pillow was the icesword Glacier, forged by the Stellar Mariner long ago. Druwren reached down and grasped the hilt, and drawing it forth he held it high and looked at its blinding majesty. The grip of the sword chilled him, but echoed the cold of his soul. He took the blade and felt that it had awaited him over long millennia.

The king looked upon the man before him in wonder, and he said, "Exile, long and strange must have been your journey coming here. Please, I ask that you gift us that tale."

Druwren looked to his frozen heart and for a moment it thawed. Looking to the king he proclaimed that he would not deny the request. So, Druwren Silverstar told his tale and his identity became changed forever.

Of Druwren Starfallen's Call to Arms

The tale was told. And Narok looked upon a king without a crown and a man who had lost all, which he loved. King Narok witnessed a man before him whose name no longer fit. So, it was in that hour King Narok of the Ice Giants renamed Druwren Silverstar and called him Druwren Starfallen, of which he was known ever after.

But, of listening to the tale, the wrath of the Ice Giants was incensed. They kept to their northern lands and stayed out of the affairs of men, but the spreading darkness sought to consume their world. And they knew that a time would pass as the dominions beyond crumbled, that when all was conquered notice would be taken of them. It would be with the full might and complimented host of Myr, which would assault them in ceaseless raids. Though, they may stave off the enemy long, ultimate victory would not be theirs.

King Narok then proclaimed Druwren Starfallen as their High Captain of War. Their plan would be to unite what factions of the world that still held their ground and to launch an unsuspecting attack on the world's enemy. Word was then sent to the Ice Giants' one ally in the world, the fairies of Crystal Keep.

A spell the fairies had on their domain, and they had yet to draw notice upon themselves in the terrible war that raged. Druwren Starfallen went with an Ice Giant diplomat and inquired for their aid. He did not ask for them to muster their strength for battle, but requested they use their gifts to go forth and inform those that had not yet been conquered to send in secret whatever contingent of troops they could spare.

This is how Druwren Starfallen built up a multilateral force of many races. Men came from Anwyn and Koransale, Ranzers from the Grasslands of Sanistair, Elves from Mistborne Forest, Dwarves from Castle Leymar of Solizar, fairy archers from the Crystal Keep, and the Ice Giants of Scand. They camped in secret about the Lake of Crystal Shards in the north of Ariwrath. And through the great work of the Ice Giants, a battle fleet of ships was made.

When all became assembled and readied, the final move was put into play. Soldiers boarded ships with their armaments polished and bright. Helms and armor were adorned and banners put to tall masts. So it was that the hope of Corthan set sail, to deliver a deathblow to the heart of Myr's evil power at the Isle of the Sea Towers deep within the Sea of Monsters.

Of the Bloody Battle of Corthan

The ships cut the waves while sailing deeper into the settled darkness. The spell, radiated outwards like pulsing power, giving dreadful aid to those that relished in slaughter across the world. But, the gloom itself held no thwarting power, and the unseen force inched closer to war.

The color of the water grew black and ripples coursed about the hulls of the ships. Soldiers looked overboard, feeling dread from the hidden foulness. But, they did not turn back, for their goal and battle was before them, and most were resigned to the fact that they most likely went to their deaths.

In the shadow of light, covered and filtered by great plumes of black smoke that belched forth from the furnaces of the now visible fortress of the Sea Towers, seven slim towers slid into the heights like straightened claws ready to grasp and throttle any that dared come within its reach. It was foreboding doom, and many of the soldiers that had fought to pull back their momentum of fear became broken. And in madness threw themselves into the dark rippling waters and were consumed by what was hidden below.

Druwren Starfallen, on his post aboard the lead ship of the armada, witnessed the display. Anger grew in him as he beheld the power of that force that had risen in the depths of the west. Then he drew Glacier and called out to those Gods that had marked his life's quest and decreed their intervention and aid.

The Gods that watched from both above and below heard his plea. The hour had not yet dawned when they could come forth in arrayed strength and battle the dark hosts of Devindal, for that can only come to pass with the calling of the Trumpet of Doom. But, they were allowed one short burst of intervention, and their powers broke through the black vapors that came from unseen evil machinations.

Then the powers of the Towers of Twilight broke through. Their golden beams descended through the broken space and cast illuminating light upon the armada and gave those upon the vessels strength and hope. But, in that moment they were also perceived by the enemy that sat in the safety of arrogance of the tallest tower, and he trembled with fear.

So, the call to arms was made to the minions of Myr. Goblins, orcs, trolls, and other foul slaves went forth and donned weapons and armor. They marched forth to the gates and battlements arraying themselves for the coming onslaught. Other denizens of hell made to ships bearing the Black Mark of Devindal.

A horn sounded from the deep confines of the enemy's citadel. It was a single note, containing a word of power. The Sea of Monsters and its rippling black waves began to bubble in rapid ferocity. Tentacles and great slithering arms rose up out of the waters. Many of Starfallen's soldiers were taken from the decks and brought down to emerging hungry maws.

Whole ships were ripped asunder, depositing their crews to swarming beasts that tore them apart. There was no time to stop and help those that had fallen overboard or the ships that were sinking and sliding under the waves. The dark fleet of Myr came forward rapidly, and soon there was an engagement upon the sea.

Arrows littered the sky above the churning waters. Catapults hurled heavy stones and burning pitch. Harpoons were fired and ships rammed each other. Forces from either side boarded vessels, and the decks were choked with fighting and blood.

Many of the allied ships brought forth by Druwren Starfallen broke through the enemy defense and sped on their course to the Isle of the Sea Towers and the great battle that awaited them. Ships landed on shores and docks and were met by the might of great lumbering trolls that moved to smash them before they could disembark. Ice Giants poured out of ship hulls and did battle with the trolls, slaying most of them. But, many of the giants soon fell, as pincushions to orc arrows.

Starfallen's forces gained the shores and docks, but with heavy losses. Druwren stood at the forefront, with Marli at his side, and Glacier sweeping away the concentrated foes. Glacier sang as she descended, her voice sharp like winter wind. Those the icesword touched shattered into fragments of frozen shards. Doom danced in Druwren's eyes and those that witnessed those terrible orbs fled or died from his wrath.

Narok came last of the invading contingent of soldiers. He grappled with those trolls that had survived and tore them to pieces. Goblins and orcs he smashed together, leaving behind ruined pulp. He became splattered in the enemy's gore and he laughed loudly in his madness.

Druwren led his soldiers forward, up to the gates of the wall that housed the tall towers within. Three gates were stationed before the invading horde, one massive, and two smaller for individual use. Druwren made for one of the smaller gates, hoping to gain entry with a few men and elves. The Ice Giants were too large for the smaller gates and made their concentrated assault on the main one.

Arrows, burning pitch, and stones rained down from the defenders high above. Men and elves shot their darts upward, but the wall provided too much protection to be penetrated from the low angle. The humanoid archers were singled out and quickly dispatched, with the Ice Giants then being targeted as they tried to muscle their way through.

Help came. Fairy archers flew with buzzing wings behind them. Rising to the height of the wall they fired their volleys of death into the defending ranks. Thus, the shootout took place on wall and sky. Many fairies were slain and cast from the air.

Druwren Starfallen and the small band that had followed him crashed through one of the small gates before it could be properly barricaded. They slipped past many minions that went to protect the main gate and to block the one that had been breached. Those foes that tried to stop Druwren were hewn by Glacier, the sharp teeth of Marli, or by the glittering steel that lined Druwren's defense. The Captain of Corthan made his way to the tallest tower.

Outside the walls, Narok guarded the ships. Tentacles from sea beasts rose out of the sea to splinter the ships' hulls, but Narok wrestled with them and tore them from slimy bodies. Others he pulled up onto the shore and smashed them with his mighty fists. His mad laughter continued, but was soon heard beneath the flowing waters by an old foe of Narok's friend.

Druwren cut his way to the central citadel. There he departed with all of those that had accompanied him, save for Marli. The warriors that had survived the crossing of the courtyard made a circled ring about the tower door and vowed to defend it until their dying breath. Druwren and Marli entered, and as they did great spiders descended from the heights towards them. Glacier flashed, and those that were not shattered in their ruin fled to unreachable holes.

Then Druwren took to the stairs and climbed the great height. Marli panted behind him. When he reached the highest chamber, Druwren parted from Marli and entered alone. With the door shut, Marli howled and gave warning to any foul creature that might give thought of approach.

Druwren Starfallen entered the Chamber of Myr, Prince of Devindal, Coirsc that was. Druwren stared at a figure with a black cape drooping from a solid back. A great height, Myr stood looking out a window to the combat below and beyond. He turned and faced the mortal that dared challenge him. His green face sneered behind a steel caged mask.

As Myr turned he brandished his black sword Blood Storm, forged with a captured soul of a Falina long ago. "You are the fool, King of Merlaa that spat defiance at the feet of my servants. I was told that your companions died like cowards and your wife tried her arts of seduction on my wizard. He told me of his detailed pleasure of spilling out her entrails," Myr said with a leering grotesque smile slithering upon his face.

Druwren Starfallen bantered no words. Instead, he raised Glacier and the chilled white blade hummed in defiance of the screech of the black sword of Myr. Then he came forward in wrath unimagined and became entangled in a duel with the son of Devindal.

...

U'Tun, the great sea serpent of Gorthar's finest design, swam in the depths of the ruined waters of war. He had gorged his gullet on many of those that had come from faraway lands. But, in the currents he heard the desperate call of his brethren and sped to their aid.

There at the shores of the sea he witnessed the floating carcasses of the sea beasts that had been slain by an opponent from above. Wrath and fury burned at U'Tun and he forced himself up and out of the rolling tide. U'Tun looked down at a giant covered in black inky blood. U'Tun screeched and shot down to consume the creature, but was flung back by a furious blow.

Narok snarled up at the rising monster, and struck with his fists several more times as it came down to feast on his flesh. U'Tun rebounded and swung far out of the waves and swooped in an arc surrounding the giant. U'Tun wrapped himself several times around the giant in tightening coils. Narok roared in the crushing constriction. But, the giant was able to keep his arms free as he was dragged to great depths under the sea.

U'Tun brought Narok to its nest far below the isle at the Sea Towers foundation. It turned to look into its prize's eyes as he consumed him, but Narok's focus was elsewhere. Narok's thick hands grabbed stone and rock of the pillars before him. Before U'Tun could react, Narok heaved with all his might.

...

On top of the highest tower, swords collided. Flecks of chipped ice and black steel peeled off into the surroundings of the chamber. Druwren was relentless in his furious attack on Myr. Myr's snarling arrogance was quelled by this onslaught, seeing now that his foe held neither weakness nor fear.

The tower lurched. Myr was thrown back to the far edge of the chamber and fell, while Druwren slipped back near the door from which he had entered. Far below Narok grabbled at the pillars, which held up the foundation of the seven Sea Towers. U'Tun struck again and again as he squeezed at his drowning catch, but even with death creeping in, Narok refused to yield.

The world lurched again and this time two of the towers fell into cracks that opened up and swallowed them. Druwren spared a quick glance outside and saw his army fleeing the gate back to their vessels at the docks and shoreline. Druwren would not leave, for he had business to complete. He started to move back across the chamber to where Myr was rising. As he walked, the world rocked again and a fissure formed at the center of the floor. Druwren looked at the cracking line and then back up to Myr, just in time to see half of the chamber break away to fall into an opening abyss far below.

Druwren moved forward quickly to watch Myr fall and be swallowed by the crushing stone that closed the gap. Druwren Starfallen stood still in his shock. He could not believe his foe had just been vanquished. He was brought back to reality by the howling and scratching on the chamber door by Marli.

Then Druwren turned and opened the door. He and Marli fled down the step as the rest of the tower began to crumble all around him. He came to the courtyard and stone fell and killed minions of Devindal without recourse. None paid him heed as he fled through the gate he had come in from.

Druwren Starfallen and Marli made it back to their ship just as Narok gave one last heave and then died. The force of the giant's tug brought down the breaking pillars of the Sea Towers' foundation. The whole of the isle was rent open and all of its remaining contents were swallowed into the watery depths below.

Druwren scanned the surrounding chaos. The spell of Myr's power was broken. The remaining enemy ships and the thriving beasts of the sea fled in all directions. The same happened all about Corthan as invading armies left the fields of plight and plunder. Far beneath the grave of the Sea Towers both U'Tun and Myr had been slain, but the Dark Prince's soul did not travel to the Void, for it was caught and held in that watery tomb, and would remain so until the breaking of Corthan at the sounding of the Trumpet of Doom, when he would rise again and come forward to do battle at Rantarok.

So was the dark spell broken. And the celebration of those that had lived to see it through was great. Druwren Starfallen watched from his empty ship that held only he and his wolf. But, he did not celebrate. All that he had ever loved was gone, and his stars had fallen from the sky. It was his decision then to leave and never return, even as his soldiers started to chant his name in victory.

The Last Voyage of a Falling Star

Druwren Starfallen sailed deep into the Sea of Monsters and was swallowed by a shroud of mist. Those who watched saw him never again, for he was gone and had traversed to nautical alignments found only by those chosen to. And the sea became rough as it rose and fell, heaving his vessel to great heights before it crashed down amidst the flowing foam.

Druwren stood stern with his old compass in his hand. For the raging storm about him was calm compared to that which raged in his heart. He had crushed the Sea Towers, overthrown Myr, the one who had orchestrated the fall of Merlaa, his kingdom, and killed his queen. But, many of his dearest friends too had perished.

He had seen enough of the world. He sailed now to whatever destiny the Gods had ordained for him. The waves calmed now, though the sea was still rough. Great pillars of shrouded rocks appeared now in the dim echo of fog. He forced his ship to avoid collision, but he knew he had to do nothing, for he was no longer in control.

The ship passed through the obstacles of teeth that littered the sea in every direction. Druwren looked back to see the labyrinth behind him. Then he looked forward to a calm sea and a monolith that rose to a great height. It was a tower made by no hands of man that Druwren knew. It was the color of a cold gray morning, its stone sea-sanded smooth.

His ship slipped slowly now over the tranquil waters. Druwren looked about in the cool depths for the source of a singing that he now heard. The singing grew louder as he approached the tower, as if it was a chorus of souls that sang his arrival. Here and there he believed he saw heads of horses rise above the waves, peering at him before they sank, before he could truly perceive them.

It did not matter, for his ship now came to the citadel's island. The gate into the tower stood silent and open. Within was a darkness that did not allow him to witness what lay beyond the gate. But the darkness did not appear to be evil.

He stepped off his ship onto an island that did not truly exist on Corthan. He took a few steps closer to the gate and looked within. A light now revealed to him what existed within. Knowledge of his duty was gifted upon him.

He turned back to the sea and saw there many heads above the waters. They were the horse heads he had glimpsed, but he now saw that they held angelic qualities. He saluted them and knew in their own way they saluted him back. Then he turned and took upon the second of his three great destinies. And alone, with only Marli at his side, he entered the Tower of the Dead, which had waited for his arrival since the beginning of time.

In the Sphere of Antion, high on the Ridge Cliffs of the Realm of the Echoing Thrall, evil has reemerged. Surrounded by the sparkling stars adorning the deep blackness of the Forever Night Sea, the Sphere of Antion has awakened from its deep slumber and evil once again pulsates from it in foul hazes of green and black. The Witches of Alordian, sorceresses of the Enchantress Celantra, have risen from their vaults sealed beneath the deepest depths of Antion.

Quickly they, with their evil host, stormed the watchtower Brunaderin, held by the servants of Tevindal after the War of the Gods. There the tower was cracked and its power broken and its halls became demented and filled with horrid shadows. The Witches with their victory increased in power, and the fallen protectors of Brunaderin rose again as undead demons. The swelled ranks of the Witches' forces swept across the realm crushing all remaining resistance.

Through desperation and determination, a Tevinite Priest offered a prayer up at the last falling stronghold of the realm, the Steeple of the Ice Star. The prayer was whispered from the priest's dying lips and as it floated like a wisp of cloud into the great vastness of the Forever Night Sea. Tormar, God of Wind, heard it faintly. Tormar brought this thread of news quickly to Achaines, God of War, but Achaines was weary of his mighty battle with Kaevon, and tired of battle as all the Gods were.

So, Achaines turned his attention to the mortals that had arisen amidst the turmoil of war and lay the burden upon them. Four he found that he thought suitable and he gathered them from across the Realms of Confusion, handpicked and delivered them on the Shores of Twilight, bathed only in the blue light of the ancient stars. He gave to them weapons used by Falina spirits, crafted in a time before even Mighty Achaines, and he sent them forth to war and legend.

...

And the sight was that of utmost beauty. The sand was smooth and white and called the Solar Sands. The sands gleamed with a tint of blue, reflections of the starlight above. The twinkling beacons mingled with the swirling nebulas of red and gold.

There too was song and it came from the soft waves of the sea. And the waters were tranquil and green and reached outward until they turned dark, mixing with the black edges of the Forever Night Sea. Lying to the east on the dim horizon was a fortress of worship. It was crested in royal blues and yellows, demonstrating the majesty of Tevindal. Rising from the tower was a pinnacle of raised majesty donned with a gem like blue ice. So, there stood the place named the Steeple of the Ice Star, and it was a place of brilliance in a world left to ruin.

Then Achaines set down his chosen. The hand of the Mighty released those four that he had gathered. Thus the heroes took their first steps onto the Shores of Twilight. And they looked about and were filled with wonder.

The four did not yet perceive their companions. For they looked into the swirling surroundings of the magnificent Sea of Darkness, whose currents touch every stellar beach of the Realms of Confusion. Then did the Gathered witness each other, and for long moments they were silent. Each of the chosen deemed the others about them powerful, and then one by one they came forward and announced their deeds and mantra.

There was Voldar Firesword with a mace of gleaming red stone, and at his side a thin dagger of silver given to him by Achaines. He wore a tunic of green covered by chain mail that was dulled from wear and use. His eyes were gray like clouds that precede a storm. His skin was tanned from many journeys under many suns, and his hair and eyes were black like raven feathers.

He declared himself a Talidon, a warrior of Tevindal's Holy Law. Before Achaines had come for him, Voldar had hunted down many followers of Devindal. There he had won much renown as was selected to be head of his order. But this he refused, for his duties would switch to that of the chair and pen and he wished to be following the course of action. So he left and forsook that path of the Brotherhood, and sought out wrong doers on his own to bring to justice.

Then a woman moved forward. Her skin was blue like pale ice and her eyes were matching emeralds. Her hair were streams of auburn fire, save for a braid of royal purple. At her hip was sheathed a starsword. Azure fire glowed from the sheath holding the blue blade within.

Sapphire, the sword was named and it had been fashioned in remembrance of Heaven's Star, the weapon of the God of War. A gleaming shield she had as well, and it was named L'terin, the Shield of Stars. She was a knight of the Tevinite clergy, called Linaan Tu Terrin, or the Keepers of the Stars, an order which drew its formations from the myths of the ancient Telimaki. She was a berserker warrior, strong and powerful, and both beautiful and exotic. She named herself Star Evenwind. And she truly was a gem among gems.

Then an old man came forward and named himself Ogrey Runebane. Chief advisor he had been of the king of the castle city of Gray Slate, in the lands of Plantyr. He had a long gray beard and was bald. He had with him a staff of ashen wood named the Lunar Staff, a gift from Achaines.

The Lunar Staff held the powers of moonlight and other mystical powers. In later times it would become the chief weapon design of the Protectors of the Throne of Plantyr. The old wizard wore a robe of the deepest purple. And upon his right arm was a gauntlet of magical qualities.

Last to join the chosen was Layulana Whitetree. Her stature was miniature to her mighty companions. For she was a fairy princess from the world of Corthan, and her power was not in the strength of arms. Standing she reached only close to three feet, but her fluttering wings let her soar to greater heights.

Her hair is the color of green grass. Her skin is pale and creamy. Her eyes are purple jewels only seen in the fairy royal line. Her laughter is like the singing of joyous songs and her joy is a blessing onto all that she meets.

She carries with her a small bow and a wand of healing nature. A magic quiver she was given by Achaines, which holds an endless amount of arrows. The contained arrows all have different magical properties, determined by the perceived weaknesses of the enemy.

Thus the four chosen companions knew each other and were glad for the company on the strange edge of the Realm of the Echoing Thrall. And after knowledge of each other was shared they moved forward upon the Solar Sands. Thus they came before the Steeple of the Ice Star. But before it was an open chasm with no visible passage to reach it.

Then Ogrey Runebane came forward. Holding the Lunar Staff before him he whispered words of power. Then beams of pale light came forth from the staff. The rays illuminated a hidden bridge that spanned the gap and the abyss below.

So they crossed the bridge, and it appeared that they walked freely across the floating air. And in doing so they came to the doors of a lost bastion of reverence to Tevindal. Then they entered and looking upon the interior of the Steeple, the Gathered were relieved. For the Steeple of the Ice Star had been met with little physical damage and the glorious display to Tevindal and his hosts were left intact in all of their glory.

Thus they walked through the grand hall of majestic display. Columns of polished marble soared to the high ceiling. Windows of many colors displayed heroic deeds of those of great renown from both turning cycles of the Ball of Light. The trim of the grandiose structure was gold, and sprinkled with perfectly placed sapphires.

The four walked down to the center of the holy relic. Their footsteps fell and reverberated, waking up echoes of memories in their mind that they knew came not from their own past. Lying on the tiled stone before the altar to Tevindal lay a Tevinite Priest who had died from no mortal wound. Long did Star look upon him before venturing to the Gathered that he died by giving up his soul to enchant the temple from the invasion of evil.

The others seemed relieved by this. Knowing that no foul foot had ever stepped within this holy place soothed their souls. Voldar came forward and hefted the priest, who was incorrupt. Then they sought out the crypts below and put the priest to his proper rest.

They left that place and Ogrey sent spells of darkness upon the bridge so that none may find it. And as they went up the path of sand to the dark foliage beyond, they looked back at the place and it shone brighter than before. Then let it be known, that no mortal stepped foot ever again in the Steeple of the Ice Star, and the evil of Devindal always evaded it. The Gathered went forth into the woods of the Enchanted Forest with their spirits strengthened by the Will of Tevindal.

...

Entering the Enchanted Forest a gloom was set upon them. The starlight that bathed the beaches was no more and became shadowed against their sight. The branches of the trees swooped and were of an eerie blue and black color. For a long while did they walk unhindered. At last sounds came from the depths of the forest and it seemed there was the noise of scuttling upon the fallen debris of the strange trees.

Then Sapphire was drawn. Its reverence reverberated with liking to the shining stars that could be seen from the beach they had traveled. Thus blue fire from the starsword shown out into the terrible darkness, and it was aided by the strength of the Lunar Staff of Ogrey Runebane.

From the swelling of darkness of the deep trees came forth the spiders of the forest. They were thick and black. Large constructions of evil covered with thistles of foul fur. Great quickness they possessed and they came forth to the Gathered with the determination of only the ravenously hungry. The Gathered, bathed only in their own light, stood at guard.

Sapphire flashed blue flame. There was the crushing thunder of the red stone mace of Voldar. Arrows flared and soared into the many eyes of the desperate creatures, turning to bright flame as they struck their target. And the Lunar Staff increased its spell, showing the many hungry eyes that hung all about them in the Trees of Darkness.

But the Gathered were not lost or dispersed. For they were all built of courageous character. Thus they battled all that came, and many dark creatures they slew, letting the dead pile up about them.

Layulana turned her sights upward. Her arrows flicked through the branches and the trees above. The arrows found many targets, sending a barrage of the dead to the forest floor. Then those that survived gave way, and they slunk back to the protective darkness, wishing not to confront the powerful beings before them ever again.

Then the Gathered continued on. And under the dark branches of blue leaves they passed unhindered. Long hours they spent under the cloaking shadows that kept them from the glowing stars of the Ancient Falina. Finally, they came to a small clearing where they felt safe enough to camp. They set the shifts for each other to stay awake as guard, and then traversed off to sleep.

Morning came in the Enchanted Forest as cool and mystical. Dew lined the leaves giving the blue tint a glowing aspect. The wind from the Solar Sea blew in strong, forcing its softness deep into the woods to reach and caress the Gathered that prepared to continue their divine quest. The Gathered woke, ate a small meal, and then headed east.

They traveled the day without incident. Losing their way only once, they finally came to the end barrier of the Enchanted Forest. A massive rock wall encompassed all that they could see. And from what they could tell, it reached miles on end in either direction.

But before them was a break in the rock. A great hole of darkness that was swollen and open before them. It was like some endless maw of an inanimate creature that would sweep them down to the Underworld below. Seeing no other path they went into this unnatural darkness and unknowingly entered the Cave of the Great Spider.

As they entered, Star drew Sapphire from its scabbard. Blue flame lit the oval rocky hall that was carved through the mountain of rock. Voldar followed Star with his red stone mace, and Layulana with her silver bow, as Ogrey lit the darkness behind them.

Deep they delved in the cave. Stalagmites jutted from the top and bottom of the cave like unmoving teeth that wished to grind them to pieces. Through the obstacles they passed, moving ever downward to the echoing depths.

Drops of water dripped here and there, calling their sorrowful song into the darkness. And following what they discovered was a small stream, which ran to the hollowed out bottom of the cave where rested a pond of gloom. The water of the pond was murky and dark. The stagnant pool stank of bile and foul things. Thus they avoided the poisoned waters of Galgothath and went forth to a tunnel that swerved up again to the surface.

The Gathered rose from the depths, but the smell of dreadful things grew worse. Broken bones and the fragments of the consumed now littered the rocky floor. Then there was a shadow that consumed all light. The shadow moved with great speed as it approached and let loose a hideous spasm of screams

And the form of the creature was that of a massive spider. Making those of the forest seem like newly born spawn. Then the light of Sapphire and the Lunar Staff were consumed and the monster belched forth vapors that were like black cloud. It seemed to grow as it ate the light, and its byproduct was a fog of foul darkness.

Thus were the Gathered lost from one another. And they fought to dispel the darkness. But, their initial attack faltered and they were thrown back.

Then they were forced to flee down the tunnel to the deep pond of Galgothath. But they were pursued, and the consuming shadow crept down to feast upon the fresh meat and jeweled weapons that had come within grasp of its maw. But, around Galgothath the Gathered spread out. And with doing so they came upon the shadow from both sides.

Here and now the weapons of the Gathered did not seem as tasty as the beast had once presumed. For the weapons were blessed with the power of Tevindal and from the shielding force of the Steeple of the Ice Star. Though the glowing light of Sapphire was dimmed, the blade still sung as it struck deep into the shadowed body. The Great Spider, Malag, roared in fury and pain, but was answered only with the plucking of a bowstring and the hum of arrows.

Thus, did Layulana strike many blows against Malag. Then Ogrey came forth with his true strength. And the lighting of his gauntlet of power was like an explosion of flame, which even the black vapors of Malag could not resist. Then he reached forth and grasped one of the spider's legs and it roared in pained fury, its shriek causing the stony walls to tremble and shake. Then with chanted murmured words the spell about the magical gauntlet grew, and its flame intensified.

Then did Malag turn all of his attention to the aged wizard. Ignoring the blows of the mighty weapons that rained down upon him, Malag opened his venomous dripping maw to devour the holder of his torment. But, the attacks of the Gathered while Malag was distracted weakened him, and Ogrey proved to have superiority. Ogrey then forced Malag into the horrid pond of Galgothath, and the vile water burned off the haired and needled flesh of the spider, and the monster screamed its death song as it was boiled alive.

The Gathered then left the depths of the dwelling of the Great Spider. And ascending upwards they came upon the beast's inner lair. Then Sapphire flashed with blue brilliance and cleared the webs that blocked their way. Doing so they came closer to the dim illumination of the land above the dwelling of darkness, and soon came forth to the Realm's desolate desert.

Leaving the Underworld, the Gathered came upon a place of ancient sand. It was a wasteland of crushed ancient meteors that had been thrown by the Stellar Spirits of Tevindal during the War of the Gods. The sand was pulverized ash that glittered and sparkled under the star filled black sky. Long ago it had been a great field of battle.

The marshaled army of the Witches of Alordian had been stationed there when the witches were many in number. Before the surviving three witches had taken hold of the Sphere of Antion, the massive force of Celantra had camped upon the open plain in their siege of Brunaderin, the tower on the shoulder of the Ridge Cliffs. The Falina within the tower knew they could not last long, so a messenger they sent forth to the stars. Arriving wounded and dying at Cloud Keep, high in the Realm of Floating Wind, the Falina, Geladar the Brave, requested Tormar's aid.

Geladar died at the Wind God's feet. Seeing this bravery and sacrifice, the God of Wind was moved. Tormar gathered the strongest of his Sky Giants, and upon a vessel of majesty they sailed the Forever Night Sea to a belt of asteroids and meteors. Removing the massive boulders from the stellar currents they heaved them forth and crushed the besieging army of Celantra. Thus, the plains of green grass that lay before the Tower of Brunaderin were no more, and was replaced by the ash of the stellar stone and was called ever after the Cosmic Dust Fields.

The Gathered moved freely now on this patch of sandy nothingness. For a while they marched, then camped and refreshed themselves from their trying adventure. Rising, they went forth again and spent many days without trial or complication. Thus, they moved across the drifting sands until on the edge of the visible horizon they witnessed the Ridge Cliffs of the Realm of the Echoing Thrall. There among the collecting shadows and the dim light rose the shadow of Brunaderin, now renamed Gualiath, which had become a resting place of ghouls.

The tower grew in height as they advanced across the sandy plains. A dark fog hung about its lower levels, and an eerie dark cloud rimmed its summit as a crown of evil. Before the Ridge Cliffs was a vast crevice that was a natural guardian to the lands to the east and spanning that gap was the Bridge of Shattered Twilight, once a brilliant construction of Falina architecture known simply as Twilight's Span, but it had since fallen into shadow and decay.

As the Gathered advanced they perceived a solitary figure upon the bridge donned in armor that was the shade of darkness. The figure stood still as death as they came forth. As they came near to the mouth of the bridge the figure drew forth a black blade and raised his visor. Heartless black eyes, like twin black holes sucking to extinguish all that they beheld, glared hungrily at them.

For all their power, the Gathered were stayed. For they knew they looked upon a mighty opponent worthy of their combined effort. Their weapons they drew slowly and the Gathered held their ground. None were eager to face the Dread Lord before them, but the battle had to be fought.

So, Voldar went forth. Brandishing his mace, the Talidon came forward to deal with the vilest of Devindal's minions, a fallen star of Tevindal. Then the two met in single combat. Swift was the black blade of the Dread Lord, and Voldar was wounded in many places before he fell back to the strength of his company.

And seeing a companion of the Gathered defeated, Star became enraged. Sapphire came forth with a blue burning spark of fire. Star rushed upon the fallen Falina and the clash of the two blades sounded of high ringing steel. Many long minutes the two traded blows. Then Star tired, and was slashed by evil steel forged by Gorthar Stronghammer himself.

The Knight of the Keeper of the Stars fell heavily onto the bridge. Then did the Dread Lord raise his sword to smite her, but he was distracted from his prize. For Ogrey had come forth onto the bridge with the Lunar Staff before him and had let loose a concentrated pale beam of light into the eyes of the creature that was once truly a Falina. Then the Dread Lord fell back and Ogrey came forth and pulled Star back to safety.

Layulana then brought out a magic wand and healed her two injured friends. The four Gathered fell back to camp and regroup. But the Dread Lord moved not, and stayed upon the bridge. Then for three days did the Gathered rest. In that time both Voldar and Star regained their strength and the four companions talked of plans against the Dread Lord.

Then on the fourth day they came forth again for battle. Layulana hovered across the crevice that led down to the abyss, firing her bow in rapid succession. The twang of her bowstring was like the strumming of a harp. Her arrows were swift and plentiful, descending upon the Dread Lord that stood sentry upon the bridge.

The dark knight of Devindal moved quickly, parrying the missiles that came for him. Thus was the opening made for Star and Sapphire. And she came like the tide carrying fire on its wave. Sapphire roared and sizzled as it cut the air, distorting the patterns of sight and singeing those dimensional elements hidden from mortal eyes. The fallen Falina knew not what to do, for he was overwhelmed by the ferocity of the Knight of the Clergy.

So two knights of the orders of light and darkness met in a duel of legend. The force and blue flame of Sapphire, with the sting of Layulana's arrows was too much to hold against, though the Dread Lord held the advantage for a time, the Dread Lord was the stronger, being of ancient blood. The fallen Falina let loose mighty stroke after mighty stroke beating back Star to the rail of the bridge, trying fiercely to send her over the edge to her doom.

But Star held L'terin before her and that protective shield absorbed the strokes. At last the Dread Lord prepared to make his final stroke, which would have been the deathblow of Star and the failing of her band. Star saw her coming doom and had never expected it to be at the hands of one who was once a Falina, still a Falina, but had fallen to the sway of Devindal and his servants.

As the Dread Lord raised his ancient sword, a bright light exploded, but the light did not come from the blade. It came from her shield and it shined like a force of stars, and being blinded by its light the Dread Lord was rendered helpless, and in that moment Star granted no quarter, and cleaved the Dread Lord's head from its body. Then the headless body heaved and stumbled over the precipice into the swallowing darkness below.

Thus the bridge was gained and the path to Gualiath cleared. The Gathered made their way to the land beyond. Then they looked upon the high tower that rose up before them as a monolith of degradation. Its shadow was great and presented the chill of winter into their bones. But they moved onward, not allowing for the strength of the evil presence at the tower's height to control their actions.

They moved up the road to the tower. They swayed through the patterns of rock clusters of the Ridge Cliffs. They swung left then right in a constant ascent to the summit where the gate stood closed by the hand of the enemy. And lining the path were the fortunate dead.

For they were the ones not raised in a reanimation of evil doings, but their fate had been the artistry of flesh made banners for the Witches of Alordian. Those who rested in the state of torment were those souls too strong to conquer, and their reward was to line the road in a rotted incorrupt state of impalement.

So did the Gathered pass through the grim tunnel that led the way to the gate high on the shoulder of the Ridge Cliffs. Never did they sheath or holster their weapons, for evil was upon them and they felt a watchful eye that monitored their progress. At last they came up to that looming tower that was once a watchtower over the Sphere of Antion, until it was overrun and became the outer gateway to that accursed place of wizardry and witchcraft.

Before them was a new structure of twisted and mangled iron. For the original gate of Brunaderin had been broken and its remnants still lay on the rocky earth as reminders to the strength of the tower's new inhabitants. There they stood at the gate, not possessing the power to smash it and pass into the abode of darkness within.

But, strength of arms was not required to enter, and as they stood there a great shriek went up and the Gathered fell. Their weapons dropped helplessly from their hands as they covered their ears. Then looking up they perceived many eyes, though they could not witness the faces they belonged to. And before them the great gate screeched opened to a black gaping maw of shrouded darkness before them.

Then all was silent. In the air hung most noticeably a hunger for killing and death. But, the Gathered had no choice but to continue forth. Collecting their weapons, and lighting torches they went forward into the unholy darkness. As they entered there was a rapid movement and a loud clank as the gate slammed shut behind them.

Then all was still. The flames of the torches barely bit at the cloud of darkness, revealing only a few meters in each direction. Then words of a spell were muttered quietly, and a great illumination of pale golden light expanded and surrounded the Gathered as a protective sphere. For, Ogrey had lit the Lunar Staff, and its powers protected the Gathered from any spells or projectile missiles that may be launched at them from the eerie darkness.

The silence then became broken. And beasts that were once men made ravenous noises of hunger for flesh and death. So, the undead and decayed protectors of the tower came forth as the Gathered huddled together.

The undead about them were many and a shudder of fear found its way to Star. The fear increased to the point in which she believed her soul would be lost. But it was then in that great inner darkness that a Song was faintly heard. It came from some great depth of the ocean of the Forever Night Sea and radiated across the waves to find Star and her companions.

It was Star who first heard it. And in her awe of its complete and utter beauty she was stayed and stopped. Her sword dropped low with only her shield L'terin held high before her. The shield recognized the Song of its namesake and drew from it great protective powers, but for a moment Star knew not the singer.

Then the Song penetrated her, and she knew it to be the melodic words of Breina Goldenflower, L'terin the Falina, named by her husband in his madness. And she wept openly for the gift that had been bestowed upon her and soon her companions joined her in her tears. But, the cursed monsters about them could not withstand the Song in their state, and they were felled, giving way to the top of the tower and the guardian that held it.

Star then sank to her knees. There she gave thanks to Tevindal for the glorious gift he had given her. Her voice rang clear as she called out to Breina, hoping to gather a glimpse of the great memory of a too distant past. But, the wish was stayed, for the Goldenflower came not. But the thought of her blessed form was drawn into Star's mind.

Then the Gathered moved on. And they were full of strength and vigor. Thus Gualiath was gained. They traveled up the spiraled stairs to the room at the top, which they found shut to them. Then Voldar proudly moved forward. He rapped loudly upon the great door before him and commanded entry.

Silence answered. Then laughter followed. It was laughter that was gifted with madness. And the voice that spoke was meant for the grave.

Foul words were spoken, much of them in a language none of the Gathered knew. But of what was told is not fit for tales. But the door was unlocked and the challenge of Voldar answered.

Then did the doorway swing inward revealing a once grand chamber that now was the domain of a devil. Shadow was the chamber's raiment and so was blood. For all about the chamber were pools of the red liquid, turned now to a moldy maroon. But before a shaded window that was once the lookout for the guardian of the tower of Brunaderin sat Grudor, the Lord of the Grave, and keeper of the tower Gualiath, in a throne made of bones.

The thing rose as they entered. It was not much more than bones laced with tendons. Its eyes though, contained a red fire of madness. And draped around it was a black shroud and its bony fingers wore many rings of power wrought by Gorthar, the Dark Smith, in the evil furnaces of the Underworld.

The Lord of the Grave spoke to them though it kept not a tongue in its decrepit mouth, and worms descended from its jaws at each word. Star brandished Sapphire as he stood and Voldar brought up his mace with thoughts of smashing the unholy monster. Layulana put away her bow, deeming that her wand of healing would be better to aid her comrades. Ogrey held back the Lunar Staff and clenched his gauntleted fist before him and it roared in flame.

Grudor watched them in contempt. With a wave of his hand the door shut behind the Gathered. Other words he chanted, and from the pools of blood came golems of dripping gore. Grudor spread his hands and piles of bones that were scattered about the chamber turned to skeleton warriors brandishing swords and axes.

Grudor sat back down on his throne to watch the spectacle. A hazy, filmy hue now surrounded the throne and the master of the tower. Thus, the Gathered found themselves with foes on all sides with the demon Grudor seemingly invincible to blows. They formed a triangle pattern with Layulana fluttering between the other three for protection.

The skeletons and golems came at them. And the hall was filled with the sounds of ringing steel, the crushing of bones, and the splattering of pulpy flesh. The Gathered slew all that came at them only to have the defeated foes reform and rise again.

Then did the Gathered see their chance to defeat the barrier of Grudor. A splintered bone of a slain skeleton flew across the room and crushed a vase on the far end of the chamber. With the breaking of the vase it caused the glimmering shield around the demon lord to darken. Grudor roared in uncontained fury, revealing the truth to his weakness.

Layulana then dropped her healing wand. And bringing forth her bow, she drew from her quiver many arrows and sought out her targets. Her arrows flew true from her bow, striking vase after vase, weakening Grudor's power.

Then the Lord of the Grave put no more strength into the reanimation of the dead. Instead he rose from his throne and came forth. Spells he conjured, and dead sickly things fell from his outstretched hands. But, Ogrey was as the magical shield to the companions, and he cast many spells that deflected the evil devices.

Then did Star and Voldar move forward together. And Star struck with Sapphire, but the blow did not hit its mark, for she was wounded and was rendered unconscious. But Voldar was not heeded. He came at the lich and struck many times with his mighty mace. With its power, the mace crushed the bones of Grudor, until at last, a mighty swing broke open the ancient skull, and destroyed the spark of Devindal, which resided within.

Thus the tower was won. And the Gathered went to Star Evenwind and granted her aid. Rising from her pain she watched as the spell upon the tower receded, and the foulness that had been forced into its walls dissipated and was gone.

Then did the Gathered rejoice, for they had accomplished great deeds. And even though much more danger waited them, they gave it no thought. The victory was great, and they wished to rest, and bask in the glory of a deed that would be part of their legend and myth.

They rested, and for seven days they stayed within the strength of the tower. Then Star went out to the great balcony that overlooked the land and she saw over the Ridge Cliffs to the Sphere of Antion beyond. The sphere was the hue of green slime. Its aurora was thick and impenetrable to the sight of the Gathered. But they knew that their destiny loomed there, and with that they must go.

And leaving, they gathered their belongings and left the tower of Brunaderin and went forth to the perilous paths of the Ridge Cliffs of Antion. There they climbed to great heights, and their nights were spent under the shadow of that evil place with no cover against the howling wind. Spells and charms of evil were spent against them, but their will was strong and they did not falter into fear. But their every step was observed, for the Witches were alerted and prepared for their coming.

On the third day the Gathered crested the Ridge Cliffs and came to the barrier known as the Sphere of Antion. They came to that place at dawn, and the solar star above illuminated the world, though light touched not the foul darkness before them. Then for a long time they pondered how to enter the Sphere. For the Gathered could not enter despite all their efforts. They were at a loss.

The Gathered camped at the gate at hell's shadow. And the Gathered left no watch, for they all fell to an enchantment of sleep that came not from the Witches within, but of the Lordly spirits above. Their dreams were filled with many magical thoughts and adventures.

Star Evenwind dreamed of a road that never ends and a tower of beauty amongst a field of carnage. Voldar saw many other things. He witnessed one of his descendants and his travels across space and time. He saw also a key of energy that lay within a dark place unreachable by him alone. Layulana dreamt of a high ledge and a place of deep darkness.

But, of the four, Ogrey dreamt with the most clarity. Ogrey saw the path that they must take. There was a path that was deep and dark, hidden against the mist. It descended under the world to a chamber wrought long ago. And it was a place that the Witches had long forgotten, even though it held the secret to obtaining entrance in their unholy land.

And this place, Ogrey saw, was hidden on a dangerous path of the Ridge Cliffs. The path led to a high place, where the Ridge Cliffs ascended over only the Forever Night Sea, and its swirling darkness. There, below the hidden cave in its storm of mist was a black hole that sucked away all that tumbled off the cliff, and those lost were swallowed and never found again.

Ogrey too saw the only trail that could correctly lead them to this dark entrance. For all other paths, though they may seem correct to the eye that perceives them, fall into folly and dismay. And when his dream broke, Ogrey rose in splendor of one that had witnessed a vision from the Gods, and he awoke his companions and told them the tale of his revealed foretelling.

And so it was, the Gathered sat there in the shadow of the cold dawn and told all that was gifted upon them during their slumber. Their revealing told much and raised many more questions, and some among the council wondered if they were being sent into a trap of ruin. But, it was soon decided that their dreams had been gifts, because all felt refreshed, and a holy presence seemed to still linger among them.

They then rose to meet their fate. Gathering their belongings, they went in search of the mists that indicated the place where this cave was hidden. So they circled the Sphere of Antion and its clouded doom, a doom that surely lurked within. Then they saw from far off the mists that clung to the edge of the Ridge Cliffs, and moving slowly, they came to it.

Then they stood at the edge of the precipice, and looking down they perceived through the swirling mist the Dark Sea that raged below. And unlike the Shores of Twilight, where the Solar Waters are calm and tranquil, here the cosmic waves were full of tumult and violent unrest. Then they descended using ropes and grapples.

Voldar was first to enter into the cloud of mist, and he disappeared to his companions and was swallowed. But his voice came upwards to those that waited, and hearing him they were given hope. Then did Star follow, and after her came Layulana, and last was Ogrey the wizard.

They found that place, which Ogrey had seen in his dream. Then moving through the mist they entered the dark cave on the hidden path of the Ridge Cliffs. And in doing so, they left the world.

The Temple of the Heroes

Thus, they were transported to a world unknown. It was a dark dwelling, carved by some ancient hand, but the Gathered knew not if it was a hand guided by good or of evil. But they moved forward into this ancient void, letting Ogrey's Lunar Staff light their way.

What they witnessed was a temple carved out of the earth and rock. It seemed a place of ancient vigil, for there were decayed murals upon the walls that had passed out of understanding long ago. There, the burden of darkness was great, and though the Lunar Staff held great power, more strength of light was needed.

Thus, the others lit torches to witness this place amidst the Ancient Stars of the Falina. So they moved deeper into the forgotten majesty of a palace held by great beings long ago. Soon they witnessed the rising of a great ceiling that was in the shape of a dome, which in an age lost may have shone brilliantly in the dawn. Here too were crumbled relics that were once of great beauty, before time or maybe even war brought its inevitable ruin.

They moved past the chamber and entered into another place. Here was a great passage lined with grand rooms and chambers. Some the Gathered deemed these to be ballrooms or council rooms for kings, with others were stockades where soldiers were marshaled.

Storerooms they found, some still obtaining ancient weapons that crumbled to ash at the touch. They found shields and coats of arms that contained a crest of the likes, which none of the Gathered had ever seen. And the crest was that of a ray of light radiating from a beautiful woman's visage.

Some of the Gathered believed this to be some ancient Falina stronghold during the War of the Gods, and that the woman was none other than Breina Goldenflower. But some of the others believed something entirely different. And they believed that it was the palace of some future vision, and that the lady that held the light that would conquer the darkness of Devindal.

But of the truth, no stone or decayed treasure gave word. They continued their passage deeper into the world unknown, not knowing for what they sought. As they moved farther down the passageway, they found at last a grand chamber at the hall's end. Here was the throne room of the realm's power, and it had not been touched by time.

Arrayed across the high walls and ceiling were banners of golden light, striped like the rays of dawn. Statues of heroes also lined the chamber. They stood tall in their majesty, their swords drawn or bows knocked. Their eyes were piercing jewels of sapphire or emerald. Between the monuments of the heroes of the realm, or possibly the entire Realms of Confusion, was a purple carpet lined in scarlet, tracing its way to a tall golden throne.

Voldar stopped, and gasped at one of the statue's visage. He had seen the face only once, during his dream the night before. He told his companions and they stopped to study the statue of the man. When asked on whom he was, Voldar only shook his head. He explained that he believed it to be a distant descendant who will come and fight a great battle in the War for the Ball of Light.

Bewildered, Voldar stood facing the statue for many minutes. He wondered about many things. His thoughts traveled to his own place in time and history, and he hoped his deeds would be noticed. But, such thoughts passed from him as he looked to the statue, for if what he was seeing was a true piece of some possible future, then his deeds and walk of life would continue by those that came after him. And he did not know that he was part of a bloodline of kings and great heroes. For the Blood of Rantar was in his veins.

Voldar then forsook his thoughts and soon joined his companions in the searching of the chamber. They moved about the chamber, admiring it as much as searching for its secrets. Layulana then gave an exclamation of joy, for behind the tall golden throne she had found what she believed a hidden passage that led to place below. The others came and confirmed her find.

Then with a combined effort they pushed the throne forward. While doing so, they heard a loud click, and with that sound part of the floor removed itself and revealed a small stair to the hidden depths below. The path below was dark and the air cool, and there was a faint stale scent, which presented itself. The Gathered wondered if perhaps evil kept its presence there. But they dwelled not on that thought, and releasing the fear that may have been briefly upon them they entered the stair and went to the world below.

