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

Chapter 18: Fire From The Mouths Of Beasts

They traveled through the Griffinwood silently and carefully, but as quickly as they could. They wanted to draw no attention to themselves by possible Skraeg patrols, but were set on putting as much distance between themselves and Jarren as was possible. They knew he would be coming. For all they knew he was already on their trail. Kendrick imagined the Forever Lands wolf springing out of the shadows and taking down his horse, before Jarren, in a rage ran him down and ran him through.

"You don't believe Jarren would kill us when he caught up to us, do you?" Kendrick asked.

"No," Marek chuckled. "But as angry as he likely is right now, we may wish he did."

"That does not ease my nerves, Marek."

"No, I suppose it does not." Marek looked over his shoulder. "Nor does it ease mine." They continued riding in the darkness of the night, Kendrick holding the egg shaped light above his head to light their way. Sometimes they would hear a twig snap or the sound of something or someone moving through undergrowth, and Kendrick would extinguish the light as they held their breath for countless moments before deciding it was safe to continue. They were just cresting a small hill when behind them was a low growl. Startled, Kendrick and Marek both turned in their saddles, nearly crying out in surprise with their hearts in their throats. Out of the shadows of the trees came Runner. Upon seeing the big wolf, they were certain Jarren had caught them. They waited for The Hunter to appear, but when he failed to follow the wolf, Marek lowered himself from the saddle.

"Runner, did you follow us alone?" Marek looked beyond the wolf, still waiting for Jarren. Runner let out a whine and looked back the way he came but then sat. "You have to go back. Go on now, Runner. Go back to Jarren." But the wolf remained where he was. Marek returned to his horse and pulled himself back into the saddle. "Come on Kendrick, let's get going." And then he turned to the wolf once more. "You must go back to Jarren, Runner. He'll be looking for you." He eased his horse forward, motioning Kendrick to do the same. Again, Runner growled and stood. "What is it, Runner?" Marek whispered. But Runner only let out another long low growl, looking beyond the hill. "Put out that light Kendrick," he said.

"Do you think he's trying to tell us something?" Kendrick asked as the flame disappeared.

"I think so." Again he lowered himself from the saddle, and quietly made his way up the rise. Suddenly he threw himself to the ground, laying on his stomach.

"What is it, Marek?" But Marek quickly put up his hand for silence.

"Hssst!" he turned and placed a finger to his lips. Down below he saw a number of large shapes moving through the trees. He waited, holding his breath, trying to get a glimpse of what or who the shapes were as they moved concealed by the vegetation of the woods. Finally, one came into view. They were skraeg, moving in a south easterly direction. When they disappeared from his sight, Marek returned to Kendrick. "Skraeg," he whispered. "A dozen of them."

"What should we do?" Kendrick asked. His voice shook, unable to hide his fear.

"Let them pass and go on for a while," Marek answered. "After a few moments we'll head directly east." He then climbed back to the top of the hill, wanting to make sure they were not returning before he returned once more and remounted. "Come now, quietly. And no fire." He motioned once more for Runner to leave. "Go on Runner. Go back to Jarren." But instead of turning away when Marek and Kendrick moved forward, he followed.

"I think we're stuck with him," Kendrick whispered after some time.

"It appears that way," Marek agreed. "I suppose he was probably behind us the whole time."

"Well, now what do we do?" Kendrick looked at the wolf.

"I guess we should count our blessings," Marek answered. "If he hadn't warned us, we likely would have been seen by the skraeg."

"Are you sure Jarren didn't send him after us?"

"Not likely, Kendrick. If that had been the case, Runner would have alerted him." He opened a sack as he rode, and took out some bread and broke off half for Kendrick. "I think we should continue riding throughout the night. We'll take a short rest in an hour or so."

When they finally stopped to rest, Kendrick lowered himself from the saddle and stretched. A heavy fog blanketed the forest floor, rolling along the ground and between the trees like a thick spectral cloud, adding to the eeriness and nervousness both the priests already felt. It was dark and chill, and every sound was intensified, making the smallest whisper seem nearly a shout.

"At least it's not snowing, or raining, or cold enough to freeze us solid. Do you think it's safe for some light?" he asked.

"It may be." Marek nodded toward the wolf. "I'm sure he'll alert us if anything comes near." So they sat down and spoke quietly to each other about their lives, so they could know each other better. Kendrick cradled the small egg shaped fire in his lap. As long as he held it, the flames were safe and would do know harm. And while not burning wood, the flames were smokeless, so there was no fear of a possible enemy catching the scent and discovering them. The fire did however create enough heat to keep them both warm if they sat close together. "And I agree, it appears the One God is showing some mercy in this Long Winter."

"What made you decide to try the fire on your sword, Marek?" Kendrick asked.

"I don't know for certain," he said. "Perhaps— perhaps because I've already chosen my weapon." He lifted his sword scabbard for reference. "I did recognize the benefit of such a thing though. So I asked for fire for my sword and it was granted." He smiled. "It's a sight to behold as well, I think."

"It's certainly something to see." Kendrick smiled back. "If that doesn't strike a little fear into the enemy, what will?"

"Well I'm not the swordsman Jarren is, so I'll take all the help I can get." Marek laughed. "I still have much to learn about fighting I think—" A terrible howl in the distance cut him short. It was like the howl of many ghostly wolves, but with one voice. Runner rose and growled low, the fur on his back standing straight up.

"What was that?" Kendrick asked. The sound was frightening and Kendrick knew the fear was evident in his voice.

"A wolf I think," Marek said. His voice shook as well. "I've never heard a wolf howl quite like that though." Again the terrible howl sounded. "Perhaps we should put out that light." Kendrick agreed and let the flame disappear. But when they heard the sound once more, while sitting in total darkness, it made the howl even more frightful.

"Maybe we should be moving on." Kendrick suggested.

"I'm not sure I want to be moving about in the night with whatever made that sound. It seems to be quite far off, but I'd rather not risk it," Marek said.

"You think Jarren will rest until he catches us?" the younger priest asked.

"I doubt it, but maybe we've got enough of a lead on him to rest for now." He lay back with his arms behind his head. "We'll just rest for an hour or two. Enough to rest the horses, and ourselves, and be off again."

They only meant to close their eyes for a few moments. But exhaustion took over and they both fell into a deep sleep. Runner growled menacingly and they woke with a start. And then another howl, very close this time, brought them both to their feet. The horses neighed and jumped, wide eyed and threatening to break free of their lines.

"How long did I sleep?" Marek hissed, reaching for his sword.

"I don't know, Marek." Kendrick peered into the darkness. "I fell asleep as well!" He quickly moved to the horses, trying to calm them. Marek grabbed their belongings and the Sword of Jandrous before joining him. Together they whispered soothing words to the horses. They were able to quiet them, but their eyes remained wide, and their nostrils flared as they bared their teeth. Runner stared into the darkness, ears laid back and hackles raised. He growled, baring his sharp teeth. "Let's get out of here!" he whispered urgently to Marek.

"We don't know what's out there, Kendrick!" Marek countered. "Quiet Runner!" he then hissed. Runner made not a sound but remained where he stood, ready to attack whatever was out there. They stood there, holding the reins of their horses, watching the tree line where the big wolf stared. Then they saw the flames, a large torch perhaps, as something moved slowly through the undergrowth. They watched as the torch moved through the forest around them, appearing and disappearing between the trees and vegetation, drawing closer. Runner slowly turned as whatever was out there circled them. And then behind the trees, the torch stopped moving, and they peered uncertainly into the darkness at what appeared to be two large, green glowing, eye shaped orbs beyond the torch. A dark mass of flame and black fur suddenly sprang from the trees, leaves and branches exploding out before it, and entangled in two large twisted black horns.

"Run you fool" Kendrick thought to himself, but was frozen in fear as the beast bore down on them. The horses broke free and bolted, and Marek grabbed hold of Kendrick's sleeve pulling him along.

"Run Kendrick!" Marek shouted. Runner threw himself into a wolf like beast that was taller and broader than the largest of horses as the two priests found their legs and ran. It charged after them as they passed, ignoring Runner, but the big Forever Lands wolf attacked it again, forcing it to turn its attention away from the fleeing priests. "Runner come!" Marek shouted as they ran through the dark forest. The beast grabbed hold of Runner in its flaming jaws and flung him aside, continuing after the priests once more. Great flames escaped its jaws with every breath as though a blacksmith's forge rested within its body. It let out that same ghostly howl, and was answered by others.

"There are more of them!" Kendrick shouted as they ran. The two of them ran carelessly, recklessly, through the Griffinwood. Growth slapping and scratching them as they tore through the trees and vegetation. They could hear Runner snarling and growling as once again he attacked slowing down their pursuer. "What about Runner?" Kendrick asked.

"He's buying us time!" Marek shouted. "Just run, Kendri—" The ground dropped from underneath them and they felt themselves falling. And then they hit the water hard. Kendrick struggled to the surface, the frigid waters a shock to his entire being, and found himself caught in a raging torrent of a river. Snow melt filling and fueling the river sent him racing down stream. He turned and twisted and rolled as the waters carried him against his will. Frantically he searched for Marek and found him, miraculously within arms reach, but he was facedown. The thunder of the rushing waters was deafening and he could not hear himself call out to the older priest. He fought to get behind him and cradled him against his chest trying to keep his head above the water. For a moment he thought he saw Runner sprinting alongside the river, but the waters turned him about. and he could not spot him again. Swimming to the riverbank was an impossibility, the currents too strong, so Kendrick focused all his attention on keeping Marek's head above water. But the cold waters were quickly sapping his strength and despite his best efforts, his arms finally grew to weak to hold the warrior priest any longer.

"I'm sorry!" Kendrick shouted as he helplessly watched the raging river pull the unconscious Marek away from his grasp. "I'm so sorry Marek! I tried!" He watched as the river carried him away and wanted to weep. "This is all my fault," he thought. "All my fault." It would not be long, he realized, before the currents dragged him under and he would breathe his last breath underwater. His lungs would fill and he would die. "One God, forgive me," he said in his mind. "I tried, I really tried." His strength giving way, he found himself tumbled and tossed by the rough river, swallowing water with every attempted breath. He saw the large rock jutting out of the river a second before he hit it hard. The currents spun him around and his back and head slammed into the stone. He felt himself fading, losing consciousness, just as something massive snatched him out of the waters in a mighty claw. The sensation of being carried by the river was replaced by one of soaring into the sky, and then everything went black.

