Darkness Rising, Pages 401-450

                “You underestimate them.  Many have done that in the past and all have come to regret it, for as long the flame haired bitch let them live.”  Huntyr said acidly.  He shook his head, sighing heavily.  “I’ll tell you one thing for certain.  When we do catch them, I want the ranger.  No man embarrasses me like he did today.  I’ll be wanting to teach him a lesson he’ll not soon forget.”

                “You’ll get your chance.”  She promised him, leaning forward, pressing her soft, generous bosom into his back.  “Don’t forget that Falcone is awaiting your orders.”  Their new general, newly promoted as of that very morning, had some ideas concerning security for the palace, especially in light of the events of earlier in the day.      

                He sighed.  “Yes, of course.  I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”  He stepped away from her then turned to face her.  He ran his eyes down her statuesque figure and she smiled seductively at him.  He reached out, placed his hands on her hips and pulled her to him.  He kissed her and she opened her mouth to his, melting against him, moaning softly.  When they parted he had a new look in his eyes, one she hadn’t seen before.  “You know, if this does work out, if we wind up keeping the city… I’ll be wanting an heir.”  She cocked her head at him slightly, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corners of her full lips.  “Would you have my child?”

                She reached up and caressed his cheek almost lovingly.  “I will be wanting the same, when the time comes.  Of course I will have your child!”  He smiled, then turned and marched from the room.  She watched him go, then turned toward the window across the room and walked to it, her mind whirling with the events of the day.  She thought her husband to be something of a fool,  but he was useful to her.  And in spite of her words, she was very worried about the Dragons and days escapes.  She knew all too well what those people were capable of.  A male voice behind her suddenly cleared his throat and she turned her head, not surprised he had snuck up on her.  Her personal servant, whom she had brought with her when she moved into the palace, was one of the only men that could do that.  “Yes Beau?  What is it?”

                Beauregard, a tall, stately old elf in a perfectly tailored suit with long tails announced, “Madame, the emissary from Shadowveil is here and would like a word with you… before sunrise.”

                She turned away from the window, where the pitch black of deepest night was still visible and would be for several hours.  “Of course, send him in.”

                Beau withdrew, then returned a moment later announcing, “Lord Mikal Larux, milady, emissary of Shadowveil.”  She smiled warmly as she moved forward to meet him, extending a hand. The vampire swept into the room, removing a tall black hat from atop his head as he returned her smile.  She saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw her and thought that this was a man she could manipulate, which in her mind was a good thing.  As he took her hand, bending over it and brushing his lips lightly across its top, she sized him up.  He was human once and looked to have gotten no further than his twenty-first year.  His hair was long and full of curl, black as night which was a stark contrast to his pale skin.  His eyes, which twinkled with something like mirth, were a startling shade of brown… like the outer shell of a walnut.  He was dressed impeccably in a custom tailored suit of black with red trim, his shirt white with ruffle at the cuffs and collar.  He wore a long black duster that billowed about him like a cape as he walked and had a mantle about the shoulders.  He was certainly handsome, indeed he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.

                “My Lord Larux,” she said in her sultriest purr, “welcome to Peacehope.”

                “Thank you milady, but please, call me Mikal.”  His voice was rich and cultured, tinted with an accent she had a hard time placing.  Could that be old Errgauntian?  Just how old was this vampire?

                “And you must call me…” she nearly slipped up and gave him her real name, but corrected almost instantaneously, “…Penny.”

                He smiled and she thought there was more behind that expression than met the eye, this one would bear watching, but he was certainly going to be fun to have around.  “Very well then Penny.”  He turned and glanced at the servant that was till waiting by the door.  She dismissed him with a flick of her fingers and the vampire turned back to her when he had gone.  “I must say, my… master was surprised to receive your generous gift.  Surprised but pleased… very pleased.”

                “I’m so glad.  I had assumed as much, otherwise you would not be here.” She glanced toward the window leadingly and asked, “Are there more coming?”

                He laughed, the sound rich and leading her heart to fluttering slightly.  Oh, he was good.  “Indeed there are.  More than a thousand of the Barons elite troops and some of his foot soldiers as well.  I am but the advanced guard if you will.”

                “I see.”  She said softly, moving to the divan and sprawling across it again, looking languorous.  “And will these men be under your direct command?”

                He nodded, turning it into a half bow.  “They shall milady.”

                She smiled coyly at him.  “And whose command are you under, Mikal?”

                His smile was more knowing than coy.  “I follow the word of my master, Baron Vonderlicht, and he has instructed me to follow your orders to the letter, provided that those orders do not countermand anything he has told me.”

                “And has he told you anything that will counter productive to our plans here?”  she asked him.         

                He laughed.  “You play this game well milady.”  She smiled and nodded at him.  “No, he has not.  The Baron has nothing but the highest of hopes for this… friendship.”

                “Oh good!  Then we’re on the same page.”  She said, her eyes dancing over him with the same interest he had shown her earlier.

                “Indeed we are.”

Chapter Twelve

                The sextet rode hard for three days, pushing their mounts to the point of exhaustion.  Tasha, Strut and Shadow Walker were eager to get to the Trey’Elden mountains to help their friends whereas Alex and Skull were just spoiling for a fight.  Unknown to any of them, Erlyk Shayde, the First Knight of Errgaunt, was eager to prove himself to the God his father had served all his life and had taught Erlyk to worship from the day he was born.  He wondered idly what the others would think if they knew that the source of the information they were following was Noktyrne, the God of the Undead himself.  He knew from his past dealings with her that the Lady Natashiana in particular would not be too happy with that fact.  Her father was a priest of Roma, the Lady of Justice.  The Pantheon of Justice were steadfastly against the Cult of Undeath… no, if she had known where the information she was working to had come from, she would not have been so quick to trust it.  Not that she trusted him, he had no misconceptions about that.  She wasn’t the sort of woman that had a lot of room in her heart for hatred, but he knew that she considered making and exception for him… for Skull too for that matter.  He didn’t know what their history was, but he knew that they had met during a particularly bad time in Inveigles history, when the human kingdom was being devastated by a magical plague called the Demon Fever. 

                “We need to rest these horses before we hit the mountains.”  Strut told them, and Erlyk figured that he would know.  He was the only member of the group of them that had spent any real time in those mountains, his being a native and all.

                “We need to find someplace to set a camp… get some sleep.”  Shayde said, reigning his horse in and looking around.  They had stayed on the main trade roads to this point, knowing that the smoother surfaces would save them time.  They were on a particularly windy stretch of road right now with a forest that spread out to either side of the road.  This area, it seemed, had been heavily cut by lumberjacks, but there were still a lot of very tall trees here.  In fact the deforestation had made a lot of clearings that were ideal for setting a camp.  “There’s plenty of room around here to set something up.”

                Tasha and Strut exchanged a glance and the knight knew what they were thinking.  Did they dare set a camp with the other three?  Could any of them trust each other enough to sleep in the company of the others?  Under other circumstances they would likely all be enemies, a few of them had been enemies in the past.  Fate had thrust them together now… for better or worse they were all in this one together.  The elf and the human nodded, then she turned her horses head toward the left and let it pick its way through the tree line till she came to a small clearing.  Strut and Bryant followed her and Erlyk, with Skull and Alex bringing up the rear, followed him.

                They all dismounted and tied their horses off to a series of low branches, then they stood, staring at each other, all of them thinking the same things.  What were they supposed to do now?  It was Erlyk Shayde who finally spoke up.  “We need to set up guard rotations.”  Strut nodded his agreement with that.  “Neither of our groups is going to trust the other to watch their back, but there are three of you and three of us.  I suggest we have a member from each team partner up throughout the night.”

                Strut, who was surprised at the ease with which that idea came to the knight, nodded.  “You and I, Skull and Shadow Walker and then the ladies can….” 

                “No.”  Tasha and Alex said simultaneously.  The barbarian warrior and the knight scowled, each of them looking at the woman in their group.  They were scowling even more darkly, their arms crossed beneath their breasts and looking belligerent. 

                “I’ll stand a shift with Shayde.”  Tasha said, nodding toward Erlyk.
                Alex met Strut’s eyes. “I’ll stand a shift with you.”  Obviously, they didn’t want to work together, but Strut had been hoping to keep Tasha out of a situation where one of these two would try to take advantage of her.  Still, if she was volunteering to stand a shift with Shayde, she must have trusted him to keep his hands to himself at least a little.  Or maybe she didn’t trust Alex to?  There was an interesting thought.  He smirked slightly, but nodded his agreement.  Shayde was still scowling but didn’t argue.  Tasha frowned at the barbarian’s smirk, but looked to the Black Knight with raised eyebrows. 

                “First shift?” she asked him.

                He nodded.  “Two hours each.”  He glanced around, then pointed at Skull and Shadow Walker in turn, “The Lady and I will wake the two of you in two hours.”

                “We’ll take last shift.”  Strut said, nodding toward Alex who smiled.  She had gotten what she wanted… nothing else really mattered to her at this point.  “Guards keep the fire going all night if they can.”  Bryant disappeared into the trees while everyone else laid out their bedrolls and such.  He came back thirty minutes later with a healthy supply of firewood.  After that he climbed into a tree and perched himself in a low hanging branch, his back against the trunk.  Everyone settled in for sleep except for Erlyk and Tasha.  The high elf didn’t even look at the knight, she crossed the small camp and saw that the horses were comfortable, then she hunkered down in a crouch just at the outskirts of the fires light, where her races natural nightvision would be less effected by the fire.  She had her bow on the ground in front of her and seemed lost in thought.  She turned her head ever so slightly at the sound of his soft approach, easily detected with her sharp hearing.

                As he came up next to her and squatted down at her side she noticed the cologne he wore and found it pleasant, which only made her frown.  She didn’t want to find anything about Erlyk Shayde pleasant.  “I know that I owe you an apology Lady Natashiana.”

                She didn’t turn to him as she responded, “Oh?”  Meeting his eyes, she knew, could be dangerous for anyone, she had learned that lesson the hard way.

                He scowled.  “You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?”

                “Should I?” She did shoot him a brief glare then before looking back out toward the woods.

                “Perhaps not.”  He shrugged broad shoulders as he gazed into the woods opposite those she watched.  “I wronged you… I’m well aware of this.  There is no excuse for behavior like that, especially from a knight.  All I can say is that… well, I was completely taken in by your beauty.  It… brought out the darkness in me.”

                Her eyes narrowed slightly as her mind remembered back nearly seven years, when she had first met Sir Erlyk Shayde.  It had been before she left her home of Hanover on the Southern shore of Aldonia, the high elven empire.  He had been traveling with his family, who had supposedly been touring their holdings around the world.  They had several such businesses and things in Aldonia, and Hanover had been the closest port for their ship to use.  In spite of the status of Keiran Shayde as the high priest of Noktyrne, her father had been determined to give the man a suitable welcome.  They were both nobles, and rulers in their own right.  Nearly equal in status both in nobility and their chosen faiths.  Whether those faiths were in agreement or not, they could be still be civil.  A party was thrown, welcoming the Shayde’s to Aldonia.  It had been a gala affair of the sort that the small coastal community rarely saw.  Tasha and her sister, Kallysta, had been called upon to assist in entertaining the visiting lords and Tasha had found herself, much to her own dislike, acting as the escort for the darkly handsome young knight.  It had been before the scar that now adorned his flesh, he had been one of the most strikingly handsome humans she had ever seen.  There was a darkness about him, that was true, but she had found herself quite to her own astonishment having fun dancing and talking the night away.  He was dashing, debonair and quite charming, not to mention a fantastic dancer.  As the evening had drawn to a close he had offered to walk her back to her apartment above the archery shop she ran, which had once been her late husband Calistones.  Seeing it as nothing more than a chivalrous gesture by a knight, she had agreed.  Outside the door to her apartment she had been about to say goodnight to the young man when her eyes met his and she discovered that the Shayde family had certain abilities that had been granted them by their dark God as a reward for their fathers devoted service. One of those abilities was the vampires mesmerizing gaze, and he had caught Tasha in that gaze.  Though she knew all too well what had happened next, because of the mesmerism it had always been something of a hazy memory to her, like a barely remembered dream.  It had been one of the most passionate nights of her life, she knew that, and she had thoroughly enjoyed it as it was happening.  But the following morning when she awoke she had known it for what it had been… rape.  She had thought of confronting young Shayde, but he and his family had already moved on, so she had kept the incident to herself.  There hadn’t been any real emotional scarring from the attack as he had used his power to make her want it, but that didn’t change her knowledge of what had happened.

                And now, the first time she had seen him since that night, he was trying to extend an olive branch… hoping to make peace between them.  She turned and met his eyes, taking the measured risk, knowing what it could mean.  “I appreciate you acknowledging what happened Sir Erlyk, perhaps in time I can forgive… but not yet.”

