

### Tevanon and Kensic

### Turlot

by Tyson Clarke

Copyright © 2015 Tyson Clarke

All rights reserved.

Distributed by Smashwords

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Cover Art by Andre Garcia

Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

Published in the United States of America

_Tevanon and Kensic: Turlot_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This one goes out to Bob, Janet, Joe and Victoria.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

About the Author

CHAPTER ONE

Upon the shores of the Laughley Sea, in the shadow of the jagged Northland Mountains and not so far south as the blistering Aronee Desert, there existed a land of lush forests and golden plains. This land was known as Lynsid, a once great nation that had suffered through more than a decade of demoralizing wars. War had ravaged the landscape, the economy, and the people so much so that migration was occurring in droves. The king did nothing. He was well past his prime and no longer possessed the vision or the vigor to lead a people to greatness. And so, the nation of Lynsid, a once mighty kingdom, flailed to exist.

In its prime, Lynsid had been a haven of glorious cities from the sea to the mountains, a nation that every other nation sought to imitate, but that was no longer. What remained was a cesspool of impoverished shantytowns and a breeding ground for criminals of every kind. The Lynsidian people had always been a proud lot, devoted to their place of origin and loyal to their king. But even the proudest people can lose faith, and after ten years of witnessing the slow demise of their once great nation, the people of Lynsid could no longer see a way back to the glorious days of the past. Thus, the mass migration began; entire villages were vacated, farms and ranches were left to rot away, and much of the army was lost to men unwilling to die for a wasted cause. After several years of a rapidly declining population, all that was left was the remains of a glorious time when Lynsid was a nation not to be reckoned with.

Still, there were those who refused to abandon their homeland. They were the true Lynsidians, loyal to the end, and never doubting their nation would once again rise to greatness. Mira was one of the loyalists. She was born in Lynsid, spent all of her life in Lynsid, and she married an honorable Lynsidian soldier. She believed it her destiny to die in Lynsid as her parents had, and her sister and her husband. Mira had lost near all of her family during the decade of war ravaged Lynsid and more than once she herself was nearly killed at the hands of an invading army. Her time among the living had not yet expired though, and she did not brood over death, for she had two sons to raise, and she intended to raise them up big and strong like their father would have expected.

"Kensic!" shouted Mira. "Tevanon! Supper is ready!" She didn't wait for them and turned back inside the small hut where a man was seated at a circular wooden table. He wasn't much older than Mira although his graying beard and tired expression suggested otherwise.

"The boys can help you with the harvest tomorrow," said Mira.

"Very good," replied the man. His name was Yelob, and he was the owner of the hut Mira called home. He was also Mira's brother, a farmer who was once a soldier until he suffered a crippling blow to his left leg that left him with a hobbling limp. His limited mobility led to his discharge from military service, and he had no choice but to find another livelihood. That was ten years ago, and for all of those years Yelob had been a potato farmer.

Yelob was the only family that Mira had left in Lynsid. After her husband's death, she had nowhere to go and no way to support her two young sons. She went to her brother, and as she stood on his doorstep with six-year-old Tevanon and two-year-old Kensic, Yelob could hardly turn her away. In hindsight, he was glad that he didn't. Mira was a hardworking woman and took on many of the chores Yelob was not so fond of, specifically cooking, sewing, and laundry. Her contribution allowed Yelob more time to tend to the farm, and when Tevanon reached the age of seven he was expected to help his uncle with simple chores such as weeding the fields and trapping gophers. Kensic too would follow this path.

With help from Mira and her boys, the rather shabby farm that Yelob had struggled to make profitable turned into a farm that could support a family, which allowed for the purchase of new linens and beef that was typically uncommon outside the upper class. Yelob was pleased with his good fortune, but he would not have wished such a life upon anyone and most especially those he cared about most. He had only become a farmer because he was unfit to continue as a soldier. In his heart, however, he had never been anything but a great warrior of the Lynsid army. And that was what he wanted for his nephews who were the sons of Cordon, a mighty soldier and well-respected sergeant of Lynsid. In honor of his sister and her late husband, Yelob took it upon himself to train Kensic and Tevanon in combat, both with a weapon and without.

Tevanon barged into the hut, his long brown hair swaying over his burgundy tunic that hung below the waist of his goat hide pants. He was big for thirteen, already taller than most grown men and easily as strong. Tevanon was molded after his father who was a huge man with great physical strength. "Uncle Yelob!" he shouted. "Can we practice sword fighting?"

"Is the east field clear of weeds?"

"Yes, sir!"

"And what of the gophers?"

"One of them is hanging outside!"

"I killed it with my new gopher trap!" Kensic shouted as he jumped out from behind Tevanon. Other than his clothing and his brown hair, Kensic had few physical similarities to his brother. He was small, nearly half the size of an average nine-year-old, which led to his being confused for a much younger boy.

"I see," said Yelob with no hint of a smile despite feeling a surge of pride in the young son of his sister. "And what of the rest of the gophers?"

"We found three snakes to release in their tunnels," said Tevanon.

"Very well then, we shall practice sword fighting after supper."

"I want to practice now!" shouted Tevanon, anger and impatience evident even before he balled his hands into fists.

Yelob was well aware of Tevanon's volatile temper and lack of patience. For years, he'd been trying to curb the boy's behavior without damaging his warrior spirit and enthusiasm for learning the various forms of combat. "Tevanon, must I tell you again to be mindful of your tone, to be in control of your emotions."

Tevanon looked away. The words of his uncle were all too familiar, but still he struggled to live by them. "Alright... alright, fine. We will train after supper."

"I for one can't wait to eat!" said Kensic as he slipped by his brother and sat down at the table.

Mira set a bowl of rabbit stew before him. "Eat up, Kensic," she said as she continued to fill three more bowls.

"I do enjoy rabbit stew."

Tevanon joined Kensic and Yelob at the table, and when Mira sat down only a moment after them, she led them in prayer. "Dear Arwaan," said Mira with her head lowered, "we thank you for the food we eat, the shelter in which we sleep, and the crop we grow. We pray that you protect us and guide us and give us strength to survive another day. Amen."

"Amen," repeated her sons and brother.

After supper, the brothers stood outside the hut while they waited for their uncle. Tevanon's impatience was steadily creeping up, but he was so far keeping it in check. In the sky, the moon was already showing, and Kensic couldn't help but stare upward at the fading blue sky. He thought about the world and the people in it, his god Arwaan and whether a god paid any attention to the thousands of prayers spoken daily. "Do you think Arwaan hears our prayers?" Kensic asked his brother.

"Of course," replied Tevanon adamantly.

"How do you know?"

"Because I believe in Arwaan. He is my god and he will protect me if I serve him."

Kensic looked away from his brother with a slight frown. He wanted to feel as Tevanon did, but he was skeptical. There seemed so much for a god to be responsible for, how could he possibly take an interest in all the people of the world.

Tevanon eyed his younger brother sensing his doubtful thoughts. "Trust me, brother; so long as we are loyal to Arwaan he will be loyal to us."

Yelob stepped out of the hut and jammed a longsword into the ground.

"Training has begun."

"Yes, sir!" shouted Kensic and Tevanon. They had learned at a very young age that their training would be no different from that of the military, and that their Uncle Yelob was the man in charge.

While the brothers stood at attention, Yelob handed a longsword to Tevanon, one that he had never seen. Regardless of its familiarity, Tevanon knew well how to handle a sword and so he squeezed the leather-wrapped grip with both hands, one near the pommel, and the other closer to the cross-guard. He lowered the sword so the steel blade was pointing outward and slightly upward. There was nothing especially aesthetic about the sword. It was plainly a double edged steel blade of considerable length with a hilt composed of a brushed steel cross-guard and pommel to match. The most striking element of the sword was the fanciful letter "C" that was engraved on the blade near the cross-guard.

"Tevanon," said Yelob, "you are old enough and skilled enough to have your own sword, and so I give you your father's sword."

Having his own sword was a grand reward in itself, but having his father's sword was enough to bring him to tears. He wiped them away quickly never removing his eyes from the blade that his father wielded many years before him. "The C stands for Cordon, yes?"

Yelob nodded. He remembered when he fetched the sword from the battlefield where Cordon had been killed. It had lain there for days, and it was only luck that it was still there when Yelob arrived. He knew that Cordon would have wanted his eldest son to have the sword when he reached the proper age. Seven years later, Tevanon had reached that age.

"I remember the last time I saw him," said Tevanon. "He lifted me in his arms and spun me around. I wanted him to stay forever." His eyes welled again.

There was pain in Yelob's eyes as well, for he could not remember that last time he'd seen his brother-in-law alive. He could only remember the image of his bloody corpse lying on the battlefield. "You are big and strong like he was, and you wield a sword with the same fierceness. Your father is proud of you, from wherever he watches. Honor him with your bravery and your swordsmanship."

Tevanon's face turned stern. "I will, and one day I shall fight for Lynsid just as he did."

Yelob smiled proudly then turned his attention to Kensic. "And for you young man, I have a weapon as well." He removed the steel dagger from the sheath on his belt.

"But this is yours, Uncle."

"And I want you to have it."

"Well, it is the right length for me."

Yelob laughed heartily. He was fond of Kensic's forthright commentary about his small size. Few young boys could so easily accept such a physical attribute and instead grew resentful and oversensitive. Kensic embraced his undersized stature and never considered it a weakness. He'd been dealt a hand that was quite dissimilar to his brother, and what he lacked in size he made up for in cleverness.

Yelob lowered himself to eye level with his nephew. "I will teach you all of its uses."

"I would rather study the use of siege weapons, but I shall make an exception."

"That is all I ask."

Training commenced and carried on for well beyond the sunset under the flickering light of two torches. For five years, Yelob had been training Tevanon in the ways of a soldier, and the large youth absorbed every lesson. He was aggressive and powerful, swift and calculated. His actions had become instinctive, allowing his mind to be one step ahead of his opponent. He was already a worthy soldier at just thirteen years old, and while many a young man learned to swing a sword, Yelob had known few who were as skilled as Tevanon. There was no question when he reached the age of sixteen, the minimum for military service, he would be welcomed into the Lynsid army.

Kensic had been training for barely a year and he was not nearly the caliber of student that his brother had been. This was not because he was lazy or unintelligent but rather he was uninterested in physical combat. His interest was in engineering, primarily the design and functionality of siege weapons, and he certainly had an aptitude for designing and constructing similar, albeit much smaller, contraptions. At nine years old, of course, he wasn't going to be considered for the king's corps of engineers, and Yelob could teach him little in the ways of engineering. Yelob had spent many a night trying to figure a way to earn the money to send Kensic to a school of engineering, but there was only so much a single family farm could produce, and it was not enough. Thus, Kensic's only option was to learn on his own accord, and that is exactly what he did to the best of his abilities.

Nearing the end of a long training session, Yelob gave one last command as Mira stood in the doorway of the hut and watched her sons mimic the behavior of soldiers. She smiled knowing that Tevanon was molded from the body and mind of his father while Kensic had her stature and intellect. Her sons made her proud and also sad, for they were a constant reminder that her husband was not coming back.

"Did you see, mother?" shouted Tevanon as he approached the hut. "Uncle Yelob gave me father's sword!"

"You have his stature and you swing a sword strong like he did."

"I wish I'd had a chance to know him better."

"He will always be in your heart."

Tevanon half smiled then continued into the hut as his brother ambled along behind him lost in his own little world.

"And what about you," said Mira, "with that dagger?"

"It suits my size."

"And your keen mind."

"Oh, mother."

"I mean it. We will all be envious when the king appoints you his personal siege engineer."

Kensic chuckled happily before entering the hut, and his happiness brought a smile to Mira's face. She then turned to Yelob who was not smiling, but then he rarely did. "I fear for Kensic," he said.

"Why?"

"He is not like Tevanon, not like his father, and he should already be in a specialty school, not the shabby farm school he attends now."

"He is but nine years old, he will get there."

"If only we could afford to send him to one of the great schools of Lynsid."

"Money is not the only way to be noticed."

"But it is the easiest."

"Perhaps the easy way is not what Arwaan has in mind for Kensic."

"Perhaps."

Mira looped her arm around her brother's and guided him into the hut.

# CHAPTER TWO

Yelob was up early even before the sun had broken the night sky. He was always anxious on the day of the harvest not unlike when he was a soldier anxious before battle. Farming and military service were similar if thought of from a certain perspective. Both provided a service to the nation, one to protect the people and the other to feed them. Neither could realistically exist without the other, and Yelob took great pride in serving his nation even though he would have preferred to be on the frontline of the battlefield. Not one to dwell on the past, he happily grabbed a stack of canvas sacks and started for the north field where hundreds of leafy potato plants were ready to be harvested.

Tevanon soon joined him and together they sifted through the dirt plucking potatoes and placing them in the canvas sacks. Later on, Kensic and Mira arrived, and for all of the day they worked until the sun fell from the sky and night had taken over.

Yelob threw the last sack of potatoes on the horse cart then made his way into the hut. He was pleased with the work they'd accomplished, but his expression suggested otherwise. "The cart's full," he said to Mira. "In the morrow, I'm going into town to sell the lot. I'll be back in the afternoon."

"The boys and I will continue the harvest."

"Very well."

The next morning, Yelob was on the road before sunrise and well before his sister and nephews had awakened. The trip to town would take much of the day, and he didn't want to waste any time.

At the first sign of the sun, Mira was awake, and like every morning, she set out bread and cheese on the table before she woke her sons. They ate breakfast together then proceeded to the north field to finish the harvest.

"Mother," said Kensic before he'd dug out a single potato, "I really don't want to dig for potatoes today."

"I see, well, you can collect wood for the fire, and the hut needs sweeping, and there is laundry that needs doing."

Kensic's already sour expression soured further.

"If none of those chores suit you, I'm sure your uncle would be pleased if you'd weed the east and west fields in preparation for carrot season."

"I suppose I'm in no mood to work at all."

"Not working is not one of your choices."

Kensic reluctantly got down on his knees and started digging for potatoes.

"Your father worked harder on those days in which he didn't want to work, much like Tevanon." She gestured to her oldest son.

Kensic frowned. "I think Tevanon uses his anger to work harder."

"Well, whatever the case, he reflects your father's vigorous spirit."

Most days Kensic didn't mind that Tevanon was most like their father. Other days, however, he found the comparisons to be rather demoralizing. This was one of those days. He was also the son of Cordon, even if he didn't necessarily look like him or work like him or swing a sword like him. To his mother and uncle though, he seemed to be the son that wasn't like his father, and that meant he had to work twice as hard to please his dead father.

Tevanon glanced at his brother and smiled. He knew Kensic would much rather have been building another gopher trap. "After the harvest you can get back to work on your experimental devices!"

"Very well," replied Kensic politely, but obviously disappointed.

* * *

By late morning, Mira and her sons had finished the north field. They sat down for a meal before proceeding to work in the smaller south field for the remainder of the day. Yelob joined them when he returned in the afternoon, and with his help, they were able to finish the south field just before suppertime. He told the boys to go eat then loaded the sacks of potatoes into the horse cart in preparation for another trip to town. When he was done, supper was long over, and he entered the hut to find that Mira had kept his meal over the fire; rabbit stew with chunks of potato.

"Sit down, Yelob, and rest," said Mira.

He hobbled to a stool and sat down as Mira served him a bowl of stew.

"This is not a good year for potatoes."

"No?"

"One silver coin apiece. In past years I've earned two or even three coins per each."

"It'll be enough."

With a grunt, Yelob ate some stew then asked, "Where are the boys?"

"I sent them to Ocre's to deliver a sack of potatoes."

"In town, I heard rumblings."

Concern fell upon Mira's face as she sat down across from her brother. "It's not good is it?"

Yelob's eyes widened with alertness.

"What is it?" asked Mira.

"Did you hear something?"

Mira quickly made her way to the entry of the hut. She peered out into the shadowed darkness lit only by two torches. There was nothing but a gentle breeze. "Just the wind."

Yelob exhaled loudly. "The situation in Lynsid is not good. Our old man of a king has once again decided against securing the southern border. He doesn't think the Vlagens have an army large enough to conquer Lynsid. The military does not agree."

"Does he not trust his own soldiers?"

Yelob frowned. "It seems he does not."

"It seems he no longer cares for his people as well! We are already suffering, and this once great nation is about to fall into nothingness, yet our king makes illogical decisions from deep within a secure castle in the capital city!"

"Barone is half the city it was just two years ago and nothing like a decade ago. The population is even thinner than it was six months ago, more shops have closed, and I dare say there are few soldiers present. If the Vlagens have raised a large army, I'm certain the worst will soon be upon us."

"Then we must prepare ourselves for one last stand."

"You should take your sons and leave this place. Find Uncle Welksley in Turlot; he would be honored to help raise his brother's grandchildren."

"I will do nothing of the sort! Lynsid is my home, the home where my husband fought and died, and my sons and I will do the same."

Yelob's always-stern expression seemed to soften and he almost smiled. "Very well. We shall meet our fate together."

* * *

"You are a cheat, Ecrom!" shouted Tevanon.

Ecrom was Ocre's oldest son, aged fourteen, and while he was a year older than Tevanon, he was quite a bit shorter. "Am not!" He replied aggressively.

In the torchlight outside Ocre's hut, they were playing a board game called Fox and Geese, and Tevanon was the fox. He'd so far taken six of Ecrom's thirteen geese but there were still eight geese on the board. Tevanon wasn't a genius of mathematics, but he surely knew that if he was holding six geese there should only be seven on the board which would equal thirteen. "Then why do you have eight geese on the board if I am holding six?!"

Before Ecrom could answer, Tevanon picked up the wooden board and slammed it over the older boy's head. The white pegs and one black fox peg launched off the board as Ecrom toppled to the ground. Ocre's younger son, Ozzen, scurried to help him while Tevanon hurled the game as if he was competing in a discus competition.

Kensic then touched his brother's arm. "Calm down, Tevanon. It's only a game."

Tevanon shook off his brother. "I haven't any patience for cheaters! And Ecrom is a born cheater!"

"So, I cheat to win," said Ecrom with a shrug. "Your uncle would do the same."

Many things caused Tevanon's temper to flare. Cheating was one of those things, and so was a slandering comment about one of his family members. Ecrom knew this and did it on purpose. He was rather devious and malicious when it came to getting Tevanon into trouble, and mostly because he was jealous of the younger boy's size and abilities. One of those abilities was hand-to-hand combat; Tevanon grabbed Ecrom and hurled him haphazardly. Ecrom crashed down at the feet of his father and looked up. "Tevanon has lost his temper again, father!"

Ocre was a pudgy man, and much of the hair atop his head had left him long ago. He'd been a farmer for most of his life, and while he could be stern, he certainly did not have the sternness or the discipline of a soldier. "Tevanon!" he shouted. "I've had enough of your poor temperament. Your uncle will hear of this!"

"You don't scare me, Ocre!"

"I don't have to; Yelob will beat you like an out-of-line soldier." Ocre chuckled. "Now, get out of here!"

Tevanon signaled to Kensic. "Let's go, brother."

"Yes, I'll race you home!" said Kensic trying to get his brother's mind off being angry with Ocre and Ecrom.

"Very well." Tevanon was gone in a flash, but Kensic remained long enough to say goodbye to Ocre, Ecrom and Ozzen. At just nine-years-old, Kensic always adhered to proper etiquette; he was polite even during a tense situation. After his formal goodbye, he ran after his brother.

Tevanon was quite a ways ahead, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw no sign of Kensic. He didn't expect to see him, but still there was always a chance. Then again, there really wasn't any chance for Kensic to win a footrace against Tevanon. Tevanon was bigger, stronger and he didn't like to lose so he didn't go easy on his brother just because he was much smaller and slower. Despite these factors, Kensic always wanted to race home.

As usual, Tevanon won again, and as he approached the hut, he slowed to a walk then turned to wait for Kensic. That's when he heard his uncle say, "In town, I heard rumblings" followed by his mother's voice, "It's not good is it?" Tevanon moved closer to the doorway so he could better hear the conversation between his mother and uncle. He stumbled then leaped behind the worktable to the left of the entry.

"What is it?" his mother asked.

"Did you hear something?" Yelob questioned.

Crouched in the shadows behind the table and several large baskets filled with grains, Tevanon kept as still as was possible. He watched his mother lean out of the doorway to scan the open area fronting the hut. Then the conversation continued, and when it had ended, Tevanon felt a surge of pride flowing through him. Like his father, he would die fighting to protect his country. The conversation was barely over when the sound of Kensic's footsteps caught his attention. Tevanon lunged out from behind the table and grabbed his brother. "I beat you again!"

"I was closer this time," replied Kensic proudly as he sucked in a deep breath of air.

Tevanon laughed loudly, "Hardly!"

Kensic's proud expression quickly turned to defeat. "I know I'll never beat you in a foot race and I'll never swing a sword as well as you, but do you think in some way there's a chance that father would be proud of me?"

Tevanon had never considered that Kensic might feel like the inferior son of Cordon. When he thought about it, there was certainly evidence to support such a feeling. Both Uncle Yelob and his mother commented on how similar he was to Cordon, and the townspeople made similar comments as well. Kensic, on the other hand, was seen as the son of Cordon who had nothing in common with Cordon. He was inherently more similar to his mother, but no one seemed interested in pointing it out. Although, being compared to his mother may not have lessened his desire to be more like his father. Tevanon often had no idea how Kensic felt about things because his even tempered personality was difficult to read, and it would have been nearly impossible to know that he was affected by the fact that he had little in common with his father. Perhaps his outwardly uncaring attitude had been misinterpreted by those closest to him, which was all the more reason for Tevanon to feel terrible, and he did, not only because of all the comments his brother had to endure, but because he'd failed to recognize Kensic's true feelings. He didn't want his brother to feel inferior, and he absolutely did not want him to believe that their father would not have been proud of him.

"Father is certainly proud of you!" said Tevanon with absoluteness. "Just look at your inventions! Any farmer in these parts would gladly pay for such devices, and because of your smarts I believe that father is smiling down on you."

Kensic smiled shyly as Tevanon wrapped an arm around him and they entered the hut.

Later that night, Tevanon lay in bed wide-awake grappling with thoughts of the conversation he'd overheard. On the one hand, he was eager to try his skills in a real battle, but on the other, he was not completely certain he was prepared to meet with death at the age of thirteen. Then there was the question of what would happen to his brother. Kensic wasn't big enough and strong enough to protect himself in the world of grown men; he'd surely be killed or enslaved. If that were to happen, Tevanon would never be able to live with himself, and even if he were to die, his anger and regret would not allow him to rest in the afterlife. It was then that Tevanon made the most important decision of his life, at least the most important decision of his life thus far. He decided that he would ensure his brother's survival and freedom. That meant, of course, that he would not be at liberty to die fighting for his country. For if there was an invasion he would have to survive, even if that meant hiding.

As quickly as hay ignites under flame, an idea came to him. He would dig a trench to hide himself and Kensic. Better yet, he would dig a trench to hide his brother and his mother and his uncle. There was no reason for them to die. All of them could hide until after the invasion then they could flee the country. It was perfect. So perfect, Tevanon was up with the first ray of sun. He set out in search of an adequate location for his trench, and found one just beyond the east field at the edge of the forest. There he began digging the trench that would save his family from certain death at the hands of the Vlagens.

The sun was fully visible above the nearby forest when Mira called to her oldest son. Tevanon came running from the east field knowing that his mother's voice meant breakfast was ready. When he entered the hut, Kensic was already at the table devouring the bread and cheese before him.

"You were up early this morning," said Mira.

"I'm working in the east field," said Tevanon. "Did Uncle ride in to town?"

"He did."

Tevanon ate in a hurry then addressed his mother. "I'm taking Kensic with me, is that okay?"

"I don't want to work in the field today too!"

"I want you to build me a device."

Kensic paused, his face curious. "What kind of device?"

"Come with me and I'll show you."

"Alright, I'll at least listen to your idea."

Tevanon smiled at his brother then led the way through the door.

"Make sure he gets to Ocre's by midday for his reading lesson," said Mira.

Hearing Ocre's name made Tevanon scowl, but he knew that Ocre's wife was the only teacher anywhere near them. "I will!" he shouted as he and Kensic started for the east field.

As the brothers walked side by side, Tevanon took the opportunity to make his vow to Kensic. "I want you to know, Kensic, that I will never let you down."

Kensic looked up at his brother with a rather confused look on his face. "I've never felt that you would."

Tevanon stopped and gently squeezed his brother's shoulder. "It's important that you never forget what I say to you here and now."

"Okay, I won't forget."

"I will never let you down, and I will be there for you always, in this life and the next."

Kensic said nothing. He smiled as he wrapped his brother in a hug that seemed to last several minutes. Tevanon smiled too and patted Kensic on the back.

Kensic quickly returned to the business at hand. "Lead the way," he said, "I'm very interested in what you're working on."

"Very well."

They ran to the three-foot deep trench that Tevanon had started early that morning. Kensic stared at the shallow hole unsure what to make of it.

"I'm digging a trench that might conceal people," said Tevanon.

"Who are you planning to hide from?"

"It's experimental, and I want you to design a hatch that leads into the trench."

"That's easy!"

"But I don't want it to look like a hatch. It must blend in."

"A hidden hatch." Kensic pondered the idea for a moment. "Yes, I like it. You may be big and strong like father, but you're also clever like me."

"Not so clever as you, brother."

Kensic gestured to one of the smaller trees at the edge of the forest. "We may have to chop one of these down."

"Just tell me what you need. I'll be digging for much of the day."

* * *

Yelob sat atop his potato-filled cart and prodded his single horse to pull him down the stone paved road that led to Barone. The road was unusually barren of travelers, and as he approached the massive walls of the city, it appeared more like a ghost town than the usual bustling capital city that it was. A closer look revealed that access to the city was completely sealed; an iron gate blocked the entry to shops and shows and services; and soldiers stood alert at the tops of the towers that surrounded the city and the castle.

"Halt!" yelled a guard atop the nearest tower.

Yelob's horse drawn cart slowed to a stop.

"Only military personnel are permitted to enter."

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Lynsid is under attack from the south, and the city will be closed for an undetermined amount of time."

It was the Vlagens from the Aronee Desert; exactly the rumor Yelob heard the previous day, but he wasn't expecting the attack to come so soon though.

"How long since you received word?" asked Yelob.

"It was before sunrise. Calculating travel time, the invasion began late last night. By now our southern defenses have likely been broken."

"Dear Arwaan!" The fear in Yelob's eyes was obvious, but it was not fear for himself. It was fear for his sister and her sons. If the invasion began last night, the Vlagens could be upon his farm as early as midday, and there was no way for him to return in time to warn Mira. Still, he had to try.

# CHAPTER THREE

Four paces long by three paces wide by five paces deep... that was the size of the trench Tevanon spent nearly five hours digging. He also chopped down two trees so his brother could use the wood to build the hidden hatch, which Kensic engineered into a cleverly camouflaged covering that fit over the trench perfectly.

"Brilliant work, Kensic!" said Tevanon looking at the well-disguised trench cover.

"I think it needs more blending if it's to remain hidden from those who pass close by."

"All right, what do we need?"

"More grass."

Kensic carefully added more of the dry golden grass to the already heavily camouflaged cover. He was meticulous when it came to detail and refused to leave any wood showing indicating such a blunder would defeat the purpose of a hidden hatch. He was right, of course. The purpose of hiding something was so that it was not found, and Kensic always took very seriously the intended goal of the project he was working on.

As Tevanon brought him more bundles of grass, Kensic placed them where he saw a weakness in the camouflage. Soon enough he'd weaved together a trench cover that was impossible to differentiate from the surrounding landscape.

"That's more like it," he said stepping back. "What do you think?"

Tevanon was distracted. His eyes were narrowed and his head was angled as though he were straining to hear something far away. It was the sound of hooves beating the ground, but it wasn't just one or two horses as was common near their farm; this was the sound of hundreds even thousands of horses charging ahead. Tevanon stood motionless unintentionally ignoring his brother's questions. Then Kensic heard it too. "What is that?" he asked his brother.

"An army."

"An army?"

"Get inside the trench," Tevanon said with urgency. "The Vlagens are coming."

"What about mother?"

"I'll get her, but you must promise not to come out of hiding."

"I promise."

Tevanon picked up his sword and slung the sheathed weapon over his back. The beating of horses' hooves grew louder. There was not much time before the Vlagens would be galloping through their farm, burning everything in sight, killing everything in their path. Tevanon cleared his mind of the dark vision then lifted the hidden hatch for his brother. The younger boy slid into the deep hole and looked up. "I'm scared, Tevanon."

"You'll be safe in this hidden trench, and I'll be back with mother quicker than a jack rabbit."

Kensic nodded, and Tevanon hurriedly closed the hatch before making a dash for the hut. He hoped his mother was there otherwise he would have to search for her and that would take time, which was already in short supply.

"Mother!" he called as he burst through the opening of the hut.

There was no response.

"Mother!" he called again.

She wasn't there, but he noticed the basket of dirty linens was missing. That meant she'd gone to the creek to wash their clothes. Tevanon darted out of the hut and what he saw sent a shiver of fear down his spine. More than twenty horsemen were heading straight for him and he knew they had only one thing on their minds... total destruction.

"Tevanon!"

The boy turned to see his mother running up the trail from the creek. He ran toward her and shouted, "Mother!"

They embraced briefly then Mira asked, "Where is Kensic?"

"Well hidden. Come with me, we're going to him now."

Mira looked at the riders approaching fast. "Listen, Tevanon. If something happens to me, you must go to Ketraveria in Turlot and find your Great Uncle Welksley. He is your only family."

"Nothing is going to happen to you! I have the perfect hiding place. Let's go!"

"I must collect something from the hut."

"There's no time!"

"It was your father's. Now, go on, I'll be right behind you!"

"Meet me at the edge of the east forest."

Mira nodded. "Go!"

Tevanon ran for the hidden trench where his brother was already safely concealed. He'd barely made it halfway when the fast approaching horsemen split into two groups, one heading for him and the other heading for the hut. Knowing there was no way to get inside the trench without giving away its location, Tevanon stopped in the middle of the east field and drew his sword. Then he looked to the sky. "Arwaan, I ask that you give me the strength to survive this day. I ask this of you so that I may uphold a promise to my brother. He is young and small and will need help reaching my Great Uncle Welksley in Turlot. Please, Arwaan, answer my prayer."

The Vlagen invaders charged across the south field, ten of them veering toward Tevanon, and the rest heading to Yelob's hut where Mira now stood wielding a bow. From the quiver on her back, she pulled an arrow then lowered herself to one knee as she aimed for the rider leading the way toward her eldest son. She let go the string and the steel tipped arrow advanced on a perfectly straight path through the rider's neck. His body slouched then slid dead from his horse.

The next rider got it through the chest and the one after him through the shoulder. Every shot was precise and Tevanon looked on with confused pride. He didn't know his mother was an expert archer. He'd never even seen her hold a bow let alone fire off an arrow. Regardless, she knew what she was doing, and the three dead Vlagens would agree as would the five others riding with arrows stuck in their bodies.

Her precision, however, was not enough to withstand the overwhelming number of invading riders, and after dropping one more she was overtaken.

"Mother!" yelled Tevanon with terror on his face as a Vlagen war club smashed his mother's head. The bow fell from her grip, and her body went limp. Tevanon watched; the world stopped in his mind. He wanted to shout out his objection to what he'd witnessed; he wanted to curse his god; he wanted to cry until the pain was gone. None of these things did he do. He watched his mother's dead body collapse on the ground. The pain in his heart caused his eyes to water, but he did not cry; he got angry, and his anger fueled his desire for personal justice. Weighted by the promise to his brother, and now with the pain of seeing his mother killed, he turned his attention to the horsemen charging toward him.

The first rider let out a roaring battlecry as he swung his steel axe seemingly uncontrollably. Tevanon slipped under the half-moon blade while thrusting his sword in an upward motion that severed the Vlagen's arm. The two riders behind fared no better as Tevanon's sword easily cut them down leaving the four remaining Vlagens to reconsider their approach. They split into pairs and circled around to regroup with the riders that killed Mira. An exchange of dialogue took place then they divided into two groups of seven. The first group headed north toward the castle in Barone, and the second group formed a line across the east field clearly stating, without words, their only mission was to kill Tevanon.

In the meantime, the man-sized thirteen-year-old mounted one of the dead Vlagen's stray horses. His eyes fell upon the one man he hated one hundred times more than the others; the man who held the war club stained with his mother's blood. Vengeance and hatred burned in his skull. He thrust his heels into his mount and charged toward his enemies.

A single swipe of his sword took down the first rider, but the second was joined by a third and together they commenced their attack with relentless vigor. Tevanon had to rely on all his training to keep the Vlagen blades from carving him like a turkey, and then suddenly, a club struck his shoulder knocking him clean off his horse. He crashed in the dirt and rolled then sprang up thrusting his sword through the abdomen of the second rider, and while the mauled Vlagen was affixed to the long blade, Tevanon hurled him at the third rider like a boulder from a catapult. The slain second rider collided with the third and both men fell to the ground where Tevanon pounced on them like a rabid beast hungry for human flesh.

Now Tevanon was surrounded by the four remaining Vlagens. It was then that the man who killed his mother called out to his allies. He spoke in a foreign language, but it was clear that he was the leader of this troop, and his men were intent on following his orders. Two of them charged Tevanon, their blades eager to cut the flesh of the boy who'd already killed several of their comrades. Tevanon dropped to the ground as sharpened steel slashed the air above him. Even before he'd risen to his knees, he was charged again. He kept low to the ground, out of range of the soldiers' blades, but not out of range the galloping horses. His arm was clipped by a horse's rear leg, and the force of the large animal spun him disoriented. Shaking off the blow, Tevanon raised up to his knees and spit the dirt from his mouth completely unaware of the danger behind him. A club struck him square in the center of his back, and he fell prone across the east field of his uncle's potato farm. Still conscious, he lay there regaining his wits.

The Vlagen leader called out another command, which prompted two of the soldiers to dismount. One carried a rope, the other just his sword. They approached Tevanon slowly, cautiously. He was to become a prisoner of war, but the cry of a Lynsid warrior distracted the Vlagens, and when they turned, they saw but one man riding a white horse.

Yelob's arrival was as precise as Mira's aim with a bow. He sped past the Vlagen nearest Tevanon and promptly removed the soldier's head before dismounting the rider nearby. Then he urged his horse toward the leader. Yelob's warrior spirit seemed to glow around him; he was bold and uninhibited as though he was once again a young soldier. The club wielding Vlagen was no easy prey though, and he easily block Yelob's next blow. This did not discourage Yelob, but his focus was narrow, and he failed to see the movements of the soldier he'd dismounted moments ago. Then it was too late. A dagger penetrated Yelob's torso and ripped open the skin below the ribs. With a grunt, he instinctively swung his sword and sliced the Vlagen soldier from his abdomen to his chest. The immediate threat was gone, but Yelob's wound was serious. A blanket of dizziness covered him; his awareness deadened; his vision blurred. A club struck him hard across the back, and he fell from his horse. Lying there unable to move and with no feeling in his body, he stared up at the sky knowing his final day had come.

Tevanon had seen it all, and now he stared painfully at his uncle's unmoving body. Having lost his mother was already too much for one day, but to lose both the people who had cared for him throughout his youth was emotionally crippling. He could feel tears creeping into the sockets of his eyes, but more powerful than that, he felt a surge of anger from deep within his soul. It was sadness and hate and an overwhelming desire for revenge. His body shuddered with madness as he sprang to his feet. Only two Vlagens remained; the leader and one soldier. Tevanon wasted no time. He slashed the remaining soldier then faced the leader of the Vlagen intruders, the man who'd killed his mother and uncle. "Hear me Vlagen scum!" shouted Tevanon.

The Vlagen leader lowered his chin as he gazed into the eyes of Tevanon waiting for the boy to continue.

"You may not speak my language, but my blade will speak to you clearly!"

With a grimace, the Vlagen leader dismounted his horse. "I speak Landorin well enough." His voice was gruff and with a heavy accent, but Tevanon had no trouble understanding him.

"You speak Landorin?"

"As well as you swing a sword."

Tevanon thrust his sword; the Vlagen leader laughed as he easily sidestepped the attack.

"You killed my mother!"

"And you will soon join her."

The Vlagen swung his heavy club; it smashed against Tevanon's sword, the force of the blow causing the younger warrior to stumble backwards. Another blow followed and another after that. Tevanon blocked and dodged and blocked and dodged and then a misstep toppled him. He rolled to avoid the Vlagen's club then leaned up to block the next blow. The club swung low striking the crossguard of Tevanon's sword and knocking it out of his hands. Tevanon was completely defenseless.

"You might have grown up to be a great warrior." A smug smile spread across the Vlagen's brown-skinned face. "But such will never be." He raised his mighty club; suddenly, his smile was gone, now a pain filled cringe as he coughed out a breath. Behind him, there stood another boy, a younger boy than the one lying before him. Within his tightly clenched hands, the younger boy held a dagger dripping of blood. It was Kensic, his expression stoic. He stumbled backwards and dropped his dagger.

The Vlagen leader let out a growl and it seemed that Kensic was going to be smashed by his heavy club. Tevanon, however, was already in motion. He seized his sword and leapt up swinging the long blade with all the anger from deep inside his heart. The Vlagen leader's arms were severed, and his club dropped on his own head. He fell to his knees, his smile still smug. "I may die, but soon this land will be filled with my people, and you will be a slave to them." He sputtered a laugh.

"Not likely." Tevanon drove his sword into the Vlagen's chest. A grunting cough was followed by death.

"Is Mother okay?" asked Kensic.

Tevanon ignored his brother and hurried to his Uncle Yelob. A pool of blood had formed beside him as he lay motionless in his trampled potato field. The tears that Tevanon fought so hard not to allow were now streaming down his face. He was overcome with grief; his whole life had been taken from him in a mere moment. Then Yelob's hand twitched and the presumed dead man spoke.

"I... I'm proud... of you... Tevanon."

"Uncle Yelob! You're alive!"

"Tell your... mother... I'll miss her."

Tevanon's lips twitched and he cried again. "She is already gone."

Kensic was well within earshot of his brother and while he was unprepared for what he heard, he did not cry. Nor did he curse his god or shout with rage. He stood quietly staring at his dying uncle.

"I'm sorry... Tevanon." Yelob placed his hand on Tevanon's knee. "There are... two hundred silver coins... in a sack... in the barrel beside my bed... Take it... and leave Lynsid... this nation is... no more."

Yelob's breaths shallowed, and his eyes rolled back in his head.

"Uncle Yelob!" said Tevanon. "Please don't leave us."

"Arwaan...will... guide... you." Yelob had spoken his final words, and that meant that Tevanon and Kensic had no one but each other.

"Where will we go?" asked Kensic as he knelt down next to his sobbing brother.

Tevanon turned his head slightly enough so that he could see Kensic's eyes. "To Ketraveria in Turlot, where our Great Uncle Welksley resides."

# CHAPTER FOUR

The brothers hurriedly buried their mother and their uncle in the trench that Tevanon intended to use as a hiding place to keep all of them alive. In the end, the trench had kept Kensic alive and from a certain perspective, it also kept Tevanon alive. For if Kensic had not been in hiding, he likely would have been killed, and in turn would not have been present to stab the Vlagen leader just in time to save Tevanon from certain death. Therefore, while the hidden trench became a grave, it had also served its purpose, just not exactly as Tevanon had planned.

Kensic laid a collection of flowers on the hatch then looked up at his brother. "Should we say something?"

Tevanon nodded, but he was choked up with grief and could do nothing but cry.

"I will say something," said Kensic. "Mother, we will miss how you cared for us, your concern, and discipline, and your never ending hope. You will always be in our hearts." He lowered his head and paused for a moment then returned his gaze to the grave. "Uncle Yelob, you were like a father to us. You taught us to be soldiers, to be brave in the face of fear, and to always believe in ourselves. We will forever miss your guidance."

Tevanon wiped his tears then turned to his emotionless brother. "How do you not cry?"

"I don't know because the sadness is in my heart, but death is part of life... must I have an emotion?"

Tevanon's anger emerged. "If I could kill every last Vlagen, I would do it!"

"That is why you are a warrior and I am not." Kensic sat down in the dirt.

"How mean you?" asked Tevanon curious about the thoughts of his younger brother.

"Warriors are a deeply emotional lot. They choose sides based on their emotions and a warrior wears his emotions on his armor. It is emotion that guides a warrior in love and hate, fear and bravery."

"Yes, I see what you mean." Tevanon sat next to his brother. "And you are not a person of deep emotion?"

"I am a person of logic."

"Maybe so, but because of your blade I am still alive."

"Ah, but it was logical that I help you, for I am but nine-years-old and not nearly as strong as you. What would become of me were I to travel to Turlot alone?

"You are saying your choice was based on survival?"

"From a certain way of looking at things, yes. I'm certainly not that brave... after all, I stabbed a man in the back who didn't even know I was on the battlefield."

"Well, that is true, but I still think you have the bravery of a soldier."

"I may not have shown it, but I was more scared than I have ever been."

Tevanon chuckled as he stood up. "Are you afraid to mount a horse?"

Kensic furrowed his brow. "You know that I am not."

"Good then, it's time we left Lynsid behind."

"I will miss this place."

"I as well."

Tevanon claimed the Vlagen sergeant's dark brown horse as his own, and with two sacks of potatoes slung over the saddle he mounted the well-disciplined animal and called to his brother. Kensic was struggling to mount Coneese, Yelob's pure white horse. It was not a matter of ability so much as it was a matter of size. At Kensic's height, he stood barely above Coneese's belly! Finally, he managed to get in the saddle and with a nod the brothers were ready to start their journey to Turlot in hopes of finding their Great Uncle Welksley.

"We will take the pass through the Northland Mountains to Shiriza," said Tevanon.

"What about the Vlagens? They're surely everywhere by now."

"We will travel through the forest."

"But the forest doesn't lead to the pass."

"I know, but it will be safer through the forest. The Vlagens will likely stay near villages and towns. Once we reach the mountains we'll head south to the pass."

"What about the Northland Tribes?"

"I do not think they roam as far south as the pass, but we will be cautious. Are you ready, brother?"

"I am."

Emplo Forest spread from east of Yelob's farm to north of Barone and west to the Northland Mountains. It was a dense forest of mostly coniferous trees and mangy shrubbery that was difficult to pass through. Narrow horse trails sprawled in various directions and led to nowhere in particular unless navigated by a person familiar with the landscape. Tevanon and Kensic were not familiar with the landscape and after several hours of travel, they found themselves in a maze of similar looking plant life and crisscrossing trails.