Kendrick woke to the sound of coughing, choking, and gasping for air. He lay on his back, and tried to rise to a sitting position. The pain in his head and back changed his mind, and he slowly turned his head in the direction of the coughing. A tall elf, blonde haired, and wearing leather armor and a dark green cloak kneeled beside a miserable looking Marek. He patted the priest on the back as he coughed and choked up swallowed water.

"We have to get out of here," Kendrick said weakly through chattering teeth. "Terrible beasts."

"I saw them," the elf said as he stood. He approached Kendrick and examined the back of the young priest's head. "You're going to be sore, but I believe you'll be alright. You have a minor injury to the back of your head. It could have been much worse. Do you feel ill?"

"No," Kendrick answered. "Just cold, and my back hurts, and my head is killing me."

"It may have killed you, had I not happened upon you when I did," the elf said. "I looked up from the other side of the river just as you both fell in."

"The sword!" Marek suddenly croaked.

"I assume you mean this?" The elf bent down and picked up the wrapped object and their packs. "You had them both in a death grip even as my griffin pulled you out of the river unconscious." He then looked up at the sky through the trees. "It will be dawn soon. You need not worry about the beasts. Walven rarely hunt in the day. However, there is a bridge nearby. We should cross it. If we must, we can cut the ropes and drop it into the river. The beasts will not attempt to cross through those waters. Can the both of you walk?" They both nodded and slowly rose.

"Did you see a big wolf?" Marek asked as the elf led them to the bridge. "A big Forever Lands wolf?"

"No, I'm sorry. I did not."

"I hope he is alright." Kendrick said. When they reached the bridge, they crossed and the elf pulled a small axe from his belt, ready to cut the ropes if the need arose. "

"I remember seeing you in Ravenhold," Marek said. "Hardis, correct?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for your help," Marek said. "We would both be dead now, if not for you. Where is your griffin?"

"He's up there," Hardis explained. "Keeping an eye on the walven. He'll find us shortly." The sky was beginning to lighten then, and Hardis turned to the priests. "I would start a fire, but I'm afraid we're not going to find any dry wood." Kendrick asked for fire, and set the small flame before them.

"Ask the One God for fire, and you shall be granted fire," Kendrick explained when Hardis's eyes grew wide. The griffin rider thought on it a moment and nodded his head with a smile.

"Amazing," he said. "These are interesting times to say the least." A moment later, Marek and Kendrick both stood and almost shouted in joy. Trotting across the bridge came a singed, but otherwise unharmed Runner.

"Ha! You found us!" Kendrick hugged the big wolf around the neck, as did Marek. Some of Runner's fur along his back was shorter and showed evidence of fire. But the wolf wagged his tail and grinned at the two priests as they showed him attention. He then lay down and rested his head on his paws. His tail was still wagging as he closed his eyes to rest. Shortly after, the griffin landed. Runner opened his eyes momentarily, but closed them again.

"I believe Runner has the right idea," Marek said. "But I think we should be moving soon."

"Where were you traveling?" Hardis asked.

"East." Marek said no more.

"Well east of here, the Griffinwood are crawling with Skraeg," Hardis told them. "West as well. I was scouting all their locations when I stopped to rest and found you. As soon as I and other riders take the news to E'eldaduranus, we'll make preparations to move on them. I would suggest you two come with me."

"I'm afraid we cannot," Marek said. "We must go east. It is very important."

"I'm sorry, but I would highly recommend you come with me. There are far too many skraeg about. As well, I would never have believed I would see walven in the Griffinwood. If you are on some mission of high importance, whatever it may be, it is better that you live to accomplish it late, than to die and not accomplish it at all."

"Maybe he's right," Kendrick sighed. "We lost our horses too, Marek. Perhaps we can find a way through after we've gone to E'lda—"

"E'eldaduranus." Hardis finished for him. "Elven Home in your tongue, if that helps." Kendrick nodded. Marek looked long at Kendrick, and then nodded his head in agreement. Hardis then moved to the griffin, and after searching through his bags, produced two wool blankets. He handed one to each of the priests. "You should get out of those wet clothes. Wrap yourselves in these while they dry."

"Well, we're off to a great start," Marek said with a tone of sarcasm.

"Story of my life since I left Danir, Marek." Kendrick tossed a small stone into the trees in frustration. "Story of my life."



"Two horses carrying riders, and one Forever Lands Wolf," Tia said, kneeling by the prints. "They came this way." She remounted Silverprince, her roa'an, beside Jarren. The sun was just beginning to chase away the darkness of the Griffinwood, but it did little to warm the day or Jarren's spirits. Sunlight, after so many gloomy, cold, wet, and snowy days would have been a very welcome sight. But Jarren was concerned only with finding the priests, the wolf, and of course the sword.

"We've been traveling all night, Jarren." Arden moved his horse alongside The Hunter's. "We should probably rest."

"How old do you deem the tracks, Tia?" Jarren asked.

"I believe they have at least a three hour lead on us, Jarren," she answered.

"We'll rest for three hours then," Jarren said. "They'll likely have rested as well at some point. And I want to continue the search while we have light. I think we'll find them before dusk."

"You don't mean to hurt them, do you?" Kieran asked.

"Hurt them?" Jarren shook his head. "No, of course not. I would be lying, however, if I were to say I didn't want to. What they've done is foolish, and reckless. And to think, Runner didn't warn me. Marek will get his punishment, when next we spar. As for Kendrick and the wolf, I don't know."

"Hsssst," Tia whispered harshly. Tia and Arden heard the sound a moment before the others. She dismounted once more and stepped up a small hill. Jarren followed, along with Drogan and Arden. Tia pointed. In the distance, marching through the trees of the Griffinwood, was an army of skraeg warriors. Drogan's eyes grew wide at the sight of them.

"The same that attacked Ravenhold, I would think," Drogan said.

"Or another army. I'm sure they want to keep Ravenhold well defended," Jarren replied. "Regardless, let's get down and out of sight. Anyone needing sleep, sleep now. We should take our turns at keeping watch as well." Their rest was undisturbed however, and after a few short sleeps, they all ate before resuming their tracking the woods for Marek and Kendrick. Although they had to stop twice more and hide as large groups of skraeg marched by, it was not long before they found the location of the two priest's camp. Tia looked about the ground, concerned.

"I believe there was trouble here," she said. "Marek and Kendrick's prints go eastward and they were running. Their horses ran north. And look," she continued while motioning for Jarren to take a look at the tracks. He dismounted and stood beside her while she kneeled before a large print. "Wolf like, but much larger."

"Walven—" Jarren whispered. " Two of them. And it appears Runner tangled with them before they all ran east— Marek, Kendrick, and Runner, with the walven on their heels."

"Walven?" Drogan asked.

"Huge, wolf like creatures from far to the east," Jarren answered. "That they're this far west is strange."

"I know what they are," Drogan replied. "But I never thought they were real. I thought they were just stories."

"They are very real, Drogan," Tia said. "And very dangerous. This bodes ill for our friends, if they had an encounter with them."

"It's obvious they did have an encounter with walven." Jarren was grim, shaking his head.

"Should we try and find their horses?" Faldrek asked. Jarren thought a moment and then nodded.

"Yes. Two of us can. But don't go far, and keep a wary eye for skraeg."

"Then Faldrek and I will do so," Drogan said. As they rode away, Jarren, Tia, and Arden studied the ground for more clues. They all came to the conclusion that Runner had put up a fight while the two priests made their escape. Jarren followed the tracks a short distance before coming to a stop. Marek and Kendrick's tracks stopped abruptly where the ground dropped sharply. Below, the waters of a river raged. His eyes went wide.

"They fell here," he whispered. Runners prints continued south, and he followed them until finding an area where it was possible to go down to the river's edge. There, Runner's prints seemed to sprint alongside. Stopping a few times more, where it appeared the Forever Lands wolf again encountered the walven. Occasionally another set of walven tracks would join the others. In all, it appeared there were at least four of the beasts pursuing the two priests. At one point the walven gave up their pursuit, and Runner had continued following the river. Jarren returned to the others. "I'm afraid Kendrick and Marek were washed down river." Kieran read the grim look on Jarren's face.

"Do you think they're—" She could not bring herself to finish the question, but Jarren understood.

"I do not know," he answered. "But the river is angry with snow melt. Their tracks led to a drop and ended there. I have no doubt they fell into the river's rushing waters."

"And Runner?" Tia asked.

"By his tracks, I would assume he ran along the river's edge, trying to pursue them," Jarren said. "He tangled with walven a few times, and then continued along the river again. I believe there were at least four of the beasts. It appears they gave up the chase."

"Dawn was near?" Arden asked.

"Likely," Jarren answered with a nod.

"What has dawn to do with anything?" Kieran asked.

"Walven tend to dislike daylight," Tia answered her.

"Nor do they like water," Jarren added. "If Marek and Kendrick made it to the other side of the river, by any chance, they would be safe."

They rested while waiting for Drogan and Faldrek who returned shortly, each leading a second horse, those lost by the priests when they bolted in fear. Arden informed the two soldiers of Jarren's finds, and they all ageed they should continue in haste to find the two priests. All expected the worse, and Kieran forced back tears, thinking the only condition they would find the priests, if they found the priests, was dead and drowned.

"How could anyone survive falling into that?" Kieran looked to the river below. The snow melt had turned it into a thunderous torrent with churning white waters. Anything caught in the river's journey south, quickly disappeared, so fast did it travel. The others stood beside her, all shaking their heads and assuming the worst.

"Another question is," Jarren wondered aloud. "If we find them, will the sword still be in their possession, or is it lost somewhere at the bottom of that river?"

