CHAPTER 19: AN ALLIANCE OF FORMER FOES

The journey south through the Griffinwood was uneventful but cold as they traveled along the river toward E'eldaduranus. On the first night the temperature dropped and the clouds brought snow, reminding the small company that they were in what was named in prophecy as the Long Winter. It was a terrible time that would bring terrible war, and they had already witnessed it first hand. And with Jarren entrusted the Sword of Jandrous, and all of them trying to find the two priests who had taken it from his possession, they had become key players in the war. So much rested on that ancient blade, so much rested upon The Hunter's shoulders. Jarren was a man who rarely allowed anxiety to show, and although he remained calm on the outside, he grew more anxious, more stressful on the inside. The party talked little on their journey, with the exception of when they stopped to make camp, and Jarren found himself spending more time with Kieran. Each night her conversation, regardless of its content, helped to calm his nerves and he found himself drawn to her more and more. As well, he had found that the nightmares that plagued him on so many nights were soothed not by his long time friend Tia, but by Kieran. She had proven her worth already in their journey by tending Faldrek's burns which were healing well. And on the nights when they built a fire to chase away the cold, she had proven to be an excellent cook, preparing whatever game they were able to hunt for their meals. Tia and Arden had proven to be their most effective hunters, but Drogan as well had caught a rabbit or two— once having dived head first into some bushes to chase down a good sized rabbit. He emerged from the bushes with wet leaves and branches hanging from his hair and held the animal high in triumph. His wide smile giving away the pride he felt in conquering the creature, he also shouted a cry that would have been impressive on any battle field. From that day on, Tia would jokingly call him Drogan Rabbit Bane, when conversing with him. Jarren rarely smiled on their journey, but "Rabbit Bane" brought forth a chuckle from his mouth every time. He also smiled during those nightly conversations with Kieran, and his heart swelled to nearly bursting one evening when he asked if she was frightened when wolves howled in the distance and she nearly jumped.

"I feel safe knowing that you're here," she said. "I realized you would not let anything happen to me or any of us if you could prevent it, when you reached over to take my reins and guided my horse when we fled from the walven." She leaned into him and reached an arm around his shoulders, hugging him close.

"Oh how The Hunter was slain," Drogan joked later on his and Jarren's watch. "It was an arrow of love that sunk deep into his heart, killing the great warrior of legend. He fell to his knees in death, and turned into a puddle of water."

"You're one to talk, Drogan, with that lock of hair tied about your neck," Jarren chuckled. "Every night when you sleep you grip it in an iron fist as though it might grow legs and sneak away while you sleep."

"Well you're just— a fool," he laughed.

"As are you," Jarren retorted. He enjoyed the younger warrior's presence, and was beginning to think of him as a friend. Drogan reminded The Hunter of himself in many ways. He was a good leader, honorable, and caring. And he had proven himself a brave warrior when they encountered the walven. When he was not talking with Jarren, or the others, he would open the copy of The Teachings he had received from Halin and read. Often he would ask Faldrek about a passage or two, and the older soldier was always happy to explain something Drogan did not understand. Although he was yet to make up his mind whether or not he believed everything written within, Drogan could not deny that much of the writing, especially those concerning the Long Winter, appeared to ring very true.

When they finally reached E'eldaduranus, the elven city was abustle with movement. E'eld everywhere were busy preparing for war. They knew skraeg were coming and were doing everything they could to prepare themselves and their city. Soldiers ran to and fro carrying out what orders they were assigned, and others appeared busy with any number of different tasks. Cheers rang out when Arden and the others rode into to town, for they all respected and loved their e'eld prince. They wondered about those that traveled with him, and another shout rang out when many discovered that one of them was the man known as Jarren The Hunter, The Traveler, the man of whom so many legends were told. Upon entering E'eldaduranus, Arden immediately asked about the two priests and learned they were staying in the home of the griffin rider, Hardis.

Arden knocked upon the door, and when Hardis answered, the two priests were sitting at a small table. Their eyes flew wide, and Runner stood from laying near a fire and happily moved to Jarren, wagging his tail and grinning a huge wolfish grin. Jarren stared at Runner grimly with his arms crossed and the big wolf whined and sheepishly lowered his head and lay down, covering his eyes with a big paw.