                He nodded.  “I understand, but the remorse is genuine.”  He paused and she thought for a moment he was going to leave her to her thoughts, but instead he took a deep breath and said, “It’s real you know.”  She arched an eyebrow at him questioningly.  “This… darkness within my soul.  I can’t explain it, but its there.  It always has been, for as long as I can remember.  It’s like… like a monster that shares my body, appearing in moments of my weakness.  It’s a constant struggle to keep it at bay, and I often fail and then it leads me to do some truly awful things. That night was one such time… I remember thinking as we were dancing that you were a woman I could easily have fallen for, in spite of our different faiths.  I wanted you badly, there is no use denying it.  But what happened… that had not been my intent.”  She watched his face as he talked, seeing him in profile as he gazed out into the dark forest, apparently unable to look into her face as he said these things.  She saw strain there, but in his eyes was a need for her to hear this, and she thought it might have been truth, though she couldn’t understand it.  Did he have a multiple personality disorder?  She had heard of such things, though they were very rare.  Most of the time he was a polite man, if not overtly kind, and he seemed chivalrous most of the time, as a knight could be.  But she had seen that darkness first hand and now she wondered, perhaps for the first time, what or who had given him that scar down the left side of his face.  It was a horrid wound, marring his dashing good looks, but she found that rather than making him hideous it added character to his face… made him somehow harder looking, and that was appealing on some level.  She shook her head   at herself, wondering at her innate desire to always believe the best of people.  It was something that she shared with Ariana... she wondered if it would get either of them into trouble one day.

                “Was that your attempt at an apology Sir Erlyk?” she asked him, a slight smile quirking her full pink lips, “If so… it needs a little work.”

                He smiled, though the expression didn’t quite touch his eyes.  “Perhaps you can help me to improve upon it.”  With that he rose and turned away, walking to the other side of the camp to stand the rest of his watch.  She turned her head, watching him go and as he settled onto a tree stump across the clearing from her she allowed herself to wonder if he was truly sorry, or if he was simply trying to endear himself to her.  She could imagine either scenario being accurate.  As she turned back to her perusal of the forest she became aware of the feeling that she was being watched.  Glancing up into the tree branches above her she saw young Shadow Walker, still lounging in the V of his chosen bed, his eyes open and watching.  She saw his hand drift away from the dagger at his belt, then his eyes closed.  She couldn’t help but smile… with friends like him a Strut around to watch her back, she figured she didn’t have anything to worry about from Sir Erlyk Shayde, the Black Knight of Errgaunt.

                Midday the next day found them already high into the mountains of Trey’Elden, moving along trails and through passes that wouldn’t have been known to any but a native of these mountains.  Though by his own admission it had been many years since Strut had come here, he still had a better than average knowledge of how to navigate these mountains.  As they came out of one particularly narrow pass into a biting cold wind Tasha shivered and pulled her cloak more firmly about herself, then looked out over the scene that spread below them.  It looked to be a village, spread along the bottom of a small arroyo, but there was no visible sign of life.  No one moving about between the lodges, no smoke rising from chimneys, no animals bleating their dislike of the weather.  It was eerie. 

                “Where are we?”  Alex asked, pulling her horse to a stop beside Skulls, who was beside Strut.  They were all looking out over the small village.

                “This settlement belonged to the people of the Cold Stone tribe, one of four they held.  A small tribe, traders mostly, not very warlike.”  Strut told them.

                Shayde spoke up then, having stopped beside Tasha.  “It doesn’t look as though anyone is home.”  Strut nodded in silent agreement with the knight.  “We should go and get a closer look.”

                It didn’t take long to do as he suggested, there weren’t more than twenty lodges throughout the whole village.  There was no one alive, though several bodies were found.  One such, discovered in the very center of the village, had been killed while he knelt with his hands tied behind his back.  He was now slumped onto his side, his throat having been slit.  The ground was dark with dried blood where he had pumped it into the dry earth.  “There are a few others scattered throughout the village.”  Skull informed the others as they stared down at the dead man.

                Strut nodded toward the body, “This was their champion.  He was killed as a message… they wanted the people of this village to know that they couldn’t stand against them.  They were in charge.”

                “Who is they?”  Shayde asked, narrowing his eyes at the dead body.

                Strut shook his head, having no answers for that.  Tasha stepped forward and crouched by the dead man, reaching out with one end of her longbow to turn him onto his front so that she could better see his bindings.  “These aren’t ropes, they’re manacles.  That would indicate it wasn’t another tribe trying to beat them into submission.”  She had had some experience with the tribes herself, though not so extensive as Strut of course.

                The barbarian nodded.  “No other tribe would have been so… callous in their takeover.  This was done by outsiders.”

                “Any idea how much farther we have to go till we reach your friends… and whoever is responsible for this?”  Skull asked Strut.

                “We should arrive by nightfall, the mountains aren’t so vast that one can’t move through them in as little as three days, if they know how.”  Strut answered.

                “Then I suggest we keep moving, none of this sits too well with me.”  Erlyk said, then turned back for his horse.

                True to his word, Strut had them at the location of the excavation by nightfall.  Indeed, they arrived with a couple of hours to spare.  Five of them, Shayde, Strut, Bryant, Tasha and Skull lay at the crest of a hill looking over the vast encampment of barbarians while Alex had stayed back with the horses.  She wasn’t too happy about the arrangement, but she had agreed that she was the best with the animals and so she had stayed, though had had to promise that no action would be taken without including her.

                “What do you suppose is going on down there?”  Tasha asked softly.

                “Those tunnels are ancient,” Strut said, motioning at the cave entrance that they could see people moving in and out of at random, there were a couple of armored figures standing by the entrance as well, “my people have long explored them but turned up little.  Obviously, they have been digging, excavating chambers from within.”

                “What do you suppose they’re after?”  Shayde asked, his dark eyes sweeping the camp.  “Are there any legends pertaining this area that your people pass down?”

                “One.” The barbarian said with a nod.  “It is believed that our tribes are directly descended from the first Barbarian, called Trey and that the woman he took as his mate was none other than Sif, the Asgardian Goddess.  Another of our more famous legends tells that she returned to us once, to bestow upon us a job that she knew we, as her children, were uniquely qualified for.  She claimed that there was something within those tunnels that was dangerous to the world at large and that she charged use with its protection.  This was many thousands of years ago, so whatever she might have said was in there, if she did, has been lost to history.  The tribe that was specifically charged with the protection of that series of tunnels is gone too, they were all but eradicated almost eighty years ago.”  Tasha shot a glance at Strut then, but said nothing.

                “Something is happening!”  Skull hissed, pointing toward the camp.  The others fell silent as they watched two men emerge from the cave, one a few minutes after the other.  Both men crossed the camp quickly, going into separate lodges. 

                “What do you suppose that’s about?”  Tasha asked.  Then her eyes widened as a familiar form suddenly emerged from another tent and started toward one of the ones that the first men had disappeared into.  Tasha nudged Strut, “That’s the assassin that kidnapped the Countess and Ishara!”

                “Shadow Stalker!”  Strut growled, almost instinctively reaching for his axes.

                “Hold.”  Shayde said sharply and everyone looked at him.  He watching the encampment, but he spoke to them softly.  “We don’t know yet what we face, let’s wait and see what develops.”

                None were too happy about that, but they waited.  Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long as two figures emerged from the same tent.  “It’s Ariana!”  Tasha said excitedly and Strut nodded, his eyes narrowing as it seemed to him like the paladin and the assassin were working together.  “What are they doing?”  They had turned as one and were heading toward the lodge where the first man to emerge from the cave entrance had disappeared.

                Within a few moments they saw that some armed and armored men nearby were attracted by sounds from the tent and started toward it.  “Things are coming along quickly, we need to get down there.”  Strut said, looking toward the knight.

                To the barbarians surprise, Shayde nodded his agreement.  “They’ll need help quickly, they’re sorely outnumbered.”  He turned to Tasha, “Are they in range of your bow?”  The elf nodded.  “Give us a few minutes… say three minutes, then start shooting.  We’ll go collect Alex and see if we can’t do something to help them out.”  By this time Ariana and the assassin had emerged from the second tent and were facing off against the guards.  Tasha saw the large barbarian who had preceded them into the first tent emerge from it.  As Strut, Bryant and Shayde moved off to mount their assault she watched as Ariana and Shadow Stalker dispatched the guards, then the paladin started toward a tent that Tasha noticed for the first time had collapsed.  There were a number men who she could now see had dark skin and white hair standing around the collapsed tent, stabbing at something that was thrashing about underneath it.  Ariana started that way at a run and she saw Shadow Stalker race to confront the barbarian, who had retrieved a sword from somewhere.  Her eyes drifted toward movement at the mouth of the caves, there were more armed men and women streaming from it, apparently attracted by the sounds of battle.  She could see that she wasn’t going to be able to wait any longer… her friends were in grave peril.  She stood up, raising her bow and drawing an arrow, notching it to the string she drew it back to her cheek and sighted along the shaft.  Ariana and her troubles were outside her range, but the assassin, who was fighting the barbarian, was easily within her weapons range.  But which one to help?  Her first instinct was to help the barbarians, who seemed to be the oppressed people here, but she had clearly seen that the assassin and Ariana had been working together.  Did that mean he had switched sides?

                “Damnation!”  She swore, coming to a decision as the two men knocked each other away with a flurry of blades, opening her up for a shot.  She released the bowstring and heard the familiar thrum, like a musical note by her ear.  She saw the arrow land, quivering in the ground between the two men and they both turned to her.  She was already drawing forth a second arrow and this one she released quickly, compensating for the wind which had blown the first slightly off course.  The arrow took the barbarian in the side of the leg as he lunged at the assassin.  The large man went down with a howl that the elf’s sharp ears picked up from her position seventy yards away.  The assassin turned toward her fully, the barbarian writhing in pain on the floor and nodded in her direction.  Tasha lowered her bow a moment and pointed, wordlessly, toward the caves.  The assassin turned, evidently saw the warriors streaming from it toward him and didn’t waste any time acknowledging her warning, he simply raced to meet them.  He was uncommonly fast for a mortal, and was quickly lost amid the armored foes.  She could see by the way their advance faltered and the flashing blades turning inward that he was battling them and she raised her bow again, determined to help him.  Not wanting to hit the assassin by mistake, not until she knew for certain if he was a target, she started to pick off the armored warriors on the outskirts of the melee.  It took no time for the warriors, whoever they were, to realize that they were picked off by an archer from a distance.  Her heart fluttered a bit in her chest when she saw a group of them break away from the main fight and start rushing in her direction.  There appeared to be about a dozen of them and she started to direct her arrows at them.  Two fell quickly to her accuracy, then she saw Strut and Bryant step from the cover of some rocks and engage the others.  Four of the remaining ten stopped to deal with them.  She worried about her friends, but knew that the other six warriors coming her way were more important.  Where were Shayde, Skull and Alex?  She didn’t know, but she didn’t have time to wonder, either.  She sighted in on the remaining six of the original twelve that had been dispatched to deal with her and quickly took down two.  The other four slowed their advance, diving for cover, the first smart thing they had done, though she had the high ground and their cover wasn’t very good from her vantage.

                She smirked, raising her bow and almost nonchalantly killing another.  The other three realized that with her so much higher than them their cover was useless.  They broke from it and started sprinting up the hill.  Her eyes widened to see one of the men begin to outdistance the others, racing ahead of the back, bounding up toward her like a gazelle.  She fired at him, but he leapt to the side and forward, closer to her and avoided the arrow.  Now her eyes narrowed as she sighted down another shaft and released and again he dodged.  “What the Hades?” she muttered.  The other two warriors were following him up the side of the mountain, taking advantage of her apparent distraction as she tried to take down the first man.  Not wanting to find herself in a face to face confrontation with three armed men, she adjusted her aim and started firing at the other two.  The first one went down at her first shot, clutching at the air as he fell, then tumbling back down the hillside.  The second managed to dodge her first shot, but the second took him in the gut and he went tumbling after the other man.  She turned her head again, looking for the first one she had been shooting at, wondering where he had gone.  He had vanished in the time it took her to kill his two comrades.

                A sound behind her had her whirling around, reaching for an arrow in her quiver.  Her fingers closed on empty air, she had used her entire supply of arrows already.  He crouched before her, his white hair long and stringy, hanging over his face, partially obstructing the eyes.  Those eyes sent a chill through Tasha, they were wide and white rimmed, the irises so dark as to indistinguishable from the pupils.  His ears were visible to either side of his head, the sharp points jutting up from the greasy looking hair.  He wore a dark suit that looked like mostly leather, save for the chain shirt… no, she realized that wasn’t right as she looked closer.  The shirt wasn’t chain, it looked to be woven of humanoid teeth, darkened with age.  She felt her stomach churn and took an involuntary step backward, he was grinning at her, the leer on his face more frightening than those she had seen on the faces of stone gargoyles mounted on temples to dark gods.  So this was a Shadow Elf, she had heard of them though this was the first she had encountered.  She wondered if he was representative of his people, if so then she was happy to have not encountered one before.  She could see by the wild, clouded gleam in his eyes that he was utterly insane and the way he played his gaze over her while reaching down to fondle his crotch sent a jolt of fear through her.

                “Pretty.” He said and his voice was like dragging a broken bottle over gravel.  She swallowed, dropped her bow and reached for Elven Grace, the long sword that had once been her husbands.  As it cleared its scabbard his smile widened and he stood, showing himself to be several inches taller than her.  He reached over and drew his own sword, the blade made of a blue black steel that she was certain Strut could have named for her.  “Play!” he said, licking his lips as he ran his eyes over her.

                “Gods give me strength.” She whispered, then launched herself at the insane shadow elf.

                “I count ten of them,” Bryant muttered to Strut, “they’re heading for the elf, what do we do?” The barbarian looked at him askance, as though the answer were obvious.  After a moment, he answered it for himself.  “We get in their way, don’t we?”