"And what if it is not?" Kieran turned on him in anger. "Should we not worry about the sword right now, and worry instead for Kendrick and Marek? They could be out here in these cursed woods somewhere, hurt, or worse!"

"If they had not taken the sword to begin with," Jarren turned to her. "They would not have found themselves in whatever situation they may be. Instead they crept out of camp like thieves, taking the one thing that may someday end this Long Winter."

"Kendrick is hardly a thief," Kieran said angrily with her hands on hips. "If he took the sword, he must have felt he had good reason."

"That does not change the fact that the sword was entrusted to me by King Erehk, and they took it despite that fact. They took it from my possession, and now we find ourselves hunting them down, and wondering if the sword is lost, or even worse, in enemy hands!" Jarren nearly shouted. "They should not have taken it. I told Marek the sword stays with me."

"Well they did take it," Kieran shouted. "And perhaps you should show some concern for them as well as that cursed sword!"

"Do you not understand the importance of that blade, woman?" The Hunter's tone grew menacingly quiet, and he fixed her with an icy stare. "If we lose that sword, and are not able to put it in Jandrous' own hands, everything is lost." He turned toward their mounts, but stopped and turned to Kieran once more. "Do not presume, woman, that I have no care for the two priests. You would do well to mind your tongue and question me like this no more." After pulling himself into his saddle, he motioned for the others to do the same. "We should be able to follow Runner's tracks," he said. "With hope, perhaps they will lead us to Marek and Kendrick."

Jarren's assumptions proved correct, and after following the wolf's tracks along the river, they found the tracks of three persons as well as a griffin. All but the griffin, had left on foot moving south.

"Well, at least we can be certain the two survived," Tia said. "It appears Runner did not stop but passed right through here. He was still following them."

"I would assume they met a griffin rider and are in his company now," Arden added. "That's good news."

"Agreed," Jarren nodded. "Let's move on." He rode off with the others following single file. They found where the priests, griffin rider, and wolf had crossed the bridge to the other side, but the bridge had been cut down. The river rolled and thundered through the narrow canyon below them. Jarren dismounted and walked away from the others for a moment, clearly agitated. He paced back and forth and clenched a fist. Finally he stopped and returned to stand before Arden. "How likely is it that there is another bridge nearby?"

"It's doubtful, Jarren." Arden answered. "The next bridge could be half a day's ride, or two or three day's ride from here."

"Any villages or settlements?"

"I believe there is one— but it would be on the other side of the river. The next closest, would be at least a day's ride south. This far north in the Griffinwood, settlements are scarce."

"I think we better pray the next bridge is not so far away then," Jarren said. "We're on the side of the river with a small pack of walven somewhere nearby."

"No time to rest then," Arden said. "We should be moving, and quickly." Jarren looked across the gap to the other side once more, clenching his teeth. Then he nodded, remounted, and led the party south. They would ride until they found a way across the river, he decided. He wanted to avoid the walven, and the skraeg at all costs. The traveled south for the remainder of the day looking for another way across the river, but as the day turned to evening, and the shadows grew larger, Jarren finally brought everyone to a halt.

"We'll rest the night," he said, shaking his head. "We'll continue on as soon as there's enough light tomorrow." Everyone slowly eased out of their saddles and began making camp. They decided not to build a fire. It would be to difficult, due to the dampness, and they wanted to remain unseen. "The walven are likely out there somewhere," Jarren said. "As well as skraeg. Let's not draw any unwanted attention to ourselves if possible." The rest agreed, and they huddled together for a short meal of dried meats and fruits, and then they decided who would take first watch for the night. And as the others slept, Drogan and Jarren stayed awake, quietly searching the trees around them, as they sat upon a hollowed out tree trunk. As they listened for anything that may be suspicious, Drogan wondered on many sounds in the night. Jarren quickly explained each one— a fallen branch, a bobcat, a deer, a night hawk taking flight. Every time a sound reached their ears, The Hunter had a name for it and Drogan assumed he was probably correct. One just did not question someone like Jarren on such things. Not only because of his legendary status, but also because the man was so matter of fact, so certain, one just had to believe it to be true. Drogan closed his hand around the lock of hair Annyaa had given him, feeling the softness of it between his fingers.

"You're wondering if it's wise to fall in love in such a time as this," Jarren observed.

"Is it that obvious?" Drogan asked.

"She's a good woman, I think," Jarren said. "Very frightened, and feeling very vulnerable, but I understand she's been through quite an ordeal. She reminds me of another woman. She's strong willed under normal circumstances, has some fire in her I would guess."

"She does," Drogan chuckled. "Annyaa throwing an empty flagon at Andorin, back in Misting Hill, is what started this whole ordeal for the two of us." He closed his fist tight around her hair. "She's stronger than she knows. So, what do you think? Is it wise?"

"I think you're a fool," Jarren answered. Drogan looked at The Hunter sharply, but held his tongue when he saw a small smile turn the man's lips. "But love will turn the wisest of men into blithering idiots. As for falling in love in such a time as this, the real question is— is there ever a time in one's life that falling in love is a wise decision? Probably not. Love isn't bound by circumstance. It can happen and will happen, whenever it happens whether we want it to or not. I would say it is foolish to allow yourself to fall in love in these days. Thinking about a loved one can get you killed when in a dangerous situation. But then, I would say you were a bigger fool if you didn't allow it. It can bring strength when you feel weak. It can give you something to live for when you feel you just want to give up and die."

"So tell me," Drogan smiled. "Has the legendary Jarren The Hunter ever been as foolish as I am then?"

"Oh, I'm beginning to think I may be the biggest fool of all." He looked over his shoulder at Kieran, sleeping soundly on her side on the cold ground. "I know nothing about her, we've barely spoken to one another, and our last conversation was in anger. You tell me, Drogan. What kind of fool am I?"

"Talk to her, Jarren. Get to know her. And if you allow yourselves to love, I'd call you the wisest of fools." They both laughed quietly, but then resumed their silence as they listened to the sounds of the Griffinwood. A couple hours passed, and they decided it was time to wake Faldrek and Arden for their turn at watch. They had just stood when Jarren stopped Drogan short with a hand on his shoulder. He put a hand up for silence and canted his head. And then they both heard the ghostly howl. It sent a shiver up Drogan's spine.

"What in the One God's name was that?" he asked.

"Walven," Jarren answered grimly. Three more howls from different locations, but all to their north, answered the first. "They're north of us."

"How close are they?"

"Two miles perhaps." They heard the howls again.

"Do you think they're coming this way?" Drogan asked. He had already drawn his sword.

"Not certain yet," Jarren answered. "Wake the others, just as a precaution." Jarren faced north glaring through the trees, listening intently as Drogan moved amongst their companions. Quietly, he woke each one, cautioning each to remain silent. Arden and Faldrek moved to the horses, intending to keep them calm.

"Tia?" Jarren asked. "What does the roa'an tell you?"

"They're coming this way," she answered.

"What should we do?" Kieran asked, visibly shaken by the terrible sounds. They howled again and Tia turned her head, her keen elven ears honing in on the sounds. She looked to Arden.

"They're definitely coming this way," he agreed. Already, he and Faldrek were having a hard time controlling the mounts, and Drogan moved to help them. Only the roa'an remained calm.

"We ride," Jarren said. "With hope we'll find a bridge. Tia, Arden, you should take the lead, you have the best eyes for it." Quickly they mounted and began traveling south along the canyon, the river still churned angrily below them on their left sides. They stayed close, with Arden and Tia leading them as quickly as they dared through the dark wood. Drogan and Faldrek took the rear, leading Marek and Kendrick's horses behind. The howls repeated, each time sounding nearer. The riders could feel the tension of their horses, and the horses could sense the tension of their riders. They all looked nervously over their shoulders with each call of the great beasts, expecting them to appear behind them at any moment.

"I'm afraid," Kieran said, pulling her horse alongside Jarren.

"Stay close to me," he replied. "Whatever happens, don't stray from the rest of us. Understood?"

"Yes," she answered. "I have no weapons."

"Hopefully you won't need one." He answered. Again and again, the howls sounded, and with each ghostly call, Arden and Tia seemed to speed up the pace. Drogan and Faldrek drew their blades.

"Now may be a good time to tell us what to expect from these things, Jarren." Drogan said.

"They're fast when they attack," Jarren said. "Stay away from their bite, and away from their fire— and they're very strong and very large."

"How large?" asked Faldrek.

"Larger than the horse you ride, Faldrek," Jarren answered. Faldrek and Drogan looked down at thier horses, and then at each other, and then over their shoulders. Faldrek's eyes grew wide.

"And mind their horns as well," Jarren added.

"Horns as well?" Faldrek asked. "I'm beginning to think I'd rather face down a dragon."

"I wouldn't recommend that either." Jarren said. The howls grew louder, and once more Tia and Arden hastened.

"They come." Silverprince sent his thoughts to Tia.

"I know, my roa'an." Tia turned back in her saddle. "They are very near," she said.

"Ride!" Jarren shouted, and Tia and Arden set their mounts to a full gallop. "Ride!" shouted Jarren again, urging everyone to follow the two elves. Drogan risked a backward glance and saw what looked like balls of flame dancing between the trees. He kicked his heels hard into his chargers flanks, following close behind the others. The horses thundered through the trees, the roa'an leapt and sprinted and danced, leading the way over and around obstacles. Over the drumming of their hooves could be heard the snarls and growls of the pursuing beasts as they plowed through the trees and vegetation. Their powerful legs drove them ever nearer the companions with every stride. Kieran bent low in her saddle and simply held on for dear life. She knew not if she was leading the horse, or the horse was simply running with the herd. She saw a hand on her reins— Jarren's hand as he rode along beside her. His reins were untouched as he held his sword in the other hand and led his horse with his legs. Drogan looked over his shoulder again at the walven. He could see shapes, massive wolf shaped shadows bounding through the trees, great puffs of fire escaping their throats with every breath. Four of them, he counted, and huge.

"We cannot outrun them!" Drogan shouted.

"Ride!" Jarren yelled.

"Bridge!" Tia and Arden shouted simultaneously.

"It's about time!" Faldrek screamed from the rear.