"We're going to have a long talk, Runner," Jarren said. "I am not pleased with you." Runner whined again and looked to the two priests. "Don't look at them Runner, I doubt they forced you to follow." He then looked at Marek and Kendrick. There appeared to be a great anger behind his eyes as he pointed at them both. "As for you two," he began quietly with a dangerous tone to his voice. Marek and Kendrick said not a word. But fidgeted restlessly as they both stood awaiting Jarren's wrath. The look in his eyes made Kendrick think that at any moment lightning might burst from his sockets and turn both he and Marek into piles of ash to later be swept out the door. "What—" he said very slowly. "What— were— the two of you thinking?" By the time the last word came out, it arrived in a shout that the priest could have sworn they felt in their chests. "How could you completely ignore what I said, and take the sword regardless?" His gaze seemed to rip right into Marek's heart.

"It— it was me," Kendrick said. "I'm the— I'm the one who took it. Marek only—"

"Followed along with you?" Jarren shouted. "When he should have stopped you and brought you back? Do you two know what we had to go through while hunting you down? And I'm sure I've pieced together what you two went through as well. You should feel blessed that you're still living. You should feel blessed that the sword isn't sitting at the bottom of a river or in the hands of skraeg!"

"You would not listen to reason, Jarren!" Marek rose to his full height and pointed at The Hunter accusingly. He was no longer afraid of Jarren's anger, but had grown angry himself. "The sword must go east. We have to try and find Jandrous himself! We cannot just hide behind Rosenguarde's walls expecting the son of the One God to come traipsing through the gates calling out to all that he was there for the sword!"

"Well we wouldn't have made it to Rosenguarde anyway!" Jarren shouted. "They are under siege by an army of skraeg! But the point is—" he said as he stepped close to the two priests and stared at Marek eye to eye. His furrowed brow gave over his prominent nose gave him a menacing appearance. "The point is, that sword was entrusted to me! Not to you, not to Kendrick, not to Runner!" He stared long at the wolf who slunk behind the priests. "I take that very seriously, and you should have as well!"

"And I do Jarren!" Marek exclaimed. "But I take even more seriously what that sword is, and the importance of its reaching Jandrous. Kendrick had the right of it, Jarren! The only way that sword was going to where ever it needs to go is if it was taken from you! It must reach—"

"I was visited," Kendrick said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. He struggled with how to find the right words for what he was about to say. "In Ravenhold in my room."

"Visited by whom?" Jarren asked, wondering what the young priest was getting at.

"Gaulin, the drayan— he came to me in my room," Kendrick replied. Jarren raised an eyebrow. "He told me I was given a mission by the One God, to see that the sword was delivered to Jandrous in the Valley of Dragons." No one spoke. Jarren looked long at the priest, judging whether he lied or spoke the truth.

"You are serious," Jarren said. It was a statement, not a question. Kendrick nodded and told of his encounter. "A mission from the One God himself?"

"Y— yes," Kendrick replied. Jarren stepped away from the priests and lowered himself slowly into a chair. He placed his elbows on the table and rubbed his face in his hands. Everyone else present stood in shock. Kieran was the first to break the silence.

"Does not a mission from the One God himself take precedence over a king's mission to you, Jarren?" she asked.

"Woman—" Jarren began. He looked long at her and appeared as though he wanted to shout but held his tongue. "Yes. Yes it does, Kieran." He leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through his hair. He was quiet a moment and looked at the priests, the wolf, Kieran and Tia and the others. Hardis still stood by the door with a look of total confusion. Everyone else looked to Jarren, wondering what he was going to say next. First he turned his attention on Hardis.

"Forgive me for my outbursts in your home," he said. Hardis nodded.

"No forgiveness necessary," the griffin rider said. "It appears this is a matter of great importance." Jarren thanked him, and again looked long at the others. His gaze travelled over them all, and rested finally on Tia. He let out a deep breath in an attempt to relax himself, but his jaw still visibly clenched as he ground his teeth.

"I'm not certain what decision I should make," he said.

"The right decision, Jarren," Tia said. "If what Kendrick says is true, then he must do as he was instructed by the drayan.

"Are you prepared to make that journey to the Valley of Dragons, Kendrick?" Jarren asked. "It will be a hard journey. There are likely skraeg and who knows what else, between here and there. There could be more walven— or worse."

"I do not see any other choice," Kendrick said with a tremble.

"It is decided then," Jarren rose from his chair and stood calmly before Kendrick. "You must do just that. But I will be coming with you and the sword returns to me and remains with me, understood?" He looked at Tia.