...

While descending they became cold. For the air was chilled and the walls that were visible were covered with ice. Voldar slipped on the slippery stair, but Star stayed him. At last they came to the bottom of the stair, which gave way to frozen ground.

Here the darkness was thick, and Star drew Sapphire, but she drew it not for combat, but for its blue flame. And the light of Sapphire echoed off the ice and shone throughout the frozen chamber under the earth of some unknown plane. The light revealed tunnels that delved further down into the depths, and the Gathered were at a loss on which path to follow.

They held counsel with one another. And in doing so they discussed their options. Then they chose the path that led to the deepest place under the frozen world. After gathering themselves and their belongings they set foot down the frozen path, which led them to their destiny.

Time seemed to cease. Their memories were forgotten, all save for the cold within their bones. The Gathered plunged deep into the ice dungeon of the Temple of the Heroes, a place lost amongst the stars, and the deeps of time and space. Then the descent came to an end and the ground was level.

The Gathered saw lain out before them a great chamber carved in ice. Here walls no longer existed, and as they moved forward they passed through a haze of blue that was before them in the tunnel. They felt their bodies quiver as they moved through the field, for they had passed through a portal and had come to another world in their search for the path to Antion.

Here the realm of ice glowed. Its brilliance was overshadowed by an eerie doom. For this was the center of a hell long forgotten, and most the beasts that once lurked here in the depths had either left or had been driven out by force. So the Gathered went forth, moving slowly and expected anything.

They moved across the vast chamber, with the cold chilling their bones. They came to an abyss that cut its way through the ice, and looking down the Gathered perceived no bottom. But there was a bridge that gapped the ancient hole. It had been badly damaged during some battle long ago and looked like its strength had since faltered.

Then the Gathered perceived they were not alone. For in the deep dark of the abyss arose a noise of great concern. And it was the sound of beating wings. How deep its origin was, none of the Gathered could guess. But, it came rapidly, its increasing ferocity resonating like a violent storm, until at last the creator of the maelstrom crested the ledge that stood at the brink of black nothingness.

It hovered before them, foul reek emitting from its beating wings, which caused such strong winds that the Gathered were forced back. It was a dragon of ancient origin. Its scales were layers of blue covered in ice. Great icicles were flung from its beating wings, like a barge of transparent daggers. Its azure eyes burned from seeing enemies once again after so many years. The dragon's maw slowly opened, revealing smiling death. Thus, Icilelyki the ice dragon, prepared for battle.

The dragon continued to look down at his partly petrified prey as Ogrey came forward and cast a spell around his bewildered companions. From the combined powers of his magical gauntlet and the Lunar Staff, a shield a flame was woven about the Gathered as Icilelyki breathed frozen death. The frozen breath struck hard against the wall of fire, nearly extinguishing the flames. But the fire of Ogrey held, and Icilelyki roared his fury.

Layulana rose from the fiery shield and fired several arrows. The bolts bounced harmlessly off the mighty dragon's scales. Icilelyki in his wrath turned his attention to the fairy. His breath came forth in a cone of a destructive blizzard. As Layulana fled under Ogrey's shield the tips of her wings were turned to ice and forged together. Unable to control her flying, she fell and landed upon her face.

Star came quickly to her, holding her down. The Knight of Tevindal instructed her not to move, or risk the shattering of her wings. But, as the warrior spoke the dragon came ever closer with its mouth gaping open in hopes of grinding his foes to oblivion. Then Star stood, and she revealed Sapphire to the ice dragon. Then was the light in the cave unbearable, for the fire of the starsword reflected the frost of the dragon, and for a long moment Icilelyki was blinded.

Then did Ogrey lower his spell shield and Star came forth with bright blue flame, appearing as a Falina that had yet to be hatched. And her blue fire grew brighter as she approached the blinded beast. Then all was still as the two faced each other. But the dragon dwarfed Star and her blade forged by stellar steel.

The blue fire flashed once and then a second time. The ice upon the scales melted and a searing wound was left upon the wyrm's body. Then Icilelyki roared and the frozen walls shook, sending down bolts of loosened ice. Several of the falling frozen blades pierced the dragon, but Ogrey raised his fire spell to protect those with him. Star moved like the wind, and rolled upon the ice under the dragon's shadow.

With the brightness of Star removed, the dragon recovered his sight and perceived his enemy below him. He slashed with his mighty claws at the bright light, but Star struck, severing several of the talons. Icilelyki rose up, his wings beating madly, and he breathed his frozen breath in reckless abandon. Star rolled across the ice, but two of her fingers of her shield hand were affected by the breath and shattered.

Star screamed, and for a moment her bright light faded as Sapphire fell from her grasp. Then did the dragon make to tear Star to pieces, but Ogrey released his shield and sent several spells towards Icilelyki, and Layulana loosed many arrows, and Voldar cast a pair of daggers. The blades and bolts struck at the dragon's face, causing minor injuries. But, the spells were missiles of wizard fire, and they seared through the lowered defenses of the wounded dragon and began to cook the insides of the beast.

The dragon fell to the icy floor. There he withered in pain and torment, and the wizard moved his companions back to escape being crushed. But Star recovered, and looking upon the dragon she was filled with courage and wrath. Then she retrieved Sapphire and the starsword roared to life at her touch. She came forth, slowly, deliberately, with Sapphire in her right hand like a burning torch.

Elegantly, she moved to escape being crushed by the rolling monster. And holding the burning blade over her head, she called out in a voice that spoke a language long forgotten, and she knew not it's meaning, "Terrin due tol eletal e'!" This means, 'May the stars burn brightly forever!'

There was the roar of fire as the sword descended and cleaved Icilelyki's head from his body. The spell of her madness broken, Star fell back in fear at the death throes of the decapitated dragon. The body of the slain dragon rolled out onto the bridge that spanned the chasm. Then there was a loud crack as the ice gave way to the weight of the beast, and both bridge and beast fell and were swallowed by the hungry darkness.

Star sheathed her sword and laid down in exhaustion and pain as the others came to her. Layulana spoke soothing words and waved her wand over Star, and the Knight of the Clergy had her pain and open wounds healed, but her fingers were not restored. Then Voldar went to the edge and peered down into the nothingness, not knowing how they would proceed.

Then they knew there was but one choice. The Gathered knew their path would only be gained by Layulana with her fluttering wings. The three looked upon her and instructed her in this truth. Then she was scared to go on without her strong companions. But, she agreed and listened to their plan.

Ogrey cast a spell that melted the dragon's ice from Layulana's wings. Then did the wizard cast a second spell, for the path beyond was filled with shadows and a great darkness. So, he sent upon her a brilliant glow, so that she shone bright like the Ancient Ones in their true forms. Layulana became like a bright star in a world of hidden evils and cold darkness.

Then she took up her bow. Notching an arrow, she spanned the open chasm. When she reached the other side she turned and looked upon her friends, wondering if she should see them again. Then turning she went into the only passageway that angled down into the depths below.

Layulana went down the passage of ice. Etched into the frozen floor were steps spiraling downward. Her light lit the way, and things that lived in the deep darkness of the world fled before her.

Coming to the end of the stair, the passage gave way to an entrance of a chamber that held an aura of strange power. As she entered there was a glimmer of strange light that echoed from the far side of the openness. The light around her painted the image of this new place in her mind. She knew this was a lost place of power, but she felt too that this was a place of neutrality, rather than a place that held sway with either Tevindal or Devindal.

Here the ice was smooth and held no symbols or statues of heroes or villains. But this ice did not seem plain. For the water that was frozen here did not appear as natural water, and Layulana wondered if this was made from a frozen wave somewhere on the edge of the Forever Night Sea. She felt that now too, that she resided in some chamber on the edge of the universe, hidden in the deep currents of time and space.

She knew not that her conclusion was closer than she would ever know. For the chamber from which she hovered was called Ultuma.And it was one of the many walled towers that are in place at the edges of the Forever Night Sea, which keep the cosmic waves from being spilt into nothingness.

But her thoughts were lost, for before her on a tall column rested a bright item. She came closer to it, floating on the cold air. Rising up she saw that it was a small blade made of pure energy. It glowed like sun beams, causing her to raise a hand to her brow to shade her eyes.

Thus Layulana Whitetree lifted the Light Knife from its stand. Doing so she witnessed a great flash, and the walls of the cavern became transparent and she saw the tower in which she hovered. And within the walls and the Gods' made stone were the Forever Night Sea and all its islands. But, on the other side of the Ultuma was True Nothingness, and her brain exploded in pain trying to comprehend it.

So she turned and left the chamber of one of the Towers of Ultuma. And she did not look back to the True Nothingness, nor did she ever speak of it. For the absence of anything and the lack of the touch of any of the Gods, be they good or evil, is too much for the mortal mind, and contemplation on such matters drives one to madness.

Then Layulana went back to her friends and companions wielding the Light Knife, which she named Gel'Terrin, or in the common tongue of mortals, Star Razor. Her companions hailed her return and were glad for her coming. Then they turned back and retracing their steps they left the chambers of ice and the Temple of Heroes. Thus they came back to the cave that rested on the edge of the Ridge Cliffs in the Realm of the Echoing Thrall.

...

Seeing that the mists dissipate before the beams of Star Razor, they were able to climb the rock's craggy face unhindered. Thus they emerged from the edge of a swollen sea and looked again upon the green glow of the Sphere of Antion. Then did Star ask for Gel'Terrin, and moving forward she brought L'terin before her. And moving to the Sphere, she brought Star Razor forth and used its bright fire to carve forth a doorway. Sparks and flame flew in every direction. The Sphere was strong with the bonds of foul magic and Star Razor screeched and began to wear down as it cut a path through the Witches' Orb.

L'terin protected Star from the green fumes and the sparks of flame from the Light Knife. And soon there was a rounded doorway to the stronghold beyond. Star looked back to her companions and waved them forward. At the gate of hell they took each other's hands and offered up a prayer to Tevindal. With the prayer rising up to the wind, they entered, not knowing if they had been heard.

They entered into the den of witches, and the realm was that of the dead. Trees and plants were twisted into forms of demon design. And they seemed to move as if watching the approach of the violators of their perverted land. The air overheard was shadowed from the sickly green of the Sphere's unholy roof.

The Gathered drew their weapons, but were stopped breathless as they beheld the fortress of the Witches of Alordian. Castle Alordian was a monument of evil wrought from the powers of Devindal. It was crafted not by the hands of mortals or slaves, but of the power of Celantra the Enchantress.

The Gathered moved slowly up the path they were on, not willing to come too close to the trees of death's design. So they came forward to the black monolith with craggy ramparts manned only by specters the eye could not see. As they approached the castle's gate a wail went up, a siren of piercing sound, like a horn blown in some circle of hell.

The Gathered crossed a bridge spanning a pit of bubbling tar to an opening gate. The bridge was lined with statues of mockery. Heroes of Tevindal, the statues showed great fighters of the War of the Gods, who had been lost and never returned. The statues showed these lost fighters in twisted and agonizing pain.

A second wail came from the open gate. It was a blast of power and the Gathered were thrown from their feet, their drawn weapons clattered from their hands as they covered their ears. The blast of the horn faded, but in its wake was another sound. The grinding of stone was all about them, as the statues broke free from their foundations.

The statues came down from their perches. Their movements were frigid, but deadly. They hefted great weapons of heavy stone as they slowly closed in on the fallen heroes that were face down upon the bridge to the Castle Alordian. Voldar was first on his feet, his mace of red stone colliding against the head of a twisted hero of the past.

The head crumbled and broke, taking the stone body down with it. Ogrey, still upon the flat of the bridge rolled and with his gauntlet let loose a ball of concentrated fire. The fireball whipped from his extended hand and caught a stone warrior that was about to slay a stunned Layulana. The demented creature burst, raining down fragmented stone, the heat of which was almost unbearable.

Star stood, her visage was a stark contrast, an angel of light in the depths of a dark hell. She retrieved Sapphire and the starsword roared in blue flame. High above, three sets of eyes saw this and were worried with fear. Three stone statues made their way to her. Their stone weapons raised above their heads to bash the life from the Knight of Tevindal. But, the blue skinned, red haired woman was too quick, and Sapphire possessed too much power.

The starsword erupted in fire as it struck the first of Star's attackers. The explosion of stone sent the other advancing stone warriors off balance. Star swept the legs off one before cutting another in two.

Layulana joined the fray with her arrows. Though they were not strong enough to penetrate stone, her constant barrage was enough to back a stone warrior away from Ogrey. The arrows pushed back the stone monster to the edge of the rail of the bridge where it toppled over and was swallowed by the boiling pit below.

Then did the Gathered win passage of the bridge and to the open gate beyond to the bowels of Castle Alordian. They came forward to the citadel, which they had searched long for, and had passed through many trials to reach. There the evil spirits that lurked in the horrid castle fled, and unknowingly to the Gathered, the Dread Lords that remained went to the deep reaches of Castle Alordian and hid. So they marched forth, unhindered, like Lords of Tevindal.

Their faces were grim now and covered with ash from the battle on the bridge. But, wrath was upon them for the end game was at hand. And they were prepared to meet any doom that awaited them, for the weapons gifted to them from Achaines burned slightly in their hands to crush the darkness that awaited them above. A light was upon them, though none of them knew it.

Up many stairs the Gathered ascended until they came at last to the highest chamber. And their hammering upon the outer door was like a calling of foreseen doom. The call to battle was not answered, for the witches beyond had grown afraid at their coming.

Then Voldar Firesword, Talidon, and pursuer of evildoers, was filled with uncontained wrath. In his anger he bellowed out in torrents of rage, and with his mace of gleaming red stone he bashed down the chamber door, which protected the Witches of Alordian from their enemies. So, it was that he was first to enter the Chamber of Spells, high atop of Castle Alordian. But, it was his rage and the witches' fear that saved him, for their spells that they sent towards him were off the mark and only threw him from his feet rather than destroying him.

Then did Ogrey charge, with offsetting spells flying into the chamber. And Star came forth with a glowing L'terin, which reflected many spells back at their casters. Layulana alone held back, for she was afraid and it paralyzed her.

Voldar stood from where he had fallen. And looking he saw not his red mace, so he drew forth the silver dagger gifted to him from Achaines, and taking injury he moved forward and plunged the blade deep into the breast of Gorga, Witch of Alordian. The witch fell and he did too, and consciousness for him was lost.

Ogrey too fought bravely, casting spells from his magical gauntlet, and sending blasts from the Lunar Staff to blind the witches for Star's approach. So Star came. Her mighty shield was before her, bearing magical powers and a name of special significance. Before her the two remaining witches were forced against the wall of their own castle.

Then L'terin exploded into an unimaginable glow. A star-field of light erupted from the shield and from it came a tune, like a lost song that rode the currents of time. And the voice was beyond that of beauty and whispered like the Voice of God. The words that were spoken are beyond translation, and withering from the awe of power the witches casts spells of great power. But, this harmed none of the Gathered, for the witches forsook themselves in the spell of Tevindal's most wonderful creation, and took their own lives wishing to withstand the voice of the Goldenflower no longer.

Thus the power of the Witches of Alordian became broken until the end of the age of the Torlyne when Rantarok was destined to come. Castle Alordian fell into ruin and the bodies of the witches were tossed into the boiling tar below, but the Gathered knew not that this was a mistake, for they were preserved and tended to by the hidden Dread Lords, the Eleven Nameless that remained. And the Sphere of Antion withered and cracked, and the heroes of the Shores of Twilight were gathered up once again by Mighty Achaines, the God of War and placed on their own paths of destiny that all ended at the Tower of the Dead and its foretold destiny.

It was a place of beauty. The leaves of green shaded the path that led from the River Olarin down to the clearing and the glade. The light of the Towers of Twilight filtered through the foliage here, like beams of transparent gold. The light danced and flickered like the fireflies at night. The Path chose those that found it.

The Path led from the clearing and the glade to the deeper woods. Here the branches curved. They made an arch, a passage that seemed more natural in a cave rather than the trees of the deep woods. Here the light did not penetrate so deep. But, the darkness was not evil, but of the same beauty of the twilight before dawn.

A young elf followed the Path. He let his hands reach out to feel the leaves as he traveled deeper and farther from the river. The dark around him began to recede. What he saw beyond was a golden light; it was like a swaying mist, clinging to the air.

The light enveloped him. He continued on, and as he did the intensity of the light grew. He was nearing the end of the Path. He could feel it. He also felt something else as well.

There was peace here. And at the edge of the Path there would be something greater. The young elf ceased his walking and began to run. He would reach the end of the Path this time. He must.

"You cannot go there," a voice echoed from within his mind. "You know this. You must turn back."

The voice that spoke was resolute. The young elf ran even faster now. He was farther now than he had ever gone. He would make it. He would make it to the end of the Path this time.

There was a new sensation that disrupted the peace the elf felt. It was pain. His mind began to burn. It felt like a dozen fires had sprung up within his head. He began to cry out, but he did not stop his legs from running. A few more steps and he would reach the Path's end, but it was not to be this time. The Path began to fade as he left the Path of the Dream and came back to his chamber in El-Golan, the city of the elves in Mistborne Forest.

"Alean, you must stop this nonsense," the voice said.

Alean looked up from his meditation. He was of fair skin, but his eyes and hair were raven black of the royal line of El-Golan. He was the young prince of the hidden city, but his youth was in perspective of the elves. He was nearly one hundred years old.

Alean looked up to his father, the King of El-Golan from the line of Syr. His father's looks were almost identical to Alean's, but were much more aged. His father returned his look with a stern stare.

"I have told you many times that the end of the Path is a place we cannot go," King Syr said.

"Why father?" Alean asked. "What is it about that place? What is it that makes it so bad for us to go there? I have gotten so close and all I felt was peace. It is a wonderful place. It seems to be a place where no evil exists. I would think that all that can make it there should go," Alean finished.

The King of El-Golan looked at his son for a long moment before responding. "I understand what you saying son," The king started. "But, there are many things about that place that you do not understand."

The king moved closer to his son and sat down on the bed, which was in the center of the bedchamber. The king looked out the nearest window, from which there were several. Outside tall towers mingled with the trees. The spires were of many colors. They were of browns and greens and reds and yellows. The towers were made to be of the colors of the forest so that the city may sit hidden from those outside the elfish realm. A soft breeze fluttered into the room blowing back the curtains like sails.

"The Path of the Dream is a place spoken about in the ancient lore of our people," the king started. "It is said after the War of the Gods, a great elvish warrior named Eladon the Sword, or Syr, who partook in the war, came to the Realm of Corthan to forge for himself a kingdom. He and his followers chose Mistborne Forest and they used their might to build the city of El-Golan."

"I know all of this, father," Alean interrupted with a smile. "As heir to the kingdom, I was given the finest education."

"That is true," King Syr said returning the smile. "But, there is a part of that history that even the great scholars do not know. That is Eladon's discovery of the Path of the Dream. And that discovery is in the consciousness of all of those that are of his bloodline."

Alean looked at his father with confusion. "My teachers do not know about it?" He asked incredulously.

"No," the answer was stated simply.

"Then why is it I cannot travel there?" Alean asked.

"This is why," the king started, "Eladon Syr and his followers discovered the location where they wished to build their new city. That night they slept there under the shade and stars, and Eladon dreamt. This was very important that this happened, for Eladon was also known as the Dreamless, and suffered not from dreams or nightmares that his fighting men experienced. And that night he dreamt of the Path."

"He saw the Path, but he woke before he could follow it to its end. When he arose he left in search of the place he had seen, and he told none of his men about his dream. For days he was gone looking for the Path amongst the woods of the forest. Each night he would dream of the Path and each night he traveled a little bit further upon it."

"It was on the seventh night of his departure from his men that he made it to the end of the Path. There he saw a great mist among the trees as the light of the Towers of Twilight sprinkled its rays of mingled light through the leaves and branches. He was terrified and mystified at the sight. He went into the mist."

"Then he came forth and the mist subsided and before him was a pond shadowed by the edge of hanging trees. And the leaves upon the branches were golden even though it was the height of summer. The waters of the pond were tranquil and glowed with a tint of gold. The sky above, though not marred with clouds, was hazy and dim and was the color of dull yellow."

"Upon the pond two shapes moved, they were small and graceful. When they beheld Eladon the two swam towards him. Eladon was uneasy, but felt no danger from the two shapes. The two came closer, and he beheld that they were swans, with one being black and one being white. They were graceful and beautiful, and he perceived that they held great knowledge."

"Then they reached the edge of the pond before Eladon and they spoke, but not in unison. And their voices were like tones of music, but they complimented each other and were beautiful. Thus, was Eladon's mind filled with images, and he saw things past and things yet to come, and the creatures named themselves the Two Swans of Peace and they were the balance of the forces within Mistborne Forest."

"Then they filled Eladon's mind with great knowledge, from which he used to help his people ever afterwards. The swans also foreshadowed the coming of the end, and showed the Elf Prince his final heir who would represent his bloodline in the last battle of the Gods at Rantarok. Then Eladon made to depart, but he was stayed by the Two Swans of Peace."

"And they spoke to him clearly now with voices of elves. They told him that none other must seek them out before the time is right. To be found by any other save the Chosen One would be folly. For, they said that once they were found again they would be revealed to the agents of Devindal and would be cut down. Then the Chosen One would not be given their strength and would not play in the great deeds that yet need to be done to thwart the spreading shadow."

With that the king finished his tale and looked upon his son. Alean looked at his father with a blank face, but inwardly he was digesting the tale his father had beseeched him. The king smiled and made to stand up and depart, but he slowed as he reached the doorway.

"You see, son, why you cannot go there?" The king asked softly, with a side of steel.

"I do," Alean replied.

"Good. I hear you and your friends are leaving on a little adventure today. Going to tread the waters of Olarin, correct?" The king asked.

Alean smiled, "yes, we leave at the mingling of the lights."

"Enjoy yourselves," his father said. "And go properly equipped, for these are dark times."

"I will father," Alean replied. With that the king left, and when father and son saw each other again the darkness of the times would have indeed deepened.

Departure

Alean ran quickly down the spiraling stairs adorned with red ivy. Above him the tall slender towers of his castle rose, lifting themselves to the light of the Towers of Twilight above the tree line. The tower walls were ancient monuments that were caressed by branches of green and gold leaves with the embodiments of stone, fissured to appear as one with the surrounding tree. They were a masterpiece.

He came quickly to the bottom and stepped out onto the soft cover of dirt and grass. A squire greeted him and stood ready with his master's horse. Alean nodded at the squire and sent him away. Climbing on the mare's back, Alean fixed his sword belt, which held the sheathed Telkist, the ancient sword of his ancestor borne during the War of the Gods.

The blade was of Falina make and said to carry great powers when wielded in battle. Alean knew not if that was true since he had never seen true combat. He drew the blade out an inch, admiring its golden gleam. He sheathed the sword and with a quick kick to his horse sped down the path to the gate of his castle where he knew his friends would be awaiting him.

Alean reached his friends and they sat upon their own horses, speaking to each other in the high language. They were laughing merrily and dressed in fine clothes too extravagant for adventuring folk. All four of the riders turned and hailed the prince as they saw him arrive. Alean raised his hand to his head in a mock military salute. His friends laughed ever harder.

"My friends," Alean said as he pulled up reign next to them. "We have a long ride to the river from here, so we should start without any delay."

"The river is not far at all," Tharic Ulirr said in confusion.

His blonde hair was long and pulled back revealing his clear elf features. His eyes were of the brightest blue, gleaming in the light. He wore a tunic of strong leather dyed with greens and red. It had metal studs spaced evenly to give better protection against the slash of a blade. He wore boots as black as midnight that went nearly to the knee. His dark brown riding pants were tucked deeply into them.

"You are right, Tharic. It is not far, but the way you ride it will take us nearly half the day," Alean said with a huge smile breaking his face. The elves about him erupted again in laughter, with Tharic laughing the loudest.

"Let us be going then," Illion Redlyne said shaking his head. His hair was as red as a ruby and his eyes were pale silver. Though similarly dressed as Tharic and his companions, Illion chose a weapon not usually handled by an elf. And next to him hung a mighty flail, crafted long ago for the Goblin Wars.

The laughter did not die completely, but it was quieted. Then the elves called to the gate master and the path was opened to them. Then riding from El-Golan they entered the wilderness of Mistborne Forest. Moving forth from the path at the city-castle's gate they wove down to the river cloaked in the essence of song.

Dear Ellina of the Silver Spire

Lifting my heart so ever higher

I sing a song that says to you

That my heart will always be true

As I move further down the field

I promise that my sword shall never yield

Until the time the war is won

And we at last are together as one

As the song came to an end, Gedlean Farsighted bowed in his harness. The other four elves clapped and whistled. Voices then clamored up for another song or tale. Shelt Borgai spun in each of his hands a dagger, and when they stopped they were pointing at Alean indicating that it was now his turn. The others approved and raised their voices chanting his name.

"Ok, ok." Alean laughed going quiet for a moment thinking of what he was going to do. His friends went quiet in anticipation. "I know," he said. "I will tell the tale of Alorkun Bailera." Then there was silence, for Alean was a master storyteller.

...

Long ago, in the land of Sanistair that lies far to the north and due east, there were a people that have since left the world. And they were called the Ranzers, and they were a people unlike to all others. For their likening was that of tigers, though they stood on two feet and had hands to carry tools from which they crafted much excellent work and they spoke as we do.

Though they held a mighty intellect, they were but a simple people. And simply did they live in the Grasslands that lie in the northwest of their land. They slept in ornate tents or under the glowing blue shade of the stars. The bitter cold of the winter months affected them little, for their fur was thick and the spark of life within their breast was strong.

But, though they were simple and followed only their own affairs, they had many enemies. For, they were seen as creatures of evil to some of the other residents of the land because of their form and wildness. Due to this, they were often at war, but only to defend what was theirs, which others often tried to take.

So, the Ranzers became craftsmen of the highest caliber. They forged powerful weapons of strong steel, and the greatest of these weapons held powers of flame, frost, and storm. Though their hides were thick like natural leather, they forged too armor of great resistance. And these plates of protection served other purposes as well, for they were in fashions that were meant to invoke fear to those that opposed them.

Of the tribe of Ranzers there was a faction, which was a warrior class. These Ranzers became known as Berserkers, and their only duty was the protection of the tribe. Every day they trained for battle, and they learned techniques to channel energy to enhance their strength and to improve their prowess in combat. These warriors learned also to expel fear and to witness them in war was to watch hell being unleashed. For though they were not numerous, they could decimate foes with ten times their number.

During the time of Druwren Starfallen is when this tale takes place. While history focuses on the rise of the Isle of the Sea Towers and the fall of Merlaa, we forget that all the lands of Corthan were falling under the shadow of the storm of Myr. Sanistair was no different, and while Scourge was at the court of Druwren Silverstar, other sinister agents came to the Tower of the Circling Heavens.

Thus came Olastulan and Gourr, disciples of Scourge from the Dungeons of Mashutol. The emissaries of evil came under the protection of a Black Fleet full of dark minions, which they left on the sandy shores of the sea. And they came under the false pretense of unification and peace, under a world ruled by the dark scepter of Myr.

It is told that the emissaries stayed not long in council with the High Lords of the Tower of the Circling Heavens, for they proved their point quickly, and those lords did not wish for war. Then the knees of the High Lords were bent and the west of the land of Sanistair was laid bared and unprotected to the shadow that was rising in the world.

Then did the disciples of Scourge quickly secure their new holdings, and leaving a rear guard to protect their new land the Black Fleet sailed east to the far side of Sanistair to take the kingdom that lay there. Olastulan took up his power in the Tower of the Circling Heavens, and those High Lords that had sworn their allegiance he betrayed, and they were put to death. The news of murder of the High Lords escaped and came forth quickly to the Tower Keep of Sanistair. This dreadful news reached the ears of the lords there before the Black Fleet arrived with its devilish emissary, Gourr.

The east prepared for war. When the Black Fleet landed it looked upon lines of men with sharp steel. Then there was battle, for the Black Fleet let loose its horde of foulness and blades met and were splintered while many were slain. But, those monsters that had come with the tide of the sea were strong and many. They surged forward and gained the beachhead and the lines of Sanistair were broken and the army fell back to the tower where they were besieged.

The strength in the west was subdued. They could not come to the aid of those that made war in the east. Instead they sat and brooded in dark thought for they were now slaves to the Enemy.

Hope came from one thought. For Ralsoth, Lord of Sanistair, remembered the Ranzers. Knowing that his people had fought many wars against the tiger people he hoped that such differences would be put aside and a common foe would unite them. Lord Ralsoth called for a messenger to go forth to the Grasslands to plead for aid.

The messenger slipped out of the tower in the dark of night without even the pale light of the moon to guide him. For the moon was hidden from the dark smoke from the fires of war, and the stars had too vanished from sight. The messenger made his way, but he was followed, for the Enemy was cunning and was used to seeing in the darkness.

The messenger made his way to the Grasslands and met with the Queen of the Ranzers, a Tigeress named Sylara. There she rejected aid to the messenger and declared to him to leave her lands, because the bloodshed between their peoples had been much and often, and she cared not for the evils of the world as long as her people were left to rule themselves. Then the messenger left, and he was crestfallen, and through his grief he did not notice the beast that had tracked him and he was waylaid and slain. The beast took this knowledge of the Ranzers existence and swiftly went to the Tower of the Circling Heavens to inform Olastulan, that they may be subjugated under his cruel fist.

The Dark Servant of the tower then brooded as he listened to all that the beast told of the meeting of the messenger and the Queen. In his thought he perceived that the Ranzers would not unite with them if they had rejected an alliance with those of Sanistair. So he drew plans of their fall and knew he had not the strength of arms to overtake them, for they had been originally overlooked, and the strength of their evil force now was at war in the east. Rather, he planned to ensnare them in another fashion.

It was then that Olastulan sent a band of his best troops and they fell upon Queen Sylara as she walked alone with her thoughts late one night far from the comfort of the tents of the Ranzers. And taking her they sent an emissary to her tribe to demand that they submit or the safety of their queen would be placed in high jeopardy. But this threat and capture of the queen was not taken lightly. For there was a great roar of anger as the Warlord of the Berserkers came forward, and he was the greatest warrior of the Ranzers and the lover of the queen.

Then the other Ranzers urged caution, but the Berserker did not listen. For his ears were only for the speech of his love and queen, and he moved forward to the messenger of evil. Then the Ranzer named himself Alorkun Bailera, and his fur was blue and striped in gray. He wore a helm of violet and from its top there was a curved upward blade, like the slender moon turned on its axis. And he wore thick plated armor that was the color of the stormy sea and the breastplate was like sharp teeth of a gaping maw. At his side was a long sheathed sword of great power, but that blade he did not draw. With his great teeth and claws he slew the messenger of Olastulan and roared in his terrible rage.

He told his people to prepare for war. But he urged them to wait for his coming. For he alone would go to the Tower of the Circling Heavens and rescue Queen Sylara or die in the attempt. The call to the Berserkers went out and they came to their Warlord in full array of battle for war. Their weapons they kept unsheathed and many of them glowed with powers of flame and storm.

Then Alorkun Bailera left the encampment under the cover of darkness. He sped across the Grasslands, south to the land that lies between the towns of Bromsford and Ivy Dale. There he passed without notice, for he was swift and cunning, and trained in the arts of silent passage. By the dawn of the following morning he could see the Tower of the Circling Heavens in the distance, aglow from the early rays from the Tower of Sunrise.

Alorkun slowed his haste and came forth with great caution. For he feared that enemy patrols would be many, and though he wished to fall upon the enemy, he desired more for secrecy to rescue his imprisoned love. He moved forth slowly across the land for there was not much room to hide, and he worried that the master in the captured tower would be wondering why he has not yet heard a report from his emissary.

In the tower the news was heard that the messenger had not returned. Olastulan boiled in his wrath and looked upon the Tigress and swore the demise of her people. But, in her cage Queen Sylara did not falter into fear, and looked sternly onto her captor, but did not speak. Olastulan did not know how to read her and he made preparations to defend his tower.

Then did the Ranzers make battle before the fields of Bromsford and Ivy Dale. Their number was small compared to the minions of evil arrayed against them. But, the Ranzers were mighty and as they charged they let loose a roar that was heard far to the south in Olastulan's captive tower. Olastulan heard the mighty battle cry and went to the top of his tower and beheld the site. Terror filled his breast, and though he could see the battle from such a distance it was small and he knew not what side held yet the upper hand.

But, it was under this guile and trickery of war that Alorkun Bailera came to the tower alone. It was in that hour before the gate of the Tower of the Circling Heavens that he drew his sword. The blade crackled like a thunderstorm and the air about it grew dark from the malice and anger that erupted from it. And from the steel, electric charges of burning green flame danced upon the weapon's nakedness and it and Alorkun hungered for blood.

Then did Alorkun come upon the gates and the guards that were posted there were slain and their corpses strewn about in bloody ruin. Those within beheld his fury and made to close the great door against him, but Alorkun sped through the closing cracks and his sword hummed as it descended, killing what remained of the initial guard. Then a blast of a horn rose up, and it was a sound of doom echoing off the stone of the mighty citadel. All that heard it quailed and fell holding their ears against the terrible sound. Three times the horn sounded and after the last came a snarl that rumbled and pierced.

In that moment Alorkun Bailera announced to all within the tower that he had come and showed no fear to those that would assemble against him. Putting away his horn he made to the nearest stair that now crawled with orcs and trolls and other foul beasts from Gorthar's Abyss. He met them all as they surged towards him. The Warlord's blade was swift and each stroke crackled and broke like rolling thunder as he swept aside his opponents sending them to the eternal clutches of the Void.

Bloodlust was upon him, the uncontrollable rage of a Berserker. None could withstand his wrath as he climbed higher and higher around the stair that wrapped itself about the tower. Blood began to pour down the steps like a mountain stream. Those that met his blade died in a fiery fury, others leapt from the tower, finding the deadly fall to be less horrible than the invader's sword.

Then did Alorkun come to the top of the tower. The air that whipped there was cool and crisp and it carried the eerie silence of death. Bound and lying on her side was Queen Sylara, Alorkun's true love. And there above her stood Olastulan, cloaked in dark shrouds.

Then did Olastulan speak, and his voice was heavy and thick as if the vastness of the oceans were between them. The words were those of evil enchantments, forged long in the horrid blackness of the Dungeons of Mashutol and the air about them grew dark and stank of death. But, Alorkun was not dismayed by the power and fiendishness of his enemy, and the Ranzer moved ever slowly forward brandishing his deadly blade. Olastulan stood back and in a fluid motion whipped forth the cloak that concealed his wickedness and behold! His true horror was at last revealed and the cruelty of the horrid disciple of Scourge had its face shone.

There before Alorkun stood not the fair and handsome man that ensnared high courts of kings and queens, rather a beast that had wriggled itself up from the cracks of the Abyss. Its flesh was pink and pulpy, like that of a humanoid squid. Its eyes were round black orbs of evil and were webbed like those of spiders. Its mouth was a gaping hole of putrid fangs that hissed and moaned like a devilish reptile. Its muscles rippled and bulged as it flexed them and its hands had fingers like great claws or daggers. But, its true weapons were the two long whip-like tentacles that emerged from its back and at the tip of each was a faceted blade.

The wizard-demon crouched and its tentacles rose up behind him. The tentacles whipped forth one after the other with blinding speed. Alorkun was flung back, and Olastulan howled, but the Ranzer was not dismayed. The demon from Mashutol came on, with his tentacles moving feverishly, striking gaping wounds onto his mighty opponent.

But, Alorkun Bailera let his enemy advance. The Warlord studied the movement of his foe and learned him quickly. Then did Alorkun come forth, and Olastulan laughed wicked laughter. Tentacles struck forth and Alorkun moved his great blade to them.

But, the tentacles were strong like chains of iron and they grappled the mighty sword. Great strength did Olastulan possess and he tightened his grip about the sword and attempted to pull it free. But, Alorkun Bailera was of greater strength and in a berserker rage, seeing his love wounded upon the ground.

Little did the demon emissary from the Dungeons of Mashutol know about the craftsmanship of the Ranzers. The Warlord from the Grasslands bellowed a mighty triumph, and his sword was set ablaze with green flame. The fires that set forth were as hot as great furnaces, and the pain the demon felt was horrible. Thus, the tentacles burnt and fell to ash like cinders. Then Alorkun Bailera came forward and slew the beast with one fell stroke.

Alorkun took no heed for his fallen enemy, and sheathing his great sword he went to his love that lay crumpled on the ground. The mighty Berserker picked the Tigeress up and held her into his arms. But, alas! Sylara, Queen of the Ranzers had already been slain. And the woe in Alorkun's heart was like bitter frost.

With the defeat of the Emissary of Devindal at the Tower of the Circling Heavens, the Ranzer forces and the peoples of Bromsford and Ivy Dale struck east and helped push the Black Fleet from the shores of Sanistair. As for Alorkun Bailera, it is believed that he carried his love to a hidden tomb and buried her. Then through great sorrow he forsook the hold on his life and passed from this world. It is told that he was one of the first to be welcomed by Druwren Starfallen into the Tower of the Dead and will fight again at Rantarok.

...

With that Alean Syr finished his tale of the tragedy of Alorkun Bailera. His friends nodded in appreciation, but were contained with their own thoughts of the tale of love and heroic battle. The horses seemed loud in the elves' silence. Their hooves crashed the undergrowth and cracked the fallen leaves.

The woods cleared and with it came a crisp breeze that blew the elves' hair back. The leaves rustled and sounded like gentle chimes, while the chorus of flowing water played its tune to the song of the forest. The elves had reached the River Olarin.

"My friends, I believe our boats should be somewhere around here," Alean said as he dismounted his horse. He tethered the beast to a tree then went to the river's edge. He pushed back some green foliage that was showing hints of red at its ends, and small vessels of green and brown were revealed.

The others dismounted as well. Illion Redlyne went over to Alean to assist him in the preparations of the boats, while Tharic and Gedlean tied up the horses. When the horses had been tied the others returned to the water's edge to see three small vessels that had been removed from a hiding spot.

Tharic looked at the river's water; it was clear and blue. It seemed calm on this day. Tharic felt that the voyage would be relaxing and good for his friend, the prince, who had long been burdened by duty and studies. Tharic held the first vessel sturdy as he invited Alean to climb in first.

"Don't shake the boat when I try to get in," Alean said to his friends' chuckles. Laughter was cut short.

In the depths of the forest, through the blowing leaves and serene elegance of the trees, came a disruption to the peaceful landscape. The birds that sang were silenced and the rippling of the water was drowned out. The elves turned to each other alert and alarmed. Alean paused, putting his foot in the boat and straightened, and drew Telkist instead.

A loud, solitary single shriek had gone up. The wail was long and piercing and full of horror and torment. The cry of terror echoed strangely, as if it were moving away from where it had started. It soon was soon cut off, as if a hand or a gag had silenced it. What troubled the elves mostly about the cry was that it had come from a woman.

"It came from our side of the river," Shelt said, moving up to Alean's side.

All looked to the prince. He was their leader and friend. They would follow his lead without question. Alean Syr stood deep in dark thought, his sword shown bright in his hand. His gaze was intently stationed on the edge of the bent bows of the woods. He looked to his fellows, and noticed their hands upon the hilts of their weapons. They were willing and ready.

"We go," Alean said. His voice was low and resolute. "Take only what you need, and leave the horses, for we will be trampling through the brush where there are no paths."

With that, Alean started with a quick trot into the trees and faded from sight. The four other elves followed. Limbs of branches swayed from their movement, whipping back to sting those that passed inattentively behind. Though, elves can move silently, these elves opted for speed rather than caution.

Soon, they were at full sprint through the tall bows of Mistborne Forest, the light from Towers of Twilight twinkling through the shaded canopy above. The elves moved into formation with Alean at point and with two elves fanned out from him on each side. They continued in the direction of the woman's scream, but knew not where she was.

Alean thought about calling out to her. The thought worried him, for if she was being held captive then the bandits that had taken her could prepare their options. This line of thought troubled him, but he needed to do something or they may not find the woman in time to do her aid.

It appeared to Alean that he would have to call out to her. This made the elf distraught in his decision, but he would deal with the consequences. He opened his mouth to call to the distressed woman, but his cry was not needed. The woman screamed again.

She was closer. The sound of her voice allowed the now alert elves to hone in on her location. They knew these woods well, better than any trespasser or traveler that would have come into these parts of the gentle forest. All of them had played and hunted in these woods for nearly a century. They would be upon the woman in mere moments.

Illion crept up to Alean's side. "There is a clearing where the scream came from, my lord," he said, properly addressing his friend now that they were in a possible combat situation. "We should fan out and surround the clearing, if there are more numbers than us then we may appear more numerous than we are."

"Good, tell the others," Alean informed him without looking back. Illion fell back and corresponded the plan to the other elves. The other elves moved out in unison. Going now in different directions, to set up their perimeter in the possible hostile situation. Alean ran on and came to the edge of the clearing. He stopped and peered through the branches.

Alean became startled. The clearing was bright with light from the Towershine. Tall grasses and wild flowers were scattered about the circular area. But, there was no one there.

Alean moved out into the clearing. The frustration was clear upon his wrinkled bow. The woman's second cry had come from this point, and he did not believe there would have been enough time for her to be moved.

The prince motioned to the other elves that he knew were hidden in their positions to come out. They emerged from their spots of concealment stealthily, weapons ready. But, it soon became apparent that weapons were not needed in the grove.

Tharic trotted up to Alean with a look of confusion starched upon his face. "My lord," he said. "I do not understand. The cry came from here."

"I know," Alean said thoughtfully. "It would be one thing for one elf to misjudge the location of the scream, but not five. Our hearing is too good, too precise, and we know these woods better than anyone else."

"What do we," Tharic was not able to finish his sentence.

The cry rose up a third and final time. It left the elves bewildered and clinging to their weapons. Their eyes became sharp and narrow and all focused on the same place, the center of the clearing. The cry for help had come from the clearing, but it had come from underground.

Both Tharic and Alean had their bright swords before them as they advanced. Gedlean moved in opposite of them with an arrow notched. Shelt had a sharp dagger in each hand. Illion twirled his flail slowly in preparation.

They all met at the center of the clearing. Moving before his lord, Tharic smoothed back the wild grass and flowers. Four of the elves had gathered closely together, while Gedlean hung back and nervously eyed the woods around them. Shelt was first to gasp as he understood what was revealed to them.

"A stair," Shelt said incredulously. He looked at Illion who gave him a mirrored look of confusion.

"A thousand times I have been this field, but never had I seen this," Tharic said.

"Nor I," added Alean. The prince sheathed his sword and moved around to the back of Tharic, who had grabbed his pack from his horse before they had left. Opening the pack, Alean searched frantically. He soon found what he desired and brought out two unlit torches.

The others had followed their lord's lead and sheathed their own weapons as Alean found the torches. The prince tossed a torch to Shelt and one to Illion. Both caught the torches, but looked at them in confusion.

Alean still stood behind Tharic as the elf whispered to his friend. "My lord, you cannot be serious," Tharic turned and looked his friend in the eyes. "We cannot go in there. We should go back and report this. A patrol will be sent out to investigate."

"No time," Alean curtly responded. "Light the torches, Tharic." Alean stuffed flint and tinder into the elf's hands.

"My lord, this is madness," Tharic began. But he flinched hard, for far below the woman cried out again. Her voice echoed off the walls of the dungeon below and came eerily to the elves above. Tharic bit his lip and looked at Alean.

Alean stared hard at his loyal companion. He knew that Tharic thought only for his prince's safety, and that his desire to go back had nothing to do with cowardice. But, Alean would not allow his friend to undercut his command in a situation like this. Alean was the Prince of El-Golan, and his word was law.

Tharic, seeing all these things pass through the eyes of his most beloved friend, finally nodded his agreement. He turned without a word and got to work lighting the torches that Shelt and Illion now carried. It did not take long, and soon the torches were ablaze with hot red light.

"I am the captain," Alean told his men. "I will lead. Illion will follow me with his torch to light the way. Tharic, you and your sword will be in the middle."

"My lord, let me lead and you take the middle," Tharic protested.

Alean talked over his request. "Tharic, you will take middle." Alean said, looking at his friend with a tinge of anger in his eyes. Shelt, you will follow Tharic. Gedlean you will come last and cover our rear with your bow. Does everyone understand?"

All nodded in agreement. "Good," Alean said. "Draw your weapons," Alean said as Telkist slid soundlessly from its scabbard. "Let's rescue a maiden."

The Dark Cave of Mistborne Forest

They moved one by one down the stone stairs that led under the clearing to a chamber below. Their boots tapped on the crude steps sending soft sounds into the gloom. The light from the torches sent tall shadows that sprawled out onto the retaining walls. Sparks and cinders drifted and fell from the torches and then faded into oblivion.

The air cooled as they descended. No light or heat that was natural penetrated this carved out section of earth. There was a heavy smell of mold and damp earth, and a fouler tint of dung. Alean's boots stopped their clacking and gave off a sound of deeper thuds. He had reached the bottom.

Alean moved forward with Telkist held ready before him. The elf did not know what he would find in the underground darkness, but the thought both terrified and exhilarated him. Light from Illion's torch flooded out into the unlit chamber. Alean felt the heat from the fiery brand as Illion swept out to Alean's right, giving him room to use his flail, if needed. Alean felt the others spreading out behind them as they entered the chamber. All were prepared for action.

Nothing stirred within the chamber. It was empty. It appeared that the chamber they were in had been hastily made. It was small and narrow, with the floor being the tight compacted earth. Stones and logs made up the walls to strengthen the area from collapse.

On the far side of the chamber adjacent to them was an opening that led into a dark tunnel. Alean moved slowly to the door with his men following him. His heart raced with excitement, feeling that all of his years had led up to this moment somehow. He thought of his father and his ancestor Eladon. In his mind he was traversing the darkness of the Path of the Dream.

Alean moved into the tunnel and the elves were forced to continue onward in single file. The light that gleamed out from the embers of the torch showed that the tunnel went about twenty-five feet before them, and then angled off to the right. Moving to the end of the tunnel they could see that the tunnel turned due to large roots from an ancient tree from up above.

The tunnel twisted shortly before placing them back on their present course. It stayed that way briefly, and then shifted to the left and moved off into the darkness. At first they were unable to tell how far the tunnel ran, for the light would not completely illuminate their path. But they pushed on, determined not to let fear overtake them.

They walked the dark tunnel that was dank in many places. Small amounts of water had collected in spots, but none could decide the reason, nor did they dwell on it too long. There were too many mysteries here. Why were these paths beneath Mistborne Forest? Who had made them? What ill would be revealed before the journey's end?

The path took another left, and a minute later another left and very quickly left again. The group made its way, and quickly the dirt floor became covered with stone. The walls here were also constructed with better craftsmanship, not appearing as a quick makeshift bunker.

"Someone's been here for a while," Alean heard drift up from Shelt. "And it looks like they mean to stay," responded Tharic. Alean stopped and turned to motion for silence. But, he thought their voices did not really matter much, when the lights of the torches boldly announced their presence.