"I fear we may be lost," said Tevanon.

"It does not seem hard to get lost in here."

"And less hard to die!" The voice came from behind and distracted the brothers from noticing a second man who swung down from a tree. Tevanon turned as he caught the movement from the corner of his eye. There was no time to grab his sword and he was tackled off his horse.

Coneese reared amidst the commotion, but Kensic's tight grip on the reins kept him in the saddle... for a moment. Then he was pulled down.

Tevanon jumped to his feet with fists poised for a fight. He didn't care that his sword was trotting away with his horse. He cared only to inflict pain on the men who'd just hijacked him.

Kensic was now a hostage with a knife pressed against his neck. The man holding him shouted to Tevanon, "Stand down or the boy dies!"

"Kill them, Tevanon!" shouted Kensic, a comment that made his captor flash a smile of blackened teeth from within his hooded tunic.

Tevanon wanted to kill both the men he was facing, but he was in no position to do any such thing without chancing his brother's death. With a loud exhale, he lowered his fists and said, "What do you want?"

"We're taking your horses," said the man who'd tackled Tevanon. He was a scruffy-haired man wearing a ragged assortment of animal skins, and now wielding a knife like his partner.

"Very well, but let my brother go."

"Ah, yer brother!" exclaimed the hooded man, his knife still pressed against Kensic's throat. "Greal there, is me brother! Well, not me real brother, but a brother of da road—"

"A criminal brother," blurted Tevanon.

"Hey, I don't likes the sound a that," replied Greal scratching at his dirty beard.

Tevanon's hands were at his sides, but still balled into fists. "You are common road robbers, and I warn you not to harm my brother."

The hooded man pressed his knife harder against the skin of Kensic's neck. As he did, he jutted back his head causing his hood to slide off. His face glistened with dirty sweat, and his beady black eyes beamed forward like two dark pits that led to the underworld. "He _warns_ us not to harm his brother," he uttered as he glared at Tevanon. "Or what will ya do?"

Tevanon's jaw tightened. His anger was growing more intense. "I will hunt you down and kill you like the mangy rodents you are."

Greal laughed hysterically. "Ya hear that, Kerd? Mangy rodents, says da unarmed man!"

Tevanon slowly moved toward Uncle Yelob's white horse and grabbed the reins. "This horse is called Coneese. Take him and my brown horse in exchange for my brother."

"As it turns out," said Kerd, his beady black eyes still beaming, "we need ya to do something else fer us before we give back yer brother."

Tevanon eyed the man.

"Tell him," Kerd said to Greal.

"We need ya to steal somethin' fer us."

"Very well," said Tevanon, "lead the way."

"You'll lead da way, and I'll give directions from behind."

Tevanon smiled inside his mind. He could have easily grabbed Kensic's dagger and killed Greal. Unfortunately, there was a blade at Kensic's throat, and so, with reluctance, Tevanon handed over the reins of Coneese and stood back as Greal climbed atop the white horse then ordered Tevanon to collect up the brown horse that was farther down the trail. Tevanon did as he was ordered, but like with Kensic's dagger, he was tempted to grab his sword. Only his brother's life kept his reckless thoughts in check.

Kerd ordered Kensic to mount the brown horse all the while he kept his knife pressed against the boy's abdomen. Kensic struggled into the saddle as he always did, and the hooded man climbed on behind him making sure to keep his blade where Kensic would not forget it was there and where Tevanon could see it.

From atop Coneese, Greal called out directions to Tevanon who was in front of him on foot. For what seemed a half a day, but in truth was much less, Tevanon followed the orders of Greal. Finally, the hijacker called out, "Stop!"

Tevanon halted and turned toward his captors as they dismounted. All the while, Kerd kept his knife close to Kensic's skin. Then Greal grabbed Tevanon's sword and slung it over his back, a sight that was enough to make Tevanon swell with anger. No one touched his father's sword but him. His blood was at boiling point, and the tension in his muscles made him shake. Still, the one factor that kept him from doing something foolish was that his brother's life was in jeopardy. He would not let down his brother.

"Where are we going?" asked Tevanon.

"Just follow dat trail," said Greal, "and don't look back unless I tell ya to."

Tevanon took a deep breath in an effort to control his anger. His uncle had always told him he needed to gain better control of his anger if he wished to excel as a soldier. This was an opportunity to practice, although, Tevanon did not want to. He would have rather slain these two men and pondered his anger later. As he started along the trail, his mind cycled through all the possible ways to escape. While there were many, timing was possibly the most important factor, and good timing required patience... another lesson his uncle tried to teach him but with little success. Tevanon did not possess great patience nor had he placed great emphasis on becoming a more patient person. He was exponentially more interested in the techniques of swordsmanship, and in learning the many ways to slay an enemy. The current situation, however, had proven that he was capable of being patient despite his inner struggle with the concept.

"Farther ahead der's a clearing," said Greal. "We'll stop der and wait fer night."

By the time they reached the clearing the forest was beginning to darken, evidence of sunset. Tevanon sat down on a moss-covered log that had once been a tall oak tree. Greal remained standing while Kerd tied Kensic to a slender beech tree with twine rope.

"Are ya'fraid, little boy?" asked Kerd as he pressed the point of his knife to Kensic's neck.

"No," said Kensic with a straight face. "Kill me if you like, my brother will avenge me."

"This one's had some schooling."

"Sounds like military school," said Greal.

"Our uncle was a soldier in the Lynsid army," said Tevanon.

"Why didn't he teach you to steer clear of robbers?"

Tevanon gripped the dead tree upon which he was sitting. His overwhelming desire to kill these robbers was interfering with his ability to be patient. Uncle Yelob had always said patience was a warrior's greatest ally. For, if one had great patience an opportunity would never be missed. Uncle Yelob's definition of opportunity was to slay the enemy. Tevanon knew the lesson well; he just wasn't always good at applying it. So far, this was his best effort.

As night took over the sky there was little talk between the robbers. Their plan was in progress, and there pawn was willing to oblige them so long as a blade was held to his brother's throat.

"Get up," said Greal.

It was too dark to see Greal's face clearly, but Tevanon knew the order was intended for him and he promptly obeyed the command.

"Head dat way and walk till ya reach da ridge."

Again, Tevanon did as he was told. "What will you do to my brother?"

"Nothin', so long as ya do as I say."

They reached the ridge, which was also the edge of the forest, and below, there was an assortment of tents surrounding a campfire.

"Travelers from Detoa," said Greal. "They have somethin' a mine."

"I hardly think that's true," replied Tevanon.

"Don't think at all! Just do what I say and yer brother'll live."

"Very well. What would you have me do?"

Greal pointed to the only tent with two guards standing at the front.

"Inside dat tent you'll find a wood carved box. Bring it to me."

"What's inside?"

"Don't bother yerself with da details. And don't get caught or yer brother will pay da price!"

Tevanon frowned then started down the steep ridge that led to the travelers' campsite. He snuck behind the nearest tent and peaked around so he could see the campfire. Three men and a woman were sitting in a half circle around the fire, and they were in the midst of what appeared to be a heated conversation. Tevanon took advantage of their distractedness and scurried along the backside of the tents on his way toward the one guarded tent. All was going as planned until a hand covered his mouth and the point of a knife pressed against his back.

"You will not struggle and you will not scream or you will be dead," spoke a man's voice, calm and matter-of-factly. He removed his hand from Tevanon's mouth but kept the blade at his back. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

Tevanon's jaw tightened. He was mad that he'd been caught and likely by another criminal. "My name is Tevanon, and I'm likely here for the same reason you are."

"The Jewel of Detoa?"

Tevanon hadn't been told what he was stealing. Now he knew. Greal and Kerd were after the famed Jewel of Detoa. What he didn't know was why a jewel of such value was being transported by a very regular group of travelers. Perhaps this stranger, or thief, or whatever he was had the answer.

"Permission to speak?" asked Tevanon.

"Manners? How refreshing."

"Yes, well, I have no quarrel with you despite that I'm angry with myself for being hijacked by yet another common thief. My anger has found a place with the men holding my younger brother hostage. If I don't steal the Jewel of Detoa they're going to kill him."

"True is your word?"

"I swear to Arwaan."

"Interesting."

"Now, if I may ask you a question."

"Of course."

"Do you know why the Jewel of Detoa is traveling with a bunch of common folk and not with a troop of soldiers?"

The man chuckled. "They appear common out of strategy, but I assure you these men and women are nothing of the sort. They are the best lot of military personnel Detoa has to offer. And they are responsible for transporting the Jewel of Detoa to Shiriza for display at the world renowned Festival of the Jewels."

"If that be the case, I have no chance of success especially without a weapon."

"Even with a weapon you may find yourself hard pressed to succeed."

Tevanon lowered his head in frustration and it was then that the blade pressed against his back was pulled away. He didn't notice at first, not until the man behind him said, "My name is Avor and I may be able to help you."

Tevanon turned and saw that the man he'd been caught by was more than ten years his senior and quite a bit shorter. His skin was slightly brown like a walnut shell, and a band around his head kept his long black hair from falling in his face. He held a curious expression almost as though he was trying to guess Tevanon's age. Then he asked, "How many years are you?"

"Thirteen."

"My god, boy! You're going to be a giant!"

Tevanon smiled.

"Now then, how many men are holding your brother?"

"Two men; one followed me to the ridge and the other is guarding my brother."

"About where did you come down the ridge?"

"Six tents over."

"Look there." Avor pointed to a sloped pathway that led up the ridge and into the forest. "Meet me there in a short while."

"I want to trust you Avor..."

"But we've only just met and why would I help a stranger?"

"Well, yes."

"I will help you free your brother, I swear by Arwaan."

Tevanon's concerns disappeared. If Avor was willing to swear by Arwaan and he failed to comply with his promise, Arwaan would punish him; that is what Tevanon believed. "I shall meet you below the ridge."

# CHAPTER FIVE

Tevanon stood by a large tree atop the ridge that Avor had designated as their meeting place. He could see the campfire between the tents and the same four persons sitting around it. His eyes journeyed farther along the ridge to where he first entered behind the tents; there was only the dark shadows created by the moon's light. Greal may still have been waiting there but in the night, it was impossible to tell.

There was a whisper, "Tevanon."

Tevanon turned and saw nothing. He turned the other way and saw nothing. Then he turned back and Avor was standing before him. He startled slightly. "Are you a mage?"

"More of a scout. Let's go."

They entered the forest and walked until the campfire behind them was non-existent. Avor had obviously traveled through Emplo Forest many times given his familiarity with the trails and in the dark of the night. The path split and they veered to the right where they were met by a bearded man as tall as Tevanon and a woman wielding a bow. Both wore leather armor and stern expressions.

Avor pointed to the man. "This is Gorse." Then he gestured to the woman with the bow. "And that is Wix. They will be assisting us."

"By my estimate," said Wix, "the Crow's Trail will lead us north of our target destination."

"Very well, let's be on our way."

"Hold it," said Gorse, his voice deep and stern. "We don't want Tevanon's captors to recognize him." He reached into his satchel and removed a padded cloth headpiece that looked like a helmet. It was actually the interior of a great helm. "This should conceal you," he said as he handed the cloth helmet to Tevanon.

Tevanon promptly put it on and pulled it low so that it covered the entirety of his forehead.

"Can you handle a weapon?" asked Gorse.

"Yes, sir."

"Take this."

It was a single-handed short sword, not a weapon that Tevanon preferred but one that he could wield as well as anyone. The grip was worn, and the blade was badly scuffed indicating it had seen a good amount of action. These observations made no difference to Tevanon; he was content in having a weapon, any weapon. With a nod, he said, "Thank you, sir."

"I believe everyone should be armed," said Gorse before falling in behind Wix who had already started along the trail.

* * *

Kerd paced in front of Kensic. He kept a tight grip on his dagger and his eyes darted around the forest chasing everything that sounded like anything at all.

"It's takin' too long." He glared at his captive. "Yer brother screwed things up, I just know it!"

"You could have done it yourself," said Kensic.

"Shut yer mouth or I'll cut yer lips off!" He continued to pace. After several passes, he stopped and looked at Kensic again. "Yer brother isn't too smart is he?"

Kensic remained quiet.

"Answer me!"

"You told me to shut my mouth; do I have permission to speak now?"

"When I ask ya a question, ya answer."

"Very well. My brother is not as smart as I am but he is a great warrior."

Kerd chuckled. "Yeah, great at getting' hijacked by robbers." Just then, he was distracted by a rustling sound. "Who's there?"

"Just passing through, friend," said Gorse as he came into view with Avor and Tevanon behind him.

Wix, however, remained hidden.

Kerd was nervous, apparent by the twitch in his dagger wielding hand. "Could ya pass a little faster?"

Gorse eyed him then saw Kensic tied to a nearby tree. "What's going on here?"

"Mind yer business!"

Avor placed a hand on Tevanon's shoulder and they slowly moved left of Gorse. An arrow pierced Kerd's chest. The robber coughed and stumbled to his knees as his dagger fell from his grip. A moment later, he was dead.

Gorse knelt next to the dead man to confirm the kill then he called out with a strange bird-like sound. Suddenly, Wix appeared with bow still in hand. "He's dead?" she asked.

"As always," replied Gorse.

Tevanon removed the cloth helmet from his head and rushed to his brother.

"I see you found some help," said Kensic.

"And it's lucky I did." He cut the ties securing Kensic to the tree. "The Jewel of Detoa is down there and it's being guarded by Detoa's best soldiers."

"They wanted you to steal the Jewel of Detoa?"

"Yes."

Avor stepped up behind Tevanon. "So, this is your brother?"

Tevanon nodded. "This is Kensic."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, young man. I am Avor."

"I thought Avor was going to kill me," said Tevanon, "but instead he offered to help."

"It was my pleasure."

Tevanon touched Kensic's shoulder. "Come and meet Avor's friends."

Gorse and Wix had just tossed Kerd's body into an area of thick shrubbery when Tevanon approached them and introduced his brother. Following the formalities, Tevanon returned the short sword and the padded cloth helmet to Gorse.

"You may want to keep the sword," said Gorse.

"I prefer the longsword."

"Is that so?"

Tevanon hurried to where Coneese and the Vlagen horse were tied to the tree. He removed his father's sword from the sheath and returned to Gorse.

Gorse eyed the lengthy sword skeptical of Tevanon's ability to use it. "Interesting," he said with a questioning smile.

"This was my father's sword. He was a soldier in the Lynsid army."

"And he taught you to swing it?"

"No. He died before I could hold it."

"I see. What of your mother?"

In the dark, it was difficult to see Tevanon's eyes well with tears, but his lack of words was enough to understand his emotions.

"Our mother was killed earlier today," said Kensic.

"By the Vlagens?" asked Avor.

Kensic nodded.

"You have no other family here?"

Kensic shook his head this time. "We're going to live with our Great Uncle Welksley in Turlot."

"Turlot?" blurted Gorse. "By yourselves?" His skepticism was still shining brightly.

"Yes," said Tevanon still a bit choked up.

"Turlot is a long way from here and not everyone will be friendly along the way," said Avor.

"We'll make it."

"If I may speak with my counterparts for a moment."

Tevanon nodded as Avor and his friends stepped far enough away so as the brothers could not hear their whispers.

"Can we trust them?" questioned Kensic.

"I don't know for sure, but I do know that Avor could have easily slain me."

"I just hope they aren't like the two that trapped us."

A crackling sound caught Tevanon's ear, and he instinctively raised his sword. His eyes scanned the darkness for any sign of movement. There was nothing. Then suddenly, there was a loud rustling of leaves and a figure was moving toward him in a hurry.

"You will die!" shouted Greal with dagger in hand.

Tevanon sidestepped as he swung his longsword. The blade caught Greal across the left arm, but the robber was not slowed. He came at Tevanon again, this time yelling, "I will kill you!"

Tevanon darted right. Greal tried to follow but his footwork was sloppy and his guts spilled onto the leafy floor of the forest, the result of Tevanon's precisely placed sword.

Avor and his friends were witness to the event, and it was obvious Gorse was impressed. "Well I'll be...," he mumbled.

"How feel you now?" asked Avor.

"Alright, I concede. The boy is skilled and I'd be pleased to have him along."

Avor nodded then signaled to Tevanon and Kensic. "Come here. We've a proposition for you."

The brothers hurried closer.

"I would like to begin with a formal introduction," said Avor. "I am Avor and this is Gorse and Wix and we are members of Detoa's Elite Guard."

Tevanon's eyes narrowed. "What? I thought you were a thief?"

"More of a master of disguise, espionage specialist, scout extraordinaire."

"You tricked me!" Tevanon's anger was rising.

"Your movements made obvious you were no thief. And so, before I killed you I thought it best to understand what you were doing. As it turns out, you were only attempting thievery out of desperation to save your brother."

"My brother will never let me down," said Kensic hoping his words would calm his brother.

Tevanon half smiled, his anger subdued for the moment.

"I believe what you say is true, Kensic," said Avor, "and Tevanon's skill with a sword was enough to impress even Gorse, and Gorse does not impress easily."

"Avor speaks truth," said Gorse. "Travel with us to Shiriza. There is safety in numbers and I may be able to teach you a few things you've not already learned."

Tevanon looked at his brother.

"I'll get the horses," said Kensic as he darted away.

"It seems we'll be joining you," said Tevanon.

Avor smiled and extended his hand. No sooner had Tevanon gripped the man's hand that Gorse was talking of swordsmanship and asking Tevanon about his past training. Fortunately, the journey to Enwin would take many days, and that would be plenty of time to learn more about each other.

# CHAPTER SIX

The sun was just barely above the horizon, and Detoa's Elite Guard was ready to head out. Avor woke Tevanon. "We're leaving shortly."

Tevanon gestured to his still sleeping brother. "We'll be ready." Then he gave Kensic a nudge and the younger boy stirred awake. Both of them were accustomed to early mornings having grown up on a farm, and so this was no different from any other morning, well, except that they weren't going to harvest potatoes. They did, however, eat a couple of potatoes before mounting their horses and riding up next to Gorse.

"We ride in a strategic formation to protect the jewel," said Gorse. "There are ten of us, two swordsmen up front, behind them the swordsman who carries the jewel, and when we can ride three wide he's flanked by two more swordsmen. The three women, including Wix, are archers and they ride behind the swordsman with the jewel. I ride in the back and Avor scouts ahead so we don't ride into a trap."

"Where shall Kensic and I ride?" asked Tevanon.

"With me."

"Very well."

Soon enough, they were following a horse trodden trail through Emplo Forest, their pace sure and steady. For two days, they traveled through the forest and when they emerged from the shadows of the trees they were at the foot of the Northland Mountains well north of the Northland Mountain Pass that led to Shiriza.

Tevanon and Kensic sat upon their horses slightly back from the group. Gorse sidled up to them. "We'll wait here for Avor. He's scouting for pirates."

"Pirates?" questioned Tevanon.

"Yes, namely the Mountain Pass Pirates."

"I've heard of the Northland Tribes, but never pirates."

"These pirates are a ratty bunch, degenerates who've been cast away from society. Wreaking havoc upon travelers has become their revenge."

Tevanon did not ask another question. His mind was occupied with just how much about the world he did not know existed.

"Are they not part of the Tawn-Tawn Pirates of the Laughley Sea?" asked Kensic.

"They are split from the Tawn-Tawns, but evidence suggests they still maintain contact."

Tevanon eyed his brother. "Where did you learn of the Tawn-Tawn Pirates?"

"From Ocre."

"Ocre was but a farmer, how did he know of pirates?"

"Our Uncle Yelob was a farmer too, but before that he was a soldier. Ocre had once been a carter for a merchant caravan that traveled through all the lands. I used to ask him about his travels."

Tevanon spent little time learning about Ocre or any of the other townspeople. From an early age, his only interest was becoming a soldier, and his Uncle Yelob provided him with all the information and training he needed to become a skilled swordsman that would gain him immediate entry into the military. Quite in contrast, his brother had taken the time to learn about the people around him, and those people had obviously shared with him stories from around the world.

Kensic noticed his brother's disappointed expression. "Cheer up, brother! Had you taken the time to listen to people's stories of the world you would not have had time to practice swinging a sword and may not have impressed Gorse with your skills."

"Your brother is wise beyond his years," said Gorse. "Perhaps you know little of the world, Tevanon, but you will learn as you travel through it, and what you will find is that most men who have had many more years of practice will still fail to match your ability with a longsword."

"That may be true, but my lack of awareness nearly got my brother killed," said Tevanon.

"All men make mistakes. Those who live through them become stronger, more aware, and better prepared. I believe that even if Avor had not helped you, you would have found a way to save your brother."

"I believe that too!" added Kensic.

"Now then," said Gorse. "We have some time before Avor returns, and it is not only the learners who must practice their trade." He dismounted from his horse and drew his sword.

A broad smile crossed Tevanon's face, and he too, climbed down from his horse and raised his sword.

* * *

Later in the day, Avor returned from scouting and with him was a girl of about six years old. He explained that the girl had not said much, but that he found her amidst the dead bodies of what appeared to be a caravan heading for the Northland Mountain Pass. Based on evidence from the site, he believed them to have fallen victim to a pirate attack.

"The site you describe is more than a day's journey from the pass," said Gorse. "Pirates rarely attack anyone before they reach the pass, and typically they dispose of the evidence so as not to deter future travelers from passing through. Are you sure it was pirates?"

"I'm surprised you would question my investigating skills," replied Avor.

Wix cut in. "Perhaps what Gorse meant to ask is, are you sure this attack was that of the Mountain Pass Pirates?"

"Now that is an intelligent question and one that each of you will get the opportunity to answer. We shall ride to the site of the attack."

"Now?" questioned the swordsman who carried the Jewel of Detoa, his name Hedik.

"Yes," replied Avor plainly. "We've plenty of daylight."

"But we'll have to set up camp at the base of the mountains where we will be in the wide open."

"Do I sense fear upon your nape?" questioned Gorse with a roguish smile.

Hedik was offended as was obvious from his expression. "I have carried the Jewel to every nation across this land and never have I been afraid of anything, not the Northland Tribes or the Vlagen Mercenaries, not even the creatures of the Dry Lands do I fear! I should strike you down for even suggesting such a thing!"

Gorse was still smiling.

"Wipe the smile off your face," Avor said to Gorse before his gaze turned to Hedik. "And you, your bravery is not in question—"

"Gorse was doing exactly that!" shouted Hedik.

"He was trying to get under your armor so you would make a fool of yourself in front of everyone."

"It worked," mumbled Gorse. Only Tevanon heard the comment and while he had the urge to chuckle, he did not.

"Now then," said Avor. "We shall ride to the site!"

The Elite Guard of Detoa rode hard and fast and just before sundown, they arrived at the site of the dead travelers. Avor dismounted then lowered the little girl from his horse before approaching the wreckage. Gorse and Tevanon were right behind him, which left Kensic alone to observe the little girl whose family had recently been murdered. She stared at the site, but she shed no tears. Kensic remembered his own tearless reaction to the death of his mother and uncle, and he wondered if this girl wasn't similar to him or if perhaps she had already cried too much. There was only one way to find out. He dismounted Coneese and approached her.

Her eyes were on Avor, Gorse and Tevanon. Her face was dusty and her dirty tunic, more typically worn by boys, was torn across the bottom. She had a peculiar smell about her, dendi oils mixed with sweat mixed with sea salts. It was not a pleasant smell, and Kensic could not remember anyone who smelled so bad. Still, he wanted to talk with her so he held back his desire to gag.

"From where do you come?" asked Kensic.

"I am from beyond the Laughley Sea." Her voice sounded like a six-year-old, but she did not have the innocence of a child.

"Detoa? Or perhaps Crementa?"

"Yes."

Kensic was confused. "Which one? Detoa or Crementa?"

The girl turned away.

"Are you upset about your family?"

There was no reply.

"My mother was killed a few days ago, but I did not cry. Not because I didn't love her, but because my emotions are filled with the logic of life. My brother cried. He has a lot of emotion, and it's good that he does because that's why he is such a great warrior."

The girl's head turned slightly and Kensic thought he saw her smile, but then she yelled as loud as she could. It was a war cry, and suddenly, from beneath the dry hardened surface of the landscape, men began to surface. They came from every direction as though they had risen from their graves, but these were not dead men, they were thieves and henchmen.

Kensic looked around at the mass of men closing in on the Elite Guard of Detoa. As he turned back to the girl, her fist struck him across the face and he toppled to the ground. She leaped on him and unloaded a barrage of punches that clobbered him from torso to head. Kensic put up his best defense, and he did manage to block some blows all the while he wondered how a six-year-old had gotten the better of him. It was almost as if she wasn't really a little girl! Regardless of what she was or what trickery may have been used, Kensic was taking a beating and his brother and the Elite Guard were going to suffer a similar fate at the hand of the girl's criminal allies.

Wix saw the attackers first, and her bow was already drawn. She called out to her companions, "We're under attack!"

"From this side as well!" yelled the archer opposite Wix.

The archers began firing off arrows while Hedik and the four swordsmen drew their weapons and formed a tight defensive circle.

Avor had already surveyed the situation; they were surrounded and had no choice but to fight. A quick glance at Gorse caught the bearded man smiling. "I should've known you'd take pleasure in this challenge."

Gorse drew the short sword from his left hip and the hatchet slung over his back. "I love it when the odds are in their favor!" He looked at Tevanon and gave a nod. The man-sized youth returned the gesture. He was ready to fight.

"These are not the Mountain Pass Pirates," said Avor.

"A new clan of scumbags, eh?" said Gorse.

"So it would seem."

"Little do they know death is upon them." Gorse looked at Tevanon. "Are you familiar with the half circle defense?"

"No! It won't work!" shouted Avor abruptly. "Our archers will be killed if we take up defense. We must pair up and take the battle to them, protect our archers!"

"Very well, Tevanon is with me!"

Avor nodded then turned back toward the swordsmen. "Hedik! Pair up and attack, we must protect our archers!"

Hedik joined up with Avor to front the attack from the east where Wix was holding her position. Her well-placed arrows were dropping men left and right, but still more were surfacing from the earth. Avor counted twenty men, and that was only those attacking from the east. There were men coming from all around them!

"Wix!" shouted Avor. "Fall behind us!"

Wix lowered her bow and maneuvered her horse behind Avor and Hedik. The other two archers fell back as well until the three of them formed a triangle in the center of four pairs of swordsman. From there, they continued their onslaught of arrows while the swordsmen charged the attackers.

"Stay close to me," said Gorse as he started forward to attack the attackers. "If they surround us, we must remain back to back to protect each other."

"I understand," said Tevanon.

Gorse let out a battlecry as he charged the mob of pirates. His hatchet chopped through flesh and his sword left bloody gashes. Beside him, Tevanon leveled men swiftly, his longsword slaying all who came close. The pirates, however, had numbers on their side, and it was only moments before Gorse and Tevanon were completely surrounded and fighting for their lives. They slashed and stabbed and fallen men piled at their feet as the sounds of battle resonated across the hardened landscape.

All of Tevanon's years of training were finally put to the test, and there was no doubt Uncle Yelob knew what he was doing. Tevanon's skills were no match for the undisciplined and untrained brigands. The odds, as daunting as they were, could have been worse and still, Tevanon would have slain every last one of them.

On the eastern front, Avor and Hedik slashed their way through twenty men, and the other two pairs of swordsmen did the same as their archer allies continued to strike down the attackers. There seemed to be no end to the misfit brigands, and had anyone been there to witness the battle, they would have thought the Elite Guard of Detoa stood no chance of surviving. Odds, however, were not the only factor in warfare. The members of the Elite Guard with the addition of Tevanon proved that point overwhelmingly.

As the number of attackers dwindled down to a mere dozen, those remaining made a hasty retreat, obviously realizing they had no chance of surviving given so many of them had already been slain. It was not their fighting skill they were relying on, but rather their overwhelming numbers, and when that was no longer a factor, they took to the more selfish cause of saving oneself.

"Haha!" shouted Gorse. "Baby lambs!"

At first, Tevanon cheered with Gorse then he realized his brother was nowhere in sight.

Gorse recognized Tevanon's troubled expression. "What is it, Tevanon?"

"I don't see Kensic anywhere!"

Gorse scanned the area, the bodies of the ragged attackers scattered all around, but Kensic was not there.

Tevanon looked to where Avor was helping Jeron, one of the Elite Guard's swordsman who'd suffered a severe wound. Blood was running from his leg, but at least he was alive. Next to him, the swordsman Len was dead. Panic overcame Tevanon, he couldn't have let down his brother so early in their journey could he have? Arwaan would not have permitted such a tragedy... but then his god had taken his mother and uncle. _No_ , thought Tevanon, _this can't be happening!_

Farther away, outside the immediate area of battle, he saw Coneese waiting for his rider. Tevanon rushed to the white horse of his uncle and from underneath the large animal's belly, Kensic dropped to the ground.

"What in the name of Arwaan?"

Kensic's face was bruised and scraped from the little girl's punching spree.

"Are you okay?" asked Tevanon as he helped his brother to stand.

"Well, I'm alive."

Gorse approached from behind Tevanon.

"I don't think the little girl Avor found was really a little girl," said Kensic. "She seemed to have a very good understanding for what was about to happen, and her punches were hard and on target."

Gorse considered Kensic's words then he spoke. "Perhaps she had Soraya's Disease. It's rare but I've seen it before."

"What is Soraya's disease?" asked Kensic.

"It's named after Rawlen Mahtar's daughter. He was the rawlen, or king, of Reshar one hundred and fifty years ago. His daughter, Soraya, appeared to be a child for all forty of his years on the throne. Thus, came the term Soraya's Disease."

"Interesting," said Kensic. "I will keep that in mind in the future."

"I'm sorry, brother," said Tevanon regretful that he hadn't been there to protect his brother.

"You really shouldn't be sorry. If you hadn't fought maybe I wouldn't be alive."

"Well said!" blurted Gorse.

"And I'm certainly clever enough to hide, as you probably noticed."

"I did. And what a strange hiding place," said Tevanon.

"I wouldn't say that in front of Coneese if I were you."

"Of course not, where are my manners." Tevanon patted the white horse on the side and smiled. "Good boy."

Avor, Wix and Hedik surveyed the dead brigands in hopes of finding one of them alive so as they could question him. As they meandered through the scattered bodies, they found men from every nation, men of light skin and dark, short of stature and tall, and the weapons they carried were equally assorted. The question, of course, was what brought together this reckless collection of thugs and criminals? What was their purpose?

"Water," a voice grumbled. "Water."

Avor followed the voice to a man lying on his stomach with a trench-like gash spanning the width of his back. This man appeared to be of Irbanian descent, having the light brown skin and dark black hair of that race of people. His beige colored shirt was soaked in blood, his face smeared with sweat and dust, and his hand still wrapped around the grip of his curved short sword. "Water," he said again no louder than before.

"What is your name?" asked Avor as he knelt beside the man and reached for his leather flask.

"Latu, my name is Latu."

"Open your mouth, Latu."

Latu opened his mouth and Avor attempted to pour in some water. As the wounded man lapped at the liquid he was so yearning, he mumbled, "Thank you."

"Who do you report to?"

"A man come through... Dezvil, lookin' fer men... who wasn't afraid to die. He paid up front in silver and said if we join him, there would... be gold, and no end to it... water, please..."

Avor poured more water into Latu's mouth.

"Who was this man?" asked Avor.

"He called himself Akarid."

"The sorcerer?"

"I don't... know... he wore a black... robe... with yellow..." Latu's voice was fading with his life.

"Yes, the sorcerer, but Akarid has been dead for five hundred years."

Latu was dead as well.

Avor closed the dead man's eyes then stood to see Wix and Hedik. They were nearby still searching for survivors. "Anything?" he shouted.

All they had found were dead men, and upon continuing the search, they found only more dead men. The Elite Guard had butchered their opponent leaving behind but one survivor who lived only briefly. Having no other reason to wander the battlefield, Avor and his counterparts rejoined Gorse and the rest of the group.

"I found one survivor," announced Avor. "He said his name was Latu, and I asked him how he came to be part of this band of pirates, to which he replied he'd been recruited by a man in Dezvil. This man, however, wore the robe of a sorcerer and went by the name Akarid."

"Akarid the sorcerer?" questioned Hedik.

"Yes." Avor's brow lifted. "It seems Akarid has returned."

"Impossible! He was killed by Ker!"

Avor smiled. "Yes. King Ker killed Akarid, or so is how history is written."

Kensic interjected, "The history that I read explains that Akarid was sliced in half by Ker, but that Akarid's soul did not enter the underworld. It remained among the living until he regained the power to create a new body. That happened thirty years later and led to the War of Levoo."

"As I recall," said Avor, "a small group of historians believe exactly what Kensic just described; that the War of Levoo was Akarid's revenge on Ker for nearly killing him, but Ker only killed Akarid's physical being not his soul."

"That is ridiculous!" blurred Hedik. "The soul is attached to physical life! It cannot survive without a living vessel!"

"I'm not judging your beliefs, Hedik. I am merely offering an explanation for how Akarid could have returned regardless of whether this is his first or second return. Akarid is a sorcerer of Oxra Magic, an evil kind of magic that is not well understood. Could he have conjured up a new body? I don't know. I only know that the dead pirate Latu said he was recruited by a man named Akarid."

Gorse commented. "I too have heard the less popular belief that the War of Levoo was Akarid's revenge on Ker, and like Hedik I am skeptical of such a tale."

"I don't care how powerful Akarid may have been," said Hedik, "when Ker sliced through him the first time, he was as dead as any man split open by a warrior's greatsword."

"Perhaps the history we have come to know was miswritten," said Kensic. "Maybe Ker did not slice through Akarid."

"It's a good point," said Avor. "History is often laced with mystery."

"To that I agree," said Gorse, "but in the dead returning to life, I do not."

"Regardless of whether Akarid is a living being or nothing more than a corpse, someone is plotting something, and there is much more to it than pirating. We must consider that these men were buried in deep trenches to hide themselves. Trenches take time to dig and even more time to conceal. Why would these men trouble themselves with such a plan?"

"A better question is are they intelligent enough to devise such a plan?" asked Hedik.

"Not likely," replied Gorse.

"They were following the orders of someone who has a plan," said Avor. "But what is the plan, and why were we the target?"

"The jewel," said Tevanon. "They want the jewel."

Avor rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Perhaps."

"If that's true, they'll strike again," said Hedik. "We must hurry to Enwin!"

"Agreed," said Avor. "We must hurry to Enwin!"

# CHAPTER SEVEN

Deep within the haunted caverns of Dezvil, well beyond the jurisdiction of men, there was said to be the sacred place of the sorcerers who ruled the land thousands of years ago. No living person dared journey to this place, not without the protection of a powerful spell cast by a powerful sorcerer. But all of the powerful sorcerers had vanished, either killed or too old to live, and not one of them had yet found the pathway back to the living. Or so was thought, until now.

He wore a heavy black robe wrapped with yellow streaks from the left side and across the lower half of the front. A hood covered his head and shadowed his eyes revealing only his steep nose and stern lips. His chin was clean-shaven and square, and he stood tall and broad with his arms held outward like the wings of an eagle soaring across the sky. In his left hand, he held a stone, a plain gray stone, circular and smooth. In his right hand, he held a sheet of paper, thin transparent paper with symbols written along the edges. He slowly brought his hands together and wrapped the stone with the paper. Then he let it fall to the rocky floor of the cavern.

Smoke swirled upward and an image appeared. It was a castle, yet more of a fortress, built in the midst of an endless valley. Three massive walls surrounded the castle and inside each wall there was a thriving city filled with homes, markets, farms and every service imaginable. Because of its unique design, the Fortress of Ker was also known as Three Cities, and in the event of an attack, Three Cities could sustain its population for months if not years without the worry of starvation or lack of supplies. A siege upon this fortress was difficult, both because of its self-sufficiency and because of the three massive walls defending it. Many armies had tried to conquer Three Cities, but none had been successful during the five hundred years of its existence.

In addition to the daunting walls, there was never a shortage of military presence within Three Cities. Soldiers were ever-present and they marched day and night to keep the peace as well as to provide a constant reminder that the Fortress of Ker was well protected. Atop the giant walls, guards kept eyes on the cities within and on the valley beyond, and archers stood at the ready with razor sharp arrows.

"The Fortress of Ker has never been conquered," said the robed man as if he knew someone was going to enter behind him.

"So it has been for five hundred years," said the second man, his newly oiled leather armor glistening in the candlelight.

"I feel a need for change, Dooma."

Dooma fondled his unkempt beard of black hairs that were intermingled with gray. "As do I," he said with a nod of his head.

"The Fortress of Ker will fall at last and her queen and country with it."

"I come to you with—"

"With news of the Lynsid ambush." The robed man turned to face Dooma and the image of the Fortress of Ker disappeared into smoke. "When will you learn that I see all that is in the world; I need only for you to be my ears and at times, my voice."

"Of course."

"You will acquire the Jewel of Detoa as it passes through Shiriza on the way to Enwin for the Festival of the Jewels. But for now, tell me about your journey to the land of red men."

"They refused my offer."

The robed man's lips tightened. "You disappoint me, Dooma. I had thought you were well respected by the red men from the jungles of Kanbia."

"That was a long time ago, and their old ruler has since been replaced with a younger man who knows nothing of my deeds."

"Your excuses are becoming more frequent and your usefulness less. I will take it upon myself to acquire an army, and when my army is ready to march, you will meet them in the Plains of Elenis."

"No mortal has ever survived the Plains of Elenis."

"I assure you, you will have no trouble traveling through the plains and from there you will invade Turlot as planned."

Dooma bowed his head.

"I have high expectations for you while I'm gone."

"Gone? Where is it you're going, Akarid?"

A smirk crossed the sorcerer's face. "You need not worry about that. When my army arrives, you will join them and take control of Turlot by any means necessary. I care not for the people or their land. Slay them, burn them, it matters none to me so long as you have control. I will not tolerate an uprising."

"Turlot will be ours."

Akarid pulled back his hood revealing his bright green eyes; they sparkled with sinister arrogance. "I'm well aware of that, for if you fail me, you will die and it will be quite painful."

Dooma said nothing. The twitch in his eye was enough for anyone to know he had concerns, even some regret, about his alliance with the sorcerer Akarid. Yet, he knew if all went well, he would once again be a lord or perhaps a king depending on Akarid's mood. And that would be his revenge on the Queen of Levoo; she who removed him from his lordship for the crime of treason; she who had sentenced him to death. Were it not for a few loyal men he would not be alive today. Those men who came to his rescue were his lord's knights, twenty of them, and they fled with him to the southern border of Alva where they remained in hiding for near a decade. Then Akarid came to him, and he learned they both sought revenge on Levoo. Dooma was skeptical of forming an alliance with a sorcerer, especially one as powerful as Akarid, but his desire to destroy Levoo combined with his desire to once again be in a position of power was much greater than his skepticism and so he accepted Akarid's offer.

"For now," said Akarid, "travel to Reshar and obtain the famed Diamond of the West. Then make your way to Shiriza and acquire the Jewel of Detoa. I will need both of them if I am to destroy Levoo and conquer the world."

"As you command." The former lord backed away then hurried into the tunnel from which he had come.

Akarid was once again alone in the dimly lit cavern. He sat down at a small wooden table and reached for a sheet of thin, almost transparent, paper. He wrote symbols along the edges, and when he was done, he lifted the paper with his left hand and picked up a stone with his right. He stood and performed a routine similar to the one that created a view of the Fortress of Ker. Instead of smoke, there were sparks of light that snapped loudly in the confined space. An image was born, an image of a partially decomposed human face, parts of his skull visible, his left eye a nest of maggots. "Akarid," he said rather surprised.

"General Boveeriun," replied Akarid, his lips forming a smug smile.

The general's voice was scratchy, yet forceful. "How is it that you have risen from eternal sleep?"

"I think you'll find that I'm full of surprises."

"Yes, and Skelor would agree. No doubt you betrayed him again to return to the living."

"Have you some alliance with Skelor?"

"Not for two thousand years." General Boveeriun smiled through decayed lips, his rotten teeth as frightening as the rest of his face. "Not since he cursed me and my men with eternal life in the in-between."

"And how many men was that?"

"Five thousand."

"That ought to do it."

"What is it that needs doing, Akarid?"

"I command you and your five thousand men to march in alliance with Dooma, the one time lord of Mewtow, on his quest to occupy Turlot."

General Boveeriun's laughter was loud and hideous like a dying demon from the underworld. When it stopped, his good eye glared at Akarid. "You might have the power to summon me, but you haven't the power to command me!"

"Don't I though?" Akarid reached out with both hands and the two stones he'd used earlier floated upward, one to each palm. He gently rubbed them together as he whispered in an ancient language. "Soothenon khol'l yooférone benig-ney, soothenon ahl'l hoofaarah conig-ney..."

Words flowed from his lips easily, smoothly as if he'd spoken them thousands of times before. In truth, he'd never spoken these words. For these were the words required to command the Army of Pundoe led by General Boveeriun. Only the sorcerer Skelor had ever commanded Boveeriun, and it was thought the magic required to unleash the Army of Pundoe died with Skelor. True this was until the second time Akarid was killed. It happened during the War of Levoo, the war that was supposed to be his revenge on King Ker, his revenge on a king who betrayed and then slay him. But his revenge was not to be. Ker knew that a steel blade could not take the life of a powerful sorcerer such as Akarid, and so he allied with a sorcerer, albeit a much less powerful sorcerer than Akarid, but one who was clever enough to strip away Akarid's physical presence and trap his soul in the in-between. While stuck in the in-between, Akarid fooled one of the gods' guardsmen into revealing the secret of traveling between spirit realms. That is how he found Skelor in the realm of the dead.

Skelor was still weak from Akarid's merciless assault one thousand years earlier, and upon seeing his greatest rival, he was struck with fear even despite that he was already dead. His fear, however, was for good reason; Akarid still possessed great power; power that was not permitted in the realm of the dead. But Akarid 's soul was not supposed to be in the realm of the dead. Only through trickery had he entered and for the sole purpose of claiming all of Skelor's lost knowledge. He overwhelmed Skelor with his power and when it was over, Skelor's soul was a void of nothingness that was left to drift in the canyon of beyond-dead. Akarid had devastated his old rival for the final time, and in doing so, had claimed all of Skelor's knowledge to become the most powerful sorcerer of them all.

"Soothenon bhak'l neférone jenig-ney, soothenon drhl'l fefaarah wonig-ney..."

As Akarid's voice grew louder, the cavern began to shake. It shook until the walls crumbled and the ceiling collapsed. Akarid was not dead, though, and he continued to speak the words until there were no more to speak. "Soothenon lak'l veféroone lenig-ney, soothenon uhl'l pefaarah aonig-ney." Amidst the crumbled stone, the image of General Boveeriun was still there.