"Where you go, I go." Tia said.

"I will go as well," Marek said and took a step forward.

"You better believe you will, Marek." Jarren said. "We will resume your training in the sword tomorrow."

"Why do I suspect you're going to use my training to teach me a lesson other than in swordplay?" Marek asked. Jarren only smiled. One by one the others stepped forward. They would all go with them. All except Prince Arden, and the griffin rider."

"I'm afraid we take different paths, now." Arden said. "I must remain with my people, and prepare for the coming enemy." Drogan took Arden's hand in a strong shake.

"Thank you for all your help, Arden," Drogan said.

"You are welcome, " Arden said. "As of now, I must go to the E'eldakune A'hule A'e'eldroan. I will see you all again tonight. I would have you stay at the palace and rest until you are ready to begin your journey." He then stepped through the door.

"We should find a place to rest the day and make plans for our journey," Tia said after Arden had gone.

"You are welcome to stay here, until called to the palace if you like," Hardis told them. Tia thanked him and they all agreed, pleased to relax after the journey they all had. They had a small meal and told each other of their encounters with the walven.

"We tried to make Runner return to you Jarren, but he would not leave us," Marek said.

"It was a blessing he did not," Kendrick said. "If not for him—" The younger priest could not finish the thought.

"He has never left my side before, unless otherwise instructed to do so," Jarren scratched the wolf behind his ears. He was no longer angry with Runner. "He must have felt he had good reason to do so."

"Animals sometimes sense things we do not," Hardis explained. "Forever Lands wolves are very intelligent creatures." Jarren nodded in agreement.

"It would seem the walven were more interested in Marek and Kendrick, than in fighting Runner." Jarren looked at the two priests. "Walven smell those who are loyal to Jandrous. I also suspect they could smell the blood on the sword. Jandrous's very own blood. You two are lucky to be alive."

"We would not be, if not for Runner," Kendrick said.

"And it would have been for nothing, if Hardis had not found us," Marek finished.

"And Hardis," Jarren said. "I should ask you to keep the sword a secret."

"No need to ask," the griffin rider said with a nod. "I understand its importance and the danger of its existence reaching the wrong ears. I will tell not a soul that you carry it."

"You have my thanks," Jarren said.


They were summoned to the palace, the E'eldakune A'hule A'e'eldroan, later that night and their stay proved longer than expected as strong winter storms arrived, bringing strong winds, and heavy snow. Not wanting to risk traveling in such weather, they decided they would have no choice but to wait until the weather eased.

"But what if it does not, Jarren?" Kendrick asked as they all sat at a long wooden table.

"Well it has once, and we can hope it will again," Jarren answered. "If there is no change within the week, than we will take our chances. We are likely to encounter more weather as we travel anyway."

"I hope the others from Ravenhold are alright." Kieran said.

"As do we all," Drogan agreed. He was thinking particularly of Annyaa. "At the least, this weather will slow down the skraeg."

"Not by much," Jarren informed them. "The Skraeg handle the cold quite well. They've been known to move about in the worst blizzards. Remember, they were at Ravenhold's walls after the storm froze the river." No one could deny what he said.

"Let us just hope our friends, and the people of Ravenhold make it here safely," Kieran said. Drogan held Annyaa's lock of hair in his fist and said a silent prayer for her safety.


Three days later, they arrived in a heavy snow, cold and tired, and were met by the Griffinwood elves with a hospitable welcome. Upon hearing the news, Drogan rushed from the E'eldakune A'hule A'e'eldroan calling out Annyaa's name as he moved among the mass of refugees. They were still entering E'eldaduranus in droves. He found her somewhere in the center of the crowd, and held her in a long embrace as the people continued to move past. She buried her face in his chest, and they stood together without saying a word. Broan, Durinald, and Donnagan stood nearby watching silently as Jarren and the rest met them.

"Drogan," Annyaa said finally. "I've been walking for days in this cold. I'm exhausted and I think I've forgotten what being warm feels like. Can we go inside somewhere now, please?" This brought forth a hearty laugh from the others as they watched, and they all moved closer to offer hugs to one another.

"Come you fool," Jarren placed a hand on Drogan's shoulder. "Let us all get inside and warm." Drogan smiled sheepishly, and they all returned to the palace.


"I'm going with you," Annyaa said that night as they all gathered.