                Strut smiled and that was all the answer the rogue needed.  The big warrior already had his axes in hand, so Shadow Walker drew forth his short sword and dagger, rolled his shoulders to loosen them up and gave a little nod.  The shadow elves came level with their hiding place, behind a small outcropping of rocks and as they did Strut bellowed his standard war cry “Bastard!” and flung his left hand axe at the nearest elf.  It took him high in the side of the chest, knocking him to the side and then to the ground.  Bryant sprang straight up and then pushed off the rock face, launching himself at the elves and spun as he came down.  He felt the resistance in his sword as it cut into one of the shadow elves, then the vibration ran up his arm as the second parried his blade and he landed lightly, legs bent at the knees, facing the two elves that had stopped to deal with him.  Another of the dark skinned elves had paused when it saw its comrade taken down by the flying axe and when it saw Strut step forward he smiled and spun his sword in his hand, testing its weight.

                “My sword is thirsty.”  The shadow elf told the barbarian as behind him Shadow Walker entered a deadly dance, sword and dagger flying as the other two shadow elves circled around him, one wounded the other not, attempting to meet his assault.

                Strut walked slowly toward his adversary, stooping at one point to jerk his axe free of the dead body without missing a step.  “It’s also ugly, but I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

                The shadow elf narrowed its eyes at him and then came on hard and fast, spinning and kicking high into the air.  Strut, caught slightly off guard by the speed and ferocity of the attack gave up some ground, his eyes narrowing as he looked for a pattern in the other mans movements.  Beyond them he could see the remaining six elves continuing up the hill.  As he continued to retreat he saw two of them fall and couldn’t keep from smirking.  That elf was a damn fine shot.

                His attacker came out of a particularly complex acrobatic maneuver, tucking into a ball and then stretching out as it arced over his head, planting its feet against the rock face behind him and then pushing off, sailing back over his head and spiraling around.  His sword flashed downward and Strut, who had followed the movement the whole way, simply ducked.  As the shadow elf flipped over and landed on its feet he brought his sword down in an overhand slice.  Strut extended his left hand axe and caught the sword on the top of the double blade, where it curved downward toward the haft.  Twisting more with his powerful shoulders and hips than anything else, the barbarian brought his right hand axe around in a powerful swing, putting as much force behind it as he could.  He roared for effect as well as added power and as his blade struck the shadow elf’s the slighter mans sword shattered and the hilt was knocked from his hand.  The elf watched his blade disintegrate with wide eyes, then they widened still more as that left hand axe dropped toward his head, the inward curve of the two blades impacting his forehead and staggering him backward.  Strut followed through with that attack, stepping forward and swinging the right hand axe, burying one of its dual blades as deep in the shadow elf’s chest as he could get it.  As the elf fell away Strut turned to where Shadow Walker was still dueling the other two elves, and while it looked like the kid was doing okay, even enjoying himself somewhat, they really didn’t have time for what the barbarian saw as showboating.

                Bryant spun in the center of a circle that the two elves were pacing around, their blades all a blinding whirl of the fading light of the sun.  The thief’s hooded cape was a further distraction as it swirled about, but the two elves were apparently oblivious to Strut.  As the closest one continued to circle Shadow Walker, moving so that its back was to him, the barbarian stepped forward and swung, taking the elf’s head off at the shoulders.  As it crumpled to the ground Shadow Walker ducked a swing from the other elf and stabbed low, driving the point of his dagger into the side of the elf’s knee.  As the shadow elf screamed the thief stood up, the point of his sword piercing the mans head under the chin and then bursting out the top of his skull.  Strut winced, but didn’t look away as the elf toppled, the thief pulling his blade free as it went.

                Both men turned to look at the ascending slope, silently counting dead bodies.  “I count five.”  Shadow Walker said softly.

                Strut nodded.  “That means that one of them made it through and is up there with her now.”

                “Do we go help?”  the youthful thief asked, his gaze directed upward toward the crest of the hill where Tasha had been standing a moment before, firing down into the enemy.

                “No time.  She’s on her own.”  He turned the kid toward the encampment where they could hear the sounds of battle.  “Besides, there’s only one of them.  Poor sap doesn’t stand a chance.”  But as they jogged away toward the vast encampment he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder, concern plain on his broad, rugged features.

                Erlyk Shayde, Skull and Alex crouched behind a cluster of bushes near the edge of the encampment.  They were close to where the assassin had inserted himself into the flow of shadow elves, and they could see him fighting there, katana flashing as he spun to and fro, parrying and slicing with abandon.  “You two go see how much damage you can do helping the assassin, I’m going to go help Lady Ariana, see if we can free any of her cohorts.  We’re going to need all the help we can get here.”

                The two mercenaries nodded, Skull even smiling as he adjusted his grip on the two weapons he was intending to hand out devastation with.  One was a wicked looking spiked mace, called a morningstar while the other was a large double edged claymore sword.  Alex drew a matched pair of long swords from her shapely hips.  She looked up at Skull with a sexy smile and asked, “Ready lover?”

                “Hells yes!”  And he leapt from cover, charging with a roar toward the cluster of shadow elves and the assassin fighting for his life in their midst. 

                Before she rushed out behind him Alex glanced over at Shayde, also a lover of hers though Skull was not aware of this.  “Don’t get dead handsome.”  Then she turned and charged into the fray as well, screaming like a banshee the entire way.

                Shayde watched them go for a moment, then he stood and started racing deeper into the camp, away from the main thrust of the battle.  He had seen Lady Ariana Moonstone move in this direction earlier and now he was searching for her.  He drew his bastard sword from the scabbard on his back, his eyes darting about, looking for signs of danger as he passed.  What he found was a trail of dead bodies, telling him in no uncertain terms that he was going the right way.  Shortly, the shouts and ringing of metal on metal told him that he had found his quarry and he rounded a large lodge to find the flame haired paladin in the midst of a three on one battle.  Beyond where she dueled three shadow elf guards, he could see a rather short and stout form thrashing about beneath the heavy canvas of the collapsed tent.  He paused as he approached, awed by the sight of the woman.  She was beyond beautiful, her long red hair flashing and billowing about her head as she twisted and spun in the midst of the three armed and armored guards.  Her sword, which looked far too large for her slight frame to handle adequately, never the less twirled and whirled as though it weighed nothing in her skilled grip.  In his mind he had only ever met one other woman that could match her beauty, and he had left her at the top of the hill with a longbow and quiver of arrows.

                A movement at his feet drew his eyes downward and he started to strike with his sword, but stopped when he noticed a large greenish spider scampering away.  It paused briefly at his feet and he had the distinct impression that it was looking up at him, then it raced on, deeper into the camp.  Having been shaken from his reverie by the spider, Shayde stepped up and drove his sword through the back of the closest of the three guards, severing his spine and dropping him instantly.  The remaining two, and the paladin, noted his arrival and the guards split, one turning to face him with spear at the ready while the other retained its position with Ariana.

                “What the nine hells are you doing here?”  the paladin cried, not sounding all that relieved for the sudden backup.

                “Later!” he growled, his sword spinning down and away to knock the point of the spear aside as the shadow elf thrust it at him.  He spun up along the shaft, his sword flashing and the shadow elf guard ducked beneath it, turning its shoulder into the Black Knight and slamming him away.  The human staggered, then turned in time parry another strike from the spear, this one coming as a slash from the right.  Erlyk twisted his wrists, slipping his blade beneath the spear and deflecting it upward, then he slid the super sharp blade down the shaft of the spear and severed the fingers of the shadow elf where they held it.  He screamed as the spear dropped to the ground, staggering back, blood spouting from his severed fingertips.  Shayde growled and lunged, running the elf through with his blade and then jerking it away.  He turned, the dead elf already forgotten and made to assist Ariana with hers, but was just in time to see her parry aside a spear, then step forward and her fame sword, Vindicator, flashed upward, sending the shadow elf’s head flying.

                She spun, her emerald eyes flashing as she lifted the enchanted blade and pointed it at him.  “Why are you here Shayde?  Are you involved in this mess somehow?”

                He rolled his eyes.  “That’s crass, even from you!  I’m here to help you!  I’ve brought your people with me from Errgaunt.”

                Her eyes widened at that.  “Strut and the others?  They’re here?”

                He nodded.  “Three of them anyway, they’re all that’s left after their mission went sour.”  She scowled, about to ask him something when he said, “My father and I rescued them, all right?  Now we’re here to help!”  She still didn’t look ready to accept his aid, but at that moment the knight was flung to the ground by a trio of bright bolts of energy that crashed into him with a series of sizzling pops.  He hit the ground and rolled, coming up to a knee and looking toward where the magic missiles had come from.  The shadow elf pacing toward him with calm, measured assurance was slightly built, with white hair hanging to his shoulders and red eyes.  He had a sword in one hand while the other had a magical glow encasing it.  Ariana started to step in front of what looked to be a warrior mage of some kind, but Shayde pushed himself to his feet with his sword and growled at her.  “No!  Go help your other people, free them if you can.  I’ll handle this.”  She glanced between Shayde and the shadow elf but seemed to realize she hadn’t much choice but to trust him.  She turned and raced over to the collapsed tent, shouting something to the dwarf trapped underneath that Shayde couldn’t hear.  His opponent now had his full and undivided attention.  “You face Erlyk Shayde, First Knight of Errgaunt.  Who might you be?”

                The dark elf saluted the knight with his sword, a gesture the knight found oddly familiar.  He realized before the other man spoke that he faced a fellow nobleman.  “I am Athan’Dae D’Spayr, of the royal house of Tr’Ellysemir.” 

                Shayde cocked his head slightly, pacing to the side now as the dark elf did the same.  They started to circle each other, sizing each other up.  “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

                The other smiled softly, his red eyes seeming to dance with mirth in response to a joke only he had heard.  “You will soon enough.”  With that Athan’Dae charged in, sword swinging left to right but kept close to the body so as not to give a ready opening.  Shayde’s bastard sword came up and the blades rang together, a blue spark flashing as they connected.  The two men strained together, testing each other physically and Shayde proved the stronger.  He shoved the other man away and Athan’Dae recovered quickly, dancing back in, faking a stab and then slashing outward, the blade aiming across the knights stomach.  Erlyk Shayde first twisted to avoid the stab, then brought his sword across and then up, deflecting the slash high.  Athan’Dae reached under their upraised arm, his hand open, palm facing outward.  There was a flash of something, not quite light but with the same dazzling effect and Erlyk felt himself flung backward.  He crashed into the side of a tent and it collapsed, trapping him briefly within the folds of material.  He didn’t thrash, knowing that seconds stood between him and death.  Instead he slashed the material open and stood, seeing the warrior mage standing several yards away, hands waving before him as he mumbled a spell.  As he finished his casting he thrust his hands outward, palms open but together at the bases, fingers splayed wide.  A bolt of dark energy, like a shadowy lightning bolt shot forth and Shayde, knowing he couldn’t let that energy touch him, dove to the side, somersaulting away as the shadow bolt struck the tent behind him.  He came out of the roll in a crouch, glancing over at the tent to find that it seemed completely unharmed.  For some reason that unsettled him more than if it had been a slagged heap, for her knew that if it had struck him the results would not have been so anticlimactic.  He looked to his opponent with a newfound respect.

                The fighting was beginning to get intense outside, so he decided he needed to find a place to hide where he might be of more use to his friends from a distance.  Casting healing magic and the like from the safety of one of the strong lodges or large tents.  Rachnid scampered through the encampment in his spider form, aware of the fighting breaking out around him and knowing that there weren’t nearly enough of his side to hope to hold out against the shadow cult, as they had by now learned the shadow elves were calling themselves.  He saw a likely tent with the flap still astray and scampered inside, aware of the sharp, metallic scent of blood even before he had resumed his goblin shape.  The priest glanced around, seeing that there had obviously been a fight here of some kind, then he saw the two bodies lying to one side and with a wrenching feeling in his heart, he recognized the form of the barbarian princess lying on her back, her throat slit open, her beautiful blue eyes staring sightlessly.

                “No.” he croaked, dropping to his hands and knees and crawling toward her.  He pulled her head up into his lap.  “Not fair!”  He glanced over at the other body, a large barbarian warrior he had been and judging by the state of undress it was obvious to the goblin what he had been doing to the princess.  He supposed that Ariana and that assassin had intervened, but evidently they had been too late to save her.  “I liked you.” He said to the girl, reaching down and brushing hair from her face.  “You were so nice… so innocent about the world outside of your tribe.  You deserved better.”  He tilted his head back, looking toward the roof of the tent though his actual attention was on the heavens beyond.  “She deserved better than this you know!”  He felt a little shiver run through his body and his hand, where it rested against her cheek, suddenly started to glow.  His eyes grew wide as he watched, not daring to move the hand.  Slowly her chest, which of course he had noticed as much as any man would have, started to rise and fall as she began to breathe.  Her blue eyes blinked a few times then started to shift about as though looking around for the first time.  The garish wound across her throat was gone… Shayla, Daughter of Rolfe had come back to them.

                “What… where…?”  she picked her head up and looked around.  “I was….” 

                Rachnid wondered if she had suffered some form of brain damage while she was gone, she seemed incapable of finishing a simple sentence.  “Dead.” He supplied.

                She sat up fully and twisted around to face him, her blue eyes playing over his green face, the scowl showing that she was trying to place him and failing.  “I… I’m having trouble remembering.”

                “I’d imagine that’s natural.  Your brain stopped working for… well, I don’t really know how long to be honest with you.  But a long while.  I’m sure it will come back to you in a few moments.”  He assured her, though he was in no way certain of any such thing.