The partially decomposed leader of the Army of Pundoe stood at attention, his good eye surprised by this turn of events. There was nothing he could do; Akarid had control of him.

"I am yours to command, Akarid."

Akarid's body was buried under a tomb of rocks, and his spirit was weakened but very much alive. He spoke and with great confidence. "Of course you are, and you will join the former lord of Mewtow, Dooma, on a mission to occupy Turlot. Once this task is complete you will prepare your army for an assault on the Fortress of Ker."

"It will be done," replied General Boveeriun and then his image faded from view.

Akarid had accomplished what only Skelor was capable of, and while it was gratifying to the abundantly arrogant sorcerer, it was also disheartening that it had trapped him in the in-between; the place where he had power but not enough to wreak havoc on the living. Such an outcome would require many days or even months to recover from, and even then, he would not be fully healed. This did not please Akarid. He had intended to occupy Turlot and destroy Levoo in only a few days, but now his plot to conquer the world would have to wait, and he would have to rely on the Army of Pundoe much more than he had hoped.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

For hundreds of years, the Northland Mountain Pass was patrolled by Lynsid's army and maintained by the king's corps of engineers. That was when Lynsid was a strong nation with a strong king. Nearly ten years ago Lynsid abandoned the pass to fight wars on every front. In that time, the once well-maintained roadway through the Northland Mountains deteriorated into a traveler's worst nightmare riddled with hazards and patrolled by pirates.

The Elite Guard of Detoa had been on the pass for barely half a day, and twice already, they were forced to dismount from their horses. Once to help a family dislodge their wagon from one of the many deep potholes and a second time to navigate a narrow washed out area of the trail. As they came to the bottom of a steep slope along the edge of a cliff, Avor brought his horse to a stop and looked back at his companions. Gorse was right behind him along with Kensic and Tevanon. Hedik and the remaining three swordsmen, one of whom was badly wounded, were farther behind, and the archers were behind them riding single file, Wix at the rear.

"I do not recall the pass being so rugged," said Avor.

"It was not," replied Gorse. "But it's been four years since we traveled this road."

"Yes, and sadly it reflects the degradation of Lynsid."

Tevanon lowered his head in shame.

"He meant no disrespect, Tevanon," said Gorse.

"I know," said Tevanon, sorrow in his tone. "All I ever wanted was to fight for Lynsid as my father did."

"Whatever nation you fight for, your father will be proud."

"There is truth in that," added Avor.

Tevanon half smiled as Hedik and the rest of the Elite Guard came up behind them.

Hedik said, "Given the condition of this road and Jeron's wounds, it will take us twice as long to travel this pass."

"It makes no matter," said Avor. "We might be days late to the festival, but we will be there."

Hedik rode closer to Avor and whispered, "At such a slow pace, I fear that Jeron will die before we get to Enwin, but I also fear that travelling any faster will be too hard on him and he will still die."

Avor nodded. "When we clear the pass we'll split up. Jeron and an escort will go south to Irdon; the rest will take the jewel to Enwin."

"Outside Enwin is where we must be at full strength." Hedik was no longer whispering. "We've already lost one man; to send another with Jeron will put us three down. Do you not recall the band of brigands that killed four of us not three years ago?"

"I remember well enough... my cousin was one of the dead."

"If you want to join him then go ahead with this plan."

"I will not let Jeron die because you fear a few lowly brigands!"

"A few I do not fear," said Hedik. "Thirty brigands trained to use a sword concerns me."

"If I may speak," interjected Kensic.

Avor looked at the boy through narrowed eyes. "This is not the time, Kensic."

"I quite disagree, and so I will speak without permission, although I do wish to apologize in advance of my rudeness."

Avor's face lightened. The boy made him smile.

"Tevanon and I can take Jeron to Irdon while the rest of you continue to Enwin with the jewel."

Hedik laughed loudly, his mood completely altered. "It's brilliant!"

"The boy is no doubt a problem solver," said Avor. "Alright then, it's settled. When we clear the pass, Kensic and Tevanon will travel with Jeron to Irdon where he can get proper medical attention."

The journey across the mountain pass was slow and arduous. Where the trail was not deathly steep, it was pitted and uneven, and where it was not frighteningly narrow, it was overgrown with thick shrubbery that had to be chopped away with swords and axes. A typical two-day journey turned into five tiresome days, but finally they reached the end of the pass, which was marked by a hilltop clearing with a panoramic view across a valley of sparse trees. They were standing on the eastern edge of the nation of Shiriza, a semi-desert region scattered with sagebrush and yellow oak trees. Three days to the west was Enwin, the capital of Shiriza and the location of the current year's Festival of the Jewels. A half day to the south was Irdon, a small city at the base of the mountains known mostly as a hunter's trading post. Nonetheless, Irdon would have a doctor to heal Jeron.

Avor dismounted from his horse and approached Jeron. The swordsman's left leg had been tightly wrapped with cottons and leathers in an attempt to stop the bleeding from a deep gash in his thigh. While this strategy was a satisfactory solution, it did not completely stop the flow of blood and Jeron's condition was weakening with every day that passed. How long he could survive was unknown to any of them, but no one was going to pull the wrap off his leg to check the wound. If he bled out any faster he would be dead that much quicker.

"How feel you, Jeron?" asked Avor.

"Sickly, to be honest."

"Irdon is a mere half day ride, maybe less at a grueling pace."

_Or maybe more at a dying man's pace_ , thought Tevanon before he said, "We will let Jeron set the pace."

"Well then," said Avor looking at Tevanon upon his horse. "This is goodbye for now."

Tevanon quickly dismounted and shook Avor's hand. "I will make sure Jeron gets to Irdon safely."

"I know that you will, Tevanon. You are a young man with more honor than most old men. I look forward to the day our paths cross again."

Gorse placed his hand on Tevanon's shoulder. "Your uncle taught you well."

"As have you, Gorse. I will never forget you." Tevanon shook his hand and Gorse pulled him closer for a hug.

Gorse then looked up at Kensic where he sat upon the white horse Coneese. "Small is merely a trick of the eyes, and besides, I suspect you're going to do big things."

"I will certainly try."

When the farewells were done, the brothers started south to Irdon with Jeron, the wounded swordsman. Jeron led the way at an aggressive pace, much faster than both Tevanon and Kensic thought possible for a man so badly injured. They rode through sunset then came to a stop near a cluster of scraggly misshapen trees.

"We should be better than halfway," said Jeron.

"Can you go on? Or shall we camp here tonight?" asked Tevanon.

"I fear if we camp I may not make it through the night."

A crackling of leaves disrupted them, and then there was a voice. "It makes no difference whether you ride or not, death will claim you."

Tevanon drew his sword at the man's first word. He could see the vague outline of a person sitting against one of the twisted trees. He didn't appear threatening, but Tevanon was taught to error on the side of caution.

"Put your weapon away. I'm too old to be a threat. Not even the most docile creatures fear me anymore."

"Perhaps so, but I will not become a victim of your trickery."

"Very well, wield your sword." The man stood relying heavily on the tree for support. He was hunched over, his left arm hanging lower than the right, and his right foot facing almost backwards. The twisted tree he stood under appeared more normal than he did especially when he started to walk, or rather shuffle. His movements were awkward, almost non-human on account of having to overcome several abnormal physical traits. Still, he slowly moved closer to Tevanon until he was within arm's reach of the man-sized youth's big brown horse.

"What is your name?" asked Tevanon still gripping his sword ready for battle.

"What is in a name but what a person is known for?"

"Some names are known for nothing," said Kensic.

"Ah, but you are incorrect," said the man waving his hand in small circles. "Every name is known for something to someone in the world, even the most unknown among us."

"I suppose that is true, but it is a less common point of view."

"Indeed."

"My name is Kensic, but were I asked if it would ever be known like the name King Ker, I would tell you no. However, I _would_ tell you to remember my brother's name."

"Yes, yes... Tevanon will be a name long remembered."

"How do you know my name?" asked Tevanon curious.

"The gods, they talk of you," said the man with a slanted smile. "And I speak with the gods."

"Who are you?" Tevanon's question was harsh as he was tiring of the old man's strange commentary.

"He is the mystic Ohvee," said Jeron. "More commonly known as the Madman Prophet."

"Really?" blurted Kensic. "The Madman Prophet predicted the fall of Levoo... nine times and all of them wrong, isn't that right?"

"Just because I can speak with the gods doesn't mean they tell me the truth," said Ohvee.

"No man can speak with the gods," said Jeron sharply.

"Says the man who has sent countless prayers for his life."

Jeron's lips tightened. He _had_ been praying ever since his leg was sliced open, but how could Ohvee have known that? Perhaps the Madman Prophet _could_ speak with the gods or perhaps it was an observational guess. After all, Jeron's leg was wrapped in bloody rags and didn't every wounded man pray for his life? Then again, in the darkness it was difficult to see the outline of a man let alone the condition of his leg. Whatever the case, Ohvee had a natural talent for being irritating and Jeron had had enough. "We are done talking with you mystic! We must ride for Irdon!"

"True as the sun sets," said Tevanon.

"Of course, of course," said Ohvee as he shuffled out of the way. "Duty before all else, Sir Tevanon."

Tevanon eyed him curiously as he lowered his sword. To be called "Sir Tevanon" meant that he was a knight, but he was not. In fact, Lynsid did not have knights, just soldiers. The only nation east of the Yallan Ocean that followed the practice of knighthood was Levoo, and Tevanon had not once considered joining that nation's military. "I am not a knight," he said plainly.

"You will be."

Skepticism was clear on Tevanon's face. "We've wasted enough time here. On your lead, Jeron."

Jeron set his horse in motion and Tevanon followed close behind. Kensic, however, paused long enough to hear a few more words from Ohvee.

"Be watchful of your brother, Kensic. He is brave and he will never let you down, but all brave men are at times too bold and without knowing, they unintentionally let down those around them. Be watchful of your brother. He needs you as much as you need him."

"I will not rely upon your words, but they are wise, and I will consider them on our journey."

"Yes, your journey to Turlot."

"You are an interesting man, Ohvee. I hope to see you again." Kensic started after his brother and was well out of earshot when Ohvee smiled and said, "Only by the gods' will."

It was near midnight when they reached Irdon, a small settlement at the foot of the Northland Mountains. It was much smaller than Tevanon expected, and completely unguarded. Irdon looked more like a trading post that had been haphazardly built overnight. The structures along the main road were built of wood with slightly pitched roofs and narrow doors not much larger than the door to Uncle Yelob's hut. A torch burned at the front of each establishment and signs were hung to identify the various services. Beyond the center of town, there were other structures, but the nighttime made them difficult to see.

Jeron slowed his horse until Tevanon was next to him. "The doctor we seek is just ahead." His breaths were heavy and his eyes lazy.

"Are you okay?" asked Tevanon.

"My son... celebrated his fifth year... before I left Detoa on this tour. He's a good boy... and I think he'll be a fine man when he's grown."

"Like his father."

Jeron half smiled then fell from his horse.

"For the blessing of Arwaan," mumbled Tevanon as he hopped off his horse to tend to his fallen companion. He checked Jeron for breath then looked to his brother. "Kensic! Get the doctor while I help Jeron!"

Kensic prompted his white horse to a trot, and fifty paces ahead he pulled the reigns under a wooden sign that read "Doctor" in black ink. The small boy slid off the large animal and stumbled as his feet slapped the ground. He quickly regained his step and ran to the doctor's clinic where he rapped on the door. Then he waited, and he waited and before the door opened, Tevanon was behind him with Jeron slung over his shoulder.

"Knock again, Kensic," said Tevanon getting impatient. "We haven't time to waste!"

Just as Kensic was going to knock again, the door opened and standing before them was a man with skin as dark as night. He was slender with a square jaw and a sharp nose, his protruding brow low above his eyes. Long black dreadlocks hung off his head and fell below his golden yellow v-neck tunic that revealed the hair of his chest. He was not quite so tall as Tevanon, yet his appearance was commanding even as he stood barefooted and unarmed.

The brothers stared at him as they would stare at something they'd never seen before. In fact, they had never seen a dark skinned person before. They knew of the dark skinned people and that they originally came from Jestanvol, but they were an uncommon sight in Lynsid.

"Do you have something to say, boy?" said the man. "Or do you plan to stare at me until I shut the door?"

Tevanon's impatience turned angry. "Do not speak to my brother like that! We are in need of a doctor and your sign reads _Doctor_!"

"Mind your manners or I'll be just as content in turning you away!"

"No doctor would turn away a dying man!"

Kensic turned and shouted, "Tevanon! Stop!"

Tevanon growled through his clenched teeth. Anger had overcome him yet again.

"I will handle this," said Kensic turning back to the dark skinned man. "I apologize for my brother. My name is Kensic, my brother's is Tevanon, and we have been riding since early in the morning. You see, our travel companion was injured in a skirmish days ago. He needs a doctor. Can you help us?"

The man's expression softened. "A skirmish of what kind?"

"We were attacked by pirates at the Northland Mountain Pass."

The man eyed Jeron who was hung over Tevanon's shoulder. He saw the bloody wraps around Jeron's leg and the stillness of his body. "You are from Lynsid then?"

"Yes."

"No wonder I caught you staring."

"We meant no disrespect," Tevanon blurted. "It's just that we have only heard of the dark skinned people, but never actually seen them."

The man smiled. "Yes, people like me are few in Lynsid, a truth that is in direct contrast to Shiriza."

"We have never traveled outside our home nation," said Kensic. "And we are seeing many things for the first time."

"How old are you boys?" asked the man, but then he continued to speak leaving the brothers no time to answer. "Never mind that now, my name is Tanwoe and I am a doctor. Bring your friend inside; he appears to be dying in front of us."

Jeron was set down on a cot and his leg was lifted into a rope sling that was secured to the ceiling. Tanwoe slowly unwrapped the wound until he found the deep gash that stretched from the top of Jeron's thigh down to his knee. Tevanon stared at the gruesome injury and his face twisted as though he could feel the pain. Kensic on the other hand expressed no emotion at all.

"This man has lost too much blood," said Tanwoe. "How long has he been without care?"

"Four or five days," said Tevanon.

"It has been too long. How he survived more than a day is beyond my expertise. He will die for certain."

Tevanon's anger spurred again. "He can't die!"

"I assure you he can, and he will." Tanwoe spoke matter-of-factly with little sympathy.

"Doctor Tanwoe," said Kensic. "Please do all that you can to help him."

The doctor glanced at Kensic. "I can relieve some of the pain, although at this point I suspect he has little feeling left."

Jeron's eyes were barely open, but he heard the doctor's words. He reached out with a closed fist and touched Tevanon's hand. "Make sure my son gets this." His voice was a whisper.

Tevanon took the object. It was a black twine necklace and dangling from it was a four-inch claw the color of blood.

"Please," said Jeron, his eyelids fluttering to stay open.

"That is the claw of a Doke lizard," said Tanwoe. "They are native to the Dry Lands and grow into giant beasts five times the size of men. Hard to kill they are."

"Just like Jeron," said Tevanon as he looked at the swordsman of the Elite Guard of Detoa. "How long until he's gone?"

"By morning."

"Very well, my brother and I will return before sunrise."

"Stay with your friend," said Tanwoe. "I have plenty of cots so long as you don't mind a room filled with sick people."

Both Tevanon and Kensic were so focused on Jeron they hadn't noticed there were other people in the clinic, most of them dark skinned men scattered amongst the thirty or so beds. Near all of them were asleep, but a few were up and listening to the diagnosis of the newest patient. One man lowered his head when Tevanon's stern glare met his eyes.

"Can you sleep here?" Tevanon asked his brother.

"We must sleep here, for Jeron," replied Kensic his emotionless expression unchanged.

Tevanon turned his gaze to Tanwoe. "We will stay."

Then Kensic added, "Thank you for offering shelter."

Tanwoe nodded as he removed Jeron's leg from the rope sling then covered the wound with yellow piler moss. When he was done, he stood and looked at the brothers. "Follow me."

Kensic and Tevanon followed the doctor to the back of the clinic and through a door-less entry that led to a walled room with no ceiling. Stars twinkled above them. In the farthest corner of the room, there was a fire pit over which hung a pot secured to a wood tripod held together with leather straps. On a nearby table various ingredients were spread about; piler moss, bellum fir bark, yellow oak leaves, brecker tree leaves, and plenty of others. Tanwoe approached the fire pit and unhooked the cooking pot from the wood tripod. He set it on the dirt floor next to the table and began dropping ingredients into it.

"How old are you boys?" asked Tanwoe continuing the conversation he started before treating Jeron.

"I am thirteen and Kensic is nine," replied Tevanon.

"And you're from Lynsid?"

"Yes."

"How is it you came to be in Shiriza?"

"Lynsid is no more," said Tevanon with a frown. "It belongs to the Vlagens now."

"The men from the desert?"

"Yes. The invasion began ten or so days ago. I expect the Vlagens have seized the king's castle in Barone by now."

"I've heard nothing, but I know that nations rise and fall like the waves of the Yallan Ocean."

"You're from Jestanvol, am I right?" asked Kensic.

"What know you of Jestanvol, young one?"

"I know that King Enwin led one of the most successful invasions in the history of men."

"I hadn't considered they teach such things in Lynsid."

Tevanon's scowl returned. "Lynsid may have been filled with fair-skinned people, but the schools still taught the history of other people in the world."

"Many nations do not." Tanwoe chuckled as he filled the cooking pot with water then hung it over the fire. "But since you seem to have an interest in history, I'll tell the story of mine."

Tanwoe dropped a long stick into the cooking pot and began to stir. "I was born in Shiriza, in a town called Tepin near the southwest border. My mother and father were also born in Shiriza, as were their parents. In fact, I'm the seventh generation of my family born right here in Shiriza, fourth generation doctor." He continued to stir the ingredients of the pot. "My mother told me stories of our ancestor Bokno who marched with King Enwin."

"He marched with King Enwin?" said Kensic, his interest more heightened than before.

"He marched across the Dry Lands with forty thousand men led by King Enwin. For five months, they marched through the most unforgiving land east of the Yallan Ocean. No water flows through the Dry Lands where the sun is scorching hot and where Doke Lizards make their home. The journey was nothing short of impossible."

"How did they survive?" asked Kensic. "My teacher said the dark skinned men didn't have to sleep or eat, but that seems made up."

"They both slept and ate, and they also prayed to Craneen, god of the living. History suggests their prayers were answered, because King Enwin and his army made it to Niman where they were met by the Five-Sided Army."

Tevanon all of sudden took an interest. Anything military or combat related caught his ear. "What is the Five-Sided Army?" he asked.

Tanwoe removed the cooking pot from the fire and poured some of the stew-like substance into a bowl. He then led the way back to Jeron as he continued to talk. "The Five-Sided Army was a joint military effort created by five nations, Niman, Shiriza, Dezvil, Reshar, and Alva. Thousands of years ago, they were one nation called Irbania, but after numerous civil wars they were broken into five nations and wars raged between them. Eventually, however, they settled their differences and the five nations of Niman, Shiriza, Dezvil, Reshar and Alva became great allies almost as though they were still just one nation called Irbania. Together they formed the Five-Sided Army and for many centuries they refused to trade with people who were not Irbanian. They thought themselves of a higher order, more civilized than other cultures. Truly, they were just elitist and intolerant." Tanwoe sat down beside where Jeron was lying. He gestured to Tevanon. "Sit your friend upright."

Tevanon wrapped one arm around Jeron so that his head was resting against his shoulder. At the same time, Tanwoe scooped up some stew into a wooden spoon. He then attempted to feed Jeron, but the wounded man refused.

"He is beyond the need for pain relief," said Tanwoe. "Let him sleep."

Tevanon carefully lowered Jeron while Tanwoe set the bowl of stew next to the bed. The doctor then stood and made his way toward a small room at the front of the clinic. He signaled the brothers to follow and when they were inside he said, "Sit." Then he moved to the back of the dimly lit space.

Kensic and Tevanon sat on wooden stools in what was obviously Tanwoe's living quarters. The doctor stretched himself across a narrow bed beside which two candles burned atop a small dresser. Above the bed, a flag was strung across the wall. It was the flag of Shiriza, yellow with a red triangle in the center. The room was otherwise undecorated.

"Now, where was I?" said Tanwoe.

"Not trading with anyone," blurted Kensic.

"Of course. And not only did the former nations of Irbania not trade with anyone, but they also kept slaves. What arrogance! Not even the mighty empire of Levoo allowed slavery! Even worse, it was common knowledge that slavers abducted innocents from other nations and sold them at the Reshar slave market. Yet no one was willing to make a stand against the massive Five-Sided Army.

"This was disappointing to King Enwin, but still, for a decade he tried to negotiate trade routes that would allow ships into the Yallan Ocean ports of Reshar and Alva. They would have none of it, and King Enwin grew tired of failed negotiations. He had all but given up when he learned that an entire village in southwest Jestanvol had fallen victim to slavers from Alva. All but a single boy, about your age Kensic, were taken and sold into slavery. King Enwin was furious! He was tired of the self-proclaimed superiority of the nations that had once been Irbania, and so, he threatened to make war if they refused to end slavery, and if they refused to allow traders from other nations. The nations of the Five-Sided Army laughed in his face. They knew the only reasonable route northward from Jestanvol was by ship on the Yallan Ocean, but Jestanvol was a nation surrounded by land and had no ports and no ships. And so, they believed King Enwin to be a fool. Even more so when he announced that he would march his army across the Dry Lands. No army had ever survived the long and arduous journey across the Dry Lands. It was a death sentence."

"Then King Enwin attacked the Five-Sided Army, right?" said Kensic.

"King Enwin did nothing for seven years. He let the nations that were once Irbania believe they were right, that there was not a chance King Enwin would march across the Dry Lands. Then after the seventh year, he set out to destroy the Five-Sided Army, and even though his army of forty thousand was outnumbered three to one, he succeeded in defeating them."

"That's why the dark skinned people live here now," said Kensic.

"Half the people of Shiriza and Niman have roots in Jestanvol, and both of those nations have been ruled by a dark skinned king for two hundred years."

"What about the other nations, Reshar, Alva and Dezvil?" asked Tevanon. "What happened to them?"

"King Enwin was merciful, and so long as they abolished slavery and allowed trade with all the nations of the land, he permitted them to remain."

"He didn't invade them?"

"He did not, and those nations are still ruled by Irbanian kings, however, during the past two centuries their populations have become a mix of people from all the world."

An angry sadness flashed on Tevanon's face and his head lowered. "I wish I had the chance to serve Lynsid when it was a powerful empire."

"You will find your place, all of us do."

Tevanon balled a fist and smashed it into his open palm. He didn't want to find a place. He wanted to be back in Lynsid, back where he could serve the same army as his father. His wishful thoughts were distracted when Tanwoe said, "Tell me, Tevanon, that sword strapped to your back, do you wield it well?"

Kensic interjected. "My brother is a warrior. He does not always mind his manners, and his temper complicates many things, but our uncle who trained us, believed he would grow to become one of the best swordsman in all the lands!"

"And what about you, young man? Are you a swordsman too?"

"I have been trained, but it is not something I excel in."

"Kensic has an engineer's mind," said Tevanon.

"Civilizations need all kinds of people for their success." Tanwoe's eyes were heavy and his head rolled slowly to the side. He caught himself from sleep and asked, "Where is it you boys intend to go?"

"Turlot," replied Tevanon. "It is where our Great Uncle Welksley lives."

Tanwoe was asleep.

Tevanon leaned toward his brother. "We should do the same."

# CHAPTER NINE

The sun had barely shown itself above the horizon when Tevanon was awakened by a hand on his shoulder. Tanwoe stood before him, now wearing a beige tunic.

"Your friend is gone."

Tevanon blinked his eyes rapidly then threw off his blanket. His sword was next to him on the bed.

"Like a warrior nomad, sleeping with your sword," said Tanwoe.

"I told you he was a warrior," blurted Kensic from the next bed.

"It's true that you did."

Tevanon secured his sword across his back. "What does a burial cost?"

"Five gold coins will buy you a hole in the ground and a wood marker."

"Jeron deserves better," said Tevanon with a frown. "How much for a stone grave marker?"

"Twenty or thirty gold, perhaps."

"I will sell my horse."

"You'll find the horse dealer behind the main road to the west," said Tanwoe. "His name is Heetah, a dark skinned man older than dirt itself. He's rough around the edges and greedy to boot. Do not expect a deal or sympathy."

"Very well."

"I'll have Jeron's body carted to Walloh the gravedigger, and I'll include a note stating that you and your brother intend to purchase a grave."

Tevanon tied Jeron's necklace around his neck, the blood red claw of the Doke lizard bold against his fair skin. "You've been very kind, Tanwoe. I thank you, and I wish you well."

"As do I," said Kensic.

Tanwoe gave a nod. "I enjoyed your company, Kensic and Tevanon, although the circumstances were not ideal. Travel the roads of Shiriza with caution, bandits lurk in even the most unlikely of places."

"Very well. Goodbye," said Tevanon as he exited the doctor's clinic, Kensic close behind him.

Heetah was exactly as Tanwoe had described. He was well beyond his eightieth year, and he was of no mind to offer a deal on account of a man having died. Tevanon knew the horse he'd taken from the slain Vlagen sergeant was worth well more than fifty gold, just the saddle was worth as much! Heetah adamantly refused to pay more suggesting he would have a difficult time selling the Verosion Desert Horse in Shiriza. After haggling for too long, the old man and the man-sized youth agreed on seventy-five gold coins.

"Half what we should have gotten!" said Tevanon enraged.

"But enough," added Kensic.

The brothers then set out for the Irdon Cemetery located at the end of the main road. It was marked with a tall stone pillar, but even without the marker, the cemetery was easy to find. Large mausoleums etched by a master of stonework formed rows of what looked like small huts for living within, and sometimes a hapless beggar was found taking up residence. Beyond the mausoleums were rows of headstones that appeared to spread for eternity. Irdon seemed too small a town to have such a large and well laid out cemetery, but then it was in the path of travelers and hunters and so it was a place where many people died... like Jeron.

Tevanon, now riding Jeron's brawny black horse named Pogomo, saw that there was a dark skinned man sitting at the bottom of the pillar that marked the cemetery. This man was younger than Tanwoe, and his hair was cut close to his head. "How might I help you lads," he said.

Tevanon dismounted as he asked, "Can you direct us to Walloh the gravedigger?"

The man stood and bowed slightly. "At your service."

Walloh had already received the body of Jeron and had been waiting on the brothers. He explained that for five gold coins they could buy a hole atop which a headstone could be mounted for additional coin. Walloh then led the brothers to several holes that had already been dug. It seemed morbid to think that Walloh dug holes in anticipation of someone dying, but then Kensic had said it best, "Death is part of life."

Tevanon looked around at the deep holes, all of them squeezed between existing graves. He didn't like the idea of a warrior such as Jeron being buried around common people. Perhaps his outlook was elitist, but all the same, Jeron had served his country and had died protecting the famed Jewel of Detoa. That was honorable and deserved something better than common.

In the distance, there was a raised area shadowed by a large yellow oak tree. Beneath the tree was a pile of dirt indicating a grave had been dug.

"What about that one?" asked Tevanon, pointing. "Is that grave for sale?"

"Of course," replied Walloh. "But that grave will cost you ten gold."

"Very well. Place Jeron in that grave but do not throw dirt on him until I return."

"Not so trusting, are you?"

"I'm afraid not."

Walloh nodded.

"Can you direct me to a stonemason?"

Walloh told them to see Beoni the stonemason. He too was a dark skinned man, but with gray hair and a thick beard that covered even his neck. For a hefty price of twenty-five gold, he sold the brothers a marble headstone that was rounded at the top. Tevanon requested the words "Jeron of Detoa" be carved on it for which Beoni charged him an additional ten gold. Once the transaction was complete, Beoni told the brothers he would deliver the carved headstone to Walloh by mid-morning. Rather than sit idle, the brothers went to the marketplace.

It was shaped like a horseshoe with merchant huts pressed one against another and on both sides of a pathway that granted access to shoppers. Goods from all around were available, and merchants were too eager to sell them. Tevanon and Kensic did not rush to enter. For a few moments, they did nothing but observe the action. Finally, Tevanon said, "It is nothing like the king's marketplace in Barone."

"But the spirit is the same," said Kensic smiling at his brother.

"I suppose your right. What do you think we need?"

"Waterskins, and if we've enough, I'd like to get a new tunic."

Tevanon eyed his brother's tunic. It had once been white, but now was covered with dirt and grime and splatters of blood and nearly every seam was torn or stretched. "We have thirty gold, and two hundred silver. You shall have your new tunic."

Kensic smiled as he followed his brother into the marketplace where they were bombarded with sales pitch after sales pitch. One merchant made the mistake of touching Tevanon's sword and the man-sized youth grabbed him by the neck and might well have killed him if Kensic didn't intervene. Kensic apologized to the man and the brothers moved on to a shop selling waterskins. They bought two; both made from the bladder of a cow and covered with goatskin. The seller made claims that his waterskins would hold four pints of liquid. Tevanon had his doubts, estimating closer to three.

Next, the brothers came upon a clothing shop that sold garments of every kind and color. Kensic found a wool nobleman's shirt in the color of blue, a pair of goatskin trousers and new leather shoes. Tevanon thought the items a bit too expensive, but just as he was about to say something to his brother, he saw an olive green breastplate of segmented leather armor with copper rivets and buckles.

"It is the armor of Lynsid," said Tevanon.

"Yes, it is," said the merchant, an old Irbanian woman with long white hair. "You like it, yes?" Her thick accent was a clear indication Landorin was not her first language.

"I do, but I haven't the coin for armor of this quality."

"I don't have to get this stuff," said Kensic, his new clothes resting in his arms.

"Even then we couldn't afford it," said Tevanon smiling at his brother.

The old Irbanian woman touched the armor gently with two of her twisted fingers. "You are a warrior, no?"

"I am trained as a warrior, yes."

"My brother is a great warrior!" blurted Kensic as he often did when promoting his brother's skills.

"And _my_ brother is a great thinker," said Tevanon as he placed a hand on Kensic's shoulder.

"Well then," said the Irbanian woman looking at Kensic, "what do you think is a fair price for the goods in your hands plus the armor?"

"I cannot be fair in this case," said Kensic. "Because I know how much coin we have and thus I can only give you a price based on what we can pay which will not likely be a fair price."

"Try me," said the Irbanian woman with a smirk.

Kensic didn't hesitate to answer. He knew they had the equivalent of forty gold coins and he knew they would need some for the rest of their journey. "Twenty-five gold coins."

"Sold!"

Kensic and Tevanon were surprised and confused. The Lynsidian armor alone had a value of sixty or seventy gold, and the clothes for Kensic were likely another five. To get all of the items for a mere twenty-five gold was unlikely, and perhaps impossible, but the old Irbanian woman had agreed to that price.

"You will sell us the armor, the nobleman's shirt, the goatskin trousers and the leather shoes for twenty-five gold?" Tevanon wanted to confirm she'd heard Kensic correctly.

"Yes. A man from Lynsid should have this armor and you are him."

"I didn't tell you I was from Lynsid."

"Only a man from Lynsid would have eyes for this armor."

Tevanon was skeptical. Was there something wrong with the armor? Was it a cheap replica?

"May I examine the armor?" asked Tevanon.

"You may!" replied the Irbanian woman.

Tevanon grabbed the armor from where it hung and set it down on a small table where he unfastened each of the buckles. The interior was much like a leather vest on which the leather plates were securely stitched and then riveted to each other. Tevanon pulled open the left side of the armor and in the lower front corner was the brand of the king of Lynsid. There was no doubt this leather breastplate had been made in Lynsid and issued to a Lynsidian soldier. The thought of wearing it made Tevanon very happy.

Kensic craned his head around his brother. "That is the king's brand."

"This is true Lynsidian armor," said Tevanon.

In a whisper, Kensic said, "You were meant to have this armor."

Tevanon lowered himself to Kensic's level and spoke to his brother with a quiet voice. "But why is she so eager to sell it and for so cheap?"

"You make a good point. I am wondering the same thing, but what could be wrong with true Lynsidian armor? It's not as though it's food that could be poisoned or some other similar trickery."

"I fear there may be some unknown trickery."

"Buy it and we shall learn its trickery together."

Tevanon smiled. "I suppose as long as it doesn't kill me, the risk is small." He stood up and signaled for the attention of the Irbanian merchant. "We will pay you the twenty-five gold."

Outside the marketplace, Tevanon removed his burgundy tunic and slipped on the olive green leather armor. It was made for a slightly taller man and extended below the top of his hide pants farther than was normal. Likewise, the pauldrons were slightly broader then his shoulders, but it was not enough to hinder his movements. He fastened the buckles up the front then turned to Kensic. "How does it fit?"

"As if it were made for you," replied Kensic.

Tevanon rolled his tunic and stuffed it into one of the saddle packs on Pogomo. Then, as he stowed his longsword, Kensic hurriedly put on his new clothes. The nobleman's shirt, which was long-sleeved with a collar, was too big for him and looked more like a tunic that hung well below his new goatskin trousers. His new shoes were also slightly big, but Kensic was used to clothes not fitting quite right because of his small stature.

"I am ready," said Kensic with a nod.

"Well then, shall we attend Jeron's funeral?" asked Tevanon.

"We shall."

Jeron's body was already in the hole under the yellow oak when they returned, and Walloh was sitting against the tree, his eyes closed. The marble headstone was lying on the ground near him along with two shovels. He heard the brothers coming, but didn't open his eyes. "Are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes," said Tevanon. "I hope we didn't delay you too long."

Walloh opened his eyes and stood. "Not at all, Beoni just delivered the headstone." He picked up both shovels and tossed one to Tevanon. "If you don't mind."

"On your lead."

It was immediately apparent why Walloh was called "Walloh the gravedigger". He shoveled dirt with ease as though the gods had designed him especially for this task. Tevanon was hard pressed to keep up and even his greatest effort saw Walloh shoveling three times more dirt. It was a fantastic display of manual labor, and once the grave was filled in, the headstone was moved into place. After that was done, Tevanon stepped back and stood next to his brother. They looked upon the grave that now belonged to "Jeron of Detoa".

Tevanon touched the Doke lizard claw hanging from his neck. "At least his son will have a place to mourn him." He opened the pouch tied to his pants and removed a handful of gold coins. Reaching out to Walloh, he said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," replied Walloh as he counted the coins quickly realizing he'd been paid more than the agreed amount. "You've paid me eleven gold coins; the price is ten, although I hate to admit such a fact."

"I have paid you what you deserve." Tevanon turned to leave, but Walloh stopped him and said, "Perhaps I may assist you in getting wherever it is you're going."

"Enwin, we're going to Enwin."

From deep within his pocketed trousers, Walloh revealed a folded sheet of parchment. It was a map of Shiriza and the surrounding nations, and while it appeared small, it was much larger when unfolded. "I began drawing this map when I was a boy. I am the son of caravanners and so I've traveled through most of the nations surrounding Shiriza." He handed the map to Tevanon. "I have no use for it now. I promised myself when I reached manhood I would find a place to live and that's where I would stay. I have found that place."

Tevanon examined the map holding it low enough so that Kensic could read it as well.

"This will guide us all the way to Turlot," said Kensic.

"Yes it will," said Tevanon as he gave the map to his brother.

The gravedigger and the man-sized boy shook hands.

"Be wise in your travels," said Walloh. "The king's army does not roam the roads outside of cities."

"We will not forget you," said Tevanon with a smile.

# CHAPTER TEN

Dooma and his band of twenty loyal knights had acquired the jewels that Akarid so desperately needed to become all-powerful. That was, of course, assuming the sorcerer returned from wherever he'd gone. Dooma didn't think too much on it. His orders were to get the jewels and he'd done that. Now, he was to meet an army on the Plains of Elenis, a cursed landscape of blackened rock that had one time long ago been the nation of Pundoe. That was before the massive eruption of Mount Orin, before fiery hot magma obliterated an entire civilization. Pundoe, a once thriving nation, became a wasteland of lava rock. Sadly, the spoiling of Pundoe did not end there. One hundred years after the devastating volcanic eruption an evil sorceress named Elenis used the magic of the goddess of the dead to create a spiraling hole of death that cursed the land engulfed in hardened lava. From then forward, nothing from the living world could set foot upon the blackened rock, not without turning to ash. It was then that Pundoe was given a new name, a name that struck fear in the minds of the living. So it was that the "Plains of Elenis" were born.

Dooma knew of the Plains of Elenis and of its power, and he'd known men who never returned from the place. He would never have travelled into what was once the nation of Pundoe, not without assurance from Akarid that he would survive. So, the former lord of Mewtow spurred his horse onto the blackened rock and charged ahead with his loyal knights behind him.

For most of the day they rode, heading toward what was the center of the plains. The scenery was bland but for Mount Orin to the east and the Northland Mountains behind it. Then there was something else. Thousands of men standing in perfect rows. It was an army. Dooma continued toward them, first noticing their shiny black leather armor that was overlay with heavy chainmail. Each of them carried a combination of weapons; swords, shields, and axes among the most common. As he rode closer, the features of the soldiers came into better view; pale skin and narrowed eyes, but then... an inner horror struck him. These soldiers, these supposed men were nothing from the mortal world. Their faces were decayed and grotesque; they were men that had risen from the dead. They were the legendary Army of Pundoe and standing affront them was their leader, General Boveeriun. He wore black leather armor engraved with the dark red flames of the underworld, and a great helm of steel covered his head. His exposed face was partially decomposed, no different from any of the other soldiers, some of the skin completely gone allowing his skull to show through, and his left eye was a nest of maggots. It was hideous and frightening and difficult to look upon without feeling a slight bit nauseous.

Dooma approached the general, uneasiness swelling within. He was not told whom he was meeting on the Plains of Elenis, only that it would be an army to assist in the invasion of Turlot. The army that stood before him needed no introduction. Dooma knew the legend of the Army of Pundoe led by General Boveeriun, and even though this legendary army had not been seen by human eyes in a thousand years, there were plenty of artists' renderings that depicted Boveeriun and his army of dead men. Those renderings were surprisingly accurate, and the reality of the legend sent a quiver up Dooma's spine. Legends were more often nothing but myths of old that were passed down from generation to generation, and Dooma didn't waste time believing in legends. Sorcery, however, was beyond his understanding, and where sorcery flourished, it seemed anything was possible. Akarid had now proven that. General Boveeriun and the Army of Pundoe were as real as Dooma and while they may not have been truly alive, sorcery had made them seem so. Sitting back in his saddle, he pulled the reigns of his stallion to bring the animal to a halt. A quick glance behind him confirmed his loyal knights were at his back, and then he dismounted his horse and approached the legendary general who stood before him.

"Dooma, I presume," said Boveeriun, his voice scratchy, frightening.

"I am Dooma."

"I am General Boveeriun, ordered by Akarid to assist you in the invasion of Turlot and the siege of the Fortress of Ker."

"Yes, well... I am glad to have your help."

Boveeriun recognized Dooma's hesitation. His head raised as though he were jutting his rotting chin. "No need to dispense with pleasantries, Dooma. I am as displeased with being here as you are uncomfortable with being allied with a dead man."

Dooma said nothing.

"I suggest our conversations do not stray from the intent of our mission."

Dooma nodded. "I concur."

"Very well, let us discuss the Turlot campaign."

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

Walloh's map led Kensic and Tevanon along a trail through the vast plains of yellow oak trees that Shiriza was known for. They passed a few travelers and fewer settlements as they approached the Road of the Nobles, a wide, well groomed road that led directly to Enwin.

"Tevanon!" called Kensic.

"Whoa there, Pogomo!" said Tevanon as he brought the black horse of Jeron to a halt. "What is it, Kensic?"

"The Road of the Nobles passes through the Forest of Great Trees," said Kensic pointing to the forest in the distance.

"What do you know of this forest?"

"I know nothing, but Walloh has written 'avoid if possible' next to it."

"We could go around, but it will likely take an extra day to get to Enwin."

Kensic frowned. "That is too long a detour."

"True, it would be out of the way, but do you think the forest is dangerous?"

"Everywhere seems dangerous."

Tevanon smiled. "Then we may as well take the fastest route." He prompted Pogomo to a trot then looked back to make sure his brother was following. Kensic was right behind him as they traveled along the Road of the Nobles heading for the Forest of Great Trees, a place they knew nothing about other than Walloh's warning.

From a distance, the trees of the forest appeared like towering giants with heads above the clouds. Their trunks were broader than most castle towers, and from the limbs grew long spear-like needles that could easily maim or kill an unsuspecting traveler. Calling these monstrosities of nature "Great Trees" was quite a bit of an understatement.

One hundred paces from the forest, Tevanon and Kensic dismounted their horses and stared at the gigantic trees that were an awe-inspiring creation of the gods. They were frightening to look upon and partly because they seemed to be looking back with a hatred for those who traveled the Road of the Nobles.

"These are scary tall trees," said Kensic.

"No one could argue the point," said Tevanon.

Kensic lowered his view to the entry of the forest. It was pitch black like a moonless night. "Do you think there will be any light in there?"

"Only if we light a torch."

"Maybe that's why Walloh said to avoid it."

Tevanon shrugged as a woman darted out from the darkness. Her dress was torn and tattered, her hair unbound and tangled, and mud was splattered across her legs and bare feet. She met eyes with Tevanon. "Help me, please!" Her cry was desperate.

Tevanon drew his longsword and as he did, an arrow struck the woman in her back. The impact thrust her to the ground where she slid on the gravelly dirt path that was the Road of the Nobles. She continued toward the brothers, a slow slithering crawl all that she could muster.

Tevanon didn't rush to help her. He was unwanting to be the next victim of the hidden archer, and he certainly could not put his brother in the midst of such an obvious danger. Still, he had to help this woman, and the only way to do so was to approach her regardless of the risk. "Kensic," he called. "Keep the horses out of range and find cover."

"Out of range could be five hundred paces, and I won't find cover in the midst of these plains."

_Why did he have to be so logical?_ thought Tevanon. "Then just stay behind me," he said as he started toward the fallen woman, his eyes watching the darkness of the forest. There was movement, shadows perhaps. He ignored them and moved closer to the woman. She was having difficulty breathing likely because she was dying. Tevanon knelt next to her and swept the hair from her face.

"They..." she said in a breathless whisper, "killed... ev...ery... one."

"Who killed everyone?"

"The... shad...ows."

She was dead and the arrow in her back melted away like ice in the hot of the desert. Tevanon's eyes widened. He'd never seen such a thing; it had to be some form of magic, likely an evil kind of magic. His eyes lifted and again he stared into the darkness of the forest. There was but one way to find out what the woman meant when she said the shadows killed everyone; he would have to enter the Forest of Great Trees.