They soon came to their first decision in the underground cave hidden near their home in Mistborne Forest. The path split in two different directions, giving them the option to continue their current path or to turn right. Alean motioned the torchbearers forward that the light could better demonstrate what lay upon each path.

The current path led deep into unknown darkness, with the tunnel stretching far out of the radiance of the burning light. The illumination that danced to the right showed a short path that moved off into a chamber. Alean pointed his hand to indicate they would move first into the chamber. The elves took up their rank and file once again and entered the chamber.

The chamber was not constructed any differently than the tunnel was. It was open and daft, allowing the men not to be crunched up against the walls as if it were closing in on them. They spread out, looking into the small room. It was empty of life, and for the most part empty of anything else, save for one distinction. In the center of the small outcropping was a statue.

"Bring the light up here," Alean said. The request was unneeded. All of the elves came crowding forward to try to gain a glimpse of what they might face in these desolate halls. Tharic was the first to recognize the semblance that was beat into the crude iron. He spat on it.

"Curse Myr and all his Abyss spawned minions!" Gedlean said in anger.

The Prince of Devindal stood before them in iron-mended imperfections. The ancient lord of the Isle of the Sea Towers stood proudly with thick plated armor and a massive sword held at its side. At the statue's base, smaller figures had been placed, shown in the state of worship. Illion took an involuntary step back, letting his torchlight cast shows upon the idol of worship of the enemy.

"What does this mean?" Shelt asked. His eyes darted back and forth to his companions, waiting for one of them to give him a non-threatening explanation. None gave him that comfort and he stood reeling from his own dark thoughts that consumed him. Tharic and Illion shared a long glance, but words faltered at their lips.

"It means the enemy stirs," said Alean. "We must move on," Alean turned and headed back into the shadows of the tunnel. The others quickly made to follow. But, several glances made their way back into the fading light, watching the statue dim into nothingness.

They moved silently, brooding in their own dark thoughts down the corridor. All seemed more on edge. It had been easy to believe that bandits that had taken refuge in the area had dug out the cave. But, bandits have never been accused of worship of the Prince of Devindal. No one found himself willing to tread paths that dark, no matter how far they might have fallen from the roads of light.

Moving onward, always creeping with flickering glow, the elves came to their second crossroads. The choice here seemed easier than the last, though the previous provided no issues of tracking the elusive prey. A wooden door stood slightly ajar to the left, while the tunnel turned to the right.

Tharic pushed his way forward with his brandished sword to stand at his lord's side. Alean gave his friend a stern glance, but Tharic rebuked it saying, "If they are in there, then they are aware of our presence." Tharic pointed his finger at the door, indicating that the light from their torches had already leaked into the room.

Alean took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his sword. He looked to Tharic, who still eyed him. Alean nodded, and Tharic raised his weapon into a fighting position. "Let me go first, my lord," Tharic requested.

This time, Alean obliged. He knew Tharic was right. Tharic was the better swordsman. But, Alean was the heir of El-Golan, and should not needlessly put himself in danger. Too late, he thought, looking quickly to his surroundings. Alean spared a quick glance at the rest of his men. They were ready.

Alean tapped Tharic on the shoulder, setting him into motion. Tharic moved suddenly forward, his right foot coming out to kick the door in. There was a loud boom as the wood gave away to the force of the blow. Tharic moved forward into the chamber prepared to deal death at the slightest movement.

The others expected cries of battle, but besides the booming of the door there was no noise. The light of the torches followed Tharic and Alean as he too entered the room. The light quickly revealed figures in the chamber, but none that moved. Three bodies lay slumped and unmoving on the ground.

All had entered with their weapons ready, but they were not needed. Shelt quickly went to the bodies, stooping low to examine them. The others looked about the room. It seemed ordinary, shelves had been fashioned to the back walls and basic supplies were kept there. This was a storage room.

"All are human, and they are all dead," Shelt announced. The other elves had expected as much. "But, a woman is not among them."

Tharic posted himself at the door as a guard as the others came forward to look at the bodies. It was easy to figure out the cause of death. The marks of death through combat were very evident. A sword stroke had slain one of the three men, while it appeared arrows had taken the lives of the others. Broken shafts, that had been snapped off by the perpetrators were lodged deep into the stiffening bodies.

"They haven't been dead all that long," said Shelt. "Maybe an hour tops."

Gedlean came close to Alean and said, "My lord, perhaps it would be wise to leave this place and bring back more soldiers. We do not know what we will face down here, and you should not be placed in this danger as heir of the Kingdom of Mistborne Forest."

"No, Gedlean," Alean responded. "The woman that we heard is still down here somewhere. We will not abandon her to the torment of her captors."

"Very well," said Gedlean, not hiding his displeasure. "Then we should be moving before her captors start using her for sport."

That settled it. They left the dead. Nothing could harm them any further, and returned to the passageway. They moved down the passage another twenty feet before it moved off to their left.

As the party turned, they heard the woman scream again. This time she was very near and they heard, mingled with her scream, grunts and laughter. The voices were muted and hushed through the walls and the distance of the tunnel, but all the elves were able to make out the dialect of the accents of the voices.

"Goblins!" Illion hissed through clenched teeth. "Oh, this is ill news!"

"My lord?" Tharic said, looking back at Alean.

Alean looked lost in tormented thought. How could goblins be here? They were under the Mistborne, the holy land of the elves. Goblins did not come here, for they greatly feared the forest and their ancient elven enemies. Besides, the only goblins on the continent of Ariwrath were far to the north in the Goblin Downs between the Mountains of Might and the Forest of the Spider King.

Reason fled from Alean's mind. He forsook safety of his life and those of his men. Bloodlust shot through him. Anger pulsated for the taking of the human woman, the slaying of the men in the chamber behind, and for defiling the sacred soil of Mistborne Forest.

Alean's furious eyes looked at his men. There he saw his own anger, his own outrage reflected. Reason had left the thoughts of all of them. They would proceed onward and slay their enemies. They would become heroes of song and legend.

They rushed on now. The light they tried not to hide. The sounds of their footsteps they tried not to conceal. A closed door loomed up ahead. It would fall open to their wrath.

The noises beyond the closed door intensified. The woman was being used for sport in the most heinous of fashions. Alean came forth and kicked open the door and charged into the opening beyond. His men were on his heels.

Torches that lined the walls already lit the chamber. Recognizing this the elves dropped their own sources of light and concentrated on slaying the enemy. The goblins were twice the number of attacking elves, but they were caught unaware and off guard. Telkist and the blade of Tharic flashed side by side. Black blood flowed.

The goblins tried to flee to an open gaping entrance to a cave that sloped downwards at the back of the chamber. Not many made it. For the wrath of the elves was great and terrible. The goblins had either been slain or scattered.

Alean helped the woman to her feet. Her clothes had been torn and tattered. She tried keeping her decency the best she could. Her reddish hair was tangled and she was covered in red and black blood. It was quickly established, that even though she had been treated to many horrors, she was essentially not harmed.

The elves gave a better look to the chamber they stood in and the direction that the fleeing goblins had gone. The stone outfitting of the tunnels gave away to natural rock as the chamber sloped and widened. A tall natural looking arch of rock and stone curved, and beyond was blackness. The elves looked upon an opening to the Underworld.

"The Halls of Gorthar right under our very beds," Tharic breathed.

Alean only glanced at the entrance before turning his attention back to the woman. "Please, lady, do not think me rash and incapable of empathy, but I would have your tale quickly."

The woman nodded. Alean could clearly see that she was made of sterner stuff than a woman that had lived a soft life. Her eyes were fierce and her body lithe and strong. Her hands appeared calloused, indicating that she was familiar with the use of martial weapons.

"My companions and I were waylaid by the goblins," she started. She shook her head, as if forgetting her manners even in this trying moment. "Forgive me, thank you all, I am Autumn Fable," she said introducing herself. She wasted no more time on pleasantries, "As I said, my companions and I were attacked by goblins as we rested on the river's edge. We had moved away from our vessel to eat and rest in the day's warmth. Arrows rained down on us. Two of my friends were struck as goblins came out of the thicket. My other companion drew his sword to do battle with the goblins, but they cut him down. I was grabbed and taken before I could reach my sword. I can only believe that my friends are dead."

"They are my lady," Alean said sadly.

She nodded. She was not surprised. Sorrow stayed from her face. It was apparent death was nothing new to her.

"I can tell you, Master Elf, that I have traveled many parts of Ariwrath. These goblins hail from the Goblin Downs."

"Can it mean coming war, my lord?" Illion asked Alean.

"I can see no other meaning," he responded. "But, we have tarried too long. We should be leaving now!"

As if in answer, a great booming came from the dark cave beyond. It was not the sound of a drum, but of something heavy striking the ground. The sound struck again and again as if in rhythm.

"Footsteps," said Tharic through clenched teeth. "My lord, we must flee!"

But, Alean and several of the others looked on, transfixed. At that moment there was a charge of several goblins from the darkness. Gedlean wasted no time and sent arrow after arrow into the ranks. More goblins gathered, but they halted at the edge of the darkness, and stood still and defiant, amidst the rain of Gedlean's arrows.

The booming continued and the goblins moved clearing a path for something large to move up beside them. Several of the goblins trembled visibly. Emerging from the deep shadow was a mouth standing nearly ten feet above the ground. It was pale and brown, and it opened revealing two great racks of teeth.

A purple tongue lolled back and forth as if anticipating a quench to its hunger. The elves stood spellbound, weapons before them like pinpricks. Autumn too had joined them, a black goblin blade she had picked up waving in her trembling fingers. The goblins, though mired in fear, began to jeer at their petrified enemies.

It was Gedlean who broke the spell. "Oh foul beast of the Abyss, die!" An arrow streaked from his bow and pierced the swollen lagging tongue of the monster. The beast raised its head and howled in fury. Its teeth grated and gnashed together, causing the goblins to throw themselves to the ground and cover their ears. Dirt and loose rock rained from the high ceiling.

Through eyes unseen to the elves, the beast saw the conspirator of its pain. A great muscled tentacle shot forth from the darkness. On the pad at the tentacle's end was a row of sharp spikes. The tentacle impaled Gedlean, and the elf cried out in pain. Lifting up the elf it brought Gedlean back to its main body.

The elves stood silent in shock as they watched their friend writhing in pain at the end of the tentacle. The pain was short lived. Gedlean's friends watched in unimagined horror as the tentacle's end slowly came forward to the great mouth. Gedlean screamed out in dismay as the descent continued.

The rows of the teeth opened and Gedlean was placed on the purple tongue. The spikes in the tentacle retracted and the limb moved away. Gedlean tried desperately to roll from the monster's mouth. But, the spawn of hell was quicker.

The jaws shut tight like a trap and grated. There was a short cry of unfathomable pain. Then the howl was abruptly cut off and the monster belched as it swallowed. Blood and torn ragged flesh frothed forth on its tight lips. The creature's teeth curved upward. It smiled at those that had stood witness to their friend's death.

Nothing held the elves and the rescued woman rooted to the room any longer. They all turned as one in their madness and looked for the doorway to escape. Goblins charged at their fleeing quarry. The beast was quicker than all the others present. Three massive tentacles struck forth. One clanged hard against the ground nearly missing Autumn. The other two took Illion and Shelt lifting them off the ground to take them to the same fate as Gedlean.

There was nothing the others could do. Alean, Tharic, and Autumn made it to the doorway and fled through it to the tunnel beyond. The goblins were pouring after them in numbers unknown. They ran at full haste, but could not run fast enough to escape the death cries of Illion and Shelt.

The three of them sped through the tunnel. The howl of the goblins came from behind them. The enemy was gaining. Alean and his companions were moving through the darkness, without their torches, which had been left behind in the chamber. They had had no time to pick them up on their way to escape.

The only light that guided them now came from behind them. Many of the goblins held torches and it provided some assistance to the two elves and the woman. But, the more light that was granted to them meant the closer the goblins were gaining on them. They ran on.

They made it finally to the first chamber that the long staircase down from the surface had deposited them. They ascended the steps two at a time. They could hear the goblins flooding into the chamber below. Reaching the top, the light blinded them momentarily, but they did not slow.

It was only a moment before he realized that Tharic did not run at his and the woman's side. Tharic stood parched over the opening to the Underworld. His sword flashed and rang as he slew the goblins that tried to surface.

"Tharic!" Alean yelled his stride faltering.

"Run, my lord!" Tharic roared. "I will hold them while I can. You must reach El-Golan and report what has befallen!"

Tharic spoke no more to his friend. Alean turned and fled. Tharic would surely fall, but he would spend his life trying to allow Alean to get back and warn the elves of the city. He was close to the edge of the clearing, almost to the trees and shade of the Mistborne.

Arrows fell about Alean. Time seemed to slow. Alean's mind screamed that his most beloved friend had been killed. But, Alean could only think of the walls and towers of El-Golan.

A cry went out beside him, and Alean turned to see Autumn stumble and fall with an arrow in her back. Alean felt helpless, as he could not help her now. He spared a glance at her and their eyes met. She did not plead for aid. She only said one word, and it would prove to be her last. "Run," she whispered. That is just what Alean did.

The Fall of El-Golan

The tide of the hoard crawled on. The once beautiful walls of the city of El-Golan had become dimmed and stained with the smudge of ash. The tall trees and elegant parks and gardens that could be witnessed from the parapets and towers beyond the elven city were no more. They had been raised and burned by the armies that had come forth from the Underworld.

A great alliance of foes from the north had moved themselves upon the once tranquil city. Flames roared up and smoke choked the residents that hid in fear and foreboding. Elven ranks stood clad in mail with swords that once shone brightly, but were dimmed by the machinations of war.

Goblins and spiders had been moved from the north under the hidden passages of the Halls of Gorthar. The passages had been widened and tunnels forged to the surface of Mistborne Forest to launch an attack at the elves, which had long thought they were immune to such atrocities as open battle.

There would be no help for the beleaguered city. No armies to drive away the foul alliance that waited beyond. An alliance of spiders and goblins that also included monsters of horror dredged up from the unlit depths. War had to come to all regions of the land of Ariwrath.

The elven forces had received warning. It was the only reason the city still stood. Alean Syr, Prince of El-Golan, had returned home wounded, but still able to convey rational thought. He had told his father everything before slipping into a coma of darkness.

The King of El-Golan had wasted no time. He had ordered everyone within the city's walls. The Knights of the Mistborne were marshaled and equipped for battle. When the enemy came there was a mighty host of elves that stood before the walls and gate of their city.

But, the tide of darkness had been too great. The goblins with their horrid allies of spiders and dredge beasts from the Abyss had routed the host. Elves watched and wept from the viewpoints of the city. The army of El-Golan was slain and torn apart. The bodies defiled and the flesh consumed.

The elves defended the city now only with the archers that stood upon the terraces and towers, striking those creatures that came too close within range. Thus, the army of the enemy besieged El-Golan, starving them out, all the while their own army's ranks swelled with reinforcements that were mustered underground. Soon their host would be too great for missiles or darts, and they would storm and smash the gate.

The King had placed all the military decisions with his generals and had forsaken the activities that took place about his crumbling home. He stayed now in the healing house at the bedside of his son. Alean had fallen into a swoon of darkness, which the king was afraid that he would not recover from. The king wept, holding his son's hand, feeling all was lost.

The king watched his son, caressing his forehead. He moved only to make way for the attendants and healers that moved frantically about, doing their business. They were making beds and piling up their supplies, preparing for the wounded of the great battle that was sure to come. The king assured them that such preparations would not be needed.

The healers smiled at the king and spoke assurances and agreements. But, they did not heed the king's words and continued on. The king smiled sadly, for he knew that the healers thought that their lord believed that the enemies would never breach the city. But, the king meant that once the city was breeched there would be no need to tend to the wounded, for none would survive.

On the sixth day, great horns of woe blared. The walls of the city shook and the inhabitants trembled in their uncontrollable fear. The armies of Devindal were prepared to strike. They marched forward to deliver the deathblow to the ancient city.

It was at the call of the horns and the rumbling thunder of marching feet that followed, when Alean finally opened his eyes. The king, who sat in his own dread and fear leapt forward in happiness. Alean smiled tiredly at his father, not knowing the danger that was at hand. The king, whose eyes filled with tears, smiled back at his son.

"Father," Alean said, his voice croaking from parchment. "I dreamt an awful dream."

"So have we all," the king responded sorrowfully.

Alean studied his father's face. The apparent nightmare flooded Alean's mind. He saw the death of his friends and the death of the woman Autumn. He remembered the fear of fleeing back to the river and the mounting of his horse. He remembered telling his father the dread tidings.

"It was not a dream," Alean stated.

"No, my son," the king said. "It was not. You were now just awakened by the siren of our doom. The host of the enemy has come."

As if to drive the king's point home, a great boom echoed forth. There was the sound of cracking and then the boom rang again and a chorus of evil song was lifted up as the goblins cheered as the gate of the city was smote asunder. The cries of the elves sounded pitiful in comparison.

"The goblins come now my son, to finish the Goblin Wars that we elves fought against them long ago. El-Golan falls this day, but you must not. You will be last of our kindred dear Alean. You must escape! Your destiny lies along a different path than ours. You must seek now the forbidden place. You must seek out the Path of the Dream!"

"Father!" Alean said in desperate protest. "Give me my sword and I will fight!"

Alean tried to get up out of the bed, but was too weak. He fell back, crumbled on the mattress.

"Your sword is here," the king said, placing Telkist next to his son on the bed. The cries of the dying and sound of war was growing now, becoming louder and unbearable. "You must travel the Path now my son. It has been reserved for you ever since our forbearer, Eladon, found it. Go now, my only child. Take with you the hopes of all your people. I declare you king now. A king in exile you will be. There are things you must still accomplish, greater threats to the world of Corthan, than just the annihilation of your people. Go and goodbye!"

Alean's father stood and looked tearfully onto his son. He bent forward and tenderly kissed his son on the forehead. Then in a fluid motion he drew the sword that he kept at his side and knighted his son declaring him king. Then his father left, saying not another word, to do battle and die facing his foes.

Alean's heart ached with pain and confusion. Everything was happening so suddenly. His father had declared him king, the kingdom was being destroyed by goblins and dark foes, and he was instructed to search out the Path of the Dream. He did not know how he could reach it. Not when he was flooded with such turmoil. But, he had to try; it was his father's wish. Besides, it was all he could do, for he could not wield a weapon in his current state.

He closed his eyes and moved his hand to grasp the hilt of Telkist. He shut out the noises of fighting and the cries of death. He focused his mind as the scholars had taught him. He envisioned the Path of the Dream, and this time it came quickly to him and easily enveloped him. Around his fading body El-Golan was turned to ash and cinder.

The Path of the Dream

The overlapping arched branches parted and a breeze blew him forward. Alean moved forward on the path. His wariness had faded away, and strength had returned to his limbs. Telkist was buckled at his side, but he wore no armor. On his head was a thin gold band, the crown of the king.

Before him came a clearing, in which rested a golden pond. The leaves about the pond were no longer golden, they had turned color and appeared ready to fall. Two shapes moved on the pond, swimming towards the edge of the water where Alean now waited. One was black and one was white, they were the Two Swans of Peace.

As the Two Swans of Peace came near him they spoke in their own musical language, but Alean was able to understand. They told him of the coming trial that he must face to help all of Corthan from falling under shadow. Alean told them that he did not understand. They let him know that it mattered not.

They revealed only that he was the last of the line of Syr, as had been foretold long ago. He was to travel north to the Plains of the King and come to the city of Anwyn. It would be there where he would learn his destiny. It would be his duty to uphold the line of Syr and make sure his deeds in life were worthy of entry into the Tower of the Dead, so that he would stand with the ranks of Tevindal's forces at Rantarok. If he was not strong enough, then the balance of the battle may tip to the side of Devindal.

Then the Swans revealed to him the armor that he would wear. And with their wings they pointed to a black-breastplate that rested near the edge of the bent, aged trees. He went to it and grasped it with both hands. He then put it on and found there also a white helm for his head.

He was told that he wore the Armor of the Swans and it would help him on his journey. Then he was instructed to wake up and leave this place for it had been found and was no longer safe. The Seeker, a servant of Devindal, had long sought this enchanted place and was coming now to end the Swans.

Alean protested that he would not leave, but would stay and protect them with his new armor and with his mighty sword. But, as he stood there at the water's edge his vision faded. Alean slowly came back to consciousness and noticed he lay still at the water's edge, but now it was murky and clouded. The leaves too had fallen, and lay crumbling on the ground.

He awoke and stood, remembering not all of his encounter, but knew he was told to head north to Anwyn. He left that place then, never to return. He left shedding tears for his fallen city. He left shedding tears for the loss of the Two Swans of Peace. He left as the Exiled King of Mistborne Forest.

Part 1: The Call of Aviar

It was but a time of swirling darkness

Moving away from those moments that came before

Shifting currents of stellar course ways

Awakenings and beginnings drifting to a close

In the Forever Night Sea rested Corthan

It was a jewel of blues and greens

Moving about a sun that had since faded

A Falina whose luster was now shade

Of ages said and done to this day and beyond

Filtered to the wayside through old war

The Crescent Tower of Fallen Light sits in discomfort

Minions are gathered for a plan of deceit and more

Upon the seat Aviar stirs

Drakun rest upon demonic knees

Curses of submission and curses of delay

The chorus of the choir that have waited for this day

Sun's Bane rises while shadow's darkness spreads

Declaration to ensue the forgotten; the ceased approach

Beating wings and beating dread are ushered forth the gate

To rid the stinging glare: The Towers of Twilight

Part 2: Anwyn Answers

War dances upon the Plains of the King

It drifts and swirls with the loose earth

Men cry and die in bloody submission

To the town Kilath the Prince of Anwyn rides

Steel bright from swords bared sweep into the thick ranks

Spears become splintered as swords become shards

Death is the Master of goblin and man alike

Prince Gungnir believes the horde is too many to hold

A messenger is called and the message is given

The horse rides east fading in the descending light

By treachery's destiny a hidden arrow strikes

Halting hope on the Plains of the King

Part 3: Journey's Destiny

But the message is still on death's breath

Whispered with the passion of a lover's embrace

The words meant for a king trickle out to a stranger

The message is embraced with the words of dire fear

Thus does Zet Lightwater stand on the road alone

Bent and tired from the day's sweat and dust

He takes to horse and swift movement crosses the night

Darkness and the bite of wind become the caress of the desperate

Ride! Ride, dear young farmer into the unknown

Days await you with the livestock and crops

But forsaken you are! Lost to the tug that always was meant for you

Drifting farther away from what you have always known

Day makes its break, light filters over the towering heights

Of the Mountains of Might and White Sky that flank you

Shifting the cool wind that blows your hair and horse's mane

Like an arrow you shoot across the plains watched by unseen eyes

Day wares on as you sing the song taught to you long ago

Lost in thought about the embers of evening glow

She comes to you from shadows that grow ever longer

Aoifa! Her wings flutter their gentle breeze, her words are softness

She comes into fire's filtering light wearing a dress of flowers and green

She is serene, a comforting sight, Zet's heart is filled with delight

Her hair is red, a fairy princess from Crystal Keep

The fire they share, stories they share, as love began growing

Day came alight and fine but the air was changed

There was the dampness of growing darkness

The shade that grows and can be felt though joy be abound

War was on the west but war was coming to the world round

They traveled on together

To the edges of the land where the mountains meet

To the edge of the world as they knew it

To the shining towers and waving banners of the castle-city Anwyn

Part 4: The Grip of Darkness

Moving across lost memories of a time forgotten

Darkness a drift in anger's grip pulling the strings

It can be seen a blue that burns the Seeing Eye

Drifting descendants of an ancient keep flutter now

Landing Drakun; stinging the lights of the world

Their burning tide grows dim

Fade

Fade now turn to the dimness of blue

Fade

Fade to the Twilight of the Dark Star

Part 5: The Frozen Lands of Scand

Deep in the mountain home a moan escapes his lips

Frozen is not just the weather nor the call of the chill wind

It is his heart locked away in a chest of sadness

Molwyn Stronghammer battered and broken

His child buried in the valley below

He comes awake; eyes shadowed and empty

Fallen drops fall broken and shattered on the ground

Lost

Movement and stirring the Ice Giant stands

Moves out into the starry night that stands veiled

Alert he looks across the mountains down to the Sea of Frost

It glitters, but this twilight is eerie, something is wrong

Acceptance is granted he moves back into his cave; Grind waits

He will travel to find the answer; it does not matter how far

Lost; searching to be found

Part 6: From Across the Sea

Thunder it roars

The waves crash below

Breaking the lines of demons that patrol the coast

Swords blur; Seafire strikes as his enemy falls

Kumul Seafire a Dolpleanan Juggernaut

His men crowd in behind him

They are the crests of the cyclone

The enemy is thrown back into the sea

Light is lost twilight remains

Gained hope begins to fade

Brave Juggernaut with his shark-toothed seasword

Takes to his white vessel and sails now from the Mountains of Sea Foam

To seek his answers in Anwyn

Part 7: Finished Tale of the Two Swans

What these eyes have seen they may never forget

What these eyes have seen is the Accursed Deed

Death is my only constant companion

It is my crutch in this emptiness

Oh dented armor! Oh dented golden blade!

Protect me through this madness

Be my light and guidance

By fixing this broken heart

Lost is my city and home

My friends no longer roam the Mistborne

Olarin take me somewhere new to that place I saw

Gifted to me from the blood that flows in my veins

Loner on his sojourn his Path lying ahead

Cry on El-Golan

Part 8: The Banners Fly Gathering the Chosen

In the court of the king many stand unfound

Five lots cast five lots drawn in the drift and pull of eternity

Two remain hidden in the shade

None know their true calling

A message sent and received with a tug of a string

High above on the towers the banners fly

Flapping wildly in the wind, but the trumpets remain silent

Shining knights flood across the brink

Going to the aid of those on the Plains of the King

But, to those that remain a greater destiny remains

Tides of change sweeping, demons from above achieve victory

Blotting out the rays of the towers, midnight blue remains

Erie light, oh mystical raiment of static charge fizzles overhead

The Dark Star gives its call

Oh fateful gathering now heed the call of prophecy

Relinquish past lives in the call of bondage

Depart to make safe Corthan

By discovering the lost hold of the Dome of Golden Light

Behold! Hold Salitrant aloft and cleanse the curse prior the third moon

Failure and the eternal shadow are the same

And calling forth the prince arrives to lead a faction south and to the east

While the other goes north and to the west, one under the sea the other over

Part 9: Of the Mountains of Might

Molwyn, Aoifa, and Zet set forth to the high-ward pass

Reaching up an ancient stair that ascended high in cold stone

A ruined citadel, fallen to times unknown

Sitting silent amongst the bastions of might

But, there are whispers catered on the wind

And a path that leads under rock and stone

To the depths they delve, a long unseen place

Once held splendor and courts, but now festering stink

Down and deep the troop creeps knowing they were not alone

Stone turned to ice and they entered a cavern bold

A troll tall, blue, and wicked with ice-silver mail and hammer

Thus Grind and hammer meet sparking fiery flame

Zet and Aoifa retreat from the deadly game

Growing fear and sweat as the duel progresses

Grind sweeps in and gives deadly caress

A head rolls as a giant roars and a chamber is revealed

Inside the room the companions find byrnie, sword, and shield

Thus, Stormwind is discovered after centuries of sleep

Zet dons the armor and takes the blade of lightning and thunder

As the three move back into the world under the blue faded light

Part 10: The Goblin Downs and the Forest of the Spider King

Arise! Oh heroes as you cross the devil's ground

Beasts spot and chase you like the hound

Green and foul of the stink of bogs

Over hill and rolling wasted land

They herd to the dark forest on the edge of beyond

Goblins fall from their pursuit by speeding arrows

From hopeless heroes, but quivers run dry

From across the land they come to the forest's edge

And plunge into the spun web

Carried off to the wicked kingdom's dell

To await a fate in accordance to hell

But a storm is unleashed and wields bolts of slashing death

Thus Stormwind flares amongst darkened cloud

Its wind does wail and screech to besiege those beasts that have wronged

Webs are cut and masters are slain into smoking heaps

Others stand and fall against the heavenly firebrand

Thus darkness is lit in fleeting flashes and the trees above are a display of shadows

Then the canopy dispersed and Aoifa clings to Lightwater's breast with wounded wing

And he held her and hearts rejoiced at such victory against mammoth odds

Molwyn cleared a path with Grind and southward they went

Coming forth to a slant peninsula against the jeweled Sapphire Sea

Drifting across the plain they made way

And came to the port of Cresthaven

Part 11: Passage to the Scattered Islands

The blue glow overhead shaded the tall towers of Cresthaven

Leaving the building palaces washed in the tingling darkness

And the companions gained passage on a ship that set out from port

Onto waters that were dimmed, rather than sparkling gems

And they flowed across tranquil waters in a world ripped with war

Smoke rose on the distant horizon, the still burning trees of Mistborne

Thus smoke and ash came like tears, paying homage to their passage

A prayer for safe crossing, and hope for victory

To the end of the Bay of Blue Gems guarded by the Gate

Mael rent with civil war and war upon the waters

Moving swiftly and unnoticed they moved through the Gate and its ruin

Flowing forward to the openness of the Sapphire Sea

South the vessel flowed, steered by winds and guiding row

Moving down by the continent of Solizar to head east past Kalidor

The Scattered Islands lay in the beyond, and was a land seldom tread

It was home to a mighty beast that legends and mysteries said

To be a mighty serpent beneath the waves and stands in the way

Of the caves that lead to the hidden Dome of Golden Light

For weeks they sailed and watched the second moon to takes its fill

The orb mingles in the shade of the Dark Star above and was full of malice and evil

Under the glow of eerie night the flight of the vessel came to the Scattered Islands

And moving across waters of murky black they came between high walls and cliffs

They narrowed and the calm waters rippled below them and those aboard

Went forth to their horde of weapons and drew both steel and courage

Then in the night's glow the inlet of the island gave away to cave upon the wall

But, as the ship sought the edge of the shore a beast emerged from the gloom

It came up from the sea, black and purple a living representation of the evil night

A giant worm to crush the hopes for the Towers of Twilight

Stormwind unleashed fury as Grind swept in, Aoifa stabbed with silver dagger

The beast roared pain and fury as Molwyn came upon the rocks

Worm lashed forth with rows of teeth bared with sinking sting into the giant's shoulder

Grind fell with a clatter and as the worm was harried Molwyn dove into the blackness

The struggle was long under the wet darkness

The worm roared and sank to its struggles below

Black waters funneled and a whirlpool formed

Molwyn climbed and laid breathlessly upon the sharp rocks

Wounded he was but it was not of mortal make

He claimed no further could he go and that his height was too great for the cave

He would await victory and guide the ship at the cave's door

Zet and Aoifa enter darkness alone searching for light

Part 12: The Dome of Golden Light

When the heart sings alone

It sees the pass where seldom go

Where in the darkness can one escape

When the road seems so dark

Oh Aoifa! Alone on the path into the unknown

My heart has grown as love is harvested there

Take my hand I'll lead down this darkness

Where danger rests at every turn

Can you see?

Up ahead there is a crack in the dangerous wall where the slime drips

Go who are small enough, take a look tell me what is seen

It is a place hidden from this world, lost long ago

You can fit to pass through

Go, we take our paths alone

I'll stay here and wait for your return

Silence and darkness my love will be my companion

There is a way to escape this path between the earth

You find me and lead me forth

Walls fall away

Amidst the blue haze above sits along hidden fortress

The Dome of Golden Light shines so bright

Gilded in an age long past, but the stairs do not crumble

Part of another world you whisper before the War of the Gods

Go forth Stormwind! Vanquish the foul wind that rests in this beautiful place

I take the stairs and she stays at my side

Have I seen this place before?

Lost in that other world

Horns and trumpets blew while heroes conquered the field

What is that statue up above?

A Goddess of Tevindal, but known of a different name

A bow of respect, my love flutters her wings

She does not understand these very strange things

We come to a great hall with paintings faded and lost

Our presence is announced with heavy footfalls

We come to the end with a rotunda gazing up

My blade sizzles its ancient defiance

The painting within the dome above shows the heavens

The Golden King and his servants sit upon a world unknown

Lost in thoughts Aoifa wakes me

Salitrant rests upon a notch on the far wall

I go to it as if in a dream

Far away I hear my fairy queen scream

Hands, metallic and bronze slide forth grasping

A silver dagger flickers I fall back gasping

The Bronze beast stands at Molwyn's height

Its fists swing with powerful might

Glancing blows shatter walls

Lightning bolts Stormwind calls

Oh shock and fire give me hope

Those above lend me aid

Sword strikes I call out your name

My love at my side does the same

Thus the battle rages on

Black fists swing, descend, and destroy

I will not stop as wounds take their toll

Roll forth and strike till the beast of Devindal is gone

Aoifa's wings take her away

Fly! Oh love of miracles bring hope forth

She does, help from above

An iron spear releases, falls and ends the stand of woe

The golem crumbles falling away

Aoifa comes forth takes her part

She lifts Salitrant holds it high

Holds the Chalice of Sand Trapped Light

Go back now to the giant left behind

Guide the vessel forth with a new light

Go forth now to the Tower of Sunrise

Before the Dark Star forever stains the Twilight

Part 13: The Mountains of White Sky

Mountains tall adrift with snow and ice

To find a way to cross over you

It takes time a path must be found as we bound higher

There is a cave the three enter to stave off cold and defeat

A long night, outside cold and bright

From the glowing ice, but the stars are shaded

From the depths of darkness given forth

By the Twilight of the Dark Star

Aviar, fiend of darkness, casts his spell

The winds howl on

Prince of Anwyn so valiant and true

Hears not the footfalls as he stands watch

Taken! The struggle lasts not long

Avatari, the silver spear, clatters on ice

Gungnir yells, muffled through spread fingers

As he is drug away to the darkness beyond

Awake oh Dolpleanan Juggernaut as takes to Seafire

Telkist is unleashed producing yellow glow in blackness

Go now into the unknown where enemies await

Building the trap in the beyond

Paths of descent through curving rock

Takes its toll through the night

Cave spews them forth far below

To the essence of the morning

It is still dark with curse of evil above

Backs to the mountains the two look on

An ancient citadel short and thick rests hidden

Alean of ancient lore breathes out its accursed name

Part 14: The Forge of Alazar

Draw steel bright and vanquish this false night

Day rests high above, cast out by shadow and shade

Spells are at work by an old horror

Let loose to prevail alone long ago

A spirit inhabits a fortress that was an ally

Cut off by winter storm desperate aid came not

Lost! Alone! The enemy was all about

No word came again from the friend to the north

Now two against a monolith of stone and sorcery

A friend captive within that will not be forsaken

The wind howls the snow blows its random chaos

The two move forth through a gate that appears to beckon them

Steel clicks and closes the gate and falls shut

The snow stops the wind ceases but in silence there are eyes

They watch their approach into the gaping maw of the fortress

Torches are lit brands to stay away from shadows

Sounds are heard on the edge of silence

What beasts remain here?

Bodies litter chambers as adornment

No deciding between friend and foe all fulfilled the master's will

Up stairs with resounding clamoring echoes

They drift behind, but nothing can be seen with bright steel nor torch

To vast halls of ancient work busy with its absence of workers

Hammers strike on anvils piling up both shining armor and glittering steel

Higher up finds whispering voices urging retreat

No heed for damnation when a captive remains in thrall

Blades held tight to release might

Upon a foe that knows not the breath of life

To the highest chamber a place of sickly cold

Finds the prince upon an altar of frigid ice

Spells loom about him as he struggles against unseen bonds

His eyes are wide and vacant, but for unlooked torments

Thus Alean and Kumul come forth, weapons held high

Steel flashes at the white flickering spirit as it howls pleasure

A voice of dread it speaks words of a forgotten tongue

But its mortality it seems to wish to retrieve

Oh demon of Mashutol, long driven out of the ancient dungeon

Come now to raise an army to conquer an undead kingdom

A weapon unseen by the demon's eye recognizing not Falina work

Alean comes forth and challenges the spirit in the works of wizardry

The Master of Alazar casts spells of ice and wind to dim life about him

Encrusted runes within the golden blade flare to life

Mingling fire and heat against snow and ice

Letting the torrent of the storm rage about

And the hall shakes and quivers with the weakening of the demon

Its bonds about the prince weaken and fail

Kumul hides undercover to take Gungnir from the melting altar

Thus the three retreat as the wizard-craft cracks mortar and stone

Through halls and chasms the chase resumes

Through falling fire and columns of ancient make

Weapons and hordes of jewels are swallowed whole in rent ruin

The forge's fires pour their heat to succumb Alazar's foundation

The gate crumbles as three pass while trapping all within

Alean holds Telkist aloft and spins an unseen web

The Forge of Alazar broken and shattered crumbles forth

As the spell of Alean traps the demon to the end of Corthan

Part 15: The Tale of the Sea Side Wars

And the three made their way to Crystal Keep and sailed

Their vessel a gift of the Fairy Queen with the color of white oak

Essellar it was named; The Cloud of the Sea

For the wind did the work in its tall sail to take them to the Mountains of Sea Foam

To the Vinsnarpian Prince's land they went and he began to sing

It was a tale of war and woe

Of the shell named the Conch of Palila

700 years after the Silverstar fell

Between Merlaa and Ilith rested the Temple of Peace

Our love it held there the union of truce

But did come the time of strife

When evil did threaten our way of life

And it came from the outer world beyond

Of emissary's threats and the Hammer Groth

To forge a tower amongst the Star Crested Sea

To be a twin to the dark tower of the sea

Spears, arrows, and seaswords were made

To be given to our heroes and the stance they held

But, strength of our numbers were not enough

That the Conch of Palila and its aid were sought

Of secrets it holds of our ancient kin

The unity of Dolpleanan and Squidaandan

Hidden in a temple cave hidden and sealed

To bring back the ancient heroes of the dead

Two of each race was put to the quest

And they fell into the darkness of their test

For they found the Conch and each claimed it their own

None of those brave four ever came home

Bonds of friendship became bonds of hatred

Weapons flashed in the opening of later war

For the Conch there was battle and it was destroyed

No aid from beyond was ever deployed

Both Dolpleanan and Squidaandan fought on

Till the anger of the enemy was quelled and gone

But, the foe ravaged the land and built tunnels below

As Groth forged out great halls of the Underworld

The great enemy left but war was not defeated

As the destruction of death found itself soon repeated

And there was civil war upon Vinsnarpia

All for the lost Conch of Palila

The Dolpleanan Juggernauts swept their ancient friends before them

Until Ilith became an empty city of the dead and dying

And Merlaa cried forth and loud

Sweeping their new sworn foe into the ground

Now the Squidaandan live in the deeps far below

In the darkness fashioned by the Devil's Hammer

Friends no more, our brothers are lost

To the light and to the sea

Friendship and sorrow have turned only to hate

Through joining forces to fight an evil fate

One worse than falling to the might of old Myr

Was the call for the Conch of Palila

Part 16: The Underworld

Thus the Tale of the Conch of Palila ended

And the ship came to the Mountains of Sea Foam

Vinsnarpia proud and green and adorned with white cloud

The sea gulls fly and sing of haven

For it is the last land of defense

Against the evil that lived in the Sea of Monsters

To a path they must take beyond mortal danger

To the Underworld and the home of the Squidaandan

Across the mountains tops they went to find a hidden stair

It circled down below to what was hidden there

Darkness and dampness was the heart of the mountains core

The faint shadow of evil that carved an ancient evil door

And they passed out of the world lit by light, be it of faded blue

To come to a world that many never knew

Torches were lit and they moved forward on guard

Led by the teeth of Seafire's barb

Many dungeons of horror they passed

Bodies littered the floor from generations of the past

Then beyond a bend there was a yellowish glow

Kumul knew he approached a city of his race's ancient foe

Then before them was a gate carved from mountain stone

Two guards stood forth with bent bow

Alean moved forth showing his elven face

Sheathing his sword showing he meant no harm in this stalagmite ridden place

Then after much deliberation

The gates swung forth for the first time in generations

They moved slow and creaked out a horrid sound

And the three were escorted to a tall mound

Within the city they found no gold or silver

But, it was a world of rock and stone

And the companions were soon brought to the king

But he was surrounded by a steel ring

Here the soldiers carried not sword or bent bow

For the royal guard had gauntlets with claws of steel or stone

And the king stood tall with his princess at his side

The squirming tentacles of their faces their crowns could not hide

The king spoke to the travelers but soon saw Kumul's face

The Dolpleanan Juggernaut from the accursed race

The king held his anger and did not smite his foe

Instead he listened to the over-world's tale of woe

Then did the Squidaandan King show his hand

Through aid the Ithilian race must be welcomed back to their old land

Nesanuu Esta Kriznash, princess of the Underworld would guide

Though through darkness and danger they would abide

And in the treaty of peace she took Seafire's hand

Thence she led the band from her dark land

From the rock twisted towers she would not return

A greater fate awaited her as Kumul's heart began to burn

Part 17: The Love of Kumul and Nesanuu

Strangest fate await

In the darkness of world and heart

Little does one know

Where it comes and departs

Rejoice! Amongst this dark field of horror and slaughter

That Kumul, Dolpleanan Juggernaut, has held the hand

Of the Squidaandan King's daughter

Laughter and love outshines the devilry in Groth's Hall

Though monsters unseen from the Wars of the Gods

Assault the four wayfarers lost under earth

A new age of peace will spawn from this birth

They trudge on, with light lit from love

Hand in hand and with seasword and razor claw

Do the foes of their brilliant love fall

Avatari and Telkist are aiding fire

To allow the love of once foes find its desire

So, through tunnels, halls, and caverns

The four journeyed through the underworld

As days faded and the moon turns

The companions made their over-realm return

Part 18: The Battle of the Towers of Twilight

And coming forth from a secret stair

The four assaulted the deadly Drakun

Swift stroke of sword and stabbing of spear

Gained them entrance to fortress of Forlen

There the hoard was taken unawares

For the lookout had seen no ships under dreadful stares

Alarm was sounded as the storm surrounded

And took control of the Tower of Sunset

And across mighty Corthan on its distant edge

Three heroes sailed forth with dutiful pledge

Eve of the curse to set upon world forever more

The power of the Tower's light to be restored

Thus, docking on the edge of the taken tower

The three did not know the twin had fallen the same hour

Unlike their distant companions their approach was seen

But of the might of their enemy the Drakun were not keen

For they did not prepare themselves for a dangerous force

And did not know it was the fate of Gods that set them on this course

Molwyn and his mighty axe did sweep away evil currents

Dark foes watched in dismay from tall turrets

The giant's mighty roars shook the tower's walls

While bolts from Stormwind cleansed the citadel's halls

And Aoifa took the Chalice of Sand Trapped Light

She floated high above the fierce fight

To the top of the tower to the ascending moon

She chanted an ancient spell causing her enemies to swoon

Salitrant awoke and lent its power to the fallen light

And restored the glow to the Towers of Twilight

Then did Sunrise banish the falling night

The Drakun that survived disengaged from the fight

And the beasts flew high and far

Going back to Aviar's Dark Star

Part 19: Banishing of the Dark Star

To the Towers of Twilight all Aviar's will was bent

With the release of Salitrant his dwindling powers were spent

Thus crumbling walls of the Crescent Tower of Falling Light

Diminished the power of the Dark Star's Twilight

Many years later the heroes made home the Tower of the Dead

While Aviar was trapped brooding in his fallen castle of dread

All would meet again when there was one more battle to be fought

On the dread field of the Cosmic Battle of Rantarok

During the time of the War of the Gods all was chaos. The Great Pillars were thrown down causing the Realms of Confusion. Planets were swept away by the consuming tide of battle. And the rise of the Dread Lords caused fear and uncertainty in the stoutest of hearts.

Men and their allies flocked to the banners of Tevindal, while the foul demons forged by the Dark Smith Gorthar rode the tide of darkness behind the blood path of Myr. There was no escape from the terrible deeds of this era, no place to find refuge, save the hidden realm of Maglor. Maglor had long been hailed as a dwelling of peaceful splendor. The city of Maglor sat alone on the isle of Monthasim, a shining jewel amongst a world covered by a green ocean.

Her walls were thick and broad, crafted by stone harvested from the sea. Her architecture was art incarnate. Her gleaming white spires were fingers that reached to greet the clouds. Her gardens were green and lush and smelled of lilac.

All was well until the Deceiver came. His honey venom words were whispered into the ear of the Immortal King, which poisoned his mind. The king became possessed with the incantations of spells and demon-craft.

In his high towers he would stand and conjure storms of darkness in his mad quest to become a god. The Deceiver watched and waited. In his descending madness the Immortal King became very powerful. He enslaved his people and wanted to expand his kingdom, which he would do by removing the sea.

A great storm he raised from the depths of the world. Lightning fell like rain from the sky. The winds cut people like blades. And the ground beneath the once tranquil waters trembled and shook. The power of the Immortal King surpassed anything the Deceiver ever believed possible and in his fear he opened a gateway and fled. Then there was a great crack as the plates of the world separated, and the rushing waters poured into the inner depths of the planet and the city of Maglor rode the wave down into ruin and was swallowed and lost forever.

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.

Lost Thera

Oh Thera,

Lovely lost star taken by the cosmic wave

Bastion of beauty, now scattered ash

Drifting to the ends to the edge of Ultuma.

Lost are your peoples

Dwellers of peace and angels of light

Swallowed down into the crashing darkness

Broken beams ripped by force

Lost to the wrath of the Gods

Smashing away your civilization and those like you

All in an instant

The Cosmic Poet: On the Destruction of Thera during the Breaking of the Pillars, which started the War of the Gods

The Cloud of Night Before the New Dawn

They come they come now!

Fiery demons skirting the shore

Blessed wretchedness, swelling sickness

Fouling tranquil waters

A rose to protect, gleaming and now golden

Reflects what was once lost

Angels turned to beasts stalk the ground

Sowing their sorcery

Blades and tentacles march forever onward

To last a thousand years

The Cosmic Poet: On the assault of Kaevon's forces at the Great Battle of Kata'Sai

High Lord of the Flowing Waters

Lord Mabaslu,

Kingly king upon his white throne of pearl

Wearing the Three Pendants of Power

His voice is the vast echo

Booming in the deep and the gentle melody

Playing its tune on the rocks of the stream

His is a destiny written in stone

To slay his mighty foe

And to fade away at the Fields of Rantarok

The Cosmic Poet: On the God of the Waters

Crystal Blue Starlight

Oh Stars! Oh stars,

Lighting across a cosmic plain

Dressed in glowing blue

You hatch from your slumber

Saviors of a holy race

A fortress you built in a time before time

Standing of ruby stone

Her golden spire rises tall on the isle of the field of death

Waiting

You will go to her as you once did

Defending her spell drawn walls

Only once will her gate be broken down

Then your keeper will return home

The Cosmic Poet: On the Falina and their city of Fernoth

L'terin

L'terin!

Lost flower of an ancient race

Your hair were strands of gold

Your eyes precious emerald jewels

Glowing as bright as the Ball of Light!