                “Did you bring me back?” she asked, her blue eyes appraising as they played over his dirty robes and the spider web tattoo on his bald scalp.

                He puffed out his little chest proudly.  “Yup!  That I did!”  Then he leaned toward her, “It seems Rachnos is rather fond of you.  Or maybe it’s your people he likes.  You had better build a shrine to him if you survive this battle.”

                Her lips quirked in amusement, then she tilted her head.  “Battle?”  Suddenly the sounds from outside filtered into her fogged brain and her eyes widened.  She paled noticeably and he could tell that her memory had returned.

                “Well, that was quicker than I thought it would be!” He said brightly.

                “By Odin’s beard… my people need me!”  She scrambled to her feet, casting about the cluttered tent for any sign of her sword.  “Where is my weapon?”

                At that moment a shadow elf in chain mail armor charged into the tent and halted right inside the flap.  His mouth had been open as though to call to someone but when he saw the pair of them he started to raise his weapon.  Rachnid gave a little bleat of fright and scampered behind Shayla who struck like a coiled snake, jumping the few feet that separated them and grabbing the mans sword arm.  She twisted, shifting his weight over her hip and flung him to the ground, then drove her knee down as hard as she could into the side of his neck.  It broke with a wet sounding crack and the man convulsed once, then laid still.  “Guess yours will have to do.”  She said, taking the shadow elf’s black bladed long sword.  She turned to regard Rachnid, “You coming?”

                He regarded her with his head tilted to one side in a pose that many cats have used over the years.  “Where are you going?”

                She imitated the gesture, “To save the day, of course.”

                “You need my help for that?”  he asked, seemingly astounded.

                She smiled, “Didn’t you just bring me back from the dead?”  He nodded sagely.  “From where I’m standing, that makes you a hero.”

                He shook his head.  “I’m no hero, I’m just a goblin with good taste in Gods!”

                She smiled, took two steps toward him and dropped to her knees before him.  She put her sword down, took his face in her hands and pulled it to hers, pressing her soft lips to his.  For a moment he did nothing, his eyes widening in surprise, then he seemed to melt and would have fallen had it not been for her hands on his head holding him upright.  She pulled back and looked into his dark eyes.  “Well little goblin priest,” she said, kissing the tip of his long, hooked nose, “you’re certainly my hero, and that’s not a debt I take lightly.  Stay here if you are frightened, but make no mistake, you’ll be needed out there.”  She stood, taking her borrowed sword and turned toward the flap to the tent.

                From there she turned back to regard him.  Rachnid was still standing, leaning forward slightly, his rubbery lips still pursed, a dreamy look in his eyes.  Then he blinked and straightened, his gaze settling on the beautiful barbarian by the entrance.  “I suppose I had better come.  You may need me to resurrect you again!”

                She laughed.  “That I may.”  Then she said, “Our goal is the cave entrance.  I will have people inside, when they see me they will want to fight.  Can you free them?  Do you have magic enough for that little one?”

                He swallowed nervously.  “I… I think so.”

                She regarded him shrewdly for a moment, then she came forward and leaned down to place her lips close to his tall, pointed ear.  “If you can find it in yourself to free my people, I’ll….”  The rest of her sentence was lost amid the roar of the battle outside, but his sharp goblin hearing took in every word and as she finished speaking his eyes widened in stunned surprise.

As she pulled away and looked into his eyes he stammered, “You will?”  It came out as a bit of a squeak.

                She smiled.  “On my honor as a Daughter of Rolfe.”

                A moment later the little goblin squared his shoulders and headed for the door.  “Come on then, we have a people to save!”  Smiling, Shayla followed him from the tent.

                Um’Quel D’Spayr was used to desire, it was the driving force in his life.  He obsessed over things because of his desire for them, his tooth fetish was the most obvious example of this.  But never had he desired anything or anyone so strongly as he hungered for this high elf he now faced off against at the top of the hill.  She was lethal, having killed many of his men as they rushed up the hill, not missing often except when she shot at him.  She was beautiful… Gods but she was beautiful!... he had never seen her equal.  Not even his sister, Fae’Rena could hold a light to this woman, and he lusted after his sister since she came of age.  Even as she launched herself at him, sword in hand, a snarl twisting her perfect lips he felt the desire swell within him.

                Avoiding the strike had been an easy thing, just as avoiding her arrows had been easy earlier.  He was fast, had been fast since he found the boots he now never took off.  They augmented his speed into something… well, far more than mortals should have been capable of.  As she lunged at him, a sword that was as beautiful as she flashing through the air, he simply seemed to disappear and reappear behind her.  She corrected her own balance, spinning and slashing, not certain how close behind her he was.  He kept his distance, his own sword still held loosely at his side.  She crouched, watching him warily, as the mouse watches the coiled snake.  His crazed eyes dropped to the unbelievable swell of her breasts, liking how they rose and fell rapidly with her exertions.  There was a sheen of sweat across them, causing her honeyed flesh to gleam in the almost non-existent sunlight.  It was getting cold now, as it always did in these mountains at night, but being from the Deep Dark he was used to the cold, couldn’t feel it.  He figured that wouldn’t be true of her, it would numb her hands, slow her reactions.

                Um’Quel heard the sound of the fighting in the valley behind him, knew that his brothers and maybe his sister were in there battling.  He didn’t care, they didn’t understand him, never had and didn’t want to.  He was fine here, apart from the rest of the fight… with a trophy none of them would be able to match.  Once he had her that is.

                He saw her shiver, saw the fear pass through her eyes.  He had seen that same reaction in other victims, knew that his gaze unsettled people.  He liked it, he had long ago learned how to use it.  In this elf, knowing that she feared him… it aroused him.  Um’Quel knew he was insane, people had been telling him that his whole life… the difference between him and them?  He liked being who he was!

                Tasha saw the lust burning beneath the crazed gleam in the shadow elfs eyes.  Knew that if she gave him half a chance he would shred her honor atop this hill and probably keep her for his enjoyment.  The thought sent a shudder through her and she determined that she would die before that would happen, by her own hand if necessary.  She adjusted her grip on Elven Grace, watching him as he stood there, seemingly aloof.  She hadn’t been prepared for the speed of his movement, one second he had been in front of her as she lunged the next he had been behind her.  She had half expected him to strike from the rear, but when she had slashed as she spun she found him standing a few feet away, well outside the range of her weapon.

                She was way outmatched here, and she knew that.  This man was a warrior, and mentally unstable to boot.  That made him trained and unpredictable, which was a deadly combination.  One on one, she couldn’t stand against him, but his insanity was his weakness, she understood that perfectly well.  If she could outsmart him, use that mental instability against him, she had a chance.  But how to do that?

                The idea struck her out of the blue and frankly, she hated it as soon as she thought of it, but she saw no other chance for success.  Steeling herself for what was to come she screamed a challenge and rushed at him, Elven Grace slashing the air before her  in one of the more complex sword forms she had been taught by her husband nearly two decades before.  Swordsmanship was not her strong suit, her affinity was in archery, they had both recognized that.  But Cal had insisted that if she were ever in a fight and had to be up close and personal, it was necessary that she know how to wield a blade, at least the rudiments of it.

                The shadow elf’s eyes narrowed as she advanced on him, his remaining disconcertingly still as his eyes followed the flashing movements of her blade.  When she was within striking distance he did just that, but not in a way she could have anticipated. He never adjusted his stance, never dropped into a defensive crouch, he simply stood there and stared, watching her come on fast.  When she was close enough he lashed out with a leg, leaning back and driving his booted foot into her, just below the stomach and above the groin.  Pain lanced through her and she cried out as she doubled over and staggered back, then he stepped in and wrapped slender fingers about her wrist, twisting it to the side.  She winced as her hand opened involuntarily and Elven Grace fell to the rocky turf beneath their feet.  He suddenly turned, twisting her hand the other way and she straightened somewhat as he pulled her toward him, taking her weight on a hip and flinging her violently to the floor.  Tasha landed hard, arching her spine as pain lanced through her, her mouth opening in a soundless scream as any air she had had was forced from her lungs by the impact.  She had been thrown to the ground away from her blade and even had she known where it was she had lost the mobility to go after it, paralyzed as she was by pain.

                Suddenly he loomed above her, his feet to either side of the elf’s slender waist, the crazed gleam in his eyes fired with lust as they undressed her.  She couldn’t catch her breath to say anything, she couldn’t move from the pain coursing through her.  It would be several seconds at least before she regained any kind of mobility.  He dropped to his knees, pinning her elbows beneath them, straddling her waist.  She was pinned now, all but helpless.  Were she able to move as yet her legs were free, and if her plan were to work they had to stay that way.  Hopefully, this crazed dark elf would be too distracted with the rest of her to notice her lower half for a bit.

                His sword came forward, the flat of the blade cool against her cheek as he turned her head to the side.  The tip of the sword parted her mahogany colored hair and he gazed at the delicate point of her ear, then he suddenly tossed the sword away. She heard it clatter against the rocks, felt his weight shift forward on his knees and winced as pain lanced through her arms.  Then his bare hand closed on her chin and he turned her face to the front again, then reached up with his other hand and pried her mouth apart.  He smiled at her even, shining white teeth and even slid a thumb up over her plump lower lip to caress the lower row almost lovingly.

                ‘Freak!’ She thought, aware that she could slowly feel life returning to her limbs.  Her legs were tingling with that pins and needles feeling and she hoped he would stay distracted for a few moments longer.  He laughed, the sound like a high, wheezy series of sighs that sent chills through her anew.  He released her chin and let her mouth close, then he slid his hands down either side of her face and along the sides of her neck.  She feared for a moment he close his hands around her throat, choke her to unconsciousness and have her to himself.  But then his hands had moved to her shoulders and spread out to the sides along them.  His touch was vile, her skin crawled beneath his palms and when they slid down from her shoulders to caress her breasts, squeezing them through the stiff leather of her corset vest she felt bile rise in her throat.  He moaned aloud, delighting with the size and feel of them, then started to pull manically at the leather ties holding the front together.  It took her several minutes to lace them up whenever she donned her leathers, she knew it would take him a while to unlace them, and had in fact been somewhat relying on his desire to do so. 

                She started to move her legs then, trying not to shift too much beneath him, hoping he wouldn’t notice.  She bent them at the knees, planting the soles of her boots against the ground and gritted her teeth against the pain she knew this would cause.  There were rocks digging into her back, she could feel them through the leather on her back, and his weight on her elbows threatened to dislocate them if she wasn’t careful.  But this plan was all she had and she gave it everything she could muster.  Flexing the powerful muscles in her thighs and calves, she arched her back again and thrust her pelvis straight up, launching the elf into the air.  He grunted in surprise, his already wide eyes widening further and he landed hard on his side, scrambling quickly to right himself.  Tasha was moving as well, and since his magic boots didn’t help him with this kind of speed they were more evenly matched.  Rather than trying to stand or even sit, the elf rolled over, curled her fingers around a fist sized rock and then rolled back toward him. She had to roll twice to cover the distance, then she lashed out with the rick, slamming it against his temple. He grunted, his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground, unconscious. 

                Tasha groaned, but knew the fight was far from over and pushed herself to her feet.  She rolled the shadow elf to the edge of the hill and then kicked him over, watching him roll and bounce down the hillside, not wanting him to come back to haunt her during the rest of the battle.  After that it was a simple matter to recover Elven Grace and her bow.  Standing at the crest of the mountain she gazed down into the valley and took stock of the situation.  When she saw a certain dark haired woman and a short goblin trying to make their way along the outskirts of the fighting, toward the entrance of the cave, she thought her skills might be best suited to helping them.  With a look of grim determination, Tasha started down the hill, stopping whenever she came to one of her previously fired arrows and jerking it from either the ground or the body it was jutting from and firing into the melee, trying to keep the path before Shayla and Rachnid clear.

                Strut and Bryant fought their way into the morass of shadow elves, his axes cleaving while the thief’s blades sliced and diced their way forward.  They made a formidable team and the tide of evil warriors seemed to part before them like an ocean before a the bow of a great ship.  Strut was beginning to wonder where so many of these shadow elves could have come from, thinking them to be nearly endless when they suddenly gained a small reprieve, reaching a spot where they trod on several dead elves. Standing at its center, a katana dripping blood in his left hand, was the assassin known as Shadow Stalker.  His leathers were ripped in several places, sliced open in others and he was bleeding, but he seemed to be relatively unharmed for all of that.  He turned to them as they dropped the last three shadow elves that had been in that circle, his eyes narrowing on Strut then settling on Bryant.  The two’s eyes met and even the barbarian could sense something pass between the two, and then another wave of shadow elves was upon them.

                Strut turned his back to Bryant, who did likewise and Shadow Stalker, knowing they were allies at least in this fight, worked his way to them and put his back to theirs. The three of them, working in tandem, were enough to cut a swath through the shadow elves as they made their way, by unspoken consent, toward the mouth of the cave.  Shadow Walker, his sword and dagger flying, would constantly redirect his foes into the path of Strut’s broad axes while Shadow Stalker send head flying in ever direction, nearly as many spear heads and shadow elf.  The three men kept moving, making their way farther and farther through the shadow elf army, starting to notice that the numbers of enemies were thinning noticeably. 