"What?" Drogan shook his head. "No, Annyaa. We've already been through this. It's far too dangerous!"

"Meanwhile, an army of skraeg advances toward this very elven city, and I've already been through one dangerous experience after another," she argued. "Will I truly be safe anywhere now?"

"You will be protected here, Annyaa."

"For how long, Drogan?"

"You are not a soldier, Annyaa." Drogan shook his head. "I will not always be able to protect you if we face danger."

"And how can you protect me if you are not here with me? I can learn to protect myself if I must."

"Against skraeg, Annyaa?" Drogan asked. "Against walven? Or worse?" He shook his head. The matter was closed. "The truth of the matter is you are likely going to have to learn to protect yourself. But not where we are going. Broan, the elves, someone here can train you to fight if you must fight. Here you have a chance to survive and here you will stay." He did not want to tell her that he may not return from the mission he was taking. There was a good chance none of them would. They knew not what they were traveling into, what dangers were out there waiting for them. They could be killed by skraeg, walven, any number of people or creatures, and just as easily freeze to death if caught in a storm. They may never make it to the Valley Of Dragons. He knew she was still recovering from her captivity by Andorin as well. Her ribs had taken a beating from continuously being thrown over a horse's back on her stomach. He reached down and grabbed her side with one hand and squeezed. She winced from the pain and cried out. "You are still hurt, Annyaa. I cannot allow it. And I know the others will not as well."

"I don't want to lose you, Drogan." She said quietly and lowered her head.

"And I don't want to lose you either, Annyaa. So you better be waiting for me when I return." He reached for her and held her close.

"Do not worry so much for your beloved Drogan, Annyaa." Tia said with a smile. "I have seen him in battle. He is a fierce conqueror of rabbits." This brought a round of laughter from all, including Drogan and Annyaa.


The next few days found Jarren training Marek once more in the use of his sword. Much to the everyone's entertainment. Marek was becoming quite proficient, but Jarren repeatedly smacked him with the flat of his blade.

"That hurt!" Marek complained, as Jarren struck him in hard in the ribs. It became apparent to Marek that The Hunter was punishing him for taking the sword along with Kendrick.

"I know," Jarren smiled.

"Perhaps you should take some of this aggression out on Kendrick?" Marek said as Jarren deftly moved the priest's sword aside, and struck him again. "Ouch!"

"Kendrick does not use a weapon," Jarren said circling to Kendrick's right.

"Well perhaps he should learn," Tia said. She arrived carrying three long staves, nearly as long as Jarren was tall.

"Oh no," Kendrick stood nearby, waving his hands to dismiss the idea. "I could never use a sword."

"Who said anything about swords?" Tia smiled. "That's what these are for. A staff would better suit you, I think."

"This is going to be grand," Kieran laughed and patted Kendrick on the back.

"You will notice, Kieran," Tia smiled mischievously. "I carry three staves." Kieran gulped and swallowed her laughter. "You will need to be able to protect yourself as well, Kieran." Everyone winced as Marek let out another shout of pain. Jarren had smacked him quite sharply on his backside and smiled triumphantly.

"Is Runner going to get any of this punishment?" Marek shouted.

"No, I think not," Jarren replied. "Runner could eat me, which of course I may have him do just that to you. Besides, I've come to the conclusion he went along with you simply to keep an eye on you two villains." He smiled as he locked his blade against Marek's and put his boot to the priest's chest, knocking him onto his back in the snow.

"Oh forgive me," The Hunter apologized. "I don't believe I've instructed you in that move yet."

"No," Marek grunted. "I don't believe you have." Jarren simply smiled.


Terrible winter storms enveloped the Griffinwood that night, a massive front of blizzards that in fact covered much of Isandros, and postponed the party's journey not only days, but for weeks. They spent their time in E'eldaduranus planning their journey and drilling in weapons tactics. Kendrick grew more restless with each passing day, but Jarren and the others considered it a blessing. With each passing day Kendrick, Marek, and Kieran grew more proficient in their weapons. Jarren and Tia explained to them the more skilled they became at protecting themselves, the better off they would all be if they encountered danger. Although Kendrick was anxious to be on the move, he knew The Hunter and the elven woman were correct. Marek began sparring with other partners. Jarren advised him that sparring against only himself would hinder his progress. All combatants would act and react in different ways. So the priest found himself sparring with Drogan, Faldrek, Tia, and occasionally Prince Arden as well as many of the e'eld soldiers. Kieran and Kendrick were put through the paces as well against Tia and many others. Jarren especially was pleased with their progress and congratulated them all accordingly. Especially on one occasion, when sparring against Marek. Jarren had moved in close to Marek, and the two had locked swords. When Jarren stepped away from the priest, Marek had snuck his left foot between The Hunter's legs and hooked the heel of his right boot. Marek stepped forward and gave Jarren a light shove, knocking him off balance. When he fell on his back, he found the point of Marek's sword at his throat.