Gone you are,

Lost in your crashing tower

Swallowed by stone and lost love

But, your spirit lingers on

Your spells have lasted three turning cycles

Through peace and ruin

You will show yourself one last time,

On the shores of a distant hell

He will need your strength

To carry on,

To the mountains he must go

A bridge of frost he must cross

To bring it all to an end

So, that you may rest

The Cosmic Poet: On Breina the Goldenflower and her destiny to guide the Hero of Time

Winter was on the edge of its end. Its cold air lingered in the wind that blew west over the Mountains of Scarlet Shadow. In the east, the distant sea appeared frosted and cool, its waves rolling in an eternal assault against the rocky shores. The first signs of the coming spring showed in the songs of the returning birds. But though it was close to the end of its cycle, winter still cast its breath.

Walking upon an ancient road, cloaked in ruin and decay, came two travelers. They had withstood the harshest part of the winter, and coming down from the heights of the Mountains of Scarlet Shadow they had survived many adventures. They were a ragged pair, one tall and one small, one cloaked and one donned a tunic of leaves and bark. They walked slowly, alert and purposeful, for they were on a journey of great importance.

A great tower they had conquered. A haunted forest of sorcery they had passed through. Mountains passes they had climbed. Foes of great evil they had confronted and slain. In the mountains they had met the giant, Glingfeld, and were taken as his prisoners. Long weeks they had sat in his dungeons far beneath the surface in the world of darkness. But they had escaped, and through cunning they killed the Giant King and fled his castle of rock and stone, and had come again up to the world that rested under the stars and sun.

But, the descent had not been easy. The slain majesty's servants had pursued them, and they were trolls cloaked in ice. The companions slew two of the ice trolls before evading the rest, and then found a path that led down from the heights of devilry.

They continued to walk their path unhindered by all, save only the wind. On the eastern horizon, the two moons, Ruden and Green Shadow began their ascent. The moons covered the distance in a soft tender glow, which appeared eerily evil. As the feet of the travelers continued to crunch the broken fragments of road, the smaller companion looked to his taller counterpart.

"Gilvias," the short one spoke. "The Lake of Stars rests only a few leagues from here, not far past the Plateau of Delvermar, and before the Sea of the Breaking. I say we find a place off this road and make camp for the night. This road looks like it hasn't seen much use in recent years, but we never know what lies out here in wait for travelers that stay on the road after nightfall."

Gilvias Oakstar stopped his walking and looked about thoughtfully. About him was a cloak of gray. Protruding from the cloak was the hilt of his long sword, Coldyne, an enchanted blade. Over his back was his quiver of arcane arrows, blessed by a priest of his god, Odorn (known also as Klemyni). His bow of ashen wood rested readily in his hands, with an arrow notched.

"As you say, Leaf," Gilvias said, taking his eyes from the surrounding landscape to look at his companion. Leaf was a wood nymph, his skin green like grass. His eyes were upward slanted almonds, and his hair was long like golden wheat. He barely stood three feet, but was as brave and an accomplished warrior that could be found anywhere in the Realm of Colivur.

They left the road, leaving behind the crushed brown ash that cut across the open land, neglected by generations of kings that sat richly on their throne in Radiance, the capital city of Colivur. They walked into the frosted field, with grass the same shade of the old road. A breeze blew, cold and rigid, and the birds that had been recently singing stopped their songs. Leaf looked anxiously around.

Leaf's hand held his sword, Thorn-Biter, tilted in a downward slant. The blade had been given to him by the queen of his people before embarking upon their journey to save Colivur. It was a treesword, a gift from the Woll Wood Grove, the holy trees of Leaf's ancestors. It had been wielded a thousand years before, during the destruction of the Woll Wood trees by Masador, the Spider Serpent.

...

The ancient Woll Woods had been decimated, until all that remained was a small grove. The wood nymphs had gathered about the grove and were prepared to spend all their lives in its protection. As Masador's army of foul beings approached, a young nymph had gone into the forest to pray. Within the grove, a tree became illuminated in a golden flame and from it a spirit voice had spoken.

As the young wood nymph listened, he became empowered by the supernatural gifts of his ancestors. Then the flames about the tree grew brighter. The fire seemed to grow fiercer from the inside of the holy tree, until it shone so brilliantly that the wood nymph was blinded by its brightness. But his vision was not truly lost. Though his corneas were seared white from the burning of the holy light, he could still witness the outside world.

Then the flames consuming the tree turned into golden hands. The hands reached deep within the bark and wood and from its body it gave its saving gift to the world of the wood nymphs. And taking from itself a piece of holy wood, the flames forged Sairil, the sword known in common as Thorn-Biter. With the blade Sairil, the nymph swept away the forces of Masador nearly single-handily.

After the battle, the wood nymph came back to the Grove. Then after resting Sairil against the Woll Wood that had brought it in the world, the wood nymph became consumed by holy flame and his body turned to ash. His people fell into fright and dismay, watching what they believed to be the death of their savior. But, that was not to be the case.

His spirit had risen from the ashes, like a puff of smoke emerging from a doused flame. The spirit appeared as mist, and then with a slight breeze the spirit of the warrior was taken away. It drifted up to the sky and was gone. Afterwards, the sword was entrusted to the rulers of the wood nymphs and used on only the occasion of dire need. The spirit of the saving warrior would also show himself to his people when they greatly needed him. He became to the wood nymphs a god, and was called Raxis, the Siege-Breaker.

...

Gilvias and Leaf continued their march across the grasslands. Shortly to the north rose a tangle of woods, like gnarled tentacles or twisted fingers rising to the sky. They headed for them, being the only cover in a barren and dissolute land. After about a mile they reached the edge of the woods. It was a place that would offer no shelter against the coldness of the night, but would ward off peering eyes of those that wish to waylay those traveling on the road into the east.

They began to unpack, dropping heavy gear carelessly onto the hard frozen ground. Unbuckling their weapons came next, but was done so with a reverence next to the disdain of the way their traveling supplies were removed. Weapons were hand placed and propped up against the trunks of trees, but Gilvias did not relinquish Coldyne. Instead he kept the blade fastened at his belt and kept the palm of his hand always near its hilt. Leaf sheathed Thorn-Biter, but it too stayed close to his side.

They worked on in silence. Leaf gathered bits of kindling and stones to make a pit and a fire that they could warm themselves, but with flames small enough so not to attract attention from beyond the woods. Gilvias took his bow and sank a bit deeper into the forest. He returned shortly with a bird and what few herbs the forest was willing to offer up at this time of year. Gilvias sat down and immediately started on fixing a stew. When the fire was ready, Gilvias placed the pot of stew over the open flames. They sat, listening to the wood crackle.

"At daybreak, we'll need to make for the Plateau of Delvermar. It will be a tough climb down from there, but if we do not make it to the Witch's fortress in three days and break the curse then all will be lost." Gilvias said absentmindedly, as if he were talking about foxes or other woodland creatures.

Leaf nodded silently, and then added, "It is still a long path, and we know not what walks these lands or what lurks in the halls of her dungeons. Also, there is a lake to cross and we do not have a ship." He finished, looking hungrily at the stew pot that was beginning to spread its scents.

"Do not worry about the lake," Gilvias answered. "We will find enough wood to suffice a crossing. Besides, we have no choice. If we fail, the Witch Queen's plague will be released and all that we know and love will fall into ruin and will be no more. I will swim the lake, even though its waters are icy, before I'll let the Woods of Colivur be consumed by her foulness." Gilvias finished, then reached to stir the contents of the cook pot.

"Is it done?" Leaf asked, growing impatient.

Gilvias allowed a laugh. "It is. Try to not eat my portion as well. We have had enough of those incidents in the past," Gilvias said with a smile.

Gilvias took from his pack two wooden bowls and filled them with heaping hot stew. He handed one bowl to Leaf and gave him also a wooden spoon. The other bowl he kept for himself and licked some broth off his fingers that had splattered on them while dishing up the meal. The two adventurers dug in.

They sat in silence as they ate. Gilvias looked up to the sky where the Ancient Ones were splashed, and sparkling across the frigid night horizon. A calm peace took him as he watched in wonder. A thousand adventures he had been on, a thousand hardships and still the sight of the Stars of the Falina calmed him. Gilvias looked over to Leaf.

"Do you want the first watch?" But, there was no response for Leaf was already fast asleep, with what remained in his bowl splashed in his lap. Gilvias chuckled to himself, knowing that his brave friend could always find sleep in the strangest of places. So, the ranger pulled his gray cloak tighter about his body to protect from the wind as the night overhead settled firmly in.

The morning came as chilly as the previous night. Leaf had finally awoken to take his shift at watch. But it was not till the spiraling stars overhead had danced deeper into their positions of the night. Leaf had apologized to his friend, which Gilvias had quickly waved off. Gilvias had had much to think about concerning their journey and his thoughts did not allow much sleep even after his watch had ended.

They packed their belongings and prepped their gear for the day's march. They needed to reach the Plateau of Delvermar by the afternoon if they could. Gilvias wanted to see if they would have time to descend the cliffs to the shore of the Lake of Stars before the fall of night.

"It will be a long day today, Leaf," Gilvias said, smiling at his companion.

Leaf looked at his friend with a spreading smile. "When has it not been a long day while traveling with you, Gil? You have had me close to dead a dozen times already and almost had me in a giant's cook pot. Which, while we are on the subject, I could have escaped perfectly fine without your help."

Gilvias laughed heartily at this. It was a sound that he had not heard escape his lips since before they had set off on their journey. Both Gilvias and Leaf stopped dead at the sound. For the laugh had silenced the ancient wood. Looking at each other, they both knew they were no longer alone.

Coldyne, Gilvias' enchanted waysword, flashed out with its fluid silvery flowing movement. Gilvias had been gifted it by a man of agelessness named Telio-jun. Telio-jun had named himself a Prophet, but what he was a prophet of, Gilvias did not know. The ancient wizard had taught him the Ways, an ancient religion, and the functions of the blade.

Thorn-Biter too came out. The treesword leaving its scabbard of bark was laced together by strong plant roots. The two looked about the trees, perceiving nothing but eerie silence. Everything seemed to stop, even the blowing of the wind.

There was a bright flash behind them. The two twirled to face the danger, bringing up their weapons. They were stopped short, for a will stronger than theirs took them, commanded by a voice of power.

"Halt!" The voice spoke. The voice was drenched in spell and the wielder of the speech was an unexpected creature, wild and beautiful.

Coldyne dropped to Gilvias' side. His mind worked rapidly to understand what type of creature he was actually looking at. He found the answer, but the truth of it, his thoughts tried to repel. It was simply not possible. For it was said in ancient lore that only once had the blood of the Ancient Race been mingled. This creature before him defied that version of truth.

The wild creature before the two captive heroes was indeed beautiful. Her linage of Falina and elf was distinctive. She wore the garb of her woodland kin, the colors of green and brown. Her hair was brown lined with silver and blew wildly though there was no apparent wind. Her eyes were a shade of gray with a tint of blue. In her right hand she held a short ornate blade, and in the other was a wooden staff that resonated power.

"I am Eliniza Koarathandor," she declared. "And this is my companion, Dogar Stonecrusher," she said, pointing the tip of her sword to a squat but powerful dwarf emerging from the wood. The dwarf's head was shaven, his only hair being the trimmed beard upon his face. His armor was heavy and thick, being of plated gold with emerald lining.

Dogar moved slowly to Eliniza's side, hefting up a massive war hammer that too was thick with gold making. The trapped adventurers could see that the dwarf's gauntlets had tracings of runes of power, and he wore strange rings in each of his eyebrows. Dogar's eyes took a quick glance at the Half-Falina. It was clear that he was her servant more than her companion and would do anything that she may bid, even if it was to offer up his life for her.

"Only evil beings dare tread these paths anymore," Eliniza said accusingly to the pair. "Long has it been since creatures that followed the light traveled under the sway of these ancient trees. Your purpose now! Or the strength of Gololdye, the Hammer of Stonecrusher, and the sting of Elisteiri, my blade, shall find your flesh."

Gilvias stood proud. Then he raised Coldyne before him and with a fluid movement he sheathed the blade, filling the woods with a flash of silver light and shrill sound of ringing steel. The spell was broken and both Eliniza and Dogar fell back a step.

"Hear me and hear me true," he said, the power in his voice rising. He cared not who heard him. "I am Gilvias Oakstar, Knight of the people of Colivur. At my side is Leaf of the Woll Woods of Old. We are travelers on a quest of utmost importance. For we go now to the Witch's island to retrieve the powerful artifact she has placed in her Well."

Gilvias paused, cocking his head toward the Half-Falina. "And as far as only evil beings walking these woods, then what does that say of your purpose?"

Eliniza studied him. Her eyes narrowed at the apparent asking of her motives. But pride was not stronger than her mind and she took the stranger's meaning well. A quick glance she gave to her companion and then looked over those she confronted.

Her thoughts raced. They certainly did not look evil, nor has there ever been any tales of the residents of the Woll Woods taking sway with the forces of Devindal. And through her travels she had met the rangers before or those that were called the Knights of Colivur and this Gilvias Oakstar certainly looked and sounded as one of them.

She made up her mind. For good or evil she would now follow the course she believed Tevindal and the ancient Gods had set before her. Sheathing her sword she said simply, "Lower your hammer, Dogar. I believe we are among friends."

A small smile slipped upon Gilvias' face, though he did not lower his internal guard. "I believe this will work out okay," he said to Leaf. The wood nymph sheathed Thorn-Biter, but did not yet release his hand from its pommel.

Gilvias came forward, his arm extended in the proper gesture of friendship. "Perhaps, we should do this correctly." He said without any trace of sarcasm.

"I am Gilvias Oakstar of Clan Elinon and this is my loyal companion Leaf. Dire is our need and the sun sets soon on the time of our quest. We travel now to the Plateau of Delvermar. We must reach the Witch Queen's dungeon and take from that horrid place the magical necklace she has put in her Well. If we do not succeed, Colivur will fall."

Eliniza looked at him for many moments. "Are you the only two they sent to protect their fate?"

The eyes of Gilvias became tired and sad. And both Dogar and Eliniza noted that Leaf hung his head low in sorrow.

"Nay. As we speak, Radiance is at war with the hordes of the Witch's allies. Leaf and I set out with nine other companions. All were of the knighthood or from other Clans of great heredity. Our companions have all fallen into shadow. Leaf and I are the last of that fellowship."

Eliniza let go of Gilvias' hand and went to Dogar. Together they huddled and Gilvias heard whispering of language he had never in all of his travels encountered. Leaf looked anxiously to the east meaning that they could not delay. Gilvias patted him of the shoulder, meaning for him to be patient, hoping that this was part of Tevindal's plan.

At last Eliniza emerged from her whispering into Dogar's ear.

"We will accompany you on your quest," she said. "For your need is our need as well. If by our lives we can help bring about the defeat of the Witch, then we will give them willingly."

Gilvias nodded in overwhelmed thanks. He looked to his friend, watching as Leaf's head rose up with shock apparent on his small features. Gilvias patted his small friend's shoulder and then went to clasp each of his new allies' hands.

"We must hurry then," said Gilvias. "Our time grows short and we must reach the Plateau and descend it by nightfall. If you know of a quicker way there then now is time to reveal it."

"I have traveled these woods many times," responded Eliniza. "I can move through them swiftly, as I am sure can you. But hopefully Dogar does not slow us down," she said with her lips turned up in a smile.

"Let us be off then," said Dogar in a gruff old voice. "And I assure you that a slow crossing will not be of my doing this time," Dogar said proudly and stubbornly.

Eliniza smiled, and then she was off like a deer, swift and confident. Gilvias quickly fell in behind Eliniza with Leaf just right by his side. Dogar brought up the rear with him grumbling words about how he was going to trip on a tree root again. Hearing this brought a smile to Eliniza's face.

So they traveled through the woods on a path that seemed hidden from all eyes, save those who have found it prior. After many hours they emerged from the woods and they rested and ate. Soon after they continued on. Overhead the sun was an hour past noon and still they had far to go.

The ground then began to change. It went from brown grass to dirt that was split and parched from thirst. They slowed their pace and as they marched on and finally they came to an edge of a great cliff, the Plateau of Delvermar. Down below, several hundred yards was a beach of white sand. And stretching out across the horizon were the teal tranquil waters of the Lake of Stars.

Gilvias came up to stand next to Eliniza. Her breathing was much calmer than his, he noted to himself. And for several moments they stood there, looking out to the destiny that awaited them. Slowly she turned to look at him.

"Do you see it?" She asked him. "The Island of the Witch Queen?"

Gilvias let his eyes linger with hers for a long moment before turning back to the eastern horizon. Bringing up his right hand he shaded his eyes. Slowly, he let his eyes move across the expanse of the lake, searching for a tiny spot that was rendered invisible to him due to the glaring of the sun's light on the flowing water.

"I do not," he responded. "Do you?"

"Yes, it is there," she said, pointing to what seemed to be directly in the center of the lake. "Time grows short now Gilvias. We must make our descent."

Gilvias turned back to look for Leaf. What he saw was Leaf taunting a grumpy dwarf as Dogar laid on his back trying to recuperate from the long day's journey. The dwarf made mild violent threats at the tree nymph, but Gilvias could sense that the dwarf did not mean it. Leaf had taken a liking for the dwarf and it seemed to be true the other way around as well.

"Leaf, I need you to set up your tree vine rope for our descent of the plateau cliff," said Gilvias.

Leaf went right away to work, pulling from his pack a thin, but strongly made rope from the vines of the Woll Wood trees. Gilvias walked slowly over to where Dogar lay. Looking down at the tired dwarf Gilvias tried not to smile in amusement.

"Are you okay, Master dwarf?" He asked.

"What? Hmm?" Dogar muttered, rolling his head back and forth to find the source of the new voice that spoke to him.

"Of course I am okay," he said gruffly and more strongly than his previous mutterings. He tried to sit up and failed. This time Gilvias did let a smile creep itself upon his face as he extended a hand. Dogar took it and Gilvias pulled the dwarf up to a sitting position.

"You will need all of your strength, Master Stonecrusher," Gilvias said as he pulled Dogar to his feet.

"It will be a very dangerous climb down to the beach of the Lake of Stars."

"Nothing I won't be able to handle," Dogar grumbled as he walked away. Gilvias just laughed to himself and mentally tried to ready his mind for the hardships to come.

The Descent and the Voyage

The four adventurers scaled the cliff of the plateau as the sun shed its last few remaining rays of light upon the world below. A dim shadow consumed them as they took their first steps onto the sands of the beach. The rock of the plateau and the day's fading gleam left them in near darkness. Overhead the two moons, Ruden and Green Shadow, came forth from the deeps of the eastern waters. The stars too began their twinkling and shedding of blue-fire light.

The wind blew cool from the chilled water of the Lake of Stars. Gilvias pulled his cloak about him, while Leaf stood behind his friend hoping his girth would shade him from the cold bite. Eliniza stood next to Dogar, who endured the cold. The Half-Falina tried not to convey that she was cold, but her eyes gave her away.

Gilvias came near to her. He spoke in low tones, offering her his cloak. She refused him. But, he persisted, and finally she took it and gave him quiet words of thanks and a small smile.

Dogar stood there, uncomfortable by the display. Slowly rocking from foot to foot he said, "Now that we are on this forsaken frozen beach, how do we get across to this witch's isle?"

"Tevindal will show us the way," Gilvias responded. He moved away from Eliniza, moving farther out onto the open sand. His eyes scanned north and south looking for anything that would aid in their crossing. He saw something, four slates of stone rising from the ground.

Leaf came to his side following his gaze. "Let's go see what those are."

"Agreed." Dogar said, moving up to Gilvias' other side.

"Agreed." Eliniza echoed, coming up behind him.

Feeling as he had been elected leader, Gilvias slowly looked at each of those in this newly assembled party. Three pairs of eyes looked back at him with waiting and expectant looks within. "We go then," Gilvias said. The fluid metal sound of Coldyne rung as the blade came forth from its scabbard. Coldyne found a chorus of song as Thorn-Biter and Elisteiri were drawn. The dwarf hefting his hammer muttered, "Let us be on with it." And with that they made their way down the beach to the stone slates.

Moving down the beach they came to the stone slates. Looking upon them they saw that they were markers of graves. They looked ancient. The waves and the tide of the Lake of Stars had washed over them for what the adventurers thought could have been centuries.

There were actually five grave markers in total. Gilvias came closer to look upon them and saw that all, save one, had had the inscription and epitaph worn away.

"Here lays Morgar the Watcher," Gilvias read.

The ranger looked to his companions. Leaf and Dogar seemed indifferent to the words. Eliniza reacted differently. She came forth slowly, but forcefully pushing Gilvias aside.

"Morgar the Watcher," she repeated to herself.

The words seemed to have meaning to her. She turned around quickly, her eyes darting about. Elisteiri wavered slightly in her right hand, but the staff in her left steadied her.

Leaf and Dogar grew more alarmed by her actions and the four of them instinctively formed a circle with their backs to one another.

"Who is Morgar the Watcher?" Gilvias asked. "And why are we afraid of one who is apparently dead?"

"He is dead," she stated flatly. "He has always been dead, or so it is said. The tale of Morgar the Watcher was told to scare the children of the village I grew up in. It was said that he was a sorcerer in the service of Sethgard the Cruel, a hideous half-man, half-beast that captured and mutilated people, mostly women. But his lair was supposed to be in the Fabled Forest, far on the other end of the Realm of Korilan. It was supposed to have been destroyed by a band of adventurers, as told by Elda Lightarrow, my ancestor."

"Sorcerer? I thought you said he has always been dead," Dogar grumbled, with the distrust of magic, and those who wield it when they are supposed to be dead, heavily prevalent in his voice.

"Undead," Eliniza replied.

At this, Leaf visibly trembled.

"I believe he watches even now," Gilvias quietly said.

Then the band of companions fell silent. And they noticed that the world around them too was silent. For the sounds of the wind and the washing waves of the sea had ceased. It seemed like about them the world had died and that they had been transplanted into a different vision of the Realm of Korilan in which they now stood.

Then the silence was broken and the sky turned to the color of blood. And on the currents of air rode a voice that was ancient and terrible. Its tones were screeches and the wailing of death. Many words it spoke but in a tongue forgotten by all, save those trained in the ancient lore of the Realms of Confusion.

Eliniza Koarathandor, a woman of royal lineage of the Elves in Kurnath, who was of both the Elven and Falina lines, was one trained in such lore.

"Betrayers of Death, worshippers of the weak Lord, enemies of the Witch Queen, your deaths I shall grant. My skinless pets you will become. Your blades will be tainted by my poison, and at the walls of Castle Radiance you shall slay the ones you love," Eliniza translated.

The sand began to shake and the gravestones crumbled and broke. From the soft ground before them rose four ancient warriors dressed in heavy mail. They carried broad shields and swords with ancient runes written upon the naked steel of the blades. They were Death Walkers and their heads were bowed, awaiting the arrival of their lord, Morgar.

Morgar the Watcher came. Materializing before the fifth grave, he was built by fragments that had been scattered across the beach. His laughter was the wind, and it was evil and cruel. The screams of his countless victims across time were its chorus.

His body came to being. He was dressed in black robes with traces of scarlet and gold. His helm was made of black coral taken from the sea far to the west. But his face was his own. It was rotted and corrupt, with pieces of decayed flesh still clinging to some places.

His bodyguards now raised their heads at the coming of their master. Their faces did not wear the corrupt decaying flesh that their master's did. They wore no flesh at all. White pearly skulls peered at Gilvias and his newly bounded fellowship. Thus, the living faced the dead.

"Go goloth Tu' Lentil! Tu' Tevindal!" Eliniza roared as she surged forward, which means: "Go forsaken now to the light, to Tevindal."

A blast of light ripped from her staff. The bolt sizzled as it struck at Morgar. He deflected it with a spell of his own. But, he was immediately forgotten as she met the resistance of his guard.

Elisteiri flashed with reflected light of the red sky. Burning, the blade seared through the chest plate of one of the skeleton warriors. The dead warrior brought its own sword down, descending to the exposed flesh of Eliniza's neck. Instead of flesh, the blade met the hardened liquid metal of the waysword, Coldyne.

Gilvias stared at the creature's glowing eye-sockets as the two participated in a contest of wills. Eliniza moved away in search of new prey and found another of the dead warriors coming to meet her. Coldyne and the ancient blade stayed interlocked. Then did Gilvias smile and moving backwards he let Coldyne liquidize. The skeleton's sword moved freely forward, and the creature plunged forth and, with its momentum, it decapitated itself on the waysword as it became solid once again.

Elsewhere there was a loud crunch. Dogar's mighty hammer had smashed one of the creature's shield and the arm that held it. The monster that was beyond the grave was also beyond pain. It moved forward with its sword swinging wildly. Its burning red eyes reflected the glee of the blood lust it felt.

The rapid blows of its sword made Dogar fall back. He did his best to deflect the blows with the haft of his war hammer, but the sword was long. He moved the hammer forth blocking a blow. He turned his head, pulling it back as far as he could, but it was not far enough. The tip of sword sliced down Dogar's head leaving a long trace of slippery blood behind.

Dogar fell to the sand. His doom stood above him. The ancient spawn of Devindal, holding his blade high prepared to drive it through Dogar's chest. The sword started its descent and Dogar watched in slow motion the stroke that was to be his death. The stroke faltered and fell to the right of the dwarf as the skeleton tumbled into the sand.

In this dimension of madness, where the evil dead reigns, and the wind carries the voice of the demented, there was a wonderful sound that Dogar could not first put a word to.

It was laughter, pure and true. Leaf laughed as he used Thorn-Biter to sweep the legs out from the Death Walker.

"Get up you sack of potatoes!" Leaf called to Dogar.

The wood nymph turned around. Seeing the Death Walker he had taken down trying to rise, he moved quickly. He rolled upon the ground and did a somersault back to the skeleton. Thorn-Biter twirled, and in an acrobatic move, Leaf swept off the Death Walker's head.

Only two of Morgar's Death Walkers remained. The Death Walker locked in combat with Eliniza broke off from her to engage Gilvias. And the last remaining skeleton came forth to fight Dogar. Leaf came to the dwarf's aid.

Thus, did Eliniza Koarathandor, Half-Falina of royal lineage, face Morgar the Watcher alone. She stood proudly before the undead sorcerer, her hair blowing in a wind that touched nothing else. Elisteiri she held before her and her staff of power she held strongly into the ground. Around the staff was a glowing current that flowed from the bottom and brimmed strongly at the glowing sphere of light at the top.

"Foul carrion, drinker of souls, Beast of Devindal, go back to the abyss of Gorthar!" Eliniza said with words traced in magic power.

A blast of golden power shot forth from her staff. But Morgar was powerful. He extended his arm and from a crooked finger darkness flowed. The gold light struck the cloud of darkness, and then the two stood and faced each other through will as their powers of magic fought for the mastery over the other.

Morgar began to screech and wail. The sound was hideous and overbearing. The cloud of darkness began to swell, and the light dimmed. Eliniza took a step back, doing her best to summon forth more power through the Staff of Elginii.

She was losing strength. In her heart she knew she could not hold on, for this was a foe beyond her. Her heart faltered and as she looked into Morgar's eyes she understood why he was truly called the Watcher. As his demon eyes glared into her, he witnessed the torment of her soul, a cruel smile slipped onto his lips.

She was done, her remaining strength sapped. Then a hand softly grasped her shoulder.

"We stand with you," the voice whispered gently.

Eliniza turned her head slowly. It seemed to her that her movements were like that of a dream. Gilvias stood at her side and he smiled at her. His smile seemed chaotic, but somehow natural, as the cloud of darkness moved to engulf them.

"Let us be your strength, lass," another voice said at her other side.

She turned to see Dogar, and at his side was Leaf. The other Death Walkers had been slain. Now the four stood against the one. Eliniza's companions knew their weapons could do nothing against the creature, but they would stand with her regardless of what fate awaited them.

Their will and resolve flowed into her. Inside, she felt a fire awaken. It started as a small kindling, but soon spread and roared into a consuming flame. She felt the power of her ancestry course through her veins. The force became too much to keep within.

"Tu Terrin! Tu Terrin! Golde Floure sui lu Laevindal! Explelan goloth du Devindal!"

"The light! The light! Breina Goldenflower and the power of Lady Laevindal! Expel this forsaken of Devindal."

Eliniza's companions were thrown from their feet. Their eyes they shielded, for what came from Eliniza was a force too holy for them to look at. Eliniza became transformed as Holy Fire took her. She became a fiery angelic creature. Walking forward she came into the spell of Morgar and it dissipated.

Her staff and sword she let fall to the beach. She needed them no longer for this. Morgar the Watcher, monster of Devindal, slayer of many, quivered in fear. He could not flee for the heat paralyzed him. The Holy Fire came forth and swallowed the beast, wrapping her arms around him. There was one last terrible wail as Morgar was consumed. Then it was over, the fire went out and Eliniza collapsed on a quiet and peaceful beach.

...

"We'll have to carry her," an unknown voice said.

Everything was dark and painful. The woman could remember nothing, not even her own name.

"The boat should suffice for the crossing. The water seems calm now. Now is our chance under the cover of darkness. I hope only the Witch Queen is not aware her sentry has been dealt with." The unknown voice said.

The woman opened her eyes. Overhead the sky was lit with sparkles of blue fire. It was as if some cosmic hand had carelessly thrown small jewels of azure light across the waves of the Forever Night Sea.

"Falina," she whispered. It was the first word that came back to her memory.

"Yes," a voice answered. "I think you borrowed some of their strength back there. Theirs or someone greater."

It was a voice of a man. The woman's eyes turned slowly towards him and looked at a face she believed to be handsome. He smiled at her. She was close to him and he was somehow strangely over her.

He was carrying her, she now realized. And his face seemed familiar too. Her thoughts cycled rapidly, searching. Her memories came flooding back, she remembered him, she remembered herself, and she remembered what had happened, to a point.

"Gilvias," Eliniza said weakly. "Gilvias," she then said a second time with a stronger resolve. "What happened?"

He looked down at her and then looked away. It was many moments before he tried to formulate an answer for her.

"I am not completely sure," he started slowly. "You spoke strange words then burst into flame. It was too bright to look upon. We had to shut our eyes. When we opened them again it was over. Morgar was gone and you were lying unconscious on the beach."

He gently started to put her down. She felt as if she was placed on solid wood. Eliniza looked about and saw that she rested in a boat and around her were her companions. Thoughts raced in her mind trying to remember a boat anywhere in them.

She did not find an answer. The beach had been deserted, save for the grave markers of the foul minions of Morgar the Watcher. She knew also that there was not material enough to craft a vessel of this size. So where did it come from?

"Where did this boat come from?" Eliniza asked, voicing her thoughts.

Gilvias pushed the boat into the water, as he and Dogar began rowing against the small lapping waves. The air was calm and cool. The two rowed hard to get away from the strong tide pulled by the two moons before Gilvias answered her question.

"When you destroyed Morgar, many spells of his were undone," Gilvias started. "After about an hour heads started to rise out from the waves. They had faces of beautiful women, their hair were the colors of green and red. One came to the edge of the shore of the sea, and she stayed there and bid me to come forward. I did so with caution, for in my youth I have heard many tales involving beautiful temptresses of the waters that claimed men's fates."

"She spoke to me. Her voice at first was like a beautiful song, but I could not make out the words. Soon she realized this and put an elegant conch to her lips. The words were somehow translated through the use of the conch."

...

" I am E'lemiel," the mermaid said. "These are my sisters," indicating the other mermaids floating in the water. "Long have we been imprisoned under the sea in the caves of Dethgard, the home of Morgar the Watcher. Many of our sisters have perished at his hand. The bonds that held us there dissolved at the time of his destruction. Are you responsible for this deed? E'lemiel had asked.

"We are," Gilvias had responded. "At least, our wounded friend dealt the death blow to the goloth of Devindal." Gilvias said.

"I see," E'lemiel said slowly, pursing her lips.

"I can give no aid to her condition, but we would like to reward those that saved us from our unjust slavery," the mermaid said.

Gilvias had looked at her for long moments before responding.

"We are on a quest to destroy the Witch Queen at her dungeon in Skull Palace. But we must first cross the Lake of Stars. Can you aid us in the crossing?" Gilvias asked.

"Perhaps, but we could not carry you, nor do we wish to go near that evil place." She said.

"Could you find us a boat?" Dogar asked gruffly, not willing to stay quiet any longer.

"Yes." The reply was simple and then she went back to the sea and vanished, along with her companions.

...

"E'lemiel returned with this boat. She did not tell us from where she found it. She gave her thanks and then she was gone," finished Gilvias.

Eliniza looked at the moons. For some reason she was exhilarated at their waxing and waning. Her eyes became enamored at their light, and in her heart she felt something else. She fought it. Her mind told her to do so, but her soul did not.

"When will we reach the Witch Queen's island?" Eliniza asked.

"Dawn," Gilvias responded simply.

"We must be prepared to move. Sleep now, Meldina. We will row and you need your rest for the morning."

Gilvias moved away from her and went to aid Dogar with the rowing. There was a flicker in Eliniza's eyes. It was the fire of the stars and the moons. Meldina he had called her. She knew what that meant. It was a Falina word of old that meant a beloved Falina maiden. She closed her eyes and went to sleep.

...

The morning sun smoldered dimly in the gray cloud cover. Eliniza opened her eyes with a start. Sitting up, she looked around. An island loomed in the near distance, shrouded in a clinging fog. A tower of strange stone rose from its center.

She caught Gilvias' eye. His look was stern. His muscles were tense. In his hand she noticed that Coldyne had already been drawn.

"It is time for Elisteiri, fair Meldina," he said.

She looked around for her sword and found it in its sheath on the bottom of the boat. She grabbed it and brought out the blade. The sound was a clear ring of true steel.

"We go now to the devil's den," muttered Dogar from the front of the boat.

The strange relationship that was apparently happening between Eliniza and Gilvias did not seem to concern the dwarf. Leaf said nothing. The small wood nymph clung tightly to Thorn-Biter as if it would place a protective spell upon him.

"The fog aids us," continued the dwarf. "If it were not for it, I believe we would be dead by now."

"Agreed," Leaf piped up.

The dwarf took his eyes off the looming tower and turned to the wood nymph. He placed a heavy, grizzled hand on the little one's shoulder. Leaf did not turn to the dwarf, but he smiled and the fear that resided in his eyes left him.

"Once the boat is on the shore, we must move fast," Gilvias said. "Eliniza, will you be able to run?" He asked.

"Yes, I will make it," she responded.

"Good," Gilvias said, looking at all of them. "Dogar and I will lead and deal with any front resistance we should encounter. Leaf, you will stay on pace with Eliniza."

Gilvias reached forward and grasped both of the wood nymph's shoulders, turning him.

"If any foul minion of the Witch Queen should get past us, then you smote them in two with Thorn-Biter and send them to the Abyss, understand?" Gilvias said as more of a statement than a question.

Leaf nodded his understanding. Nothing must befall Eliniza that statement said. All within the boat understood. None seemed to find it out of place either.

"Our doom is nigh. We come now to the den of the witch that would see all that we hold dear destroyed," Gilvias said to the shrouded sea.

"We must be cautious. We must be brave. We must prevail."

Gilvias' words rang in all their minds as the boat crashed upon the sandy shore. The ranger leapt from the ship, Coldyne clouded with the fog as he hit the shifting surf and headed up the beach. Dogar was right behind him. He became lost to the sight of Eliniza and Leaf as the dwarf trudged forward. Leaf looked to the Lady Eliniza, and she met his gaze. The wood nymph then took her hand. They moved forward and too were swallowed by the thick hanging fog.

They all ran on. Under the presence of the fog the enemy had not yet detected them. They were passing structures now, ancient ruins left by whatever civilization held this damned place before the Witch Queen came and took it as her own. There was not much left, what Gilvias could decipher through the fog was stone statues that had had the remains fouled to reflect the alliance of the terrible beings on the island.

There was speech in the fog now. Gilvias halted the party and had them form a protective ring. They inched forward, moving cautiously. Sitting on an ancient fallen pillar were two orcs conversing and eating the remains of some poor creature.

It was clear that they did not know of the adventurers' presence. Gilvias hefted Coldyne and charged forward. The waysword flashed twice. Two orc heads rolled into the sand.

Gilvias turned to the others. With an impatient hand movement he urged them on. Before them the fog cleared slightly and they could see the rising tower that they had beheld from their ship at sea. It was made of stone as cool and cold as the morning. The top was ringed with carved faces of torture.

Gilvias glanced up and saw one sentinel, a monster of unspeakable horror in mangled black armor. The ranger's heart froze. The monster only had to look down and their raid would be revealed and the full strength of Skull Palace would be thrown at them. But the Watcher of the Tower looked out to the west, where he looked for ships of might to come with the dawn.

A new patch of fog covered them out of the view of the stone tower and its guard. They were coming close now to the fortress. Walls could be seen rising in the near distance, their presence lingering in the shadow of the morning mist. Gilvias slowed their pace and they proceeded further with much caution.

They came now to the wall that surrounded the castle. They formed a single line and moved now around the perimeter. They looked now for the gate or any other opening that would lead them into the depths below.

The wall they followed gave way, slanting inward. The fog was lifted here and they could see a massive wood gate. Before the gate stood a warning, a massive stone statue of a rocky beast wielding a gigantic war-hammer. Gilvias and Dogar peered around the corner looking for guards. They saw none.

"Follow me," Gilvias said to his companions. "There is a smaller door in the gate. And if Tevindal is with us it will be unlocked."

The four filed out from the protection of the wall. An eerie feeling befell them, as if they were being watched. Looking around they saw no one, and there were not any guards stationed upon the walls above them. The world went silent. They moved past the statue and stood only twenty feet before the gate when the silence was broken.

It sounded like the wall about them was falling down. Looking up the party saw nothing.

"Behind us!" Leaf's shrill voice screamed.

The statue they had passed was now turning to face them. Its eyes burned red as it looked down upon them. It hefted up its war-hammer and swung mightily. Leaf screamed and rolled away. Where he had stood just a moment before erupted in an explosion of sand leaving a pit in its place.

"Eliniza, check the door," Dogar roared.

She went quickly to it and turned shaking her head in urgent despair. The way was locked.

"Damn," the grizzled dwarf swore. "So it appears it ends here."

Gilvias moved forward. "No, I will not yet accept defeat." The ranger said as he plunged forward to the stone monster.

Dogar called out for him to stop. But it was too late, he was charging towards the guardian, his sword clutched tightly in both hands. The dwarf waited for what he expected to be a grizzly demise of his newfound companion, but as the ranger closed on the stone monster the dwarf's eye caught a flowing flicker.

Coldyne, the dwarf noticed, flowed now. It was no longer steel, but seemed like a flowing liquid. It was a rolling wave. It was a creature all its own, but submitted to the will of its master.

The stone war-hammer descended. Gilvias made as if he was going to parry the blow, but the stone weapon passed through the liquid of Coldyne. The sword took its solid shape immediately afterward. Using his momentum, Gilvias struck, sending chips of stone ricocheting in every direction.

The stone guardian roared. It sounded like grating rock. The monstrosity took a step back studying the strange little insect before him. The red eyes flared with fury.

"Leaf! Eliniza! Get that door open now!" Gilvias yelled back to them.

Leaf and Eliniza immediately turned to the door to see what they could do to unlock it or smash it in. Dogar hefted up his own war-hammer and started to creep forward to enter the fray. Gilvias, out of the corner of his eye, saw his dwarf friend coming to his aid.

"No, Dogar. Help the others. I will hold this thing off. We must not fail."

Dogar hesitated, not wishing to let the ranger face this thing alone. But, he knew in his heart Gilvias was right. The door must be opened lest they all fall here at the gate of their enemy. Dogar turned and went to the others.

The dwarf pushed the others aside and began smashing at the small door with his war-hammer. He was afraid that with the rhythmic thud there would be a whole garrison of soldiers waiting on the other side if they were lucky enough to get the door open. He had no choice, so he hammered away.

Behind them an epic battle raged. Pit after pit was opened in the sand by the stone guardian's massive war-hammer. Gilvias jumped, rolled, and darted away from the beast as he used the powers of the waysword to inflict damage upon the creature that must have been wrought in the depths of the Abyss. Chips of stone littered the turned sand as Gilvias struck again and again.

But, the ranger's strength and endurance were failing. He did not know how much longer he could hold the stone golem. He spared a quick glance at his friends and his heart soared at the sight of Dogar splintering the door with his mighty hammer.

"Gilvias," The dwarf called. "The way is clear!"

Gilvias started to make for the door, but the stone golem set itself in the path. The monster, realizing that his prey was escaping, grew maddened. It became resolute that it would not let the puny thing it fought escape as well.

"Gilvias come on!" It was Leaf's voice that rose above the din.

Gilvias backed away. He tried to find a clearing to see a path around the hulking beast. As he moved backward his foot gave away. There was no sand there and now he was falling. Gilvias had fallen into one of the pits rent by the stone golem's massive war-hammer.

Leaf saw this and yelled. Gilvias could hear the others' voices now too. Eliniza's was clear above the din. And Dogar was yelling for him to get up.

Gilvias looked up and was staring directly into the fiery red orbs that were the stone creature's eyes. There was a new scream mangled with those of his companions. It was the monster's cry of triumph. The great hammer of the beast rose. Gilvias was able to scream one word before the hammer descended.

"Run!"

Then the hammer fell.

The terrible word hung in the air as the remaining three companions turned and fled through the open doorway. There was no garrison waiting for them. It seemed that their battle with the stone giant went completely unnoticed. Dogar led them now, running down a corridor that vomited them into a large open courtyard.

The courtyard was empty and devoid of life. But it was terrible all the same. To the left rose the watchtower that loomed high above the sea, but before them was something even greater in evil. The height of nearly five men, it was in its splendor of horror. The base was of black stone, which gave way to a solid crystal sphere. Within the sphere was a flowing, oozy liquid that seemed to be once squeezed from the living. But within was the greatest terror.

"So this is why this place is named Skull Palace," Dogar said with his voice chilled.

There, resting and floating in the liquid was a gigantic skull. Across its head moved a massive spider. The spider crawled over the top of the skull. It gave the intruders one look and then crawled away.

The three moved cautiously deeper into the courtyard. Before the Skull, Leaf noticed a staircase leading down into the earth.

"There," Leaf pointed. "We go there."

Eliniza followed the wood nymph's gaze.

"He is right Dogar," she said. "That is our path."

"So, the path to hell is now our path. Perhaps soon we shall meet our fallen friend." Dogar said his voice thick with sorrow.

With that they moved forward to the stairs. They descended about ten steps that led to a steel door. Eliniza reached out and turned the skull shaped handle. It was unlocked. They looked at each other for a long moment, then the Half-Falina princess opened the door and they went through, letting it close behind them. Thus, the companions entered the Abyss, home of the Witch Queen.

The Abyss of the Realm of Korilan

The darkness was overwhelming. The world had seemed to go black. The three companions could not even see each other, though they knew they were in arm's reach.

Leaf began to mumble something. To Dogar the words were inaudible. Eliniza was able to decipher them.

"I will shed a little light in this foul place," Eliniza said. "But I fear it will draw attention to whatever dwells beneath the proper places of the world."

"Do it anyway," Dogar mumbled. "Lest we stand here in the dark until the guards stumble into us."

Then there was quiet. Eliniza's two companions could feel her movement. Then at last there was light from the tip of her staff. Dogar looked at her and saw the tears that stained her face. He lifted a thick finger upward and wiped them away.

"We will have time for that later," he said gently. "But, for now we have greater things to accomplish."

She shook her head and moved forward to lead them. Dogar saw too that Leaf wept and the dwarf put his heavy hand on the wood nymph's shoulder. Leaf looked up. He was small, but a valiant warrior that had known loss before. Dogar knew the little one would be able to continue.

Thus they went on. Before them was a stair that swirled deep into hell below. Slowly they began to descend. Eliniza's light shown into the forbidding darkness that hung heavy like a cloak all around them. Beyond in the distance were great webs that could only have been spun by giant spiders. They had no choice but to continue, for if the spiders noticed them and came upon them they would be lost. But fear had to be conquered, for the fate of the city of Radiance in Colivur and of all of Korilan depended now on their deeds and bravery.

For a long time they were on the stair, but they were fortunate and met no foe. The stair made its way past the kingdom of the spiders to a new world. There was solid ground now, but on that ground there was emptiness. The spiraling stair led down and into that ground.

"This must be the roof of the Witch Queen's dungeon." Dogar said.

"Yes," Eliniza replied. "Now we will learn our true strength. Be brave, my friends. Be brave for our fallen friend and for those of the world that are counting on us."

A shrill ring echoed out into the dark. And in Eliniza's hands were now two flames. One rested on top her staff, and the other was Elisteiri in her sword hand. It was like holy fire leaking across the nothingness.

There was movement now, a small breeze rippling the great webs spun by ancient demons in a world cold and devoid of light and goodness. But in a place of such darkness there should be no wind, nor should it come from many directions. The three were coming close to the end of the stair now that took them away from this section of hell. A few feet from the enclosing entrance they stood when Dogar noticed what was going to befall them.

"Hurry!" The dwarf yelled, caring nothing for silence. "The spiders are upon us!"

Dogar rushed forward in fear and Leaf followed him into the chamber below. Eliniza's blood froze and as her companions fled from the realm of the spiders, she did not. She turned; her left foot on the stair above her and looked upon the doom that came to meet her. Three spiders fell on strings of silk shooting out from their bodies.

It was too late for her to flee, unless she be caught and consumed as she descended. She held her ground, her blood pumping feverishly through her veins. In her right hand she raised the Staff of Elginii and in her left was Elisteiri held out to her side.

The flame of Elginii burned brighter and its brilliance reflected upon her Falina forged blade. She was red-white like a burning star, for the holy fire burned all around her like a protective circle. She was an emissary of Tevindal's Light in deepest depths of Devindal's dungeons.

The spiders did not slow, for hunger for fresh flesh was upon them. They came closer and closer to the Half-Falina princess, but her fear was gone now replaced by resolute redemption for her own soul before her grizzly demise. An ear-piercing yell emerged from her body as they came within striking distance. The fiery globe about her pulsed and a shock wave emitted itself.

The shock wave was of absolute power and the two nearest spiders were incinerated, their ashes tumbling slowly below. The third spider slowed and looked curiously upon her. The light that had entered its unholy domain angered the spider's many eyes. But the monster noticed the light was not as bright as before.

Eliniza felt weakened by the emitting blast that had come from the force around her. Two of her foes had been defeated, but one still remained and she still believed it to be more than her match. She did her best not to waver for she saw the hunger in the creature's eyes and knew she stood alone in the darkness.

The spider sprung at her. Its hairy black legs were like small tree trunks covered in hundreds of sharp needles. Two of the spider's legs shot forward penetrating her fiery ring, but Elisteiri was there flashing twice. The sword moved like it was possessed, a burning stave of ancient sharp steel. One of the legs retracted from the sting, the other was cleaved at its joint.

"The Fire of Tevindal is about me, foul beast. Lady Laevindal's eyes penetrate this foul darkness. She sees all. She lends me her strength. You will not defeat me!"

The light around Eliniza grew. It started slowly but grew until it carried a heat of great intensity. The spider began to back away. Eliniza would not let it.

"Shall you flee? You foul carrion of Gorthar. Sharp steel shall be your just reward here in the great hall of your master. No more webs shall you spin. No more days in your created darkness shall you enjoy. To the Abyss and the Void I shall send you! Tu Terrin en poul Tu Elisteiri!"

