The Hungering Saga Complete

By Heath Pfaff

Version 4.1

5/11/13

www.offoxsmind.com

front cover art by Justin Hernandez

http://glowingraptor.com

INDEX

Book 1 - The Noble Fool

Book 2 - The Vengeful Malice

Book 3 - The Snow Song

The Noble Fool

Vol. 1 of The Hungering Saga

by

Heath Pfaff

Edited by Andrea Brooks

version 2.0

The Noble Fool is ©2008 by Heath Pfaff

Revised Edition ©2012

All rights reserved.

This novel is dedicated to my wonderful wife

Jen, who is responsible for the title,

and to my family who have supported my

many eccentric and silly whims throughout the years.

I am a monster. I was not, however, born to it. I was born as so many others into a loving family who cared for me and did all they could to ensure that my upbringing be as comfortable and pleasant as possible.  I remember most keenly being told by my father, “A man who carries a sword is a man who is looking for a fight.”  I sometimes wonder if I should have heeded his word with more enthusiasm. Did I ever really have the chance to listen to him?  I'm still not sure.  Life has its ways of sending us astray despite our best efforts to the contrary.

As I've said before, I wasn't always a monster.  I began my adult life as an apprentice of lore at the age of 16.  I was tasked with keeping the stories and histories of my people alive, so that later generations might understand our people and the glory of our kingdom. Fate however had other things in mind for me.  My life changed forever the day a Black-Eyed Devil walked into my place of business, the Danivil Library.  I remember the details well.  As a keeper of lore, it was my task to remember details, to recall them as accurately as possible, so that they might be preserved for our records. Though I have rarely had a chance to use it in the time since acquiring it, I will be applying that skill now in the writing of this story.

It all began in a single, terrifying moment...

He wasn't a tall man, but that did little to ease the imposing nature of his visage.  His skin had a vague blue tinge to it and his hair hung like long black curtains about his face, framing the gaunt stone-etched features in such a way as to make them seem even more extreme and hostile than they already were.  He was wrapped in a Lucidil Cloak, the fabric turned light in such a way that it became difficult to determine the movements and edges of the person wrapped within the shifting folds of cloth.  The cloak was strange enough, but the eyes that peered out of the hard face above the neck line of the magic fabric were stranger by far.  His eyes were solid black but for a circle of white that encircled the center and from which sprouted bolts of white that were crooked and slowly, almost imperceptibly, moved like terrible legs on some fantastic insect trapped within the blackness of the man's eyes.  Of course I knew immediately what those eyes portended, though I had never had the displeasure of actually seeing them before.  Everyone knew of the Black-Eyed Devils, though few chanced to see them in person; there were few of them.  So few of them in fact, that they were considered by most to be mere legend.  Yet there I found myself staring into those pitch-colored eyes, terrified to the very center of my being.  Even then, before any other thought came to my mind, I knew that those eyes were something alien, something that didn't belong to my world.

“Lowin Fenly?”  The mouth barely moved beneath the dark eyes, the voice little above a whisper.  Quiet though it was, my knees trembled upon hearing it.  It took me a moment to register the fact that he had said my name; it wasn't the quietness of his voice that deafened me, only the shock that he should know my name and be addressing me directly.  I nodded dumbly in reply as I didn't trust myself to voice an answer.

“You are to come with me.”  He said, turning his back to me and taking a few steps before stopping, obviously waiting for me to fall in behind him.  My heart pounded in my chest.  For a moment I thought it would shatter my ribs and rip through the front of my breast to escape.  I admit my reaction was one of cowardice and born of complete and pure terror.  I knew nothing of what was happening and I could see only one route of escape, and so I made a decision.  I turned and ran.  Perhaps if I had fully understood what was to become of me, I would have somehow found the strength to run faster. I do not think it would have mattered.

My feet worked of their own accord, one landing in front of the other to propel my body along.  I didn't know where I was running, the library wasn't very large and the door at the back was kept locked.  As I said, though, it didn't matter.  I only managed to cover thirty steps before I slammed into what felt like a solid wall.  The blow was so hard that the air was knocked from me and I fell to the ground, momentarily stunned.  Standing above me, peering down with those hideous alien eyes was the Black-Eyed Devil.  He smiled, exposing a mouth full of razor sharp teeth.  I had not seen them before, and they did little to help the terror that was clawing away at my ability to control myself.  I couldn't understand how he had gotten in front of me so quickly or how he could stand, still and unmoving after I had hit him running at full speed. Yet there he was, imposing, staring down at me like a predator sizing up a kill.  I made the briefest attempt to scramble to my feet but there was a blur of motion and suddenly I found the world slipping away from me with only the faint echo of the alarmed voices of other library workers present to guide me into darkness.

When next the world cleared for me, I found myself inside a coach.  The shades were drawn, submerging the interior into near darkness; barely enough light crept in for me to see that there were two other passengers seated with me in the small space.  Both wore cloaks around their shoulders, though only one looked to be the Lucidil Cloak of the Black-Eyed Devils.  The other figure was dressed in a white garment, though once she noticed I had awoken she quickly drew her hood up to hide her features from prying eyes, leaving only delicate, feminine hands as an indication of her sex.  The other figure also had his hood pulled up and the bottom half of his face was wrapped by a scarf that might well have been part of his cloak. The effect was such that amidst the sickening churn of the Lucidil fabric only the white portion of the Devil's eyes shone through.  Upon meeting that gaze, I found myself unconsciously trying to force my way backward through the bench upon which I sat.