Tia and Arden hit the wooden planks of the bridge first. It was another rope bridge, wide enough to ride two abreast, and the two elves hurried to reach the other side as they quickly readied their bows. Jarren smacked the flat of his blade against the rear of Kieran's horse when they reached the bridge, sending her ahead. He turned to see Drogan and Faldrek leap off their own horses sending them and the two in tow galloping across the bridge, just as the first walven leapt for them. The two soldiers of Grey Home scrambled out of the way at the the end of the bridge as the great beast nearly bowled them over and into the river below.

"The bridge Jarren!" Drogan shouted. "The bridge!" He and Faldrek struggled to keep their distance as the beast swung it's great horns at them, and let loose a great burst of flame from it's jaws. Faldrek jumped to the side and slammed his sword into the creatures throat, and the flames exploded from the wound. Faldrek threw up his arms to protect himself from the fire, as Drogan thrust his sword into the beast's side. He shielded his face and jumped back as fire erupted from the wound. The other three walven reached them just as the first fell dead. Jarren turned and raced for the other side as arrows whistled by him from Tia and Arden's bows.

"Arden!" The Hunter shouted. "Be ready to cut the rope!" He leapt off his horse and stood by a post, ready with his sword. The arrows had slowed the remaining three walven, and Drogan and Faldrek sprinted across the bridge. The beasts hesitated only a short moment and then gave chase.

"Cut the ropes!" Drogan shouted as he ran. "Cut the cursed ropes!" Jarren and Arden hacked at the ropes with their blades— Drogan and Faldrek leapt— the ropes gave way and the bridge fell. They hit the other side hard. Faldrek nearly fell, but Jarren grabbed him by an arm and his belt and pulled him the rest of the way up. The three remaining walven gave one last ghostly howl as they fell to the river below. "Arden, I understand this is your homeland," Drogan said. "So please forgive me when I tell you I hate the bridges in the Griffinwood. They've given me nothing but trouble." Arden laughed as he helped Drogan to his feet.

"But if this bridge had not been here, Drogan," Arden countered. "What shape would we be in now?"

"Point taken." Drogan said.

"I took some bad burns to my arms, Drogan." Faldrek said as he inspected himself. He winced from the pain. "I'm going to need something for them."

"Let me take a look at them," Kieran said. She inspected his burns and started digging through a pouch at her belt. "I can make something. It will ease the pain and help the burns heal. I'm afraid there will be some scarring."

"They wouldn't be my first scars," Faldrek said. "I have many more."

"What were those things?" Kieran asked. Her voice trembled as she sat down and pulled a small wooden bowl and pestle. "And could someone bring me some water please?"

"Walven," Tia answered, as she handed her a water skin. "They were once friendly animals, intelligent like the roa'an. But at the time of Jandrous slaying they chose the side of Xandrous and were cursed by the One God. Now they are evil beasts, bent on destroying all those loyal to the son of the One God. They can smell the blood of Jandrous on those who follow him and will hunt them down relentlessly. They are savage creatures."

"I'm not sure if I should call the two of you very brave or very foolish," Jarren smiled at Faldrek and Drogan. "But holding them at the other side of the bridge, likely saved us all."

"I thought we had already made it clear that I, at least, am a fool." Drogan smiled. He then canted his head toward Kieran who was grinding a wet substance in her bowl. "As are you, Jarren." Jarren followed the young warrior's gaze and took a deep breath before moving to stand before Kieran.

"I want to apologize for how I spoke earlier, Kieran," The Hunter said. "I meant no disrespect toward Marek, or Kendrick whom I know is your friend." Kieran stopped grinding in her bowl and looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I still believe they were foolish for their actions," he continued. "And although I know Kendrick very little, I believe Marek is an honorable priest. I'm sure Kendrick is as well. That Runner left with them as opposed to warning me, speaks volumes. If I don't understand why they did as they did, I suppose I should at least trust the wolf's judgment. What happens to them is important to me. But I worry greatly, as well, of what may happen if we lose that blade." The tears were rolling freely down Kieran's face as she listened to Jarren. "I can be stern, and I can be a hard man, and like anyone, I can also allow foolish words to issue forth from my tongue when I am angry. Please forgive me, Kieran." He stood there waiting for her to speak, but when she said naught, he turned to leave her.

"Thank you," she whispered and he turned. "Forgive me as well." Jarren nodded to her and then walked away.

"Well, at least it's a start," Drogan said as Jarren came beside him. Together they began checking the legs and hooves of the mounts. They had been ridden hard, and they wanted to be certain they were not injured.

"I felt like a fool," Jarren said.

"You said it, not I." Drogan chuckled.

"What is this?" Kieran asked Tia, as the e'eld woman sat beside her and handed her a silvery colored moss. It was cool and soft to the touch.

"It's called silvermoss," she answered. "It grows in abundance here when it's damp and cool, and will greatly hasten the healing process." Kieran thanked her and Tia continued. "Are you alright?"

"I've never been so frightened in all my life," Kieran answered and brushed away her tears. "I was certain those things were going to catch us."

"They nearly did," Tia said. "But they failed." She smiled and placed a hand on Kieran's shoulder. "I was afraid as well."

"Ha!" Faldrek laughed. "I believe we were all frightened. Terrible beasts those. I pray I never come face to face with one again."

"Were you?" Kieran asked him as she began spreading her concoction on his arms.

"I think I heard myself scream like a girl child!" He exclaimed as Kieran put some of the silvermoss on his burns. "Those were creatures of the worst nightmares."

"You and Drogan were very brave, Faldrek." She smiled at him while wiping away more tears. She then found some clean white linens in her pack which she tore into long thin strips and began wrapping his arms. "Thank you both, for what you did." He nodded in return.

"Thank you, Kieran, for tending my burns." He smiled and then turned to join Jarren and Drogan.

"What of Jarren?" she asked Tia. "Do you think he too was afraid? He seemed so calm."

"Jarren—" The e'eld woman looked to her longtime friend. "I wonder. Sometimes I think he only fears what he might find in his sleep. His nightmares haunt him so. Things he has seen and done in his past come back to plague him in his dreams." She shook her head. "All men fear, I think. All people, man and woman, human or e'eld or dwarf. But the One God gives us the strength, I believe, to handle our fears. And for those we cannot, he helps us with."

Jarren decided they would rest where they were for the remainder of the night. Tia and Arden took the next watch, and the night was mercilessly uneventful. Arden spoke of the Griffinwood, and of being a prince, and how he began traveling with Drogan and Faldrek. Tia spoke of the Forever Lands, and being betrothed to Prince Lian, and the journey she and Jarren had begun along with Marek and how it had taken them to Ravenhold where they all met. Arden had met Lian once, when he traveled to the Forever Lands to talk trade with the e'eld there. He told Tia that he believed Lian to be an honorable man and wished her well in her betrothal to him. After a while they grew silent and simply listened to the sounds of the night. But Jarren became restless in his sleep, and began mumbling and tossing about, speaking of some battle he had fought sometime long ago as though he were reliving it. She had risen to go to him, to soothe him as she often did in his nightmares, but stopped when she saw Kieran wake from her sleep and crawl toward him. She knew from experiance that Jarren could unintentionally be dangerous when waking from his dreams, so she watched closely, ready to move if such an event occurred.

"Shhh," Kieran hushed quietly and calmly in Jarren's ear. She placed a hand gently on Jarren's chest and spoke quietly to him. "Hush now, Jarren," she whispered. "It's Kieran. You are only dreaming. You sleep now along with Drogan, and Faldrek. Tia and Arden stand watch. Jarren's breathing slowed, and his movements calmed. "Hush now," the healer repeated. Soon he grew quiet, and appeared to be sleeping soundly once more. Kieran began to crawl back to where she was sleeping, but after second thought, remained nearby Jarren. She fell asleep again shortly after. Tia smiled and silently moved to cover Kieran with her blanket before returning to Arden.

"It appears it may be Kieran's duty to soothe Jarren's sleep now," Tia said. "I've never seen him calm so quickly."

Over the next several days they traveled along the river heading south. On one occasion they were met by a patrol of Griffinwood elves, and Prince Arden informed them of both the Skraeg moving within the forest and of the walven they encountered.

"We know of the skraeg, my prince, and are already preparing counter offensives against them," a captain told him. "Some of our patrols reported hearing strange howling at night, but they ended a few nights past.

"The walven were dropped into the river when they attacked us upon a bridge," Arden informed him. "Those walven, at least, will howl no more." He told them they searched for two priests traveling with a Forever Lands wolf, one of them wearing leather armor, and that they believed they may have met with a griffin rider.

"Yes, my prince," the captain nodded. "They travel with Hardis. We gave them mounts so the priests could ride. They travel to E'eldaduranus."

"Any skraeg between here and there?" Arden asked.

"No, my prince. You left them all behind you to the north. They are simply gathering as of now."

"Thank you captain," Arden said and then turned to the others. "Well, we know where they're going."

"Then to Elven Home we follow," Jarren said turning to Drogan. "Will you go on in your search of this Andorin?"

"No," Drogan said after a moment. "I see no chance of finding him now. It has been too long, and he could be anywhere. I'm afraid he's lost to us for now."

"What of Ravenhold?" Arden turned back to the captain. "Are these skraeg the same that attacked there?"

"No," the captain answered. "These are more that have been arriving since. Where you there?"

"Yes. And after the battle we were with the survivors traveling the pass to Rosenguarde. Then when the two priests left, we followed them here."

"Well they will not be going to Rosenguarde. It is under seige." The captain shook his head.

"What?" Drogan nearly shouted. "They could be in danger if they are discovered!"

"They already know," the captain informed them. "They are being led through the Griffinwood, where they too will find refuge in E'eldaduranus. I assure you they are well protected, and no skraeg are nearby. Our griffin riders are keeping a close eye, as well as scouts in the forests. The Skraeg appear to think we don't know they are coming. They will be greatly surprised." He then turned once more to his prince. "Your presence will be needed in E'eldaduranus, my prince."

"I understand," Arden said. "Are you keeping in contact with any griffin riders, captain?"