Eliniza came like the thunder and the wind. Up the stairs she ascended. In her eyes there was a burning fire. The spider tried to flee upwards but it was halted. Elisteiri flashed, severing the silk web that was the beast's escape.

The spider fell and landed on the staircase above the Half-Falina. She was possessed and full of fury. The spider struck out with its front legs. One hit the princess leaving small amounts of blood on her right shoulder. The price of the spider's small victory was costly. Two of its legs were sliced from its body by the fire of the sword of ancient Falina make.

The dark creature knew now that all was lost. It tried to bound up the narrow stairs. The spider was too wide to make a quick enough ascent. Eliniza was given the unprotected flank of her foe. She moved swiftly forward and through the power of Elisteiri and the Staff of Elginii she slew the great spider and it tumbled and falling from the stair it entered the Void.

Then the light around Eliniza receded. And faltering like a snuffed out candle the darkness became the ancient chamber's master. Eliniza rested upon the stair, alone in a world of darkness, but no foe dared an attempt on her in her wariness. For other foul eyes had watched the angel on the stair in her fury, and none that had seen it wished for any part of it.

Voices were now carried up from below. They were the voices of Eliniza's companions and they were full of awe and shame. The voices became louder as their keepers came closer. A small hand touched Eliniza's shoulder and helped her to her feet.

"Dear lady, are you alright?" The voice asked sheepishly.

It was the voice of Leaf. And in the wood nymph's eyes there was sadness and a look of terror. His eyes went from the Half-Falina to the darkness around them.

"Let us leave this place and quick," he said. "There is light in the chamber below. Quick! I think we are coming closer to our journey's end."

Eliniza regained her feet and leaned heavily upon her staff. She checked her surroundings. Leaf was smiling up at her. The wood nymph's fear and guiltiness forgotten, glad only that his friend was well. She looked to Dogar, but saw only the dwarf's back.

He would not meet her eyes she knew. The dwarf was ashamed on what he had done, when his purpose with Eliniza was to protect her at all costs, as he had sworn. Eliniza felt no anger, only pity for her trusted friend. She should have fled too, but fate had stepped in and barred her path.

"Lead the way, Leaf," Eliniza said.

The wood nymph did not wait for any more commands as he bounded down the stair to the chamber below. Eliniza took a step forward and grasped Dogar's shoulder as he attempted to descend without having to meet her gaze. Dogar stiffened, awaiting the lashing at his fallen pride that he expected the princess to make.

"It is okay, my old friend," she gently whispered into his ear. "You figured me to be right behind you."

"I failed you," Dogar said with his voice full of grief. "I left you to be eaten by those monsters. I can never regain my pride and worth."

"That is where you are wrong," said Eliniza jokingly. "Unfortunately, I believe there will be many opportunities to regain both your pride and worth in the very near future."

Dogar snorted. Eliniza took it as Dogar laughing at the grim path they held. She knew the dwarf would pull it together. He had no choice.

Dogar led the way down into the chamber below. It was a simple and empty place carved from the underwater rock long ago. Nothing occupied the chamber, save the metal door that led to the beyond.

Leaf, seeing that they were all there, moved to the door to open it. Dogar moved Leaf aside and started to examine the door.

"Got to make sure there are no traps first," the grizzled dwarf said. "Besides, we need a warrior leading this party not some little tree squirrel," said Dogar laughing.

"Hey, I'm not a tree squirrel!" said Leaf. "I'm a wood nymph and I come from a family line of heroes."

"Both of you knock it off," came Eliniza. She noticed that both seemed to enjoy the small quips at each other. For both Leaf and Dogar hid a small smile on their faces.

"It is unlocked and there are no traps. Are we ready to proceed?" asked the dwarf.

Both pairs of eyes turned back to Eliniza. She did not return the stares, but looked straight at the door. She thought of her people back home. She thought of the people of Radiance. She thought of Gilvias, now fallen into ruin in the clutches of the Void. She could not fail, for the hopes of Korilan rested upon her shoulders and those of her two companions.

"We are," she barely whispered. "Open the door."

Dogar followed her order and the door slowly opened revealing the blackness beyond.

The Dungeon

The black shadows of the deep dungeon beyond were quickly dispersed. The light of the Staff of Elginii burned low, dimly lighting the graven darkness. The three moved forward slowly, their weapons out, prepared to deal with any evil that may befall them.

The chamber they had entered was wide, but apparently empty. The ground was hard stone covered with dust and debris. On the walls were the webs of spiders, but they were of normal size, not those of the monstrosities they had found above. Everything seemed the color of gray slate.

They moved forward slowly, together. Dogar took the lead with Leaf close by his side. Eliniza walked behind both of them with her staff's light emitting from behind her protectors. The dwarf carried his war-hammer as if he would strike at any moment. Leaf fingered the hilt of Thorn-Biter, letting this action consume his nervousness.

Twenty feet up, the chamber narrowed due to a wall that spanned almost the entire chamber. The wall left only a small gap about five feet wide. After the heroes had passed through the gap, the chamber went back to its previous size.

The floor was riddled with cracks and fissures here. Broken fragments of stones littered the floor. The walls seemed to have crumbled in random places. Rusted shards of metal were also evident on the floor.

"There must have been a battle here," Leaf whispered.

"Keep your voice down," the dwarf grumbled. "Or perhaps they will hear us and there will be another battle here."

Leaf sank his head for a moment, embarrassed. His embarrassment did not last long, for the gravity of Dogar's words put him too much on edge.

"If there is a battle," the wood nymph whispered, "then we shall prevail."

The dwarf looked over at him, but in place of his grumpy demeanor gleamed pride from his eyes. A heavy hand patted Leaf on his back and the would-be saviors of Korilan moved onward.

As they crept forward they noticed before them a small doorway. No door stood connected to the open archway that was of curved stone. From the opening a dim light flickered. It was an echo of light pulsating from an unknown source. They moved slowly now towards it and Eliniza let her staff dim until its light became extinguished.

The air felt heavier here, like a blanket of foreboding that worked to smother them. They came closer, with the only sounds being the shuffle of their feet and the clink of rhythmically dripping water that continued somewhere in the unseen distance. Dogar peered into the doorway, first seeing only a small corridor that led to a larger chamber from where the light emerged. He slowly moved forward to enter the corridor. The others cautiously followed.

The corridor led them about twenty yards before reaching another archway. Hefting his war-hammer, Dogar slowly peered into the adjacent chamber. What he saw he guessed to be a once magnificent chamber, but had since fallen into decay and ruin. In each of the four corners of the chamber was a great stone pillar that extended to the high ceiling above. A fifth column at the chamber's center had since fallen and its remains were twisted and broken upon the floor.

At the room's back center wall stood a mighty statue of a figure unknown to the dwarf. The statue's arms were before it, and in its hands was a large stone bowl where a small pyre burned with a flickering reddish golden light. The dwarf scanned the rest of the chamber and saw two doors and another smaller statue. The first door was on the back center wall, the other was located on the left wall. The smaller statue stood near the first door and was of a mighty human warrior.

"Great," Dogar muttered back to his companions. "More statues. Hope these don't come to life as the other one did."

"Shall we enter?" Eliniza asked.

"Yes. It's now or we stand here until the Witch completes her dirty work," Dogar replied.

"Do either of you know what her Well looks like or how it works?" Leaf asked curiously.

"No," responded Eliniza. "But I am sure we are to find out by our quest's end. For good or evil."

With that, silence enveloped them and they moved slowly into the chamber beyond. Dogar moved slowly forward. His eyes moved back and forth frantically looking for traps or danger. Leaf came in close behind, his small wooden looks seemed strange in an underwater world carved from stone, but he appeared heroic nonetheless. Eliniza came last, with the bright steel of Elisteiri in her hand. She stopped dead and gasped.

"The Bowl of Mabaslu," she quietly breathed.

The others turned and looked at her in surprise.

"I understand now," she said to herself. Looking to her companions, she continued, "this place was not originally built by evil hands, but by the followers of Mabaslu, the God of Waters after the War of the Gods. It was said that the Three Pendants of the Water God's power were kept here. The ancient tales never revealed the palace's hiding place. Never did I ever dream that it was here in the Realm of Korilan."

"Three Pendants?" Leaf asked. "I thought we were looking for one, not three."

"The Witch Queen's servants must have only recovered one of the three," Eliniza replied. "Which of the pendants she has found, I have no idea. But the three were scattered and hidden many years ago after this palace was defeated and the faithful of the God of Waters dispersed. The pendants were called the Sapphire Pendant, the Pendant of Dark Flame, and the Pendant of Silver Ice. How they work, I do not know. But it is said that Mabaslu will need them when the Trumpet of Doom is sounded at the time of Rantarok."

"And if he does not have all three?" Leaf asked.

"Then there will be an imbalance on the Cosmic Field," Dogar replied.

"Then our mission is more dire than we thought," said Eliniza. "For our world is not the only one that hangs in the balance in this matter. If the Witch Queen has found one pendant, she may be searching for the other two."

"Then which door do we choose?" asked the dwarf.

Eliniza looked about the room and saw the two doorways out of the chamber. One was shut and had a statue of a mighty warrior before it and the other was open with nothing blocking its way.

"I say we take the easier path first," Eliniza said.

"Good, I was thinking the same thing," added Leaf.

The three moved across the debris-filled chamber to the open doorway. Peering in, Dogar saw another hallway that led to a chamber beyond. The hall was narrow, wide enough for only one at a time. He quietly moved into the hall with the others coming up behind him.

They moved slowly and silently down the corridor to the new chamber's opening. The chamber was lit by dim flickering torchlight and the grunts of a goblinoid language could be heard. Dogar turned to his companions and with a low voice told them that he believed that the room contained three creatures that were orc, goblin, or bugbear. Eliniza slowly moved in front of Leaf, her staff and sword held before her.

"Let us slay them quickly," she whispered into the dwarf's ear venomously.

"Agreed," Dogar replied fingering his war-hammer.

The three charged in the room with no cries of battle and were on their foes before they knew what was truly taking place. The two orcs in the forefront of the room stood and met the frenzied charge of Eliniza and Dogar, while the bugbear at the back stood slowly hefting up a massive mace. Leaf somersaulted past his friends and rolled to a standing position before the bugbear. The beast snarled and laughed, knowing that he may fall today but before he did he would crush the little thing before him.

The sounds of battle rang loudly throughout the chamber as the wood nymph and bugbear faced each other. The two races were ancient enemies on the Realm of Korilan. For centuries had the bugbear tribes fought wars against the wood nymphs to enslave them. That ancient hatred burned in both sets of eyes, but the bugbear was the first one to break the spell and his spiked mace descended like a lightning bolt at the stunned Leaf.

Leaf raised Thorn-Biter at the last moment, but the impact threw him from his feet. Behind Leaf there was the sound of gurgling as Eliniza rammed Elisteiri through the gut of an orc. The creature's black blood poured out upon the floor. She pulled out her sword from the orc's midsection and the thing fell to its knees. Eliniza aided its demise by using her sword to sweep off its head.

Dogar fought fiercely against his opponent. The orc swung a massive axe in arcs against the slower but sturdier dwarf. Dogar Stonecrusher moved quickly on his feet parrying the blows. The dwarf taunted the orc as it attacked.

The creature became enraged and swung harder and more rapidly. The orc quickly wore itself out. Dogar was patient and when the weary orc left an opening in its defense the dwarf took it. Dogar's war-hammer flung forward with one powerful and deadly stroke. The chamber echoed with the sound of crushing bones and pulverized flesh.

Eliniza and Dogar turned their attention to their last foe. The mighty bugbear stood over Leaf now. The wood nymph was defenseless. Thorn-Biter had been knocked from Leaf's hands and had skidded to the far side of the chamber.

A sadistic grin broke the furry face in two as it raised its heavy mace to smash its enemy at its feet. Anticipatory drool leaked from the monster's mouth onto his victim below.

"Mygar smash you now twig from the west." Mygar, the bugbear, said in broken common.

Mygar's mace descended. Leaf yelped as his doom rapidly approached. But doom was halted. The haft of Dogar's war-hammer stayed the fatal blow.

Mygar looked up at the dwarf. The bugbear's eyes leaked venom and his smile of carnage delight turned to a deathly stare. But the expression on the Mygar's face soon changed again, this time to shock. And the visage of shock eternally remained there as Eliniza withdrew Elisteiri out from the bugbear's spine.

The bugbear fell in death quickly to the floor. It was there that the heroes let him stay as they went quickly to tend to their friend. Eliniza dropped Elisteiri and went quickly to her knees. She propped up the small wood dwelling nymph.

"Leaf, are you hurt?" The Half-Falina asked.

Leaf shook his head no. "I thought I was about to die," Leaf said. "I thought the last thing I was going to see in this life was that monster hovering over me before he dashed open my skull."

"Well, I am sure nothing would have come out of it," Dogar said in a gruff tone. Both Eliniza and Leaf's heads jerked in the dwarf's direction with surprise written on their faces. Dogar let loose a hefty laugh.

"You obviously must be a dimwitted fool to somersault like that into a bugbear's lap," Dogar said letting loose another laugh.

"Hey, I thought it was mighty brave of me to do that," Leaf responded. The wood nymph seemed over his fear, but was now intent on regaining his pride. Dogar laughed a third time seeing that his plan of erasing the terror his friend had just suffered was working.

"Oh, it was brave alright," Dogar quipped. "But so often bravery and lunacy means the same thing."

Leaf scowled at the dwarf, which only caused Dogar's smile to grow. The dwarf reached down and extended his hand. Leaf took it and was pulled from the floor. The dwarf looked long at Leaf, laughed, then moved away.

Eliniza had already begun to search the room to see if anything of value could be found. Dogar and Leaf joined her. Leaf soon discovered rotted fragments of previous dinners. What disgusting dishes they had been, he did not know. Eliniza found nothing of use either. It was Dogar who found something that seemed tangible to keep.

"Over here," the dwarf motioned to his companions. "It seems this mess of hair maybe had something of value after all. It surely wasn't his life," Dogar smirked. Dogar bent forward and ripped a slender chain from the bugbear's neck. On the end of the chain hung a small silver key. The key was dull and encrusted with filth.

"Bah! Such a foul thing," Dogar said as he kicked the dead owner of the key. "Let us be gone from this wretched place. I never thought I would crave the light of the sky when underground."

Taking the key they went forth from the chamber. And moving down the corridor they came back to the resting place of Mabaslu's Bowl. Something seemed different in the room from the last time they had been there only minutes before. All sensed the strange sensation that radiated from the place.

"Something's different," Leaf said, looking about the chamber trying to soak in all the details at once. His eyes darted, checking the walls, the floor, and the pillars. He could not place what had changed. He began to wonder if perhaps the fire in the bowl burned dimmer or brighter than it had before. He came to the conclusion that it had not changed. Eliniza and Dogar looked at each other and both shrugged their shoulders not being able to come to a conclusion on what was different.

They both turned as Leaf gasped. "The warrior statue," the wood nymph exclaimed in a voice very close to panic. "It's gone!"

Dogar's eyes flashed across the chamber seeing too that the great statue of the warrior was missing. He moved forward, pushing Leaf back and stopped Eliniza's forward movement with one glare of his eyes. "Stay here," he commanded. He knew he had been a coward beforehand and now was the time to regain some of his honor.

If the statue had come to life as had the sentry at the gate and still remained in the chamber, there was only one place it could be lying in wait for them. Dogar crept nearer to the collapsed pillar that lay in diagonal fashion across the shattered stone of the floor. And inching forward he crept closer to a doom that he knew to be waiting him. In his heart he felt something grow. As it grew, he became fierce and full of wrath. For Dogar knew that he would most likely fall in these halls beneath the flowing sea.

Then coming to the fallen pillar he reached out and grabbed it. He forced himself up and over the crumbling stone and as he landed he came face to face with something that was no longer stone or statue. A great warrior there was crouched hidden in the shadow of the stone. Its skin was ruddy and thick, like leather. It stretched tightly across powerfully built muscles that rippled as the behemoth stood, slowly.

A helmeted mask of dull iron hid the warrior's face. It was shaped like that of a ram's skull and had curling horns that wrapped and twirled backward. Upon the visor was a shield for the eyes, some kind of transparent guard that allowed the thing behind the mask to have vision. But, for those that looked upon the helm saw the eyes as only have been painted a red that appeared as dried blood.

The warrior wore little armor. He had upon his hands gauntlets of the same dulled color of iron as the helm. But across his left shoulder was strapped plated steel, which was adorned with sharp spikes. He hefted up a massive domed shield in his left hand, and its crest was the terrible image of the helm that the warrior wore upon its head. But, in the beast's other hand he wielded a heavy sword.

Foul words of dark speech then emanated from behind the mask. The voice rumbled with a thundering deepness that could have had its source from the crevice of the Abyss in the darkest depths of the sea. The masked warrior moved its head forward, peering at Dogar, as if it was awaiting an answer.

Dogar did not respond. Words again came from behind the mask and they were full of fierce anger. These words were of evil make, labored and crafted in such dark depths that the mere mortal mind would be broken by the nightmares that came from such use and learning. Of the speech, one word was the dwarf able to discern. And that word was Myr.

Then did Dogar answer the speech of the enemy and it was done with the strength of his arm and his hammer. The blow fell like a millstone, heavy and full of power. But the strike was stayed. For the mighty sword of the enemy was swift and true. The blade dipped and caught under the head of the hammer. Then the two stood and stared at each other, and there was great hatred.

The enemy in the great hall of the Bowl of Mabaslu moved back, releasing the hold upon Dogar's hammer. Then the enemy laughed, and it was hideous and sounded like the grating of stone. In the shroud of that terrible sound that was joy of great evil, the enemy named himself. And he is called Nibgilous.

Nibgilous then came forward with great speed. His sword was swift and the strokes bore the power of a demon trained in the arts of war in the deeps of hell. But, Dogar was not a novice to ways of combat. For his people lived deep in the mountains and their lives were built around an endless war of protecting against the dark paths that rose up from the cracks of the Abyss. And the dwarf defended himself, even though he was driven back.

But, Dogar's friends were stayed. For they would be no match for the fury of Nibgilous, and Dogar wished for them to take no part of the deadly contest. So the dwarf fought alone, his back against fallen stone. In his mind he became resolved to find victory, even though he knew he was outmatched.

Dogar then struck a mighty blow, which was blocked by the great shield of Nibgilous. But the fury of the strike shattered the demon's shield arm and rendered it useless. The shield fell and its great weight landed and crushed the foot of Nibgilous. A roar of pain was lifted up in the sacred chamber that had long ago been defiled by the foulness of Devindal. The Hammer of Stonecrusher struck at Nibgilous again, and he lost his balance and fell.

It was then that Dogar found his chance. With the ill luck of his enemy beseeched upon him, Dogar moved forward. Then standing above a demon wrought in darkness Dogar let loose a mighty cry of triumph. The war-hammer forged long ago by Dogar's kin descended. The blow that the dwarf dealt to the demon was cruel and unforgiving, for the ram's helm was cracked and broken and the skull and flesh within was turned to gore.

Dogar stood still, looking at his diminished enemy. The dwarf knew he had won a great victory, but he for some reason felt at a loss. And as he watched the spreading of the dark fluid of his mighty foe he came to a conclusion. That soon, very soon, he shall look like his fallen foe, that it would be his blood that spreads across the crumbled stone, and that all his victories in this quest would then be in vain.

He shook these thoughts away as his companions came to his side. They stood beside him and Eliniza smiled down at him, placing her gentle hand on his armored shoulder. "You fought bravely, dear Dogar, protector of the Royal House of Koarathandor," she said. "Here in the chamber of the Bowl of Mabaslu, you have regained your honor that you believed was lost on the stair of the spiders."

The dwarf looked up at the Half-Falina princess he had long ago sworn to protect. He nodded to her, though his shame was still evident, even if less present. Dogar spoke no words, but turned and moved towards the door. Leaf and Eliniza followed.

Dogar took the key and placed into the lock. He turned the key slowly and a low click sounded, telling the dwarf the door had been unlocked. Dogar looked back at his companions and slowly pushed the door open. The three of them moved forward into the waiting chamber. They closed the door. None saw the shadow flicker in the corridor behind them.

The chamber Dogar led them into was simple. The walls and floor were of gray stone and there was another doorway on the far side of the room. Leaf moved forward, not wishing to waste any time moving closer to the Witch's lair. Eliniza stood still with a troubled look on her face. Dogar did not remain motionless.

In a quick movement that seemed too fast for his stature, Dogar violently grabbed the wood nymph and flung him backwards. Leaf struck hard against the wall, with Thorn-Biter tumbling from his hand onto the dusty stone floor. Leaf shook his head to clear the stars that danced before his eyes and glared angrily at the dwarf.

"Do I look like an ugly bald-headed orc to you, beard face?" Leaf spat at Dogar. Dogar only raised a hand at him to signify quiet. Leaf huffed; his face growing redder that the dwarf had first manhandled him and now had the nerve to shush him too. Leaf regained his feet and his sword and moved stormily in the dwarf's direction.

Leaf was stopped a second time. This time it was in a gentler manner. Eliniza placed her had on Leaf's shoulder. Though the hand did not hold restraining power, its presence demanded obedience. To this, Leaf complied and without any objections.

"This room has a trap," Dogar said, breaking the silence.

"Yes, I felt it too." Eliniza replied.

Dogar nodded and Leaf looked at both of them with big eyes. Dogar drew a dagger and tossed it to the center of the chamber. The dagger hit the stone floor. The blade bounced once then was swallowed as the chamber's floor opened up revealing a great pit that ended in a floor of spikes. The pit was circular shaped, leaving only a small amount of room against the walls to go around it. Amongst the spikes were many old skeletons of the unfortunate.

Dogar slowly turned his head and looked at Leaf. The wood nymph's eyes grew even larger looking at the death pit before him. Leaf met Dogar's gaze and nodded his head once in shocked thanks. Dogar returned the nod and Eliniza took her hand from Leaf's shoulder. The wood nymph almost collapsed.

"We go about the rim. Stay as close to the wall as possible. Don't slip." Dogar said.

The dwarf moved first. He moved slowly around the lip of the pit. But, the dwarf was more graceful than he appeared and he was soon safely to the other side. Eliniza went next. She made the trip quickly and safely to the far side without even a glimpse on her face that one wrong step would send her to a grisly doom.

Leaf was a long time coming. For many moments he stood paralyzed. His eyes were downcast to the pointed steel of the spikes below. His mind replayed over and over the deadly wounds he would have suffered if Dogar had not stopped him from proceeding. From across the pit the dwarf growled and tapped his foot impatiently.

"I'm coming," Leaf said. "Just give me a moment. I was almost down there with the others!" Leaf exclaimed, pointing adamantly to the skeletons.

"I'm going to toss you down there with them if you do not hurry up!" Dogar grumbled.

Leaf mumbled something the dwarf could not make out. Eliniza clearly heard what was said and put a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. The wood nymph made his way across, but not without theatrics and overplay of slipping in the pit. Dogar did nothing but shake his head. Eliniza smiled only with her eyes.

Soon he was across the lip of the pit and all three stood safely on the other side of the chamber. A door stood shut against them on the wall that they now faced. Eliniza went swiftly to it and listened. Dogar watched her as she frowned.

"I do not hear much, but I sense great evil. This may be the Witch's lair. Ready yourselves then, for beyond this door we may find death, but we must also find victory," Eliniza said.

Dogar looked at the Half-Falina princess protectively, while Leaf seemed to swallow something caught in his throat. "Then let this be done," growled the dwarf. He moved forward and opened the door, he passed through it and his companions followed.

The Witch and the Lake of Fire

As they entered the great chamber, rolling heat blasted them. The chamber spread out before them with six stone pillars obstructing their view. Wafts of hot haze drifted up from the floor nearly fifty feet before them. The companions moved forward slowly, weapons drawn, as they came around the pillars to see the rest of the chamber.

Lying on the stone floor lay several decayed bodies. Most were without flesh. These dead seemed to have been there for centuries, but there was something that Eliniza and Dogar both noticed. The weapons that lay next to the skeletons had not been touched by rust or age, but were sharp and bright.

The three had their gaze taken away from the skeletons as they peered forward. Before them at the center of the chamber was a stone bridge that separated the two halves of the room. The bridge curved and slithered like a snake to the other side. It was the only safe passage over the boiling lake of the blood-red molten fire below.

A solitary shape stood on the other side watching them. It was a woman. Her skin and hair were black, but that was not her natural color. It was the darkness of taint and corruption, and the foulness of selling one's soul to Devindal.

The three invaders stood staring at their unwilling hostess. The Witch peered back, her hands still hovering over a stone well from which a green fume emerged. The Witch's gaze seemed focused on only one of the three, and that was Eliniza. Eliniza broke off the stare and looked above the unholy keeper of this once holy place. Hanging above the well, as if by invisible strings, was a shining pendant.

"The pendant," Eliniza whispered mostly to herself.

Her companions heard and their eyes shifted quickly to the prize they had sought. The Witch too seemed to hear what was said and her head moved slowly that she too could look upon the coveted token. The dark woman turned her gaze back to the intruders of her foul hall.

"You have come just in time to watch your demise," the Witch said with a voice that was surprisingly pleasant. "And as this world withers away from the destruction of the Pendant of Silver Ice within my Well, others too will falter. For the other two Pendants of Mabaslu's Bowl are being sought by the agents of my master and he will find ways to make their demise become the destruction of other worlds."

"Your master?" Eliniza asked incredulously. The Half-Falina's eyes darted to her friends then back to the Witch. They were full of shock and fear. Her mind raced, thinking that the Witch's forces were bad enough, but if there was a greater power moving her hand?

"Who is your master?" Eliniza demanded.

The princess received laughter as her response. It was gentle, which made it all the more eerie. There was also something very familiar to that laugh, Eliniza thought, but she did not dwell on it.

"I guess it does not hurt to tell? No, I suppose not." the Witch said, answering her own question. "My master is the Emissary of Devindal."

"Scourge," Dogar growled as he hefted his war-hammer up and made for the bridge.

"Oh no, my dwarf, that is quite far enough," the Witch said. "I grow tired of this and I have much work to be done to poison the waters of this world, so that all of your friends will die a most horrible death."

Even from the distance, Leaf, Dogar, and Eliniza could tell she smiled.

"Now, it is time for you to die," the Witch said with finality.

She muttered words they could not hear and motioned with her hands. Beams of greenish light sprang forth, coming near the three companions waiting across the bridge. The three ducked, thinking the beams were meant to consume them. All missed their supposed mark.

Eliniza was first to look up. She peered at Dogar and the mighty dwarf looked back at her and shrugged. Leaf too, was up and moving. Eliniza then looked to the Witch. She paid them no heed as she continued with some spell that was long and complicated to cast.

"She doesn't seem to care that we are still here," Eliniza said in disbelief.

An answer to her statement came, but it was not from any of her companions. Screeches and scraping filled the hall. The three looked around to see the skeletons they had passed now rising. They all bore weapons of excellent make and as they stood to their full height it was clear that they had once been something much larger than any human.

"They are all around us!" Leaf screamed.

Eliniza and her friends put their backs to one another as four monstrous skeletons made way to them. The group was cut off from the way they had come and the bridge too was blocked, for a skeleton had risen to bar the way to the Witch Queen. Eliniza looked to her friends and saw the panic and desperation on their faces. She knew now was the time for strength and courage, even though she felt she had little of either.

"For our friends!" she yelled. "For Radiance! For Korilan!"

Elisteiri whipped in a blur. The blade's sharp steel hummed as it descended towards its nearest foe.

"For the Woll Woods! For Raxis!" Leaf yelled, echoing Eliniza.

Leaf ducked low and let his treesword arc to the exposed legs of the skeleton that bore down on him.

Dogar cried no mantra, but instead roared with such intensity that columns of the chamber seemed to shake. His war-hammer Gololdye came down and smashed into the shield of the one who held the bridge. The bronze shield rang out like a bell as it cracked down the center, falling rent and ruined to the stone surface.

Then the hall was filled with the sound of chaos. The dead things that moved to engage them bore immense power. Though their vocal cords had long ago rotted away, they still spoke, but in the ways of screeching horror. The sound of it was ear piercing, but the would be heroes of the realm had no choice but to ignore it.

The clashing of steel echoed shrilly throughout the hall. The heroes fought bravely, but it was clear to them that they were outmatched. Gololdye smashed into the leg of the skeleton on the bridge. The bone shattered, flinging fragments in a shower of white chips. The dead creature toppled. It fell screaming and was swallowed by the liquid fire below.

Dogar turned to the others. "The way is clear! Hurry! To the Witch Queen!" he yelled.

But, as he yelled he saw that he distracted Eliniza in the hope that they could engage the demon of this dungeon. Her eyes turned away from the two monsters she fought and looked at the dwarf. Dogar saw her flank exposed and watched helplessly as a spear plunged forward, unopposed, making to sink into her soft flesh.

Dogar's mouth would not work. It moved but emitted no sound. He waited for the blow that would take her life. Then there was a moment where time seemed to stop.

As the spear inched closer to its destination there was a flicker of a shadow and a beam of what seemed to be flowing silver liquid. Then the shadow stopped and the liquid became solid and sharp steel stood true. The spear was deflected and once again the silver became liquid and it passed through the skeleton's broad shield and hardened at the other side, cutting the monster in two.

Dogar looked to he who held the sword, as did Eliniza and Leaf. And standing there defiantly, wrapped in a tattered green cloak, stood Gilvias Oakstar. The three opened their mouths at once to ask questions, but they were answered before they found their voices.

"Fight, you fools!" Gilvias said to them.

Their wits returned to them and Eliniza, seeing the bridge was open, turned and fled to it. Dogar charged passed her and engaged the foe she had stood against. Leaf backed up to the mouth of the bridge to defend it, as Gilvias confronted Leaf's former opponent.

Now, the Witch Queen looked up from her dark doings and saw Eliniza slowly approaching across the Lake of Fire. The Witch Queen looked angrily at Eliniza and then back to her Well. She gave up on her concoction and spell and moved slowly toward the bridge. The Witch Queen came a few paces onto the bridge and stopped. Eliniza stopped her advance as well.

They stood there face to face, ignoring the clash of weapons that rang out behind them. Eliniza was determined, but breathing hard. Her fierce look gave the Witch pause as the demoness looked her over and perceived her strength. Eliniza studied her foe as well, and in doing so discovered a truth that haunted and startled her.

"You are a Half-Falina of Koarathandor," Eliniza breathed heavily. "You are one of my kin."

"So it seems," the Witch Queen replied. "I was once Dellia Koarathandor of the Realm of Korilan, long before you entered the world. It is ironic, is it not? That those of the same ancestry will decide the fate of this world. I desired power. I left home and on my travels. I met a man who taught me much. The man is known by many names, but you know him as Scourge," the Witch Queen said with a smile.

"Enough," Eliniza could take no more. "I did not come here to mince words with a Dread Lord underneath the surface of the world!"

From the Staff of Elginii a light grew at its tip. It was bright, but held no color. Elisteiri caught the growing light and soon burned with a bright fire. The smile that had touched the Witch Queen's lips slid away and was replaced with a mask of horror. Her features had grown hideous and grotesque.

The Witch raised her hands and two beams shot forth from her fingertips. A flame from Eliniza's staff intercepted the beams, erasing them from existence. The Witch Queen sneered, "You have no power that is superior to mine!" More beams and lances of fire erupted from the creature's black hands.

Eliniza defended herself from all the forms of the Witch's attacks. Her staff shot-forth protective fire, and Elisteiri blocked spells down into the fire below. "You are right, fallen Falina. I may not be as powerful as you, nor have I had training from demons. But, I have aid." And as in answer, a soft melody floated over the din of battle. It could be barely heard by the combatants, but it was heard.

"No," the Witch Queen whispered. "She cannot be here."

"She is," Eliniza replied. Then the battle on the bridge raged on, and it did not last long.

The Finding of the Pendant and the New Quest...

The skeleton warriors crumbled to piles of bones with the death of their master. The three warriors turned as one and looked to the bridge where Eliniza had done battle. It was empty. Eliniza now stood on the other side next to the Witch Queen's Well. She stood looking up at the pendant floating above the concoction of doom.

"The Pendant of Silver Ice," she whispered to herself.

"You may take it," a female voice said.

Eliniza and her companions turned suddenly, looking for the speaker. Their response was met by gentle laughter. Behind Eliniza a bright glimmer began to grow until there was a vision of a beautiful woman. Eliniza gasped and went to her knees. Her companions who had crossed the bridge joined her.

"I have been with you a long time, Eliniza," the visage said. "I have aided my strength to yours to help you grow. All of you have completed a brave deed. Radiance and Korilan will be saved. Even now the armies of the Witch Queen are in dissolution with her death. Her spell is broken, the Pendant is saved."

"But, the Witch Queen spoke true. Even now the agents of Scourge are moving to secure the other two pendants. He must not be successful. The loss of one pendant may be enough to weaken Tevindal's forces at Rantarok. And Scourge has his own dark plans for the Realms of Confusion. Do not underestimate him."

"I will no longer be able to aid you. You must all go on alone to find the other two pendants. The Sapphire Pendant is located somewhere in the world of Corthan. Where the other hides, I do not know."

Beside the vision of the Goldenflower a blue glowing door began to take shape. It hung on nothingness. Its corners were perfect and the companions knew it was a portal to another world. They could see a forest glade on the other side.

"Take this path to Corthan. The pendant is hidden somewhere in the middle of the world. Go, and may Tevindal bless you all," with that said she faded and was seen no more.

The warriors stared at where the spirit of Breina Goldenflower had been while Eliniza grabbed the Pendant of Silver Ice. Eliniza came to them and stared long at Gilvias.

"How?" her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I will tell you on the other side, Meldina." He replied.

She smiled and took his hand, and together the four heroes stepped through the portal to Corthan beyond.

The wind blew its breath as the ship crossed the crests of the Sapphire Sea. The bow of the ship lifted and sank, as it cut the churning waves leaving only white foam in its wake. The light from the Tower of Sunrise shown its brilliance brightly as the light reached its zenith before the descent and submission of power to the Tower of Sunset.

Wave Dancer was a sturdy vessel, cut and fashioned by the elves from the tall golden trees that stood near their old home in Mistborne Forest. Its sides were white like those heavenly clouds that floated on unseen currents across the realm of the sky. And its rim was golden from the echoes of the trees and was trimmed with silver. A tall mast stood like a beacon of hope to those who beheld it. Tall it was and ho! It had about it an unfurled banner of yellow gold, like the breaking of dawn on the eastern horizon.

The banner caught the whispering breeze and filled with majestic pride. Its emblem a round golden gem that paid homage to the Ball of Light that was, long ago. At the edges were hints of rubies and sewn emeralds that flashed like pulsating fire with each striking of a beam from the Towers of Twilight.

But, this ship held more than majestic makings. It held a crew of great renown, which had long ago embarked on a desperate mission. Though their goal was before them, it was hidden in its ultimate destination, and demons crept always, ever closer, to thwarting them.

Upon that vessel, a song went up. And its chorus was the breaking of waves, but the voice that lifted up the tune was tender and soft. The voice was that of a woman, who had long ago forsaken her royal heritage and ventured into the wilderness where she came onto the track of her destiny.

Her words were a mixture of the ancient and common tongues. Her companions sat silently in the haul of the ship and intently listened, enthralled by her every word. The song, which she sung was ancient in its content, and spoke of a wondrous place that was lost long ago in the deep currents of time. Her song was for Thera.

Eliniza's song ended and it seemed that the sound of the sea was that of mourning. Her companions sat looking upon her with tear stained cheeks. There was no shame in their weeping, for the song for the loss of Thera was awe strikingly beautiful in its sadness, and the destruction of such a place of peaceful glory deserved such reverent sorrow.

As she raised her head she was bathed in the dying light of the Tower of Sunset. Its red glow struck out against the gleaming sea and made it as flame. But, as her companions looked up, it was Leaf, a small wood nymph from the Woll Woods of Colivur, which spotted the ancient temple rising out of the swallowing sea. He pointed in great excitement, and following his finger they beheld the algae entangled columns, which many were cracked and broken.

Then the ship turned and made its course. And as the dying embers of light filtered out onto a world ready for slumber, the ship reached the edge of the ancient temple. The water seemed to hiss as it flowed over the bases of broken columns, like ravenous foam over barred teeth, and it slipped down the stairs at the open throat to the darkness below. Then did Gilvias rise and drawing Coldyne with one hand he moved forth from the boat to the temple gate. Dogar tossed him a rope and he fastened the ship to the makeshift dock.

Then he looked at his companions and gave them a single nod. He turned then, and looking down to the depths of darkness of the stair that lay still as a swallowing abyss, he breathed deeply. Then his companions stood by his side, and their presence calmed his thoughts of the coming quest, a quest that may determine the destiny of a cosmic battle long predicted, yet longer spoken about with dread.

Gilvias moved closer to the precipice, and though the world faded into darkness as it gave way to the grip of night, a new light did shine. Moving to the ranger's side was a woman of reverence and beauty. Her features were that of antiquity and of ages thought lost to time and the endless depths of the Forever Night Sea. But, she reached out and her gentle fingers grazed the shoulder of the ranger that was once thought lost to the Void. He smiled, and he looked back into her eyes as the Staff of Elginii blazoned the path that most of the party believed to be held by the dead.

The Temple of Sunken Echoes

The stairway descended like a swirling ship stuck in a whirlpool. Salt water slid down the steps to keep the algae covered stones from parching. Long did they take to the stairs, as if night had turned to day and repeated itself a thousand times. There was silence in the depths, but that silence held no qualities, for as far as they could tell it had not revealed to be for good or evil.

Then the stair stopped. The light from the staff slowly ventured out as if unsure. What was revealed was a world cut from stone. An underworld fashioned by some mighty hand, but it did not look the work of Gorthar.

As if a response to the light, there was a shrill ring that called clear out from the darkness of the world below. It rang out once like hammer on stone, or a note from a shrill horn. The four stopped, looking out and listening to this new world. Their hearts beat rapidly as one. All was quiet after the ring, but there seemed to be faint echoes of its announcement.

Gilvias stepped away from the stair; his feet reaching water topped solid stone. His eyes scanned the columns that rose to a ceiling he did not see. The columns were of firm make, and though not decorated, they seemed of great worth. Eliniza joined him, lending her light to his vision. Dogar and Leaf crouched behind them.

The ring called out again. It reverberated across the water and the four felt the water ripple at their feet. Coldyne led the way, with its silvery liquid flashing in the great hall that rested under the sea. Behind Gilvias, Dogar muttered something about how he used to like being in caves.

They did not pause, afraid to tarry in such a place. They moved forward and with each step the ring sounded. It began to increase as they moved through the opening of the first set of columns. The sound was building, and its echoes against the stone were intensifying the sound like a rising chorus.

Then they came forth through another set of columns and the sound of the ringing was joined by a low hum, like a new tone being added to the undersea song. The rippling of the water increased and became small lapping waves. The four moved forward as one, with their weapons bristling out before them.

They came to a third set of columns and knew these to be gates, which they were entering. And the song's echoing grew in its strength and a new layer to the song was added. The playing of tenor notes in a staggered pattern joined the ring and the hum. The four could now feel the pressure of the force waves from the building song, but none knew its purpose or design. They did only what they could, they moved on.

In the distance their own light became stronger, reflecting back to them. The cavern walls were descending and rounding, coming back to meet the stone floor. Dogar was the first to see it, his audible gasp giving away his pleasure at seeing such a grand sight of mystery. There in the shadows stood a sealed gate that was of solid sapphire and was adorned with script lined in flowing silver.

The song became louder and the elements of the song were still there but changed in their procession. Ever closer the four moved to the gate and as they stood before it a triumphant sounding of a dozen horns sang out. The sound was deafening, but held no evil. It was glorious, like the baying of trumpets to welcome home a victorious army.

A light grew from Eliniza's pack and shimmered through the confining fabric. "Meldina," Gilvias gently whispered, and was somehow heard above the song. She reached for her pack and removed the source of the light, the Pendant of Silver Ice. She held the talisman before her and the silvery light from the pendant illuminated the flowing script on the sapphire gate.

The script glowed from the new light and turned frosty in its appearance. A glowing light appeared at the center of the gate. The light stretched from the gate's center to the cavern's ceiling to its floor. Then there was a great boom and the gate slowly moved inward and the song sang out in one last shout, and then was nothing more than fading echoes.

The Tower of Undersea Shadows

"You may enter, bearers of the Pendant," said a deep voice of pristine majestic quality.

Thus they entered a great hall that was dimly lit. As they passed through the open gate, a strange feeling struck them. It seemed to them that a cool, icy current had touched their flesh. They brushed it off as the majesty that lay before them was revealed.

The hall was fashioned from coral and jewels. It radiated a dim light that pulsed a blue and teal green color. The walls were living organisms, complete with great bowls that contained living fish and sea creatures of every kind. The source from the light itself came from star shaped fish that emitted a pale, white glow.

As they stood, fixated on the wonders that were displayed out before them, the gate behind them closed. The four turned as one as the gate boomed, with Dogar moving back to examine its craftsmanship.

"You will find none like it in all the Realms, master dwarf," said the deep voice they had heard moments earlier.

The speaker, they could see, was now visible for he had been behind the door at its opening. At the sight of the gatekeeper, Dogar stumbled backwards grasping for his hammer. The dwarf's eyes had gone wide with shock at the hulking creature that stood before him. Dogar drew back his hammer to strike.

"Hold!"

Dogar stopped, as if enchanted by a spell. But, it was not his potential adversary that had given the command. Eliniza moved forward and gently laid her hand on Dogar's arm. "Hold, my friend," she said in softer tones this time. "We are not among enemies."

Eliniza turned and looked at the creature that had not so much had blinked even though he was close to feeling the wrath of the Hammer of Stonecrusher. Her eyes too, registered shock, but held with it awe and respect for whom she was looking.

"I thank you, one that shares the bloodline of the Falina," the deep voice said in good humor, but without mockery. "Long has it been since I have seen one that has ties with the Ancient Ones and longer since it has been since I have seen the Pendant of Silver Ice. My master will be most pleased."

"Your master," Eliniza whispered softly.

The keeper of the gate nodded in response.

Dogar was less formal and diplomatic with his words. "What are you?"

Now the creature moved, its pride taking over. It moved into the full light and gathered its height, which was thrice that of Dogar. Dogar held his ground, but was visibly intimidated. Behind Gilvias, Leaf let out a low whistle, displaying his own awe of the magnificent beast before them.

"I am the Gatekeeper of the Tower of Undersea Shadows. One of the Muladeen, the protectors of the Realm of the Crystal Blue, and of the honor guard to the Lord of the Waters, the God Mabaslu."

Gilvias looked the Muladeen from head to toe. The creature appeared to wear no natural clothing. In its place were scales of light blue that glittered like ice. The gatekeeper had a chest that seemed the size of an ale barrel and arms the size of a large dwarf.

Gilvias looked down the Muladeen's arms, watching how the scales over the upper arms gave way to yellow fur that covered slender fingers with great metallic claws. Within those claws were clutched a tall javelin that looked like a great fiery flame that had been frozen. Gilvias let his eyes drift to the majestic Muladeen's face.

The prideful eyes looked back at Gilvias. They were round and brown, trimmed in yellow. The eyes held by the entity, should have belonged to a lion, which was a wild creature that Gilvias had heard stories about, but had never seen. The gatekeeper had a mane that was slick with shades of brown and silver, and tied back with a leather cord. A few strands of the mane were loose from the cord, but they were braided, and woven into them were small medals that appeared as if they were military badges.

"You are to be escorted to the hall of my master," the Muladeen said.

With that he reached behind him and retrieved a small conch and softly blew into it. Moving his fingers over small holes purposely placed along the side of the conch, the Muladeen manipulated the tune that the shell played. The song itself was soft, but it bounced off the walls and pools of water in the chamber and moved strongly down the wide corridor.

A moment after the gatekeeper stopped playing, an answering tune made its way back to them.

"A royal escort will be here shortly," the gatekeeper stated.

Stroking his curiosity, Leaf spoke up, "A royal escort? For us?"

The gatekeeper looked at the wood nymph. His composed manner seemed to be at last ruffled somewhat. "You bear one of the lost pendants of Lord Mabaslu. You will be treated with the highest of honors."

Leaf shrugged his shoulders and looked to Dogar. The dwarf mumbled under his breath that hopefully that meant they would feed them. Eliniza placed her hand on the dwarf's shoulder and sternly looked at him. The look caused Dogar to straighten up and compose himself.

"Ah, some of my brothers arrive," the gatekeeper stated.

As quiet as an owl stalking the night, another of the Muladeen warriors appeared from the chamber. None of the party had seen or heard his approach. It was not until the gatekeeper and the escort had saluted each other did the companions notice the other Muladeen that had come as well.

There were two rows of three stationed across from each other along the tranquil walls. They shifted their javelins forming an archway for the honored guests to pass under. Their deliberate movements were the only things that gave them away.

Then the royal consort bowed low to the traveling companions. Rising, he stood to his full height, and revealed himself to be much like to the gatekeeper, save he wore a long cape of scarlet and blue. He named himself Korestar of the High Court, and with a grand sweeping motion he called for them to follow him, and they did.

And they traversed several grand halls and passages with Korestar guiding them and the honor guard behind them. As they walked in silence there seemed to be a whispering of a tune. It was like soft playing music of all the sounds of water, from the trickling of a babbling brook to the roar of waves crashing upon a cliff. The weariness of all their journeys and tribulations were cleansed from their hearts and they felt a presence in their souls that they had not sensed for a long time; joy.

Then they came to a new area. There were staircases that spiraled upwards to watchtowers and spires that were formed from coral and reefs. Windows allowed them to peer out into the depths of the Realm of the Crystal Blue, and the creatures they witnessed there were strange, but beautiful, and were of many colors and plentiful. And the bearers of the Pendant of Silver Ice were moved.

They came then to a door that stood taller than the one that had brought them to this realm. It appeared as they stood with Korestar that the door was thrice the height of a Muladeen. It was adorned with gems of blue and green, and portrayed a mural of great beauty and sadness.

They waited there, and Korestar watched them and allowed them to gaze upon the door. Engraved on the door was a great city, of the likes of none they had seen before. Tall it was, and with many gates. In the distance, a purple mountain rose to meet the sky, and the blue and purple mingled and became one. A field stretched out before the city leading to a forest that crowded a mouth of a cave.

"What is this place?" Gilvias asked, pointing to the city.

Korestar came to the ranger's side and looked upon the city. There was a mix of emotions upon his face. "That is Valithoth," Korestar said. "It is the city of Tevindal."

The four companions looked at each other in wonderment.

"Where does this city lay?" asked Gilvias.

Korestar was silent for many moments, pondering his answer. "It is beyond the reach of the Realms. It is beyond the Temple of Runes and the Great Doorway of the Void, past the confining walls of Ultuma."

"You have been there?" piped up Leaf.

"No," Korestar said, shaking his head sadly. "I have not had such a privilege. Only one has been there besides those that reside there, and only in a dream long ago."

"Lord Mabaslu?" Eliniza questioned.