Farther away, Kensic held the reins of Pogomo and Coneese as he watched his brother lift the dead woman over his shoulder. He had a hunch that Tevanon intended to bury this woman, and so when his brother was within earshot, he asked, "Are we going to another funeral?"

Tevanon did not answer immediately. He first laid the woman over the backside of Pogomo then he looked at Kensic. "We will bury her with her family."

Kensic gave a nod as his brother hopped up on Pogomo and started toward the forest. Upon entering, it was not immediately dark, but as they traveled farther, darkness slowly overcame them until they were enveloped in pitch-blackness. Behind them, the brightness of the midday sun was a mere flicker of candle light, and the lack of light made the trees appear even taller, their black bark even blacker. The brothers knew only that they had entered a place where night was eternal, a place that Walloh said to avoid, and a place that killed the woman on the back of Pogomo.

"This place has a strange smell," said Kensic.

"Yes, like the fish market in Barone," said Tevanon.

Kensic saw something ahead; it had a slight glow and looked like a wall in the middle of the road. "Do you see that?"

"What?" Just as Tevanon replied, his eyes found the strange obstruction. "Is it a wall?"

"Perhaps."

"Why would it be in the middle of the road?"

The brothers continued toward it, and as they came within fifty paces they quickly realized that what they were seeing was indeed a wall, but not in the traditional sense. It was a wall of human bodies floating a forearm's length above the ground and glowing like a full moon. There were ten bodies, nine in a row then a space wide enough to fit another body and then the tenth.

"I think we found her people," said Tevanon gesturing to the dead woman lying over the back of Pogomo.

"Yes," said Kensic.

The woman's body suddenly lifted from Pogomo and floated toward the wall.

It was a curious sight to see, and both Tevanon and Kensic watched with hesitation.

Her body turned upright like the others then she drifted into the space that was obviously created for her.

"Oxra magic," said Tevanon.

"Oxra magic is evil," muttered Kensic.

"Yes, and the forest is filled with it. That's why Walloh's note says to avoid it." No sooner had Tevanon finished speaking that his green leather armor of Lynsid started to melt off his body. At first, Tevanon didn't notice, didn't feel a thing. Then Kensic blurted, "Your armor is melting!"

The idea of it was ridiculous. Leather armor didn't just melt off a person unless maybe they were on fire, which Tevanon was not.

"I knew there would be trickery surrounding this armor," said Tevanon as he watched his two-day old purchase drip off his body like water.

Just then, a bright light blasted through the darkness blinding the brothers. Kensic tried to keep his eyes open, but it was no use, the light was too sharp. Suddenly, Tevanon screamed a bloodcurdling scream; his skin was burning and blistering as though he was being cooked alive!

Kensic looked at his brother and his expression turned perplexed. There was no logical explanation for what was happening. It had to be the result of evil magic, possibly Oxra magic. Unfortunately, Kensic knew not what to do about it.

_CRACK!_ The shrill sound was deathly to the soul and more than enough to make a horse rear in fear. Pogomo and Coneese bucked their riders and darted away leaving the brothers stranded in the Forest of Great Trees.

Kensic leaned up slightly disoriented from the fall; he spun around frantically looking for his brother. All he found was the blinding light beaming brighter than before, so bright it created a peculiar distortion of the world. "Tevanon!" called Kensic. There was no answer. He crawled forward then changed direction and crawled forward some more. His head turned and from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed his brother lying nearby. The skin of Tevanon's torso looked like cooked carrots smashed together and covered in blood. Kensic reached out for him but he was already gone; so was the bright light and once again, the forest was veiled in total darkness.

Tevanon was floating upward ten times faster than the speed of a horse. Air rushed down his throat, and he could barely breathe. Fortunately, the ride only lasted for a few seconds before he reached an unknown destination. His body was thrust upright, and his feet seemed to touch the ground, yet there was no ground. He was above the tops of the Great Trees and surrounded by a subtle rose-colored glow that was often used to describe the sanctuary of the gods. Tevanon stood there on the absent surface, his body so badly burned he was sure to die.

Someone began to hum a pleasant tune such as those heard at a place of worship. It was soft, and as the tune played on, Tevanon's burned skin bubbled into a mist and evaporated in the air. The pain was horrific, but Tevanon did not scream, for he had already screamed enough and it had done no good. His eyes glazed over as though he was in a trance, and he did not notice the gathering of gray clouds just above him. Wishing for death to rid his pain, he closed his eyes.

Instantly, the pain was gone; his skin was healed. The pleasant hum stopped and a voice spoke. "Tevanon of Lynsid." It was a voice unfamiliar to Tevanon. "Open your eyes Tevanon of Lynsid."

Curious, Tevanon opened his eyes to see the gray clouds swirl to form the face of a man, a bearded man with an almost triangular head. "Your god has abandoned you and will stop at nothing to kill you."

Tevanon did not believe the words spoken. He did not know with whom he was speaking, but he knew that Arwaan would not abandon him and he surely would not try to kill him! He had prayed to Arwaan every day for his entire life, and many of his prayers had been answered. Some had not, but despite this, Tevanon never lost faith. He knew that answered prayers were not to be wasted, the same as unanswered prayers were not a reason to give up faith. Arwaan rewarded those who worked hard, and who lived a righteous life. Tevanon believed himself to be a hard worker and an upstanding person, and he knew in his heart that Arwaan would not abandon him.

"I know that your faith in Arwaan is strong, but he no longer claims you as a disciple. The fact that he tried to burn you alive should be proof of that."

Tevanon remembered being burned and then being healed, but still, he could not place the face floating before him.

"You may address me as your god."

With bold curiosity Tevanon asked, "Which god are you?"

"I am Trystevog, and if you accept me as your god I will help you."

Tevanon had heard the name Trystevog, but he could not remember where. He wished his brother were with him. Kensic had been more attentive in school and spent more time learning about worldly things. Regardless of who was this Trystevog, god or sorcerer, Tevanon was not about to dismiss his faith in the only god he ever prayed to. "My god is Arwaan, and I will serve no other."

The heavenly atmosphere was replaced by darkness and Trystevog's peaceful voice turned deathly. "If you will not serve me, you will die!"

Tevanon jolted; the pain he suffered was suddenly back. At the same time, the invisible ground he'd been standing upon was no more, and he began his descent to the Road of the Nobles. Cool air streamed past him helping to awaken his senses. Unfortunately, the only thing he sensed was that falling from so high a place was certain to kill him. Trystevog had played him like a lute, and then disposed of him like an old mule no longer fit to work. Tevanon thought of the promise to his brother; tears filled his eyes. Even in death, he would never forgive himself for letting down Kensic. In his last remaining seconds, he asked Arwaan to watch over his brother, to make sure he made it safely to Turlot, to make sure he was taken care of by their Great Uncle Welksley.

* * *

Kensic sat amidst the pitch-blackness. He was not afraid of the dark, but he was afraid he'd lost his brother forever. "Tevanon!" he shouted again.

There was no answer.

He wanted the glow from the wall of dead people to return. At least then, he could see if Tevanon was nearby or if he'd gone missing. Kensic feared the worst. It wasn't like his brother to leave him alone without any indication of where he'd gone. As he thought on the topic for another moment, he considered Tevanon's deathly scream. He'd never heard his brother scream like that. It could mean only one thing though; Tevanon had encountered whatever evil lurked in the Forest of Great Trees.

Kensic's hand brushed against something hard. It was his brother's longsword. He felt a dull pain in his heart very similar to the pain he felt when he learned his mother had died. It was not enough to make him cry, but more than enough to make him feel empty. All of the members of his family that he'd known for all of his life were gone. He had only his Great Uncle Welksley, a man he'd never met; a man he may never meet if he couldn't get to Turlot.

The forest lit up with bright light as if a second sun had been born in that very place. Kensic covered his eyes while nearby creatures scampered deeper into the forest. The dead persons that formed the floating wall lay still in the middle of the Road of the Nobles. Then, as suddenly as the forest was lighted, Tevanon's body smashed into the ground.

Kensic did not approach his brother's unmoving body. He only stared at its deadness.

The bright light dimmed creating the dusky glow of a sunset.

A soft grunt was heard. Tevanon was alive! He pushed himself up to his knees, his body no longer burned and blistered.

Kensic wrapped him in a hug. "I thought you were gone."

"So did I."

"What happened?"

"I was lifted above the Great Trees and there I was confronted by Trystevog. Do you know of him?"

"Tystevog is the god of the in-between."

"Of course!"

"Ocre told us of Trystevog and the many evil tricks he uses to take over living souls."

"I could not remember where I'd heard his name, but now I do!"

"You saw Trystevog?"

"Yes, his face appeared to me in the clouds."

Kensic was skeptical. He had heard of gods revealing themselves to mortals, but only in legends from long ago. During present times, it seemed only mystics and gypsies claimed to see and hear the gods, and they were not a reliable bunch. "You are sure that you saw Trystevog?"

"I am truly not sure of anything. I can tell you only that the face in the clouds said he was Trystevog and that he tried to trick me into believing that Arwaan had abandoned me."

"That does sound like something Trystevog would do."

"I told him that I will never lose faith in Arwaan, and he dropped me from the top of the trees! I should be dead!"

"Then your faith in Arwaan saved you?"

"That is what I believe."

Normally, Kensic would have been skeptical of such a story, but his brother was the teller of this tale, and Kensic had never known his brother to be a liar. Tevanon had a volatile temper, and he was not very understanding of others, but he always told the truth.

"I know it may be hard to believe," said Tevanon, "but perhaps the armor I bought in Irdon had something to do with it. The price was so cheap I thought it might be cursed with trickery."

"Actually, I do not find it hard to believe. If someone else were telling me such a story I might be skeptical, but you have always been honest, and since the god Trystevog is known for tricking mortals, it may just be that he tricked you into buying that armor so that he could trap your soul!"

"That may be, although, I wish I could prove that theory."

"There is no need. I watched the armor melt off you and I saw your skin burn and blister for no apparent reason! Now you are completely healed of the burns! I have no doubt that something happened to you above the trees and it is not far reaching to think it may have been Trystevog."

Tevanon looked down at his bare chest. "Arwaan saved me," he said in a whisper. Then he looked at his brother. "Pray with me brother." Kensic nodded and the two of them joined hands as Tevanon led the prayer. "Thank you, Arwaan, for sparing my life, for giving me the opportunity to fulfill my promise to Kensic. If there is ever a time in which a mere mortal can assist you, I offer my life to you. Amen." He looked at Kensic. "Would you like to say something?"

Kensic nodded and began. "Arwaan, as you know I have always been uncertain about whether you really listen to mortals, but now I must believe, and I thank you for saving my brother from the trickster Trystevog. Please look after Tevanon as he looks after me. Amen."

"We must continue to Enwin!"

Kensic smiled slightly. "I suppose it is Arwaan who lit the forest for us."

"Perhaps." Tevanon was looking for something. "Where are the horses?"

"They ran off in the midst of the flickering light and loud noises!"

"We shall walk then, but first we must bury these good people." Tevanon gestured to the line of bodies spread across the road.

"Trystevog took their souls."

"It seems likely."

Kensic thought it a horrible way to die, by the hand of an evil god, and he silently prayed that he never meet such a fate. "Do you think Ohvee was telling the truth?"

"About speaking to the gods?"

"Yes."

"At the time we met Ohvee, I did not believe him," said Tevanon with a smile, "Now, I have changed my mind. Trystevog spoke to me and Arwaan saved my life. Why then should I not believe that there is a mortal among us who can speak with the gods."

"I do not think it is common for mortals to speak with gods."

"But not impossible. I should not have judged Ohvee so harshly."

"It's not your fault. He was rather odd."

"That's no excuse to treat him like he is a nothing in the world." Tevanon lowered his head. "I must work on being more understanding of others."

Had Kensic not been distracted by the sounds of a galloping horse, he may have listened more closely to Tevanon's moment of self-realization. Instead, Kensic barely heard his brother and then shouted, "Coneese is back!"

"Indeed!" said Tevanon. "And there's Pogomo!" He pointed at Jeron's black horse. "This is no coincidence. We have earned the favor of Arwaan."

"You'll hear no complaints from me," said Kensic as he patted the white horse.

"Alright! We must bury these men and women, no matter how long it takes!"

As Kensic nodded, the row of dead bodies magically disappeared, and his rather neutral expression became nothing short of sheerly amazed. "Had I not seen it, I would not have believed it."

"Yes." Tevanon gazed around at the dusky light still present. "It seems Arwaan is going to light our path. We must take advantage of this gift."

Without another word, the brothers mounted their horses and started again for Enwin.

# CHAPTER TWELVE

The journey through the Forest of Great Trees consumed the entire afternoon, and when finally Tevanon and Kensic made it to the other side, both of them turned and looked back to see their guiding light fade away. Darkness reclaimed the interior of the forest, darkness and mystery.

"I won't miss that place," said Tevanon.

"Nor I," added Kensic.

"We haven't much time before night, and it is my thought that we should get as far away from here as we can."

"Agreed."

The brothers rode until the sun was but a sliver above the horizon and then they trekked off the Road of the Nobles and found a grassy alcove hidden behind a growth of yellow oak trees.

"Shall I keep first watch?" asked Kensic.

"No need," replied his brother. "We are well hidden here."

Tevanon dismounted his horse and reached into the only remaining sack of potatoes that hung over the animal's backside. There was enough to reach Enwin, but once there, they would have to buy more food before continuing to Turlot.

"We should reach Enwin in the next day or two," said Tevanon as he handed a potato to Kensic.

Kensic was using the last bit of daylight to look over Walloh's map. "That seems possible given there is nothing marked _avoid_ in our path."

Tevanon chuckled. "We are fortunate then!"

"Yes." Kensic laid back and closed his eyes. "I shall see you on the morrow."

The brothers slept beyond sunrise, and when Tevanon opened his eyes, there was a girl staring at him. She was dark skinned and rather grimy as though she had been living in the wilderness for some time. Her black hair bubbled from her head in tight curls, and she was tall, nearly as tall as Tevanon. In her left hand, she held a wooden longbow, and from her back hung a quiver of arrows.

Tevanon was angry with himself. He was smarter than to think they didn't need to keep watch while they slept. His uncle would have scolded him for such an error, and now here he was confronted with a potential threat, one that could have already killed him and his brother.

"How old are you, boy?!" the girl shouted as she jumped back.

Being called "boy" angered Tevanon as much as his mistake of not keeping watch. His anger, however, was centered on the girl. "What matter is it of yours?"

She leaped back causing her long gray tunic to flare up as she loaded her bow and aimed at Tevanon. "Watch your tone with me, _boy_."

Tevanon wanted to fight, but he knew when to back down, and having a sharpened arrow pointed at his chest was a very good time to back down. He held up his hands to indicate he had no intention of fighting. "I meant no disrespect. Please, lower your weapon."

"Maybe I will, but first, you must answer my questions."

"Fine then, ask your questions."

"How old are you?"

"I am thirteen, and my brother is nine."

"Your names?"

"Tevanon and Kensic."

"From where do you travel?"

"We are from Lynsid on our way to Turlot."

"Turlot?" She lowered her bow and her tone turned friendly as if her threats had never happened. "Perhaps I could travel with you."

"Uh..."

Kensic was still a bit groggy from waking up, but that did not stop him from taking over the conversation. "We will have to ask you some questions."

"Well, let's hear 'em."

"What is your name and where are you from?"

"I am Narah from Niman, but I have not been there for several years."

"How old are you, Narah?"

"Thirteen."

Tevanon perked up. He did not believe that she was the same age as him, and his skepticism was evident when he said, "You look much older than thirteen."

"As do you."

Tevanon couldn't argue with that. He'd always appeared much older than his actual years. "I've not met anyone my age as tall as me."

"I'm not as tall as you." She half smiled. It was true, although, she was only a few inches shorter.

Tevanon chuckled. "Yes, well, I've not met a girl of thirteen who was even close to me in height."

"You can't say that anymore."

"True enough."

"May I continue," interrupted Kensic.

Tevanon nodded.

"Narah, you seem to be interested in Turlot. Why?"

"I have never been north of Reshar and Shiriza, but I have heard that Turlot is host to the most renowned archery contest in all the lands!"

"You are an archer?" asked Tevanon, doubt heavy in his tone.

The girl's lips tightened and her head jerked backwards. She was offended by Tevanon's comment. "You think because I'm a girl I don't know how to use this?" She held up her longbow.

"Don't be foolish. My mother was a skilled archer. I meant only that you're too young to be an archer skilled enough to compete in a renowned contest."

"Is that so?" She scanned the sky until she found a tiny speck that was a bird soaring above. Pointing at it, she said, "With one arrow, I will kill that Crested Falcon." She raised her longbow and pulled back on the bowstring.

Tevanon and Kensic watched her closely.

She took aim and let loose the arrow.

Sure as Tevanon could swing a sword, Narah could handle a bow. The arrow struck the falcon and the once flying creature fell from the sky.

Tevanon was impressed. "Who trained you?"

"It makes no matter, but let me offer you a bit of advice. Don't judge a person by her appearance. You might just miss out on something spectacular."

Kensic chuckled. He understood the reference quite well and couldn't agree more. "She would be of great help on our journey."

"Yes," said Tevanon not wholly convinced. "What about your parents, will they not mind you running off with two boys from Lynsid?"

"Yes, they would if they weren't eight years dead."

Tevanon grunted. He and Narah weren't only similar in size; they had both lost their parents as well.

"I'm sorry," said Kensic filling in for his brother's lack of sympathy.

"That's very kind, but I've been over it for a while."

"Our parents are also deceased," said Tevanon. "So we are going to Turlot to live with our Great Uncle Welksley."

"I assure you I won't bother your Great Uncle for a place to live. It just seemed that since you are going the direction I wish to go we could travel together!"

"And traveling in larger numbers is safer," said Kensic.

Tevanon eyed his brother. "Why are you so keen on having her along?"

"She is the same age as you, nearly the same height, her parents have died like ours, and her skill with a bow matches your skill with a sword. She's practically your twin sister!"

"But for our skins." Narah's smile was cheerful and lovely.

"It seems that is our greatest difference, if not the only one," said Tevanon.

"Then it's settled," said Kensic. "Narah can ride with me until we get her a horse."

Tevanon was not completely at ease with the idea of traveling with a girl he knew little about, but Kensic didn't seem worried at all, and Tevanon did not want to upset his brother. Secretly, he would keep a close eye on Narah as they traveled to Enwin in hopes of finding the Elite Guard of Detoa.

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

For near the whole day, Tevanon maintained an even pace en route to Enwin. He was anxious to get there so that he could give Jeron's lizard claw necklace to Avor. His companions followed his lead with no complaints, and all of them could agree an uneventful trip was welcome, especially for the brothers who had already experienced pirates, a fortuneteller, the death of a companion, and the mysterious Forest of Great Trees.

Just off the Road of the Nobles, there was a narrow stream that flowed through a grove of yellow oaks. It was a perfect place to camp for the night. They could fill their waterskins from the stream and the horses could drink. Tevanon leaped off Pogomo and filled his nearly empty waterskin. Kensic did the same, while Narah, not having a waterskin, drank her fill.

"We should reach Enwin tomorrow," said Narah as she raised her bow taking careful aim at a tree in the distance. Her arrow was well placed and a large furry tree booraw fell dead to the ground.

"I will build a fire," said Kensic.

Tevanon nodded then hurried after Narah on her way to collect the booraw that would make an excellent dinner. "Have you been to Enwin?" he asked.

"A few times."

"Is it dangerous?"

Narah eyed him. "Are you afraid?"

"Of course not!"

"Then why are you so worried about the dangers in the city?"

"I don't like surprises."

"Whatever." She grabbed the dead booraw by its bushy tail and slung it over her shoulder.

"I'll have you know that I am a skilled swordsman, more skilled than most grown men!"

"I have no proof of that."

Tevanon reached for his sword. "Shall I prove it?"

Narah shook her head with disinterest. "It's just like a boy to want to show off." She held up the booraw and started back to camp. "I'm really more interested in eating."

Tevanon clenched his teeth. "Are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

"Irritating."

Insulted, Narah looked at Tevanon. "Now you're just being mean."

"I'm mean? You aimed your bow at me just this morning!"

"I didn't know you then."

"You barely know me now!" Tevanon's anger was rising, as was his distrust of Narah.

"Would you calm yourself? You're acting like a child!"

"I'm acting like you!"

"Yet, you're the only one yelling."

"I'm yelling to defend myself from your insults!"

"Oh, the big swordsman is insulted."

With a grunt, Tevanon said nothing more. In less than a day, Narah had managed to annoy him more than anyone he'd known; if this was the result of having a sister, he was content in not having one.

At their campsite, Kensic was building a fire pit. He dug down a couple inches and ringed it with stones from the creek. Then he prepared a kindling pile of dry leaves, tree bark and broken up twigs. Narah knelt down near the pit and removed a skinning knife from the pouch hanging off her right hip. She then proceeded to carve up the dead booraw.

"Tevanon," called Kensic, "can you start the fire?"

Tevanon retrieved the flint rocks from the satchel on Pogomo then went to work banging them together to create a spark. It was not a fast process, but with patience and determination, it was always successful. Surprisingly, Tevanon had a vast amount of patience when it came to starting a fire proving that human interaction was the fuel for his bad temper.

Kensic, very curious about Narah's past, asked her, "How old were you when your parents died?"

Narah paused from skinning the booraw. "Now that is a serious question. I was five."

"Do you remember them?"

"I have images of them in my mind, but I remember better the stories I was told about them."

"I was two when my father was killed, and I have no memory of him."

"He was the best father ever and a true warrior," said Tevanon.

Narah's eyes drifted back to Kensic. "What about your mother?"

"Oh yes, I remember Mother well, but she was killed only nine or ten days ago."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was so new."

"Lynsid was invaded by the Vlagens of the Aronee Desert," said Tevanon as he continued to strike the flint rocks against each other. "My uncle's farm was raided and both he and our mother were killed."

"We have no other family in Lynsid," added Kensic.

The conversation seemed to disappear for a moment, the banging of the flint rocks the only noise. A spark ignited the dried leaves, and Tevanon blew on it just enough to create a flame. Meanwhile, Narah finished carving up their dinner. "It is interesting," she said, "how similar our lives have been. My parents were killed by Irbanian rebels on a mission to assassinate the king of Niman."

"Your parents worked for the king of Niman?" asked Kensic, his interest growing rapidly.

"So I am told. After my parents were killed, I lived with my grandmother for a few years and she told me my father was an advisor to the king. She didn't like talking about it and that was okay with me. Now I'll never know much about my parents because my grandmother died two years ago. That's when I started to travel around."

"Like a nomad?" asked Tevanon.

"I suppose I am a nomad."

"Have you no other family?" asked Kensic.

"None whom I wish to claim as such."

"Perhaps Uncle Welksley would adopt you. Then you would truly be our sister! Wouldn't that be swell, Tevanon?"

"Oh yes, swell." Tevanon didn't even try to hide his lack of enthusiasm, which made Narah laugh. "I'm glad you find that funny, _sister_."

Later, when the sun was but a memory, Tevanon announced who would keep watch and when. "I will be on watch for the first half of the night, and Kensic for the second."

"I am capable of standing guard, you know!" said Narah. "And that would allow you and Kensic to get more sleep before we travel tomorrow."

"She makes good sense, Tevanon," said Kensic.

"Yes, except that I don't trust her."

Kensic frowned. "I feel as though we should."

Tevanon grunted. He was mad. "If we trust every stranger on this journey we'll be dead long before we reach Turlot!"

"Are suggesting that all strangers are bad people?"

"I'm suggesting that your judgment may be reckless and it will get us killed!"

Narah interjected, "I'm not going to kill you!"

Kensic added, "We must give Narah the opportunity to earn your trust, Tevanon."

"Oh fine!" shouted Tevanon. "I'll take the first watch!" He marched off wanting nothing more than to be alone.

"He is fiery!" said Narah.

"That he is. I just hope that someday he learns to control his anger."

"Warriors are an emotional lot."

Kensic smiled. "Yes they are, and many die because of irrational emotion."

Narah's eyebrows raised but she said nothing.

* * *

Tevanon found a clearing away from the river but with a view of the camp he and Kensic and Narah had set up. Steaming with anger, he took out his aggression on a tree and very nearly chopped it down! Tevanon always practiced hard; his Uncle Yelob told him many times that a swordsman could never practice too much, and that was wisdom that Tevanon applied daily. Improving his skill was so important to him that he practiced for his entire watch! After which, he gently woke up Kensic who preferred the midnight shift because, according to him, it was the best time to study the movement of the moon. That meant Narah had the last shift, or the early shift since it meant waking well before the sunrise. She didn't mind though, and found a big yellow oak tree with a sturdy limb to lounge upon while she scanned the area for potential threats. Unfortunately, she got a little too comfortable and fell asleep.

When she woke, the sun was peeking above the eastern horizon, and five men, likely brigands, had surrounded the brothers. Narah lowered herself to an upside down hanging position, and attached her quiver of arrows upright at her hip. She grabbed an arrow and loaded her longbow while she watched her new companions being tied together with thick rope. Then she struck. Her first arrow pierced the target through the back, through the heart, dropping the brigand to his knees then to his death. The nearest brigand turned and an arrow speared his neck. Blood spouted as he collapsed dead to the ground.

The remaining three men scrambled to find cover. One of them mounted his horse; he was the next to die. The other two hid, one behind a tree, the other behind a rock near the stream. Narah abandoned her upside down position and climbed down from the tree. She approached cautiously keeping her bow pulled tight.

"For the two of you who remain," she said loudly, "I will allow you to escape, but you must be hasty. If you are not, I will slay you the same as your friends."

A gravelly voice shot back, "How can we trust you?"

"You can't. I may very well kill you anyway, but you have no other choice."

The man behind the rock stood with his bow drawn. He fired off a hurried arrow that soared well to the left of Narah. She didn't even flinch as she fired back striking the man through his chest. The brigand's dead body rolled into the stream leaving only one.

"My offer stands," shouted Narah.

The last of the brigands revealed himself with hands in the air to show that he held no weapon. A sheathed sword hung at his side, but it was clear he did not intend to use it. "I just want to live," he said almost begging.

Narah didn't expect such a large man to be so cowardly, but then she knew it was not wise to judge a person based on appearance alone.

"I'm leavin'," said the man. "I haven't any quarrel with you."

"Very well." Narah kept him in her sights, ready to deliver another fatal blow.

The man mounted his horse and rode away. It was possible he would return to take his revenge, but that was of no concern to Narah. She was confident that if he returned with more men, she would kill them all. Turning her attention to the brothers, she asked, "Are you alright?"

Tevanon's anger was impossible to hide, and he lashed out at Narah with a verbal fierceness that would have made a lesser being cower. "Were my hands not tied, I would kill you where you stand!"

"That does not make me want to untie you."

"We were nearly killed by those men! And while you were nowhere to be seen!"

Narah was not fond of admitting her mistakes, but she was not a liar and so she confessed her error. "I fell asleep—"

"I knew you can't be trusted!"

"That's not fair! I did save you after all!"

"You were lucky to have woken in time! If those brigands weren't so bumbling, Kensic and I would be dead!"

"Tevanon," said Kensic, "we must be rational about this—"

"I'm being rational! We were nearly killed!"

"But we were not killed. Narah admitted her mistake and she did save us."

Tevanon growled. He wanted so badly to be free of the ropes that were binding him to his brother.

Kensic continued. "Remember, we made a similar mistake when she found us sleeping behind those trees."

Tevanon's teeth snapped together. "That was different!"

"The only difference is that it was your mistake."

Tevanon knew that his younger brother was right, but still, he didn't like it.

"You are letting your anger best you, Tevanon. We have all made mistakes and we will likely make more of them, but if we work together maybe our mistakes will be lessened."

Tevanon made a useless attempt to break through the ropes. "Would you cut us loose already?!" His anger was still unsettled.

"Are you going to calm down?" questioned Narah.

"I will calm down when I'm good and ready!"

Narah jutted her jaw. "And I will free you when I'm good and ready."

Once again, Tevanon flexed his muscles in an attempt to free himself. It was useless. The brigands may have been bumbling, but they knew how to secure a prisoner.

"Tevanon," said Kensic. "Mother used to tell us that being honest was of the utmost importance, and that if we remembered nothing else, to always remember to be honest."

Tevanon's eyes closed. He could see his mother, alive and well, but his memories were not reality. His mother was gone. She had been gone for not that long, yet Tevanon was already forgetting her lessons. He fought away the tears, but his sorrow was all too obvious.

Narah understood his sorrow. She was but five-years-old when she lost her parents, and she did not remember the pain from that loss. Still, she missed them and there was pain in knowing she would never see them again, never speak to them again.

A brief time passed before Tevanon raised his head and looked at Narah. "Integrity is a valuable trait." His anger was subdued. "Just don't sleep on the job again."

Kensic was proud of his brother. Perhaps the lessons of their mother and uncle had finally sunk in, and Tevanon realized the importance of patience and understanding.

Confident that Tevanon was calm enough not to kill her, Narah freed the brothers from the ropes. As the binds fell away, there was redness around their wrists, an indication of just how tight the ropes had been secured.

"Alright, Narah," said Tevanon. "It seems you have your own horse now." He pointed to the four ownerless horses wandering about.

"Indeed!" said Narah smiling. Then she hurried to grab the reins of one of the brown and white spotted horses. "I will call her Sansah!"

"Each of us must tow along one of the remaining horses, and we can sell them when we reach Enwin."

"Search the dead men too!" shouted Narah. "They may have valuable goods." It was a good idea, albeit it a little degenerate. Still, Tevanon and Kensic did a thorough search of the robbers collecting a few gold coins and some food. Then the trio was back on the road to the capital of Shiriza.

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Army of Pundoe traveled much faster than mortals, for they were of the spirit world and controlled by Oxra magic; they moved in a mass, like a tornado hurtling forward at immense speeds. To onlookers, the mass of non-living soldiers was almost unnoticeable, appearing only as a blurred sphere as it rapidly passed. Mortals who allied with them were granted the same traits during travel, but it was not so pleasant a ride as Dooma soon discovered. When they reached their destination at the eastern edge of Turlot, Dooma and his loyal knights were thrown from their horses; their heads ached and their bones throbbed as though they'd been beaten with a war hammer. Traveling with the Army of Pundoe was not only painful to the head and bones, it was like being spun at godlike speeds until the dizzying sensation sweltered into a nausea mixed with a sensation of vertigo and the worst imaginable case of influenza. The contents of Dooma's stomach shot from his mouth in a violent display of vomiting, and all the while, his body shook with chills as though he was buried within the frozen ice caps of the mountains of Onzenvai. As he lay there, he pondered if traveling at twice the speed of mortals was worth the end result.

General Boveeriun grabbed Dooma by the arm and pulled him to a standing position. The former lord was dizzy, his legs weak, and he was unable to stand without Boveeriun's support.

"You have the Oxra travel sickness," said Boveeriun. "It is only temporary."

Dooma could already feel the effects fading, the nausea almost gone and the aches in his body less acute. Only the dizziness remained and a strange blurring of his vision. While Dooma and his knights recovered, Boveeriun revealed a map of the region. A few moments later, he spoke.

"Oboa is to the southwest. I advise marching half the men straight there, and the other half on a westerly path that arcs down on the northwest side of Oboa."

Despite the travel sickness, Dooma still had his wits about him. "Oboa is known for its archers. We will suffer heavy losses no matter how we approach."

Boveeriun's lips curled into an evil smile. "The Army of Pundoe cannot be felled by archers."

Dooma glanced at the decomposed face of the centuries old general. Then he looked at the map. "If we needn't worry about losses, we should march all of the men on a direct route to Oboa. Once Oboa is under our control we can expand outward to take over all of eastern Turlot."

"You're plan is boring and lacks any kind of strategy, but I shall oblige your recommendation."

Boveeriun faced his troops. He signaled to one of them and the cursed man raised a trumpet and played a screeching tune that grabbed everyone's attention.

"We march as one to Oboa!" shouted General Boveeriun. "May our onslaught be quick and fatal."

The Army of Pundoe roared in agreement.

Boveeriun turned back to Dooma. "Shall we march?"

Dooma nodded. "Although, I am not looking forward to it."

From their current location, the travel time to Oboa was nearly half a day for a mortal on horseback; for the Army of Pundoe it was half that, and upon arriving, Dooma and his knights once again experienced the gut-wrenching effects of the Oxra travel sickness. While they recovered, Boveeriun looked across the valley to the city of Oboa. Having near fifty-thousand residents, it was certainly not the largest city in the land, but its massive perimeter wall was daunting to even the most prominent invading armies, and most especially because of the seemingly infinite number of skilled archers who stood atop it waiting to fill the sky with sharpened arrows. At ground level, heavy iron gates blocked every possible entry from every road that led into the city. Oboa, like the Fortress of Ker, had never been conquered by force. Only through treaties of surrender had the castle been won.

General Boveeriun did not allow history to dictate his actions. He didn't have to. He had behind him the Army of Pundoe, and killing something that was not alive had always proved to be challenging for mortals.

Horns sounded; the horns of Turlot's military; the horns that signaled an attack was coming.

Boveeriun smiled as Oboan troops scrambled to prepare for the coming onslaught. It was comical to him, as comical as the king's jester. Preparing for the Army of Pundoe was a waste of time. In just a short while, he would give the order for his army to attack, and they would not stop short of total destruction.

"Stay here with your men," Boveeriun said to a pale-faced Dooma. "By the time you have recovered, my soldiers will have cleared a path for you."

Dooma nodded through his dizziness as General Boveeriun signaled to his trumpeter, and when the battle horn sounded, the Army of Pundoe dashed across the valley with reckless abandonment. They were savages from another dimension, an unstoppable force with a thirst for death.

The archers of Oboa, thousands of them standing atop the perimeter wall, pulled back their bowstrings and released a host of arrows that blackened the sky. Arrows pierced skulls and arms, necks and legs, yet not one soldier of the Army of Pundoe fell. They charged ahead coming ever closer to the wall.

Again and again, Oboa's archers unleashed their sharpened arrows of steel unknowing that the enemy approaching could not be killed by such a weapon. The Army of Pundoe reached the wall and spread out in small groups. General Boveeriun prompted his men to ascend the wall, and they did just that but not how one would expect. They had no ladders or ropes, and free climbing the wall was impossible given its smoothness. The Army of Pundoe, however, had been in this predicament before, and so, the non-living soldiers built ladders using their own bodies. One man on top of another they stacked themselves until they formed a ladder of men that reached the top of the wall. Such a stunt was not possible for living men to perform; the weight would have been too much for those on the bottom to bear. But for the non-living soldiers of the Army of Pundoe, it was a clever plan for gaining entrance to a walled city.

The Oboans, however, had strategies for dealing with wall climbers, and they swiftly brought forward giant cauldrons of hot tar. The tar was poured over and a few non-living soldiers were caught in the goo, but it was not enough to stop them. It was barely enough to slow them down much to the disbelief of Oboa's military men.

General Boveeriun followed his soldiers to the top of the wall, and as he climbed off the ladder of men, he heard an Oboan general yell, "Prepare for close combat!" Boveeriun slashed him with his sword then proceeded to slay several more soldiers as his men quickly filed in behind him. The slaughter had begun, and while the Oboans put up a staunch fight, none were left alive, not even those who surrendered.

When it was over, General Boveeriun stood atop the wall, a smug, yet grotesque smile on his decayed face. His soldiers had raised the gates from the inside, and those outside rushed through in a tidal wave of force. The Army of Pundoe slaughtered everything in sight; few escaped, but those who did surely had a tale to tell.

Boveeriun was interrupted by a voice from below. It was Dooma.

"General! I'm going after the king!"

Boveeriun nodded as Dooma and his twenty loyal knights rode through the chaos on a direct route to the largest structure within the walls: Castle Oboa. The castle was built more than a thousand years ago when Turlot was a new nation spawn from the North Shore War. The first appointed king selected Oboa as the capital and ordered the construction of the massive wall that enclosed the city, a wall that was not breached until now.

Castle Oboa was positioned almost directly in the center of the perimeter wall. It was built of stone and in the shape of a triangle with tower keeps at each corner. A wall, much smaller than the perimeter wall, surrounded the castle creating a courtyard within that was beautifully gardened with ponds and flowers and exotic leafy trees. While the castle was a playground for royals, it was also a military outpost guarded by one hundred archers and near as many soldiers. Dooma made his approach with caution. He knew he would never be able to break through such a defense with only twenty knights. He needed the soldiers of the Army of Pundoe to remove the Oboan guards.

Arrows filled the sky.

"Pull back!" shouted Dooma, but it was too late. Four of his loyal knights were killed and two others injured. The survivors scurried behind a wooden structure as more arrows soared toward them.

Dooma dismounted from his horse. He was angry with himself. Had he not approached so close to the castle, and in plain view, all of his knights would still be alive. As he signaled his remaining men to dismount, General Boveeriun stepped into view with half-a-hundred troops behind him.

"I see you lost a few men," said Boveeriun in a rather condescending tone.

Dooma's lips tightened. Boveeriun was an irritation to him, but still, he needed the help of the Army of Pundoe to capture King Randar. "The castle is heavily guarded. Can you clear the way?"

An arrow stuck in Boveeriun's chest. He glanced at it then pulled it out as he said, "Of course, Dooma. We are allies in this campaign and the Army of Pundoe has given us a great advantage."

More than fifty of Boveeriun's men were already scaling the castle wall. Arrows pelted them, but not one of them fell. At the top, they slew the archers then dropped into the courtyard and clashed with the Oboan swordsmen. Yet again, it was no contest.

Dooma and his sixteen remaining knights joined General Boveeriun where he was standing outside the castle's iron door.

"We need siege weapons," said Dooma.

"Maybe not," argued Boveeriun. He gestured to the tower left of him where a host of his corpse-like soldiers had started to build a ladder, the same as the ladder of soldiers they used to climb the perimeter wall. Atop the tower, they clashed with the Oboan troops and quickly turned them into dead men before entering a wooden hatch that led to the innards of the castle. Like fire ants attacking a termite nest they invaded every nook and cranny, slaying every guard in their path. Finally, they reached the iron door that would allow Dooma to enter the castle. The lock was disengaged, and the door swung open.

"You see, Dooma," said Boveeriun. "Nothing can stop the Army of Pundoe."

"So it seems."

"I believe you have a king to apprehend."

Dooma entered the castle, his remaining knights right on his heels.

Castle Oboa was large; the entry hall alone had space enough to fit a thousand people, and spreading out from there were several spacious banquet rooms lit by elaborate candle chandeliers and garnished with marble sculptures. The rest of the castle was just as fanciful, rooms filled with lavish hand-carved furniture, windows framed with silk curtains, and enormous paintings from only the most celebrated artists.

As Dooma and his men proceeded deeper into the castle, they were met with no opposition. They found only the dead bodies of the guards the Army of Pundoe had already slaughtered. Dooma hoped they hadn't harmed the king, for he was needed to ensure all of Turlot understood they had been conquered.

The broad wooden doors that led to the throne room were already open. Dooma rushed in. Two dozen soldiers of the Army of Pundoe had formed a circle around King Randar, the queen, and their son, Prince Roek.

"Is that the man behind this madness?" asked Prince Roek. He was a boy of just sixteen years, and he was unwilling to allow anyone to march on his father's reign, at least not without a fight.

"If by this madness," said Dooma, "you mean that your precious Castle Oboa has been subjugated... then yes, I am the man behind it."

"You have some nerve!"

"Roek!" shouted the king. "Stand down! This is not a fight you can win."

"Listen to your father, boy," said Dooma in an obvious attempt to antagonize the prince.

"I will not stand down, and the people of Turlot will not stand for this uncivil madness!" Roek rushed at Dooma at the same time revealing a small dagger.

Dooma, like any veteran soldier, was one step ahead. He shuffled sideways and jammed his sword into the prince's abdomen. "You will not stand at all," said Dooma as he pulled out his blade.

The king's son fell to his death.

A devastated cry filled the throne room. It was the queen as she ran to her son and threw herself onto his bloodied corpse.

King Randar sighed heavily. It was not that he didn't care; it was that he'd spent near thirty years as a soldier before he was king and he knew all too well that war meant death. His son was no exception. Unfortunately, what he didn't count on was Oboa falling so easily, but then he also didn't expect a mythical army to attack. He'd heard the tales of the Army of Pundoe, but he thought them nothing more than the fables of foolish old men. Only now that it was too late did he realize the Army of Pundoe was not a twisted dream inside a crazy man's mind. No, the Army of Pundoe was real and had easily succeeded in capturing the castle. Now, King Randar would have no choice but to surrender Turlot to the man who killed his son.

"King Randar," said Dooma, "perhaps you have heard of the Army of Pundoe?"

"It seems the legend is true."

The queen continued to cry.

"Silence her!" demanded Dooma.

One of the non-living soldiers pulled her from the body of her dead son.

The king stood. "Please, don't harm her!"

"I have no intention of harming her, but I will not tolerate her wailing like a dying animal!"

"Denalia," called the king. "Can you be calm?"

The non-living soldier removed his hand from over her mouth.

"No, I cannot be calm!" She spoke harshly. "Our son is dead and you sit upon your throne like a toad on a log!"

The king replied, "Roek was out of line and enemies never respond kindly to such actions."

"You unsympathetic pig!"

"Get her out of here," said Dooma with a wave of his hand.

She was quickly removed, and Dooma looked at the king. "My second wife was quite like your queen, elitist and disrespectful. I had her killed."

The king stepped forward, his index finger pointed sternly at Dooma. "If you harm her, I will not cooperate."

"I'm afraid you are in no position to negotiate."

"You need me for something or I wouldn't be alive."

"It is not that I need you, but rather that I would prefer to use you." He paused. "I want you to send your messengers to every corner of Turlot. They are to inform all of the regional governors that Turlot is now under the control of Dooma—"

"Dooma?" said the king. "The once lord of Mewtow?"

"I wondered if you might remember me."

"Huh! You are remembered as nothing more than King Balmar's errand boy!"

Dooma smiled. "Yes, and you are now a prisoner of this errand boy."

"I will not surrender my nation to you."

"You have no choice. Surrender or I will send the Army of Pundoe to plunder every inch of your precious Turlot."

"Do your worst," scowled the king as he turned back to his throne.

Dooma's sword swung without hesitation, and King Randar's head fell from his body.

Boveeriun entered as the severed head rolled across the stone floor, blood spilling from the neck. "Ah, the joys of seeing a bodiless head!"