"Yes, we are all aware of other patrol's movements, and I myself am visited by a griffin rider at least three times each day."

"Good, send a message to the city that I am on my way."

"And Grey Home," Drogan asked. "What goes on there?"

"Grey Home holds strong, last I heard" the captain replied. "They are reinforced with Griffinwood e'eld as well as an adequate force of Haira'hem. As well, I believe the enemy may have underestimated the strength of that walled city. In my opinion, unless greatly reinforced, they will not take it. But if by chance Grey Home falls, she will not fall easily."

"Grey Home has never fallen," Faldrek proudly agreed.

"We heard people from Seaport and Misting Hill were being escorted there." Drogan said.

"Yes," the captain nodded. "The majority of them made it safely to Grey Home." They thanked the captain before leaving the elven patrol and rode south, with new questions amongst themselves and each other, and with more worries. The war had escalated so quickly, and with so little warning, and already it was a war on multiple fronts. They also knew a larger force was coming from the east, from the Shadow Lands, that threatened to cover all of Isandros like a great shadow.

***************************************************

Belkarus smiled beneath his black dragon winged helm, his face hidden behind the fanged skull. The Valley of Dragons was on his left as his horde snaked past toward Durgin's Pass. Once, long ago, a great battle was fought in that valley, and Jandrous was slain. He could almost hear the sounds of battle, could almost envision the great struggle that occurred between the opposing armies. He was certain he could almost smell the blood. "Soon," he thought to himself. "Soon, I will control all the lands that swear allegiance to Jandrous and the One God. I will destroy all those who make war against me, and I will enslave all those too weak to take up a sword themselves. The white dragons will become extinct, and the blacks will soar the skies as my eyes on the fools below. Nothing will escape my notice, and all who oppose me, and all who oppose Xandrous will die." He turned his gaze to the red robed priests riding in the column behind. "The reds will see the day their white robed adversaries are burned on stakes and reduced to ashes and bones. They will have a temple to Xandrous built from those very bones! Xandrous himself will make me his iron hand for eternity, to rule all of Isandros in his name. All power will be mine!" He laughed aloud at the sky above. "Yes, One God. Once your followers are dead and enslaved you will have no power! And Xandrous and the underworld will ride into the heavens to take your throne. And I, One God, yes I— will be the one to take your very head from your shoulders!" He shook with excitement, and gripped the walven's reins tightly in his black gloved fists. He wanted to ride as hard as he could straight to the enemy and battle thier armies all by himself if he had to. He nearly felt powerful enough to do it.

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Lian'asuran stood at the rivers edge. E'ldfellen, Elf Fall in the common tongue, where so many elves had lost their lives protecting their homes in the Forever Lands throughout history. The river was beautiful, crisp clear water, sweet to taste, and the stars in the night sky reflected wonderfully off its surface. To his left and to his right and behind him were his border guard, as well as dwarves come down from the mountains to help— finally. Short and stout, with long thick beards and armored in chain mail, they carried heavy axes and hammers— some as tall and wide as their carriers. Although a few preferred spear or sword. Despite their short size, Lian knew them to be very powerful warriors— nearly as devastating in battle as the taurians. Some, perhaps, were even more so. Other elven soldiers had joined their ranks as well. "Not enough," he thought. "But perhaps we can hold them until more arrive." He knew more would be coming, but had they enough time to assemble? This invasion was a surprise. "My people are strong," he knew. "The dwarves are strong as well." He erased all doubt from his mind. Doubt, he knew, would cause them to lose even before the battle began. He smiled despite his worries. "We will hold the enemy here." He knew they were coming. This enemy force was determined to catch them and destroy them. They had called a halt every night, to make camp and rest. But this night was different. Lian's scouts told him they made no sign of calling a halt this time. The elves had made the Taurians very angry with their elusive attack and run tactics. The elves and dwarves would use that anger against them.

The first of the taurians burst through the tree line and charged toward the river on the other side yelling thier battle cries. Lian raised his right hand, and when he let it drop, arrows took flight. Again and again the border guard loosed their bows, felling taurians by the dozens. There was a shallow to the river stretching just twenty yards, and taurians that ran across there were only knee deep in the water. However, to both sides of the shallow, those taurians unlucky enough to enter the river were forced to attempt swimming across. It was in the shallow that the dwarves rushed in against the enemy, taking the taurians head on, and laying waste to those caught in the deep. As their shorter and stronger allies hammered and cleaved and speared the bull headed beasts, the elves rained death upon them with thier bows. They were slowing the enemy down, but because of sheer numbers it would only be a short matter of time before elves and dwarves were finally overwhelmed. It was when the fighting was beginning to grow heavy on their side of the river that Lian nearly gave the order to retreat. But something was happening at the rear of the enemy force. Some of the attacking taurians were turning around, and there appeared to be some confusion near the tree line. Another taurian army burst through the trees, attacking their own. But there was something different about them. "Their horns!" Lian eyes grew wide. "They've painted their horns!"

"Mind the white horns!" Lian shouted the command. "Do not attack the white horns!" He couldn't believe his eyes, The taurians were suddenly trapped between the elves and dwarves on one side of the river, and another force of their own kind behind them. The battle was long and bloody, but the tide had turned in their favor and when the battle was over, scores of taurians were slain. There were casualties among the dwarves and elves as well, but the enemy taurians bore the worst of it. Surviving taurians were already being chained hand and foot by the white horns, even before their general walked casually across the shallows to meet Lian. He came to stand before the elven prince and beat a fist against his huge chest in salute. He wore a kilt like skirt of thich leather hides, reinforced with chain enameled in gold and silver, and over his chest he wore a thick leather breast plate. He bore a scar traveling from above his right eye to his jaw, and his huge arms were covered in more. He had a grim look about him, even for a taurian, and his eyes were shot with red veins. He looked fierce, and deadly.

"Well met, e'eld prince," the tuarian spoke in a heavy, deep voice. "I hope you will forgive our intrusion."

"Well met," Lian nodded and saluted in kind. "We knew not of your coming. But under the circumstances, I would say you are very welcome here."

"These fools whom invaded your lands acted outside the wishes of our council, and will pay dearly for what they have done," the taurian general said. He raised a big bloody axe. "Their general already has." He looked at the sky above. "Do you know what the missing stars mean?" Lian nodded, informing the general he did know. "We believe," the general continued. "Long Winter is upon us. For too long the Taurians have been divided between those that follow Jandrous, and those that follow Xandrous. Most of us have recently chosen the former— we know prophecy fulfilled when we see it. When our common enemy massed to invade you, we had little warning. They were already sailing here, when I was given the order to amass my own force and follow."

"Well you arrived just in time," Lian said.

"My name is Turohk, High General of the newly united Taurian Army."

"I am Prince Lian'asuran," Lian said.

"I know who you are Prince Lian," Turohk said. "Your border guard is legendary even among us. Perhaps we will never call each other enemy again. Do your people know what goes on in the east?" Lian nodded. He had heard the rumors of wars. "I believe I should meet with your King, Prince Lian'asuran. We have much to discuss."

"I would be pleased to escort you there personally, Turohk." Lian reached out a hand to shake, and the taurian general looked long at it before what almost seemed like a smile spread across his bull like face, and then took the hand in a strong grip.

"Let this be the beginning of a long friendship between our people, Prince Lian'asuran."

********************************************************

Another huge stone slammed into the wall below King Erehk. There was a boom like thunder, and the sound of stone on stone, and dust and debris flew over the wall causing the king to stoop low and shield his eyes. Carefully he peered over the wall. He could see where the stone struck, but there was no visual damage other than cosmetic. He raised to his full height and placed his hands next to his cheeks so his voice would carry.

"Rosenguarde's walls are thicker than your skulls, you cursed Skraeg!" He yelled. The men on the walls beside and behind him raised their fists and a gave a triumphant shout. The skraeg below gave an an angry shout in answer and soon another stone was hurtled into the sky by a seige engine. For days the enemy had been building thier catapults, and the stones being lofted at the walls came from the first to be completed. Erehk smiled. The catapults would have to be moved closer to cause any real damage, and then the skraeg would be in range of their own defensive siege engines. He wondered how long it would take the skraeg to make that decision. The white dragon that had visited them before had arrived once more bringing word that help from Flame Wind, a city to the west, was on its way. Erehk only hoped they would arrive in time. Until then, all he could do was protect his capital city and her inhabitants as best as he could. He had strong walls, and strong soldiers, and he knew his people were strong as well. But how long could they remain strong? "As long as it takes," he thought. "What other choice do they have?" He looked long at the army of skraeg. Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to to ride out of the gates with his soldiers behind him in full force and battle them face to face. But out on the field, he and his men would have been grossly outnumbered. Against an army of men, he had enough confidence in his soldiers, that they could do just that and prevail. But outnumbered against an army of skraeg, they would be torn apart. "Jarren my old friend, I hope and pray you're safe. I hope and pray that the sword is safe." Even if Rosenguarde fell, he knew, even if all of Erinor and all of the surrounding kingdoms fell— even if all of Isandros fell, as long as that sword remained free of enemy hands and landed safely in the hands of Jandrous, there was hope.



©Anthony David Rosenthal/To The Valley Of Dragons 2010

Chapter 17: You Will Be Given Fire

Marek walked alongside Jarren, surrounded by a mass of people carrying what little belongings they had time to gather before fleeing Ravenhold. Although some had small carts and wagons being pulled by horse or oxen, most only carried what they could fit in their arms or on their backs. Those with livestock drove their sheep, goats, horses, and cattle amidst the crowd, hoping that all would make it safely to Rosenguarde, but knowing all to well that many would succumb to the elements or become food for the masses. Marek knew that Jarren possessed the Sword of Jandrous and knew in his heart that the sword had to somehow find its way into the hands of Jandrous at the Valley of Dragons, but instead of the weapon making its way east, they were now taking it the opposite direction toward Rosenguarde. They must find Jandrous. They must get the sword into his hands! He studied the tall man walking beside him, the sword wrapped and slung across his back once more.

"Jarren, can we talk?" he asked.