"No, Lord Achaines, when he was still but mortal," Korestar said. "Now, we have dallied long enough. My Lord waits."

And with that he pushed open the grand doors revealing the throne room within.

The High Seat of the Lord of the Waters

The dim light within showed with an eerie essence. There were bards with many arms strumming strange elongated harps. They all plucked the same note many times in succession before a plethora of sounds rose up into the din, forming a procession of sound that was as strange as the pale light that illuminated the grand hall.

Strange shapes lumbered within. They moved with inconsistency, as if they slowly bounced on their feet at irregular intervals. The bards began to slowly sing now, their voices reaching to such great depths of sound that the floor began to softly vibrate. The four truly noticed the bards now for what they were.

Great eyes peered at them with milky white irises. The faces were wide with dark shades of green and brown. One of the bards noticed their disconcerted looks and performed what could only be guessed as a smile from its massive frog-shaped head. A great many bubbles bellowed forth from the bard's mouth.

"We cannot enter here," Gilvias whispered urgently to Korestar. His voice was downcast and low, not wanting to interrupt the scene unfolding in the royal chamber of this strange realm. "We have no ability to withstand this room. We will drown and perish."

"All of this entire Realm is below the surface, Master Ranger," Korestar replied. "You are not the first air-breathing mortals to visit our palace. We have preparations for such occasions."

With that, Korestar moved before them drawing to his full height. It seemed as if the song from within the room grew louder and stranger and seemed as if it was carried across a great distance through the currents of water that somehow stayed bound within. There was a rushing of sound and a grand light seemed to flood out of the chamber behind Korestar.

The bards played rapidly in a rushing order. The sounds sounded metallic. The harps then blasted a hymn of great power and the building light flooded out from the chamber and washed over the four companions.

The light was bright and searing, causing them to shield their eyes. Leaf opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound could escape. Each of the four felt pain upon their necks, as if their flesh was ripping from within. Dogar reached for his massive war-hammer feeling they had been betrayed and would take Korestar down into the Void with him.

But, recession came just as suddenly as the sound and light's assault. The pain at their necks subsided, and all were left feeling weakened from the force that had been used upon them. They looked at each other, and all knew that they appeared different, but none could place it.

It was Eliniza that noticed it first and her words rushed out in shock, rather than from complete comprehension. "We have gills," she said, and her hand moved absently to her own neck.

The others followed suit, feeling the new adaptations of their bodies. Korestar before them smiled a great toothy grin. Gilvias let out a small smug laugh. "Lead on," he said to the Muladeen. Korestar moved out from before them and held out a long scaled arm beckoning them forward.

The movement into the Chambers of the High Seat of the Lord of the Waters was something out of a dream. They moved slowly, and the sheet of water that stood at the chamber's edge did not sway or move, but held to its form as they slowly moved into it. The water was salty and warm like bath water.

The sounds and light altered as they entered. They no longer found the eerie beams of light that filtered into the dry chamber beyond. Instead there was a consistent glorious glow that complimented the chamber made from coral and decorated it in the colors of earthly rainbows. The music changed too, it was richer and welcoming. It had majestic qualities, fit for the throne room of a king.

The bards did not seem monstrous, nor was the movement of those within still strange. All seemed right and in order around the chamber. Statues that were tall and grand stood in the far corners of the chamber. They had small traces of algae upon them and small schools of fish swam in their shadows.

They moved deeper into the throne room of the Tower of Undersea Shadows looking openly at those of Mabaslu's court. The members were of humanoid nature, but had fins or faces of turtles or fish. The court officials stared back, not angered at the shock that was registered on the faces of the new guests, but rather they were entertained.

Their attention turned away from distractions, seeing now a Lord of Tevindal displayed in all of his majesty and glory. The Throne of Pearl upon which Mabaslu sat was tall and broad and gleamed golden in the underwater shadows. But, the throne seemed small compared to the great Lord who sat upon it. And Mabaslu sat upright, clad in his bodily mail of emerald and ivory scales. A crown that was an azure helm upon his head shaded his face. He held in his right hand Galdring, his Pearl Trident, which was both his mighty weapon and scepter. Upon his neck hung a gleaming silver chain, which was laden with a medallion that was blue like the evening sky.

The four were ushered before the Lord of the Realm of the Crystal Blue. Then Korestar bowed to his master, both deeply and reverently. Horns blared and the harps were strung in a rising chorus, and Mabaslu looked upon his guests with weighing eyes. The four standing under that keen gaze bowed to the Lord as deeply as they could, waiting long before they rose again.

"Hail! Mighty Lord of the Deep!" cried out Korestar. The Muladeen's fist had moved over his heart and his eyes burned with bright flames as he looked upon his master. "Hail! Master of all Water, be it rain or snow!"

Then there was silence, which seemed immeasurable and all consuming. It grew as deep as the depths of the blue sea that was cast about the undersea castle in which they resided. Then, at last there was a great thundering. It seemed that the walls shook, and the water about them bubbled and fizzled and was displaced.

The water roared forth in the form of a wave, and the four companions did what they could to stay rooted to the surface floor. The white-foamed and crested wave swept past them, moving deeper into the chamber. All was clear before them now and they witnessed the Lord of the Waters standing before them.

Great in height he was and terrible to behold! Mighty in every facet, he stood as one of the true servants of Tevindal. He held out Galdring and one his servants moved to take hold of the mighty weapon. He then spread his arms widely in a grand welcoming gesture. He then spoke. His voice was like the roaring waves that hurl upon the cliff, and the four understood not of what he had said.

"My dear friends, you have performed a mighty deed," said Korestar translating. "Long has my thought been bent on the Pendants that sat in my Bowls of old, before treachery and war scattered them. My servants have sought them in vain, and my counsel has gone unfulfilled. Long have I dwelt in the darkness of my thoughts. Knowing what would occur if those that were missing were not returned before the Final Darkness of the Gods, the Battle that is prophesied to be held on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok."

"For it has been written, without the possession of the Three, I shall not wield the strength to pierce my greatest foe and send him to the Ruin long reserved for him. Where now have you come across the Pendant of Silver Ice? My heart desires to hear the tale!"

Gilvias took a deep breath, nervous in confronting a Lord of Tevindal in human speech. "In the most unlikely of places, my Lord," he said.

"The tale is long, and I shall tell you in full. But, know it so, that the Pendant had returned to its place of original holding, but through devices of wickedness."

Gilvias then recounted all that had taken place. He left out no detail, be it minute or not. He spoke even of his escape from the Guardian at the Gate of Skull Palace. "The Guardian's blow missed me, for I rolled out from under it at the last second, though the minion of evil believed me to have been slain. My friends too thought I had perished and continued on without me, and descended far into your ancient temple, which is now a dwelling of darkness."

"Yes," Mabaslu replied. "Long ago that place fell from the light and was conquered by evil hands. Dread Lords assaulted the palace, though we beheld them at first as friends. It was believed that the Falina could not be turned to such devices, but alas it was not so. They were crafty, and I was not present, for I was fighting on some distant frontier during the War of the Gods. Their swords they revealed as one, and they were no longer of many colors, but black like the foundations of their hearts."

"They killed all within the temple, and gained both the domain and the Pendants. I personally led the assault to retake what was mine. The Dread Lords we slew, along with the other foul creatures of Gorthar, which they had brought. But, the Pendants were no longer there, though with the haste of the holders of the Pendants retreat it was believed they were scattered to far corners of the Realm of Confusion. The bearers were believed to be slain on separate battlefields, but the carcasses went unspoiled, for none dared touch the flesh of the demented that were once Falina."

"Thus, the Pendants were lost, and my original dwelling I abandoned, for it had been fouled by the enemy. Long have I sought the Three, and it was an Age ago that I recovered the Sapphire Pendant. The telling of the deed is long and dark, and I will not utter it here! But, recover it I did, though many of my dearest companions were sundered to the Void. I have worn it ever since, so that it could not become hidden again from my sight. But now I come to a dark decision that may rule the fate of the darkest day yet to come."

Then was Mabaslu silent. Darkness seemed to cloud about him, and the water turned murky and seemed to boil. All in the chamber looked openly upon his indecision. Long moments passed before he raised his crowned head.

"I proclaim now my Doom!" Mabaslu declared. "Be it for good, or if it shall turn to all of our ruin, my mind is set. One more quest lies before you, and it will be the last of your lives, even if you escape the clutches of death! The path before you is to the Lake of Nightfire and the black dungeons below!"

All were silent as Mabaslu weighed their reactions to his words. He saw that their faces had turned grim, but in weighing their hearts he saw that they were not dismayed. For he witnessed the strength of the steel of their will, and though the tidings he had announced were of ill making, he smiled.

"I know without your words that you will do my bidding, for it is written upon you," Mabaslu said. "I will tell you what must be done, but I cannot reveal the path that you will take. That path you four alone must decipher from out of the darkness."

"What is our destiny, oh great Lord of the Seas?" Eliniza asked, moving forward to stand with Gilvias.

"The Lake of Nightfire lies within the Sea of Monsters upon Corthan, the world from which you came. I will gift to you transportation and protectors that I will hand pick from my Muladeen. They will help you gain entrance to the dungeons below the surface, and may enter if they so choose," Mabaslu said.

"Once you are within the Dungeons of Nightfire, you must search out the gate," Mabaslu continued. "Past this gate no Muladeen may go, for it was decided long ago that none of the Immortal may pass back to that place."

"What place, my lord?" Eliniza asked.

Mabaslu watched her intently, and Gilvias noticed he was not the only one. It seemed as all eyes were upon her. They judged her, the ranger noticed. He wondered what was meant by no Immortals not being able to pass. And, he wondered, how that would affect Eliniza, who had blood of the Falina in her veins.

"The gate will take you to the Lost City," Mabaslu answered.

"The Lost City?" Dogar asked, moving up with his ward. "And what place might that be?"

It was Eliniza that answered, not the Lord of the Deep. "Thera," she whispered.

Mabaslu nodded his great helmed head. "We believe the last Pendant rests hidden there within the ruins, but we have had no way to enter there. As I said, it is forbidden to us, and there is only one way to open the gate."

"That is the second time you have said that no Immortal may enter," said Gilvias. "What of one that contains the bloodline of the Ancient Falina? What may befall Eliniza if she walks through this gate to Thera?"

"There may be consequences," Mabaslu said, but did not expand on his explanation.

Eliniza's head sunk and she nodded thoughtfully as her three companions looked to her. "Regardless of any consequences, I will walk this dark path," Eliniza announced after many moments. "But, there is more to this that concerns you, Great Lord. There is something that worries you more than the safety of our party, or even that of your Muladeen, or failure itself."

"You are perceptive, but failure is what I indeed fear. But, it is not failure that may cost your lives, though I do dread such an incident. Or that the Enemy may send servants to dodge your steps and going into the Lost City claim the Pendant as their own. Such an occasion still leaves us the option to muster our forces and make open war on the strongholds of our foes," said Mabaslu.

"No, it is fear of losing what I must send into the darkness with you. For, to complete your quest and to open the gate to the realm of that which was lost in war long ago, I must send that which is most precious to me and my cause."

"What are you saying?" asked Dogar bluntly, for it was not in his nature to deal with half-truths and riddles.

"What I am saying master dwarf, is that you must be able to open the gate to Thera. To do so, you must have great power, which one may only do so by wielding the Pendant of Silver Ice and the Sapphire Pendant."

The Voyage to the Firegate

Thus did the Lord of the Deep laden them with supplies for their voyage. And Wave Dancer became full with stock. Then leaving the Tower of Undersea Shadows, they came back to their own realm to the Temple of Sunken Echoes, but were escorted by the might of Mabaslu.

Three Muladeen warriors came with them, with Korestar as captain. But, Korestar put the judgment of the mission into the hands that carried forth the Pendants of his master. Upon the necks of Gilvias and Eliniza hung a Pendant of Power, but the talismans of the deep seemed invisible as they were worn. A spell had been cast upon them in hope of secrecy, and the Muladeen were hooded and cloaked to hide, though their size was not easily made deceivable.

The rays of the Towers of Twilight were asleep as they took to their ship. Clouds drifted heavily in the sky causing the sea to lack its gleaming nature. Only white foam at the mouth of the temple could be seen, and that only by Dogar very well with his dwarf vision.

The wind seemed to whisper as they set off into the darkness. The movement of the sea was a mournful, slow tune. It played its chorus over and over, moving in rhythm to the rowing of the oars. As the temple mouth shrunk from view, Korestar began to hum and lowly sing.

The language was that of his people, far too structured for that of mortals that only lived a brief span of years. There was sorrow in the tongue, a sadness that made the wind bitter with a bite of chill. As he sang the two other Muladeen warriors joined in, singing complementing parts. Their song ended. The wind seemed to howl the louder in protest.

"What was your song about?" Leaf asked, his face a mask of sorrow.

"It was about the dance of the planets, as they were long ago. They had once caravanned slowly across the Forever Night Sea, before the ancient war resumed. Their movement was of cosmic beauty, but their song was dimmed and broken by the servants of Devindal. I had hoped to look upon the clear sky, but it was shaded, and reminded me of what was lost long ago," Korestar finished.

"Lost, like how Thera was lost," Eliniza replied quietly to herself.

Korestar was silent. He let the wailing wind answer for him.

...

When the Tower of Sunrise awoke its flame upon the world at dawn, it was clear that the thick clouds of the night had dissipated. There were only a few clouds now, and those that remained burned with ruby morning fire. The blue water rolled slightly, but remained mostly smooth. They made their setting southwest, hoping to avoid the business of the ports of southern Ariwrath.

They would try to hug outside the sightline of the northern coasts of Solizar, a land that saw relatively few ships. But, they knew they must stay away from view of the high places of the Mountains of White Shadow and the power that resided within. The eyes of Black Mountainside were always watching. The gaze looked out to the world and its reach was far and perceptive.

If the Goddess of Undoing captured them, the cosmic balance would shift. The Muladeen, though strong, did not boast beyond their strength. They had no illusions that their strength would be enough to avail the Soulless Knight and his Mistress in their own realm.

The morning moved on, growing into a day touched with warmth. Nothing could be seen in any direction besides the deep richness of blue flowing ripples. There was no noise, save the soft splashes of the oars and the faint call of the wind. No one said much over the long hours, content to let silence rule.

Twilight came, and day faded into night. They took shifts of rowing and sleeping to ensure that the ship constantly continued in the desired direction. As the night began to settle upon the sea, Gilvias and Eliniza rowed as the rest of the crew slept. High above, the Ancient Stars of the Falina slowly started to emerge. They were bright blue jewels adorning the heavens.

Morning came once again, bright and clear. Gilvias and Eliniza had passed the night together, letting the others rest. They had talked quietly in whispers, careful not to disturb the others. Their talk had touched upon many things, of things that have passed and things still yet to come. But, though their love had grown strong through their adventures together, Gilvias felt something from his Meldina that he had never felt before: distance.

Gilvias knew there was something bothering Eliniza. It simmered there in her heart, and the ranger felt he could almost see a sliver of smoke, rising from her. She kept this secret close, and Gilvias knew it troubled her deeply. He did not ask, nor did he pretend it was not there. She knew that her lover felt her troubles, but she knew he would wait till she was ready to talk of it.

As the light grew brighter on the eastern horizon, their shipmates awoke one by one. Though they were immortal, save physical wounds or poison, the Muladeen slept like the dead. Their waking caused them to grumble, making them not much different than the dwarf in the morning, or at any time during the day. Leaf awoke with his usual cheery self, with his first words asking what there was to eat.

The beams of the Tower of Sunrise continued their ascent. They moved higher from the adjacent position of the sea to the cloud-capped crown above them. The clouds burned this morning with pinkish, purple fire as the light mingled with them. The landmass to the south became evident and now seemed distant. The Mountains of White Shadow were now faint and dull on the southeast horizon. They seemed small and powerless. All felt that their threat had passed.

The journey became dull and glum as they moved away from Solizar. Now, there was nothing but the vastness of ocean as they moved into the Sea of Monsters. Leaf scoffed at the name of that ocean for several days, until on the third day ripples and dark shadows moved slowly, circling their ship. The beasts never showed themselves, nor attacked, but Leaf no more made little of the name.

On the fourth day in the Sea of Monsters, Korestar and the Muladeen assumed complete control of the rowing and navigating. "We are close," the Muladeen said. "I believe our course must now turn northward, then back west. We will try to come at the island and land away from the gate. The gate is situated on the southern part of the island," he said, drawing a crude map with his thick finger on the hull of the ship. "If we make a direct assault, they will see us and overcome us."

Assault on the Dungeons of Nightfire

Two more days then passed on their journey upon the Sea of Monsters. The wind blew north from the southern edges of the world, filling their sail. The air was hot and thick with wet stickiness. Korestar commented that the winds felt as if they were from the furnaces of the Isle of Death itself.

The vessel skipped the waves, moving northwest. Night fell, but the Stars of the Falina were veiled, though there had been no clouds throughout the day. Korestar and his companions now controlled every bit of the rigging and rowing. None found sleep easy, for the Lake of Nightfire was coming closer with each passing day.

The light from the Tower of Sunrise rose from the depths of the Starlit Sea with murky haze. The beams seemed tainted with dark filth. And to the north a great dark billow of smoke rose from the now choppy sea. It was like a burning of a fleet of ships as they went painfully to their ruin.

All stared with open horror at the smoke, where at its bottom was a thin line of red, like the color of blood. "That is the flame from the Lake of Nightfire," Korestar quietly said. Only the darkening waves answered.

The darkness of the pouring smoke seemed to know its bounds. Soon the waters they sailed turned black from ash and the sky overhead forsook Corthan's beacons of light, the Towers of Twilight. All that remained was the faint blood-red glow from the flame that burned the unholy waters, from which the lake was named. Their ship was sailing to the gate of the fiery Underworld.

Night fell a final time. They would reach the island under this unbidden shade, if morning decided to show her face at all. In the ship weapons were drawn and checked. The ship was sailing due west now to turn about and land on the slim eastern coastline. "There are battlements along the Coast of Black Ash, and they must be scaled," Korestar started. "The Muladeen and I will scale the walls and dispatch any guards. You then will follow. The outer-stronghold should be relatively unprotected. No one has reason or is foolish enough to assault this stronghold, certainly with a force as small as ours. They will not be alerted."

"You make this sound easy," Dogar grumbled sarcastically. "The keep will fall to us by midday."

Korestar ignored the dwarf, but the other Muladeen openly glared at him. Gilvias shook his head, while Leaf giggled. Eliniza elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"We are not here to conquer the keep," Korestar said, moving on with his plan. "We are here to open the gateway to Thera. Now the battlements run along the Coast of Black Ash, but turn and descend down, emptying at the Firegate. There we must slay all resistance before we enter."

The other Muladeen were turning Wave Dancer. Her white body seemed so visible and vulnerable in the repelling blackness that surrounded them. As the ship slipped closer and closer to the giant wall of the outer keep their concern grew, but no dart or missile bombarded them. Korestar was right; they did not expect assault and the guards were undisciplined at their posts.

The ship slipped out of the water and scudded up onto the black ash beach of the enemy. The wall now was greatly imposing, reaching over a hundred feet in height. The beach to the wall was a very short distance, only about ten meters. One of the Muladeen reached into a bag and pulled out a bundle of equipment. It jingled slightly as he and the others moved forward off the ship.

The Muladeen with the bundle handed part of it to Korestar. The two began swinging hooks attached to many links of chain in rapid succession. Korestar gave a command and the hooks flew up into the blackness. There were a couple of clinking noises indicating the hooks had reached the inner-workings of the wall.

Korestar peered back at those that had accompanied him on this fool's errand. "Wait here on the ship until we signal you. If we fall then you must escape. Do not let the pendants fall into the hands of the enemy! Cast them in the sea if there are no other options!"

He turned and left, going to the chain ladder that now dangled from the height of the wall. The first of the warriors of the God of Waters reached the summit then slipped over, and soon the second followed. As the third was reaching the top there came the first sounds of battle. It was quick and decisive not leaving any doubt the outcome had been beneficial for their cause.

Long minutes passed by with all of the Muladeen upon the battlements. Gilvias had an arrow notched and ready, while Leaf and Eliniza sat ready with the oars. Dogar was on the beach, his hammer still upon his back ready to give the shove to put the ship to water for their escape.

Footsteps were audible from high above now. Gilvias raised his bow, drawing back and ready to let loose death. His action was not needed, at least not yet, for Korestar stuck his head over the wall motioning them with a waving hand. He was beckoning them to ascend. The coast was clear for now.

One by one, they climbed the chain ladder and came onto the battlement. It was wide and its walls were tall with enough height that the Muladeen could stand at their height without worry. None of the three Muladeen seemed to have sustained injury.

"How did it go?" Gilvias asked Korestar as he came off the ladder.

"Resistance was light," Korestar answered. His eyes moved rapidly back and forth, always on the lookouts for new dangers. "The guards up here were all goblins. Most were asleep at their posts or gambling with their comrades. They all died swiftly, gurgling on their black blood."

"Is the passage to the dungeons clear then?" Eliniza asked, moving forward and checking the pieces of her armor.

Silence was the long answer. Korestar looked at the Muladeen then back to the others. It was not hard to tell that they were worried about something up ahead. And the four companions were smart enough to know if they were worried, then it was something bad indeed.

"The battlement is clear," Korestar started. "As for the others, we do not have the time to clear them. But, it not of those that I am concerned," his words trailed off as he looked to his brothers at arms.

"We will move further down the line," he started again. "We will come to where the walkway ends and descends with stairs to the bridge of the Lake of Nightfire. When we get there, I will show you what concerns us."

Korestar motioned to the Muladeen and they rose as one and began moving across the walkway going south. Korestar motioned for the others to follow. Gilvias went first, followed by Eliniza, Leaf, and Dogar. Korestar made up the rear guard himself, glancing only once to the north to make sure they were not being followed.

It did not take long to get to where they were headed. The Muladeen stopped and crouched, with their four companions following their lead. Black stairs were only a few meters away, descending down at an angle that headed to the north and west. The Muladeen moved forward and motioned the four companions up to him.

He motioned to peer through a hole in the northern wall, "an arrow slit," Gilvias said as he moved to peer through it.

"Yes," Korestar replied. "It looks down upon the Firegate. They never expected enemies to take the walls and use these for their own benefit. This will help us in our mission." Gilvias was the first to look through the opening for the defense position and what he saw caused him to gasp in horror and fear.

What he saw was the black walls boxing in the blood-red molten liquid of the Lake of Nightfire. Black smoke rose in abundance from the sulfur surface and carried itself up into the darkness as if it were an offering of evil. Near the end of the stairs, which they sat near, started a thin bridge that stretched out into the precipice of hell leading to a small black island in the lava lake's belly. On the island there was but one monument, a tall black tower in the shape of the head of a ravenous werewolf.

The werewolf's mouth was open with its fangs bared. Its eyes were smoldering fires from great vats that held the firewater from the lake. The face was etched with pristine horror, but the greatest horror stood before the open mouth, as if it had been spewed from it. Before the mouth of the werewolf stood a massive giant that seemed to be lit by flames itself. It held a massive double-edged battle-axe that was twice the height of Gilvias. By the behemoth's side were two smaller figures in charcoal black armor.

Gilvias left the arrow-slit, shaken. The others, seeing the result of Gilvias' viewing, quickly huddled together near the open slit, so that they might see. The fear that took Gilvias took the others as well.

"What you have seen is the Bridge of Gallarbru that crosses the Lake of Nightfire and leads to the Firegate and its guardian. The guardian is Augelmir, the fire giant forged long ago in the furnaces below by the Dark Smith. The two orcs with him are his runners to report any enemy crossings to the hordes that are stationed below," Korestar said.

"Now," Korestar started, "with us now in the shadow of horror I will tell you what to expect if we gain the Firegate. The Dungeons of Nightfire is the keep to the Wizard Navreg, the Reaper of Darkness. He is an emissary of Myr, Prince of Devindal. Though he keeps a bastion of goblins and other consorts of soldiers, he also deals with necromancy."

"In his dungeons, he has constructed golems from the rotting parts of the dead. These beings answer directly to him. Avoid them at all cost! I have with me a map from one that dared these dungeons long ago. I hope it is still accurate. The arch for the portal to Thera is near the throne room. It is rumored that Navreg cannot open it. If we are caught by the wizard, then all will be lost!" Korestar finished.

"That's great and all," Dogar started to angrily grumble, "but how are supposed to defeat that beast that guards the gate?"

"That job will fall to the Muladeen and me," Korestar said. "Gilvias, it will be your job to cover us with your bow. Take out the goblins first, that way they will not be able to report our actions. Then you must open fire upon Augelmir as we approach across the Bridge of Gallarbru."

"What is Gilvias' bow supposed to do to that?" Leaf asked, his visibly shaking form pointing towards the fire giant.

"It will distract it," Eliniza answered, "and maybe inflict some damage to it as well. I too have a bow. I will set up at another arrow-slit and let loose on the monster too."

"What should the runt and I do?" asked Dogar.

"You two will cross over to the stairs of the opposite battlement," Korestar said. "There will be goblins there. Slay them as they try to rally as reinforcements."

"Won't they shoot arrows at you guys as you cross the bridge?" Leaf asked.

"Most likely not," Korestar answered. "The stupid creatures will probably not know what is going on until we are engaged in battle. They will not shoot because their aim will not be good enough. They will try to flank us by crossing the bridge behind us or to slay you as you provide covering fire."

"Sounds like as good of a plan as any," Gilvias said. "Let's get on with it."

The Muladeen began to move towards the edge of the stairs and descend down them. Korestar hesitated, and then turned back to Gilvias and Eliniza, "Wait for my signal," he said. Korestar looked to Leaf and Dogar, "You two follow us down the stairs. When we make for the bridge, you will go to the other staircase and bring the fight to the enemy there."

Korestar looked back at his archers once again, "Do not miss the goblins on the bridge or we fail before we begin," he said, then he turned and went to his comrades.

"Tevindal's luck be with you," Gilvias said to Leaf and Dogar as they made to follow Korestar.

Leaf hugged Gilvias and Dogar patted the ranger on the back, "We'll be fine. Make sure no harm befalls Eliniza," the dwarf said. With that, they were gone.

Both Gilvias and Eliniza began pulling off their quivers from their backs, letting their arrows be in easy reach. Each notched an arrow and pulled back their drawstrings. "I'll take the goblin on the right, you take the one on the left," Gilvias said. "May our aim be true!"

"What do you think this signal is going to be?" Eliniza asked, without taking her eyes off her target.

"We'll find out soon enough," Gilvias replied with a curt smile.

As if in answer, a roar went up below them. The three Muladeen warriors had charged onto the Bridge of Gallarbru and were making their way across the Lake of Nightfire.

"That would be our signal," Gilvias said. "Let loose!"

Two arrows streaked across the hazing blackness that rose from the molten lake. On the small island that housed the Firegate, two goblins in black armor moved to enter the gate to rally reinforcements against the Immortal Warriors that charged to invade. The goblins never made it two feet from where they originally stood. One fell with an arrow protruding through its neck, with black blood bubbling on its lips as it died. The other fell instantly with a plumed arrow perched in its left eye.

The fire giant, Augelmir stood to its full height and roared in protest to the slaying of its companions and in challenge of those that now crossed the bridge. Its roar altered and became that of fury as it was now pummeled by a rapid succession of hissing arrows from the two archers hidden upon the east wall. It moved its great battle-axe about as if to swat away the arrows, like the way one would swat at flies. Augelmir's anger grew and he erupted in bright red flame as he entered his battle-fury.

The Muladeen were moving steadily across the bridge, with Korestar taking up the rear. The bridge swayed and shook under their collective weight. They could move only at a light trot, the heat below rose up and caused much discomfort to them. It was the antithesis of their realm, this domain of hell. Their ice javelins dripped and hissed in the heat, which added to the chorus of the bubbling lava below and the whispering flickering of arrows above.

Dogar and Leaf made for the opposite stairs as soon as the Muladeen charged for the bridge. They ascended the flight quickly, and positioned themselves around a curving bend that would leave them unseen to approaching goblin eyes. Thorn-Biter was drawn and the Hammer of Stonecrusher held high. "No mercy when they come," Dogar growled in his battle rage. Leaf gulped and nodded.

The first black armored goblin came around the bend in a light run. Dogar stood and struck, his massive battle-hammer striking the goblin's helm. The helmet caved in, smashing in on itself, and it emitted a pressurized stream of black gore that splashed upon the stone of the wall. The goblin fell at Dogar's feet, dead before it knew what had taken place.

Leaf struck the second goblin. Thorn-Biter swung out in a controlled flat arc, cutting under the plate of the monster's armor at the stomach. Slick stringy cords slipped out of the Goblin's belly. It shrieked in unfathomable pain as it clutched at its insides. It fell, its legs kicking and flailing in its death throes.

There was no time to put the thing out of its misery. More goblins were upon them, and they were no longer taken by surprise. Five goblins remained, all of them pushing forward trying to get at the enemy that had killed their brothers in arms.

The battlements were too narrow for them all to fit through the gap. They collided with each other, bottlenecking themselves with not enough room to freely swing their red-tipped black swords they wielded. Dogar saw the tipped blades and yelled to Leaf, "Be on your guard! Those blades are poisoned tipped, one scratch will kill you!" Leaf muttered something and moved forward to strike at the nearest goblin.

...

The Muladeen were almost across the bridge now. They moved slower than both Eliniza and Gilvias had expected. "I am running out of arrows," Gilvias cried over to Eliniza. She quickly fired two more arrows and yelled back, "I'm out!"

Gilvias spared a moment to glance at his love. She was looking at him with a look of helpless determination. Gilvias looked down to his quiver, only five arrows remained. He took two and tossed them to her. "Aim for its eyes!" he yelled. He then emptied his quiver.

Augelmir was roaring uncontrollably now. The fire that surrounded him was dark, like a consuming blanket. A few more arrows flickered overhead striking at the fire giant's face. The beast lifted its arms to ward them off as the Muladeen came upon the platform. The hiss from the arrows ceased.

"Spread out!" Korestar bellowed. The Muladeen fanned out, making a three-pronged attack formation to encircle the monster and put its back against the Firegate. Ice-javelins were held before them, like icy needles ready to douse the flames of hell. The fire giant swept his massive axe in great arcs at the invading Muladeen.

Augelmir made an outraged gesture on his rocky shaped face. He uttered words of the ancient tongue of Devindal, casting forth spells of doom on his godly opponents. The words were dark and foul and hung like heat of a fog over them.

Korestar bellowed forth his lordly voice and came forward. He spoke in the tongue of the Realm of the Crystal Blue. Augelmir was stayed, as were the other two Muladeen. Augelmir and Korestar bent their wills at each other. Each had doom upon their lips.

Then did the fire giant fall back and roar in outraged fury and pain. His spell and curse had been broken and it seemed that the air exploded all around them. Curses and spells would do no more here. And the battle at the Firegate soon became engaged.

...

"What's happening now?" asked Dogar as he and Leaf rounded the corner on the east battlement. Both Eliniza and Gilvias had been caught unaware. They were enraptured by the battle that was being displayed before them.

Gilvias had jerked back and fallen on his backside, trying to draw forth Coldyne at the words of the dwarf. He saw that it was only his friends and released his grasp drawing in a breath of relief.

"The west battlement is clear then?" Gilvias responded, answering the dwarf's question with a question.

"Seven stupid dead goblins," Dogar said. "And almost a dead tree nymph, but he managed to weasel out alive once again," Dogar said with a snort. Leaf looked at his friend in protest. Gilvias nodded at the first statement, and was too worried about the fight that was raging to worry about the second one.

"You better take a look," the ranger said to the dwarf. Gilvias motioned Dogar forward and the dwarf crouched in front of the arrow slit. Dogar gasped at what he saw.

The three Muladeen were striking with their ice-javelins, and then retreating. Augelmir swung his massive axe wildly in his anger. The fire giant hissed and sizzled where the ice-javelins struck him. The weapons of the Muladeen dripped water from the immense heat from the Lake of Nightfire and from the injuries inflicted onto the guardian of the gate. Mist arose all around the four combatants as they danced their deadly fight.

More wounds the ice-javelins caused. Augelmir was their pinprick. But, alas! The fire giant was mighty indeed. With a great swing of its double-bladed axe, Augelmir swept a head off one of the attacking Muladeen.

Eliniza cried out in horrible despair. Dogar tugged his beard hard. Gilvias, looking over Dogar's head, grabbed the dwarf's shoulders in his misery. Leaf, looking through Eliniza's arrow slit, wept openly.

...

Korestar stood now with his one companion as he watched the blood flow from his friend's mortal wound. The decapitated head had rolled into the oblivion of the fire-lake. The other Muladeen roared in fury and defiance, his mane sticking up on end. He rushed forward and grabbed the ice-javelin of his fallen comrade and heaved it at the grinning giant.

The giant gasped its pain like thunder. The ice-javelin sunk deep into its body and there was a flare of white frost. The Muladeen wasted no time in attacking, and heeded not Korestar's call against rash haste. The Muladeen came forth and forcibly rammed his own ice-javelin deep in the fire giant's middle near the other ice-javelin he had cast.

The weapon from the Realm of the Crystal Blue sank deep into the foe's horrid flesh releasing a foul stench. And though Augelmir was deeply wounded, he had not yet been defeated. He struck hard with the aft of his axe, beating the Muladeen down to its knees. Then the fire giant struck again and brought the hot blade deep into the Muladeen's chest. The Muladeen let out one more defiant snarl, then lost his grasp on life and slipped away to the Void.

Korestar stood alone now against the flame of darkness. The deepening doom seemed about him with the vital mission he was a part of was close to slipping away. Korestar faced his foe and in the gloom of hell he called upon Tevindal. And through the ash of darkness a beam of light pierced through dark cloud and sulfur's ash.

The light hindered the great guardian of the Dungeons of Nightfire, for he had only known darkness. Then through the plain of darkness, Korestar's prayer was aided for Eliniza had rushed to the far side of the Bridge of Gallarbru. She spoke in the tongue of her ancestors, and the beauty of it made her staff glow with pure light and it shown forth across the fiery gap and stung the eyes of Augelmir.

Then was the wounded fire giant momentarily blind. And coming forth with the all his power, Korestar put his weapon through the gaping maw of his enemy and smote him. Augelmir's eyes flared once and then dimmed. Releasing his ice-javelin from the corpse, it fell, and the fires that burned from its flesh were put out.

Korestar then sank to his knees in weariness. He looked to his murdered friends and in his pride kept back the tears that burned his eyes. He would not weep for them now, here at the edge of the bleak blackness.

The four wayfarers came now to Korestar from across the bridge. They stood with steel bared in their hands, but their eyes showed them as imposters to the cause of battle. The bodies of the dead were strewn about before the werewolf shaped gate. Eliniza came forth and put her arms around the mighty Muladeen. He held her in response.

The powerful servant of Mabaslu broke off the embrace and turning to the others asked for their help in seeing to his friends. No proper burial would be given to the fallen Muladeen. Only quick words were said, with the promise that their deaths would not be in vain. Then the dead heroes were slowly lowered into the Lake of Nightfire.

...

Eyes now turned to the unguarded gate. The eyes of the werewolf's head burned with malice. Steam was exhaled from the snarling beast's nostrils. And small amounts of burning lava dripped from the volcanic stream into collection vats below.

"We have but one path before us now," Korestar started. "We go now into the inner belly of Gorthar's halls. Remember, we must do what we can to stay away from the golems and their wizard. We will be no match for them now," Korestar said grimly.

He turned, and hefting his retrieved ice-javelin he entered the Firegate and was swallowed from sight by darkness. The other four followed and entered a world they had not yet known. The stair that descended downward into the hot heart of the dungeons of the Wizard Navreg was made of molten rock. The stench became thicker as they descended.

The descent down did not take long and the five companions soon found themselves in a hollowed out round hall. The hall seemed more a tunnel, as if it had been carved out by the lake's unholy liquid. There were noises of dripping water or lava in the distance. The echoing dripping sound found its chorus with cries of pain and agony that drifted to them from somewhere in the maze of the underworld.

"There are many prison cells here in this dark place," Korestar said. "Many innocent beings have been brought here over the centuries and tortured for either information or for the pleasure of the guards. Navreg has spells to sustain these poor souls so that their torment may be great. Though it pains me, and friends of old I may find down here, we cannot aid them," Korestar finished with sadness in his voice.

Silence answered him. His four companions knew they had a difficult enough task ahead of them. Assaulting the torture dens of the enemy would result in their ruin. They moved onward.

Korestar withdrew an ancient piece of parchment and unfolded it. Holding up the party he quickly studied it and looked at their surroundings, which included several tunnels before them that led in several different directions.

He moved them several feet forward and peered down one of the tunnels. Seeming somewhat content he moved them forward again and peered down another one of the halls that led off to deeper regions of the dark labyrinth. He looked back to the others and waved them onward once again. Korestar refolded his map and it disappeared into one of his pouches at his waist.

"I have an old map of these dungeons," he whispered to the others. "It seems that so far all seems the same. It does not mean things will not change. We will continue on this path and in a little ways the tunnel should reach another stair. We will descend further there."

"Then let us be on with it," mumbled Dogar nervously.

No one disagreed. They moved onward, creeping slowly. Each passage they crossed they peered down to make sure no enemy watched their movement. So far it seemed that the dungeon's inhabitants were too busy torturing prisoners to be doing anything else.

They soon reached the stair and descended further into the depths of the Dungeons of Nightfire. The rocky stairs were black and glasslike, looking slick but providing traction. The movement down the stairs was slow. Passages would lead off to other levels of the dungeons and the party had to make sure they would not be seen as they continued downward.

They had passed five landings when Korestar held them up again and withdrew his folded map. Quickly glancing over it he put it away and waved them on to continue the descent into hell. They passed two more landings and finally he gave the party the indication that they would depart the stairs on the next landing. They moved down and it seemed a long time before they reached the next level of the ancient stronghold.

The stench now became unbearable. Dogar coughed and put his nose in his hand, while Leaf covered his face. Eliniza made gasping noises while Gilvias almost vomited. Korestar remained focused, but it was clear that the stench affected him as well.

"Have we come to a rotting bog?" asked the dwarf full of grumpiness.

"Close enough," responded Korestar. "We are close to the gate now, but this corridor is protected by the golems of the Wizard Navreg. They are flesh golems pieced together by the bodies of foul beasts that lurk the underworld and the poor innocents from the prisons above. The monsters are corrupted to the will of the wizard; they will do his every bidding. Every now and then the golems must be 'adjusted' for flesh decays and parts fall off. That is what you smell, death and decay. It is rotting flesh."

Gilvias was overcome by nausea of the smell and explanation, and vomited onto the stair. Eliniza gave him a look of pity as he wiped his mouth. "Should I clean that up?" asked Gilvias to the Muladeen.

Korestar shook his head, "orcs and goblins cannot stand this stench either. Trust me; they'll think nothing of it. Let's go!"

They moved down the corridor rapidly, halting only to peer into off-shooting chambers. They saw several hulking flesh golems, the flesh of the beasts dripping and oozing. Some of the creatures dripped puss and blood. The stench was unbearable.

Though the flesh golems were massive and known for their strength, they were not known for their brains. They were mindless drones that did only the bidding of the master that had cast spells over them. They fought well in battle because inflicted injuries caused them no pain. They would keep going until they were smashed to bits.

All these tendencies allowed the invading party to slip pass the flesh golems unnoticed. They made their way to the end of the long hallowed out tunnel to an ancient chamber that seemed long forgotten. Korestar peered one last time down the way they had come and then looked to others. They had made it.

The chamber was black as night and had a tall ceiling covered in wicked looking stalagmites. Ash covered the ground in thick layers; it was of blacks and grays and smelled of the earth. The smell of the golems was not as bad here. They had moved away from their domains and the stench of death had receded.

Tucked tight into the back of the chamber was a round frame of ash covered metal. Whatever the make of the metal was impossible to tell by only looking. It had been in this desolate place for millennia. There was a short set of stairs leading up to the perceived opening of the frame. All eyes were fixated on this part of the chamber.

"There it is," said Korestar. He moved closer to the portal to study it. "Gilvias, Eliniza, come closer," the Muladeen said, beckoning them onward with a wave of his hand.

The two adventuring lovers came forward. As they moved closer to the portal, the hidden pendants around their necks revealed themselves. The pendants began to glow with a low brilliant light, which grew as they moved closer to the ancient portal of the destroyed world of Thera.

They came to stand before the frame. As they did, the lights around their necks intensified until there was a magnificent flash that struck them all blind for a matter of moments. When the light had faded, and when the party had regained their vision, they could see that the portal had activated.

The frame had had its center filled with what was now a milky bluish light. The light pulsated and moved downward like a wave. It was a continual flowing process that was both mesmerizing and beautiful. None could contain their amazement and awe.

"I can see through," said Leaf. "I see the other side. There are islands and there's still grass there. The world has been torn apart, but you can see that some of the buildings are still intact."

Dogar moved forward to the wood nymph's side, "He's right. There are domed structures there that no dwarf today could ever construct," he said, awed.

Korestar knew that there was much wonderment to behold. He too was close to falling victim of his own nostalgia of seeing the crown jewel of the ancient Realms once again. He took his eyes away, though. He knew he could never look there again.

"We cannot delay," Korestar said, interrupting them and bringing them back the peril that surrounded them. "You must go through the portal. I do not know how it will affect you," Korestar said looking at Eliniza. "But, there is more at risk than our own lives. If we fail, then Rantarok will be unbalanced."

"I understand," Eliniza said sternly. She had already accepted that her fate might prove in the passing between worlds.

Korestar then turned his gaze to Gilvias. The ranger nodded. Though he loved the Half-Falina, he would not let feelings jeopardize the outcome of the vital mission.

"Good," Korestar said. "When you go through, the portal will shut. You must then search out the final pendant. I do not know where it will be or how long you will have to search. There is another portal located in the destruction of Thera. When you have all three pendants, you must use their power to open the gateway back to Mabaslu's kingdom."

"What about you?' asked Gilvias.

"I cannot enter. So I will try to make my way back to the ship and escape the Dungeons of Nightfire that way. We must move quickly now, time is of the essence. I do not know when there will be a changing of the guards at the surface. When there is, then our entry into the dungeons will be made known."

His words seemed to bring forth ill favor. As the Muladeen finished speaking, a great ear piercing howl was let loose throughout all of the dungeons that rested below the Lake of Nightfire. The howl was of a wolf, for it had stemmed from the great wolf's maw of the gate.

"We are discovered!" Korestar said violently. "Now you must go!"

"But how are you to escape?" Eliniza asked in pleading desperation.

"There is no escape for me now," Korestar responded. "I knew this might be the case when I came with you across the sea. My mission is changed now. I go now to seek the Wizard Navreg to make sure the bastard does not live to see Rantarok. Go!"

With that Korestar turned, and hefting up his ice-javelin he left the chamber and returned to the hall beyond. Gilvias grabbed Eliniza's shoulder and brought her attention back on the wavering portal. Leaf shook visibly from the howling of the wolf, while Dogar wrapped a comforting arm about the wood nymph.

Gilvias turned to the huddled dwarf and wood nymph, "You heard him. Go!" the ranger growled. He moved forward and shoved them. "You two have to go first while we hold open the gate."

There was noise now that blended in with the sounding alarm. The sounds were close and were of battle.

"We have no time!" Gilvias yelled. The ranger could smell the stench of flesh golems. The beasts were heading towards the chamber. The others quickly recognized the smell as well, and Dogar, still clutching Leaf, dragged him into the portal. Gilvias reached over and grabbed his Meldina's hand as he turned and quickly glanced behind him.

A flesh golem had entered the chamber. Its smell was almost paralyzing. Its body seemed made up of a half dozen different creatures, with its head looking like a massive rotting fish. Gilvias turned back to the portal and tugged Eliniza forward. They moved through with a tingling sensation. The portal closed behind them as decayed hands grasped where they had stood only a moment before.

...

Korestar left the portal chamber at a dead sprint. He knew his death was not far away now. His eyes stung from tears. Not tears at his own inescapable demise, but from fallen pride that he would not be able to stand on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok and do battle. As a Muladeen and celestial servant of a God, he could not gain passage to the Tower of the Dead and rise again with the heroes of the Realms of Confusion.

This would be his final moment of glory. He would make sure that before the life left his physical form that his ice-javelin would be stabbed through the wizard of this dreadful place. Doing so would gain him renown as a hero as long as the Realm of the Crystal Blue stood.

He knew, though, that he would not meet the wizard unopposed. To gain access to the wizard's inner lair, he would have to go through a chamber on this level of the dungeon and descend a stair that led into the great bowels of Corthan. This chamber was where the flesh golems stood guard.

As he ran down the tunnel he saw the flesh golems emerging from the chamber. The cry of the wolf had set them into motion and they were on the lookout now for beings that did not belong in this fortress of Devindal. Two of the mindless creatures turned and watched his approach. They roared their defiance with sickening voices as Korestar brandished his mighty weapon.

The first of the two creatures that attacked him was ripped in half by the fury of his attack. A grievous wound inflicted Korestar across his right shoulder. But, the Muladeen was not hindered or slowed. He slew both of the flesh golems and continued onward fighting his way into the chamber.

The chamber of the flesh golems was not as full as he had previously counted. There had been nearly ten of the things when the party had passed by on their way to the portal chamber. But now Korestar only counted three. He had just slain two of the monsters, so five of them had wandered to others parts of the level before he had made his way here. Korestar hoped they had not gone to the stairwell that was located near the center of the chamber.

The Muladeen quickly decided it did not matter where the other flesh golems had gone. He would have to fight any enemy, which came his way. A spell of ruin was on his lips as he moved to make his way to the stair, but he stayed his craft, knowing he would need all of his mental powers when he met the wizard.

His ice-javelin he flung forward with a mighty heave and it pierced the breast of the first of the grotesque beasts that lumbered his way. He moved fast, much faster that the rotting lumps of flesh could move and tore his spear free. The violence of the motion of retrieving his ice-javelin tore the chest out of the flesh golem. It still came forward though, and in a sweeping motion Korestar moved down and used his weapon to trip his foe.

The flesh golem went down, and the bones in its distorted legs gave way and broke. Rendering the creature with the inability to regain an attack position. Korestar forgot about the disabled monster and quickly assaulted the other two creatures. They roared as he came forth. It sounded a mix of a snake hissing and a human vomiting. He dispatched them quickly, and then took to the stairs.

Korestar moved down the stairs without caution. He passed several levels and many times came face to face with surprised and bewildered goblins and orcs. He slew them without mercy or misgiving. The Muladeen was truly frightening in his battle-rage. He was covered with the gore of his slain enemies and his lion eyes blazed with fury.

The stairs led down a thousand steps followed by another thousand. Blood pumped feverishly through his veins as he went continually ever downward into the pit of the abyss. He knew the wizard would be in his hole, and though the whole dungeon of the fiery hell was lit with commotion of slaying the intruders, the wizard in his arrogance would believe in his own safety.

Korestar came then to the final stair and stepped off into the greatest depths of hell. Ten thousand steps he had descended, like coming down from the tallest peak to find the world in dark chaos. He slowed himself now and finally moved with caution.