                “Sorlushus Furem!”  The words roared through the encampment, echoing off the surrounding mountains and reverberating back into the camp.  All the fighting stopped as the magically augmented words carried over the noise of their clashing.  Though it was difficult to pinpoint where the speaker was located, somehow all their heads turned as one toward the center of the camp.  A small tent there burst into a brilliant blue flames and several shadow elves around them gasped in astonishment.  The top of the tent shredded and from it rose the form of a human man, likewise wreathed in blue fire, his brown hair seeming to blow in a wind no one else could feel.  His eyes blazed yellow and there seemed to be an electrical current crackling about his body.  From the base of the tent staggered two forms, a human woman and a dwarf, their heads craned around to see the awe inspiring sight of a mage in the middle of a Sorcerous Fury.  He spoke nothing more, in this state he no longer had need of spoken incantations.  He merely raised a hand and a massive fireball erupted forth, striking the ground a short ways away and Strut, who had followed the course of the fireball saw two men dive away, though one seemed to have dark skin and light hair and the fireball had set that hair ablaze.  Magnus’s other hand rose, drew back and then thrust forward and a series of six magic missiles launched forth, slamming into six shadow elves that were still gathered around Strut, Bryant and Shadow Stalker.  From there pandemonium erupted as the shadow elf force seemed to split into three parts.  The smaller group stayed to deal with the three of them while two larger groups went two different directions.  One toward the mage, where Ariana and Wolfgar stood ready to meet their charge and the other toward Erlyk Shayde, who stood alone by the fallen form of the shadow elf that had suffered the mages fireball.

                As the battle joined anew, Strut became aware of another groups battle off to his right and glanced that way.  There were Skull and Alex, fighting the same group of shadow elves and he and the rogues, making their way slowly toward the center to bolster their ranks.  Strut started his little trio moving to meet them, knowing that adding those two formidable warriors to the mix was going to greatly improve their odds of survival.  Shadow elves fell before them, more to the katana of Shadow Stalker it seemed than to either of the other two. He killed with a startling efficiency, no wasted movement, every strike going for the kill.  It was a matter of mere moments before they reached Skull and Alex and they were adjusting their three man formation to accommodate two more.  They formed a loose circle, all five of them with their backs to the others, fighting outward, repelling the shadow elves with a skill born of the will to live.  That was when the shadow elf with the light blue highlights in his hair stepped from the shadows within their ring of defense, those cast by their own bodies and drove a sword into Strut’s back.  He cried out, his knees buckling as the black blade of the long sword erupted from his side, the shadow elf having not been able to drive it cleanly through his middle.  The blade had been slightly redirected by his armor so that rather than running him through the center, it pierced him out the side.  The blood that erupted from him like a geyser was dark, nearly black, marking it as having come from an organ, likely a kidney.  The barbarian staggered forward, crumpling to one knee.

                “No!”  Shadow Walker cried and tried to step forward to help his friend.

                Alex reached out and grabbed the collar of the tunic he wore beneath his leathers, jerking him back to their formation as the shadow elves fell over the barbarian, their swords flashing and blood flying.  “There’s nothing we can do for him!  Break formation and we all die!”  A desperate need to kill these dark skinned intruders surged through the young rogue and he fought with a fierce abandon, his pair of blades now claiming as many as the assassins, life for life they killed, and while Shadow Walkers kills may not have been as succinct and Shadow Stalkers, they were no less effective.  Tears blinded his young eyes as he fought, still able to see where the shadow elves swarmed over his friend, which meant that Strut was still alive, still fighting them.

                The elf that had stabbed him had vanished back into the shadows that disgorged him as soon as he had stabbed the barbarian.  The group tightened their formation, not wanting to leave enough room between them for him to repeat the trick.  They circled, meeting new opponents with every step.  They were making progress, they were killing shadow elves, but it wasn’t enough.  There were still far too many.  At one point Alex stepped on the hand of a fallen elf and lost a step, which cost her a deep cut to her leg.  She cried out and Skull caved in the head of the elf responsible, then wrapped his arm about the warrior’s waist and lifted her back to her feet as she faltered slightly.

                “Bastards!”  Came the familiar cry and Bryant, along with the other three, turned their heads in astonishment to see shadow elves go flying in every direction as Strut suddenly appeared, arms flung wide, tossing them off him.  His face and chest were a mass of blood, cuts and bruises seemed to cover him but he was alive and he was fighting!  Bryant recognized the battle rage of the barbarian warrior when he saw it, and he knew that the man had fallen into it, likely had willed himself to do so.  Now he laid into the shadow elves with an almost savage glee, his bare hands breaking bones and ripping flesh, his axes apparently lost to the tumult.  Shadow Elves kept moving against him and kept being repelled, forcibly, the barbarian tossing them away pell-mell, limbs flailing and screams dying in their throats.

                Seeing his friend back on his feet sent a new thrill of adrenaline through Shadow Walker and his blades spun with increased speed.  Then the smell of burnt ozone filled the air and column of fire swept up the length of the battlefield to his right.  Shadow elves died, the screams erupting from their throats more savage and primal than any mortal voice should have been capable of.  The smell of ozone was quickly replaced by the smell of burning flesh.  Then Magnus was there, hovering over them, his form still crackling with electrical and blue flame fury.  Beneath him, nearly to their position were Ariana and Wolfgar.  Nowhere to be seen was Erlyk Shayde, but there was still fighting going on in the direction the knight had last been seen.  They were moving away from Strut now, but there was nothing to be done about that.  He was as much a danger to them in his current state as he was to the shadow elves and so they continued their slow, laborious way toward the cave entrance.  Elves were dying in droves, some falling beneath the blades and other weapons of the defenders, still more under the mystical might of Magnus Jorvel.  Along the edges of the melee, more were falling to arrows being fired from outside the encampment… Tasha had joined the fray!

                Ahead of them, standing in the mouth of the cave stood a female shadow elf, average height and slender but willowy.  Her long white hair tossing in the wind, and next to her, clad from head to toe in black, his eyes glinting silver and his hair looking to be slightly paler then the color of blue sky was the elf that had backstabbed Strut.  Shadow Walker saw them and let an unintelligible curse, redoubling his efforts to make it to the cave.  He saw the woman turn and speak to the male, who nodded and drew forth a sword then ran toward the fighting.  The woman turned and disappeared into the caverns.  Soon after that Bryant’s attention was entirely taken up by the fight surrounding him, so he didn’t notice the two slight figures that slipped into the cave entrance, following the shadow elf woman.

                Fae’Rena D’Spayr dashed into the inner cavern shouting, “The prisoners have escaped!  Their fighting their way through the soldiers, they may be here any moment!”  The ritual was already well underway, Ebony Penumbra knelt in the center of the room at the heart of a circle of power, her eyes closed as though in meditation though she was chanting something unintelligible as she rocked back and forth.  Eclipse, the Avatar of the Shadow God, turned to the young shadow elf and spoke, his voice rumbling throughout the cavern.

                “It matters not, they will not arrive in time.”  Fae’Rena glanced to either side, saw Silke Shadoe poised with a dagger over the heart of Countess Shroude and the undead hobgoblin, Hyena similarly poised over Mistress Ishara.  “In literal moment the ritual will be completed and our work here will be done.” 

                “Shall I sound a withdrawal from the battle field then, milord?” she asked, a calculating look in her eyes.

                Eclipse shook his armor plated head.  “Let the fodder do their jobs, holding back our enemies while we complete the ritual.  Then the inner circle will withdraw and regroup.”

                “You’re going to sacrifice our people?”  Fae’Rena asked, aghast.

                He turned his fiery yet cold gaze upon her, ”For the greater good.” 

                She looked over her shoulder, toward the not so distant sounds of combat.  Her brothers were out there, all three of them.  For Um’Quel’s fate she had difficulty caring, but for the fate of Athan’Dae and Celeb’Dae she was concerned.  Not so concerned that she would go out after them and risk missing the escape… but did legitimately hope that the twins would make it back in time.

                Shayla rushed into the vast cavern, the goblin at her side and froze, her eyes widening in stunned horror.  Hundreds of tribesmen and women were lining the walls here, chained together and chained to the walls.  They were slumped over, exhausted, half starved and defeated, most of them with signs of having met the dark elves whips.  There were no guards present, they must have all gone out to join the fighting, seeing no threat in these defeated slaves.  “By Thor’s hammer.” She said softly, then her eyes fell on one particular slave, sitting against a wall toward the center of the farthest group.  Even seated he was head and shoulders above the others, his black beard more shaggy than she remembered, his massive head tipped back against the wall, eyes closed in rest.  “Kellinor.”  It was a slight gasp, as though even hearing the name from her own lips was not enough to make her believe what she saw.

                She started toward her late fathers champion but was brought up short by the goblins hand clutching at hers.  “The Gods, no matter which ones you worship,” he told her as she turned back to regard him, “help those who help themselves.  I cannot open their chains for them, nor do I know that I should.  But I can help them to open their own.”

                She understood.  Just the act of opening their chains would not be enough to spur these people to fight.  They were too dejected, too defeated… they had lost the will to be free.  She knew then that it was up to her to motivate them to fight, as her father would have done before her.  She glanced around and her eyes fell on a raised platform that she was certain a senior guard would have stood on, overlooking the mass of his prisoners.  She ran to it and climbed atop it, the goblins taking a surreptitious position in the shadows beneath the platform.

                She stood there a moment, waiting, and slowly she saw eyes move upward till they rested upon her.  Those of her tribe widened as they recognized her and word quickly spread through the masses.  She kept her gaze upon Kellinor and when his eyes opened and his head came forward in response to the whispered words someone spoke to him she saw his eyes widen at sight of her.  He smiled, and she realized that here was one man who had not lost his will to fight.  He was still her fathers champion… her champion.  “I am Shayla, Daughter of Rolfe!” she cried to the men and women chained and slumped against the walls before her.  “My father was warlord of the Thunder Hammers before he was betrayed by Karnash… his own blood.  That same man has betrayed all of you… enslaved you… turned you against the very mountains you and your ancestors have called home for generations!  Look at you now.”  Her voice became something brittle and offensive, “Defeated by a traitor and his shadowy allies.  My brothers and I left our homeland… traveled far across the great water to find allies to bring back in the hopes that we might rescue you from this insult to your heritage, but what did I find upon my return?”  She looked around at them, her expression harsh, “Children!  Babes cowering as though behind their mothers skirts!  My father would be shamed by this display, where is your spirit?  Where is the will to fight?  Why have you not defied them every step of the way?!  I have allies right now, fighting to return to you the lands you no longer seem to deserve!  One of my brothers is dead because of these people and I know not the fate of the other.”  She choked that last sentence out in a half sob.  “This is not my home.”  She gestured expansively at their surroundings.  “These are not my people!”  Her words had stirred many of them she could see, and Kellinor in particular had risen to his knees, as far as his chains would allow him and was already straining at them as well.  “My people would never give up!  They would never surrender!”  Beneath the platform Rachnid had stood for several moments with his eyes closed, his hands together and his head bowed.  His lips moved in silent prayer, sending the will of his god out to the people chained before him.  “My people,” Shayla said, her eyes sweeping the group of them, meeting as many gazes as she could manage, “would never wallow in defeat, nor let themselves be chained!” 

                That was Kellinor’s chains erupted from the wall, carrying with them massive chunks of the rock to which he had been secured.  At this sudden and violent bid for freedom every man and woman in the cavern suddenly leapt to their feet, straining at their own chains.  It was a powerful sight, all those mountain tribe members straining as one to break the chains of the slavery.  Shayla stood upon her platform, watching them all, her heart swelling as, one by one, the chains shattered.  She knew not if it was their own desire for vengeance and freedom or the magic of her priestly friend or a combination of the two… but very soon not a soul in that cavern was restrained by their chains any longer.  They swarmed up to the pedestal where she stood, many of them reaching up to touch her, uncertain if she was real or a vision induced by their lack of food and freedom.

                Again she addressed them.  “Will you go to my friends?  Help them to win back the lands that have been taken from us?”

                One voice near the front of the crowd spoke up, “We have no weapons princess.”

                Shayla sought the speaker with her eyes but could not single him out.  Instead her gaze narrowed and swept over them all.  She extended an arm and pointed toward the entrance of the caverns… “Your weapons are out there, in the hands of your enemies.  Perhaps you should take them back as well!?”  For a moment the recently enslaved barbarians merely exchanged glances, then there was mass shift as hundreds of bodies moved toward the entrance to the cavern at once.  Shayla smiled, hearing the thunderous war cries her people were so famous for reverberating through the cavern.  To some that sound would have been frightening, but to Shayla it was music.

                As the mass of barbarians moved away, one figure stood tall and proud, striding toward the platform with a smile on his broad, rugged face.  Shayla took a single step and launched herself off the platform into his arms.  He caught her with a laugh, spun her around once and then set her on her feet.  “I… we thought you dead!”  she said, blinking back tears.

                He nodded gravely.  “I was… to be frank I do not know what happened to bring me back, but when I staggered out of that lodge they were quick to subdue me.  I was still too out of it to resist much and they brought me here.  I wanted nothing more than to follow you and your brothers, to help you.”  He paused, scowling.  “You say that one of your brothers fell?  Which?”

                She dropped her gaze and said, sadly, “Kelvan.”

                He cursed, shaking his head.  “And Devlin?  Where is he?”

                She shrugged.  “I haven’t seen him since they captured us, I assume he might be out there fighting right now, but I don’t know.”  Her eyes settled on his broad torso, saw the small scar there that marked where the sword had run him through.  She reached out and touched it lightly with the tips of her fingers.