"Of course, Marek." Jarren looked down at the priest. "What is it?" But Marek looked around at the crowds surrounding him, not wanting other ears to hear the conversation about to begin.

"In private." he said. So Jarren led them away from the crowds and when he was pleased with their location, far enough away from the people as they filed through the pass, he stopped.

"I know what it is you carry, Jarren." The Hunter said nothing. "I fell when I was running and the sword came unwrapped. It bled though it had shed no blood. There is no mistaking what it is."

"And?" The Hunter raised a brow expecting more.

"Well," Marek took a deep breath, to steady himself under the man's stare. "Shouldn't we be taking the sword east?"

"East?"

"Well yes, Jarren. Jandrous must have the sword at the Valley of Dragons."

"No." Jarren said in a matter of fact tone as though the conversation was already decided.

"But—"

"I've been entrusted the sword, to protect it and keep it safe until we can find him. East is an army of Skraeg we just barely escaped from."

"And how are we to find him if we run all the way back to Rosenguarde?" Marek had begun to raise his voice, as did Jarren.

"East right now is suicide, Marek! How can Jandrous get the sword if we die, and the sword is taken by skraeg?"

"I don't know Jarren, but shouldn't we try to locate him?"

"How can we locate him if he knows not himself whom he is? The conversation is over Marek! Do not question me again on the subject. The sword stays with me, and I return to Rosenguarde."

"Jarren please, do you not understand the importance of finding—"

"Enough Marek!" The Hunter shouted, and turned on his heels to walk away. Marek watched him go, a feeling of defeat and hopelessness in his stomach. He decided he would let Jarren be for the remainder of the day, and perhaps bring the conversation up again after dusk, after the man had time to think on the matter himself and calm down. He turned to watch the line of refugees filing past and his eyes met those of Kendrick's, the younger priest he had recently met upon entering Ravenhold. The young man stood a moment watching and then turned and walked with the others. Marek wondered if the young priest had heard the conversation. It seemed unlikely, but they had raised their voices. "Wonderful," he thought. "I best find out before he starts talking to someone else." He hurried to catch up with the young man.

"Is it true?" Kendrick asked the very moment Marek came beside him. The younger priest had overheard after all.

"No one must know," Marek sighed.

"It's going the wrong way."

"I know that." Marek shook his head. "I will talk to him again tonight. Perhaps after he's thought on it for a while he will listen."

"And what if he does not?"

"I—" Marek had no answer. "I don't know. Tell no one else what you know. Please." The younger priest hesitated, but then nodded his head. When Marek walked ahead, Kendrick thought of the drayan, who had visited him the night before. The sword was very close, Gaulin had said.

"It was practically right under my nose the whole time we were in Ravenhold!" he exclaimed to himself. He looked upward toward the sky as though he could see the One God's face. "Really?" he asked. "Alright, now what am I supposed to do?" But he already knew the answer to his own question. He would have to take it. Jarren, it seemed, was unlikely going to turn around and Kendrick had been given the mission by a drayan acting on the One God's orders. But how was he going to take it? He hoped what he was to do was not stealing. The sword had been entrusted to Jarren, but then it did not really belong to anyone, except perhaps Jandrous himself. So was he simply recovering it to return to its rightful owner? "Well, it seems my travels just keep getting more and more interesting. What else are you going to throw at me?" He felt the last question was answered as the temperatures warmed during the day and dark clouds brought the promise of rain. It was cold still, but a welcome relief from the frigid temperatures they had endured recently. Kendrick knew the Long Winter continued however, as did the other priests, who assured the crowds that this was simply a lull in the weather. With a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder, the skies opened up, and Kendrick once again found himself, along with the thousands of others, slogging through mud instead of snow, and drenched from the cold rains. The relief turned to more misery, as Kendrick had just about had it with getting rained on, and caught in blizzards, and attacked by bandits, and all that had happened leading up to his current flight from Ravenhold after the Skraeg attack.

When night fell, a halt was called and the people made camp in small groups, finding what little shelter they could from the rain under wagons or simply trying to cover thier heads with cloaks or blankets. Kendrick was walked among them trying to locate Jarren and the sword when he heard Donnagan call to him.

"Kendrick come here," he said. "You must see this." The young priest turned at the familiar voice and found the old man along with High Priest Greandor. Jarren, Tia, Kieran, and all the others he had recently met were all there, huddled together as Callum, the High Priest of Ravenhold knelt before a small stack of wood.

"Call upon your faith in my name for fire, and you will be given fire, the Teachings tell us," Callum said as Kendrick drew near. "It says just before this that our faith will become a great weapon. I take this to be literal, and aside from being a weapon, fire can be a great tool as well." The middle aged priest bowed his head for a moment and placed his hands together palm up as though he were holding something within them, and suddenly a glow began, small at first, but growing until it was about the size of a chicken's egg. It was fire! But it appeared almost solid, and looked almost like a glass globe with flames dancing within. Slowly he put his hands down and dropped the egg shaped flame onto the wood where it burst into a very pleasing fire.

"What sorcery is this?" Broan exclaimed, the big man taking several steps back, eyes wide.

"For such a big man, you certainly frighten easily." Callum chuckled. "It's not sorcery at all," he said as he looked at those around him. Some of them stepped back as wide eyed as Broan. The others looked on suspiciously or in amazement. "I simply asked the One God to grant me fire and he did. Any one with enough faith can do the same."

"Quickly," Greandor said. "Gather all the priests together. They must all see this for themselves and attempt it as well."

"Might I try?" Kendrick asked.

"By all means do!" Callum answered him with a smile. He stomped the fire out and stood back so Kendrick could kneel in front of the wood. Kendrick dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

"Ask for fire in my name, and you shall be given fire," the young priest quoted the Teachings. "One God," he asked silently. "Grant me fire to warm my friends." He held out his hands and felt a warmth above them. And there, the glowing egg shape appeared, flames dancing within, and he placed it before him into the wood. And he laughed with joy as the flames engulfed the wood, lighting the darkness and warming away the chill. "This is wonderful!" He shouted. "Of course it would have helped if I'd tried it sooner, when I nearly died in a blizzard, or the countless times it seems I've been caught in bad weather!"

"Well now you have the weapon you need to battle away the darkness and the cold next time you find yourself in a bad situation," Donnagan laughed and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"Yes, I suppose you're right Donnagan." Kendrick smiled at his old high priest. All then turned at a grunt from Jarren and he pointed. All eyes found Marek, standing far enough away so as not to harm anyone, he practiced sword techniques he had learned from The Hunter. He spun his sword through the air in front, to his side, and behind him. And as it spun it burned, flames engulfing the whole of the blade, tongues of fire jumping away to dance in the air for a moment before fading away. Many in the crowds watched as he spun the blade, thrust, and blocked against an imaginary foe. People began to whisper amongst each other of this man with the flaming sword.

"I hear his name is Marek," said one.

"A warrior priest," said another.

"Trained by Jarren The Hunter himself!" Exclaimed another.

"Marek. Marek Flame Wielder." Yet another said. And this was repeated by others as more and more watched and heard.

"Marek Flame Wielder," was repeated again and again.

"And so is born another legend," Tia said softly.

"Another who will prefer not to be known as one," said Jarren. "Like me, I'm certain he will see the status to be thrust upon him as more of a curse than a blessing."

"Is it so badly a curse?" Kieran looked up at the tall man.

"Even more so than mine," Jarren answered. "He is a priest, and will explain that the power comes from the One God, not himself. He will explain that it was Jarren that taught him to fight, that it was no skill came about on his own. Many will still tell tales, many that are simply from their own imaginations. Enemies will begin to hear these tales, and will want to challenge him personally. And he still has much to learn about combat. He has the curse of becoming a legend while he is still green. I do not envy him."

"Nor do I," Drogan agreed, and Faldrek nearby nodded his head as well. And Marek spun and moved, and fought against his imaginary foe with a sword of fire, tracers of light following the path of the burning blade as shadow enemies jumped and dodged and fled the sharp edge of light.


The rain had ceased and a heavy fog filled the pass as most camped within slept. Other than soldiers standing guard, very few stirred, most of the refugees of Ravenhold exhausted from their ordeal. The rain had ceased, and campfires, many the work of priests, kept most people warm. Kendrick watched the rise and fall of Jarren's chest as he slept. He and the others were sound asleep, even the big Forever Lands wolf slept. Slowly, the young priest moved aside his blanket and crept silently until he knelt before Jarren. Next to the tall warrior was the wrapped sword. Taking a deep breath to steady his shaking hand, he reached to touch it, only to stop frozen at the low growl that rose in Runner's throat.

"Shhhhh friend," he whispered pleadingly to the great wolf. "Please understand what I do is for the best. Please understand." He slowly reached again, watching Runner warily who whined but otherwise remained silent. A moment later he had the sword in his hand and slowly stood. He turned toward the wolf once more as he walked away.

"Thank you," he whispered once more before silently sneaking away. Runner watched as the young priest melted into the heavy fog and disappeared. But not only the wolf watched him go. Marek also watched as Kendrick walked away, and after a moment he followed, as again the wolf whined but otherwise remained silent while looking at Jarren and back again in the direction of the two priests as they left.

Kendrick found sneaking past the posted guard surprisingly easy in the heavy fog, and was soon climbing up a shallow embankment out of the pass and into the Griffinwood. In the darkness of the overcast night, footing was treacherous so he slowly made his way deeper into the trees, careful of every step, until he decided he was far enough away from possible detection to risk light. As he had done earlier, he asked for fire, and held the flame in one hand above his head like a torch.

"I hope you know what you're doing." The sudden voice behind him caused Kendrick's heart to jump in his throat and he nearly cried out. Turning around quickly in his fright, he came face to face with Marek.

"I haven't the slightest idea what I'm doing to be honest." Kendrick was afraid he was caught, and his mission over before it even began. "I suppose you're here to take the sword and myself back?" His heart sank.