Here was the lair of the Lord of Nightfire. Torturous scenes had been inscribed upon the walls, describing a brutal history of unbelievable wickedness. There were images and monuments to give honor to the wizard's brethren and mentor, the demon wizard, Scourge. Scourge's emissary visage was not seen here, but his true form as a servant of Myr and Devindal.

Korestar ceased to look at the images. But, moved slowly and purposely down a long corridor that led to a throne room beyond. The passage ended, revealing a large chamber that was draped in luxury. This was the first thing to take Korestar off guard. He did not expect to find elegance in hell.

"I have been expecting you," a cruel voice slithered. The speaker was unseen, hidden by the extravagance that littered the chamber. "Do not act surprised. Do you think that I do not keep wards on my personal chamber?" the voice mocked.

"Show yourself wizard," Korestar growled as the Muladeen's eyes shifted back and forth, looking for the slightest movement.

"Why should I?" the slithering voice purred. "So that you may have the advantage? You slow witted brute," Navreg said. The wizard's voice changed from a mocking tone to that of furious anger.

"You have invaded my domain and killed my creations. Do you think that you will be forgiven for that? Know this before I destroy you, that I will make you my ultimate prize. Yes, you shall be my crowning achievement and the flesh golem I make from your parts will stand mightily by my side at Rantarok. Oh, what carnage you will supply."

In Korestar's anger he did not immediately notice a rippling of cloth that was to his far left. Emerging from the tapestry was the wizard in his wrath. From his outstretched hands came a large blast of flame. It collected into a large fiery ball and shot forth aiming to destroy the Muladeen unaware.

Korestar saw the large blast of light and heat from the corner of his eye. He turned and faced the wizard's onslaught, falling back only just in time. As he moved backwards he brought up his left hand as he held his ice-javelin in his right to steady himself. A cold blast of mist shot forth from his fingertips connecting with the roaring ball of flame.

The fireball hissed and crystallized, forming into a massive ball of ice. The fire had been neutralized, but the momentum of the frozen projectile continued forth and smashed into Korestar, flinging him from his feet. His ice-javelin bounced, and clattered away from him.

Navreg the Reaper hissed and came forward revealing himself. Korestar turned his head, trying to watch his foe while making his way to his fallen weapon. He saw that the wizard was draped in a long heavy black cloak. It swayed with unseen or unfelt wind, and its movement revealed parts of the wizard's arms, legs, and face. White bones showed with fragments of scattered flesh, he was seemingly an undead creature that took the flesh of those he killed to cover his eternally hostile frame.

Navreg carried with him a tall scythe, the wooden handle being nearly his own height. The wood looked old like crumbling dust, but the blade was sharp and gleamed with red fire. The tip was black and splotched and dripped a slow moving oozy substance. Korestar knew at once that the blade was poisoned.

Korestar was scrambling to his feet, but Navreg was already whispering words to an incantation. Outstretching his right arm, the wizard screeched laughter, like bone being sawed. Greenish white bolts streamed from the wizard's bony figures. The force of the oncoming attack was powerful and electric.

Korestar had gained his feet, but still stood without his primary weapon. The Muladeen traced a rune of power before him and a shield like glass appeared before his body. The green lightning fire struck the protective shield causing it to bend and distort. Korestar knew the shield would not hold for long, so he retreated quickly and grasped up his ice-javelin.

The shield charm could hold no longer. The spell of the Reaper was too powerful and the bending shield shattered into a thousand small fragments, then they dissipated. The wizard stood watching the Muladeen, his red eyes gleamed as his loosely flesh covered mouth smiled. Worms and insects fell from the creature's mouth as it smiled, and the sounds of the slithering things were the beginnings of another spell.

Auras of light gleamed and grew in three sections of the floor of the chamber. They intensified and pulsed light of the same coloring as the lightning. The halos of light transformed and gave birth to monstrosities that now stood between Korestar and the Lord of Nightfire. Standing before the Muladeen were three insectoid creatures.

Their shapes were that of a roach, a centipede, and a red ant. They moved forward as soon as they became completely materialized. Their antennae wavered and clicked, and the pincers within their deadly maws chattered hideous dark words in the tongue of Devindal.

Korestar crouched in a battle stance. He was appalled by such cruel devilry. The Wizard Navreg knew his horror to his forced abomination and laughed cruelly. All the while the insectoid creatures came on.

Korestar became a whirl of motion. His ice-javelin struck and parried as the creatures moved forward to remove the holy fighter's flesh from his bones. Korestar dispatched the red ant first by freezing it from a stab of his mighty forged weapon and kicked it down, stomping on its head to shatter it. The other two followed in nearly similar fashion.

Once again the Reaper and the Muladeen faced one another. Korestar dripped blood now, for the insectoid creatures, though destroyed quickly, had torn bits of flesh from the mighty warrior. Navreg cast an envious glance to the floor where the chunks of bleeding flesh were located. In his black heart he desired to add that powerful flesh to his ever corrupted and perishing frame.

"You will never see Rantarok," Korestar said confidently as the two faced each other. "Though I may perish, and the lands of Nightfire go unconquered, you at least will not lead them to that final conflict of the Gods."

Navreg roared in clattering maniacal laughter. "You fool," he hissed. "Do you not see your own demise? You are no match for me here in the world of darkness. All will be consumed, the ruby walls and the golden tree shall wither and break and the dark tide shall sink all places as the stars of the Falina dim."

Korestar laughed in the face of his own doom. "Do you think I came to this dark place alone? Others have come with me, mortals, who now look to restore the balance that my Lord lost long ago."

The triumph in the Reaper's eyes dimmed and was replaced by a glimmer of fear and doubt. "You lie!" the wizard hissed.

"Do I?" retorted Korestar. "Do you think I came to this unseemly darkness to waste my life to only extinguish your unholy fire? Yes, I shall fall this day. But, you will come to the eternal darkness with me, wizard!"

Korestar lowered his ice-javelin and came forward with speed uncalculated by the wizard. Navreg lowered his scythe to block the frozen spear of his enemy and moved one hand away to cast a spell, but he was too late. Even as green lightning fire danced from the wizard's fingertips searing into the charging Muladeen, the ice-javelin found its mark and was buried deep into the wizard's black rotted heart.

There were mingled cries of pain and fury, and triumph and defeat. Both uttered their death cries. Navreg, as the bitter cold leaked forth into all regions of his body. And Korestar, as green and red flame melted his flesh from his mighty frame. Korestar's melting eyes glared into the dimming fiery orbs of the wizard that were slowly being covered with frost.

"Both sides will look for our coming, but neither shall see us amongst the ranks. My brothers will see my absence as a mark of honor and pride. Your cruel servants will see your absence as a reason to fear. And my Lord Mabaslu shall wear the Three Pendants and will vanquish his oldest foe!"

With the words out of his mouth, Korestar gave one final twist of his weapon, breaking it off into the fading wizard. Then he let go of his burning body and offered up his spirit and was honored by the deeds of his life. The wizard too, fell to the eternal gloom, but no comfort was there for him alone in the true and utter darkness. Then both bodies fell lifeless to the chamber floor as they entered the Void together.

...

Gilvias and Eliniza came through the portal and landed on top of Dogar and Leaf. The four companions lay there, piled on top of one another for many moments before they worked to untangle themselves. There were all in pain from the journey that they had just encountered. Though they were not seriously wounded, all of the voyagers across the deep realm of space were sore and stiff from the movement.

Eliniza was the first to get untangled from the others. She crawled a few feet away and then sat heavily on the ground. Her eye sockets ached painfully and she rubbed her temples, not willing yet to try and open her eyes. Her thoughts swam around the journey she had just taken, amazed by its suddenness and strange sites.

She remembered going through the portal. It felt like an icy wave crashing upon her and her skin prickled and felt electrified at the touch of it. Then she had been jolted and as she moved forth with a blazing speed, in which she was shaken and cast about like one on a broken plank in the ocean.

Then all had slowed and the movement seemed to recede. She was alone then, though somehow she knew she still clutched Gilvias' hand. But, what was revealed to her vision was awe-inspiring, and to her better judgment, impossible.

She looked out to the cosmos in all of its glory. There she had seen how things had been so many ages ago. She saw the planets lined up and the suns that cast light upon all the heavenly bodies. She saw nebulas being combed by the stellar threads of the Gods as they built new wonderments to their glorious achievements.

Looking past these things she saw all the great pillars that held together the Realms that were, before the Darkness came. Then she witnessed great explosions, and heroic and terrible deeds. She watched the War of the Gods unfold. She watched the transformation of the universe, as it became the Realms of Confusion.

Spiraling lights brought the great vision out of focus. The lights twirled and came together and formed what seemed a tunnel of rainbow colors. She was sent down that tunnel as all that passed seemed only to flicker, and then disappear. The tunnel ended and she was jettisoned into calm black space.

She looked around in the darkness. Distant stars gleamed like blue diamonds across the stretch of the Void. Her viewpoint began to turn as if she was slowly being rotated. Then she looked upon a planet slowly dancing its cosmic cycle on its axis. It was half-bathed in its star system's light. The rising light showed the world's brilliant colors of brown, green, and blue.

Eliniza was struck and felt the breath leave her body. Never had she seen anything so pristinely wondrous in its beauty. She felt humbled, and her mind fled and melted away. She became at peace within herself. The name of the world echoed in her mind.

Then, peaceful bliss had been torn away. It was like the murder of one's soul as it rested in paradise, only to be ripped and brought down screaming into the Abyss. The world of peace and innocence before her exploded and the fragments were either obliterated or flung into hidden recesses of the Forever Night Sea.

Eliniza had screamed in soundless horror. Her voice swallowed down by the roar of the destroyed world and by the magnitude of her sorrow. Tears became her face and her touch on life dimmed as she felt that she too had been destroyed. Consciousness resumed and she was amid a tangled heap of her friends and companions.

These thoughts all flooded back to her. But, she would not weep. What she had seen had transpired many ages ago. Her duty now was stronger within her than her sorrow.

Her head still throbbed, but she risked looking up now. Taking her head out of her hands, she gazed upon her surroundings. She gasped, bringing the others back to their senses. What she witnessed filled her with both sadness and wonderment.

"By Tevindal's Light," Gilvias whispered to himself as he sat up and looked about.

"By the beard on my chin, I have never seen the likes of this," echoed Dogar.

Leaf said nothing, for he was still trying to regain his breath from having three people, all which were larger than he, on top of him. Still, the wood nymph's head swiveled back and forth. His eyes were wide open and staring.

All about the companions was the vastness of the Forever Night Sea. But, its darkness was complimented by glowing light. Dim stars lit the ancient voids, while the crests of sprawling nebulas gave the fragmented world a hew of golden-red. A spiral of a galaxy of stars showed a white light, while in the depths of darkness swirled a gaping black hole, the trappings of its hunger swinging down into its might.

Thera that was, with its remnants were littered all about them. Small islands were broken away from each other at varying heights. The bottoms of the islands were clotted amounts of stone and dirt. Roots hung down from the long dead trees, which maybe once carried the raiment of a thousand colors of leaves.

The islands were few. Maybe all that remained could be gathered to form a small city that once graced the ancient world. Citadels and domed structures remained in ruins or in some case intact on many of the islands. Most importantly, the islands still seemed inter-connected, as if the world refused to let go of its once high esteemed glory.

A gleaming web of blue light connected the small floating islands. It was the fabric of the essence of the world still clutching as a retainer of long gone semblance. This would allow the party to move from one island to another, Eliniza knew. But she wondered if what was left of Thera was this small, then why had scavengers not yet found the last pendant?

In her thoughts she quickly answered her own question. The pendant must have been carefully hidden. Maybe the presence of the other two pendants would reveal its hiding place. These thoughts soothed her until when she tried to stand.

As the Half-Falina stood, with her immortal blood flowing through her veins, she felt as if a thousand knives had pierced her. She fell, and became rooted to the spot from which she had crawled upon. The pain slowly began to pass, and she attempted to stand again. This time she was successful. There was pain, but it was not as extreme as before.

Gilvias was at her side now, holding her. She noticed the others were up and concern painted their faces.

"Are you well, Meldina?" Gilvias whispered into her ear. His face was a mask of pain and foreboding.

Eliniza nodded and took a moment to collect her thoughts. She let her mind trace through her inner being. Using her Falina instincts she found the source of her pain.

"My blood has been poisoned by the passage here," she said to the vastness. "I was gifted the sight of things long since passed from time and space. It has changed me, and damaged me."

"Saw things?" Gilvias asked. He looked back to the others. They shook their heads, indicating that they had seen nothing from the voyage in the portal from the Dungeons of Nightfire to the last floating remnants of a destroyed Thera.

"Yes," she whispered. "Things that were, things I shall never speak about."

Gilvias glanced back again to the others. They were on their feet now, and composed. Turning his attention back to the woman he loved, he studied her. Her legs looked wobbly, but they did not appear that they would give.

He looked at her hands and, slightly, he could tell they trembled. His gaze made it up to her face. It was stern and her eyes looked out into the wreckage of the world with purpose and determination. Whatever ailments she suffered from internally, she would not let it affect the course of her mission.

"Gather your things," Gilvias said to the group. "I do not believe we will need weapons here," he said, glancing about. "But, keep them near at hand just in case."

...

They moved out then, led by Gilvias. Eliniza came next, leaning on her staff and holding the hand of her beloved. Leaf was sandwiched between the princess and the dwarf, who brought up the rear.

They crossed the small island the portal had deposited them on. It was empty save for old grass, which had somehow kept its green coloring throughout the countless ages since the world's fall. They moved towards one of the blue inter-connecting bridges of the world's reserved energy. Gilvias put his foot on it and saw that it was safe and solid. They crossed.

The island they came to was full of ruins of fallen structures. There was a building that was once covered by a high dome of marble and gilded in gold. Half of the dome had collapsed and fallen to the floor below. They made their way to the ruins of the ancient fortress and climbed over stonewalls and debris. They found nothing of worth and soon moved on.

That is how they found their stay in Thera. Moving from island to island searching ruined structure after ruined structure. Some of the fortresses they found had survived intact, but though they held priceless treasure they found not the heirloom they sought, and thus continued onward in their quest. The hours passed. Perceived days passed. Time was a non-descriptive quotient in Thera.

They had searched all of the scattered islands now, all save one. The remaining island was empty and void of anything. It was a dirt mound lost in a sea of the cosmic ocean. Dogar shook his head and grumbled. Leaf looked at the other with hopelessness in his eyes. Gilvias tried to hide the feeling of failure from his face, but Eliniza looked on, determination gripping her with her faraway look.

"We go to the last island," she said.

Dogar countered her proposal, "Why princess? We will find nothing there as we have found nothing everywhere else on this forsaken place. We are stuck here, doomed to live out eternity. Thirst and hunger do not even bother you here. Time is endless. We might as well have taken a portal to the Void."

"Then, master Stonecrusher, if we have all eternity, then it won't be a bother to check this last island," Eliniza said in rising anger.

Dogar mumbled and grumbled, but did not continue the argument. Leaf said nothing at all, but continued to look dejected. Gilvias patted his love on the shoulder and said simply, "lead the way."

Thus, they came forward to the last island of Lost Thera. Though they did not know it, the Voyage of the Four was nearing its end, and its ending would produce heartache and sadness. They moved towards the bridge that gapped the nothingness of the Forever Night Sea to the small landmass beyond.

Though Gilvias had told his love to lead the way, the actual duty fell onto Leaf. He walked in front not wanting the others to see his face. He wanted to weep. He loved his companions, but it had been long since he had seen one of his own kin and the tall Woll Woods of his own world.

He knew the paths they had treaded led to many dangers, many that could have ended his life. That had not stopped him though. But, now the thought of being imprisoned in a lost region of the cosmos was almost too much to take. His heart was shattering.

It was Leaf that came first to the crossing of the blue energy bridge. He walked up to it with his head looking downward. He wondered if he could jump and float back to his own planet, back when it was just he and Gilvias treading the wild after all their deadly encounters. As he moved forward, his body was wracked with pain, as he was stopped dead by what could only be an unseen barrier. The wood nymph fell backwards onto the ground.

Leaf looked towards the invisible wall and at the bridge. He was both confused and in a little bit of pain. He shook head to clear his thoughts. The others were at his side as he began to stand.

For the first time since coming to Thera the companions had their weapons drawn. Gilvias quickly asked Leaf if he was okay, and then questioned him on what had happened. Leaf quickly retold his tale. Gilvias listened, and then sheathed Coldyne, thinking the weapon was not needed.

Gilvias walked up to where he had seen Leaf strike the invisible barrier. He stretched out his hand with caution. He touched the unseen wall and it trembled beneath his fingers. He saw a flicker and a small glow outlining the wall. Eliniza came up beside him and at her presence the wall shone brightly with a flash.

The two shielded their eyes. When they looked back they saw the pendant that each wore around their necks pulse and hum. The shield wall before them started to melt away, starting at its center. Soon it was completely gone and the passage was clear. Both Eliniza and Gilvias stepped onto the bridge.

As they moved onto the bridge the illusion they had been previously shown was eradicated. On the small deserted island appeared a temple that had upon it a gold dome with a statue of the Goddess Saera on top of it. Eliniza looked at Gilvias, who looked back at her dumbly. The four proceeded onward.

There was a short staircase of granite that led up to an open doorway. They took to the stairs and went forth cautiously, hands upon hilts, though none believed in their hearts that they would need their weapons within the hidden temple. They walked through the door and looked at the elements that were inside.

There was a long hall, which sent echoes forth from each footfall. No murals or statues stood as ornaments in the great hall. It was empty, save those that were passing its long hidden walkway. They traveled the hall to its end and came to stand underneath the tall dome they had seen from outside.

Leaf gasped audibly, while Dogar put his hands upon the wood nymph's shoulders in joy. The dwarf turned back to the ranger and the two shared a smile. Gilvias squeezed Eliniza's hand and looked at her to share a smile with her as well, but she looked not to Gilvias. Nor did she smile.

Before the four voyagers of worlds stood an altar, which rested the Pendant of Dark Flame. Behind the altar was an archway, like the frame they had found and traveled through from the Dungeons of Nightfire. This frame had not fallen into decay though; it was of crystal and held within it many jewels of red fire.

Gilvias studied Eliniza's face. "Is there a trap?" he asked her. She took her eyes away from the pendant and looked at Gilvias. "No," she responded, her eyes sinking into sadness. "There is no trap."

Before the ranger could ask her more she moved toward the altar, slowly, reverently. Bending low, Eliniza grasped the Pendant of Dark Flame in her hands. She exhaled deeply, and then turned to the others.

"We have completed our quest," she said triumphantly, but full of woe. "The portal behind us can be opened and travel can be made back to the Realm of the Crystal Blue."

Gilvias looked on, frightened and speechless. Leaf looked happy and content, not noticing the anguish on Eliniza's face. Dogar moved forward, ever the protector of the princess, before their destiny fell in with Gilvias and Leaf.

"My Lady," the dwarf said tenderly. "What vexes thee? There is sadness and despair when there should be cause for joy."

Eliniza moved forward. Her hand reached out and caressed her old friend's face. Dogar's carved face was creased in worry. Dogar lifted a large calloused hand and touched the gentle fingers that moved across his cheek. A tear fell from his face.

"I cannot go with you," she said, her eyes intent on Gilvias. The ranger reacted as if he had been struck. Dogar let out a low groan. Leaf finally noticed something strange was going on.

"What do you mean?" Gilvias asked. His eyes were wide and confused.

Eliniza lowered her head for a moment before looking back at Gilvias. "My blood has been poisoned, my love. I cannot leave this place. If I go, I will be mortally wounded."

Silence ensued as Gilvias and the others tried to comprehend what she had told them. She would not being going back to the Realm of the Crystal Blue. She would not be leaving the islands of Thera. Eliniza looked upon the man that she loved and knew it would be the last time they would ever be together.

Eliniza handed the Pendant of Dark Flame and the pendant that she wore around her neck to Gilvias. "Go my love," she said to him. "Go quickly. I cannot bear this torment any longer."

Both Dogar and Leaf wept openly now. Both were unashamed of their shed tears. Gilvias moved up to the woman he loved and used a finger to gently lift her face to his.

"I will go nowhere without you," he said in a fierce quiet voice. "If stay you must, then stay I will too."

"You cannot," she said, and choked on fresh tears that washed over her. "I cannot condemn you to this prison."

Gilvias smiled amongst his tears. "Prison?" he asked. "No, my love, not a prison, but a paradise. I will share all the time the Realms of Confusion shall have with my beloved. I cannot ask for a greater gift."

Then through her shield of tears she smiled. And through her joy she laughed and shed more tears. These tears were now of happiness, rather than sadness.

Then did the two lovers turn and look to their friends. And they too wept more tears, happy for their friends' love together. But, the tears were also those of sadness, for they would be forever separated from their dear friends.

Leaf spoke up and said he would stay too, but Gilvias shook his head.

"You must go back. Ever have you been my truest friend and companion. But, your journey is not meant to end here. Go back to the Woll Woods. Long have I known you missed them, though you never dared to say it."

Leaf conceded, and the two embraced for a long time. Eliniza was holding Dogar; the two had also shared words. Dogar then embraced Gilvias, and Eliniza embraced Leaf. Dogar was then given the Three Pendants of Mabaslu, and he and Leaf headed to the portal.

The dwarf held up the pendants and their combined power opened up the portal. In his mind, the dwarf told the portal where their destination was to be. The wavy flickering within the crystal shined and on the other side the water kingdom could be seen.

Both Dogar and Leaf turned back to Gilvias and Eliniza, who stood in each other's arms. No more words were said. With sad smiles and waves of forever good-bye, both the dwarf and wood nymph turned and entered the portal. It closed behind them and the ranger and princess saw them never again.

Thus, the Three Pendants were returned to Mabaslu and the tale was recounted in full. The Lord of the Waters listened to their tale in both hope and sadness. He had lost many of the Muladeen that were dear to him, and those that had embarked on the dangerous mission had been forever separated from their friends.

Dogar and Leaf had many more adventures. Though, none of their journeys took them into danger. Dogar came back to the Woll Woods with Leaf. There the dwarf built two houses, side by side, where the two friends lived next to each other to the end of their days.

Of the Four Voyagers, none came ever to the Tower of the Dead to fight in the Cosmic Battle of Rantarok. All four forsook the call that came to them from Druwren Starfallen. Each had decided they had seen enough of war and battle. Thus, Dogar's and Leaf's souls made their way to the place that all souls go, though none truly know where that is. As for Gilvias and Eliniza, they lived in bliss on the islands of Thera until, well, until the end of all things.

Of the Calling to Battle:

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on the Fields of Rantarok, the ancient city of Fernoth stood looking out to the wasted fields that would be the home of the last of the great battles. Calic and Kord were drawn out from their endless love and at last foreboding filled their pure hearts, and about them was a great clamor of those that were assembling for battle.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the deepness of its forgotten and misty seas, the call for battle was heard in the Tower of the Dead. Mighty Achaines rose from his throne and his face was filled with a dreadful smile. Behind him came spirits of old bearing arms and names of great renown. They ushered from the gate of the tower in splendor and magnificence. Across the sea they drifted like echoes of the past, and their cry for war lifted into the confines of eternity.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And in Stirlyn, on the northern reaches of Frost Wave Lake, stood the Citadel of Blue Frost. There an old man sat cloaked upon his throne and with the baying of the Trumpet of Doom he stood, and rising he grew into the mighty Ice Giant Belun. His servants Huginn and Muninn brought forth his weapons and armor, and he set forth with a mighty roar for war.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And in the deep depths of the Forever Night Sea, the Ancient Stars of the Falina heard the call to battle. There in the deep realms of darkness the stars hatched, and when open they gave birth to the warriors that had known more than one cycle of the turning light. And the Falina came forth, donned in many different raiment, and their swords were bright and of many glittering colors. Their coming to war was like the awakening of the past.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the shelter of the tall trees of Centaur Grove, awoke the centaurs of old. Their casings of stone fell away and they stood there unblemished by time. From their backs they took their bows, and they had full quivers of many arrows, and they left their solitude to take their place in the greatest of all wars.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on the Realm of the Floating Wind stood Cloud Keep. And the wind blew wild with the coming storm and howled with wicked abandon. Rising from his throne of white came Tormar, God of Wind and with him the Sky Giants, his majestic servants. They blew forth and rode the thunder to the Field of Rantarok.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the blissful peace of the Lost Forest, the call to battle was heard. There the birds stopped their song and the leaves lost their glimmering gold and were dimmed in darkness. Klemyni, God of Earth, heard the sound of woe. But he looked to his Chosen, the White Elks, and they left the tall trees forever and went forth to sadness.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the mists of Gloomy Lake, Vigilla, Goddess of Protection, looked out the window of her tower chamber. She sank her head in weariness at the Trumpet of Doom, and went forth with only her companion, the Keeper of the Gloom, to protect the ruby walls of the fortress Fernoth.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on the Realm of the Crystal Blue, deep under the waves of water, the Call of Doom echoed its way to the Tower of Undersea Shadows. And sitting upon his Throne of Pearl arose Mabaslu, God of the Waters, and he grasped Galdring, his trident, and bellowed forth bubbles of anger. Around the God's neck glittered the Three Pendants of Power. He swam forth, followed by his soldiers, the Muladeen, and their bright scales shimmered like armor and ice. And their faces were that of lions and they carried with them javelins of frozen flame.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And in the Chamber of Sacred Light, Forlen heard the call. He stood and burst forth with blinding light as he swept through his halls. Then leaping forth like a meteorite he sailed the dark current to Rantarok

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. Deep in the Forever Night Sea rested the Temple of Runes. At the blare of the Trumpet, Saera, Goddess of Wisdom, stopped her transcribing of time. Then she stood and in eagerness she left to go and record the last of the great deeds of the Gods.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. On the Realm of Storms, where lightning and destruction are the means of bliss, Uila Ilio, the Lightning Wolf, looked up from his slaughter. His eyes gleamed a golden red in anticipation, and about him the Wargon, Wolves of Dread, howled their eerie approval. They came, the pack of death to its final hunt to kill all that it could.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, deep in Darkwood Forest where the shadows lay thick, was the opening to Wight Cavern. From its depths came the Wight, Garmornosh of Old, King of Werewolves. His howl transcended the realms, drowning out those from the Realm of Storms.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the tall pinnacle of Moon Blood Tower sat the Wizard Scourge. He heard the Trumpet and he contemplated his plans. Below, the gate of the tower rose and from the accursed tower ushered forth his army of slaves. Scourge hesitated, his face turning ghoulish and green, and he left for Rantarok.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the web spun Forest of the Spider King moved Gorgaia, King of Spiders. He was black with many eyes, and had fangs that dripped venom. At his beckoning came with him all the spiders of the forest, large and small, and they went to feast on the carcasses of heroes.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. On the Realm of Darkness roared Foramor Bala, the Blind Giant. For four centuries he had remained unconquered, unvanquished, and all that challenged him fell under his wrath. He hungered for more, for mightier warriors to slay, and as the Trumpet of Doom blared its voice across the Realms of Confusion, the Blind Giant smiled, for he knew he would get his chance.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. On the Sphere of Antion, the Witches of Alordian rose from their tombs of horror and stood still and stunned. They looked out across the void, down the Ridge Cliffs, to the Shores of Twilight beyond. And swarming through the Forever Night Sea were those that traveled to battle.

Then they descended from their place and taking with them devices of cruelty went forth and called the Eleven Nameless, the remaining Dread Lords. The Dread Lords came donned in black armor, like mists of darkness that clung to their very souls. They are the most corrupted of all beings, Falina of old, but twisted thralls of devilry. As the protectors of the Witches, they skimmed the Forever Night Sea to Rantarok where they wished to shed the blood of their ancient kin.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And across all the realms where evil has corrupted the seams of time came the orcs from their pits and towers. They bellowed in rage and their song was a chorus of crashing cymbals played with full force and out of sync. But, the orcs too were afraid of what awaited them at Rantarok and many slew themselves to forgo such a fate, but the rest were ushered by their captains to battle and death.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And from across the realms lumbered the trolls from their mountains and caves. They traversed the currents of the Forever Night Sea, wielding weapons of powerful destruction. And as battlements they stood on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok as a threat to the ancient city of Fernoth.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. On the Sphere of Antion, in the Enchanted Forest of Blue Leaves, came the Gragaurs, spider-lizards spawned from the mutated breeding of the spiders of the forest and of the lizards of the Cosmic Dust Fields. They dragged their way across the coolness of the Solar Sands and drifted off the Shores of Twilight into the Forever Night Sea, and past the nebulas beyond. Coming to Rantarok they united their forces with Gorgaia, the Spider King.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. In the Under World that spans the Realms, the Demon Gorgs made of shadow and darkness heard the call in their halls of stone and death. Their withering forms transcended from the depths and came to the lands of light, but they suffered it, and those that saw them knew that the time of the end had come as it had been foretold.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, in the Demon Bog west of the Mountains of White Shadow, the Goloths roamed their cesspool of gloom and muck. The note of the Trumpet of Doom became dulled in the thickness of the murky pools of the bog, and Goloths came out of their home moving slowly, being demons of rot and rancid decay. And they left, so that they would be able to spread their sickness and disease on the Fields of Rantarok.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Snowfell, land of ice and winter cold, the Dark Elves gathered in their caves for war. But, at the Trumpet's call they came not to the Fields of Rantarok. Instead, they descended down mountainous slopes and came upon the Barbarian Clans where they slew many on the opening onslaught. And there the sustained battle hindered the Barbarian Clans from coming to Rantarok. The battle was bloody and fierce, and the clashing of the armies caused the ground to quake. Hence the mountains shook and trembled, and the snows held at their summits were shaken loose and the land split open. Thus, both the Dark Elves and Barbarian Clans were utterly destroyed and none of either came to the Last Battle of the Gods at Rantarok.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. At the Portal of the Underworld, the undead Demon of Fire, Dranaur, heard the Trumpet's call. He spread his wings, which wore the raiment of darkness and the splendor of burning flame. He left his chamber through the portal of green glow and fled with a whip of fire and sword of black steel, and came to the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok to join the ranks of demons and the defiled.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, deep in the furnace of the Boiling Sea, rose the Fire Mountain on the Isle of Death. The Fire Mountain rose up like a pillar of black stone wreathed in shadow and ash, adorned by flame. Deep in the bowels of its fire were the Halls of the Abyss, the ancient prison of the trapped dead, and the means of misery and woe to those confined to its hellish torture. The halls are guarded by the Bull Witches, beasts of might and magic, and overseen by the God of Destruction, Faluvad the Dragon of Fire. Wrapped in slumber over his treasure of souls, Faluvad awoke at the Trumpet's Call, and gathered the Bull Witches to go forth to battle. As he left his doomed halls forever, he cast the souls of the departed into the Circle of Fire, so that they may burn until the ending of all times.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, deep in Black Mountain Side, which sits hidden under the horrors of the Mountains of White Shadow, rested the domain of Qulelil, the Goddess of Undoing. In her hallowed caves of dripping droplets of carving water, Qulelil stood. The sound of the Trumpet boomed and echoed throughout her domain and she was thrown from her feet. But her servant, the Soulless Knight, lifted her up and together they left and came to Rantarok to undo the mighty work of Breina, the Goldenflower of old.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. In the Dark Star, where the ruin of the Crescent Tower of Fallen Light once stood, before it was leveled and left to rot in its own decay, came forth Aviar, God of Darkness, from his throne of ash and blue shadow. With him were the last of the ranks of Drakun, the evil spirits that had once claimed the Towers of Twilight from their Falina protectors long ago. They spilled into the darkness of the Forever Night Sea, reveling in its infinite shadow, riding its currents to doom and destruction.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. In the pits of some lost hell, uncharted and unknown in the Realms of Confusion, the call to battle was heard. And in his smithy, the Dark Smith, Gorthar, stopped his deeds of evil design and hefted his War Hammer, Groth.

He roared and laughed his hideous malice, and from his dungeons were released those vilest creations that he had saved for this moment. They came to him, seven monsters of no name, but more terrible than all the races of orcs and spiders, or trolls or werewolves that had come before. With his army he ascended from the depths to a land of thunder and fire, and left that place to wreak havoc on the Fields of Rantarok.

And then the Trumpet of Doom was sounded. Its song coursed true through the Realms of Confusion, stopping every soul and identifying the end of a time. And on Corthan, under the Sea of Monsters, where the fortress once stood on the Isle of the Sea Towers, the ground shook. The earthquake cracked the earth, and the seas and lands of the world were swallowed down and ended in ruin.

But, from the fissure rose an evil spirit that had lain entombed for millennia. The darkness of the soul moved past the flowing destruction of the world, and was given new flesh and a mantle of death and darkness. Forged anew were the fragments of his ancient sword, Blood Storm, and his new armor was black and thick. He wore a crown of shadows on his brow and his eyes were fires of death. So came again Myr, Coirsc of the Dunlyne, to usher in the end of the Torlyne, in hope that it would be the Light's last cycle.

Of the Assembly of Battle: The Forces of Tevindal

And then the ranks of those who would fight on the sides of good and evil came to the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok. Those that followed the Light and stood under of the Grace of Tevindal came to Fernoth, the ancient city that was once called the Isle of the Golden Tree, and there they held council. But those of evil intent, under the sway of Devindal, Lord of Darkness, made their camp on the edge of the Fields of Rantarok, where black holes and darkness swirled. Thunderheads gathered above them and lightning fell like rain, and a dark tide swept in with the cosmic wind that flowed forth with the risen Prince of Darkness, Myr.

And before the start of the Cosmic War, there was battle. The hordes of evil fought amongst themselves, wishing not to submit under any rule or champion, but wishing to perform their own deeds and align their own lines for the preparations of war. Indeed, many were slain in this hour before Myr thundered his voice across the field, commanding the fighting to stop. Within the walls of Fernoth there was no rejoicing, for they were still outnumbered, and the lives lost in the infighting were relatively few.

Then there was a chime, and its source none knew naught. It silenced the field, and for many moments there was no sound as the quiet took its place before the crashing doom that would soon invoke the worlds. Then the thunder answered, and it was powerful and shook the mighty walls of Fernoth. The forces of Tevindal looked up from their council, and knew that time was now scarce and they left the Golden Spire and went towards the gate to meet the destiny that had been long foretold.

Leading the forces of Tevindal was Mighty Achaines, and he gleamed in a beam of light that echoed forth a twilight glow from the trees of Fernoth. At his side was Druwren Starfallen, and his eyes shone like frozen ice, and at his side was Glacier, his frozen sword. As they reached the gate, Achaines stopped and fell to his knees. At the gate was a spirit of the past, the ancient one that had once fallen into ruin when her lover displayed his anguish over her turned heart.

The spirit spoke to Achaines and he wept, and all about him fell into awe, and only Druwren Starfallen was unmoved. Before the mighty host that had gathered to smite all of the fiends of darkness in the worlds was Breina, the Goldenflower who was Achaines' mother. She sang and her voice was soft and tenderly beautiful. And all the glory and things good were revealed in their hearts, and awakened there too was a fire to defend it heedlessly, without fear.

In that hour there was a second chime, and with it weapons were drawn and the forces of Tevindal, the Lord of Light, bellowed forth a roar of wrath, which outweighed the thunder. The clouds above Fernoth were dispersed and Tevindal's Light poured down upon it. And Fernoth, the jewel city of all times and realms gleamed a golden red, and it looked as if it burned with a holy fire. Then in that moment there was a third chime, and the gate was thrown open and the host of Tevindal ushered forth onto the Cosmic Field of Rantarok.

Then the host of Tevindal began to form lines for battle. At its front stood the army's two captains. The first was Mighty Achaines, once known as Achaines Rantar, Captain of the Telimaki Guard in a time when he was but a mortal, before he rose to the ranks of divinity. The other was the fallen Silverstar, and at his side was his faithful hound, Marli, which had been at his side through many trials and tribulations.

Achaines stood silent and still. His eyes were ever on the forces that gathered across the field in a dark dew of shadow. But, Druwren Starfallen was a war captain and he was not afraid, but more than any of the gathered company of Tevindal wished to find vengeance and the darkness of death, for his heart is always with that, which was lost. And in the first line were the Heroes of the Realms, which had been gathered up into the confines of the Tower of the Dead.

At its farthest end stood the only one of those that entered not into the Halls of the Tower of the Dead, for death had never claimed him, but his deeds in life earned him this grand honor. Thus stood Belun, the Ice Giant of Stirlyn, and he was masked in helm with horns that curled upward to form a single point. And his skin was blue, and blue was the color of his long beard, which was adorned with ice that sparkled like jewels gathered from the deep places in the worlds.

His eyes shone brightly like sapphires. And about him was mail of closely linked chains, and there was a belt of silver that girded the mail at his waist. The mail was long, and it ended just above his boots. But, his arms were left bare, and they were pale like the light of the moon during autumn, and about his wrists were bracelets of power wrought in gold.

He hefted forth his axe with a haft of ashen wood and with blades made from iron and steel. Gloradon it was called, and its light was that captured from the depths of the frozen ice of the lake that was about his home. Belun uttered one word to the foes across the field, and it was Bellaruun, the name of his ancient kin, so that they may aid their strength to his before he should fall into the doom that awaited him.

Standing next to Belun was a hero of great renown, though by the side of the Ice Giant, diminished his stature of body. A dwarf he was, an ancient friend of the Ice Giant Belun, though they shared no true adventure together. His name was mighty and written in the confines of time and legends that transcend the plains of the different realms, and his name was Sarik Moonwater.

He hailed from the Mines of Kanazar buried deep under the Mountainous Sea on the Realm of the Snowcapped Peaks. Old and gruff, and during his long life he faced many wars with his people, and with those tribes that called Moon Haven their home. He stood in mail that was dull and dented and wore a helm that was round and capped. His eyes were like a winter wind, cool and full of bite. He carried a silver shield that was broad and thick, and in his grasp was his axe, which was tall and shaped like the slender moon.

Sarik Moonwater looked about him and spat his defiance against the dark tide before him, which was the release of his nervousness. For he was a dwarf, and though he had served in many conflicts under the open sky, he still wished for the close comfort of tunnels and halls of rock and stone. As he stood prepared for the call that would propel him into his last mighty moments, he thought of all his adventures and smiled. He knew that he had never turned from the path of honor and had made his ancestors proud.

To the right of Sarik Moonwater stood his adopted son, Dagen Vrance. Found as an infant in a blanket of snow by Sarik Moonwater, Dagen Vrance grew to be a powerful blue-skinned Teliton Tribesman of Snowfell. He stood there and looked upon his adopted father and smiled. He drew forth his icesword, Frost Star, and it gleamed like a Falina blade of old, and those across the field that saw it were afraid.

Dagen Vrance's armor also shown brightly in the light, being of silver trimmed in gold. The helm that he pushed down on his head was rounded and covered his eyes with sockets, which he could see from. Then he stood still and looked deep into his own thoughts, and there he saw many things. But what stayed with him was his last memory of his family who had passed out of being countless years before.

His family had been slaughtered as they fled from a storm conjured by Devindal. Dagen had fallen in the snow as the Ice Trolls slew his family and tribes people. There he had stayed, alone in the darkness and cold, until Sarik plucked him from the earth during his hunt for Count Lanto. Dagen set his jaw and looked again at his adopted father, and was proud to have been raised by him. But today Dagen Vrance would not fight for the dwarf he had known for generations uncounted. Today he would fight for the family he never really knew.

Next in the line of the Heroes of the Realms was Zain Lamtred, friend and companion to Dagen and Sarik. A dwarf cleric, Zain was a master of magic, gifted to him from his reverence of Forlen, the God of Light. He stood still, a war hammer inscribed in runes of enchantment cradled in his arms. He said a prayer and lowered himself to a knee in respect to the presence of his chosen deity. He grumbled words and the man to his right laughed a loud nervous laugh. But Zain was content, even with the doom that was impending over them. He would do things as he had always done, with honor, and he would send as many foul minions of Devindal to the Void as possible.

Thus, the line came to Jase Zalendar. A rogue and braggart, who carried with him something in his eyes that the others had not, fear. Jase drew his rapier from his side and held it out before him. And the blade shook, but no one spoke of it, though many of the line saw it. Sweat trickled down his neck, and as a wind blew its way across the field he shuddered, and wished to turn and flee. But at that moment a comforting hand rested itself upon his shoulder. Jase Zalendar turned and looked at Zain, and the old dwarf spoke words of comfort. Then Jase lowered his blade and with a deep breath he found an unlooked for calm and for the first time he let go of his fear. The heroes of Stirlyn were gathered in one place once again. And they would go together to spin forth one last legend of their heroic deeds.

Next to the company that once saved the Kingdom of Stirlyn, stood those that had once answered the call from Mighty Achaines to invade the Sphere of Antion and do battle with the disciples of the Enchantress. And they were Star Evenwind, Voldar Firesword, Ogrey Runebane, and Layulana Whitetree.

Star Evenwind stood proud with light gleaming about her and red hair lined in purple streaks blew about her face. She was one from a line of bravery, and was once from a knighthood called Linaan Tu' Terrin, or the Keeper of the Stars. She too had skin that was the color of blue ice. She was tall and beautiful and full of passion. She carried a long sword called Sapphire in the honor of Heaven's Star, and had with her a shield that was small and round. The name of that shield is L'terin, the Shield of Stars and is adorned with diamonds.

Delivered upon the Shores of Twilight, she had led her company through many adventures until they at last came face to face with the Witches of Alordian and did battle. But alas, their victory was not completed as they had believed, and the witches were not slain but put under a deep sleep, from which they awoke at the calling of the Trumpet. But, in the bright emerald eyes of Star Evenwind there was a fire, and she deemed in her heart to accomplish the deed, which she had been sent forth to do countless years before. And she drew her sword and its blue blade burned with an azure fire.

Beside Star awaiting the call of battle, was Voldar Firesword. Before his time at the Tower of the Dead, and before the calling to the Shores of Twilight, he was a Talidon or Hunter, the ones who tracked down dangerous criminals and minions of Devindal, and he was fierce. Though his name carried the title of sword, he carried not a blade. But, he brought into battle a powerful mace of gleaming red stone.

His skin was tan and dark and his hair was shaven from his head. He wore a corset of chain mail over a dark tunic of green. His eyes were gray like storm clouds, and in his left hand he kept hidden a silver dagger given to him by Achaines. His hand was swift and strong, and those that opposed him met their ruin. As cloud and storm moved forth, his mace dimmed not, but shown the brighter until it seemed like a fiery torch to lead those from darkness.

Then Voldar bent down and gave thanks to those gifts given to him throughout the ages. And the fire that burned about his weapon burned ever the brighter in his heart. Then he stood and was still and wished only to end his second life in glory. But he knew glory would not reign upon the Field of Rantarok, being only the foretold doom to all that gathered there in that ancient place. But he was content to serve Tevindal and offer up that which is given without fear or regret.

Tall and bent like a withered reed stood Ogrey Runebane. Wise and old is his appearance, but his eyes were full of youth and vigor. And in his time before he was chosen by Achaines and set in eternity as a mighty Hero of the Realms, he was an advisor to the king of Grey Slate in the kingdom of Plantyr. Upon his face was a long beard that was white like the clouds that grace the sky, and his head was without hair and smooth.

He carried with him the gift of Achaines to use in battle against the Witches of Alordian. It was a staff of ashen wood called simply the Lunar Staff, and it carried with it the power of moonlight and other powers and enchantments of sleep and weariness. The staff in later days became the symbol and weapon of the Protectors of the Throne, the wizard advisors and bodyguards of the King of Plantyr. Ogrey Runebane wore no armor, but upon his right hand was a gauntlet of magical powers and about it a red fire gleamed when he went into battle.

There beside Ogrey stood no one, but at his side hovered Layulana Whitetree, a fairy princess of old, and she was small and beautiful. Her wings are forever at work, like a hummingbird they move like a blur and she can move with quick and darting speed, which surprises her enemies. Her hair is the color of green grass, and her skin pale like cream, and her eyes are purple, which is the color of the royal line of the fairies.

She is full of joy and laughter, even when faced with danger incalculable. With her she carries a small bow and a wand of healing. At her side is a quiver of magic arrows that never empties. But now in the face of the doom of the Gods and the destruction of the Realms, her laughter was stayed and a single tear streaked her fair face. As she waited, she pulled an arrow from her quiver and notched it, and from the distance of the Field of Rantarok she sought out the foe she would slay first.

There at the side of Layulana stood two, who were not of great renown, and their deeds were forgotten by legends and tales and books and histories knew not their names. But, their deeds of valor in life were not overseen, for from the pinnacle of the Tower of the Dead, Druwren Starfallen witnessed them in battle when they were surrounded by foes on all sides. There they slew many orcs and, with them, a demon of Devindal called Fog, who was cloaked in darkness and once threatened the land of Sanistair long ago.

Their names were Firiona Rainbolt and Ryler Hanzar, and they were but simple people who wielded simple weapons. Firiona and Ryler were lovers, and they went to the Grasslands of the northwest peninsula to look out to the sea and the ice lands to the north. There the lovers were waylaid by enemies of the Tower Keep of Sanistair and surrounded. The monsters believed they had captured the heirs of the king.

And as the demon Fog and his slaves advanced to slay the lovers, Firiona brought forth her bow and wishing to defend her love she sent arrow after arrow into the ranks of the orcs. Fog saw that these were not his prey and his anger deepened, and he came forth thinking to slay Firiona, but Ryler stopped him. Brandishing a pole arm of his forefathers that was rusty and dull, Ryler rushed forth and did battle with Fog. There in a circle of foes there was a great duel and Ryler slew Fog, but was in turn slain by the demon's last thrust and both exited the world of life. And Firiona, seeing her lover slain threw down her bow and in her last act of life grasped Ryler's fallen weapon, and she fought killing many orcs until she at last fell, pierced by many arrows.

So through their valor Druwren went to Achaines and asked for the redemption of their souls. So the two lovers met each other once again in the Halls of the Tower of the Dead, and now stood on the Field of Rantarok to end their second life in the same fashion they had left their first. Donning the same weapons they did once long ago they stood hand in hand to pay debt to the extension of their love.

To the right of the lovers stood Sarah Valaka, the shield maiden and wife to the God of War, Achaines. Her hair was long and red. Her face painted blue for war. And she carried with her a bow that was handcrafted in the Halls of Faith during the Dunlyne. And her eyes were fierce and full of flame for battle.

She stood behind her husband with a full quiver on each hip. The tips of her arrows were made of black coral from beneath the flowing seas. Upon her was a corset of leather and she wore a leather helm and a kilt of green. She had about her neck a pendant of protection in the shape of a turtle.

As she stood there with the wild wind blowing back her hair, one word escaped her mouth. And the word transcended the storm and came across to the side of the enemy. The word was heard by the mounting force of Devindal and from it they sunk into doubt. And the word was 'Alaula', which means, 'the dawn'.

Beside his wife stood he who would lead the forces of Tevindal's Banner into the last of the great battles, the God of War, Achaines. He wore many colors as his raiment. For green is the color of his armor, Forest Wind, and gold the color of his shield, Sun Flame. And Achaines drew his sword, Heaven's Star, and it bathed the Field of Rantarok in a haze of blue light. There upon the blade a blue flame rippled down from the point to hilt. And he swept the blade forth in menacing fashion and then held it before him prepared for war.