                Kellinor took her hand and she raised her eyes to meet his.  “Your father would have so proud of what you just accomplished.”  He said, nodding toward the platform she had been standing upon.  “He often said that he wished he could pass the leadership to you, knowing you would have been the better leader.”

                She turned her head and looked toward the entrance to the cavern.  Her people had left now, gone out to win back their ancestral home.  She looked back up at him, “Everything will change now.”

                He shook his head, “Not everything.  You are still an amazing woman, still a princess, and they will still need a leader.”

                She scowled.  “You think they would follow a woman?  All of them?  The tribes haven’t been united since the days of Trey the First.”

                He shook his head.  “A woman no, but a warrior queen?”  He smiled.  “I’d follow her.”

                From behind her came a slight cough and she turned, her eyes widening slightly.  She had forgotten about Rachnid.  He had come out from under the platform and was standing quietly, waiting for them to notice him.  “Oh!”  She turned to the massive warrior.  “Kellinor, this is Rachnid.  He saved my life.  Returned it to me if the truth were known. He is a priest of Rachnos, the spider god.  It was he who helped our people to break their chains.”

                Kellinor suddenly dropped to one knee in front of the little goblin.  “Then our people owe you a great debt Priest of Rachnos.  If ever you have need of me, call.  If it is within my power to do so, I will be there.”

                “The sentiment is appreciated, Kellinor.  But the princess and I have already come to terms for my help.”  Kellinor frowned over at Shayla and she colored slightly, but shook her head, a silent order not to question her on it.  The goblin looked toward the mouth of the cave, his tall pointed ears swiveling that way.  “Someone comes.”

                Ariana Moonstone, Shadow Walker and Skull jogged into the room then and everyone stopped in surprise, sizing each other up.  The paladin nodded, her emerald eyes sweeping over Kellinor then she turned to Skull.  “You have a spare weapon?”  The large warrior nodded.  “Give it to him, it’s time to end this.”

                Kellinor held up his hands, showing the chains with their massive rock pieces still attached. “These will serve as weapons for now.”

                Ariana regarded him a moment, then looked at Shayla and Rachnid.  Of the people left to her, these were not the ones that she would have hoped to take into the inner cavern with her.  But she had little option, so she nodded and turned in that direction.  “Let’s do this.”

                It all seemed to happen at once, Ariana and the small group that had gotten into the cavern with her dashed into the ritual room just as Ebony Penumbra cried out, standing straight up on her knees and arching her back, thrusting her arms out to the sides.  Silke Shadoe and Hyena each stepped forward and plunged their daggers down into the soft flesh of the sisters, the Countess and Ishara screaming as the magic released by the Shadow Priestess mingled with the mana their sudden death had released into the air, multiplying it.  The Countess and her sister, however, were daughters of Zithuran and mutants who did not have a finite amount of mana at their disposal, as was the case with most mages.  Theirs was an endless battery of magical energy and when they were sacrificed by the Shadow Cult and the mana started to flow through them, supplying the ritual with as much mana as it needed to work, their eyes started to glow blazing yellow.

                “No!”  Ariana cried, and the members of the Shadow Cult not involved in the ritual spun.  Seeing her and the others Eclipse motioned toward a shadowy corner of the room.  A pair of shadow knights emerged and moved to intercept the interlopers.  Ariana had dived toward the Countess, Vindicator slashing at Silke Shadoe. The priestess dived toward the far wall, in which the Sun Seal was imbedded and drawing in the mana that the elven sisters were releasing with their death throes.  Skull stepped into the room and moved instinctively toward Hyena, the insane zombie cackling like the madman he was as he moved to meet the massive warrior.  Ariana turned, responding to the advance of a shadow knight and raised Vindicator to deflect the darkly flickering sword of the demonic warrior.  Shadow Walker leapt into the room, bounding over the circle of power in which Ebony Penumbra slumped, knowing better than to set foot within the circle he still managed to fling a dagger down at her in passing.  She cried out in pain and rage as the dagger took her high on the shoulder and blood ruptured forth.  There was a flash of light from the Sun Seal as her wound released still more mana into the air.  A crack appeared in the face of golden disc, then began to spread. 

                “He comes!”  Eclipse cried, seeming enraptured, totally oblivious to the battle raging around him.  Shadow Walker, still flying across the room, flipped in mid-air and his booted feet impacted the avatar between the shoulder blades.  Eclipse grunted, the rather light weight of the rogue still managing to stagger him forward.  He reflexively threw up his hands to catch himself and they impacted the gold of the disc.  There was a sizzling sound and he fell away, his hands blazing with what had to be holy fire.  The crack in the surface of the Seal widened still more.  Ariana was soon joined by Shayla who took on the second of the shadow knights and Kellinor, who had just entered the room with the princess frowned to see the necro knight called Necrolon moving toward Shayla’s exposed back.

                “I think not demon!” he howled, stepping forward and swinging one of his chain rocks at the monster.  It took him across his skull head, staggering the creature to the side and Necrolon turned to face him, a blade rippling with shadow fire appearing in his hand.  The barbarian champion squared off against the undead knight as the final member of Ariana’s band stepped into the inner cavern. 

                Rachnid glanced around, scowled when he saw the bodies of Countess Shroude and her sister slumped against the walls, hanging from the chains about their wrists, blood still pumping from the holes in their chests.  His eyes played over the rest of the room, settling for a moment upon the form of Eclipse, who had fallen to his hands and knees and was now cradling his smoking hands against his chest.  The avatar was looking up at the Sun Seal and the goblins eyes followed his gaze, then widened to see the expanding crack finally reach the other side of the sphere.  As it split in two there was a resounding clang, like the ringing of a massive bell and the two halves of the Sun Seal fell away, revealing what looked like a smooth sided tunnel beyond.  A tunnel of writhing darkness that could only be shadow energy.  Something moved within that darkness, something big that was coming up out of the tunnel.  A coldness swept through the room and everything seemed to slow down as Rachnid crouched, an instinctive need to hide from the darkness almost overpowering his need to help his friends.  An armored leg emerged from the darkness and set foot with a earth shaking clamor upon the ground of the cavern.  Rachnid swallowed his panic as Ariana, Shayla and Kellinor all battled on to his right, Skull to his left and Bryant started to pick himself up off the ground where he had fallen, right in front of the Sun Seal.  The massive, armored form of the Shadow God emerged from the shadow portal that had been sealed behind the golden circle for countless millennia and D’L’Tal’Itz, the god of shadows glanced down at the rogue that was still staggering to his feet.

                The goblin saw the God, standing at least twelve feet tall in the cavern, curl his armored hand into a fist, prepared to smite the rogue and likely everyone associated with him.  The goblin did the only thing he could do, the only thing he felt gave them a chance to survive this fiasco.  The lowered his head and closed his eyes and mumbled, “Rachnos preserve us.”

                The huge armored fist was streaking toward Bryant and the rogue didn’t seem able to move fast enough to avoid it.  Then from behind Rachnid came a familiar cry of “Bastard!” and an equally familiar double bladed battle axe came tumbling end over end through the air over the goblins head.  It took the god high in the chest, the sound of the axe impacting the metal armor echoed through the room and D’L’Tal’Itz staggered, slamming into a wall.  Some debris dislodged from the roof and fell onto his head, Bryant staggered away.  Strut followed his axe into the room, his face a bloody mess, the wound in his side still bleeding profusely.  Rachnid could see, with a healers eyes for such things, that he had lost too much blood.  When his battle rage subsided he would collapse and fall into a stupor, as he always did when such things took him… but the goblin knew that his friends was not likely to ever wake from it.  Behind the warrior came more, barbarians recently liberated from slavery pouring into the room and joining the fight, armed with swords and spears taken from their captors.

                “My lord, we are not prepared to repel such a force.”  Came the voice of Eclipse, staggering to his feet by the side of his god.  Rachnid was struck by how much alike they actually looked and D’L’Tal’Itz glanced around the room then nodded.  He motioned at the wall to the right of where the Sun Seal had been and a dark hole seemed to appear there, a hole that the goblin recognized as a shadow portal, similar to the one that had been concealed behind the Sun Seal.  “Withdraw!”  Cried Eclipse and the shadow cult began to run for the portal.

                Rachnid saw Ebony Penumbra stagger to her feet and toward the portal, saw Strut moving to intercept her and realized that the warrior was going to break the woman’s circle without realizing it.  His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout a warning… too late.  The barbarians foot crossed the barrier of the magic circle and there was an explosion of fire, the concussion from the blast lifting everyone off their feet and slamming them into the walls of the cavern.  Rachnid blacked out for a moment… or at least he thought it was a moment.

                When he came to he was outside and the sun was rising over the horizon.  He was lying on a bed of animal skins and he pushed himself upright to a sitting position, wincing at the pain that shot through his head as he did so.  He figured he must have a concussion.  He glanced around, saw that there were a great many bodies littering the area, all covered in blankets or cloaks.  Barbarians of various tribes moved through the encampment, where they all seemed to still be gathered, looking for fellow tribe members or family members.  Rachnid looked around for his friends.

                “They’re inside.”  He turned his head and saw Skull seated a short ways off, a young barbarian girl wrapping a bandage around a massive arm.  “They’re still digging people out of that inner chamber.”  Rachnid nodded and pushed himself to his feet.  He swayed slightly as a wave of dizziness passed through him.  “There’s nothing you can do for them goblin.”  Skull informed him.      

                Rachnid looked over at the warrior, into the ruby lenses of the skull shaped helmet he wore.  “They’re my friends.”  He said, as if that should have explained everything.  Skull just shrugged his massive shoulders and turned his gaze away from the priest as he headed toward the entrance.

                Ariana Moonstone leaned against the wall of the cavern, dirty and bedraggled, blood caked near her scalp where debris from the explosion had hit her in the head.  She was bone weary, but there were still people unaccounted for and she couldn’t allow herself to rest until she knew what had become of all her people.  The barbarians, under the instruction of Shayla and Kellinor, were excavating the cavern… again, only this time voluntarily, wanting help the people who had laid their lives on the line for them.  She glanced up as Rachnid approached and offered the goblin a wan little smile.  “It’s good to see you up and about little one.”

                “I saw Skull outside, what of the others?” he asked her.

                Ariana motioned toward the cavern, which was all but caved in.  “Shayla and Kellinor are leading the effort to dig out those that were in the cavern with us.  You, myself, Skull and Kellinor and Shayla were closest to the entrance.  I carried you out myself.  Shadow Walker was on the far side of the room and Strut was somewhere toward the middle.  I haven’t heard anything of them yet, and there haven’t been any bodies from the Shadow Cult turned up yet either.”

                A woman walked from the inner cavern, what little had already been excavated.  Rachnid turned to see that it was Tasha, the archer having been outside when most of the fighting in the caverns went down.  She was relatively unscathed.  “They’re bringing someone out.”  The elf said softly and Ariana perked up, pushing herself off the wall.  Tasha glanced down at Rachnid, meeting his gaze and he could see the worry there.  Shayla and Kellinor exited next, carrying between them a limp form in dark leathers, his face coated in dirt and dried blood.  One of his legs was twisted at an awkward angle and so was his head.

                The barbarians placed Shadow Walker on the ground at the paladins feet and Ariana’s knees buckled.  She collapsed to her knees with a sob, staring down at the young rogue, his face contorted in a grimace of pain that would forever be the last thing she saw on his face.  Or would it?

                She looked up as Rachnid laid a hand on her shoulder and as the goblin crouched by the young rogue the flame haired warrior stood and backed away a step.  Tasha moved over to her side, putting an arm around her shoulders and drawing her into a half hug.  Ariana didn’t resist, watching as the little goblin reached out and placed a hand upon the young thief’s brow.  He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his lips moving in silent prayer.  The hand upon Bryant’s brow started to glow and slowly the glow began to spread, first engulfing his head and then spreading downward, encompassing the rest of his slender form.  Tasha winced as several loud pops were heard, the young mans broken leg mending instantly.  Then slowly the glow faded and the goblin sagged to the side with a sigh.  Ariana leaned down over the rogue and her emerald eyes widened.  “He’s breathing.”

                “There was never a doubt in my mind.”  Shayla whispered, her blue eyes resting upon the goblin.  He looked up at her and grinned.

                Shouts from the inner cave drew their attention that way and a group of barbarians made their way out, two pairs of them cradling the bodies of Ishara Wodan and Countess Shroude between them.  They laid the elven women down to either side of Bryant, then quickly turned and moved back into the cavern.  Ariana moved up next to the two elves, crouching between them.  She checked them for pulses, first the Countess and then her sister.  As she pressed her fingers to Ishara’s neck her eyes widened in stunned surprise. “She’s alive!”

                Rachnid, weary and battered though he was, scrambled to his feet and to the paladin’s side.  He knelt and extended a hand, pausing briefly to glance at Ariana.  “I mean no disrespect.”  He said, then placed his hand firmly over the blonde elf’s breast.  The paladin rolled her eyes skyward, then just watched as the priest said another silent prayer to his God.  Again that familiar glow as he cast his clerical healing and Ariana gasped as she watched the jagged wound in Ishara’s chest slowly close up and vanish all together.

                When the healing was done the goblin exhaled a shuddering sigh and slumped backward.  He would have collapsed all together if not for Ariana’s hand catching him.  She looked down at the exhausted priest, then over at the Countess.  Her body was cold, lifeless.  She didn’t have to ask, Rachnid nodded and struggled to his feet.  “I will try.”  He moved around the prone form of the now resting Ishara Wodan and crouched by her sister.  Like he had with Bryant he closed his eyes and bowed his head, placing a hand upon her brow and saying his silent prayer.  Again that same glow spread from his hand out over her shapely form, but this time when it faded he let out a little moan and collapsed across the top of her body.  “I’m sorry.”  He said, and she though she almost heard a sob in the words, “I’m not strong enough.”