"Actually," Marek smiled. "I'm here to tell you you're a fool for not taking any supplies with you." He showed Kendrick a pack he carried. "And I'm coming with you." He walked into the shadows behind him and emerged a moment later leading two horses. One was the familiar grey that Donnagan had lent Kendrick at the beginning of his journey. "You wouldn't have gotten far on foot. Jarren will be after us as soon as he discovers what what we've done. And if we're leaving we need to get as far away from here as possible before he wakes."

"How did you get the horses past the guards?" Kendrick asked.

"Well, it was a bit tricky, but this fog helped. I thought I was caught a few times to be honest. Now, let's go." Marek mounted and waited for Kendrick to do the same. "Well, you're the one with the light right now," he said. "Lead on."

"Thank you, brother." Kendrick mounted his horse and began riding east, with Marek following close behind.

"We should ride south, I think, for the night Kendrick, before heading east," Marek cautioned. "We don't want to risk finding any skraeg. I'm sure they'll be about as we get closer to Ravenhold." Kendrick agreed and began leading in a more southerly direction.

"Do you think Jarren will be angry?" Kendrick asked.

"Do you really need to ask that question?" Marek answered.

"Good point."

"Forgive me Jarren," Marek said quietly. "I feel I have no choice."


Jarren wondered if he was dreaming. Something just seemed 'unreal' to him. He walked alone through the thick undergrowth of a forest, a full moon above caused the thick fog to glow a ghostly silver, the shadows of the trees around him seemed to dance a strange hypnotic waltz, beckoning him to join them in the darkness. He was looking for— something. What was it? What was he missing? He ran his hands over his body, patting himself down. He had his armor, his cloak. There was his knife at his waist, and his bow across his back. His quiver of arrows was there, as well as his sword and sword belt. He had his boots, his gloves— nothing seemed to be missing. He shook his head trying to clear it, trying to remember what else he might have had before but was no longer in his possession. He continued walking, searching the shadows for the missing something, sure that if he rested eyes on it he'd then remember what it was. He stopped suddenly.

"Thought I heard something," he said to himself. He listened but there was no sound. "Just my imagination— wait a moment. What am I thinking? I always trust my instincts. Why am I not now? I must have heard something." But after stopping and listening for some time, he heard nothing more. He shrugged his shoulders and continued walking. He looked above for a moment, to the stars, to find the Eye of the Sailor so he'd know his direction but the fog was just too thick. Not even a sparkle of one solitary star caught his eye. But there were other ways to to travel a forest in the dark with no starlight and know his direction and he used them all. There was no direction— it seemed, strangely enough. And the moon was directly above his head. "Where am I? I must be dreaming. Yet everything seems so real." He shook his head. "Alright now where did it go?" Where did what go? "What in blazes was I looking for?" A shadow, silent and large, caught his eye as he glanced over his right shoulder. "Runner?" he asked the darkness. Where was Runner? "That's strange— I must have sent him off. That is probably him over there. Runner, come here," he said. But the shadow came no closer. It was as though it simply kept pace with Jarren as he walked. A torch appeared near the shadow— two torches— but an eerie green were the flames. He stopped, slowly drawing his bow as he knelt in the shadows of the trees. Something was wrong. He could feel it. "Runner!"he whispered urgently. The shadow stopped, the torches stopped. Jarren's breathing stopped as he drew his bow full, the arrow fletchings near his right ear. The shadow and flames burst out of the trees right at him, and he instinctively let the arrow fly. The beast did not slow and bore down on him. Before he could move he was knocked hard to ground and rolled over to his stomach. He felt a massive paw on his back holding him down and could not move. The beast was too heavy. He felt flames on his back as the creature sniffed at him, and just as he was certain he would be torn to shreds the beast raised its canine muzzle as another scent caught in its smoking nostrils. It let out a great howl and burst away into the trees once more. Jarren rose unsteadily to his feet, and slowly turned around. There, another beast stood before him and pounced—

Jarren woke with a shout, sitting straight up and jumping to his feet, franticly reaching for his sword, and felt a soft touch on his shoulder.

"Steady, Jarren." He recognized the voice and calmed. "What was it this time?"

"It was different from the other dreams, Tia." He said as he slowly sat down. "The others were memories. This was something new."

"What did you see?"

"Walven," he whispered. He then told her about the dream, and how he had first mistaken the first walven for Runner. "I called out to him, but was greeted by a beast instead." He glanced to where the big wolf had been sleeping. "Where is Runner?"

"I don't know, Jarren. He never leaves your side." She eyed their surroundings, and then back at those sleeping. "Marek is gone as well— as is the young priest Kendrick."

"Runner!" Jarren stood and called. He felt his heart in his throat. "Runner!" he called again but the wolf did not come running. Quickly he moved to his bedroll, throwing it aside, and flinging the other's belongings aside as well as they were waking up from his shouts.

"Jarren, what is it?" Tia asked. "Jarren," she said again when he walked away for a moment not answering.

"They took it." He looked east. "They took it and Runner followed."

"Took what?" Tia asked, concerned.

"The sword." He shook his head.

"Your sword is right by where you slept, Jarren." Tia looked puzzled.

"The other sword, Tia. The one I couldn't talk about. That's what they took."

"They must be around here somewhere," Tia said looking around once more. "Come, Jarren. Let's go and find them."

"No, they're gone. They've gone east." Jarren rose again and gritted his teeth as he paced back and forth, clearly agitated. "I have to go after them. And Runner! I can't believe he went with them!"

"Runner has never left your side Jarren," Tia said as she put a hand on The Hunter's shoulder. "If he left with them, where ever they may have gone, he must have felt he had reason. What was it they took, Jarren. What is this burden you have been carrying but not willing to talk about?" He looked at her fiercely, as though ready to rage. The anger was clearly evident in his eyes and his jaw as he clenched his teeth. His body was so taught as though it could explode in an instant. And then he calmed, took a deep breath as he forced himself to relax, and bowed his head as though defeated, sinking then to his knees.

"I'm sorry, Erehk." Jarren whispered. "The sword," he continued louder. "The very sword that slew him."

"The sword that slew whom?" Tia asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Jandrous." Jarren whispered. All those within their camp let out a gasp. Drogan was there with Faldrek. There was Broan and his men along with Durinald, and Kieran. Drogan, Faldrek, and Annyaa sat close together. Donnagan stood shaking his head, as the e'eld prince Arden stood nearby as well. All of them were in a state of shock. Not one uttered a sound. It was Donnagan who finally broke the silence.

"Kendrick is out there somewhere with the Sword of Jandrous?" He sat down, and put his face in his hands in disbelief. "Are you certain?"

"I'm certain, priest," Jarren answered. "And I intend to go after them. Now."

"But how did this happen?" Faldrek asked. "How did you come into possession of such a thing?"

"How I came by it, is of no matter right now," Jarren answered. "What matters is that two foolish priests— and the wolf, have taken it upon themselves, despite my being charged to protect it, to sneak out like thieves in the middle of the night to take it east toward the Valley of Dragons! Marek and I argued about it after he discovered it. He believed we should be heading east and trying to find Jandrous, while I intended to keep it safe for the time being while taking it back to Rosenguarde. It appears he found an ally in the young priest Kendrick."

"What do you intend to do?" Drogan then asked.

"I intend to intercept them before the two fools get themselves killed and the sword into enemy hands."

"They're heading right back toward the enemy we fled," Drogan said. "You'll need a few more swords with you." Annyaa gripped his arm tightly.

"I would welcome the help, Drogan."

"They would have had to go into the Griffinwood," Arden explained. "That is my homeland, and I know it well. Also, in the event we may find Drogan's quarry, I have already made it my mission to help him. Where he goes, I go as well."

"I'm going as well," Kieran stated.

"You're no soldier, Kieran." Broan protested.

"They may need a good healer, and I'm a good healer, Broan." She put her hands on her hips as she stared up at the big bearded man. "Besides, you know full well, I've seen my fair share of danger in all the time I've spent traveling the rivers with you on your merchant boat. And someone's going to have to patch up that fool head of Kendrick's when he gets it cracked again! If they'll have me, I'm going." Jarren looked at Tia who nodded her head.

"You may come, healer," Jarren said. "I'd like to have you along as well, Broan, along with your men. But I'm afraid we'd be better off with the few than with more."

"Just keep her safe." Broan said.

"I cannot promise that, but I will do my best."

"I believe you'll do all you can," Broan nodded before placing a comforting hand on Kieran's shoulder. "Be careful. I'm going to need you on my boat when I get a new one."

"I will, Broan," she promised.

"Will you keep Annyaa safe for me, Broan?" Drogan then asked. "I know we've only recently met, and though I don't know you well, I feel I should trust you. I intend to get her home safely to her father— but I'm afraid Misting Hill is now gone. Never the less, I still mean to return her to him. I'd like you to keep her safe and help her if I don't make it back." There was something else in Drogan's eyes other than a sense of duty. And Broan, knew it when he saw it. The big man nodded.

"You have my word on it," he said.

"No, Drogan." Annya gripped his arm as though if she were to let go, he'd fall away from her forever. Her beautiful green eyes were pleading, and longing and he had to look away for a moment. He felt as though his heart would sink. He did not want to leave her any more than she wanted him to go. "I'm afraid I won't see you again, and I was afraid I'd never see anyone again while I was being held captive!"

"I'm sorry," he said as he turned to look at her again. "I feel I should help them. And Andorin's still out there, as well— somewhere." I intend to bring him to justice as well. And if there is the slightest chance I can find him, I will bring him to stand for his crimes."

"He is probably long gone, Drogan!" She raised her voice. "What are the odds that you will find him? And does it even matter anymore?"

"Of course is matters, Annyaa." He gripped her shoulders. "He killed for no other reason than to kill. That alone, and what he did in Misting Hill, and to you, must be paid for."

"You're not a soldier anymore, Drogan! You need not do this anymore! You wanted to leave that life behind you!" The tears began to fall freely from her eyes, and Drogan touched her face to wipe them away. He touched her chin, to raise her eyes to his. Those eyes made his heart jump whenever he beheld them now, and he himself had to fight back the tears. His voice choked as he spoke to her.

"I'm afraid we all must be something we would rather not right now, Annyaa. I have been a soldier, and I am a soldier now. We are in a time when swords are needed. I must be a sword now."