Dooma wiped his sword on the king's cloak leaving red streaks on the fluffy white material. "Unfortunately, King Randar was not agreeable. You will have to send your soldiers throughout Turlot to gain control of the regional governors."

Boveeriun smiled. "It would be my pleasure."

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Enwin was a city populated by more than one million people, and even from a distance, the congestion was evident. Tevanon and Kensic were mesmerized by the size of it. The largest city they'd been to was Barone, the capital of Lynsid, and it was a small village compared to Enwin!

Tevanon brought his horse to a halt, his eyes never leaving the sprawling civilization just ahead. "It's huge."

"Just wait till we're inside," said Narah. "It's like a bee hive of people!"

"I'm so excited!" shouted Kensic.

Tevanon chuckled. "Yes, well, let us sell these horses first." He started toward a small wooden shack just off the Road of the Nobles. The sign affront read, "Horses", although, it was not necessary. Directly behind the shack there was a corral within which several horses roamed about in the shadow of a large aging stable.

Tevanon dismounted his horse and untied the reins of the brown and white horse he'd been towing behind Pogomo.

"Ho, there!" shouted a man, his face speckled with dirt and his canvas clothing saturated with a variety of stains. "Me name's Irkey, and how might I be of assistance?"

"Hello Irkey. I am Tevanon and I have three horses to sell."

"Three! Well now, that ain't too common unless yer a dealer like me." He smiled as he patted the head of the brown and white horse. Then his eyes found the saddle, and his smile faded. He took a step closer and touched the pommel that was branded with the head of an eagle. "I happen to know the fella who owns this horse, and he ain't gonna be too pleased to learn that it been stolen."

"I assure you, Irkey, I did not steal any living man's horse."

Irkey's gaze turned mean and his teeth snapped together. "Then ya killed 'em did ya?"

"The man who owned this horse was a robber and a crook, and the fate that met him was of his own doing."

Irkey slapped Tevanon across the face. It was an unexpected blow to be sure, and Tevanon's anger surged as he instantaneously swung a closed fist that struck the horse dealer above the left eye. Irkey toppled, but he wasn't down for good. He scurried back to his feet to find his opponent wielding a longsword.

"Tevanon!" shouted Narah. "Are you crazy?! We still have to sell these horses!"

Without looking back at her, Tevanon replied, "There are other horse dealers."

Irkey unsheathed a dagger. "But I'm the one who'll kill you!" With reckless consideration, he charged.

Tevanon sidestepped then spun to slash his opponent across the back. It was not a fatal blow, but just enough to draw blood, which left a new stain on Irkey's tunic.

"I suggest you stand down," said Tevanon, an arrogant grin on his face. "You are no match for me and if this continues I will kill you."

"Well, why not!" spat Irkey. "Ya arready killed me brother!"

Tevanon's eyes narrowed. Irkey had just identified one of the robbers as his brother, one of the robbers that Narah killed with her bow and arrow. This did not lighten Tevanon's anger. He had no respect for lawbreakers or those who came to the defense of lawbreakers even if it was the lawbreaker's brother.

"Tevanon!" called Kensic. "Stop and think! Would you not be as angry were I killed?"

Tevanon's eyes did not move from Irkey, but his brother's comment fluttered in the anger that was flooding his brain. Of course, he would be angry if Kensic were killed, and he would certainly seek revenge, but there was a very important difference that Tevanon was all too happy to point out. "You are not a criminal, Kensic! This man's brother would have killed us had we not killed him!"

Not even Kensic could argue the point, so he tried a different angle. "Just try to have sympathy."

"Very well." Tevanon's form of sympathy, though, was not quite like the definition. He went on the offensive, and in the next moment, Irkey's hand was lying on the ground severed from his body and still gripping the dagger.

Kensic let out a heavy sigh as Irkey stood holding the bloody wrist of his amputated hand. "You'll pay fer this!" he grumbled loudly.

"I somehow doubt it," replied Tevanon, his sword still held ready for battle. "But you _will_ pay for these three horses."

A second man ran out from the wooden shack. "What's goin' on?" He was younger than Irkey, but no cleaner.

"Irkey was just about to make on offer on these three horses," said Tevanon gesturing to the animals. "Isn't that right, Irkey?"

Silence loomed for a moment while Irkey considered his options, his rather limited options. "Fine!" he shouted reluctantly. "But I will not buy my own brother's horse!"

"Fair enough. You can have your brother's horse so long as you give me a fair price for the other two."

Irkey hastily picked up his severed hand and started toward the shack behind him. "Take care of this," he said to the second man.

Tevanon was paid one hundred fifty gold for the two horses, a very fair price. Then he and his brother and Narah were back on the trail to Enwin.

"You have quite a temper," said Narah.

Tevanon didn't look at her, nor did he reply. It was Kensic who replied. "He is a warrior driven by passion, and sometimes misdirected by emotion."

"More like misdirected by rudeness."

Tevanon shot back, "My so called rudeness is why Irkey didn't kill us!"

"You don't have to yell!" said Narah. "I was just making an observation."

"A rude observation!"

"If you were truly a warrior you could have taken care of Irkey without chopping off his hand."

Tevanon's anger doubled at her comment. "Shut your mouth!"

"She makes a good point," said Kensic. "It was not necessary to chop off his hand."

"Are you taking her side?"

Kensic slumped. He realized there was no way to answer without offending either his brother or Narah. It was a difficult position to be in and one that was self-inflicted. "I'm not taking any sides. I am merely pointing out the obvious. Irkey was not a soldier or any kind of a fighting man—"

"How was I to know that when he pulled out his dagger?"

"It was quite obvious by the way he held a dagger, like a man who was going to carve up his dinner rather than slay his enemy. I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't notice that immediately. Sizing up your enemy was one of Uncle Yelob's most repeated lessons!"

Tevanon scowled. "Maybe I did notice. Maybe I didn't care!"

"It's obvious you didn't care!" blurted Narah.

"Didn't I tell you to shut your mouth?"

Kensic frowned. "Calm down Tevanon! Narah is our friend and we should treat her as such."

"She's no friend of mine! No one who nearly gets me killed is any kind of friend!"

"That makes no sense though! The Elite Guard of Detoa nearly got both of us killed in the ambush at the mountain pass and you treated them as your best friends!"

"That was different!"

"It really was not. What is different is the way that you judge people, and for some reason you decided very early not to like Narah. You have done the same thing in the past."

"It is true, I am not fond of Narah and I wish we'd never met. She is like a Chitterer of Onzenvai with her endless talking, and she is less responsible than a child!"

Narah's face went blank. She didn't know who to respond. Then sadness crept into her expression. She hoped to fit in with Tevanon and Kensic. She hoped that her days of wandering alone were over. She was wrong. "I wish you well, Kensic." She turned her horse and dashed away.

"Narah!" shouted Kensic as he turned his horse to give chase, but Tevanon blocked his way.

"Let her go! We don't need her company."

"I do not share your opinion. Narah is a good person trying to find her place in the world, just like you and me!"

Tevanon snickered. "She can find her place alone."

"You are impossible, Tevanon!" Kensic shook his head. "I hope that one day you learn to control your anger and to be more accepting of others. For if you do not, I fear that your life will be short."

Tevanon felt a slight sting from his brother's words, but he pushed it away. He had no interest in discussing his shortcomings. As far as he was concerned, he was a warrior and to be a warrior meant there was no space for diplomacy and sympathy. It was true, he had to better manage his anger, but not at the cost of becoming weak. Shrugging, he said, "We must go."

"Fine then." For a moment, Kensic watched Narah ride farther into the distance. "I hope we see her again."

"Why do you care about her at all?"

"I was beginning to like the idea of having a sister."

"Was not Ocre's daughter enough of a sister?"

"She was! But it is unlikely I will see Elise again, if she's even still alive."

Tevanon's jaw tightened as his hatred for the Vlagen invaders swelled inside him. "If I had the power to slay every Vlagen and bring back the greatness of Lynsid, I would do it!"

Kensic admired his brother's passion. "I know that you would, but it is not possible. Narah was a girl we could grow up with in our new life."

"I'd much prefer to grow up with friends such as Avor and Gorse."

"Yes, yes, I know you'd prefer to be in the company of soldiers, but I am not a soldier and have little in common with them. Narah was different. She was somewhat an outcast like me."

"A troubled outcast to be sure."

"No more troubled than you or I."

"Maybe not, but I am still glad she's gone."

Kensic hoped that someday his brother would grow beyond his single desire to be a skilled swordsman and that he would learn the importance of compassion and tolerance. "I suppose we will not agree on everything."

"Well spoken, brother! Now then, are you ready to venture into this giant city?"

Kensic smiled. He was ready indeed.

* * *

The brothers rode through the crowded streets of Enwin becoming two more among the hundreds of thousands of residents living in one of the largest cities in the land. With all there was to look at, Tevanon and Kensic couldn't help their wandering eyes. It was a world of diverse peoples and endless structures; a place where royals shared the roads with craftsmen, beggars and slaves, and where goods from every land were available to purchase. To visit Enwin was to take a walk around the world without actually walking around the world.

After meandering through endless pedestrians, carts and horsemen for too long, Tevanon veered off the road and approached a street vendor sitting amidst a chaotic display of exotic birds in small cages. The vendor was overly enthusiastic to have a potential customer and addressed Tevanon before he dismounted his horse. "Goodz daysh, sirz!" His accent was a clear indicator that Landorin was not his first language. "Pershapz I canz intrast youz in a Lorikeet." He gestured to a bird with a red beak and a bright blue head.

"I am hoping you might be able to direct me to the Festival of Jewels," said Tevanon.

"Oh, I seez." The man's enthusiasm died off instantly, but still he provided the help requested. "The festivalsh is in the courtsyardz of the Cathedralz of Dergoz."

"How do we get there?"

"Followz thiz roadz to city centerz, therez you willz not miss the cathedralz."

Tevanon handed the man three gold pieces, a value five times that of a bird. "Your help is appreciated."

The man's eyes lit up. "All thiz for justesh givingz directionz?

Tevanon nodded.

"Forgets the birds! I justesh givez directionz now!"

At times, Tevanon was capable of great acts of kindness, which was a trait in sharp contrast to his more typical aggressive and impatient behavior. No one would argue that he had a bit of a split personality complex teetering between even-keeled and utterly infuriated. Not wanting to spark the latter, Kensic did not compliment his brother's kindness. It was better to say nothing and then pray that it was the beginning of something more permanent.

The brothers merged back onto the road once again becoming part of the sea of people flowing toward city center. It was a long walk to be sure and not much faster on a horse because of all the pedestrians. Tevanon was in a hurry to get to the festival, but his attention was diverted by an olive green tunic hanging affront a clothing kiosk.

"See that, Kensic. A tunic in the color of Lynsid's flag."

"You should buy it then," said Kensic. "But I hope it does not bring us the same luck as did the Lynsidian armor."

"I must agree." Tevanon paid for the tunic then put it on immediately. "Am I more dignified now?"

Kensic shrugged. "You look like you're from Lynsid."

Tevanon smiled. "And rightly so!"

As they continued, they easily found the Cathedral of Dergo where the Festival of Jewels was being held. The entry fee was one silver coin and they were granted access to the cathedral where many of the most famous jewels from around the land were on display. Given the number of city guardsmen present, it could easily be argued that the event should have been named the Festival of Guardsmen.

Tevanon and Kensic walked past every exhibit in search of only one, the Jewel of Detoa. When they reached the end, they had not found it.

"Perhaps we missed it," said Kensic.

"Not likely," said Tevanon.

They exited the cathedral and walked back to the entrance where they found a well-dressed man who seemed to be of some importance. When asked about the Jewel of Detoa, he simply replied, "It did not arrive for the festival."

Both Tevanon and Kensic knew what that meant. It meant the members of the Elite Guard of Detoa had been hijacked and the jewel stolen. Disappointed by this unexpected news, the brothers found a nearby inn where they could stay for the night. The main entry led to a dimly lit common area with various tables set around a large circular hearth. It was a place for eating and drinking and being merry. On this afternoon, though, being merry was not part of anyone's demeanor. Several of the tables were occupied, but there was little conversation, and of that, it was soft mumblings so as not to be heard by others. Tevanon quickly identified the innkeeper's counter and started toward it. He found a minor obstacle in a man sprawled across the floor, but he and Kensic easily stepped over him.

"What is wrong with him?" asked Tevanon.

The innkeeper was a rugged looking woman with light brown skin like that of a deer's fur. She wore men's clothing, leather pants and a brown tunic, and her long black hair was tied behind her head. "He got into it with a bigger man." Her voice was deep, her tone blunt. "And he didn't fare so well."

"Obviously."

"You boys lost?" Her tone was condescending.

"Earlier, yes," answered Tevanon. "Now, no. But we are in want of a room for the night."

"One night is ten gold, paid up front."

Tevanon laid the gold on the countertop, and the innkeeper's eyebrows lifted with surprise. "I did not expect you'd have the money," she said as she collected the coins.

"You were wrong."

As the woman twitched defensively, Kensic spoke up in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "My brother meant only that it is not wise to judge a person by his appearance."

It worked and the innkeeper smiled. "Wise words, young man. My name is Mahrosh. Can I get you boys anything to eat?"

"I am rather hungry," said Kensic.

"The rabbit stew is quite good," said the man sprawled on the floor.

The brothers turned and much to their disbelief it was Avor, albeit, a rather swollen faced Avor.

"How is it you're alive?" asked Tevanon.

"Barely, and for more reasons than those that are obvious. I assume you know about the jewel?"

"We didn't see it at the festival so we assumed the worst!"

"It was stolen by a troop of knights. There were twenty-one of them, each highly skilled in fighting. They took out our archers from afar then rode up on us; it was a slaughter."

"Gorse too?"

"I'm afraid so."

Tevanon had become close friends with Gorse, and now, like his mother and father and uncle, he was gone. He slammed his fist into an opened palm. "How did you escape?"

Avor pulled up his tunic. Bloody bandages wrapped his body. "I was stabbed seven times and left to die. I lay there for some time before a group of travelers happened upon me. They were kind enough to take me to a doctor in Enwin and by some miracle I survived."

"And what happened that you found yourself lying on the floor of this inn?"

"An unrelated misunderstanding. Now, tell me, how is Jeron?"

"He didn't make it, but gave me this to be returned to his son." Tevanon removed Jeron's necklace and handed it to Avor, but Avor did not take it.

"Jeron left this in your trusting hands, and it is for you to deliver to his son."

"It could be years before I find myself in Detoa."

"Then that is when his son will receive it." Avor looked around. "Well, I'm off to hunt the men who stole the Jewel of Detoa, for if I do not retrieve it there will be no reason for me to return to my homeland."

"Which way are you headed?" asked Kensic.

"I can't say, because I haven't any knowledge of where the jewel may be."

"Why not travel with us? Tevanon is fond of you and we will be leaving for north on the morrow."

"Yes, on your way to Turlot as I recall—"

"Turlot?" blurted Mahrosh. "I would not travel there."

Tevanon eyed her. "Why?"

"Word is Turlot was invaded by Dooma, the former lord of Mewtow in Levoo."

"All of Turlot is compromised?"

"Perhaps not yet, but Dooma is said to be making his way across the entire country and killing everything in his path. Thousands are fleeing to Hoppensing, Gottenbeg and Levoo."

"An occupation is one thing," said Avor, "but to slaughter everything, that's just barbaric. Why would a former lord do such a thing?"

"Revenge," replied Mahrosh.

"I'm no historian, but I recall that Lord Dooma was charged with treason by the Queen of Levoo. Why would he seek revenge against Turlot?"

"Perhaps it is not revenge against Turlot," said Kensic, "but a way to secure a successful revenge against Levoo."

"What mean you?"

"The Fortress of Ker serves as the capital of Levoo, and is where the queen resides. It is also near the northern border of Levoo and directly south of Oboa, Turlot's capital. An army that controls Oboa, and all of Turlot, could easily front an attack on the Fortress of Ker and without having to worry about Turlot sending an army to aid Levoo."

"You have an incredible mind, Kensic!" Avor looked at Mahrosh. "He is but nine-years-old. Can you believe it?"

Mahrosh smiled. "Had I not heard him speak the words I would not have believed a nine-year-old spoke them. But as he told me earlier, it is not wise to judge a person based on his appearance."

"There is truth in that," said Avor. "I think Kensic's theory may be right, and I'm very interested in finding out for sure." He pulled at the black hairs of his goatee. "I will join you boys as you travel to Turlot."

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

After a decent night's sleep, Avor and the brothers gathered up their belongings and set out for Levoo. It was early in the morning when they left, and Avor intended to keep a steady pace as they traveled north toward the Ahbadon Mountains. The scenery was bland, almost unchanging as they rode across spans of hardened earth sparsely populated with sagebrush and yellow oak trees. They passed few travelers, and those they did were unknowing of the state of affairs in Turlot or at the Fortress of Ker.

Avor spoke very little, restricting his comments to those related to the direction of travel and the time to reach certain markers. Kensic followed along using Walloh's map, just to be sure there wasn't another area they should avoid. Fortunately, their first day of travel was uneventful, and as the sun began to set, Avor shouted, "Up ahead there is a small settlement!" He looked back at the brothers trailing behind him. "If they are friendlies, we will camp there for the night."

Tevanon and Kensic agreed it was a good plan. It had been a long day of riding, and they could all use some rest.

Avor slowed his horse so as to be in line with the brothers. "I know I have not spoken much today other than to say we're making good time, but that is because I'm concerned, for if Turlot has been occupied and Kensic's theory is correct, there could be an attack on the Fortress of Ker at any time."

"No matter your pace," said Tevanon, "we will keep up. Isn't that right Kensic?"

Kensic nodded. "Yes, we are as eager to reach Turlot as you are."

"You boys are fantastic travel mates." Avor looked ahead at the settlement they were approaching. "Let us pray these people are friendly." With a roguish smile, he urged his horse to a trot and the brothers followed close behind.

The settlement they had discovered was not a permanent one and was known as a tent town. Traveling merchants commonly set up tent towns near main roads in an effort to sell their goods to passing travelers. This particular tent town was made up of four canvas covered wedge tents, each one large enough to accommodate two people, three at most.

Standing in front of the tents and near to the road, two men were collecting up their salable goods. They wore the long robes of Irbania, but they were not of Irbanian descent. The obvious indicator was the reddish-chestnut color of their skin. These men were from the jungles of Kanbia, and they were oft referred to as red men. Avor made no indication of concern as he dismounted and said, "Good eve."

The taller of the two red men had already paused from his work to address the stranger. "Good eve. You are here to buy goods?" He spoke Landorin as well as anyone despite that the language of Kanbia was a very different dialect. "Or to trade?"

"Neither is my intent, although I wouldn't mind having a look at what you've got."

"I can arrange that." The red man smiled. "My name is Tro-Ot, and my counterpart is Sok-Wu." Sok-Wu bowed his head slightly.

"I am Avor and my companions are Tevanon and Kensic. We are traveling to Turlot—"

"Turlot?" There was alarm in Tro-Ot's voice. "I suggest you not."

Tevanon was now very interested. "You have news from Turlot?" he asked as he slid off Pogomo.

"We were in Turlot..." he paused to think. "...say twenty-five moons ago."

Sok-Wu interjected. "Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three moons ago we were in Turlot and then we traveled south stopping at Three Cities before continuing on the main road. As we set up our kiosk of goods outside Fifna, we were approached by a young man who wore the crest of the queen of Levoo. He was one of the queen's messengers! He paid us for a sack of carrots and told us that Turlot was under attack, that Oboa had already fallen!"

Now Kensic was interested. "Oboa has fallen?"

"Yes!" Tro-Ot gestured to Sok-Wu. "We could hardly believe it, but he swore on the crest of the queen and by the goddess Athelis!"

"Oboa has never been conquered by force," said Kensic. "It is well known for its archers who stand atop the massive wall that surrounds the city."

"You are right, young man! But the queen's messenger told us otherwise! Were we men of adventure we might have turned back north, but we are only common peddlers who have no skill to fight."

Avor smiled. "It has been my experience that common peddlers know a few tricks to fend off would-be robbers."

Tro-Ot leaned closer to Avor and with a rascally smile he said, "You might be right, but we are not soldiers and have no interest in becoming involved in the wartime affairs of any nation."

"I respect your neutrality and thank you for sharing this news about Turlot."

"So then, if you are not here to purchase goods, what is your intent?"

"We must camp, and thought to do so adjacent to your camp. Do you object?"

Tro-Ot looked at Sok-Wu and upon receiving a nod from his companion he said, "We do not object."

"Very well. Now, if you're of a mind to do business, I'll take a look at your goods."

It was a profitable encounter for Tro-Ot and Sok-Wu. Avor purchased a new wardrobe, spending nearly twenty gold! And Tevanon and Kensic spent almost as much on pork jerky, clothing, and blankets. When the dealings were done, and the sun had set, Kensic prepared to keep first watch. He was hoping to sleep sooner rather than later, but such was not the case. As he removed his Uncle Yelob's dagger from the saddlebag strapped to Coneese, he couldn't help but ponder the possibility that Great Uncle Welksley may have been killed during the raid in Turlot. He approached his brother who had already lain down on a bed of blankets. "What if Great Uncle Welksley is dead?"

"Your bluntness still surprises me, Kensic." Tevanon smiled. "If something happened to Great Uncle Welksley we will find another place to go."

"It's beginning to seem as though our place is on the road."

"Are you suggesting that we are nomads?"

"I am suggesting it as a possibility. Our lives are similar to Narah and she is kind of a nomad."

Tevanon repositioned himself for sleeping. "True or not, I do not wish to hear about my similarities to Narah. Now, good night Kensic. Wake me if anyone approaches."

"Of course."

Fortunately, the night passed without incident and early in the morning Avor and the brothers said farewell to Tro-Ot and Sok-Wu as they headed north to Turlot. Avor estimated ten days of travel; a lot could happen in ten days, and there was still the question of whether the invasion of Turlot was the first step in a plan to invade Levoo. Avor could not say, but Kensic's theory that there was a coming attack on the Fortress of Ker seemed very likely. If that were the case, getting to Turlot would be difficult.

By midday, they were at the Sken River, a natural border separating Shiriza and Levoo. The Sken River was broad and fast flowing and had taken the lives of many men who attempted to swim across. Avor and the brothers had no intention of swimming. They continued to the stone bridge that was wide enough for only one horse-drawn cart at a time. Near the entry on both sides of the river, there were stone towers and a presence of military personnel. On the south side, Shiriza's army stood guard, and on the north, Levoo's army. It was clear that neither nation wanted pirates or other brigands holding the bridge for ransom.

Avor quickly identified the Shirizan soldier with the highest rank. "Good day!" he shouted as he dismounted his horse.

"Good day!" replied the Shirizan sergeant. "How may I assist you?"

"Have you any word from Turlot? We are traveling that way and have heard it may be under siege."

"We have confirmation that Turlot was invaded many days ago, but we do not know the current status. We can only advise travelers to be cautious."

"Thank you for the information." Avor was quickly back on his horse and leading the way across the bridge. Upon reaching the opposite shore, Avor once again dismounted to speak with one of the soldiers from Levoo. The conversation was brief like it was with the Shirizan soldier and not any more informative. Thus, Avor mounted his horse, and started along the main road to the north.

The next obstacle the trio encountered was the Ahbadon Mountains, and the brothers feared they were going to have to endure a mountain pass similar to that in Lynsid; one that was unmaintained and left to deteriorate. Unlike Lynsid, however, Levoo was still a great empire and with a vast amount of resources. This was obvious from the strictly maintained road and the lack of highwaymen and crooks. It was a beautiful ride through the lush Pizgaw Forest, the tall sequoia trees green and aromatic, flowers abloom, and birds whistling the tunes of wilderness. Avor and the brothers camped one night in the mountains then continued north through Pizgaw Forest on the road that would lead them all the way to Turlot.

Along the way, they passed many travelers none of whom could provide information about the invasion of Turlot, at least nothing more than what Avor and the brothers already knew. After seven days, they crossed over another river and came upon a wooden sign that arched high over the width of the road. On the sign was engraved, "Town of Ogendall".

"Ogendall is the second largest producer of lumber east of the Yallan Ocean," said Avor as he slowed his horse.

"That explains why every structure is made of wood," said Tevanon as he looked ahead to where the town began.

"Yes."

"But it does not explain why they are occasionally attacked by beast-men," said Kensic as he studied Walloh's map.

"Beast-men?" Avor was curious.

Tevanon leaned closer to his brother so he could see the map. "It does say beast-men."

"Where again did you say you got that map?"

"From the grave digger in Irdon," replied Kensic. "His parents were traveling merchants and he mapped the land noting some of the more interesting and dangerous places."

"Hmm." Avor said nothing else. He was skeptical of the idea of beast-men. Then again, who wouldn't be, it sounded like another fictional tale no different from the Army of Pundoe.

As they entered the town, they became aware of a caravan that was partially blocking the road. Several soldiers from Levoo's army were present and speaking with a man and a woman, both of whom looked as though their luck had run out.

"I had an urge to stop and eat," said Avor, "what say you?"

"I am hungry," replied Tevanon, "but I want to speak with those soldiers first." He gestured ahead.

The soldiers, two of them, were upon their horses and only a few paces behind where the foot soldiers were speaking with the disheveled man and woman.

"Good thinking." Avor steered his horse toward the soldiers. "Good day!"

The soldier nearest wore the stripes of a sergeant and he was quick to address Avor. "Good day! How may I assist you?"

"Do you have news from Turlot?"

The woman nearby interjected, "Turlot? Did you ask about Turlot?" She approached swiftly, her long stringy hair catching the wind of her motion. "The Army of Pundoe has taken Turlot!"

Avor wore the most curious expression. A moment ago, it was Kensic talking about beast-men, and now this woman was talking about the Army of Pundoe. _Outrageous!_ he thought. The Army of Pundoe was a legend from old times, and those who spoke of such things were usually suffering from a case of the crazies. This woman certainly fit the appearance, her face glazed over with a covering of dust and grime, hair flailing about, and her yellow dress torn and tattered. If she wasn't crazy, she'd certainly been on a rigorous journey.

"The Army of Pundoe is purely legend," said the sergeant.

The woman scowled. "Soon enough, you'll see how real is the Army of Pundoe!"

The sergeant said nothing. He merely took a deep breath as he listened to the woman continue her conversation with Avor.

"Are you boys traveling to Turlot?"

Kensic joined the conversation. "Our Great Uncle Welksley lives in Ketraveria—"

"Welksley... Welksley..." The woman's eyes narrowed as though she were straining to think. "That name is familiar." She turned to face her caravan. "Teppy!"

While the woman was distracted, the sergeant spoke again. "It is true that Turlot is under attack, and in dire need of assistance. People are fleeing the country in masses."

The woman turned back. "It is dire because of the Army of Pundoe!" Teppy was now standing next to her, the same man she was standing beside when Avor and the brothers first approached the scene. She asked him, "Do you remember a Welksley from Ketraveria?"

Teppy was tall and slender, well beyond his prime, but with a certain spark of life as was evident in his chipper tone. "I do remember Welksley! He lived on a farm east of town center, out past Sib's place!"

"What became of him?"

"He was slain along with Sib and all the other farmers out east. If it weren't have been for Sib's boy who warned the rest of us, we'd likely all be lying dead in the ruins of Ketraveria."

Tevanon felt an emptiness in his heart almost as though the darkness of evil had swallowed his insides. Then his anger took over and before anyone could stop him, he'd dismounted his horse and lifted Teppy off the ground. "You had better not be lying or so help me Arwaan, I will have your head!"

"Put him down!" shouted the woman as she grabbed Tevanon's arm and dug in her finger nails. Her attack was pointless, though. Tevanon was a soldier and physical pain only encouraged him. All the same, he did as she asked and let go of Teppy. The older man collapsed to the ground, and it was then that Avor slid off his horse and placed a hand on Tevanon's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Tevanon! We will find out for ourselves whether Welksley is alive or dead."

Tevanon turned away and remounted his horse, his anger simmering.

"My apologies," Avor said to Teppy and the woman. "My young companion is full of emotion, and you see, Welksley is the last living member of his family. If Welksley is dead, he has but his younger brother and that is all."

The woman was helping Teppy to his feet. She may have wanted to speak, but Teppy spoke first. "No harm done. I'd likely be just as upset were all my family lost to me."

Avor reached into a small coin purse tied to his belt and removed several silver coins. He grabbed Teppy's hand and placed the coins in his palm. "For your understanding."

Teppy might have expressed his gratitude, but an arrow pierced his heart and as he collapsed to the ground, the silver coins spilled from his hand. The woman dropped to her knees sobbing. "Noooo!" She shook the dead man as more tears fell from her eyes. But her sadness was short lived. She too was struck with an arrow and her body slumped over Teppy.

Upon seeing Teppy go down, Kensic had slipped under Coneese as he had done during the battle with the mountain pass pirates. At near the same time, Tevanon dismounted and just as an arrow pierced the shoulder of the sergeant knocking the man from his horse. Avor was crouched down when saw the sergeant hit the ground near him, and then the second mounted soldier fell to his death beside the sergeant. Arrows continued to rip through the air leaving soldiers and civilians dead or maimed. Then the barrage stopped.

Avor listened closely. He heard only the moans of the injured. He looked at the sergeant lying beside him. "What is your name?"

"I am Gant, a sergeant in Levoo's army and in command of the Ogendall garrison."

"Very well, Sergeant Gant. I am Avor of Detoa and I ask what are we dealing with here?"

Gant pushed the arrow farther into his shoulder so that the point pierced through the other side. He broke off the fletching then pulled the arrow out from the sharp end. Tossing it aside, he looked at Avor and said, "We call them the Irbanian beast-men."

"Irbanian beast-men," said Avor almost not believing that the information on Tevanon and Kensic's map was accurate. "Where do they come from?"

"They live deep in the Pizgaw Forest; they were once Irbanians who fled Irbania when the empire fell—"

"Irbania fell thousands of years ago."

"Yes, and these Irbanians fled into the forest where they have lived ever since! Some say they are cursed while others believe they are no longer pure blood Irbanian, that something changed them, something not human! Regardless of the cause, they are a brainless bunch of monsters!"

"And they raid Ogendall for... food?"

"No, for revenge, or so is the theory. They believe us to be the ancestors of those who destroyed Irbania. And there is no trying to explain to them, for long ago they lost the ability to speak Landorin or any other known language."

"Interesting." Avor rubbed his chin. "I have been to Levoo several times and I have not heard of these Irbanian beast-men."

"It's not something you put in a visitor's guide."

Avor chuckled. "I suppose not, but why do you not hunt them down and end the threat?"

"I have but thirty men under me." Gant looked around at the five dead soldiers lying in the road. "Make that twenty-five... and it is rumored the beast-men have a population in the thousands."

"Can you not petition the queen? I mean, how long has this been going on for?"

"For hundreds of years the beast-men have prayed upon Ogendall and other nearby towns. Their attacks are random and chaotic, and the queen is full aware of this. Yet, in her eleven years on the throne she has sustained her position to not take action, the same as most rulers before her."

"That is absurd!"

"Perhaps, but maybe not. General Calresten was one of the first great military men of the Levoo that was created under King Ker. He wrote detailed descriptions of many of his campaigns, and it so happens that he was charged with eradicating the Irbanian beast-men. For nearly a decade he fought them, citing that they were capable survivalists who were difficult to pin down and more skilled in guerilla fighting than he estimated. Hundreds, even thousands of Levoo's soldiers were lost during this campaign and ultimately, General Calresten was killed too. Some of his last writings indicate that he thought the war against the beast-men was a lost cause, that there was no way to beat them. The death of Calresten prompted King Ker to end the campaign against the beast-men, and since then no other ruler of Levoo has been willing to take on the challenge."

"Instead, the beast-men have free reign to kill innocent men and women and children."

With a sigh, Gant said, "I don't like it either, but I am a servant of the queen."

"I understand your position."

Tevanon, crouched below the belly of Pogomo, had been listening. "Avor," he called. "You and I are in no such position."

"Are you suggesting we attack the beast-men?"

"If the steel of a blade will kill them, then that is what I'm suggesting."

"Steel will kill them, of that I know," said Gant. "But I urge you not to fight them! The beast-men travel in large packs. There may be forty or fifty of them, half of whom are bowmen!"

Tevanon looked farther up the road. "Our decision has been made."

A dozen Irbanian beast-men were rushing toward them. They were stocky creatures with thick bowed legs and barrel-like torsos with muscular sloping shoulders. Their skin was strangely gray, almost corpse-like; their heads twice the size of a normal human; and the features of their faces abnormally flat as though each of them had been struck by an oversized war hammer. They were not the speediest of creatures, their gate more of a lumbering jog, but they were unhesitant in their approach.

Tevanon rose up to his full height with Avor and Sergeant Gant beside him. If any of them were questioning whether they could win this fight, they did not show it. Even Gant, who did not want to fight the beast-men, had only confidence in his gaze.

"Don't let them get hold of you," said Gant. "They have unnatural strength more in common with apes! I've seen them rip men in half!"

The beast-men charged toward them, their strategy simply to overwhelm their enemy. Suddenly, the two leaders collapsed dead, the result of precisely aimed arrows.

"Haha!" blurted Gant. "A hidden ally!"

More arrows soared past, killing three more of the beast-men before they reached their target. Tevanon made quick carnage of the first creature, and then just barely dodged a swinging club that forced him to take several steps backwards. As he regained his footing, another arrow reduced the creatures by one while at the same time Avor spilled the guts of another. Only five remained, three of which had overwhelmed Gant, landing several blows to the sergeant's body. He'd all but collapsed when Avor came to his aid, spearing one of the beast-men through the back then opening another's abdomen. The third of them was struck with two arrows and he dropped dead to the ground as Gant reeled backwards and watched Tevanon battle the last two. The man-sized youth sidestepped then swung his sword lopping off an arm. He ducked the club of the second attacker and was joined by Avor who slashed the beast-man's neck causing a flood of red. As the soon-to-be-dead creature bled out, his one-armed ally came at Tevanon for another round. Tevanon's skill with a sword combined with his athleticism was no match for a single Irbanian beast-man, and the creature was slain.

"Had we not had help from a bowman that may have been a very different ending," said Gant as he rejoined Tevanon and Avor.

"Yes," said Avor. "They aren't the most skilled in combat, but I can see how overwhelming numbers is their greatest strength."

"They break up into five or six groups and run through the city killing everything in their path."

Avor could see that Gant was in bad shape. The sergeant was bleeding from multiple wounds, and he'd likely suffered some minor bone fractures after being pummeled by two of the beast-men. There was no chance he'd survive another fight. They had to find a safe place.

"Can we hide somewhere?" asked Avor.

Gant nodded. "The barracks is the most secure place."

Just then, Kensic dropped down from the underside of Coneese, the same hiding place he used when they encountered the pirates near the mountain pass in Lynsid.

Tevanon and Avor chuckled.

"What?" questioned Kensic. "It worked the first time." His brother and Avor continued to laugh as something grabbed his attention. It was a girl riding away on a brown and white horse. Kensic identified her immediately. "Narah!" he shouted, and with a single hop, he mounted Coneese and spurred the horse into a mad dash.

"Kensic! Wait!" shouted Tevanon having no choice but to make chase.

Avor turned to Gant. "It seems we're leaving. Will you be okay?"

"I've taken worse beatings and survived."

"I believe that you have. Farewell, Sergeant Gant!"

"Perhaps we'll meet again!"

With a nod, Avor mounted his horse and charged after the brothers.

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kensic had never pressed a horse to run so fast. He knew how but had never had a reason to take such action. Now, there was a reason. He wanted to talk to Narah. He wanted to apologize for his brother, and he wanted her to travel with them to Turlot. Fortunately, Uncle Yelob's white horse was a fast creature, much faster than the brown and white horse Narah was riding. Kensic smiled knowing that he was gaining on her. At the same time, though, Tevanon was gaining on him.

"Kensic!" shouted Tevanon, but the younger boy did not stop, possibly because he was out of earshot. The gap was closing fast, though. Pogomo was a fast horse, just slightly faster than Coneese, and that was to the advantage of Tevanon.

Narah glanced over her shoulder and through the wake of dust, she could see that her pursuers were getting closer. Her brown and white horse, named Sansah, just wasn't fast enough to get away. In truth, though, she did not expect Tevanon and Kensic to make chase. They didn't chase her the first time she rode off on her own. Why would they chase her now? There seemed no better way to know than to ask. With that in mind, she slowed her horse.

Kensic was upon her in just seconds. "Narah! I'm so glad that you stopped!"

Tevanon blazed onto the scene interrupting his brother. "Have you gone completely mad, Kensic! The beast-men are still about! You might have been killed!"

Avor was right behind Tevanon. "Let's not be extremist, we're all alive—"

"You are not part of this debate!" A spray of spit rained from Tevanon's lips as his anger soared.

"Stop it, all of you!" shouted Narah bringing her horse round to face them. "I get to speak first since I'm the one you were chasing!"

"I wasn't chasing you!" spat Tevanon, the veins in his neck swelling. "I was chasing my brother! Were he not such a foolish child we wouldn't be here at all!"

Kensic gazed at his brother, grief and confusion weighing on his thoughts. He'd witnessed Tevanon's insulting and offensive behavior many times before, but never had it been directed at him with such harshness. Tevanon treated Kensic differently; he was Kensic's greatest supporter and had always stood up for his brother. It was as if Kensic was the one person Tevanon truly understood, that their brotherly bond was something very special. Now it seemed Kensic was no different from anyone else regardless that he was Tevanon's brother. Such a reality was disheartening to Kensic, but as usual, he did not reveal his emotions.

"You have always been the one to stand up for me," said Kensic. "Even when I made mistakes, you never got mad or called me names. That is why I've always believed you would be there for me, but now I fear you have lost your way completely, that losing mother and uncle is too much for you to bear. You have damaged the bond between us, Tevanon, and I am more disappointed than I can say."

Tevanon's anger recoiled, and sorrow replaced it. It was true that he was having a hard time with the loss of his mother and uncle, but he hadn't considered that it was affecting his judgment so deeply. "I didn't mean what I said—"

"Then next time, think before you speak."

"Wise words," said Avor softly.

Tevanon glanced at Avor, his anger resurfacing but only for an instant.

"You still don't understand why I came after Narah, do you?" asked Kensic even though he already knew the answer. "She is just like us Tevanon! She has no family to run home to! She hasn't even a home to run to! Can you not relate to such things?"

"I can relate to those things, but they are not why I dislike Narah."

"So your dislike of Narah is because she made a mistake that you cannot forgive. I think that is sad given the number of mistakes you have made just since we left Lynsid!"

Kensic's words angered Tevanon, and had anyone else said them, he would have put a fist in their face. Despite his anger, though, he fully realized that his brother was right. Suddenly, he was flashing back to the lessons of his Uncle Yelob; be patient and control your emotions. Tevanon had never fully absorbed those lessons, never took them seriously, but he also never anticipated his volatile temper affecting his relationship with Kensic. Now it had, and Kensic was the one person he never wanted to hurt. His shoulders sunk with the weight of knowing that he had to change his ways.

Kensic recognized his brother's strife, and so, in true form, he tried to help him. "You are bound to be a great warrior, Tevanon. But to be a great man you must be patient and compassionate and you must try to understand why people act as they do. I know I sound like Uncle Yelob, but he taught us good lessons and we should live by them."

Avor was once again astonished by Kensic's intellect, and with a smile, he carried on the theme of the nine-year-old's words. "Your brother speaks the truth, Tevanon, and it sounds as though your uncle was a wise man. It is no easy task to learn and apply new behaviors, but I think you'll find that patience and understanding will enhance your strength with a sword at the same time that it will please your god."

Tevanon started to cry and from his trembling lips, he said, "I miss Uncle Yelob... I miss him so much." He covered his face with both hands. "And I miss mother the most." His words were muffled but loud enough to be heard by the others.

Kensic prompted Coneese to sidle up to Pogomo. He reached out and touched his brother on the shoulder. "I miss them too."

Tevanon lowered his hands; his cheeks were wet with tears. "I'm sorry, Kensic. If I could take back what I said I would, but I cannot. The truth is I am having a difficult time dealing with the loss of mother and uncle, and then hearing that Great Uncle Welksley may be dead, it just isn't fair. I hope that you can forgive me."

"I already have, but I will not forgive you again and again. You must be mindful of Uncle Yelob's lessons; you must try to be better."

Tevanon's eyes wandered upward to the blue sky. "Arwaan as my witness, I will learn to control my anger and I will make you proud to be my brother."

"I know that you will."

Avor interjected, "If I may be of assistance on your life journey, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Avor," replied Tevanon. "I have been fond of you since our first meeting, when you didn't kill me on sight. I suppose just that is a lesson in patience."

Avor laughed. "Had I killed you, I would have missed out on a great friendship!"

Kensic turned and addressed Narah who had been very quiet. "Narah, I am sorry for what happened on the way to Enwin. I wanted to come after you then but Tevanon would not allow me to."

"No surprise there," blurted Narah.

"Would you consider traveling with us to Turlot?"

"Hold on!" interrupted Tevanon. "Why were you following us?"

"I wasn't!" She was defensive. "You were following me!"

"That does make sense," said Kensic. "She said she wanted to go to Turlot for the archery tournament, and she would have gotten a head start on us since we stopped in Enwin for a night."

"True," said Tevanon. "Well then, Narah, I apologize for the way I treated you before. I'm still not sure I like you, but I do respect your skill with a bow, and I would rather you be my ally than my enemy."

Narah smiled. "From you, I will accept that as an invitation of friendship!" She looked at Kensic. "I'm so glad we met up again!"

"Me too!" said Kensic as he gestured to Avor. "This is our friend Avor. He is in search of the Jewel of Detoa and will be traveling with us as well."

"You're much older than the rest of us, aren't you?"

"Well now, you certainly are direct," said Avor. "There is no doubt I'm the old man of this group!" He laughed loudly, which made Narah smile.

"I like you, Avor! You remind me of an older version of Kensic!"

Kensic's face lit up with happiness. He was so used to being compared with his mother that he never thought to hear his name uttered in the same sentence with a great warrior like Avor, unless of course it was to point out their differences. Such was not the case this time, and Kensic was very pleased with the change.

"I assure you," said Avor, "I have not nearly the intellect of Kensic, and certainly by the time he reaches my age he will have found much greater success."

"You are too kind," said Kensic.

"Now that the introductions are done, shall we start north?"

"On your lead, old man." said Tevanon with a sly smile.

Avor laughed as he cued his horse north, and he and the brothers and Narah were on the trail again.