"Well done, Marek!" Jarren smiled as Marek grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet. "I do not recall showing you that move. Was it Drogan? One of the elves?"

"No, Jarren," Marek smiled back. "It simply seemed a good idea at the time."

"Well done indeed then." Jarren brushed the snow from his backside as the rest applauded Marek with hand claps and shouts. "However, remember Marek. If you can do that to someone, then someone can do the same to you. Do not make the mistake of putting yourself in the situation as I did. I made a mistake. I underestimated you, and if this were a real battle I would be dead." Those words sobered the moment of victory Marek felt. And his companions sobered with him. What Jarren said was true. At some time on their coming journey they may find themselves fighting a real battle against real enemies. When that time came, any one of them could fall. Even the legendary Jarren The Hunter.

Drogan spent much of his time with Annyaa, and when the weather permitted, they would walk through the elven city holding hands and sharing stories of their childhoods in Misting Hill. These walks were far and few between because the weather would always quickly return to the heavy snows and high winds. But the two made the most of their time and enjoyed each other's company immensely. Jarren spoke with and walked often with Kieran as well. She rarely asked him about the "legend" he had become known to so many, but rather asked about his experiences in his own words. He was pleased to explain to her who the "real" Jarren The Hunter was. Of course, often times the legend and the real Jarren were very much the same. But Kieran was more interested in knowing who the man behind the legend was. The Hunter, or The Traveller as some called him, would have to wait. Who was Jarren the man? What were his beliefs, his dreams, his favorite food? What drove his honor or his faith? Why did he struggle with his relationship to the One God, despite what would seem a strong faith? Why did he have such terrible nightmares?

"They come and go," Jarren exclaimed. "The majority of them are memories, battles I've fought, terrible things I've witnessed and perhaps even done. I relive them often in my sleep. "They appear so real, sometimes I forget I'm waking from a dream when I sit up from where I lay sweating and shivering. I've been known to wake up thinking I'm still in the middle of the dream from time to time." He smiled and looked down at Kieran as they walked. "Sometimes, I think the One God allows the dreams only to keep me humble." Jarren chuckled softly.

"When you are awake," Kieran said. "You seem so in control of your emotions, normally. You seem calm and level headed, even while in danger. But sometimes when you sleep you thrash about violently and shout. Are the dreams really so terrible?"

"Indeed they are," Jarren replied. "Indeed they are."


The storms and heavy snowfall brought Isandros to a halt. Even the skraeg either retreated to find shelter, or in some cases even returned to Ravenhold. The skraeg besieging Rosenguarde had no choice but to move into the mountains surrounding the walled city where they would find caves to wait out the weather. In the Forever Lands, the elves held a great council. They were joined by dwarves come down from the surrounding mountains and taurians, including Turohk, the general who's army came to the aid of the elves and dwarves at E'eldfellen. It was Turohk who made the case that they must combine their armies and march east to meet the massive horde under Belkarus's command.

"Belkarus's allies are already spreading across the lands like wildfire," he said. "And the full strength of his forces still march with him. It is my understanding that massive amounts of skraeg have already sacked some cities and towns and villages, and that Ravenhold and Rosenguarde would be under siege if they are not already. We stand no chance against them if we simply wait for Belkarus to take one city at a time, and in the end one kingdom at a time."

"We cannot, however, leave our own lands undefended," Grea'oran argued. "Sending the majority of our own armies east so more skraeg can swoop down out of the mountains and take our own homes, killing everyone and everything in their path?"

"We send two thirds," Turohk said. "There are no more enemies from my homeland, Grea'oran. Those that survived at E'eldfellen are on the return to Kyleria in chains. The rest swore allegiance to Jandrous before my army sailed on their heels. We keep one third in our homelands as a precaution."