"But that doesn't mean you have to go charging right into the heart of the enemy!"

"I am certain we will do all we can to avoid the enemy," Drogan assured her.

"You may be all I'll ever have left from home— " she buried her face in his chest. He looked down at her brown hair, and wanted so desperately to tell her he had fallen in love with her. But what his heart felt, he could not make his heart speak.

"I'll come back to you," he made her look at him again. "No matter what happens, stay alive. I'll come back for you, I— I promise." But was it wise to promise such a thing, he wondered. He would have to do everything in his power to keep his word. He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her tightly. He wished he could hold onto her like that forever as she melted into him. He finally forced himself to step back, and along with the others, began gathering all he would take with him.

As the newly formed company walked away to gather their mounts before leaving, Drogan stopped and turned for one more glance toward Annyaa and waved. She wiped the tears from her face, wanting to appear strong for him, and smiled and waved back. When Drogan turned awary once more, she felt a big hand on her shoulder. When she turned she saw Broan. The big man smiled down at her, and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"I saw Drogan fighting during the skraeg attack," he said. "He can take care of himself quite well. And he has others with him who are more than capable of protecting each other."

"Why must he go?" she asked. "Oh what does it matter? He likely thinks of me as a foolish girl, crying all the time." This brought a chuckle from the big man. "Why is that funny?"

"He loves you."

"Oh he couldn't possibly. I think I'm a fool for falling in love with him!"

"I've seen it enough times in my life to recognize it," he countered. "He loves you, deeply."

"He speaks the truth," Donnagan said. "I'm an old man, and I know it when I see it as well. He feels as deeply for you as you do of him."

"I must tell him to come back then!" She almost shouted. "Oh what can I do? His mind is made up!"

"You can pray for him," the old priest said. "And you should. In fact we should pray for all of them, and for Kendrick and Marek as well." Annyaa watched as they walked away, and then suddenly turned.

"Someone give me a knife!" she said. "Quickly now!"

"What is it you intend?" Broan asked.

"Something for him to remember me by!" she exclaimed. "Please— quickly now!" The big man took a knife from his belt and handed it to her. She grabbed a handful of hair, and took the knife to it. After cutting it, she asked Donnagan to hold one end, and she quickly braided it, then tore two thin strips off her dress to bind both ends. And then she ran. She ran as hard as she had ever run in her life, hoping to catch Drogan before they rode away. She shouted his name just as he mounted his horse, and when he saw her running he asked the others to wait just a moment more. When Annyaa reached him she grabbed his hand and placed the braid into it, closing his fingers into a fist.

"Don't you dare lose that now," she said. "I don't go cutting my hair like that for just anyone."

"I won't lose it," Drogan said. "And, thank you." He reached down and placed his hand on her head and lifted her hair, easily noticing where she had cut it with seemingly no regard of what it would do to her appearance. "I will cherish this, Annyaa." He knew not what else to say, and mercifully, Annyaa turned and walked away. When the others rode off, he waited a moment, looking at the soft braid of brown hair, and then tore a strip of leather from a pack on his saddle and tied it to one end of the braid to make a cord to wear around his neck. After placing it over his head, he turned the big black charger and spurred it to catch the others.

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Of the three hundred that made up the E'eldradin Border Guard, not many over two hundred were left. When they attacked the advancing taurians, they came out of the trees like ghosts, riding silently out of the shadows and along the enemy flanks. After dealing death with arrow and spear, they would disappear back into the trees as silently as they appeared, causing confusion and anger amongst the Taurian ranks. But as quick as the attacks were dealt, the Border Guard were not without their own losses. This kind of fighting and fleeing went on for days, and Lian'asuran was desperate for reinforcements while slowing down their foe. He knew they were coming, but within a day the fighting would take them through the first villages. He knew the villages would be evacuated long before they arrived, but the enemy would still destroy everything within them, torching and looting homes, and destroying anything they could get their hands on. His job, not only as commander of the Border Guard, but as their prince, was to keep his people safe. And he would fight to the last if it were required of him. He knelt at a stream and cupped water in his hands to drink before splashing it on his face. He was exhausted, and the cold water helped revive him.

"What do they do?" Lian asked when one of his captains came to stand behind him.

"They've halted for the night, I believe, my prince."

"I've told you a thousand times, you need only call me commander when we are away from home"

"I do so out of respect. my prince."

"And how does their morale fare?" Lian splashed his face once more.

"There have been a few fights breaking out amongst themselves. But these are mostly dealt with quite quickly."

"We have them on edge though," the prince said as he stood to face his captain. "Let them rest a few hours. Then we'll attack them again, just when they think it's safe to relax."

"You're exhausted, Prince Lian," the captain stated. "Perhaps you should sit this one out?"

"We all are, captain. I will not rest, when the whole of my men are as tired as I. We are the E'eldradin Border Guard. Where one fights, we all fight." The captain nodded and Lian continued. "Let me know when the time comes to ride again."

"Yes, my prince." The captain turned and walked away.

After the captain was gone, Lian knelt by the stream once more and dunked his head under the water before standing and slowly walking back to where his men camped. He forced himself to stand straight when he came within site of them. He had to appear strong and unwavering for them, even if they knew he was tired. He must not show it. If he appeared strong, they would be strong.

"Hail Prince," and "Hail commander," he was greeted by many as he walked up to them. He would eat his meal with them, as he always did. And when they were able to rest, he would rest with them. He always did, and his soldiers loved him for it. He smiled and nodded as he sat down to a meal of dried meats and bread. No fire was allowed as they wanted to keep their location secret from the enemy.

"Are we resting the night, Prince?" One of his soldiers asked.

"No, I'm afraid not," Lian answered. "The captains will be calling you all to be ready after a while. We'll attack them again while they rest."

"Do you think we're slowing them down at all?"

"It's hard to say, really," the elven prince answered. "But to our north is the E'ldfellen. If we can hold them there until the regular army arrives, I believe we may be able to turn them around. There are also dwarven strongholds in the mountains to our east. I've sent riders there to seek help as well. The dwarves are our closest friends and allies. If they knew what was happening they would have been here already."

"How long before they might show?" Another soldier asked, while chewing a hunk of bread.

"If the riders make haste, and the dwarves assemble quickly, we may very well meet them at the E'ldfellen." He looked around at those around him. "You have all fought valiantly. Our people will be proud."

"How many have we lost?" Yet another asked.

"Far too many— I will not lie to you. Nearly a hundred of us are riding roa'an in the heavens now. I think we've all lost friends, but we must continue to hit them. This will be the last time we ride out of the trees at them. After this night we will only randomly attack from the shadows with our arrows to further keep them off balance. Now finish your meals and rest while you can. I intend to see every one of you when we make camp again."


Not long after, they rode once more out of the darkness of the Forever Lands and against the Taurian outer ranks. Some rode into the enemy letting their arrows fly, while others drew steel; blood and flames from the campfires glittering off the reflective blades as they found their targets. Others came at the taurians with spears. Shouts of surprise and anger were mixed with screams of the wounded and dying as once again the Border Guard caused havoc in the enemy camp. When they withdrew, the taurians foolish enough to chase after the disappearing e'eld were cut down in the darkness. The taurian commanders were screaming angrily at their warriors, ordering those that chased the elves into the trees to return and those who remained to stay put. While listening to the cries of alarm, the desperate orders of the enemy commanders, the bellows of anger, and the cries of the dying and wounded enemy, Lian'asuran could not help but allow a small smile to come to his mouth. He gave the order to fall back once more, and as quickly as they appeared the Border Guard melted away like a dissipating fog, as did his smile. He knew some of those he had conversed with earlier would not be there when camp was made once more.

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Slowly, and carefully in the darkness, he made his way down the wet and muddy incline into the pass below him and looked at the devastation the avalanche had caused earlier. "This must be what I heard earlier," he thought to himself. To the east of the debris, he could see the tall wooden posts that made the wall of a large stronghold. He was appalled when he drew near the debris from the avalanche and noticed among the rubble people who had been half buried when it fell. Looking around he also found items that had been dropped along the ground, as it appeared a great amount of people had recently traveled west through the pass. He found a thick grey cloak, and quickly threw it around himself to ward off the chill, thankful that he had finally found warmer clothing. And from a half buried body he was able to recover a good pair of boots. He felt like breaking down into tears as he saw the dead, the sadness of such a thing. He was searching the trampled grounds for other items that may be of use when he heard a shout behind him. Startled, he turned quickly and saw three hulking, grey skinned, manlike creatures bearing down on him. They each carried a large spear and their powerful legs carried them quickly near. When one of them threw a spear, he narrowly avoided it and ran, scrambling back up the embankment of the pass to the woods above. He could hear their heavy footfalls and even their breathing as they ran. He did not have to turn to know they were very close. Reaching the top of the pass he thought he felt large fingers brush his leg as one of the creatures tried to grab him. Once in the tree line he ran as hard and fast as he could, the growth of the forest slapping against his face and body, tangling at his legs and feet and arms as though the trees were trying to seize him. He imagined his pursuers were having more difficulty than himself, as large as they were, and used that to his advantage. He moved in and out of trees and cut to his left and his right, leaping and twisting as he ran. He tried anything that may slow them down. His efforts were proven effective, as the sounds of the three chasing him, their running and cursing, grew more distant. But even when he could hear them no longer, he still ran. He knew in his heart he had to put as much distance between himself and them as he could. He found himself running east through the trees and imagined the stronghold was somewhere to his left in the pass below. He wanted to get as far away from there as he could, and continued to run. When he was too fatigued to run any longer, he walked. "Those were skraeg," he thought to himself, unsure how he knew. But although it was a comfort to know he remembered something, that they tried to kill him was the opposite. "Where do I go from here? Should I continue the direction I'm walking? Or should I try and turn around, perhaps find the people who fled that place?" He lifted his eyes skyward. "Where would you have me go, father?" He decided to keep heading east. Where he was going, he had not the slightest idea, but he felt it was the right direction.

©Anthony David Rosenthal/To The Valley Of Dragons 2010