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The sun was high in the sky as Dooma stood atop one of Castle Oboa's tall towers. His gaze was settled to the south, to the rolling hills of tall grass. Dooma, however, did not notice the landscape; he was looking at something more distant, something that was out of range of the naked eye, but that he knew the location of all too well. He was looking at the Fortress of Ker. The image of the massive three-walled city was burned into his memory, his hatred for it blazing from his narrowed eyes. Now that he controlled Turlot, his revenge upon Levoo, and specifically the queen, would be swift. His lips curled into a sinister smile. He could already taste victory. Just then, he was interrupted by General Boveeriun.

"Plotting your revenge, I suppose?"

Dooma turned. "Something like that."

"Just remember you will always be indebted to Akarid, and sorcerers will go beyond death to collect."

"No debt would be too great for seeing Queen Diaochan's head severed from her body."

"Yes, you say that now." Boveeriun chuckled. "I said similar words a thousand years ago, and then Skelor made me into this; this undead thing whose soul is trapped in the in-between. I cannot live life and I cannot die. It is a depressing existence that is controlled by the worst kind of magic."

Dooma huffed paying little heed to Boveeriun's warning. He knew the risks of forming an alliance with a sorcerer such as Akarid, and there had been moments that he regretted such an alliance. He no longer had regrets. Akarid had already gotten him closer to his revenge than anyone else could have, and once he had his revenge, he would gladly accept the debt of Akarid for the remainder of his life.

"Never mind all that," said Boveeriun. "The all-powerful Akarid wishes to speak with us."

"Akarid has returned?"

"Not to the living. He is still suffering the weakening effects from commanding the Army of Pundoe, but he will soon return, likely after he steals the soul of another long since dead sorcerer." Boveeriun laughed, but Dooma did not share in his laughter. "That's underworld humor."

"I prefer a good jester to a comedic dead man."

Boveeriun laughed even louder. "I'm glad you're loosening up, Dooma. We may yet be friends after all this! For now, though, we must go to the mystic's chamber where Akarid can communicate with us."

The mystic's chamber was deep below the castle and accessible only through a small hatchway that led to a steep spiraling staircase. There was no light, but for the torch held by Boveeriun, and there was no sound but for Dooma's boots clapping each step. At the bottom, there were two large wooden doors facing each other. Boveeriun gestured left. "That door goes to the morgue." Then he pointed to the right. "This way." He pushed open the door and there was nothing but a cavern of darkness. "Wait here while I light the torches."

Torch light revealed a circular room that was sixty paces in diameter, and in the center, there was a short pillar with a squared top suggesting it was used as a table. Upon the walls, there hung leather scrolls written in a foreign language. Dooma gravitated toward the scrolls, his curiosity evident as he tried to decipher the words.

"The writing is in Dantonese," said Boveeriun. "In these times, only mystics and sorcerers use it, but thousands of years ago it was as common as Landorin is today."

Dooma made no reply as his eyes lazily wandered upward to where the slanted ceiling formed a point high above the floor. Suddenly, his curiosity came to life again with the emergence of a bright golden light. The light filled the room and then there was a green mist. He rubbed together his damp fingers; the mist was thicker than water, more like syrup. Tasting it, Dooma cringed. It was disgustingly sour. His attention was quickly diverted when the veil of golden light faded and a cloud appeared hovering above the pillar in the center of the room. The mist divided into channels that looked like fanciful ribbons floating down from the heavens, and then a moment later, the ribbons were gone. _HISS!_ The cloud crumbled into smoke, and from the smoke, a face appeared, a huge face that filled almost the entire space. It was the face of Akarid.

"Greetings gentlemen."

"Yes," said Boveeriun. "Greetings."

"I have been watching you, and you have done well. Now, General Boveeriun, I command you to march your army to the southern border of Turlot where you will await my return."

"How long shall we wait?"

Akarid laughed. "You will wait for my return, no matter the time!"

"That is unreasonable!" blurted Dooma, his tone threatening.

Akarid's laughter ended abruptly and his sinister green eyes targeted the former lord of Mewtow. "Watch your tone, Dooma. I may not control you in the way that I control the Army of Pundoe, but I control you nonetheless."

Dooma huffed, the feeling of regret surfacing again.

"When I arrive we will begin our assault on the Fortress of Ker! Victory there will lead to the collapse of Levoo and then all the other nations will crumble with her! I will have a blank canvas on which to create the world in my vision!" He laughed again, more boldly this time as if he were invincible.

"There have been many sorcerers with your ambition, Akarid," said Boveeriun. "But none has successfully conquered the world. Perhaps your scope is too broad."

"Mind your manners Boveeriun, and remember that I control you."

"You control my actions, not my words."

"Perhaps there is a spell to amend that."

Boveeriun laughed. "I'm sure there is, and I'm sure you'd kill to have it!"

"Enough of this! Go to the border and await me!"

The image of Akarid was gone. Now, only the torchlight remained. Dooma glanced at Boveeriun. "You certainly have a way of getting under his skin."

Boveeriun laughed.

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

For half the day, Avor led his companions at a rigorous pace along the trail that would take them to Turlot. There was not a single complaint, as all of them knew they would eventually have to stop and water the horses. That time came just before midday, and it was a welcome break for all of them.

After filling his waterskin, Tevanon sat down against a large rock, his expression that of concern. Avor noticed and asked, "What seems to be bothering you, Tevanon?"

Leading with a sigh, Tevanon replied with a question, "Do you get angry when you're cheated or insulted?"

"Certainly," said Avor smiling. "I think anger is the normal reaction to both."

"But then how do you control your anger so that it does not control you?"

Kensic cut in with an answer. "Emotions are not logical even though we are emotional creatures."

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of your logic Kensic, but your way of dealing with emotion is opposite mine. It would be impossible for me to act like you!"

"I see your point, brother."

"When someone insults me," said Narah, "I insult them back. And sometimes I laugh in their face."

"Hmmm. I'm not so sure I'd be able to laugh through my anger."

"Perhaps my approach will suit you better," said Avor. "Self awareness is the key to success. You see, anger comes from somewhere; it doesn't just appear out of nowhere. So, when I feel anger creeping up I take a breath giving myself time to identify the source before I do something I'll regret. Over time this strategy can help you identify what triggers your anger."

"Everything triggers his anger," said Narah.

Tevanon's anger flashed making Narah's comment all the more true.

"Take a breath," said Avor.

"It is hard to breathe when I'm mad!" spewed Tevanon.

"Do you know why Narah's comment angered you?"

"Because it was rude!"

"Doubtful. I suspect your anger comes from a lack of knowing who you are. The truth is many things trigger your anger, but you don't want someone else telling you about yourself."

Tevanon lowered his head; he knew that Avor was right.

"You see why self awareness is so important?"

Tevanon nodded. "I do. If I am fully conscious of my weaknesses, of those things that hurt me then I will not be as likely to lash out when they happen."

"You might compare it to being a swordsman. No swordsman is perfect in every maneuver, but if he knows which maneuvers he is lacking in, he can fight in such a way that does not reveal his weaknesses."

Now that was a comparison Tevanon could understand! He would never reveal his weaknesses as a swordsman, and similarly, it made no sense to reveal his emotional weaknesses. Yet, all this time that is exactly what he'd been doing. "I get it!" he shouted.

"Very good!" Avor stood with his newly filled waterskin. "But in order to be self-aware you will have to learn what triggers your anger. As I said before, when you feel your anger surge take a deep breath and ask yourself, what is causing this anger? Then remember the cause for the next time. Meanwhile, however, you will have to get out of the situation that you're in; the next question I ask myself is am I in danger? Typically, I am not in which case I can just walk away. There are situations, however, where force may be necessary. I am not an advocate of using deadly force in every situation. Many a man only want to throw punches to prove their toughness. I am glad to give them a lesson in hand-to-hand combat. Although, I will say, that I do not always win. The alternative is having to live with the fact that you killed an unarmed man which can land you on the executioner's block."

"I hadn't ever thought that I might be arrested for murder."

"I've seen it before and it is quite a shame to see a man beheaded all because of a trivial misunderstanding."

"You mentioned a misunderstanding back in Enwin where Kensic and I found you lying on the floor of the inn. You were in a fight, yes?"

With a chortle, Avor said, "I was, and on the losing end."

"Obviously."

"But I live to fight another day! Had I drawn my sword I may not be talking with you now."

"I see your point."

"Once you can control your anger, you may find that you have more patience and can better relate to others."

An almost smile was on Tevanon's face. "Thank you, Avor."

"My pleasure. Now then, we best be on our way. We've still a long way to go."

* * *

For two days, they followed the road through Pizgaw Forest until finally it led them to a grassy valley where Three Cities stood in the near distance. The outer wall of gray stone was massive, larger than anything Tevanon, Kensic and Narah had ever seen. The towers were larger than most castles, and the number of soldiers was an impressive display of might.

"I see why it is also known as the Fortress of Ker," said Tevanon.

"Indeed," said Avor. "Built five hundred years ago, yet still considered impregnable."

"The outer wall is so tall you can't even see the two walls on the inside," said Kensic.

"Yes, and the inner walls are not small by any measurement. The road will lead us closer before it veers northwest to Turlot." Avor cued his horse to a trot and the others followed.

It wasn't long before they were at the closest point, a thousand paces from the massive outer wall. Avor rode to a stop. He'd been to Three Cities a few times during his military career with Detoa, and it was impressive every time. "King Ker was a man of vision."

"Or afraid of something," said Narah.

"He was afraid of Akarid's return," said Kensic.

"What good are giant walls and a castle when up against a sorcerer?" asked Tevanon.

"Likely no good at all." Avor tapped his head. "But fear makes us do crazy things."

Tevanon considered that maybe fear had prompted his anger on more than one occasion. He would have to be conscious of that moving forward.

"How far to Turlot?" asked Narah.

"Little more than a day. Given it is late in the afternoon, we'll have to camp one night before reaching Ketraveria."

* * *

Tevanon stoked the fire as he bit into a piece of cooked rabbit. "It's good."

"We have Narah to thank," said Avor. "Her aim with a bow is precise no matter the size of the target."

"It was nothin'," said Narah, her contentedness obvious.

As difficult as it was, Tevanon thanked her, which prompted a smile from his younger brother.

"Tell me, Narah," said Avor, "how did you come to be so skilled with a bow?"

"I taught myself."

"Impossible!" blurted Tevanon.

Kensic frowned.

"Perhaps we should let her explain," said Avor.

"I was eight when I found this bow in my grandmother's barn." Narah gestured to her wooden longbow. "I'd never actually held a bow, but I'd seen a man who lived nearby use one to hunt rabbits. I thought it looked fun so I found some twine to use for the string and I whittled arrows from small tree branches. At first, I was dreadful, but eventually I started to get the hang of it! I tried for several seasons to get a rabbit, and finally, when I was nine, I did! Maybe it's strange, but I was so excited that I became obsessed with archery!"

"That's not strange at all," said Tevanon. He had similarly become obsessed with the longsword.

"And that first hunting success was using your own whittled arrows?" asked Avor.

"Yes! I was making them better by then though!"

"The arrows in your quiver, are they your own?"

"No. I got so good at hunting that I was saving my grandmother a lot of money on food. She mentioned it once then started giving me silver coins. I guess it was her way of thanking me; I don't know, but I collected those coins till after my tenth birthday and then my grandmother sent me to see Eclev the fletcher. She told me he could help me with my archery skills, and he surely did! Eclev showed me linen string and steel tipped arrows. I remember first using that combination; it was amazing! My first shot was at a target behind Eclev's shop. I put it right through the bullseye! He was so impressed he asked if I would compete in the local archery contest. Twice I entered, the first time placing third and the second time I won!"

"And that is why you want to compete in Turlot's archery contest!" exclaimed Kensic.

"That's exactly right! I just know I'm good enough!"

"Let's hope Turlot is still around when we get there," said Avor.

Narah's expression changed. "What do you mean?"

"Have you not spoken to anyone along the way?!" asked Tevanon.

"I've spoken to many people, but not about Turlot."

"Turlot was invaded many days ago," said Avor. "Some say it has been conquered."

"That's just my luck." Narah's shoulders slumped as she let out a disappointed exhale.

"Don't get down about it just yet. We don't know the state of Turlot. For now, let's get some sleep. Who wants first watch?"

* * *

The day was full of sun with few clouds in the sky, but the air was cool as was common in the northern region of Levoo. Avor and Tevanon rode side by side as they approached the border where Turlot began, where the town of Ketraveria began; but what was once a bustling community of farmers and ranchers had been turned into a land of scorched earth, crumbled buildings, and violent death. Smoke still smoldered; the ashes glistened hot.

"Dear Arwaan!" exclaimed Tevanon. "The man in Ogendall was right! Turlot is in ruin!"

"It certainly seems that way," said Avor staring across the crumbled and burned remains of the town of Ketraveria.

"I suppose then our Great Uncle Welksley really is dead," said Kensic.

"Let's not force a conclusion until we properly investigate." Avor cued his horse toward the burnt rubbish just ahead. The others followed, each of them with a heightened awareness for possible threats. Their eyes first saw the charred corpses that were strewn about as though many of them were set aflame while trying to escape the invasion. If there were survivors, they were already long gone... but then from behind one of the crushed wooden structures stood a man with a thick red beard; his body wrapped in the gray fur of a wolf, and his dark eyes narrowed to instill fear. He drew his curved sword as he moved onto the dirt path that had once served as the main road through a busy town.

"Whoa!" Avor brought his horse to a halt. "We mean you no harm!"

"I'm sure of it," said the man, mistrust in his tone. "I suppose then you'll pass through quickly."

"We are searching for a man named Welksley. He was a farmer here."

"Unfortunately for you, I'm not from here."

"What is your business?"

"None of yours."

Avor smiled roguishly. "I see! You are a looter!"

The man's lips parted as though he was going to smile, but instead he grunted. "I warn you, move along before I make this place your grave as well!"

"You are outnumbered, sir, and even if you are an excellent swordsman you will not win this fight."

Farther behind the bearded man, two more persons came out from behind a broken down building. The first was a man, his head shaved clean of hair, and just behind him was a woman with long dark braids. Both were armed with swords; both were ready for a fight.

"Perhaps the odds are not so much in your favor." The bearded man smiled ominously. "There's really only two of you given the baby and the girl will die fast."

Narah prepared her bow as Kensic realized he was the baby in this insult. Being called a baby, however, was not enough to insult him; it was, however, enough to insult his brother.

"I'll handle this!" shouted Tevanon, his sword held tightly in his grip.

"Tevanon, mind your self awareness!" said Avor.

"Just as soon as these criminals get a taste of my blade!"

"Criminals?!" questioned the bearded man, his allies now beside him.

Kensic knew that shouting words of discipline would not be enough to stop an angry and irrational Tevanon even after their conversation about helping him change his behavior. Rather than speak, he grabbed his dagger and slid off Coneese. Rushing to catch his brother, he shouted, "We will take them together!"

Tevanon held his position. "This is not your fight, Kensic. Go back where it's safe!"

"It is my fight!" Using his dagger, he gestured to the bearded man. "I was the target of his insult!"

"That's right!" shouted the bearded man. "And I'll enjoy cuttin' out your inners!"

"You will not survive this, Kensic!" proclaimed Tevanon. "Stand back and let me protect you as I promised!"

Kensic's reply was quick. "Your vow to me did not include telling me what to do!"

"Stop with this nonsense! You are not strong enough to fight grown men!"

"That is not for you to decide! You control only your choices!"

Despite Tevanon's battle stance, the strain on his face was a clear indication of his inner struggle. It was only a few days earlier that he'd lost his temper with Kensic and now he'd done it again, albeit, his words were not as cutting. He was struggling to find a path that led from who he is to who he wanted to be.

"Remember our talk, Tevanon!" said Avor.

Tevanon paused then took a deep breath and contemplated what was causing his anger. It did not take long. His anger stemmed from his promise to Kensic and his desire to fill the role of their mother and uncle. In truth, he could not be either, and Kensic would never accept him as such. He could only be Kensic's brother and friend, and that meant allowing him to make his own mistakes despite the outcome. Some of his anger lifted, but still he felt an overwhelming desire to protect his brother. He looked at the bearded man and lowered his sword. "Perhaps we can settle this another way."

"I see no other way!" shouted the bearded man, his allies grinning behind him.

Avor intervened. "There is always another way!" He sheathed his sword. "We have no quarrel with you. Let us go on about our business."

The bearded man relaxed his stance and huddled into a half circle with his allies. He spoke to them in a whisper so as not to be heard by Avor and the others. The conversation was brief and when the talking was done, he and his allies put away their weapons. "East of here there are many farms," he said looking at Avor. "You may find your friend there."

With a nod, Avor said, "Thank you. Safe travels!" He backed away slowly keeping his eyes on Tevanon. The man-sized youth lowered his sword and was retreating with Kensic. As the three of them climbed atop their horses, Narah said, "I thought I was going to have to save your necks again!"

"Nonsense," said Tevanon with a headshake. "I could have taken all three of them."

"So long as Kensic was beside you."

Tevanon could not help but smile. "Perhaps that is true. Kensic is especially effective as a surprise attack."

To the east, there was nothing but the remnants of a lush farming community; crops were burned with barns and granaries, and the people who lived there were either dead or run off. Ketraveria had been wiped away like so many other towns and cities before it.

Avor looked to the brothers. "Do you wish to conduct a search for your great uncle?"

Kensic answered first. "He is dead or he left this place when the attack came."

"Then there is no reason to search," said Tevanon. "We shall go back to Three Cities and search for the Jewel of Detoa."

"If that be your direction," said Narah, "I must bid you farewell as I head to Oboa."

"I wish you—"

Kensic cut in. "I see no reason why we can't ride with her." He was looking at Walloh's map. "It would not take that much longer to go toward Oboa and then south to Three Cities."

"And there is a chance Oboa holds clues to my missing jewel," said Avor.

"I suppose we could also learn more about the invasion of Turlot," said Tevanon.

"Very likely given Oboa is the capital of this nation."

"Alright, we shall ride with Narah to Oboa!"

Narah's giddiness was outwardly loud. "What fun we'll have! How I do enjoy your company!" She smiled playfully at Tevanon. "Even yours, Tevanon!"

# CHAPTER TWENTY

Many days had passed and Akarid had yet to return. That is why Dooma wore a scowl. Far in the distance, he could see the Fortress of Ker, a sight that brought revenge to the front of his mind. His sole purpose for joining Akarid was to have his revenge on Queen Diaochan, the queen of Levoo who accused him of treason, the queen who stripped him of his lordship then sentenced him to death by beheading. Had the king not died, she would have been the one on the chopping block... that is what Dooma believed. After all, the king sanctioned Dooma to deliver weapons to Reshar's military. It was all part of the king's corrupt plan to enter a war with Reshar, to crush them quickly and absorb them into Levoo's empire. Unfortunately, the king died before his plot came to fruition, and the newly empowered Queen Diaochan took swift action upon the corruption that was spreading rapidly throughout the nation. Dooma was the first to be arrested and tried. Despite providing ample evidence that he was working under the king's orders, the queen was more interested in making an example of him. Thus, his sentence was death and he would never forgive the queen, not even after she was dead. Killing her, however, required assistance from Akarid, and the sorcerer had yet to return from wherever he'd gone.

Behind Dooma, the five thousand soldiers of the Army of Pundoe stood in perfect rows like statues from the underworld. It was a disturbing sight to be sure, and while Dooma was glad to be allied with them, he could not imagine opposing them.

Boveeriun approached him. "I sense your impatience."

"Akarid had better not betray me." Suddenly, his attention was diverted. "What? Survivors?"

Boveeriun turned and saw the riders in the distance, four of them and none familiar to him. Before he could respond, the ground shook and the tall golden brown grass before him fell away as though dropped into a deep well. He took a step back as Dooma drew his sword. More dirt crumbled into the narrow yet ever deepening hole, a hole just wide enough to fit a person, and it was a person that rose up from it. He wore a robe with yellow streaks and a hood to conceal his face.

"Akarid!" exclaimed Dooma.

"And what if I do betray you, Dooma?" asked Akarid.

Dooma was not afraid of deathly things, but sorcery was beyond his comprehension and made him noticeably nervous. "I...I meant nothing of it."

"Mind your words. I can take away all that I give you and twice as fast." He laughed with his typical overconfidence.

"Akarid," interrupted Boveeriun, "Shall we deal with the approaching riders?"

Akarid's laughter stopped sharply, and his head jolted left. He saw the four riders that Boveeriun was referring. They were headed south now, no longer coming toward the Army of Pundoe. Akarid waved his hand unconcerned. "They will die when we invade Levoo."

"And when exactly is that going to happen?" asked Dooma, his tone snarky.

Akarid smiled. "Soon."

* * *

Avor brought his horse to a stop as he strained to see farther into the distance. There was no mistaking what he saw. It was an army. "I do not like the looks of that."

Tevanon saw it as well. "Do you think it's the army that ripped through Turlot?"

"Probably, and it looks as though they may be readying to invade Levoo."

Kensic was buried in Walloh's map as he had been for much of the journey. "According to the map, Oboa is directly north from here." He looked up at Avor. "And probably completely ruined."

"I suspect you're right, Kensic."

The ground shook interrupting their conversation.

Avor turned his gaze on the army farther ahead. It was difficult to tell if the disturbance was coming from that way. Regardless, it had the feel of sorcery, and Avor was not so fond of sorcery.

As the rumbling stopped and the dirt beneath their feet became still again, Tevanon glanced at his brother then Avor. "What was that?"

"Might be the gods," answered Avor. "Or maybe sorcery." He was still looking toward the army in the distance. "But truly I don't want to find out." His eyes found Narah. "I know your heart is set on Oboa and the archery contest, but are you willing to play it safe and travel with us to Three Cities?"

"You could have asked me plainly if I want to live or die," said Narah. "I want to live and it seems my greatest chance of that is to stick with you even if that means heading back to Three Cities."

"Let's hope they don't follow us!"

Kensic's head jutted up. "That is not very inspiring."

"But it is true." Avor pointed to the massive gray structure in the distance. "Three Cities is a short ride from here, but if they pursue us they will likely overtake us, which means we might find ourselves a lot less living."

"Huh!" blurted Tevanon. "That was even less inspiring!"

"But still true."

Narah's brow lifted. "Perhaps you should not talk for a while."

"Yes!" shouted Tevanon fully agreeing with Narah. "Just lead us to Three Cities!"

Avor laughed boisterously as he turned his horse toward the capital of Levoo.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

As Avor had said, the ride to Three Cities was short and soon enough the traveling companions were standing affront the massive outer wall. Its height was sheerly awe-inspiring and utterly intimidating. At the foot of it there was a moat and atop an endless line of bowmen. King Ker had gone to extremes to make sure his castle was defendable against any attack. He was overwhelmingly successful given that throughout its five-hundred year existence only the outer wall had ever been breached.

Kensic's face was blooming with joy as he looked up at one of the great engineering accomplishments east of the Yallan Ocean. He could hardly wait to go inside! Narah, on the other hand, could have cared less about seeing the architecture of Three Cities. All she wanted was for the atrocious smell to go away. "The smell is wretched!" she exclaimed.

Avor chuckled. "The smell you speak of is from the moat, and no one would disagree it is a most unsavory odor." He led them to the lowered drawbridge where three squads of soldiers were standing at the ready, their chainmail armor glistening in the sun. Squad leaders, identified by purple cloaks, were interrogating every person who intended to enter.

"This is not normal," said Avor. "I have been to Three Cities a few times, but never have I seen such stringent security. They must be expecting an assault."

"Ho, there!" shouted one of the squad leaders, a bearded man with a heavy brow. "What is your business in Three Cities?"

"Our destination was Ketraveria, but upon arriving we discovered it has been razed. It seemed best to return to Three Cities rather than find trouble in Turlot."

"Turlot has been deemed unsafe for travelers."

Avor gestured to the north, to the army visible in the distance. "I suppose that is on account of the army I can see from here."

The squad leader's mouth twitched. "We are expecting an invasion. You'd be wise to stay within the walls until the siege is over."

Avor nodded as the squad leader waved him on. "Move along!"

Across the drawbridge they went, Kensic noting the use of high quality construction materials; thick wood beams bolstered with iron rivets, and heavy iron chains used for raising and lowering the bridge.

Kensic smiled at Narah. "I have never been so close to a wall of this size!"

She scrunched her nose. "I have never been so close to such a horrible stench!"

"Do not fret, Narah," said Avor. "Inside the walls, the odor is hardly noticeable."

"Then let us hurry! Please!"

They reached the end of the drawbridge and passed under a portcullis that entered into a long tunnel passage commonly known as a gatehouse. The gatehouse walls were lined with narrow openings called arrowslits, and in the ceiling there were circular cutouts called murder holes. The sole purpose of the gatehouse was to be a last line of defense for when an attacking army broke through the raised drawbridge and lowered portcullis. During such an event, bowman could use the arrowslits to attack the invaders, while soldiers above the ceiling could drop rocks, fire or scalding water through the numerous murder holes. The thought of such engineering genius brought a brighter glow to Kensic's already glowing face.

The end of the gatehouse was marked by another raised portcullis that exited onto a busy road where more soldiers were standing at the ready. Avor found the nearest squad leader and asked, "Where might I inquire about stolen goods?"

"Right here, citizen," replied the squad leader. "I am Squad Leader Nortuv; how may I assist you?"

Avor slid off his horse to stand at eye level with the soldier. "My name is Avor and I am a soldier from Detoa. I was part of a small military unit tasked with transporting the Jewel of Detoa to the Festival of Jewels in Shiriza. Unfortunately, we were hijacked; the jewel was stolen and I the only survivor. Has anyone reported seeing the Jewel of Detoa?"

"I'm afraid not, but I doubt such a valuable item would be reported. It would likely be kept very quiet. Even the most honest men can be consumed by greed."

Avor was disappointed, but he knew that Nortuv was being truthful. "Thank you for your time."

"If you find the thief, the military would be pleased to bring him to justice."

"I will keep that in mind." He was quickly distracted by Narah shouting, "I thought you said the smell was better on the inside! It stinks in here!"

Nortuv could not help but laugh. "Yes, it's true! Sewage travels from the castle in First City to Second City then to Third City where we stand now, and then to the moat. The sewer channel failed a few days ago and the queen's corps of engineers is trying to find a solution. Until then, I'm afraid there will be quite a stench about Third City!"

Kensic steered Coneese closer to Nortuv. "Excuse me, sir."

"How may I help you, young man?"

"How does one gain entry to the corps of engineers?"

"Ah! You are an aspiring engineer then?"

"I am, sir, but I am not from Levoo."

"Nor am I, and I am a squad leader for her military! Our queen is from across the Yallan Ocean, and even the great King Ker was not from these parts, but rather hailing from Gottenbeg! Levoo is the land of opportunity for all people, and if you do indeed wish to be an engineer for our queen you must gain entrance to the queen's school of engineering."

"How would I go about that?"

"Do not ask me. Go to First City and visit the school. They will tell you what you must do."

"Thank you." Kensic's happiness was soaring beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Three Cities was turning out to be a grand adventure indeed!

"I say we go to First City immediately!" said Narah. "For both Kensic and to escape this foul odor!"

"Alright then," said Avor climbing onto his horse. "Tevanon, do you object to making our way to First City?"

"It is what we must do. Kensic deserves to be in a school, the best school, for he will be a great scholar and engineer."

"Thank you, Tevanon." Kensic wanted so badly to work for the corps of engineers where he would have the opportunity to design all sorts of devices, including those for removing sewage. The thought of such an opportunity was exhilarating! He could hardly wait to talk with someone from the school. "Lead the way, Avor!"

From outside the walls, Three Cities was massive, having a perimeter that was said to take a whole day to ride around. In truth, it was not so large as that, but to circle the perimeter was indeed a long ride. Three Cities was the largest walled city in the east, home to half a million people, and host to twice that on any given day. The large number of citizens and visitors created a densely packed urban labyrinth that was difficult to navigate despite that directional signs were posted seemingly everywhere. For fear of getting lost, Avor did not stray from the main roads. He'd learned long ago it was better to get there slower than to never get there at all.

There was much to see along the way, and much of it like nothing Tevanon and Kensic had ever seen before. Nearly everything was built from wood and as high as three stories, the bottom of which was typically a shop while the upper floors were sectioned off to create small living spaces called "over-dwellings", a name that was given simply because they were built over the shops below them. Out from the windows of the over-dwellings, faces peered, and raggedy clothed children scampered down rickety stairs while the merchants below them lurched about their shops waiting for a customer with coin to spend.

"I would not want to live here," said Tevanon not speaking to anyone in particular.

"I think it would be exciting!" said Narah.

"There is plenty of excitement," added Avor. "The days and the nights run together as though there were no difference."

"I agree with Narah," said Kensic. "Living here would be exciting! Surely more so than on a farm!"

Tevanon frowned. "I'd sooner live in a barn filled with manure!" His comment brought laughter to his companions, and while normally Tevanon was not fond of being laughed at, he had to smile because in all seriousness, it was unlikely that a sane person would choose to live in a barn filled with manure instead of an over-dwelling in Three Cities.

As they continued through Third City, they passed an outdoor theater, a bathhouse, a tailor shop, a bakery, and a jewelry kiosk. Farther along the same road, a three-story over-dwelling had partially collapsed. Tenants, however, still occupied the part that was intact despite that it too was at risk of falling. Avor pointed to the ruins. "I have been told this is a common occurrence."

Tevanon glanced back at Kensic and Narah. "Is this the kind of excitement you meant?"

"Oh yes!" exclaimed Narah. "But there's so much more than the possibility of your home falling on top of you!"

"I must agree," said Kensic. "Just on this road we've passed more shops and services than I've ever seen so close together! There are merchants from every nation, and that building over there is a school of history! Who knew one could go to a school all about history!"

At the next major road crossing, Avor turned right, and after passing more shops, homes and businesses, their zigzagging course led them to the next massive wall, the wall that surrounded Second City. When they looked back, they could see the outer wall that was like an enormous mountain range hovering over Third City. Visually, the outer wall provided a sense of security, but it also created the feeling of being trapped. For if the gates were secured no one could enter or exit.

"It is both comforting and frightening," said Avor gazing at the huge wall.

"I think it's fantastic," said Kensic.

For a few moments, the four of them sat upon their horses gazing at the wall that was commissioned five hundred years earlier by King Ker. It was an amazing sight especially considering the time and resources necessary to create such a structure, and then that the two inner walls were nearly as grand made Three Cities nothing less than an architectural wonder.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The gateway to Second City was not a drawbridge like found on the outer wall, but rather a broad double portcullis that could slam shut in an instant. Rows of soldiers stood at the entry, squad leaders affront them, but they were not stopping people as they were at the outer gate. They were on standby for the coming invasion.

Avor led the way under the open portcullises and to the inners of Second City where more soldiers were lined up and awaiting orders. Farther from the gateway, the rotten smell from Third City faded rapidly much to Narah's pleasure. Other than the change in odor, however, there was not an obvious difference between Second City and Third City. Both had dense populations of diverse peoples, and over-dwellings were abundant with many shops and businesses below and around. The most noticeable difference was the roads. The roads in Second City were easier to navigate, as though they were built before any people had squatted on the land. This better organization allowed for faster travel times, and as Avor turned onto the road that led to First City, there became obvious a major difference between First and Second City.

They had entered a wealthy corridor where there was not an over-dwelling to be found, but rather single story abodes on large plots and hidden behind tall well-groomed hedges that were for the sole purpose of maintaining privacy. Even through the privacy screen it was possible to see the fanciful shaded patios with elegant fountains, flowers of vibrant colors, and sculptures that were likely the work of famous artisans.

Along the same road of wealthy citizens, there was a collection of shops filled with only the most exotic goods from around the world. Silken robes and wool hats, fleece rugs and snow-white vases were just a few of the items available for a hefty price. There was jewelry made from silver, ornaments of bronze, fruits from foreign lands, and medicine for every known ailment. Tevanon rode closer to a basket filled with large blue orb-like fruits. "What are those?" he asked.

"Parchmelon, imported from across the Yallan Ocean," replied Avor. "Delicious!"

"It better be for fifteen gold!"

Continuing on, they passed through the gate to First City, and Avor quickly found the nearest squad leader. He was an older man, possibly nearing his sixtieth year. Still, there was a proud glimmer in his eye, the mark of a career soldier destined to die in battle. "Good day, citizen," said the squad leader.

"Good day," said Avor. "We are new to Three Cities and would like directions to the school of engineering."

"Well, there are a few schools of engineering in First City, but I'd wager you're referring to the queen's school of engineering, yes?"

"Indeed I am."

"This road that you're on is called Castle Road. It leads straight to the castle." He turned slightly and pointed to the castle that was easily seen above most other structures. "You see it there. The queen's school of engineering is adjacent to the gatehouse in the building that looks more like a cathedral than a school. I assure you it is impossible to miss."

"Thank you," said Avor as he cued his horse to get moving.

It was quickly apparent that First City was nothing like Second or Third City. The roads were not cluttered with excessive people and structures made from wood did not exist. This was a city built from only stone, and exceedingly fanciful. Every abode had a spacious amount of land with magnificent gardens of lush exotic plant life and decorated with stunning sculptures and soothing fountains. In fact, it was not just the homes that were built to such a high aesthetic standard; shops and schools were built using the most expensive materials and they were garnished with costly décor.

"Ah, the upper class," said Avor smiling. "They do everything with such grandioseness!"

"All of First City is like this?" asked Tevanon.

"That's right," said Avor. "It is nearest the castle and offers the most protection being behind three walls. But all citizens are granted access to the roads; just don't get too far off the trail; the soldiers that patrol here are the strictest you will find in any land, and probably more so now given there is an attack on the horizon."

"I wouldn't live here," said Narah. "It's much too snobby and it lacks the energy of Third City."

"The smell of the air is much better though," said Kensic taking in a deep breath filled with the scent of spring flowers.

"The queen would not stand for a sewage problem here!" Avor laughed. "Rich people tend to have a strong feeling of entitlement, and they certainly would not tolerate being downwind of rotting sewage!"

"I agree with Narah," said Kensic, "This city has no energy at all. Not even the smell of the air can change that!"

Narah smiled. "We shall live in Third City, Kensic, but only after they fix the sewer problem."

"Where do Levoo's soldiers live?" asked Tevanon.

"Most of them live in the barracks that are built into the walls." Avor gestured to the wall behind them. "To house Levoo's entire military in one of the cities would consume a great deal of space, and that would reduce the tax base."

"King Ker had a brilliant mind," said Kensic.

"Few would disagree."

Castle Ker loomed in the near distance, a six sided fortress of stone built to be a homestead as well as a last defense. It was not surrounded by a moat, but rather by rose bushes, row after row of thick thorny rose bushes that produced a fantastic display of colorful blooms. The walls, while daunting, were not nearly the height of the massive outer wall nor the inner walls that separated the cities within; and the six cylindrical towers, one at each corner of the hexagonal shape, were used only for monitoring First City as they were not tall enough to see beyond the wall separating First City from Second. At the front of the castle there was a gatehouse to ensure that visitors were screened before entering, and in the event of an invasion, it was an additional barrier.

Adjacent to the gatehouse there stood the queen's school of engineering, but there was nothing to identify it as such other than just knowing the building next to the gatehouse was the school of engineering. The squad leader's comment was dead on; it was impossible to miss. Built to look like a cathedral, though not as tall, it had three archways in front. The middle archway was the tallest and stretched up to a bell tower that came to a sharp point at the top. Inside the archways, there was an open area, much like a courtyard, where two long benches filled the space on either side of the large wooden double door entry.

Avor rode closer to a hitching post just off the road then he looked back at his companions. "Shall we go in?"

Kensic nodded. It was not obvious whether he was excited or nervous or both. His expression was neutral as it often was when he was confronted with a situation that typically spawned more emotion, at least in the majority of people. It was possible his emotions were overly stimulated which resulted in a lack of emotion, or that his excitement would swell once they entered the building. Such would not be known, however, until they stepped through the doors.

Avor led the way into a lobby adorned with fanciful Crementan rugs that formed a half circle the width of the building. The walls were decorated with tapestries displaying images from long ago, and between them large square cutouts housed life-sized sculptures that looked down upon all who entered. Centered at the back of the lobby, there was a single wooden desk behind which sat a man wearing a long woolen tunic the color of sand. His thin white hair was a sign of his age, but more so the deep wrinkles in his face. Avor approached him. "Good day, sir."

Tilting his head up slightly, he replied, "Is it?"

Avor's brow furrowed. It was a good question, although not the most common greeting. "I don't quite know how to answer that."

"Then don't." The old man lowered his head as Tevanon stepped forward to address him. "My brother wishes to be an engineer. What must he do to gain entry to this school?"

"Entry is granted to _only_ those who are recommended." The old man's voice was louder now.

"Then I shall recommend him."

The old man laughed. " _You_ cannot make a recommendation to the queen's school of engineering!"

Tevanon's eyes narrowed and his patience was about to expire as anger crept in. Another second and he would have given the old man a piece of his mind; fortunately, Avor spoke first. "Who is permitted to make a recommendation?"

"A recommendation may come from one of the queen's engineers or any number of high ranking military personnel."

"I am a person of high military ranking!"

"Are you now?"

"My name is Avor and I am a member of the Elite Guard of Detoa. My rank in other nations would equal that of Sergeant First Class."

"Good for you!" snapped the old man. "But you're not a sergeant in Levoo's army!"

"Well, no, but certainly Levoo's army would recognize a soldier of another nation."

The old man's bony index finger shot up. "If I were in the military, I suppose I might have an appreciation for other soldiers, but I am an engineer for the queen, and I do not care what rank you hold in your country's military. I care only to admit the best qualified candidates into this school, and those candidates always come with a recommendation from an engineer or high ranking military person from Levoo's army!"

It seemed a rather narrow way to identify good candidates for the school of engineering and especially since Levoo was supposedly the land of opportunity for any person regardless of his or her origins. While Avor and Tevanon grew more irritated, Kensic thought that perhaps the old engineer was just the first obstacle in a much more rigorous test. With this in mind, he stepped forward between his brother and Avor and addressed the apparent gatekeeper to the queen's school of engineering. "Excuse me, sir, my name is Kensic and I am the one Avor and my brother Tevanon want to recommend for entrance to the queen's school of engineering."

The old engineer eyed the boy. "Uh huh."

"You see, sir," continued Kensic, "I have been interested in the design of siege weapons and various other contraptions since I was three or four years old, and when I lived on my uncle's farm I built many clever devices for resolving various problems."

"I'm sure someone is very proud of you."

"You mentioned you are an engineer, and so I believe that your wisdom is not so narrow as you have shown us just now."

"What?"

"Well, to say that the best and most qualified candidates for this school always come by recommendation from one of Levoo's engineers or soldiers is a narrow way to make a selection. There are thousands and thousands of people in Levoo and certainly not all of them have friends or family in the military and likely even less know someone in the queen's corps of engineers. This then suggests that only a small percentage of the total possible candidates for the school of engineering are being considered for entry, and such a method of selection is not logical. Think of how many brilliant minds are passed by using such a method, I mean, it's probably in the thousands. Perhaps that is why there is a sewage problem in Third City, because the best engineers are not given the opportunity to attend the queen's school."

The old engineer sat there with a blank expression on his face, his eyes staring at Kensic. "How old are you?"

"I am nine, sir."

"You don't look older than six!"

Narah shot back, "It's not wise to judge someone by their appearance!"

He looked at Narah. "A good point indeed." Then his eyes drifted back to Kensic. "Alright, young man, since you think you possess the smarts to be accepted into this school, explain the functionality of the Trebuchet."

Kensic smiled proudly. "Of course! I absolutely love the trebuchet! Quite simply it's a sling arm powered by a falling load. I expect, though, you want to know how the modern trebuchet works, not the earlier types that needed men to pull down the lever arm."

The old engineer may have commented but Kensic didn't stop talking, didn't even take a breath before continuing.

"So, you see, it really is a clever invention and quite useful in siege warfare. First, it must be built on a frame, and it is now common for the frame to have wheels so that it's easier to maneuver. Atop the frame and on a fulcrum, a long wooden beam is attached, but it is not attached to be balanced. The side with the sling must be three point seven-five times longer than the counter-weight side otherwise the device will not work at all! Once we have an arm we must attach a sling to it, and the sling must be the same length as the long side of the arm. One side of the sling is permanently attached to the beam, usually through a drilled hole, while the other side has a steel ring that fits over the finger. The finger is a steel bolt attached to the end of the arm; it controls the release angle of the payload and may be adjusted based on the distance to the target."

Kensic took a noticeable breath that barely slowed him down.

"Now that we have the sling side complete we must add a counter-weight to the short side of the arm, and the counter-weight should be seventy to one hundred times the weight of the payload. After all, it's the counter-weight that launches the arm! But first, we must load the sling, well, really the guide chute, but I think you know what I mean."

The old engineer's flat expression hadn't changed, but still, he listened.

"I forgot something, the locking pin that keeps the counter-weight from falling, and it has to pull out rather fast so as not to slow the falling counter-weight. I would use a steel rod for the pin, perhaps attached to a chain that makes for an easy release. While the pin is in place, the sling can be loaded after which the trebuchet can be fired by releasing the rod that is holding the counter-weight. When the rod is removed the counter-weight side of the arm pivots around a much shorter distance than the payload end, so the payload end gains much more speed which then launches the sling. The steel ring slides off the finger at the proper angle and the payload goes flying through the air!"

The old engineer seemed unimpressed as he rubbed his chin. "The trebuchet is too common a device for me to accurately calculate your knowledge."

Tevanon was enraged. "You're being unfair! That was as good an explanation as any engineer could have given!"

"I will decide what is fair and what is not!" The old engineer paused to wait for a rebuttal from Tevanon, but there was none, partly on account of Kensic who placed a hand on his brother's arm in an effort to calm him.

"Now then," continued the old engineer, "if you can accurately explain how water is delivered to Three Cities I will consider granting you admission to the queen's school of engineering."

"Consider!" blurted Tevanon.

Kensic once again squeezed his brother's arm. "It is merely a test, Tevanon, and nothing I cannot handle."

Tevanon held back his rage and allowed Kensic to fight his own battle.

"I am not from Levoo, and I do not know exactly how water is supplied to the many towns and cities, but I expect that it is a similar system to the one used in Lynsid, and that is that water is delivered using a system of aqueducts. It's really quite simple how they work; the idea is to start at higher ground where there is a lot of water and then send it downhill to a holding area, like a pool. Then the water can be sent through terra-cotta pipes to all the areas of a city. Building such a system is much more difficult than it sounds because you have to deal with all sorts of different terrain like mountains and valleys and canyons. In order to maintain a steady downward flow one must use tunnels, bridges and siphons."