There at the side of Achaines stood Druwren Starfallen, the ancient king of Merlaa, and victor against Myr at the Battle of the Sea Towers. His eyes were full of fury and wrath, and he among the heroes of old radiated like a thunderbolt and his sword hand grasped the hilt of his blade. Thus, he drew forth Glacier, the icesword given to him by the Ice Giants of Scand, and the air about him crackled and grew cold.

By his side his faithful hound, Marli, howled, and the wail was both sorrowful and full of vengeance. For today was the day of days, and the spilt blood of the past would be paid for. Marli's black fur stood on end and he looked to his master, waiting for his command to charge into battle. And Druwren looked upon his friend, and at that moment on the edge of all darkness, he smiled. Marli's tongue lolled from his mouth and he licked his master's hand, and Druwren stroked the hound's thick fur with gentle kindness.

There with Druwren, the fallen Silverstar, and his hound, Marli Wolf Slayer, stood the Ice Giant that granted the blade Glacier to Druwren Starfallen long ago. Thus stood Narok, friend and foe, the one who befriended Druwren in his deepest darkness during the days of the fall of Merlaa and the loss of its queen. He stood with no weapon, for he would go forth to war with his hands full of wrath for the enemy and his minions.

Tall he stood and bearded, but he looked not like the Ice Giant Belun of Stirlyn. Instead he was like that of a giant man, and his long hair and beard were black, and his face and body were littered with many tattoos. His skin was tough and fair, and his eyes were dark like shadows. And Narok was dressed in thick furs and hides of slain beasts from the mountains.

Then he bellowed, remembering his last moments of his life long ago when he fought side by side with the heroes that stormed the Sea Towers and overthrew the evil power that was gathering there. And it was he that held the last tower up so that his captain and friend could do battle with the Prince of Darkness to avenge his slain wife. As his strength had succumbed, he had bellowed in rage and tore down the towers and was swallowed up by rock and stone. There under the Sea of Monsters his mortal body perished, but only to be brought forth once again to finish what he had started.

In the line of the Heroes of the Realms came six more warriors of the grandest renown. And they were Zet Lightwater, Aoifa Cerid, Gungnir Heimdrel, Alean Syr, Kumul Seafire, and Nesiauan Kriznash. They are known for their deeds during the War of the Towers of Twilight when the Dark Star threatened to undo all that was good upon Corthan.

The greatest of them was Zet Lightwater. Blonde was his hair that blew in the wind of war. His eyes were green like emerald jewels, and jewels were littered upon his corset of mail. He stood there, tall and fair, like a bright light, and in that hour he drew Stormwind and about the blade lightning danced. Then thunder once again sounded its voice, and it was in defiance to the blade drawn by the hero of the Towers of Twilight.

Fluttering in Zet's shadow was Aoifa Cerid, a fairy from Crystal Keep before it fell into ruin during the breaking of the world. She was small and beautiful with her hair full of red tangles and adorned in green cloth and flowers. And within her slender fingers were mystical powers of magic. But upon her belt was a small silver dagger encased in a ruby sheath.

Standing there tall and proud was Gungnir Heimdrel, Prince of Anwyn, the capital city on the edges of the Plains of the King in the land of Ariwrath. He stood there looking out to the din of horror as one looking for a new kingdom to forge. His spirit was both gentle and fierce, and he feared no evil. But there on the edges of Rantarok all spirits waiver, for it is a place of no hope, and the only hope is to die with many enemies slain at your feet.

Gungnir held tall his mighty spear, Avatari, and its point shone like silver fire. About him was his plated armor, which was polished and shone brightly. So, thus he stood like a shining star, and a king that never was. And he desired to go once again into battle with those whom he served with in ages past.

Forever by his side stood Alean Syr, Exiled King of Mistborne Forest. From his sheath he slipped forth his blade Telkist made long before his people were scattered by the goblins and the unholy beasts from the dungeons underground. The sword was short and sharp and was the color of the yellow beams from the Tower of Sunrise. Alean wore a breastplate of dark silver and upon it was engraved the Two Swans of Peace, which were lost long ago.

He stood in silent thought, his thoughts transcending to a place he had seen only once in his waking dream. There he found a secret pond, hidden away from all the evils of the Realms, and swimming there were the Two Swans of Peace. They looked to him and their eyes pleaded for him to leave that accursed field and flee to refuge. But as they swam they were cut down and slain, and the pond became a din of shadows, and the mirth and innocence in the air receded and was replaced with the stench of death.

It was there in his meditation that Alean Syr saw his true death before it even took place. He looked to his friend at his side and he wept for all that was good that had passed into shadow. But his duty and honor was with his friends, which he would not abandon. And his last thoughts would be of the Two Swans of Peace and his people, who were no more.

Of the heroes that stormed the Towers of Twilight long ago when the God of Darkness, Aviar, threatened the existence of Corthan with the power of the Dark Star, were the two unlikely lovers. They stood there on the field that was on the brink of war and they stood there hand in hand. Their names are written in the confines of history and are noted with great joy in the Book of Saera. They had come from different races that were once the bitterest of enemies.

Their names were Kumul Seafire and Nesanuu Kriznash. Once many ages past, their peoples were brothers and shared the land of Vinsnarpia in peace. But, those days ended in flame and death during the Schism of Palila, which led to long conflict known as the Sea Side Wars. And there was war between the cities of Merlaa and Ilith, and the Dolpleanan and Squidaandan fought many bloody battles until the Squidaandan were forced from their own city and sought refuge.

There in the high precipices of the Mountains of Sea Foam they found caves that led down to darkness. The remaining peoples of the Squidaandan followed those dark paths and unknowingly came down into the Underworld and became scattered and lost. Those that survived came together and built cities underneath the earth, and there they forgot the sounds of the sea and the color of green and the smell of the air above. But, they forgot not the reason that they lost their home and their hatred bred and grew as dark as the caves in which they lived, and they became a twisted and evil race.

But the impossible came to be, and a Dolpleanan warrior fell in love with a Squidaandan maiden, and she with him. There in the dark halls of Gorthar a bright light was forged. Through many trials their love grew stronger until they finally released their ancient hate and gave into the feelings in their hearts. Through that love, victory made its way at the Battle of the Tower of Sunset when the minions of Aviar were destroyed.

Anchoring the line of heroes were two of the fiercest of warriors. They were Alorkun Bailera and Molwyn Stronghammer. Alorkun Bailera roared his defiance against the summoning evil, for he is a Ranzer Berserker from the Grasslands of Sanistair. Though he stands on two legs, he has the appearance of a tiger, and his fur is blue and striped in gray.

He wears a helm that is violet and from its top there rises a circular blade. His armor is thick and is the color of the sea and from the top of the breastplate there are teeth that descend and from the steel about the belly there are teeth that ascend so that appears that his midsection is a large gaping jaw prepared to swallow his enemies. Alorkun carries with him a great sword that almost reaches his height, and the blade is thick and broad and about it dances a burning green flame that burns and poisons his foes.

As Alorkun stood on the edge of his last battle, he cried aloud in a mighty roar. And he was alone, for his kind had left the world many years before, and those that were his friends had long since vanished. He wished to only be remembered for his deeds of that day, so that afterwards when the Realms of Confusion rebounded from the conflict of the Gods his kind would be remembered. There in remembrance, tales would speak of the deeds of his people and through that their presence would never truly fade.

At the last of the line stood the Ice Giant, Molwyn Stronghammer. He was tall and strong, and carried with him his great double bladed axe called Grind. He is from the ancient line of Narok and came to Anwyn to forge his tale during the time of the Dark Star. He wears heavy plates of bronze armor and no helm crests his head.

As he stood on the edge of doom, he laughed a deep booming laugh. There in the time before the collision of arms he said prayers and boasts alike. For he was not afraid of the Doom foretold, and he accepted the role fate had put in his path. So he took a stone from a pouch and with it he sharpened the blades of his axe so that no foes' armor would be too strong to resist the blows of Grind.

The others that stood with the forces of Tevindal, their tales do not delve as deep, but they too were an important part of the role of fate and of doom. And the other Gods and their servants began to take their places behind the line of the Heroes of the Realms. With their mighty stature they added to the strength of Tevindal's fighting force, and they would do great deeds before the turning of the Ball of Light spun out of control.

Behind the line of the Heroes of the Realms were the Gods and their assembled forces. Foremost and most fierce of the remaining host was Mabaslu and his host of Muladeen. Mabaslu's pearl trident, Galdring, shimmered a brilliant white, his Three Pendants of Power shone like starlight, and the scales of the Muladeen glittered like ice. The Muladeen roared and prepared to throw their javelins into the ranks of the enemy.

There behind the God of the Waters stood Tormar, God of Wind, and the mighty Sky Giants. The Sky Giants stood tall and powerful with wreaths of cloud adorning their heads like halos. Wind was ever about them and fluttering behind them were capes of purple, and in their hands crackled lightning, which they threw at their enemies. And they were terrible in their wrath, turning from majestic beauty to the fury of a tornado ready to scatter those that stood against them.

Behind the towering Sky Giants was Klemyni, God of Earth. His golden fur was stained by golden tears, for he wept for all that would soon take place. Arrayed around him were elks of white, and in the coming darkness they raised their voices in a call of sadness, which was swallowed by the storm raging about them.

Behind the tender forces of Klemyni stood the main fighting force of Tevindal. There the ancient Falina stood in many lines and formations, donned in armors of all colors. They glittered like a rainbow that comes to signal the end of the storm. And before them, leading them to their second doom, was Forlen, God of Light.

There he shone like a beacon of hope and fierce wrath upon the Fields of Rantarok. Then a golden ray of light shot up from his hand, and there for a moment the forces of Tevindal were bathed in a protective glow. Then the army marched forward from the walls of Fernoth.

Marching away they left a guard to stand before the gate and defend it, if all should crumble and fade on the field of battle. There before the red ruby walls of Fernoth were the centaurs. Their king, Vracht Riinok, led them. He drew a magic sword called Cyrsaline, and it dripped dew and moved like river water.

Of the other Gods and Goddesses in the service of Tevindal they stood not on the field of battle, but aided in the cosmic conflict through other means. Standing on the ramparts of Fernoth stood Vigilla, the Goddess of Protection, with her arms stretched wide. There she stood, and through her power she made sure the walls of Fernoth were strengthened. With her stood her faithful servant, the Keeper of the Gloom. He cast a mist about her so that the enemy could not perceive her, and so that no dart may find and strike her.

Also upon the walls, covered by the encircling mists of the Keeper of the Gloom, sat Saera, Goddess of Wisdom. From the heights she looked out upon the Field of Rantarok and scribed all that she beheld. And she wrote all that happened quicker than a sword stroke. Her mind and eyes see the deepest thoughts; though she shares not her wisdom to others, save in only elegantly phrased riddles. Saera knew that this would be the final chapter in her book of history.

Last of the servants of Tevindal were Kord and Calic, the God and Goddess of Love. They went as far from the battle as they could and came to the uppermost chamber of the Golden Spire. There they held each other in their embracing love and prayed. Through their prayer they bestowed courage and love to the warriors of Tevindal. And as they kissed each other for the last time they heard the most horrific of all sounds, the second sounding from the Trumpet of Doom.

Of the Assembly of Battle: The Forces of Devindal

Standing across the Field of Rantarok were the forces of Devindal. They too came into to formation for battle, but their ranks were full of discord, and they were of many minds and not a singular force. Instead, it seemed that many armies joined under one force, and they followed their own drum into the swirling chaos of war. But, Myr grew angry and he roared for his soldiers to come forward and they did so, stubbornly.

And so it was, with the prophecy of crumbling doom foretold ages past, the enemy of Tevindal came into line to sweep those that they hate from the memory of the Realms. They came forth in this order, if order it can be called. At the edge of the line of battle stood the anchor of darkness, Foramor Bala. There behind him were Demon Gorgs. Behind them orcs, and them Aviar and his Drakun, and there looming under the shadow of darkness, which veiled itself like a shield to he who comes at the end of the first ranks of the enemy's line was Gorthar and his Seven Beasts grown in his own hell.

The sounds rising from that horde were like the squealing of those tortured and in pain. The orcs raised their weapons, which were black and cruelly shaped. Aviar spun webs of seething darkness about his agents, and Gorthar wielded his mighty hammer, Groth.

At the far side of the field, stood another formation of villainy. This force was led by dark wizardry. So stood Scourge, captain under the dreaded Prince of Darkness, Myr, who was Coirsc during the first turning of the Ball of Light. Scourge forsook his visage of pleasantry, and he stood as a dark glimmer of horror, radiating his foulness into the storm about the cosmic fields.

Lightning flickered above and thunder rang out in honor to the slithering wizard of darkness. But, he stood tremblingly, though no eyes saw it, save only those of Garmornosh the Wolf Wight. Behind him were his slaves composed of many peoples, tortured and corrupted throughout long years in the dungeons of the Moon Blood Tower and Mashutol before his ascendance in power. Though their hearts were black and wished for blood, they welcomed this battle, knowing it would be the means to end their long toiling suffrage.

Arrayed for battle behind Scourge and his minions were the Goloths. Horrid beasts of decrepit decay and rot, the Goloths move without any true thought. They wish to kill and to eat the flesh of those they capture. Behind them a battalion of orcs ranked in lines complementing them.

There, at the rear of the formation, were agents of evil, that were small in numbers, but held much strength and power in the presence of the cosmic field. There stood the Witches of Alordian, and with them were the Eleven Nameless, the remaining Dread Lords that were once Falina of great renown and power. The formation was full of wizardry and witchcraft, and slaves of multitudes. But these outside formations, though full of powerful beings of darkness, were nothing compared to the gathered strength that came together in the center formation.

Gathered there in the front line were Gorgaia, the Spider King, and his mate, Murgla, the demoness of spiders. And with them were gathered all the spiders and Gragaurs, and they were of many shapes and sizes and altogether hideous. Behind them came the trolls, tall and broad and mighty. They were great citadels of strength. They carried with them clubs and maces and great axes to hew apart those that stood against them. But, as mighty as the trolls were, they held nothing in the means of power to those that came after them.

Wreathed in flame and darkness, was Faluvad, and his wings beat forth great torrents of foul wind that was unbearable to almost any opponent. With him were his servants of enchanted darkness, and they were the Bull Witches of old, crafted in some deep crevice of fire long ago. They carried great spears and whips of many throngs. Their visage was terrible and they bellowed forth cries that echoed like deep horns of horror in the chasms of the lifeless void.

Gathered behind them, like a dark storm of shadow, were the ravenous Wargon. The wolves and werewolves howled, prepared to feast on the flesh of the champions of Tevindal. There with them were two wolves of the greatest renown. Thus stood Uila Ilio, the Lightning Wolf, whose fur crackles with the sizzling bolts of energy produced in the clouds of storm. And his eyes are jewels of a yellow hue that stun and paralyze his foes in fear. But there also was the Wolf Wight, Garmornosh, and his beaming darkness shifted like the ash of black smoke.

Added to the strength of the wolves and the hordes of despicable evil were four others of the darkest design. They came last in the battalions of Devindal, and they were strong and full of malice. They let their weapons be drawn and they were dark and terrible. Thus stood the last of enemies on the shores of the Forever Night Sea, on the edge of the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok, and they are Dranaur, Qulelil and her Soulless Knight, and Myr, the Prince of Darkness.

Of Rantarok, The Last Battle of the Gods:

And then the Trumpet of Doom sounded its second note. The blowing of the horn was more terrible than its first sounding, and its echoing sting coursed through the confines of eternity, etching its mark on the mortality of time itself. Then there was silence, and it was as piercing as the blaring of the Trumpet of Doom. But, with the fading silence a new sound arose, it was a cry of war brought forth by both sides that had gathered on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok, and the time of waiting was at last over.

As the cries intensified so did the rumbling thunder of feet running to doom and war, and blades were unsheathed and glowed with misty darkness in the shadow of ruin. So at last did the Last Battle of the Gods begin, and it was with a sounding of a trumpet and the collision of a thunderclap from the forces that held the creative sway in the universe. There amidst the swirling chaos, blades descended and claws and fangs tore and bit. And in that initial moment of war, many lives were lost.

Monsters fell into the grip of the Void and Falina were vanquished back into the starless sky. But the mighty of both sides soon found each other and became locked in fierce combat. So started the battles of legend within the war of Rantarok.

And it came to pass that, as the armies of Tevindal and Devindal collided, Dranikk Ju'Daraan, who had come by his own design, met on the field of war Gorgaia, the Spider King. And they stood there, with crumbled rock beneath their feet and faced each other. The Spider King's many eyes were enveloped in darkness and malice and gleamed with hate. But Dranikk was not dismayed and he held his ground, though filled with fear, and he drew forth his blade, Falcryst, and faced his foe.

Dranikk moved swiftly, more swiftly than the Spider King, and his blade's sharp steel sang in a high hum as it descended through one of the front legs of Gorgaia. But, Gorgaia was not yet defeated and spun forth a web to trap the converted dark elf, but the dark elf danced away from the deadly prison and struck again, his blade singing a song of stinging fire, and took from the Spider King another of his front legs. And so they fought, and Dranikk took more limbs from Gorgaia, but Gorgaia was not without revenge.

It was on the death stroke by Falcryst that Gorgaia set his fangs deep into Dranikk's flesh and the dark elf became poisoned and slowed from his quickness. As he drew forth Falcryst from the dead body of the Spider King, he stumbled and came face to face with the vengeful Murgla. There, during the onslaught of the battle, she slew Dranikk and feasted upon his flesh. But, soon her meal was interrupted and her head was cloven asunder by the axe of Sarik Moonwater.

Then Sarik pulled the lifeless body of Dranikk Ju'Daraan forth from the clutches of the spider. And there amidst the battle that swarmed all around him, Sarik Moonwater took from his back his cloak and draped it over the man that was once his enemy in a faraway land long ago. Leaving the corpse of the Prince of Blackfallen. Sarik took forth his axe deeper into the clutches of madness.

Further along on the field of battle, the Blind Giant, Foramor Bala, met a foe that he knew to be greater than all those that he had slain in the centuries at his home in the Realm of Darkness. The creature smiled hideously at the coming of his opponent, wishing to tear forth the limbs and to feast on the head and gain a trophy of mighty power. But, Foramor Bala was to meet Narok, the ancient king of the Ice Giants, and companion of Druwren Starfallen.

Narok cursed his foe as he tore into him, and they clutched each other with mighty arms and their wrestling was like the colliding of worlds. There in the center of the field, Narok released his great anger and he picked up his opponent and heaved him. Thus did Foramor Bala crush many evil beings. But he was not dismayed, but spurned on by the champion before him, wishing even more to have victory.

But, Narok's time of Doom was not yet at hand, and the Ice Giant from the north grappled the Blind Giant. And there, underneath a sky of storm and foreboding evil, Narok ripped the arms from the Blind Giant's body. Seeing the Blind Giant ripped and bloodied, Narok grew ever the angrier, and with his hands he crushed Foramor Bala's head and sent him to the Void beyond the Walls of the Living.

As the throng coursed onward in its portrait of a bloody masterpiece, the Witches of Alordian and their remaining Dread Lords, the Eleven Nameless, met upon the field of battle their ancient nemeses and did battle with them. In the darkness a light shone brightly, for the sword of Star Evenwind was unleashed and she led many ancient powers into the conflict with the witches and their minions. And lo! There came Morloklan, a wizard of ancient power, and with him was Ogrey Runebane holding his Lunar Staff high above his head, and there too was Layulana Whitetree whose arrows sang into the ranks of orcs that charged a battalion of Falina.

But as the Heroes of the Shores of Twilight met once again those adversaries from the Ridge Cliffs of the Realm of the Echoing Thrall, they met too the Dread Lords that were once powerful warriors of the Falina race. And the might of the combined strength of the Witches and the Dread Lords were too much for Star and her companions, and they were thrown back and dismay filled their hearts. But their plight was soon aided, for out of the battle with the orcs and other demons of Devindal came great heroes and weapons whose names strike fear into those who oppose them.

Leading this band was the resurrected King of the Falina, Dantar the Damned, and in his hand sweeping to and fro was his sword, Goleritt, and it carved a path through foul forces until he crossed swords with the Captain of the Nameless. And at his side were the Three Generals and Lords of Earmar, Sorka, Nonal, and Tibus. They bellowed cries of power and vengeance upon their fallen folk. And the others that picked up their cry for battle were Siten, Dantar's friend of old, and there too were Alean Syr, Zet Lightwater, Aoifa Cerid, Gungnir Heimdrel, Kumul Seafire and his love Nesanuu Kriznash. And their weapons clashed with those made by Falina smiths during the Dunlyne.

It was here that Gungnir's spear, Avatari, was splintered and he was slain. Siten fell too before the first of the Dread Lords were killed. Soon Aoifa Cerid was succumbed by force, but with her passing the rest of the band grew fierce. With Goleritt, Dantar slew two of the Nameless cursing them and Kumul pierced the heart of another with his seasword before suffering grievous injury. But alas! Nesanuu was slain by a sharp slash of a Falina blade across her chest and in his fury Kumul too perished but not before he embedded his shark-toothed sword into the flesh of the Dread Lord, who had taken the life of his wife.

So the heroes fought on, but the battle between the Witches and Star and her followers was now joined, and witchcraft and wizardry sent spells of ice and flame through the confines of the battle. With her shield, L'terin, Star reflected a deadly spell, and its burst of green death consumed its caster and Sashane, Witch of Alordian, was destroyed. But with Star's attention stayed, Letori, the foul witch, overcame the wizard, Morloklan, and he fell lifeless on the Field of Rantarok.

But, the loss of Sashane did not weaken the witches, for they came together and fought with reckless abandon, and in their fury they did serve great wounds to Layulana Whitetree, and she was forced to flee the conflict to distances too great for her arrows.

So did Ogrey Runebane and Star Evenwind stand together against the Witches, and Star's sword, Sapphire, shown like blue flame as she swept it forth and defended her against the spells of doom. Ogrey's gauntlet became red from burning flame, and he cast spells of his own that shot forth with force and destruction. And Gorga and Letori came together and gathered on their wickedness in the service of Devindal, and they cast a spell of darkness and it sped towards Star to vanquish her light from the universe.

But Ogrey foresaw their treachery and he cast his staff forth, and sailing in the air bright light erupted from its core and there the Lunar Staff focused all its powers as it struck the spell of the witches and it was dissipated. The witches were weakened by their effort, and being filled with wrath Star came forward with Sapphire and she slew Gorga, and held her severed head high in victory. Ogrey too came forward and he fought Letori fiercely, and many spells were cast and deflected, until at last Letori grew tired and Ogrey exhausted his spells. Ogrey stood close and reached forth with his gauntlet of power and grasped the throat of Letori and took from her life as his eyes bore into hers.

Then the Witches of Alordian were no more, and Star and Ogrey turned to give aid to those that fought the Dread Lords, but there were not any of either, save the mightiest of the Dread Lords, who now fought alone Dantar the Damned. But many foes were about and neither Star nor Ogrey had the strength to sweep them away as the duel raged. So they watched as chaos and madness were swirling about, like some cosmic dance that was foretold from the very beginning.

Then it was that Dantar had the upper hand and, with Goleritt, he cut down his opponent. And as the Lord of Dread was upon his knees ready to die, Dantar raised Goleritt to cut the head from the body. But as the blade descended, the Dread Lord raised his own Falina sword. And with the strike, both swords were shattered and the fragments of Goleritt rained into Dantar's flesh and he was slain, making him twice damned.

Star Evenwind, seeing the fallen King of the Falina, went to him, but Ogrey, seeing that his life had been spent upon the Fields of Rantarok, went in search of his injured friend, Layulana. Ogrey faced down many foes in his search for the fairy until he at last found her lying wounded upon the field of war. Then he came to her and healed much of her wounds with a spell of magic, and her wings fluttered once again, and they went together again to battle.

But alas! Layulana's arrows were too swift and too many. And many were the number of slaves she slew from the Moon Blood Tower. Soon she drew the attention of the master of the keep, and his presence was shadow and storm. So came Scourge, a wizard wrought by the hands of Gorthar. With a bolt from his staff, he extinguished the light of Layulana's life and came forward to meet Ogrey Runebane in battle.

Then Ogrey and Scourge faced each other, and both knew the other was mighty. And Ogrey was at a loss without his staff, but he shivered not in the forces of evil he faced, for his heart was heavy and full of anger for the loss of his friend. And Ogrey came forward with such a speed and fierceness that evil Scourge became afraid and fell back.

But, Scourge soon regained his ground and the two began to grapple with spells of power. Ogrey Runebane sent spell after spell at the Ambassador of Devindal, and those that Scourge performed were caught by Ogrey's gauntlet and flung back. Many combatants of both sides were destroyed by the duel of wizards. But at last Ogrey grew weary, and as his strength faltered Scourge cast a spell of destruction and as Ogrey tried to catch it the spell proved too powerful, and the gauntlet of Ogrey was destroyed.

With his victory Scourge found himself weakened as he cast the killing blow to the bane of Letori. Knowing that he would not survive against much more of the powerful of Tevindal, Scourge fled. And as he ran, he looked about him and saw the ruin that was imminent. Seeing this, plans of rule slipped into his mind, and out loud he laughed as he cast himself away from Rantarok into the turbulent waves of the Forever Night Sea.

As Scourge swam to distant shores, the war that raged upon the battle plain of Rantarok continued. Klemyni, Lord of the Earth, ruler of the soil and the trees that adorn it, came forth with his White Elks, who follow him and weep in sadness at the sight of the end of that which is beautiful. And he fought, though his power is not in the strength of arms, but the will of the spirit. But where he stood did not spring grass, nor did mountains crowned with cloud arise. No, where he stood fell blood and lifeless bodies, and though his tears were many they did not wash the stained ground.

Klemyni led his followers deep into the battle and their hooves echoed in the deep, a rumbling underlining the ringing of clashing steel. And they clashed with the Demon Gorgs and Gragaurs, and the dead were heaped high on both sides. Klemyni watched as his folk fell into shadow, and he was dismayed, and his heart was filled with pity. And in his pain he looked for death.

There in the chaos he found it, for in the darkness and shadows of war he found a cloud that hung ever darker than those about him. It was then that Klemyni left his folk, and they paused from their fight and watched their Lord go, knowing not where he was headed. But soon his thoughts were perceived as Klemyni met a foe beyond his power. And rising on his back hooves, Klemyni kicked at his foe, and the mighty opponent fell back, expecting not such fury from the likes of the tender God of Earth.

Klemyni's hooves struck his foe, which was Myr, Prince of Devindal, and Myr was thrown back. But he soon arose, and those about them stopped. There was then a ring around the warriors as they watched the two Gods fight to what would be at least one of their ends. Then Myr picked up his fallen sword, Blood Storm. He stood, and he was tall and powerful, and wreathed in shadow and flame.

Then there was a flash of blinding flame, and Blood Storm struck with the force of a bolt from the heavens, and Klemyni ceased. With the fall of their Lord, the White Elks fell to madness, and many succumbed to sorrow, and their life's flame became extinguished without wound or injury from the enemy. But others did not go so easily. Those White Elks who did not go quietly went into a rage of rampant death. They slew many times their number before they were overcome. But the battle rage receded and the numbers of their foes were too great and alas, in time all were slain.

Thus did Rantarok continue, with smoke and flame and death smothering the God's allies like a sea of rock. And there under a sky blanketed in ash the Sky Giants met trolls, and they slew each other, though the Sky Giants gathered the upper hand. And the Muladeen came forward, letting loose their javelins of glittering ice and they fell amidst the Bull Witches, the companions of Faluvad. But, the Bull Witches proved to be far fiercer than their numbers showed, and many Muladeen fell, sundered into the Void.

But aid came swiftly, and the Sky Giants came with their powers of wind and thunder. Their storm shook the ground, and their weapons, laced with lightning, splintered the earth. Great pits were made by their strength, and many Bull Witches were slain or fell to their doom. But Faluvad, seeing his most loyal servants being swept away by the force of the Muladeen and Sky Giants, swooped forth and rained fire down from his maw of swords. Through his wrath, the God of Destruction slew many.

From a distance, Tormar, God of Wind, observed the decimation of his mighty host, and he wept. He came forth as a cyclone in his anger and many warriors of both sides were thrown from his path. Soon Tormar's storm struck Faluvad, and the dragon was thrown from the sky, his wings torn and ripped. There the God of Wind faced the Red Wyrm of Devindal, and though their battle was fierce, and grievous wounds did Tormar inflict upon Faluvad, Tormar was at last slain.

But the battle between Tormar and Faluvad was not unwatched. For Mabaslu had seen the conflict from a distance and wished to be rid his mortal enemy once and for all. Then did Mabaslu gather those left of the Muladeen, and he came forth with them wielding Galdring, his white trident, before him. Upon Mabaslu's neck the Three Pendants glittered and shown like stars, intensifying the God's strength.

Thus did the wounded Faluvad see them coming. And the Muladeen sent their javelins forth with fury, with many finding their mark and others being destroyed by the flames of Faluvad. With his flames did Faluvad slay the remaining of the Muladeen, but he did not stop Mabaslu, who, with the aided strength of the Pendants slammed Galdring deep into his side.

Then the white trident cracked and broke and hissed from the acid of Faluvad's blood. And Mabaslu cried out in victory. But Mabaslu's enemy was not yet dead. In his last act of life, Faluvad rolled over onto his side, and Mabaslu, seeing this treachery, sped forth away. But he was not quick enough and his arm was smashed beneath the Wyrm and lost.

Then Dranaur, the undead Demon of Fire, saw this easy prey and came forth to slay Mabaslu, as he lay exposed and defenseless under the side of the dragon. Then Dranaur grew in confidence, and with the killing of a great Lord of Tevindal, he rallied the forces of Devindal and took them to charge the ruby walls of Fernoth. Then Devindal's host mowed down many of the defenders of the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok, and the strength of Tevindal was split. And Fernoth's heroes were pushed away to the east and west. They fought bravely, but could not regain their lines of battle.

Of the Fall of Fernoth:

Then did only a small host stand before the invaders and the Holy City of Fernoth, built by Breina Goldenflower in the First Cycle of Light. They were the centaurs, from a forest cursed during a time unknown and where the race of proud people stood silently as stone. But, Dranaur halted his approach, and the roar of those that he led was quieted as the King of the Centaurs came forth to challenge Dranaur in single combat.

Then did Dranaur smile, and dark flames rippled about him and his eyes were of one that has never known goodness. But, the King of the Centaurs came forward and he called out in a fell voice for Dranaur to halt, and Dranaur did. And the King declared himself Vracht Riinok, and he drew from his sheath his magic sword, Cyrsaline, and it moved like flowing water and droplets of mist drifted from it.

Dranaur came forward with his whip of fire about him, and Vracht rose up on his back hooves and held his sword high above and charged. Blade and whip met and there was stunned silence across the battle plain. And the whip of fire hissed with each meeting of the blade that was created from magical waters long ago. The warriors fenced back and forth, moving in a dance of perfect resistance, and neither found the upper hand.

But Cyrsaline was crafted from ancient waters, and it held the wet dew of mist from the Mountains of Kai, a lush world of water destroyed during the War of the Gods. And it extinguished the flames of Dranaur's whip. Then Dranaur was dismayed and he cast away his whip and drew his own dark sword, and it was black and terrible and hummed with a song of dread.

And the songs from the two swords were like the crashing of cymbals. The ears of those that heard it bled, and many cast down their weapons and fell to their knees. But the power of Cyrsaline eclipsed that of the blade of Dranaur, and in a shriek the evil blade forgot its song and the steel shattered, sending it's riven fragments into Dranaur, who roared in pain and fury.

But he was not yet slain. Dranaur rose in his wrath and chanted words of evil to conjure a mighty spell. But, Vracht Riinok was the mightier, and he came forth, rumbling on his hooves and swept the head off of Dranaur. In victory, the King of the Centaurs turned to those that were left to guard the gate of Fernoth and rallied them. And the centaurs, once victims to an ancient evil, drew their swords, and the flash of steel was like silver lightning. They came forth shaking down thunder from the sky and awoke the glories of their past.

So, the tide turned and for a while the servants of Devindal were thrown back from the gate and walls of Fernoth. The Falina in the east and the Heroes of the Tower of the Dead in the west met each other in the center of the field with great heaps of their slain enemies piled before them. Though the forces of Devindal were still greater than those of Tevindal, they were pushed back, and fear fell among their ranks. But all was not yet lost for them, for a new devilry was yet to be exposed to those that walk under the Light.

It was then that Gorthar, the Dark Smith, came forth with his hammer Groth, and behind him came his foulest creations, the Seven Beasts. The heroes of Tevindal were hewn mercilessly and were swept away like twigs in a flooded river. Then the Ice Giants Belun, Molwyn, Narok, and Alorkun Bailera, the Ranzer Berserker, came forth to stop Gorthar. And they fought fearlessly and inflicted injury upon the Dark Smith, but in the end Groth smashed them all.

All the remaining might of Devindal mustered behind the destructive force of Gorthar and his Seven Beasts and they moved forward again to the walls of Fernoth. And Star Evenwind, seeing the imminent destruction of Tevindal's forces, gathered those heroes that remained and they were Sarik Moonwater, Jase Zalendar, Dagen Vrance, Zain Lamtred, Ryler Hanzar, Firiona Rainbolt, Voldar Firesword and a host of Falina warriors. She led them forth to slow the advance of the Seven Beasts. And Gorthar too was stayed, for the greatest warriors of Tevindal confronted him. And Achaines and Druwren Starfallen forsook their slaughter and came forth with Glacier and Heaven's Star drawn together.

The naked blades shone brightly with Tevindal's fury, illuminating the warlords with a halo of bathing light against the ash and shadow that ruled the field. The ground grew cold due to Glacier's touch, and now ice paved the road to Gorthar. Then Gorthar perceived their coming and turned to meet them. The Dark Smith trembled out of both fear and blood lust at their coming, and he raised Groth up to smite them down.

But, Achaines and Druwren did not let Gorthar strike first, and they came upon him as sword flashes rippled through the air like sizzling meteors. The light was bright from the gleaming blue of Heaven's Star and the frost of Glacier bit deep, but Gorthar laughed at their attempts. Gorthar swung his hammer and it smashed the ground, and great pits opened up and the earth swallowed many from either side.

Then Groth met Heaven's Star and a fire erupted between them. As Achaines and Gorthar stared upon each other, there was a contest of wills. At last Gorthar espied Druwren Starfallen approaching with his fell icesword and broke away to meet the king that was without a throne. And Groth crashed down like a crumbling tower, and with Glacier, Druwren struck Gorthar's right hand and it turned to ice and shattered.

In his pain Gorthar bellowed, and the pits that had been rent opened by Groth widened, and more perished into the chasms of death and gloom. Gorthar was struck again, this time by the bright flame of Heaven's Star, and a fire seared across the Dark Smith's chest and his insides were burned and charred. Gorthar cried one more time from the stinging cold of Glacier, and his feet were swept from underneath him. In his horror he tumbled backward and was swallowed by an open pit and taken to the Void.

Thus ended Gorthar, and with him his hammer that had shaped many twisted and cruel creatures. But even with his death the tide of Devindal was not turned, for his Seven Beasts were slowed but not slain, and they wreaked hell upon the field of war. And Achaines and Druwren, seeing the destruction that they sowed, could not go to hinder their advance. For there were still many foes about and they crawled on to the gate of Fernoth, and defenders of Tevindal were becoming few.

The remaining might of the enemy mustered, and Qulelil, the Goddess of Undoing, and her servant, the Soulless Knight, led the onslaught against the walls of Fernoth. The Soulless Knight moved silently, slaying those who entered his path, but the sword Cyrsaline then halted him. And there was a mighty duel between the King of the Centaurs and the Soulless Knight, but in the end Vracht Riinok was slain and his sword leaked out its magic into the earth and was no more.

Further about the Field of Rantarok many more great battles raged. In the center of the field met the Gods of Light and Darkness. Their flames of light and threads of seeping bleakness consumed each other, and they both left the Realms and found themselves locked in the Void until the end of all times.

Four of the Seven Beasts fell into ruin. Their bodies left smoking upon the ground, rotting from their foul foundations. But the price of their destruction came at a high price, for Star Evenwind and her band of heroes were slain, their bodies lay twisted and broken on the field. Jase Zalendar had been devoured, and Zain Lamtred had been torn apart. Only Star's visage remained intact, for she had been slain by a poison arrow let loose by an orc captain.

But at the walls of Fernoth the end game was approaching, and all that were left of the forces of Tevindal now had their backs against the ruby walls. Now Myr showed himself to the remaining powers of Tevindal, and behind him were gathered the Wargon and their masters and all the orcs that remained left to slaughter. And the three beasts of Gorthar that remained hurled themselves against the walls in attempt to crack them, but the walls held for the work of Breina was strong, and Vigilla, the Goddess of Protection added her strength to that of the Goldenflower's.

As the final strength of Fernoth's protectors failed, Myr came forward. His black cape rippled behind him and he held Blood Storm high aloft. But, Myr did not slay his ancient enemies that were about and passed by many Falina engaged in battle. But he found the one he sought, and leaving his post at the Gate of Fernoth came Druwren Starfallen to meet him. No words were spoken, for the hatred between the two ran too deep. There before the gate of the fortress that had stood since the beginning of the Dunlyne, Glacier and Blood Storm met.

Chips of ice and dried blood flickered up into the air at each connected stroke. And the ringing of their steel eclipsed all other sounds. The din of horror and carnage was dimmed and shadow fell about all, save the two great warriors. Myr sneered in his hatred and Druwren's eyes burned with fury. With each sword stroke of Glacier, Druwren called the name Ilayan, his dead wife, his fallen star, that died at the hands of Myr's minions.

About the two warriors the war continued. The Wargon descended upon the gate, and there they met the fury of Heaven's Star. The wolves came by the hundreds, and Achaines danced the forms of death, piling great heaps of their bodies before him. His wife, Sarah Valaka, stood by his side, and arrow after arrow she released into the ranks of Wargon, and many fell pierced and sundered themselves to the confines of the Void.

But the ranks of the Wargon swelled, for the orcs and spiders that remained joined them. And Uila Ilio, the Lightning Wolf, spied Valaka distracted, and the wolf leaped forth and slew her. As Uila Ilio looked upon its prize and prepared to consume the wife of the War God, Marli the faithful hound, and loyal friend of Druwren Starfallen, sprang forward and wrestled the wolf. Marli's black fur stood on end, and with his mighty jaws he tore out Uila Ilio's throat and stood over its carcass and howled for the loss of Sarah Valaka.

But a greater loss for Marli would soon echo his howl. Before the Gate of Fernoth, where no foe had ever entered, Myr and Druwren Starfallen slew each other. Marli's howl for his master and friend pierced the ears of those on the battle plain. And in his sorrow and pain, Marli forsook the hold on his own life and offered it up willingly to death, so he may join his master again.

Thus ended Druwren Starfallen, the Silverstar that once was. And his soul faded and was caught with the wind and to what place it fled to no one knows. But the wind echoed the howl of Marli, and there floating over the parapets of Fernoth was the spirit of Ilayan. There the three spirits mingled and vanished, and traversed the seas of darkness that surrounded the whole of creation, and they rode the waves ceaselessly and escaped the clutches of the Void.

But back on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok there was no peace, for war continued its cruel rule. Achaines grew maddened at the fall of his wife, but his arm was tiring. And the hordes before him continued to swell, though Heaven's Star slew with each stroke. Many powerful enemies escaped his notice and Qulelil came forward escorted by her Soulless Knight.

The Queen of Undoing espied the strength of the weakening walls of Fernoth, and she sent her servant to clear away the net that kept the Goddess of Protection safe from harm. Though dart and arrow fell thick into the high towers of the ruby walls of the Isle of the Golden Tree, none struck Vigilla, for the Keeper of the Gloom stood by her side. With his strength he cast a mist upon his mistress and she was veiled from the falling death of the enemy and her power was unhindered.

Then the Soulless Knight began to climb the wall of Fernoth. He came forth unseen, and drawing his sword of shadow he slew the Keeper of the Gloom with a single stroke, and with his death his spell dissipated and Vigilla was revealed. Then the foes of Fernoth saw Vigilla upon the high parapets of the city and they raised their bows and released them. Arrows then rained down and the Goddess of Protection deflected much of the attack, but there were too many.

Her heart was pierced and from her wound her blood flowed. And flowing, her blood came down the ruby walls of the city, and the Soulless Knight, who was descending from his deadly mission, lost his grip and fell. Falling, he landed amidst those left of the centaurs, and seeing the Soulless Knight they hefted their swords and slew him. His head was severed from his body and thrown to the piles of the dead, and his limbs too were hewn and the body was left to rot.

But on the Cosmic Fields of Rantarok there is not the time for decay. Seeing her servant's victory, Qulelil came forth. With her power upon her lips, she chanted. As her voice grew so did the wrath of her power. The full force of her will struck the weakened walls of the glorious city. Then there was a great crack and fissures ran through the walls and towers of Fernoth and stone and mortar came down and in sweeping chaos the city became lost into ruin.

There in their chamber in the Golden Spire, the lovers Calic and Kord watched their own demise. As the tower toppled over they came to each other and held one another once more. Their pain was more terrible than any wound of war and their cry of loss echoed out into eternity. Like a great wave it was, striking forward. On the field, Qulelil stood weakened from her display of force, and as the two lovers were torn apart with the falling pinnacle of hope for those that stand under Tevindal's banner, Qulelil too met her fate. And their wave of anguish washed over her and she was utterly destroyed.

On the last crumbling wall of Fernoth sat Saera, the Goddess of Wisdom. As she watched the battle she scribed all its deeds in her book. But, alas her time was too at an end. There as she penned the fall of Fernoth her wall fell and falling she thought not of her life but of the words that rested in her histories. And thinking not of herself, she threw her book and it was cast into the currents of the Forever Night Sea. There it drifted away lost in the endless darkness. It sunk into places unknown and uncharted, and made its home in a chamber built by the hands of fate so that one may come and learn its knowledge when the end of all times is at hand. Then Saera was lost and her knowledge hidden and she made her way to the holdings of the Void.

Standing in defiance to the hoard and tide of darkness that had overcome the Holy City stood Achaines at the ruined and smoldering gate. Heaven's Star flashed in blue flame in its anger, but the enemy was many about the War God, and none stood by his side. Achaines slew many of those about him, but in his despair he noticed not the Wight that came forth like a wisp of dark cloud. Then as Achaines held Heaven's Star aloft above his enemies, Garmornosh, King of Werewolves, sprang forward, and with his mighty jaws he bit off Achaines' sword hand, taking Heaven's Star with it.

Then Achaines stood defenseless, and the evil tide moved in. His armor was torn from his body and cruel steel was put to his naked flesh. Then Mighty Achaines fell, his foul foes at all sides. But Garmornosh, in his triumph, felt the true fire of Heaven's Star in his belly. The blade let loose the heat of a star and Garmornosh in his pain, fled from Rantarok, crushing many in his path. The Wight threw himself into the raging currents of the Forever Night Sea and was swept away and washed to a realm where he was imprisoned. The burning of the sword in his belly did not subside, nor could Garmornosh find rest or death, but lived out long centuries in searing pain.

Of the Imprisonments of Tevindal and Devindal:

And then the hosts of good and evil were diminished. Those Falina that remained were few in number and were all that stood left against the triumph of darkness. With their backs against the crumbled walls of their ancient city, they fought and died. The ranks of Devindal came forward, line after line. Leaderless, they fought on behind the might of the three remaining Beasts of Gorthar.

For the Gods of Good and Evil were no more, and their flames and shadows were vanquished from the universe. The Falina fought now with no hope, save only wishing to let not the forces of darkness plunder the ruin of their city. More and more of their numbers fell, and they did not return to their glory in the black sky as shining beacons of hope to the Realms. Their once bright swords were dimmed and their armor dented. No more was their beauty, and eternal darkness was creeping closer.

Then at the moment of their complete defeat, as the army of Devindal prepared to enter through the twisted and broken gate of Fernoth, something untold in the prophecies happened. There above the ruin of the city, high in the lifting thickness of smoke burst a bright golden light. And below the blinding light appeared a monolith, like some impassable mountain in splendid glory that holds doom for any that wish to defile it.

Then there was a flash of light, and the Beasts of Gorthar were swept away, and the multitudes of orcs and foul minions of the enemy were utterly destroyed. Then there was light in the deep shadow of darkness, for Tevindal, the Lord of Light, had revealed Himself. Below, the remaining Falina dropped their weapons and bowed in reverence amidst the rank odors of chaos and death.

Tevindal gathered them up and placed them in the shattered remnant of their home, for a great shadow was rapidly approaching. The shadow came, erasing the pure light that flooded the battle plain and the dark seas of space beyond. The shadow landed, splintering the earth and rising up like a wraith of unspeakable power, and Devindal and Tevindal faced each other.

Then there was war. War like none had ever seen. It was a war that was beyond the horror of the battle that had taken place at Rantarok. It was a war that encumbered the Realms' fate on a single plateau on the remote island in the sea of swirling darkness.

There the Creator and Destroyer fought. Their powers consumed each other, off shooting each other, blending in their total opposites. Blasts of pure light struck Devindal, causing the Shadow Wraith to roar in fury, which was like the explosions of worlds.

They wrestled with forces unimaginable, and their rolling broke the foundations of the Realms of Confusion, and many worlds were left shattered and broken. Tides of darkness swept up and covered the lands. Waves of bright light washed up onto distant shores and new worlds were born. So it was, a dance of creation and destruction, the Lords of the Ball of Light fighting for dominion of all that is.

It was then that Tevindal saw the futility in the battle, and he searched his mind for an answer to the rampant destruction. And there in the heat of combat with his ancient enemy he found it, and knowing it would be the only path he sought it. Tevindal took from himself a glowing orb and cast it forth into the Wells of Time at the edge of the universe. There with his sacrifice he learned what would be if he followed the path laid before him.

Within his mind all the echoes of possible paths unfolded, and time itself was revealed to him. He saw the fate of the worlds and the answer to the ancient riddle of curing the sickened Ball of Light. Then he redoubled his efforts, knowing that the suffering he would face would be little on the path of salvation.

Then with all his strength he banished Devindal. Devindal's form was shattered and broken, and on the outside edge of the Forever Night Sea, the Lord of Darkness was imprisoned inside a citadel on top of a mountain covered with frost. Then Tevindal reached down and with his hand he took up the Falina that remained in the smoldering city of Fernoth. He placed them over Devindal's prison, and they returned to stars and served as wards to the gate of the Dark One's cell.

But through his efforts, Tevindal was also banished. His body became broken and from its scattered ash raised forth a comet that shot into the Forever Night Sea. The comet burned bright, and the Field of Rantarok below was destroyed by the sundering power of the Lords of the Ball of Light. Then the Trumpet of Doom sounded a third and last time, and its call ushered the end of the Torlyne and signaled the beginning of the Forlyne, which is the Last Cycle of Light.

About the Author

Patrick lives in Indianapolis, Indiana with his wife, Sarah, and is a stay-at-home Dad to their daughter, Irene, and best friend, Buddy the dog, and Bunsy the rabbit. 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 alien 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.

If you enjoyed this book, you may enjoy others by the same author:

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

Elm