                Before Ariana could react Shayla knelt in front of him and placed a hand lightly upon his tattooed head.  “Not strong enough?”  She glanced up at Kellinor, who loomed behind her like a giant.  “I know men five times your size who can move mountains, but they haven’t the strength to accomplish what you’ve done here.  You’re a hero Rachnid, and I’ll have words with anyone that says otherwise.”

                The girl raised her deep blue eyes to the paladin and Ariana smiled.  “Agreed.  The Countess’s death is tragic, but it is no fault of yours my little friend.”  Rachnid allowed Shayla to help him to his feet and then they started to walk together toward the entrance to the caverns.  Ariana watched them go, barbarian princess and goblin priest and wondered.  Her full red lips quirked into a smile, then she sobered and turned to Kellinor.  “Strut?”

                He had been watching the princess move away with the goblin as well, but at the paladins question his face darkened.  “We’ve cleared the spot where he was when he set off the explosion.  There’s no sign of him, the blast might knocked him through a portal or… or it may have vaporized him.”

                Ariana and Tasha exchanged glances and both women had to blink back tears. It looked as though their friend was lost to them.  “I fear we’ve done all we can do here.  We need to get back to Peacehope, I fear things there are escalating out of control in our absence.”  Tasha nodded, then glanced toward the caved in cavern.  Neither of them wanted to leave without knowing for certain of Strut’s fate.  “We need to take Penelope home, and it’s high time I took a hand in getting our city back.”

                “We won’t stop looking, I promise you that.”  Kellinor told the women.  Ariana thanked him, as did Tasha, and then the two women walked from the caverns together.

                Outside they paused and let their eyes play over the encampment that was spread out from the excavation site.  They could see Shayla and Rachnid moving toward the distant lodges and Ariana said softly.  “I think we’ve lost more than one ally to this place today.”

                Tasha followed her gaze with her own eyes and they widened slightly.  “You don’t think… Shayla and Rachnid?  I thought she was showing signs of falling for Magnus!”

                Ariana shrugged.  “She was.  But he proved himself a rather valiant soul, and her people value nothing higher than courage and honor.  The little goblin has both of those in spades.  It’s good, I think, that she is able to look beyond race and see the man beneath the green skin.”

                “I give it two weeks.”  Tasha said flatly.  Ariana laughed and was surprised that she still could.  “There’s still no sign of her brother either.  The ones that were enslaved claim they never saw Devlin in the caves with them, so he wasn’t put to work.  The lodges and tents have all been searched… he isn’t here.”

                “Perhaps…”  Ariana paused, uncertain what she was about to say, then shrugged, “…perhaps they killed him and we need to look for a grave.”

                “They need to look for a grave.”  Tasha corrected her.  ”We have business elsewhere.”

                Ariana nodded, raising her eyes to horizon to the south, in the direction of Algeron.  “Home?”

                Tasha followed her gaze and nodded as well. “Home.”

Epilogue

                Shadowveil… the very name causes shivers down the spines of the stoutest warriors on Kyzanthia.  It is the accepted home of the vampires, recently accepted as a legal and sentient race and members of the world council.  It is an island of perpetual darkness, where a cloud of fog so thick that the suns rays cannot penetrate it is the norm day in and day out.  There is but one settlement on the island, a city of some sixty thousand individuals, nearly all undead but not all of those vampires.  The city, Deathknell by name, is home to Baron Viktor Vonderlicht and his wife Lustra, vampire lords both and the rulers of this dark and dreary place.  They reside in Castle Vonderlicht, which sits on the eastern most edge of the city, at the base of Mount Ghast, which overlooks the entire island.  It is a place where conflict is no stranger.  Vampires on the run from the law, those that have not yet acclimated to the new laws by which they are all expected to live, come here to hide in the hopes that they might escape execution.  Often they do, unless the hunter stalking them is one particular woman with a legendary penchant for never giving up when on their trail.  Blaze has been here before.

                Now she stands at the window of her guest room, which in any other place would be considered a cell, her arms crossed beneath her impressive bosom and broods about the circumstances of her stay here.  Traded by Huntyr Shroude to the Baron in exchange for vampiric support of his claim to the Peacehope throne.  In truth, she realized, it was a stroke of brilliance.  They couldn’t kill her, it would raise too many questions with her aunt pretending to be her mother.  But if they traded her to her worst enemy in exchange for aid, then it became a simple matter of concocting a story about her having been sent on a mission and, eventually, word would get out that she had been killed on said mission. 

                She sighed, curling her fingers around the iron bars in the rooms only window and shaking them in frustration.  The room had been enchanted with a dampening field, so none of her magic would work here, she was trapped, at the mercy of the two vampires she hated the most in all the world.  For someone with an all encompassing hatred of vampires, that was saying something.  She gazed out over Deathknell, watching the docks as ships came and went, many of them legitimate merchant vessels, a few the death ships that Vonderlicht himself created as a naval defense fleet.  These usually came in the night and were gone by first light.  She knew it would have taken powerful magic to create such vessels and to maintain control over them.  But that was Vonderlicht… believed to be the most powerful necromancer in the world, and one of the three eldest vampires in the world to boot.

                She slammed her palm against the window sill and felt a sharp pain as a splinter dug into the skin.  She winced and turned her hand palm up to pull the jagged splinter from her hand.  That was when she heard the door to her cell unlock and she turned, scowling, knowing that it was too early for her next meal.  The door opened and her heart skipped a beat as he walked in, tall and dapper as ever in a fur lined vest and cape, gold ties cinching the front of the vest closed over a starkly white shirt, the buttons of which were also gold.  His pants were black, as was his hair, except at the temples where he had started to turn silver before he stopped aging at all.  His skin was tanned and healthy looking, as all vampires over the age of a thousand were capable of doing and his generous mouth was lined with a well kept goatee and mustache.  Baron Viktor Vonderlicht was a handsome monster, there was no denying that, and thanks to a side effect of a previous visit to this island she felt a little tingle of arousal in her naval as he entered.  The necromark, a small black skull that had been branded into the upper slope of her left breast, tingled slightly.  Of course, in this place, with her surrounded by undead, it always tingled, leaving her in a constant state of arousal.  But this man, the master of most if not all the undead on the planet, caused that tingle to escalate to the point where it was difficult to focus through it, as she had learned to do over the years.  But the truly powerful undead were more difficult to ignore.

                “Tatyana.”  He said by way of greeting, his voice deep and cultured, the accent impossible to place, hinting that his native dialect was a language that had likely died out many centuries previous.  She narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing, keeping her arms crossed beneath her breasts, which inadvertently pushed them up higher into the low cut neckline of the black satin dress that she had been forced to wear upon her arrival.  “I trust you have not been… poorly treated?”

                “I would call being held here against my will being poorly treated, Baron.”  She snapped at him.

                He smiled slightly and gave a little gesture that was a mixture of a nod and a shrug.  “Your… imprisonment is unfortunate but necessary.”

                “Why?” she demanded.

                Again he gave his half shrug.  “Part of an agreement between myself and the rulers of your home, Peacehope.”

                “Huntyr Shroude and my aunt are not the rulers of Peacehope.  My mother will return once the Dragons catch up to her and her kidnapper.”  She said confidently.  “And then things will be set to rights.”

                He shook his head, crossing the room to perch on the edge of the small table that had been given her to use.  “I’m afraid you are behind the times.  That is part of the reason I have come.  I have spies everywhere you know.  I have just learned of a great battle in the mountains of Trey’Elden, many barbarian deaths, many shadow elf deaths.  I’m afraid that your mother was among those killed, though her death served a purpose I am proud to say has come to pass.”  Tanya felt a cold weight settle in her stomach, then the chill started to spread throughout her body.  It couldn’t be true.  “She was a ritual sacrifice, along with your aunt… the priestess of Ra.  Ishara, I believe her name was?”  He was watching her reaction, gauging it, his red eyes calculating.

                “You’re lying.” She hissed, her voice barely a whisper.

                “Am I?”  He chuckled and shook his head.  “It matters not whether you believe me, but I would have neglecting my duties as a host if I did not at least inform you of her death.  Your aunt, I’m told, actually survived the whole ordeal somehow.  No easy feat… something about a goblin priest with unexpected power.  We will have to watch him carefully in the future.”

                She cocked her head slightly, trying to keep the grief she felt building within her at bay by focusing on getting information to take her with her when she eventually escaped.  “You said we?  Who is we?”

                He cocked his head to the side slightly, his generous lips quirking into a smile.  She could see him weighing the risks of telling her anything, wondering how much might be too much.  Finally he said, “The Shadow Cult.  Worshippers of D’L’Tal’Itz, the shadow god.”  She scowled, clearly wondering what a vampire would want with a cult devoted to shadow worship.  “I’m a founding member.”  She couldn’t help it, her eyes widened with surprise at that admission.  He nodded.  “It’s true!  I’ve been promised a place in his pantheon when he returns to power.”

                She swallowed.  The thought of Vonderlicht becoming a new vampire god, at odds with Noktyrne, was enough to give her chills all over again.  “Returns to power?” she repeated.

                He nodded.  “The shadow god has been imprisoned within a dimension of shadows for countless millennia, a prison crafted for him by the other gods.  Long have his followers, especially the shadow elves, sought his prison that they might find a way to free him and return him to power.”  He paused for effect, “It was the ritual to free him for which they sacrificed your mother and aunt.”

                Her mouth was suddenly dry.  “Then it’s done…  the shadow god is free.”

                He nodded, pushing off the table and starting to move slowly toward her.  “Indeed he is.  It will be some time before he is returned to his former levels of power, but I am assured of my place in his pantheon.”

                Blaze backed away slightly, feeling her heart start to pound in response to his nearness.  “Why is that?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

                “Because it was I who formulated the ritual that would break him from his prison.  I told the shadow elves how to do it and who would be the best sacrifices.”  His eyes were playing over her now, liking the way she filled out the snug dress.  His smile widened.  “I gave them your mothers name.”  he laughed then.  “It is ironic that I now consider your other aunt an ally, as she was originally one of the potential targets for sacrifice.”  He shrugged and she winced slightly as she backed into the wall, realizing she had no further to retreat.

                “Then you’re responsible for my mother death.”  It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.  Another reason to add to the long list of reasons she was determined to see this creature destroyed.  “I’ll kill you one day, you know that right?”

                He was standing right in front of her then, his hands coming to rest lightly on her sensuously rounded hips.  She closed her eyes, trying to will down the effects of the necromark, but it was no use, he was too strong.  “Your eyes want to kill me,” he said and she opened them again, almost on cue, “but your body is asking for something else entirely.”  Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as her breathing quickened to short gasps.

                “Why?” she asked, the sound something like a whimper that she hated.

                He pressed himself against her and she shivered, his arms slipped about her waist.  He leaned his face next to hers, his goatee tickling the delicate point of her ear as he responded, “Because I can.”

                “All the gods damn you.” She managed to say before her magically augmented libido made any further conversation impossible.

                “They did that ten thousand years ago.” He replied, and then neither of them said anything for many hours.

                He paused outside the temple of light, his eyes moving slowly over the exterior of the building.  He didn’t know if he would even be able to enter it on his own, but knew that in order for his mission here in Peacehope to move forward he had to.  The vampire took a deep breath and mounted the marble steps leading up to the building.  It was vast, all marble with what looked like veins of actual gold running through it.  He sneered at this, thinking it typical of the followers of Ra and his ilk to flaunt their wealth so. 

                He paused at the entrance, a pair of large oak doors with brass hinges, the wood stained a dark brown, each with a large ankh, the symbol of Ra, engraved in its surface.  He reached out with a shaking hand, bracing himself for the burn he expected when he touched the doors.  He closed his eyes and turned his face away in case there was any kind of flash.  He had been told it would be safe to touch them, that it was even possible for him to enter the temple now that certain steps had been taken, but he was still wary, as any vampire would be in regards to a house of the Sun God.  His trembling fingers touched the door and he flinched them away quickly, then realized that he had felt nothing but the smooth texture of the wood beneath his finger tips.  Opening his eyes, he looked back at the door and smiled slightly, placing his palm fully against it.  He sighed when nothing happened and when he pushed on the door it swung open, as he had been assured it would.

                “Praise the shadows.”  He said softly, then stepped forward.  As he passed through the threshold, something that would not have been possible for him before their spy had unhallowed the temple, he felt a shiver pass through him, a residue of the Sun Gods presence that still lingered in the building.  There was a vague sense of general discomfort, especially in light of the religious symbology that that everywhere he looked. Ankhs abounded here, as did sun symbols and other similar deific etymology relating to the pantheon of light.  He moved across the grand entry hall into the rectory, his dark eyes scanning the pews for any signs of movement, but he seemed to be alone, again as had been arranged previous.  Turning to his left, the vampire crossed the room and passed into a narrow hallway hidden behind a hanging tapestry.  Down that hall he drifted, his cloak billowing out behind him, his top hat well clear of the arched roof.