"And what do you know of siphons?"

"For use in an aqueduct, it is more important that I know something about inverted siphons."

"What then do you know of the inverted siphon?"

"An inverted siphon makes the shape of a U, and when a U-shaped channel is filled with water the water rises to the same level in both legs. This is how an inverted siphon can be used to move water from one side of a deep valley to the other. All that one must do to ensure success is make sure the exit side of the siphon is slightly lower than the entrance side. I suppose there could also be problems if the channel is cracked or blocked, but such problems should be considered during construction and afterward during regular maintenance."

"That will be enough." The old engineer stood revealing that his tunic fit more like an oversized robe. Then, without saying another word, he shuffled toward the double doors behind him.

Kensic watched him curiously. "I'm almost perfectly certain my explanation was correct."

Tevanon could not hold back anymore. "Sir! There is really no need for such rudeness! Are you not going to tell us if Kensic is accepted into this school?"

The old engineer continued his slow shuffle to the doors, but his right arm raised up with his skeleton-like index finger pointing to the ceiling.

"You would have us wait then?"

Again, there was no reply as the old engineer swung open one of the doors and disappeared.

"This is outrageous!" Tevanon made a fist. "I'm going after him!" The moment he started around the table, Avor stopped him and said, "Take a breath and consider your actions." He chose his words carefully so as not to further enrage Tevanon. "I know you do not want to ruin this opportunity for your brother."

"Of course not! But I also will not stand by while a man as old as the oldest nillet tree acts as though Kensic is not smart enough to be in this school!"

"Tevanon," said Kensic. "Thank you for believing in me. I know that I am smart enough, and I will eventually get into an engineering school whether it is this one or not."

"The soldier we spoke to said there were other engineering schools right here in First City!" said Narah.

"Yes he did, and if I am not admitted here, I shall apply to all of them until I get in!"

"That's the attitude, Kensic!" said Avor. "Never give up!"

Even Tevanon smiled. His brother was a fighter, his weapon not a sword, but rather his intellect. And Tevanon was finally beginning to understand that Kensic did not need him to fight his battles for him. All that Kensic needed was to know that his brother was behind him cheering him on.

When the old engineer had not returned after a short while, Avor took to wandering around the lobby looking at the paintings, sculptures and tapestries that decorated the walls. It wasn't long before the brothers and Narah were doing the same. Eventually, so much time had passed, they'd looked at everything at least a dozen times and likely could have presented a critical review of any piece of art on display! The creaking sound of a heavy door attracted all of their attention and pulled them back to the table where the old engineer was approaching. They waited patiently for him to speak, but he said nothing. Instead, he adjusted his blanket of a tunic then started the slow process of sitting down. Avor tried to help him, but he was shooed away as the old engineer clumsily fell into the chair. With a sigh, he looked up at his audience. "Kensic, I would like you to come back in three days."

"Three days!" blurted Tevanon. A glance from Kensic silenced his fiery emotions.

"May I ask why the delay?" asked Kensic.

"Certainly you may ask," replied the old engineer. "But I am not inclined to answer."

Tevanon's eyes flashed with anger, and he wanted to give the old man a piece of his sword. He did not, of course, and instead, remained outwardly silent.

"Very well," said Kensic, "I will return in three days to speak with you."

"At this same time of day."

"Okay. May I have your name?"

"Felbin."

Kensic nodded then turned to exit. The others followed him out the double doors, and that was when Tevanon cried, "Unbelievable!"

Avor spoke next. "Had there been an explanation for the delay, it might have been easier to understand why Kensic must wait."

"We mustn't dwell on it," said Kensic.

"I agree!" added Narah. "Let's go back to Third City and see what fun we can have!"

# CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Third City was hustling and bustling as it always was, and Narah and Kensic were excited to be back amongst the liveliness of it all. Before anything else, the four companions sought to find a place to stay for the next few nights, and it so happened that the first inn they passed was offering rooms at a price much cheaper than the typical nightly charge. Below a heavily weathered sign that read "Grassy Green Inn" there was a second smaller sign that read "One night, four gold".

"Four gold is cheap for a night at an inn," said Avor.

"It looks to me like you get what you pay for," said Tevanon. His comment was not without reason. The Grassy Green Inn was built of wood and obviously a long time ago because much of it was rotting away. New posts had been riveted to the old posts, but such minimal maintenance was not enough to conceal the rickety appearance. Even more concerning, the Grassy Green Inn was two levels high, and the upper level was in worse condition than the lower, seemingly on the verge of collapse!

"From the looks of it," said Kensic, "I'd say it was built nearly two hundred years ago."

"What makes you think so, Kensic?" asked Avor.

"The roof is built in the Gimley style, low pitch and with long shingles. It was very popular two to three hundred years ago."

"Are you saying this inn is three hundred years old?!" asked Narah.

Kensic shrugged. "It's possible, but I would guess it is closer to one hundred and fifty."

"When did you learn about roofs?" asked Tevanon.

"Ocre took me and Ozzen to see a man named Bennion." He touched his lips. "Bennion lived on the other side of the river in a small hut like ours. He was very old. I've never met anyone as old he was, but he knew a lot about building things and he talked to us about all the different ways to build something!"

"Why was I not there?"

"I remember you saying you'd sooner lop off your arm than spend more time with Ocre."

Narah nodded. "I wasn't even there and I know that's what he said!" She laughed hysterically.

Smiling, Avor reached out and patted Tevanon's shoulder. The man-sized youth's face glazed over glumly as he said, "Yes, that is something I would have said."

"Well then," said Avor, "shall we take a look inside the Grassy Green Inn?"

"I'm up for anything!" shouted Narah.

"There is a stable just past the inn," said Tevanon. "We can leave our horses there."

"For a fee, no doubt," said Avor.

"Nothing is free in this world," said Kensic.

"As always, you speak truth, Kensic."

The four companions paid to stable their horses and returned to the Grassy Green Inn. They pushed open the wobbly wooden door that led to a spacious room with a central hearth that was raised up on large stones. Smoke from the hearth hovered about eventually escaping through the small windows but not rapidly enough to dispel the hazy atmosphere. Near a dozen patrons were present, a few of whom glanced at the newcomers then quickly resumed their conversations.

Narah took a deep breath through her nose. "That is a smell worth savoring!" she said loudly.

"Any smell is better than that of the Third City sewer," said Tevanon.

"Maybe not any," said Avor, "but the smell of a good stew is certainly one of them."

At the back of the room, there was an innkeeper's counter and behind it stood a dark skinned man with a clean-shaven face and head to match. He was not the kind of man one expected to find working at an inn. His height was well above Tevanon and his body was heavily muscled, suggesting he was a soldier or a bodyguard or at the very least, a lumber jack.

Avor leaned on the wooden countertop and smiled at the presumed innkeeper. "Good day. Have you a room suitable for sleeping four?"

"I've only one room vacant, and it has but two beds." The innkeeper's voice was deep and pleasant. "I do not mind, however, if two sleep on the floor."

"I will sleep on the floor," said Kensic from behind his brother.

"As will I," added Narah, "if it saves me some coin." She smiled.

"We will need a room for three nights," said Avor.

"That will be twelve in gold."

As Avor and Tevanon and Narah went digging through their coin pouches, the innkeeper introduced himself. "My name is Kazzy and I am the owner of this establishment. I serve stew all day and into the evening, and I have water and cider to drink. If anyone troubles you, tell me right away. I will not tolerate troublemakers in the Grassy Green Inn."

Both Avor and Tevanon took Kazzy at his word, for when a man large enough to wrestle a bull says he does not tolerate troublemakers, the wise choice was not to make trouble.

Kazzy swiped up the payment of twelve gold coins as he said, "Let me show you to your room."

Another voice interrupted. "Stop right there, Kazzy!" It was a man whose origins were from across the Yallan Ocean, his skin light but more golden than the fair skin of Tevanon and Kensic. His eyes were naturally narrow below a thick brow and his long hair, fashioned into a single braid, was blacker than the depths of the deepest cave. He carried a short sword, as did the four men with him.

"Ah, Muwen," said Kazzy. "I was expecting you."

"Our days of trivial conversation have come to an end," said Muwen, his pronunciation of the words exaggerated in an effort to be precise. "This is the last time you will see her."

"I somehow doubt that." Kazzy held out his arms and smiled. "She loves her father. I can't make her go back to her mother."

"That's why I'm here, and that's why Limaya is leaving Three Cities... with her daughter."

This news was crippling to Kazzy, and his smiling face fell away as though he was suddenly infected with a deathly sickness.

Avor was a quick study when it came to body language and he recognized quickly that Kazzy had been emotionally beaten. "Hold it," said Avor knowing he had no business meddling in this affair. "What are the facts in this matter?"

"This is not your business, stranger!" said Muwen. "I suggest you stay out of it!"

"I welcome an outsider's perspective," said Kazzy, his intent to antagonize Muwen. "The facts are quite simple. Two years ago, Limaya, my wife at the time, left me for a different life. She took with her our daughter, Zikora, who was at the time eleven-years-old. But she did not go far enough, only to Second City, and Zikora has run away many times." Kazzy's eyes beamed at Muwen. "She runs away because her mother mistreats her, isn't that right Muwen?"

"I will not speak to that!"

"You cannot speak to that because it is true!" Kazzy slammed his closed fists on the counter before him.

"Muwen," said Avor, "does Kazzy speak truth?"

"Limaya does not pay me to discuss such matters. I am to ensure the safety of Zikora."

Farther behind Kazzy, there stood a girl at the entry to the cellar. It was hard to say how long she'd been there, but it was long enough to have heard Muwen's comment and to reply rather pointedly. "You are paid to ensure that I do not run away, and you do a poor job of it!" Her bold statement grabbed everyone's attention and made clear that she was Zikora, daughter of Limaya and Kazzy, and the reason for Muwen's visit. All eyes remained on her as she strode forward, her hair of long black curls following like a majestic cloud.

Tevanon's heart was racing. He'd seen many girls his age, but none had mesmerized him in such a way that the rest of world did not exist. There was only Zikora, her light-brownish skin radiant; her deep brown eyes hypnotizing; the curves of her cheeks and chin flawless. Even with her lips pursed in anger and her brow furrowed with discontent, she stole away Tevanon's breath. She was the kind of beautiful he reserved for only goddesses, but yet, here she was standing in the flesh not much more than the distance of his outstretched arm.

"I will not go with my mother," said Zikora glaring at Muwen. "She does not own me. I am as free as anyone in Levoo, and I will not be treated as though I'm a slave!"

"You are barely thirteen, Zikora," said Muwen, "and you do not fully understand the consequences of your choices."

"My choices, whether right or wrong, are for me to make, and I choose _not_ to let my mother arrange a marriage for me!"

"What?" blurted Kazzy, appalled by this new information. "She has arranged for you to be married?"

Zikora looked at her father, teardrops on the verge of sliding down her cheeks. "Yes, father! To a man in Ivanae!"

"Do not be so dramatic!" Muwen was louder now. "You are to wed a wealthy nobleman—"

"Who is older than my father!"

"I will not stand for this!" shouted Kazzy as his eyes met with Muwen's. "Tell Limaya there will be no marriage! Zikora is staying with me!"

"I will do no such thing," replied Muwen. "One way or another, Zikora comes with me."

There was silence for long enough to be uncomfortable; Kazzy and Muwen engaged in a stare down, neither of them of a mind to discuss the matter further.

Then, "If I may ask the lady a question," said Tevanon.

Zikora's face softened when she looked at the man-sized boy. "You may."

"Do you want to stay with your father?"

"Yes."

Tevanon turned to Muwen. "The lady has spoken, and so, I suggest you and your men take leave from this place."

Muwen's laughter was obnoxiously loud and even louder when mixed with the laughter of his companions. "And just who are you to tell me to leave this place?" questioned Muwen.

Tevanon's face turned dark with anger. He hated being the target of laughter, and it was almost instinctual that he raised his sword. "I am Tevanon from Lynsid, and I urge you to put away your swords and leave this place."

"Tevanon from Lynsid," called Kazzy. "Do not start trouble in my inn!"

"I hardly think I'll be the one to start it, but I respect your rules." He placed the longsword on the counter. "However, I will not stand by and let these hounds take Zikora against her will."

Zikora smiled. There was something about this tall boy from Lynsid, something noble and brave, charming and inspirational. Unwanting to reveal her unexpected emotions, she wiped away her smile and returned her expression to something more neutral.

"You leave us no choice," said Muwen, "but to slaughter all of you like pigs." He lunged, his sword leading the way. Tevanon darted sideways just far enough that the blade missed his skin, but not far enough to save his tunic from tearing open. As he repositioned himself, the other four men with Muwen charged into attack mode, and in a fraction of a moment, the chaos of battle had consumed the room.

Kazzy threw himself over the counter and thrust his boot into the stomach of a bearded Irbanian man. A second Irbanian swung his sword and peeled back the skin of Kazzy's right shoulder. Blood gushed, and the innkeeper growled as he spun round to hurl a heavy fist. _CRACK!_ The Irbanian's nose was smashed flat like a roach under a boot.

Behind Kazzy, Avor was fighting off the remaining two men, one who had the look of a man from Detoa, his light brown skin and black hair strikingly similar to that of Avor. The other was a dark skinned man with a scar above his left eye. He was the most dangerous but not because he was a skilled swordsman. It was because of his vigorous fighting style and the way he swung his sword out of control just barely missing skin with each swipe. Despite this, Avor did not attack. He merely blocked the blows as they were thrown. He did not want to disrespect Kazzy's rules when he and his companions still needed a place to sleep after the fighting was done!

Tevanon whipped his leg catching Muwen's feet in midair. The man from across the Yallan Ocean crashed on the wood plank floor and rolled closer to the counter. He stood and raised his sword but failed to see the threat behind him. Suddenly, a hefty pewter mug struck his head, a blow that made him stumble sideways then fall to the floor again.

"Good work, Narah!" shouted Tevanon before pouncing on his fallen enemy and pummeling him with punches.

Behind Tevanon, Kazzy had so far managed to avoid being maimed by the bearded Irbanian's sword, but he was tiring as was evident from the minor wounds that had stained his tunic with blood. Again, the Irbanian thrust his sword, this time much faster, and Kazzy was too slow to react. His fatigue cost him, and his abdomen was split open.

The bearded Irbanian snorted a laugh at the same time raising his sword to finish the innkeeper... but no! Narah smashed him across the head with a clay serving platter! And when the Irbanian twisted round to see his new enemy, Narah pointed past him and shouted, "Look out!" Her warning was dead on. The Irbanian turned back and felt the full power of Kazzy's hammer of a fist. _CRACK!_ It was a skull crushing punch that rendered the bearded Irbanian unconscious.

"Tevanon!" shouted Narah. "Avor's in trouble!"

It was true. Avor was backed up to the wall, the remaining two men prepared to slice him to pieces.

Kazzy gestured to the unconscious Muwen. "I'll take care of this one," he said as he grabbed Tevanon's sword and held the handle toward the boy from Lynsid. "Rules are meant to be broken."

Tevanon grabbed the sword and dashed to help Avor. With masterful precision, he killed one man and severed the other's arm. As the one-armed man ran for the door, Avor said, "That was interesting."

The show was over and the few patrons of the inn quickly went back to their business as Kazzy dragged Muwen on top of the bearded Irbanian. "I will stack them here and the army can have them." He signaled to a slender man standing in a shadowed area of the inn. The man nodded then darted out the door. "That is Slinny. He'll notify the nearest squad."

Zikora was suddenly beside her father. "Are you alright? You're bleeding from everywhere!"

"Relax, darling. I've been worse off." Kazzy smiled. "Although, had these do-gooders not been here, things may have turned out differently."

Tevanon and Avor were dragging the dead Detoan man to the pile. "It was no trouble," said Tevanon.

"Oh, there was trouble," said Kazzy lightheartedly.

Tevanon chuckled.

"Now that we've established our friendship, I am Avor." He reached out to Kazzy and shook the innkeeper's hand. "This is Tevanon. That is Narah. And..." He looked around. "Where is Kensic?"

A hand shot up from behind the counter. "Right here!" He walked speedily around the counter so he could be seen. In his hands, he held a small wood and wire contraption. "Is this a device for trapping small animals?"

"A lot of mice wish to live here," said Kazzy, "but I do not approve."

"This doesn't work very well, does it?"

"Not like I was hoping, but then, I made it myself—"

"I will make you a better one." Kensic wandered off to a nearby table.

Kazzy watched the boy curiously, his expression changing only when Avor began to speak. "Do not be deceived by his age. Kensic is more intelligent than most grown men."

"If he can rid my inn of rats, I'll be grateful." He gestured to his daughter. "As you know, this is my daughter, Zikora."

With a slight bow, Tevanon said, "It is an honor."

"I am pleased to meet you Tevanon," said Zikora. "And you Avor. I thank you both for helping me and my father."

"It was our pleasure. Isn't that right Avor?"

Avor was caught off guard. "Yes, yes... our pleasure." His curiosity had found a place with Tevanon's interest in Zikora. The boy had taken on a most chivalrous manner. Perhaps the cure for his brash temper and misdirected anger was this girl.

"I hope that I will see you again," said Zikora, her eyes still committed to Tevanon.

"We are staying here for a few nights," said Tevanon. "Perhaps, if it's okay with your father, we could share a meal."

At the table where Kensic was dismantling the mousetrap, Narah sat beside him, but her attention was not on Kensic. She, like Avor, was curious about Tevanon's gentle interest in Zikora. It wasn't difficult to see that he'd been acting different ever since she entered the room. "What do you think of all this?"

Kensic didn't look up. "All what?"

Narah slapped his shoulder and he jumped. "What?!"

"Your brother is quite taken with Zikora!"

"I assure you Tevanon has no interest in girls." Kensic swiveled his head to look at his brother. Much to his surprise, Tevanon did seem quite taken with Zikora. He listened for a moment.

"I have known Tevanon for only a short time," said Avor, "but he is one of the most upstanding young men I've known, and his skill with a sword is beyond that of most grown men."

"I have no reason to distrust you, Tevanon," said Kazzy. "If Zikora wishes to spend time with you then I will respect her choice." He smiled. "Although, I would prefer that you stay at the inn...to appease a father's worry." Laughter belted from his mouth.

Kensic turned back to Narah. "You are right. I know very little about courtship, but it does appear that my brother is quite taken with Zikora."

"Perhaps falling in love will help him to better control his anger."

"He has been doing better, but maybe Zikora is just what he needs." Kensic smiled. "He can barely stand you!"

Narah frowned. "That is not completely my fault."

"True. I guess we will see what happens."

"Indeed." Narah set her chin on a closed fist. "I suppose you and I will have to look after each other now that Tevanon has a sweetheart."

Kensic was back to work on the mousetrap. "I'm not worried. You are my sister, Narah."

She smiled, but not for the obvious reason. Yes, Kensic had called her his sister, but he said it so casually as if it had always been that way. With a feeling of contentedness, she watched Tevanon and Zikora begin what might become something more than just a friendship. At that same moment, a squad of soldiers entered the inn, and the sorting out of Muwen and his henchmen began.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kensic was up very early the next morning even despite that he was up very late building a new mousetrap for Kazzy. With the trap in hand, he hurried to show the innkeeper. "Kazzy!" he called, his excitement bubbling. "If I may bother you for just a moment!"

"Well, what is it, boy?!"

Kensic placed the mousetrap on the counter. "This design is guaranteed to work, but the result is not for those with a weak stomach."

"Show me."

Kensic pointed to a narrow platform that was slightly longer than half the length of a man's forearm. "See how the platform slants up? You put food there to attract a mouse and when he walks up the platform, his weight will push the platform onto this wire and then because the wire is attached to a small spear, the spear is forced downward in a stabbing motion."

"It spears the mouse?" asked Kazzy now very curious about the new contraption.

"Exactly."

Kazzy laughed loudly. "You are a genius! Can you make more of them?"

"If you have more wood and wire."

"I do, and I'll get it right away!"

From the moment Kazzy delivered the materials, Kensic spent the day happily building more mousetraps. Narah helped for a while, mainly cutting wire to the proper length. Then she took to exploring Third City, an adventure that kept her out until sunset. Avor went on a similar journey; however, his was more targeted. Rather than touring the city, he went in search of information that might lead him to the Jewel of Detoa. Unfortunately, when he returned to the inn that evening, he had no more information than he did when he left in the morning. Tevanon spent his day collecting information as well, but about one person, Zikora. The two of them stayed at the inn and helped Kazzy with many of the daily chores such as preparing food and cleaning up after guests. All the while, the two of them learned quite a bit about each other, and it seemed their fast friendship was indeed moving in the direction of courtship.

When it was finally time to sleep, the four companions found their second night at the inn to be much more restful than the first, and this was a good thing because on the eve of the third night an unwelcome guest arrived at the Grassy Green Inn. She was Irbanian, most evident from her sand-colored skin and thick black hair, but her dress was also a common Irbanian style, long and white with sleeves to her elbows.

Kazzy darted out from behind the counter. "You are not welcome here, Limaya!"

The commotion attracted the attention of Avor and Tevanon, Zikora, Narah, and Kensic.

"I know I am not welcome here!" Limaya was stern; harsh was her glare. "I wish only to make clear a few things and then I shall be on my way!"

"That is why you brought a mercenary?" Kazzy was referring to the man beside her, a brawny man with swords and knives hanging off him as if he was a rack for weapons.

Limaya gestured to the man at her side. "Idwei is my personal bodyguard. I am not here to start trouble, nor was that my intent when I sent Muwen to get Zikora."

"Liar! Muwen had no other intent but to start trouble!"

"The trouble he delivered was not at my request! I did not order him to attack you or anyone else! He made that choice of his own accord!"

"Maybe so, but still, the men you sent were combatants and they had only one goal, to take back Zikora no matter what. Had I been killed you would not have had another thought about me!"

"You are right. I no longer care for you as I once did, and had you been killed, it would have been much easier for me to accomplish what it is I'm trying to do."

"Other than control your daughter's life, what is it you're trying to do?"

"You must know by now that an attack is coming, and soon."

"Yes, yes, there's an army positioned at the northern border."

"Not just any army..." Limaya's expression remained stern but there was darkness in the way she spoke. "It is the Army of Pundoe."

Kazzy snorted before bursting into laughter.

Avor was quickly up from his seat and standing beside Kazzy. He had a questioning gaze as he asked Limaya, "You know this to be true?" It wasn't that he believed the Army of Pundoe was real, but rather that he wasn't certain it was not.

"It is true, and they will tear down Three Cities in the same way they destroyed all of Turlot. There will be few survivors if any, and Levoo will fall into ruin. That is why I've arranged our daughter to be married to a man in Ivanae. She will be safe there. She will be alive."

"But at what cost?" asked Kazzy. The answer came from his daughter as she approached from the nearby table. "Too high a cost! If I am not free to make my own choices then I am already dead!"

"You don't know what you're saying!" shouted Limaya.

"I am saying that I'd rather die in Three Cities than be alive in Ivanae and married to a man I've never met!"

"I did not come here to start trouble, and so, I will not argue with you, Zikora. I am saddened by your reckless decision making and even more so that your father allows it, but I accept your choice to die. Perhaps this is the will of the gods and there is nothing I can do to stop it."

"Or perhaps Three Cities will resist the Army of Pundoe," said Tevanon now standing beside Zikora.

"You are as foolish as my daughter. The Army of Pundoe is immortal, controlled by Oxra magic. No living creature can stop them."

"There are gods who favor mortals," said Tevanon, "and because of that, we the mortals can find a way to beat the Army of Pundoe, the same as King Ker found a way to defeat the sorcerer Akarid."

Limaya laughed. "Ker didn't defeat Akarid, he merely delayed the inevitable."

"We shall see."

"I shall see while the lot of you will be dead." Her eyes found Zikora. "I bid you farewell my daughter, and I am sorry you were not born to be more like your mother. Such an outcome would have been an easier life for both us."

Limaya took leave of the inn, her bodyguard close behind her.

"I will miss her," said Zikora.

"So will I," said Kazzy, the memories of happier times vibrant in his mind's eye. He turned to Avor. "Do you believe what she said about the Army of Pundoe?"

"On our journey to Three Cities, we met a few others who insisted the Army of Pundoe has been resurrected." Avor shook his head. "I don't know what to believe."

"We've also heard that Akarid may be part of whatever is going on," said Kensic.

"Really?" questioned Kazzy.

"Yes."

Avor added, "It seems Akarid may have returned from whatever dark place he was lurking."

"And he brought with him the Army of Pundoe," said Kazzy.

"It's not impossible, just improbable."

"What exactly is the Army of Pundoe?" asked Zikora.

"If I may," said Kensic.

"The stage is yours, young man," said Avor.

Kensic proceeded to tell the tale of the Army of Pundoe, how they came to be and how they can be controlled through sorcery. Zikora listened with interest but also with concern, and when Kensic was done, she said, "Then my mother was not lying."

Avor said, "It is not so much whether she was lying, but rather, is the source of her information reliable."

"I will say this about Limaya," said Kazzy, "she has never been one to believe in nonsensical folklore, and while I came to recognize her affinity for leaving out bits of information, she was never a liar."

"I would agree," said Zikora. "She never lied to me; she just didn't tell me everything. And that means there is a deadly immortal army waiting to invade Three Cities."

"If we are to believe Limaya and the others," said Avor, "then it is true the Army of Pundoe is planning an attack, and it is likely the sorcerer Akarid is giving the orders."

Zikora seemed in a daze, lost in the idea that she very well may die. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder. "If you wish to get away from here, there is still time to join your mother."

She looked at her father, a spark in her eyes. "No, father. I meant what I said. I would rather die than let Mother control my life." For a moment, her eyes darted away. "It's just that I didn't believe her to be telling the truth, and now that I know she likely was, I'm just not sure I'm ready to die."

Kensic moved closer to Zikora so that he was directly in front of her. "What I'm about to say will probably not mean much to you, but since you seem to be fond of my brother, I shall say it anyway in hopes that it brings you some relief." He held out his hand in gesture of Tevanon. "My brother will not let us die. He is a great warrior and he is favored by Arwaan."

"Arwaan? The god of morality and freedom?"

"Yes!" Kensic was excited that Zikora knew his god. "Do you pray to him as well?"

"No, but I pray to Craneen who long ago formed an alliance with Arwaan."

"I used to think the gods did not listen to the prayers of mortals, that maybe they didn't care about us at all." Kensic scratched his head. "But then something happened to Tevanon, something only the gods could have done. After that, I knew that Arwaan was listening and watching, and I knew that he favored my brother."

"That is good news. It sounds as though we will need all the help we can get to defeat Akarid and the Army of Pundoe."

"And that means getting some rest," said Avor. "Especially you Tevanon, for you are our savior." He laughed playfully.

"I've an urge to punch you in the mouth," said Tevanon. "But I shall not, for I am a patient savior."

Narah burst into laughter. "Now that's funny!" Kensic and Avor laughed with her, for it was not often that Tevanon made a joke about himself.

Kazzy and Zikora were not in on the joke, but the laughter of their new friends made them smile. "Joyful laughter is a blissful thing to witness!" said Kazzy.

Zikora squeezed her father in a hug. "Do you think we'll be alright?"

Kazzy's smile fizzled. "I hope so."

For most of them, it was an early night, especially for Kensic who had a meeting the next day that would determine his entry into the queen's school of engineering. Zikora, on the other hand, struggled to sleep. Her thoughts wrangled around the Army of Pundoe and the coming attack. She was afraid of what might happen but not so afraid that she wished to be with her mother. She plainly wanted everything to be okay, but her attempt to remain positive was interrupted by thoughts of uncertainty, which were not pleasant. She was also curious of what Kensic had said about Tevanon, that he was a great warrior favored by the god Arwaan. Were this true, then perhaps everything would be okay, but this was not the first time she was told something that turned out to be a tall tale. In time, she would know for sure.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

At the border of Turlot and Levoo, the cursed soldiers of the Army of Pundoe stood in strict rows atop the grassy terrain. They were waiting for their general to give the order to attack, but thus far, the order had not come. Fifty paces affront them Dooma spoke to his sixteen remaining knights.

"The sweet taste of victory is on my tongue," said Dooma glancing around at the men who had been loyal to him since he was a lord. "Thank you for your service. Upon the completion of Akarid's plan we will reclaim our rightful place in this world and perhaps it will be something greater than it was before!"

The knights cheered with raised swords and as their cheers faded, they found themselves in the company of Akarid and General Boveeriun. Dooma eyed the two men or beings or whatever they were, but he could not read either of their expressions, and so he made no attempt to guess at what was their business with him this time.

"Dooma," called Akarid. "It is time."

Nothing more needed to be said. The attack on Levoo was about to begin, and Dooma could barely conceal his pleasure. He was on the verge of his revenge.

* * *

On the morning of Kensic's big day, he sat beside Narah eating bread and drinking cider. They were discussing the disposition of the Hoppensing fruit bat, a small furry gray creature that was first discovered in the northwest region known as Hoppensing.

"Fruit bats do not attack people," said Kensic.

"But they do!" said Narah.

"It is more likely that the bat was frightened when you entered the hut."

"I was the one frightened! That evil little beast plucked several hairs right out from my head!"

Kensic looked at Narah with a dubious expression. Just then, Kazzy interrupted. "Good luck to you, Kensic."

"Thank you, Kazzy."

"If your mousetraps are any indication of your abilities, the queen's school will not be able to turn you away!"

As Kazzy wandered back to the counter, Tevanon and Avor approached the table. "Are you ready to go to First City?" asked Tevanon.

Kensic lowered his head and took a breath as though he were contemplating how to respond. With a somewhat regretful expression, he looked up at his brother. "I would like for Narah to go with me, just Narah."

Tevanon did not speak at first. He took a moment to gain control of his emotions. "Alright."

"Please don't be upset with me. It will be less distracting for me if only she is there."

"Are we that distracting?" asked Avor.

"Not in a way that I don't want to be around you," said Kensic, "but things seem to happen around the two of you, and I would prefer to keep those things far away from my chance to go to the queen's school."

Avor laughed. "You mean things like the brawl the other night?"

"Well, yes, and many other things like the raiders in Turlot or the beast men in Ogendall, and there was the horse dealer in Enwin."

Tevanon nodded. "Those things did happen." He chuckled. "Go with Narah and claim your place in the engineering school."

"I will do just that!" Kensic stood to hug his brother.

"And when you come back we will celebrate!" said Avor as he gave Kensic a pat on the back.

"Shall we go then?" asked Narah.

"We shall!" said Kensic showing signs of his excitement.

Narah picked up her longbow and followed Kensic to the door. Tevanon called behind her. "Narah! Watch him closely, I've only one brother."

Narah's eyebrows lifted. "I've two brothers, but I am more fond of the younger." She smiled then slipped out the door behind Kensic.

Tevanon glanced at Avor. "She really is irritating."

"Sisters often are."

* * *

The roads of Third City were crowded as usual, but there was steady movement in both directions as people made their way to their destinations. Kensic and Narah were no exception. They were on their way to the queen's school of engineering, but along the way, there was much to look at and to smell.

"It seems like they could work a little faster to fix the sewer stink!" said Narah wriggling her nose.

"Perhaps the problem is more complex than they thought," said Kensic.

Narah pointed to a boy picking through a pile of old and dirty rags. "What do you suppose he's doing?"

Kensic watched the boy separate the rags into two new piles. "I don't know, but there's one way to find out." He took Narah by the hand and they veered closer to the boy. "If I may bother you for a moment."

The boy, not much older than Kensic, looked up and said, "Alright, what is it?"

"What are you doing?"

"I'm pickin' through the old rags to find the ones that still be good."

"Interesting."

"So you're a ragpicker?" asked Narah.

"I am, but I like bein' called a ragsorter." He went back to work as Narah gently pulled Kensic into the flow of people traffic.

"There are so many jobs in the world," said Narah.

"Most of them I would not want to do," said Kensic. "Like picking rags—" He pointed farther ahead. "Or making brooms!"

"I do agree, but it is fun to see what other people are doing!"

Continuing on, they passed by a fruitier selling apples and peaches, a pie maker peddling berry tart, an apothecary with the cure for everything and a collier filling buckets with coal. Farther along, a bard sang to the tune of his lute, a cobbler repaired an old pair of sandals and two masons built a stone bench affront the tanner's shop. There was so much to see it was impossible to take it all in, and that was what Narah and Kensic liked most about Third City; the everyday bustle produced a vibrant energy that could not be ignored.

Second City was as busy as Third City until they reached the area of wealthy abodes. From that point forward the traffic was cut in half, which made things much less exciting.

Narah glanced round at the stone dwellings with spacious gardens and fanciful gazebos. "Should you ever earn more wealth than you know what to do with, do you suppose you'd live in a house like these?"

"It's an interesting question." Kensic thought for a moment. "I prefer the busyness of Third City, but if I were rich, I tend to think I would live in Second City where these large abodes neighbor the over-dwellings of the more common folk."

"I am of like mind."

Suddenly there were horns; the loudest horns that Narah and Kensic had ever heard!

"What in Levoo is that?!" questioned Narah.

Kensic looked around. "It sounds like a war horn."

"Do you think it's the coming attack?"

Kensic aimed his gaze upward to the top of the wall surrounding Second City. His eyes found three soldiers blowing into large brass horns, and farther along the wall, three more trumpeters could be seen.

"Make way for the army!" shouted a man easily identified as a squad leader. "Three Cities is under siege!" Behind him, dozens of soldiers marched on a path to Second City.

Kensic and Narah, and many others, moved to the side of the road where they watched the soldiers pass.

"Should we go back?" asked Kensic.

"No," answered Narah. "You must not miss your meeting with Felbin."

* * *

Tevanon stood atop a wooden stool so that he could easily reach the area above the front door of the Grassy Green Inn. He was securing the existing header board with a new board and just as he was going to hammer in the first iron spike, Avor said, "Don't place the spike too close to the edge."

"I know what I'm doing!" shouted Tevanon as he swung the hammer.

"Calm yourself, Tevanon; I didn't realize you had carpentry skills."

Tevanon stepped down from the stool. "Why would I offer to make repairs if I don't know what I'm doing?"

"I thought it might be a way to impress Zikora."

Tevanon's eyes were daggers. "Yes, since I'm brilliant with a sword I wish to impress her with how I swing a hammer!"

Avor laughed just a little. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to irritate you."

"Tevanon!" The voice was recognizable, but Tevanon could not place it, not until he turned and saw Ohvee the mystic.

"Did you follow us here?" asked Tevanon.

"Not exactly," replied Ohvee as he shuffled closer. "My physical limitations make traveling quite difficult." The physical limitations he spoke of were obvious to see. Ohvee was hunched over like a wilting flower, and his right foot was twisted almost backwards.

"I can see that you have trouble walking and likely cannot ride a horse, but I see no reason why you could not ride in a carriage."

"I could indeed, but I prefer to travel by the gods' will!"

"Of course," said Avor realizing the identity of the hunched over man. "You are Ohvee the mystic!"

"I'm flattered you know of me, and you might be surprised I know of you!"

"Eh, not so much. Mystics are a mysterious breed."

"Yes we are, Avor!" Ohvee smiled a crooked smile that vanished quickly. "I can tell you where to find your lost diamond."

"What?"

"It is with the sorcerer Akarid!"

"Nonsense!"

"It may not be," said Tevanon. "I once thought that mystics like Ohvee were nothing but crazy people wandering the land, but given my own experiences, I have changed my mind."

Avor eyed Tevanon. "I'm curious to know more, but in the moment, I shall listen to Ohvee."

Ohvee promptly started talking again. "Akarid needs the Jewel of Detoa and the Jewel of the East to rain death upon Levoo! And then upon all the lands!"

It made perfect sense. Avor remembered the pirates that sprang an attack on them near the Northland Mountain Pass, and the one pirate survivor telling him he was working for Akarid. While that might have been Akarid's first attempt to steal the jewel, it is also possible the two highwaymen who held Kensic captive were also working for Akarid. Regardless, both attempts failed and that was when the sorcerer sent a squad of highly skilled knights to hijack the Elite Guard. Avor was the only survivor of that attack, but he was not able to protect the jewel. Now Akarid had the jewel and his intent was to use it in a formula of Oxra magic that would crumble Levoo.

Avor crossed his arms. "That is a logical explanation considering other information I've gathered."

"The pirate in Lynsid mentioned Akarid, did he not?" asked Tevanon.

"He did, and even if Ohvee is lying or just plain wrong, I must trust his word and make every effort to recover the jewel and return it home."

"It is not me you are trusting but rather the gods!" said Ohvee. "I repeat only what they speak!"

"Is that why you are here?" asked Tevanon. "To tell Avor where to find the Jewel of Detoa?"

"No, no! I was sent with a different purpose!" Clutched in the grip of both his hands was a large canvas sack that he turned upside down to empty its contents.

Tevanon could hardly believe his eyes! It was the olive green Lynsidian armor he purchased in Irdon; the armor that melted off his skin during his altercation with the god Trystevog. Skeptical, he eyed Ohvee. "Are you trying to trick me?"

"Not at all! Arwaan favors you! But then, you already knew that."

Tevanon turned to Avor. "I bought this armor from an Irbanian woman who seemed too eager to sell it. Days later the armor nearly burned me alive, and were it not for Arwaan I would be dead."

With eyes on the armor, Avor asked, "What do you mean the armor nearly burned you alive?"

Tevanon lifted the armor to examine it. "As Kensic and I traveled through the Forest of Great Trees, this armor turned to a scalding hot liquid that burned my skin to the bone! And then I was confronted by Trystevog—"

"God of the in-between?"

"Yes, and that is why I can no longer question the word of mystics. I myself have spoken to a god."

"That is why you suggested I trust Ohvee."

"Yes."

"And you are certain you spoke to Trystevog?"

"There is no other explanation for what happened to me." He shook the armor making the buckles rattle. "Trystevog wanted my soul and to get it he tried to convince me that Arwaan had rejected me!"

Avor placed a hand on Tevanon's shoulder. "I believe you, Tevanon, although I'm not sure many would."

"That is why I never spoke of it, but now Ohvee is here and with the armor that Trystevog stole from me."

Ohvee interjected, "Arwaan and the other gods have been watching you for some time, Tevanon. They have gone so far as to compare you to King Ker! The armor you hold is no longer cursed by Trystevog. Arwaan made sure of it, and he asked that I deliver it to you before the battle. "

Suddenly there were horns, and Avor knew exactly what they meant. "Three Cities is under attack!"

Choosing to trust Ohvee he put on the olive green armor of Lynsid and quickly fastened the front buckles.

The horns continued to sound.

"Akarid has control of the Army of Pundoe," said Ohvee. "No mortal can stop the Army of Pundoe!"

"Save the doomsday predictions for another time!" Avor grabbed the mystic by the arm and pulled him inside the inn. Right behind them was Tevanon.

"I will make sure Kazzy keeps you safe," Avor said to Ohvee.

"Ah, the innkeeper Kazzy! Yes, he's a fine man!"

Zikora wrapped Tevanon in a hug. "I fear the worst!"

"There is no time for fear," replied Tevanon. "Have you a place to hide?"

"Yes!"

"Take Ohvee and your father and remain in hiding until I return."

"Where are you going?"

"I have to find my brother." Uttering no other words, Tevanon and Avor hurried out the door of the Grassy Green Inn.

"I hope they survive," said Zikora.

Ohvee closed his eyes. "No one survives the Army of Pundoe."

Zikora said nothing. She only stared at the door where Tevanon and Avor had just exited.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The arrows of Levoo's archers darkened the sky over the valley below that was filled with the soldiers of the Army of Pundoe. They met in a violent collision that typically saw men falling dead to the ground. Not so this time. The non-living soldiers were unharmed by the barrage of sharpened arrows, and they were unharmed by the heavy boulders launched from giant trebuchets. They could not be stopped and worry began to flood the ranks of Levoo's military.

"The wall will keep them out!" shouted the squad leader standing above the raised up drawbridge.

The soldiers of the Army of Pundoe splashed through the moat and began their strategy of building ladders using themselves. One soldier on the shoulders of another and so and so on until they were at the top of the massive wall. Then the slaughter began. Non-living soldiers swiftly sliced through the mortal men of Levoo leaving behind blood and death.

"Fall back!" shouted the squad leader. "We must strengthen our ranks!"

"It will not matter!" said a nearby soldier. "We are fighting dead men and dead men cannot be slain!"

"Just follow ord—" The soldier he was speaking to was sliced in half and it was then that he learned just what they were facing. "It can't be," he mumbled as he engaged the grotesque man-corpse in combat. His sword found what should have been flesh, but there was no blood. Awe struck, the squad leader stepped back and the non-living soldier's blade severed his arm. Another swipe and he was no longer among the living.

* * *

By the time Narah and Kensic reached the gate to First City, the portcullis had already been lowered. After failing to convince the nearest squad leader to let them through, they accepted that they would have to wait out the battle before they could reach the queen's school of engineering. Kensic sat down and leaned against the wall. "I hope being late will not disqualify me."

Narah sat next to him. "It had better not! This attack is not at all your fault!"

"That is logical, but who can say what Felbin might think."

"You make a good point." Narah plucked her bowstring. "I think it best not to worry about."

"Alright then, what shall we do while we wait?"

Narah's eyes opened wide. "We shall take turns telling stories from our lives, and I shall start!"

Kensic did not object. Telling stories was a good way to pass the time, and he fully anticipated Narah's stories to be very entertaining.

* * *

Tevanon and Avor ran at full speed toward the gate to Second City. They had to hurry before the army lowered the portcullis in an effort to stop the invaders, an effort that would not work. Pushing their way through the crowded streets of panicked citizens, they finally came into view of the gate and could see the portcullis coming down. Avor charged ahead as fast as his legs would carry him. "Open the portcullis!" he roared, but to no avail; the portcullis slammed shut.

"Open the portcullis!" Avor said again.

"Do not give me orders, commoner!" replied one of the soldiers. "I am operating in the best interest of Three Cities!"

Rushing up to the massive gate, Avor practically thrust his head through one of the square openings. "No portcullis or wall or any other man made obstruction can stop what's coming!"

The soldier on the inside snickered. "And just what is coming?"

From beside Avor, Tevanon shouted, "The Army of Pundoe!"

The soldier, now joined by several companions, eyed the man-sized youth. "Jokes are for the queen's court!"

"He is not joking," replied Avor, "so I suggest you open the portcullis to improve the chances of saving Three Cities."

"Who are you to give me orders?! Move along and let me do my job!"