"As well," Thol Durgan added. "The grey beasts from the Axeweavers, the very same that took Eagle's Crest have moved east nearly in their entirety toward Rosenguarde." Thol Durgan was big by dwarven standards, standing taller than most of his kind, with arms nearly as big a taurian's. He wore his thick red hair in a braid down his back, with braids woven into his beard and mustache. The dwarven general's deep voice was one that commanded attention, and his fierce ice blue eyes appeared to bore into one's very soul. He was clothed in black leggings and black mail armor with a surcoat and cloak the color of blood. "A foolish move on their part. They have enabled us to march freely east." He let his gaze pass over all the elves, dwarves, and taurians assembled at the long table. They came to a rest on Turohk. "In my lifetime alone I have seen taurians kill my kindred and our elven allies, and I have killed many taurians. Let the dwarves now offer a hand of friendship to you and yours, Turohk, and become allies and friends in this war. I stand with you and agree." He slammed a big heavy fist on the table to emphasize his words. "We must march!" The council erupted into arguments between those for and those against marching east.

"Quiet please," Grea'oran shouted above their voices but was unheard above the tumult. "Everyone, please!" Suddenly, and without warning, Turohk slammed his massive fists hard upon the table with a resounding boom, and bellowed a frightening bull-like roar. The council was shocked into such a silence they could hear each other's breathing.

"As you were saying, Prince Grea'oran." The big taurian general gave him a nod.

"I understand, and take to heart all arguments for and against," he said while looking around the table at all present. "I looked upon the sky myself the night the horn sounded and stars disappeared. I knew this day would come. Marching to war is never an easy decision, but it is a decision that must be made today. Shouting amongst ourselves is not helping us come to that decision. I have already made up my mind in what we should do, but I would like to hear from my son." He looked at Lian, sitting at his right side. Lian rose and drew his sword from his scabbard. He placed it on the table with the point facing east.

"The Border Guard stand ready to ride out of the Forever Lands." Lian said nothing more, and sat down. The silence was deafening. Never in history had the border guard ridden out of their homeland. Lian'asuran was respected by all, and for him to suggest the Border Guard was needed elsewhere rather than in the Forever Lands spoke volumes. They all looked upon the sword. No one blinked. Finally, Thol Durgan rose and broke the silence.

"I propose we put it to a vote," the dwarven general said. "What say you all?" One by one, some immediately and others hesitantly rose. One by one they nodded their agreement. All stood at the table, with the exception of Lian who still sat. Looks of confusion began to appear on their faces until Lian, still sitting, lifted the sword once more and then slammed it upon the wooden table.

"East," he said.

The remainder of the meeting focused on when they would march, and where, and how they would get where they were going. Although many were concerned with the weather, another vote decided they would march regardless. Even among them, the taurians, the dwarves, and the elves, there were priests who had discovered the gift of asking the One God for fire and being able to find warmth even in the event of blizzard or the lack of dry woods. They would march with an army of priests if they could gather enough of them. As well, the dwarves and the e'eld were well skilled in finding shelter even in open lands, and the dwarves could build tents strong enough to weather the strongest of winds and house large numbers of soldiers. At the end their biggest concerns were food— how much they should take with them and how they would find it as they journeyed. This was something, of course, that the elves could do well, but feeding an army was an undertaking. The dwarves had an abundant supply of short, long haired cattle accustomed to cold climates, as well as sheep and goats that could be driven along with the armies, and the elves had grains and dried wheat and numerous other dried foods, as well as berries and fruits that grew in the Forever Lands in all seasons. Taurians were master fishermen, and with the help of the elves could quickly gather large amounts of fish from the rivers and lakes of the Forever Lands. The fish would be preserved in salt for the long journey. It was a huge task, they all agreed, but working together they concluded it could be done. Dwarven, elven, and taurian smiths would make all manner of weapons and armor and tools, and the taurians along with the dwarves could make siege engines if a siege was necessary. They covered all plans and possibilities in their council, and when the meeting was over they immediately got their people to work. Riders were sent to the mountains to spread the word to the dwarves, throughout the Forever Lands to the elves, and south to Kyleria to the taurians. The armies would move east as soon as all were assembled. To Rosenguarde, they would go— capital city of Erinor and the center of the allied kingdoms of Isandros. East to defend themselves against slavery and death. East to ensure life for their people. East under the banner of the One True King, Jandrous.

East to war.



©Anthony David Rosenthal/To The Valley Of Dragons 2010