                He came to the desired door and paused, listening for sounds from beyond it but there were none.  Nodding, he reached out and pushed the door open, passing into the hospital wing of the great temple.  He paused once more just inside the room, his gaze sweeping it.  All the beds save one were empty, and in that one lay Sir Avalon Charm, the First Knight of Peacehope.  The vampire smiled as he regarded the sleeping human.  Comatose for several weeks now, though in truth he should have awakened some time ago.  They had been keeping him under through the use of subtle magics, until such time as he could gain entry and take the step that would further his mission.

                The vampire crossed to the knights sickbed, reaching into an inner pocket of his coat as he went.  Stopping by the humans side he held up the stoppered phial he retrieved from the pocket, smiling at the shadow demon contained within.  It was difficult to believe that something small enough to fit into a glass phial was going to cause so much mayhem.  He pulled the cork with his teeth, one of the sharp canines flashing as he did so and lowered the glass tube till it hovered just over the knights face.  He waited till the man inhaled softly before tipping it.  The dark, murky substance within slid out like a large dollop of sludge, splashing onto Avalon’s face and as the knight inhaled the ooze was sucked up into his nostrils.  The vampire stepped back for a moment, his eyes dancing with expectancy.  For a few moments nothing seemed to happen, then the knights eyes blinked open and where there had once been blue they were now completely black.  He gasped, his spine arching off the bed then he collapsed back to the mattress and the warriors strong body started to convulse fitfully.  The vampire had informed of this reaction so he merely waited, smiling softly as he watched.  Human suffering was like a drug to him, he thrilled at the sight of it.

                The seizures passed and the knight collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes closing again.  The vampire frowned softly now and stepped closer to the bed, leaning over the knight. “Sir Avalon?  Can you hear me?”

                The eyes opened again and they were the knights normal, though striking color of blue.  “I can here you, yes, but this vessel is no longer Avalon Charm.”

                The vampire smiled.  “Excellent, but you know your mission.  To the populace of this city you must remain as Avalon.  They must have no idea that he is no longer in control.  You have access to all his memories?  His skills and combat abilities, as we promised you would?”

                There was a pause, as of the shadow demon within the human assessing what he was capable of within the confines of the mortal body.  “Yes.  He is strong this one, he knows many people.”  A slow, almost feral smile spread across the handsome face.  “He knows many women… he will be a fun host to keep for a while.”
                “Yes, you may indulge as you desire, all your kind do, so long as it doesn’t hinder your mission.”  The vampire paused.  “What is that mission?”

                “Destroy Ariana Moonstone.”  The shadow possessed knight answered.  “It should be easy enough, this host knew her… intimately.”

                The vampire nodded.  “Yes, that’s why our masters chose him for your body.  You know what to do?”

                The knight turned its head and looked at him.  “I know what to do.”

                Mikal Larux smiled exultantly, “Excellent.”

                Sir Erlyk Shayde stepped out of the stairwell on the Knight’s Crossing, onto the deck of the frigate and paused, stretching to work the kinks developed while moving through the ships cramped infrastructure from his spine.  He looked around and his eyes fell upon the paladin, standing like a masthead at the bow of the ship, her fiery hair whipping out behind her as she leaned against the railing, her emerald eyes focused on the distant island that was her home.  He glanced to his left, saw the young rogue Shadow Walker leaning on the railing there, his back to the water, idly cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his dagger.  The thief gave him a little nod, which the Black Knight returned, and then he started forward to join her at the bow.

                “Is it just me,” he said as he turned his back to the water and leaned against the railing next to her, crossing his arms over his chest, “or does the air actually smell different here?”

                Her full red lips quirked into a smile and he found he liked that smile.  He was quite certain it had melted many a heart over the years.  “Wherever you are, the air always smells the sweetest to those that call it home.”  She paused for a moment and they stood there, facing opposite directions but as companionable as two such different people could be.  “Why are you helping us?” she asked him finally.

                He scowled, glancing down at the deck beneath his feet.  “It was my fathers wish that we attempt to thwart the Shadow Cult.  What happened in Trey’Elden was not the result he had hoped for, so I’ve decided to stick with you until it is achieved.”

                She turned her head then, her emerald eyes regarding his profile thoughtfully.  “You don’t strike me as the sort of man that jumps when his father tells him to.  Besides, I know a thing or two about the duties of a knight, and your first priority is to Errgaunt, not your father.”

                He laughed bitterly at that.  “My father is Errgaunt.”

                That statement bothered her and she scowled darkly.  “He’s not emperor, does he wish to be?”

                There was no hesitation as he responded, “Yes.”  It was a blunt statement, a fact that he had come to terms with many years before.  “And he expects to use my position within the empire to help him secure the throne.”

                “He’s what… fourth in line now?”  she asked.

                His eyebrows rose at that.  “You keep up with the politics of the human empire? I’m duly impressed Lady Moonstone.”

                “I’ve always found that it is a good idea to keep track of who leads a potential enemy and who might replace them.  It makes victory more easily grasped should we ever cross blades.”  That, he thought, was spoken like a true warrior.

                Aloud he said, “Errgaunt has never really had it’s sights set upon Algeron for conquering.  You’re too small to be much of a threat to us.”

                “You don’t deny that your people are conquerors though?”  She asked him.

                He shrugged.  “No point disputing something that is so prominently displayed in the histories of my people.”

                She nodded and again they fell silent. The silence stretched so long that he was about to move away when she spoke again, “You understand why my people and I have difficulty trusting you?”

                He sighed.  “There has never been any love lost between us, it’s true.  And there are the differences of faith.  But now, with the coming of the Shadow Cult, all our faiths have a mutual enemy.  We have to set aside those differences, or they’ve already won.”

                She turned her head again and he turned his to meet her eyes levelly.  “That’s easier said than done Sir Erlyk.”  She turned her gaze back to the horizon and he got the distinct impression that he was being dismissed.  Such things would normally get his dander up, but this was not a woman to trifle with, and she had just lost one of her best friends.  He started to walk away, but she called to him before he had gone three steps. “We do appreciate the use of the ship, however.”

                He made no reply, just smiled and kept walking.  The Knights Crossing was indeed his ship, not his families… but his personally.  Granted him for his use by the emperor of Errgaunt himself.  The crew were loyal to him and him alone and he used it whenever the need arose for him to cross great bodies of water, like now.  The journey from the shore of Trey’Elden, where he had had the ship meet them, to Algeron was only about six days barring anything unforeseen.  They had been lucky and were now in sight of the island after only five.  A good tail wind had helped them along, as had the magic of Magnus Jorvel.  The ship had no mage of its own, something that he intended to remedy having seen how handy it was to have one on board.  He made his way across the deck and up a ladder to the wheelhouse where the captain stood, hands lightly gripping the wheel. 

                “How long till landfall captain?” he asked the man.  Captain Roderick Ghent was a large man, having once been powerfully built it had since gone to fat.  He was one of the most accomplished sailors in the world, and knowledgeable than most on such things a sea lore.  He was broad and fat and wore a loose white shirt and breeches, the latter tucked into a pair of high black boots.  He sported a snowy white beard though his upper lip was bereft of hair, as was his scalp.

                “Five hours sir.”  Said the captain quickly.

                The two men stood in silence for a while, watching the island kingdom grow larger as they approached.  It was no more than fifty miles across at its narrowest point, twice that at its widest, but still maintained two major cities whose populations were more than fifty thousand citizens each.  There were a number of other small communities scattered about the island as well and the two cities, Valor and Peacehope, shared jurisdiction of those towns evenly. 

                Suddenly a piercing whistle sounded, drawing every eye upward.  The sailor in the crow’s nest was pointing, not toward the distant island but into the sky at something that looked like a small bird flapping toward them.  The bird began to drop toward the ship, spiraling through the air currents, heading straight for the wheel house.  Shayde saw Ariana and her people, sans the priestess who was still below decks grieving the loss of her sister, racing toward he ladder leading up to him and the captain.  They crowded around the two men just as the bird, a simple white pigeon, landed on the railing before them.  It turned its head, staring at them with a beady eye and chirped “Ariana Moonstone.”

                Shayde glanced at the paladin, saw her swallow nervously and then she responded.  “Yes, that’s me.”

                The bird opened its beak wide and another voice issued forth, this one as familiar to her as her own.  It was the voice of her sister, Sasha.  “Do not dock in Valor. They’re waiting to arrest you when you disembark.  Re-route at once… follow the bird, it knows where.”  The pigeons beak snapped shut and then it took off.

                Ariana glanced around at her people, all of whom were scowling darkly.  She met Shayde’s eyes.  “That was the voice of my sister, Sasha.  Evidently the powers that be in Peacehope learned of our arrival somehow.  If she thinks we should re-route, then I would take her at her word.”

                “This is your home Lady Moonstone, whatever you think is best.”  He turned to Ghent and nodded.  The captain scowled, not liking adjusting his course without an actual course to set, but he spun the wheel and swung the bow of the ship around, following in the wake of the bird that flew ahead of them.  Four and half hours later the captain brought the ship to a halt, dropping anchor a quarter mile of the coast of Algeron.  The Dragons and their erstwhile allies crowded the railing, looking toward the beach.  A pair of figures stood there and even at that distance Ariana could recognize Sasha and Falcon.  She sighed, relieved that she hadn’t led her people into a trap.  “The captain says we dare not go any closer.  We’ll have to take the boats ashore from here.”

                It was a further hour before they hopped from the ships long boats and tromped ashore. Ariana greeted her sister warmly, and Falcon as well.  “It’s good to see you up and about ranger.”  She told him.

                Falcon was eyeing Shayde, Skull and Alex warily, but when his gaze fell on Shadow Stalker, who had been brought ashore in chains under guard of Magnus his scowl darkened considerably.  “It seems we have much to discuss.” 

                Ariana followed his gaze and saw the assassin staring back at the ranger, his expression inscrutable.  “The situation has changed Falcon.  He’s with us now.”

                The ranger arched an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to the manacles that rested around the assassins wrists.  “Is he?”

                Ariana sighed.  “It’s going to take a while to explain, and I thought it best we brought him with us like this so there were no misunderstandings.”  She reached out and set a hand on his forearm, “He’s under my protection Kestrel.”

                The ranger turned, his blue eyes meeting hers, then nodded and turned away.  “Follow me, I’ll show you where the hideout is.”

                As the group made to follow the ranger, Ariana fell in beside Sasha.  The others were behind them, close enough to hear their conversation.  “Why the re-route?  Who gave us up?”

                Sasha shrugged.  “We don’t know how they found out when you were coming, but they definitely knew.  Sir Avalon had a whole platoon of soldiers waiting in disguise at the docks.”

                Ariana blinked, then looked at her sister.  “Avalon?  He’s awake?”

                Sasha winced slightly, but nodded.  “He is, about two days ago.”  She paused, then continued.  “Ariana, no sooner did he wake up than he had sworn his allegiance to Huntyr Shroude and vowed to bring you to justice.  He’s claiming that he was taken in, seduced by your beauty and that it was you who arranged for him to be attacked on the road.”

                “What!?”  Several people cried at once, aghast.

                Sasha nodded.  “We’re not sure what he’s playing at, if he’s serious or trying to make himself an asset for us.  But he seems serious enough about capturing you.”

                Ariana shook her head.  “He has to be pretending.  Avalon would never believe me capable of something like that!”

                “I’m afraid your knight is only the tip of the iceberg.”  Sasha took a deep breath, then used the rest of the time they spent walking through the thick forest to fill her sister and the others in on everything else that had happened while they were gone.

                “Galon is dead?” Ariana asked softly, her face pale.

                Sasha nodded.

                “The vampire nation has sided with Shroude?”  this from Erlyk Shayde.  Sasha turned to him, looking him up and down, her gaze appraising. 

                “It would seem that way.  Falcon has been scouting the walls around the city at night, he says he can see them occasionally, standing guard duty on the wall.”  She turned back to her sister.  “We have a few friends in the city still, and they try to send us information when they can.  Ashlyn Eaglehart has really gone out on a limb for us, she’s working closely with Falcone and his officers, claiming that she was duped as well.  But we know she’s with us, she’s more than proven that by now.”

                Ariana nodded.  “Ashlyn would want to work against the people responsible for her fathers death any way she could.”  She turned then, glancing over at her squire, who had started to cry, word of his fathers death having hit him hard.  Tasha was comforting the young man as best she could.  “It seems we have our work cut out for us.”

                “How so?”  Sasha asked.

                Ariana frowned.  “There’s a lot to do now.  We have to do what we can to get our city back, of course.  But there’s also the Shadow Cult to deal with.  If what you’ve said is true, we also can’t leave Blaze in Shadowveil.”  She sighed, feeling the weight of many responsibilities suddenly weighing on her.  “There is so much to do.”

                “We’re here.”  Falcon said suddenly, having stopped at the base of a wide tree trunk.  He turned and looked at Ariana.  “You sure we can trust them?”  He nodded toward Shayde, Skull, Alex and Shadow Stalker.

                The paladin sighed again, “No, but we’re going to anyway.”

                It was obvious the ranger didn’t like it much, but he nodded, then turned and poked a finger into a knot in the tree bark.  Alex gasped in surprise as a door in the side of the tree swung open, revealing a stairwell leading down.  Falcon took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, then led the way down.  The others followed, Ariana bringing up the rear.  Before she entered the disguised hideout entrance she turned and glanced around the island she had called home since her birth.  Her expression was worried, and sad.  “Gods help us all.”  She murmured, then pulled the door closed behind her as she entered the tree trunk.

To be Continued in…

                                                              Shadow War, Book Two, Eternal Night