Tevanon could no longer control his anger and he threw himself against the gate. "Open this portcullis or so help me I will slay you like a bull for the queen's feast!"

The soldier laughed but his laughter was cut off by a chorus of deathly screams.

Avor turned to see people scrambling in every direction and then he saw what most people believed to be folklore. They were the non-living soldiers of the Army of Pundoe, their pale skin decayed and grotesque. With a brutal viciousness, they tore through the crowd slaying all in their path, setting aflame every structure.

Avor slapped Tevanon's shoulder. "The Army of Pundoe is here!"

Tevanon reached for the longsword strung over his back, his eyes focused on the atrocity only a few hundred paces in front of him. Blood and death, that was all he could see as the non-living soldiers slew men and women and children for no other reason than because they were there.

The soldier inside the portcullis stared out at the non-living soldiers. He was in a haze of disbelief as were the soldiers standing around him.

Avor made one last attempt to sway the soldier's decision. "You see what we're faced against, and you know that a wall nor a gate nor Levoo's army can stop them. All we can do is slow them long enough to allow others to escape. Raise the portcullis so we are not cutting ourselves off from reinforcements."

The soldier of Levoo snapped out of his glossy-eyed gaze. "I was ordered to close the portcullis, and I cannot defy an order from my squad leader."

With a nod, Avor replied, "Very well, I respect your commitment to the chain of command." He looked at Tevanon. "This may be it for you and me."

"Not without a fight," said Tevanon.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Tevanon smiled. "Let us teach these dead men a lesson they shall never forget!" With a silent prayer to Arwaan, Tevanon charged ahead to where a company of Levoo's troops were combating the non-living soldiers of the Army of Pundoe. Swords clashed violently and a bloody mist stained the air. The mortal men of Levoo were slain left and right. They were no match for the soldiers who could not die.

Then, there was hope.

Tevanon sliced through the arm of a non-living soldier and bright red blood gushed from the wound... but that could not be. The soldiers of the Army of Pundoe did not bleed; they did not feel pain. For they were non-living creatures cursed by Oxra magic and trapped in the in-between where they were to suffer for all eternity. Tevanon swung his sword again lopping off the head of this already dead soldier. The helmeted head fell and more blood spilled as the headless body lurched. This non-living soldier was as dead as any mortal, and the sight of his fallen body caught the attention of those fighting nearby.

Avor fell back, "You didn't tell me you could kill these immortal creatures."

"I didn't know," replied Tevanon.

"It seems you truly are favored by Arwaan."

A non-living soldier came at Tevanon and he sliced him dead. "I am but one and they are in the thousands! It won't be long before they overwhelm me!"

Avor ducked under a sword swipe. "You make a good point!" He thrust his sword into the chest of the non-living soldier, but as was expected, nothing happened.

Tevanon intervened, and his attack left the soldier dead.

"You may only be one," said Avor, "but at least we have that."

"I suppose you're right."

The fighting came to a lull, but only because the non-living soldiers started for the wall protecting Second City and they quickly assembled their ladders.

Tevanon and Avor raced back to the portcullis to try and convince the soldier of Levoo to raise it. On the way, they were stopped by a squad leader, his purple sash the obvious indicator. "I saw what you can do," he said to Tevanon. "And only you can stop the Army of Pundoe!"

"But how?" asked Tevanon. "There are too many for me to fight them all!"

"All you must do is kill their leader, General Boveeriun. When he dies, the curse will be broken and the non-living soldiers will cease to exist!"

"Their souls will be free," said Avor.

"Exactly. Free to rest in peace."

"How do I find General Boveeriun?" asked Tevanon.

"You will find him soon enough! His leather armor is decorated with red flames!" The squad leader shouted to the soldier inside the portcullis. "Raise the portcullis!"

"Yes sir!" replied the soldier.

As the portcullis started to lift, a dozen non-living soldiers rushed toward it.

"Guard my flanks," said Tevanon. "And I will kill them all!" His jaw tightened and his sword swung into action easily slaying the first two attackers. The odds were still with the enemy, but Tevanon was not interested in odds. He fought with rage, and yet with patience, and with help from Avor and the squad leader, he killed the remaining non-living soldiers. Unfortunately, not even his amazing ability with a sword was enough to prevent the death of the squad leader that fought beside him. Nor was it enough to save Avor from a bloody injury to his left arm.

"I'm not so fond of fighting things I cannot kill," said Avor glancing at his new wound.

"I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough," said Tevanon. He looked at the dead squad leader. "I hope what he said is right."

"There is but one way to find out," said Avor, a roguish smile on his face.

"We must not delay!"

# CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"I landed on the back of the Borksher Bear and rode him all the way out of the forest!"

Kensic eyed Narah with slight skepticism. "You rode on the back of a bear?"

"Not on purpose, but yes, that's what happened!" said Narah her eyes wide with excitement. "And not just any bear, a Borksher Bear! They're absolutely huge! Even bigger than horses!"

"Tevanon once rode a Gettling Moose, and they are huge but they are usually quite tame. A bear is, well, not usually as friendly!"

Narah smiled. "It's not as though he offered me a ride! I fell on him likely scaring the wits out of him and he ran like a frightful booraw!"

Kensic smiled. "So how did you get off him?"

"Eventually he threw me off! And I had to kick him in the nose to get away! Even then, I almost did not escape and might well have been eaten if there hadn't been a river very nearby." Narah leaned closer to Kensic. "Borksher Bears hate water so I dove into the river and swam downstream!"

"You really are very much like Tevanon."

"Well, even Tevanon has a few good qualities." She smiled.

During the time that Narah and Kensic were talking, a company of soldiers had arrived to defend the gate that led to First City. Kensic gestured to them. "I don't think they believe they're fighting the Army of Pundoe?"

"It is a tall tale," said Narah.

"Not all the old tales are tall."

"Yes, like the Irbanian beast-men!"

Kensic nodded. "It seems like Levoo's army would prepare for the worst thing possible."

"How do you prepare for fighting soldiers who are already dead?"

"Hmm...that is a good point."

As Narah looked farther down the road, she saw the disturbing reality that was the Army of Pundoe and they were approaching fast. "Uh oh," she uttered. "If that is not the Army of Pundoe they surely are the most vile looking men I've ever seen!"

Kensic agreed but he was focused on something else. "How do you suppose they got over the first two walls?"

"Who cares!" replied Narah. "We must hide if we want to live!"

"Calm down. I already have a plan."

If there was one person Narah trusted in the world, it was Kensic. And so, she listened to his plan for escaping death at the hands of the non-living soldiers that were quickly overwhelming the unprepared army of Levoo.

* * *

Dooma sat upon his black stallion, his loyal knights behind him. In front of him was the drawbridge and portcullis' that kept out attacking armies; that is to say most attacking armies. The Army of Pundoe was not most armies. They had no trouble scaling the outer wall and opening the entry to Three Cities. Dooma watched them work, their efficiency the same as it had been in Oboa. Then he waited for General Boveeriun to return. The leader of the Army of Pundoe was to notify him that he could ride unimpeded to the castle where he intended to take his revenge on Queen Diaochan. Dooma did not have to wait long for the general's return.

"I believe you have a meeting with the queen," said Boveeriun, his decomposing lips upturned to form a smile.

"Indeed," replied Dooma.

"Third City is clear and my troops have entered Second City. Follow me! I will take care of any survivors."

The general started into a swift run, swift enough to match the speed of a galloping horse. He led the way into Third City where the roads were littered with corpses, the blood of the victims still fresh. It had been a slaughter. The Army of Pundoe had no mercy, not on soldiers and not on commoners. Every living person encountered was slain.

As they came closer to the gate that led to Second City, Boveeriun discovered something peculiar. In fact, it was something he'd never seen before. Twelve of his men lay dead in the middle of the road. He extended his sword and poked at the nearest body. There was no movement. They were as dead as the Levooan soldiers that surrounded them, the same as all those mortal men who lost their lives at the hands of the Army of Pundoe. Boveeriun turned his head to look at Dooma. "That is something of a concern."

Dooma was as curious as Boveeriun. "How is it possible?"

"I don't know and that is why it is a concern." The general stepped over the bodies and proceeded to lead Dooma into Second City where hundreds more Levooan soldiers lay dead.

* * *

Tevanon and Avor ran through Second City as fast as they could, passing endless corpses and burning buildings. They were confronted by the non-living soldiers ordered to secure the area, and after much fighting, fatigue was setting in, the minor wounds adding up.

Tevanon fell to one knee, his breaths heavy. "Is their no end to them?"

"Likely not," replied Avor. "But we must press on if we're to reach Kensic before something terrible happens."

An emotional pain surged in Tevanon's heart. He would not be able to live with himself if something terrible happened to Kensic, and so he stood ready to fight again.

"Around that next corner," said Avor pointing, "and we'll be on a straight path to First City!"

Tevanon did not hesitate. He led the way at a full sprint navigating over and around the clutter of dead people strewn about. Avor was hard pressed to keep up; his legs were not nearly so long as Tevanon's! Still, he was not about to fall behind. After all, Tevanon was the only one who could kill the fierce soldiers of the Army of Pundoe.

For a long stretch, they found no resistance, not until they reached the gate. There, a group of the non-living soldiers was lined up horizontally as if to create a wall, a wall of cursed beings ordered to kill everything.

Tevanon slowed his pace and readied his sword. Behind him, Avor did the same and with a roguish smile, he said, "Twenty to two are poor odds—"

"Even worse given that but one of us can kill the enemy!"

"I would have preferred to die in a fair fight, but at least I'll go out fighting!"

Tevanon did not hear him. His eyes had found a blue shirt among the dead, the same color blue shirt that Kensic had been wearing when he left for his meeting at the queen's school of engineering. Slowly, Tevanon veered toward it, all sorts of gloomy thoughts racing through his head. And then, when he was just a few strides away, when the truth was impossible to ignore, all those thoughts in his head slammed into each other creating a force fueled by hate and fury, pain and the agony of ultimate failure. Kensic was dead, and Tevanon's rage soared as he found instant blame in the Army of Pundoe and the sorcerer who controlled them. He had only one mission: to rain death upon those who killed his brother. His fears were swallowed up by an overwhelming sense of revenge; no longer concerned for his own life he charged into battle swinging his sword with unyielding strength. The cursed men of the Army of Pundoe were hacked and slashed to death; arms and heads were severed as bodies fell lifeless one atop the other.

Avor watched his young friend fight with a vigor he'd never seen before. How was it possible that one man, rather one boy, possessed the skill and strength to destroy twenty enemy soldiers single-handedly? Avor knew not the answer. He knew only that Tevanon was special, that the man-sized youth was a shiny steel blade amidst a collection of tarnished iron weapons.

One last non-living soldier fell dead to the ground, but Tevanon did not lower his sword nor did he cry out a joyful howl of victory. He remained diligent, sword held ready for battle, his eyes darting to and fro in search of the next enemy. None were in sight, and for a brief moment, Tevanon stood among the slain non-living soldiers, his companion Avor the only other living person in sight. Then there was the sound of hooves beating the ground. Louder and louder, it grew. Avor turned; Tevanon's eyes drifted the same way, and both of them saw the horses coming fast. The men atop them were clad in leather armor, their great helms of steel sparkling in the sun. Ahead of them, however, leading the way on foot was a creature of the non-living.

"The one on foot, is that General Boveeriun?" asked Avor.

Tevanon stepped over the bodies he'd so recently slain. "I hope so." His anger was still raging. "It is his turn to die."

The presumed enemies approached closer, close enough to see the armor of the man on foot; it was black leather decorated with red flames of death. Tevanon's eyes lit up with mad fury. He'd found General Boveeriun just as the Levooan squad leader said he would.

Halting at a safe distance, General Boveeriun took immediate notice of the pile of dead non-living soldiers lying behind Tevanon. He looked at the man-sized boy and snickered. "Certainly, it could not be you who is responsible for killing my men."

"But it _was_ I," replied Tevanon scowling.

"Interesting. For a thousand years, I've not seen one of my men die, yet this day alone I've seen dozens of them lying dead. It has been my understanding there is but one way to end the curse of the Army of Pundoe—"

"Killing _you_ ends the curse!"

Boveeriun's brow lifted. Killing him would indeed end the curse and send the Army of Pundoe to its final resting place, but for a mortal to accomplish such a feat required a great deal more than brawn. It required the action of a god, and the gods were not known for granting mortals exceptional gifts. In this case, however, evidence suggested the man-sized boy had found the favor of a god, and that meant that Boveeriun was at risk of being killed. Unfortunately, even as much as he wanted the curse to end, he could not simply lay down his sword and allow a mortal to kill him nor could he kill himself. The Oxra magic would not allow it; would not even allow him to think it. His mind and soul were trapped and he had no choice but to fight, no choice but to live with Skelor's curse for all eternity.

"Well then," said Boveeriun, arrogance beaming from his every pore. "Do your worst, but I assure you I am going to kill you."

Dooma interrupted. "Boveeriun! I will continue! Find me at the castle when you've finished here." He did not wait for a reply and rode on with his knights.

Avor recognized them as the men who slaughtered the Elite Guard of Detoa and with a flavor for revenge he darted after them. Tevanon did not notice. He was already engaged in battle with Boveeriun, and the long dead general came at him with untamed vigor. Tevanon blocked the first blow and retaliated with a swipe that grazed Boveeriun's abdomen. The leader of the Army of Pundoe glanced at the minor wound that had produced the tiniest speck of blood.

"That's something I haven't seen for a long time."

He came at Tevanon again. Their swords clashed and clanked as they exchanged blow after blow. Boveeriun had a slight advantage for he did not tire like a mortal. Tevanon, however, was fueled by anger and revenge and while he should have been fatigued, he was not showing the typical signs. He continued to fight as though he had just stepped onto the battlefield, as though he had not already slain dozens of men, and as though his greatest desire was to kill the general who supposedly could not be killed.

Boveeriun brought his sword down like a war hammer, his gnarled fingers wrapped tightly around the grip, his decayed face filled with deadly intent. Tevanon sidestepped and blocked the blow just above his right shoulder. He then dropped down intending to counter low, but he was not fast enough. Boveeriun's boot caught him across the face and he crashed to the ground. He was up quickly, though, despite the blood spilling from his nose.

"You fight well," spoke Boveeriun. "And it is truly a shame that I must kill you."

Tevanon remained silent as his brother's lifeless body flashed in his mind. His anger reared again. Boveeriun and all of the Army of Pundoe would pay for Kensic's death. He moved in an arc around the general, his sword held high, his head held higher. Blood from his nose flavored his mouth; he spat, his eyes never leaving his opponent. Boveeriun lunged. Tevanon's footwork was perfect. He dodged the attack and swung his sword catching Boveeriun's outstretched arm. The general was surprised to be sure, but his composure was not lost, not even as the red of his blood stained his pale skin. He came at Tevanon again, this time swinging his weapon in broad strokes that were intended to overpower his opponent, and such a strategy might have worked were Tevanon weaker, were he more of an average thirteen-year-old. But Tevanon was not. He'd proven over and over again that he could match strength with even the strongest of grown men. His feet never stopped moving as he dodged and checked Boveeriun's heavy blows. Patiently, he waited for an opportunity to strike all the while his uncle's words rang in his ears, "Patience is a warrior's greatest ally."

Boveeriun raised his sword and brought it down hard. Tevanon anticipated the attack and leaned back, his weight falling on his bent knee. Their swords clashed, the energy from the blow pushing them in opposite directions. Tevanon was faster to recover and one handedly swung his longsword at Boveeriun's unguarded neck. The general shifted to avoid the blade then turned back to face his enemy. There would be no more fighting though. Boveeriun was mortally wounded. The tip of Tevanon's blade made a deeper than obvious cut that stretched across the right side of the general's neck. Blood gushed from the opening as Boveeriun threw a hand over the wound. His sword dropped to the ground, and he staggered; he knew he'd been beaten, and it was quite a surprise.

"I commend you," said Boveeriun, his scratchy voice now somewhat garbled. "I did not expect such an outcome." The general dropped to one knee where he remained for a brief time before toppling over dead.

Tevanon slowly lowered his weapon and then suddenly, without warning, the ground shook violently. Raising up his sword much faster than he lowered it, he once again took a fighting stance. It was then that Boveeriun's body burst into a bright golden light that exploded upward to the sky. A moment later, the sky was filled with thousands of golden lights. The curse of Skelor was broken, and the lights were the freed souls of the non-living soldiers who had suffered for a thousand years.

As the ground steadied, Tevanon looked around; there was no sign of Avor, but there stood Kensic and Narah behind him. He was overjoyed to see his brother alive and rushed to hug him. "I thought you were dead!"

Kensic returned his brother's hug. "That was the plan."

"A cleverly genius plan that kept us alive!" said Narah.

Tevanon was crying. "Kensic is certainly a clever genius!"

"Are you crying?" asked Kensic.

"I am just so happy to see you, both of you!" Tevanon squeezed his brother in a hug then pulled Narah in with them.

"I surely did not expect that," said Narah.

As Tevanon released them Kensic asked, "Why did the sky light up with brightness?"

"You saw that did you?"

"Yes and it was very curious."

"I will tell you all about it as we make our way to the castle. I fear the queen may be danger."

"Very well," said Kensic. "But when we're done there I still must get to the queen's school of engineering!"

Tevanon had already started into a jog. "Of course, brother! We will be as swift as possible!"

# CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Dooma and his knights hurried through First City on their way to the castle. Nearly halfway there, the ground shook and the sky was filled with bursts of bright golden light. Dooma did not deviate from his course, but he was curious to know what he just witnessed. As he and his knights traveled farther, they expected to find numerous non-living soldiers, but there were none, not even the corpses. It was as though the Army of Pundoe had vanished through some trick of sorcery. Dooma felt a twinge of worry trickle up his spine. The Army of Pundoe was the sole reason he was so close to taking his revenge on Queen Diaochan. If his greatest ally had somehow been wiped out, the odds of success were no longer in his favor. Approaching the castle gatehouse, he hoped the non-living soldiers had already cleared the area of guards; at least then he would stand a chance of reaching the queen. Without delay, he urged his horse into the gatehouse that led to the castle courtyard.

* * *

Avor had run as fast as he could in an effort to keep up with the men who'd slaughtered the Elite Guard of Detoa. Unfortunately, a man on foot was no match for the speed of a horse, and so it was not long before the knights were out of sight. Still, Avor did not give up. He desperately wanted to catch them to avenge his dead companions. Suddenly, the ground shook. At first, he didn't notice, not until he was knocked off his feet and the sky lit up with gold light. Avor wondered what it meant. Had Tevanon slain General Boveeriun? Having no time to ponder the question he jumped up and started again at full speed en route to the castle.

Along the way, the answer to his earlier question was revealed. There was not a single non-living soldier anywhere in sight and that meant that Tevanon had indeed slain General Boveeriun. The Army of Pundoe was no more. Avor felt a surge of pride but he did not slow down. He still had to find the knights who killed his companions of the Elite Guard.

When he could see the castle gatehouse in the near distance, he pressed himself to run faster, but then, almost as quickly as he sped up, he slowed down. The gatehouse portcullis was open allowing for uninhibited access to the castle courtyard. Avor proceeded but cautiously and as he entered the courtyard he found the horses of the men he was chasing. Beyond the horses, the main door to the castle was wide open. With haste, he entered the spacious entry where he found a half dozen of Levoo's soldiers lying dead on the marble floor. Looking ahead, Avor had to choose which way to go of a possible three directions. He went straight through a large wooden door and into what was likely the queen's court, but court was not in session, at least not the queen's court.

There stood the men Avor was chasing, their backs to the door.

"Halt!" shouted Avor.

Several knights moved aside and between them stood a tall man with a black beard. Upon seeing Avor, the man smiled as though he finally remembered something he'd forgotten. "Of course. You were with the troop that carried the Jewel of Detoa. How is it that you survived?"

Avor could see a woman behind the bearded man, but not just any woman. She wore a purple gown that sparkled even in the dimness of the castle's interior, and a fanciful string of jewels hung from her neck. She was the queen of Levoo, Queen Diaochan, and she was on her knees, two of the knights with hands on her shoulders. "I was lucky." Avor's eyes narrowed. "Just what is going on here?"

"I'm going to kill the queen for wrongly accusing me of treason."

Avor's memory jolted and he remembered Kensic's theory, the theory that Dooma had invaded Turlot to gain an advantageous position of attack on Levoo and to ultimately kill the queen, the queen who had him sentenced to death for treason. "You are Dooma, the former lord of Mewtow."

"Yes I am, and you are interfering with my revenge."

Avor could not let the queen die. He had to do something, but he knew the odds were against him. After all, if he couldn't beat Dooma and his knights with the whole of the Elite Guard, there was no way he could survive fighting them alone. But then, he had an idea. Maybe he didn't have to fight them alone; maybe all he had to do was pray. And so, relying heavily on his faith and the theory that Tevanon was favored by Arwaan, the god of morality, he sheathed his sword and knelt down. With fingers interlaced and held before his heart, he lowered his head to pray.

Laughter echoed off the stone walls. Dooma and his knights had seen many a man pray for their lives, but those men typically begged Dooma for mercy, begged him to spare their lives. Avor had not done this. He was praying silently as though he were in a place of worship, as though no threat to his life stood before him.

Through his laughter, Dooma spoke, "Kill him."

The knight standing left of Dooma approached Avor, and when close enough, he raised his sword as though he were an executioner. His chance to behead the praying man, however, had already passed. An arrow pierced his neck. The other knights might have reacted but they too were victims, now maimed or dead.

Dooma turned and looked past the queen. Two dozen soldiers were moving toward him. His rage exploded. He was less than a moment away from severing the queen's head and now his knights were dead or useless and a squad of Levoo's troops stood before him. It was a horribly inconvenient turn of events.

The queen had not moved nor had her gaze left Dooma's face. She knew her knights had come, and just in time. "Well, Dooma, it seems your plans have been unexpectedly interrupted."

Dooma snarled.

"Stand down!" shouted the man leading the queen's knights.

Dooma, however, had no intention of standing down. He had not come so close to fulfilling his revenge to have his opportunity stolen from him, but the reality of the situation was in sharp contrast to Dooma's desires. His loyal knights were slain and he was greatly outnumbered. Even being fully aware of these realities did not deter him from raising his sword to kill Queen Diaochan, and such was the beginning of his end. Arrows struck his body, twelve of them precisely aimed. He staggered just slightly, but he did not fall. With vengeance pulsing through his veins, he lifted his sword again and that was the end. Nine arrows speared his face turning it into nothing more than a bloodied mass of human flesh. Dooma's body toppled dead.

The man leading the queen's knights was a man whose skin was golden beige, whose eyes were narrow and dark and whose thin black beard resembled the whiskers of a cat. He was from the same land as the queen, from across the Yallan Ocean, but had found a place with the knights of Levoo. He gently helped the queen stand. "Are you alright, my queen?"

Queen Diaochan was no longer a young woman, but still, she was striking. Her deep brown eyes were understanding yet confident, and her posture rigid yet welcoming. She wore her long black hair pulled back from her face and left to flow over the back of her purple gown. "I am alright considering how near I was to losing my head."

"My apologies." The knight lowered his head in shame. "I should not have left your side."

The queen touched his chin gently lifting his head back to eye level. "Do not apologize, Renshu. You did what you thought best to protect me, and in the end I am alive."

"Things would have been much different had the soldiers of the Army of Pundoe not been turned into streaks of bright light."

"You are right. We would all be dead and none of this would matter. So let us be grateful that we are still breathing and not dwell on what might have been." She turned to the praying man who remained on his knees, but for a different reason than before. Now, he was respectfully kneeling before the queen. "You there, please rise."

"Yes, Your Grace," said Avor as he stood.

"What is your name and why were you chasing Dooma and his knights?"

"I am Avor, a soldier from Detoa and I was traveling with our Elite Guard to deliver the Jewel of Detoa to the Festival of the Jewels in Shiriza."

"A fine event."

"Yes, however, the Jewel of Detoa did not make it to the festival. A day out from Enwin, myself and the Elite Guard were highjacked by the man you call Dooma." Avor gestured to the dead man whose face was riddled with arrows. "Every soldier of the Elite Guard was killed; well, all but me and I am lucky to be alive. I was badly wounded, and were it not for some passing travelers, I would not stand before you now."

"Then you were seeking revenge upon Dooma for his actions?"

"Yes, Your Grace, but I did not know this man was Dooma, the former lord of Mewtow. I only recognized him as the man who slaughtered the Elite Guard and stole the jewel. Despite not knowing him as Dooma, many days ago I was told that Dooma had invaded Turlot, and it seemed likely his end goal was to take his revenge upon you."

"Interesting," said the queen. "But Dooma could not have summoned the Army of Pundoe. That is the work of a sorcerer."

"You are right, and it was not until this day that I was able to complete the puzzle. You see, Dooma is allied with the sorcerer Akarid, and it was Akarid who summoned the Army of Pundoe."

"I have heard all the tales of Akarid, and if he truly is behind this, he like Dooma is seeking revenge." The queen paused. "I wonder then, when will Akarid show himself?"

* * *

Beneath a bushy tree far enough from Three Cities to be unnoticed, there sat Akarid with legs crossed and one hand placed on each knee. He was watching his plan unfold. Unfortunately, some of the folds were not as he predicted. He failed to foresee the death of both his allies. Dooma was an insignificant loss, but to lose General Boveeriun and the Army of Pundoe was crippling. Without them, he could not invade other nations, which would make difficult his plan to rule the world. Surely, in time, he could find another army to obey him and there was always the option to go back into hiding where he could restructure his plan. Neither of these did Akarid settle on. He was going to kill them all, all the clever mortals who destroyed his plan.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Tevanon could have gotten to the castle much faster, but he was not about to leave behind Kensic and Narah, not when he was uncertain if more dangers lurked ahead. Fortunately, they made it without incident and cautiously entered the unguarded castle. Tevanon hurried through the spacious lobby to the doorway that led to the queen's court. Inside there was more carnage, but there was also Avor. "Thank Arwaan, you're alive!"

Avor smiled. "And you as well!" He turned back to the queen. "These are my friends, Tevanon, Kensic and Narah."

"I am Queen Diaochan, and I am pleased to meet all of you. The name Kensic, however, is familiar to me... ah yes! You are the boy seeking entry to my school of engineering."

"Yes, I am!" said Kensic, his tone more excited than normal.

"Felbin spoke to me yesterday about your admittance. He said you were the most intelligent nine-year-old he'd ever met and held every intention to enroll you in the school."

Kensic nearly jumped out of his shoes. "Thank you so much, Queen Diaochan! I will not let you down!"

"I trust that you will not."

"How pleasantly unexpected!" blurted Narah, "That Kensic has learned of his entry to the queen's school of engineering from the queen herself!"

Queen Diaochan smiled. "Today has been full of unexpected events."

"How about one more!" The voice boomed throughout the room. "It is time for you to die Queen Diaochan and your precious Levoo with you!"

Renshu and the other Levooan knights circled the queen as they searched for the source of the threat. Then one of the knights pointed to the back of the room, to a large wooden chair carved with fanciful decorations. "There!" he shouted.

The chair he pointed to was where the queen sat during trials, but now it was occupied by a man wearing a hooded robe. He sat perched, casually, as though it were a normal day at the castle, as though nothing significant had transpired.

Avor noticed the yellow streaks on the man's robe, and he knew from the tales of old that this man was Akarid. He turned to the queen. "Your earlier question has just been answered! That is Akarid!"

Akarid pulled back his hood revealing his bright green eyes. "I will finish what Dooma and Boveeriun could not!"

A screeching howl made everyone cringe.

Narah was first to see what happened next. "Look!" she shouted. The walls were coming to life!

Through a sinister laugh, Akarid spat, "You will not survive this!"

Deathly howls filled the room, and the stone walls bubbled and stretched as they morphed into faces, slim faces with eye sockets black as night and sagging corpse-like skin that ruffled with the slightest movement. They were demons of Oxra magic summoned from another world.

With bow readied, Narah looked up at the giant demons that were growing out from the wall. "I expected something much worse!"

Suddenly, one of the clawed hands sprang out and swiped at the mortals. Everyone dove to the floor, Tevanon shouting, "It's worse!"

After the massive hand passed over them, Narah rose to her knees and aimed her bow at Akarid. She let loose the arrow, but long before it reached the evil sorcerer it suddenly fell from the sky. The arrow hit something, but there was nothing there.

"What?" questioned Narah mostly to herself.

Queen Diaochan gave a reply, "Akarid has created a shield to protect himself. Only magic can break through it!"

The sorcerer raised his arms to create a blast of wind that rammed his enemies knocking them to ground. Narah was quick to get up, but her timing couldn't have been worse. She was snatched up by a demon and shaken violently. Her teeth chattered and her bones felt as though they were going to rattle right out of her body.

"Help Narah!" shouted Kensic.

Tevanon stood making himself an instant target for the demons, and surely enough, one of the demonic hands was coming for him. He raised his sword and with a roar brought it down with all his strength. The demon's hand was not slowed, though, and Tevanon was slapped with the force of a battering ram. He went airborne toward the back of the room where he crashed into the thick stone wall. There, he flopped on the floor barely conscious.

The demon shook Narah one last time then threw her toward the front of the room. Kensic watched her fly out the double wooden doors, and he prayed she was okay. Were he able, he would have run to aid her, but just then, several long claws speared the floor tearing up the stones next to him. He rolled to the side barely in time to avoid another of the wall-demon's attacks. Unfortunately, two of the queen's knights were not so lucky. They were stabbed through the chest and slung aside.

Renshu looked at his queen. "What would you have me do, my queen?"

She did not answer; her expression muddled with consternation and concern.

One of her knights, however, did have an answer. He was a gray-haired man easily as old as the queen and also from across the Yallan Ocean. With fear on his tongue he blurted, "There is but one way to defeat a sorcerer with Akarid's power!"

The queen looked at the aging knight, a twitch on her lip. "I will not chance becoming what I was."

"You must trust yourself, Diaochan! Use what you know to save Levoo!"

Her head sank. "I cannot do it."

"Then we are doomed." The words just barely out of his mouth, he failed to see the demon's claw and he was torn in two.

His blood sprayed across the queen's dress; she did not flinch. Her somber gaze was unchanged, yet deep inside her person something _had_ changed. She spoke words in a foreign language, words she had not spoken for decades, and as she spoke, she threw back her shoulders and held high her head.

Akarid unleashed another gust of wind, so hard that no human could have remained standing. Queen Diaochan, however, did remain standing; she was unaffected by Akarid's weather altering sorcery and with hands held close to her chin, she faced the evil sorcerer who invaded her land.

"Agleth-ar reknanon ert-ba sedin cawbatoskoo!" She spoke loudly, firmly. Her eyes went white and with elbows close to her body, she threw outward her hands. Black smoke billowed from them and formed what looked like ropes, thick ropes of dark gray smoke. The ropes wrapped the necks of Akarid's wall-demons and strangled them back to the underworld.

Akarid stood abruptly, his body shaking with anger. "Impossible! I killed Skelor! I am the most powerful sorcerer in the world!"

Queen Diaochan was calm and with invisible hands she reached through Akarid's shield and plucked the sorcerer from where he sat. Then she slammed him down.

"Power is an illusion!" she proclaimed before leaning forward and opening her mouth wider than seemed humanly possible. From the depths of her throat came thousands of tiny white flies. They were the predatory white flies from the jungles of Kanbia and best known for devouring the flesh of living creatures. Akarid was swarmed, but he was not so easily defeated. His body burst into flames and the flies were scorched into non-existence.

The evil sorcerer staggered to his feet, his ever-expanding anger evident when he screeched, "I will have my revenge on Levoo!" His eyes locked onto Diaochan, his fingers curled like claws, and his jaw snapped tight. "Nopooloo cor bot soon vorcanlox eloonoo!"

A stream of thick yellow slime surged toward the queen. She turned slightly and shouted to the men behind her, "Hold your breath!"

Slime filled the room consuming Diaochan and her knights, Avor and Kensic. Then it solidified creating a bizarre jelly like mold that was a suffocation chamber. There was no way out and no way to get air inside. The queen was not joking when she told them to hold their breaths. She did not say, however, for how long they would have to hold them.

Time passed, and for those trapped it seemed an eternity. A few knights could not hang on and they died silently within the slime. Alas though! Diaochan countered Akarid's magic and the jelly prison exploded into tiny particles that splattered every surface of the room. They were freed!

Avor took in a deep breath before grabbing hold of Kensic. "Are you alright?!"

"Just out of breath," replied the boy as Avor squeezed him in a hug.

Suddenly, the room darkened and a flock of birdfaced wraiths flew overhead; their ghostly bodies black, their sword-like beaks blood red.

"Magic defies logic," said Kensic.

"Yes," grumbled Avor, "and who knew Queen Diaochan was a sorceress!"

The wraiths swooped down to spear Akarid, but he was already speaking the words of another spell, and just a moment later, the bird-faced wraiths were shredded into nothingness. Akarid smiled as though he knew something that his enemies did not. He reached up and when he brought down his arms, he was holding the Jewel of Detoa in one hand and the Jewel of the East in the other.

Avor's eyes immediately settled on the prized possession of his home country. "The Jewel of Detoa!" he shouted almost not realizing he said it aloud.

Akarid slammed together the priceless jewels and they shattered into a swirl of energy that twisted and stretched across the room first striking the queen then her knights and then Avor and Kensic. The victims were thrown to the floor and paralyzed.

Akarid laughed hideously. "You are no match for me, Diaochan!" His continuous laughter echoed off the walls of the queen's courtroom, and then he spoke words that were followed by a loud cracking sound, like stone breaking apart. And that is exactly what it was; the stone ceiling was breaking apart.

Diaochan could not see the threat from above, but she knew something terrible was about to happen. It was true, she was no match for Akarid's superior power, but she had to try to save her knights; she had to try to save Avor and Kensic. Words tumbled off her lips, just a whisper, but loud enough to cast her spell. Large falling stones were reduced to explosions of green mist that showered everything below. Diaochan's spell, though, was not strong enough to stop them all. Two of her knights were crushed, and Avor nearly so as a hulking stone crashed beside him spraying him with stone shrapnel.

While Akarid's tortuous show continued to play out, Tevanon roused to a more alert state of consciousness, and he quickly realized that now was his opportunity to strike. He picked up his sword and with soft sneaking steps, he crept up behind the sorcerer whose focus was on his own evil magic. Stepping into range, Tevanon raised his longsword and swung for Akarid's head. Abruptly, impossibly, his movement stopped mid swing and it looked as though he'd been transformed into a statue.

Akarid turned just enough to the see the failed attacker, and his lips curled into a sinister smile. "So, you are the one who killed Boveeriun. I thought you older, but now I see that you are just a boy, albeit, a well fed boy."

Tevanon wanted to respond, but he could not move even his lips.

"I assure you," continued Akarid, "the god that gave you the power to defeat Boveeriun will not interfere with my killing you. The gods are fickle, you see, and they do not expel too much power on mortals."

His laughter was drowned out by the sounds of stones crashing on the floor, a sound that also concealed Narah's reentry to the room. Her eyes found Tevanon, his sword raised and ready to slash the sorcerer beside him. Something was wrong, though. Tevanon was abnormally still, like an elaborately posed sculpture. Narah's head twitched. Fear and realization had collided within her; Tevanon was trapped in a spell. She lifted her bow knowing that an arrow would not pierce through Akarid's shield, but still she had to try. Letting loose the string, the arrow soared across the room.

Akarid saw it coming and he laughed hideously, threateningly. No mortal weapon could penetrate his shield of sorcery. He laughed right up until Narah's arrow speared him between the eyes. Then as blood rolled down his sharp nose, an unsettling confusion fell over his face. He could not understand how a mortal weapon passed through his impenetrable shield. As his strength faded, the magic restraining Tevanon failed and the man-sized boy finished his swing.

Akarid had no further thoughts. His head rolled off his shoulders, and his body slumped as if nothing more than a bag of bones.

The room was filled with relief as everyone was freed from Akarid's paralyzing spell.

"Haha!" shouted Avor his excitement billowing.

Queen Diaochan was in a state of awe. Her life and her nation had just been saved by a boy and a girl who were likely not old enough to be admitted to the ranks of the military. In addition, and adding to the disbelief, Narah's arrow had penetrated Akarid's shield. Diaochan had heard many tales of mortals conquering sorcerers, but she had never witnessed such an event. Now she had, and she would never forget. Nor would she allow the people of Levoo to forget. With a silent prayer, she rose to her feet.

Tevanon sprinted past her and then past Avor and Kensic.

"Where are you going, Tevanon?" asked Avor.

"I must make sure Zikora is okay!" He came to a sudden stop in front of Narah. "There is no doubt in my mind you would have won the archery tournament in Turlot, and I would be glad to have you by my side in any fight." He dashed away and Narah smiled knowing that he finally accepted her. Turning back to the wartorn courtroom she rushed to Kensic's side. Hugging him, she said, "That was another close one!"

Kensic frowned. "I'm sorry I didn't have a clever plan to save us."

"No worries." She winked at him. "I had a plan this time!"

Kensic smiled.

"So then, must you still meet with Felbin?"

"It would be improper not to given that he is expecting me."

Narah was distracted by the approaching queen and her remaining knights behind her. "May I interrupt?" she asked politely.

Avor turned. "Of course, Your Grace."

"I wish to extend my gratitude to each of you."

"You are quite welcome, but it seems your secret sorcery skills are the primary reason for our success."

Queen Diaochan's chin lowered just slightly. "Yes, a past I wish that I could forget."

"My apologies, I did not intend to stir dark memories."

"No need to apologize."

"Perhaps you can tell me what happened to the Jewel of Detoa?"

The queen smiled. "It is there," she pointed to where Akarid's head lie on the stone floor.

Surely enough, the Jewel of Detoa was right there and beside it was the Jewel of the East. Avor's face contorted with confusion. "How?"

"The death of Akarid released them back to this realm."

"I surely do not understand it, but I have not been so pleased in some time!" Avor smiled knowing that he would be able to go home after all.

"If you intend to return to Detoa, perhaps you would not mind delivering the Jewel of the East to the king in Ivanae?"

"I would be honored to do it."

"Now then," started the queen. "Tevanon ran out before I could thank him for his bravery. Perhaps you could make sure he returns to the castle at a later time."

"I surely will."

Narah interjected, "He just has to make sure his beloved Zikora is alive."

"I see," said Queen Diaochan. "Well, I do hope he finds her safe."

# CHAPTER THIRTY

Tevanon's eyes welled as he squeezed Zikora in a hug. "I am so pleased you're okay."

"Yes," replied Zikora, "although we had a couple of scares."

"The Army of Pundoe is relentless," said Kazzy.

Tevanon released Zikora. "Fortunately, they are gone for good."

A third voice interjected. "Arwaan must truly believe in you."

Tevanon turned. "Ohvee! I am glad you're still among the living!"

"Because of you, no doubt!"

"Only in part. Without my friends I would not have succeeded."

"The gods are pleased with your newfound humbleness!"

"Well then, I shall always strive to please them."

Zikora's attention turned to a fire farther up the road, and she started toward it. The others followed her to the devastation that was once the Grassy Green Inn, now nothing more than a pile of burning wood.

For a moment, there was silence as the heat from the flames warmed the air around.

Tevanon finally spoke, disappointment in his tone. "I'm sorry, Kazzy. If I could have prevented this I would have."

"It is no fault of yours, and to be honest, this heap of a wooden building was bound to crumble!"

"If you would like, I would be pleased to help you build a new one."

Zikora turned to face Tevanon and rather suddenly. "Does that mean you're going to live in Three Cities?"

Tevanon looked at her, softness in his eyes. "Kensic has been admitted to the queen's school of engineering, and he is my only family, so it seems I will be in Three Cities for the long of it."

"Is that truly what you want?"

He smiled. "I cannot say I would have chosen Three Cities as my home, but I would never leave my brother stranded, and now there is you, and I want to be near you, Zikora, more than anything."

Ohvee was teary eyed. "How I do enjoy seeing the blossoms of love."

Zikora and Kensic blushed as Kazzy's laughter filled the air. "Come, you two," he said placing an arm around each of them. "There is much work to be done before Three Cities gets back to normal."

Kazzy was right, of course, and everyone all the way up to the queen knew that rebuilding Three Cities would be a long process given the devastation. Queen Diaochan, however, was ever-confident that such a challenge would strengthen her nation even further once again proving to all the lands that Levoo was strong and united and filled with patriotic citizens who had the determination to thrive in the face of adversity.

In addition to her governing duties, the queen found time to reward those who played a role in defeating Akarid and his sinister agents. These rewards were more of life changing opportunities and the recipients' receptiveness was quite varied.

Avor was offered the post of knight, which meant that he would have to resign from the military in his homeland of Detoa. He was not sure he wanted to make such a drastic change, but the death of his Elite Guard companions was a compelling reason to start fresh in Levoo. After considering the queen's offer for several days, he chose to accept and to start his life anew in a foreign land with his new friends.

Tevanon was not offered the post of knight due to his age, and so the queen offered him the opportunity to be a squire, which would lead to knighthood when he was of age. The man-sized boy knew, however, that being a squire meant living at the castle and that meant not seeing Zikora nearly so often. This was not agreeable to Tevanon, so he negotiated a deal to bring Kazzy and Zikora to the castle with him. As it turned out, the overseer of the castle's tavern and inn was killed during the assault and the queen had not yet filled the post. Recognizing the value of having Tevanon in her military, she had no qualms about hiring Kazzy and Zikora, which prompted Tevanon to accept the post of squire and quite happily.

Narah, also not of age for military service, was given the opportunity to apprentice under Levoo's master bowman, an offer she was almost too eager to accept and especially knowing that she would be at the castle while Kensic was next door at the queen's school of engineering. She was somewhat disappointed that she would not be living in Third City, but to be near Kensic was vastly more important.

And Kensic, of course, was about to begin the greatest adventure of his life in attending the queen's school of engineering. For once, he could not contain his excitement, and even after the start of school, he was still silly with giddiness. His friends and mostly his brother were especially happy for him, and each night they listened to him tell all about his day, which at times was quite a lengthy monologue. None of them seemed to mind as for the moment, life was good and they were not about to take it for granted.

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

TYSON CLARKE attended San Jose State University where he studied creative writing and film production. Post graduation, he found success as a technical writer then pursued other interests before rediscovering his passion for writing stories with encouragement from his wife and biggest fan. _Tevanon and Kensic_ is his fifth book and while he has plans for many more he is currently working on a web series that will debut in 2016. To find out more, check out Tyson's website or follow him on Facebook and GooglePlus.

www.tysonclarke.com