“Be calm, Lowin.”  A soft female voice came from the white cloaked figure.  “I assure you that we have not collected you with the intent of killing you.”  Her words were serene and gentle, as though spoken by a girl just into her earliest years of womanhood, yet they carried a sad harmony that immediately made me wish to reach out to her.  I did no such thing, however, being far too terrified.

“What is this about?”  I asked, blurting the words before giving much thought to them.  I was calmed by the girl's presence, as though she might protect me from the creature that sat at her side.  I hoped that she might at least clarify what was happening.  Her hood shifted, revealing a glimpse of her mouth and a pretty, well defined chin.  The ends of her mouth lifted in a small smile.

“I could answer your question, but you don't know enough to understand all I would tell you yet.  Instead, let me tell you why you are here in this carriage with us.”

I nodded, eager to learn anything I might.  My eyes momentarily met those of the shifting figure next to the woman. An involuntary shudder took me, and I forced myself to focus my gaze on the white cloaked girl.  I could feel the gaze of The Devil beside her, watching us impassively, its dark gaze never wavering.

She spoke, and I listened because I knew of nothing else I could do.  Running was out of the question, even if I could manage to leave the moving carriage without breaking my legs; the rumble of its movement beneath me indicated that we were traveling very fast.  The only other options I saw were fighting, or staying and listening, and if running was a bad choice, fighting was a worse one by far.  So I sat, trying to calm myself as best I could.

“On the first day of your 16th year, you were brought to a house of testing, as are all boys and girls that age.  Such is the way of passing into the days of being men and women.”  I noticed, as she continued to speak that her voice, beautiful and calming though it was, carried a tonality and accent that I had never chanced upon before.  “As a boy on the threshold of manhood, you are given a crystal to hold and you must keep it locked in your fist until it changes color.  Once the color changes, the crystal is taken from you and the ceremony concludes.  This is what you experienced, like all other boys of your age, is it not?”

I nodded. Indeed, I remembered the ceremony well.  Six other boys from the city were with me as we approached the house of testing.  We were all nervous, but excited to be taking our first steps into adulthood.  I knew nothing of what the others were thinking, but I had imagined difficult challenges awaiting me in the house of testing.  I pictured myself forced to fend off attackers with my bare hands, or forced to run a grueling course that would test both my strength and endurance.  My father had only smiled when I asked him what awaited me at the house of testing, and that had only made my imagination reach further afield.

The night before I was to be tested, I lay awake in bed trying to steel my nerve against the perceived menace.  Of course, I had never heard of someone failing the test of adulthood.  This is a common fault of the young - perhaps it would be more accurate to say that this is a common fault of all human kind.  We build walls in our path that need not exist, but for our own foolish fears.  This is only a thought I've had in retrospect, however.  I was, that night, quite intent upon building myself an insurmountable wall of opposition.

The truth of the ceremony was, of course, something else entirely.  The six other boys and I were brought before a large altar within the house of testing.  The altar was a remarkably perfect slab of onyx, seamless and shining dully in the candle-lit interior of the sanctuary.  It was such an altar as every boy pictures when told stories of ancient times in which human sacrifice was practiced to appease hungry and vengeful gods.  The effect of that grandiose piece of stone was obvious as it took its hold on our psyches. I was standing in the middle of the other boys, three to each side, and the young man two to my left was visibly shaking to the point that I thought he might collapse.  For some reason, I took a certain amount of strength in seeing him so terrified.  Watching him quake meant that I was not the only one afraid, and that I was at least handling it better than some.  My odd reverie was broken when one of the Keepers approached the opposite side of the altar.  He was a round, balding man of middling years with a merry smile on his face that immediately put me at ease.  I could see no malice in his eyes, and his obvious good humor went far to dispel the fear that had been gripping me.  I noticed as well that the shaking of the boy two down from me had lessened to a degree at the sight of the Keeper’s warm disposition.  He still fidgeted in place, but his resolve seemed to have solidified.  It was a wonder what a kind face could do to fortify the heart.

With a sweep of his chubby hand he indicated the hitherto unnoticed crystals that lay in the center of stone, telling us that each of us should take one and clench it tightly in our fist.  I found the crystal in my palm before I had even realized that I had reached for it. The others at my side seemed to have hesitated, only going to gather a stone of their own after witnessing my miraculous survival of the task.  I clenched my hand tightly around the crystal as instructed, and immediately I felt a strange surge in my chest.  I would liken it to a firm punch, though not painful.  It startled me, and I almost dropped the crystal right then and there, but I saw the others were still holding theirs and decided dropping it at that point might be a sign of failure.  I clenched it tighter in my hand, waiting for some indication that we were done.  After a short time the cheery balding man indicated that we should place our stones back on the altar.  There was a chorus of sharp, surprised gasps from all of us as we saw that each of our gems now shone a distinct color.

The white cloaked woman's voice brought me back from my memories.  “What you do not know, indeed: what very few are privy to, is that some crystals, those that turn blue when held, are immediately passed on to our hands.” At this I knew my eyes opened in alarm.  That day many years ago as we replaced our crystals on the onyx altar, only one had been a deep azure – the one that came from my own hands.  The woman in white didn't clarify who “our hands” belonged to, and that raised a curiosity in me, but I was still far too frightened to chance a question.

“Once we receive the testing crystals, they undergo further testing until only a select few remain.  Very, very few.  Of the twenty or less we receive a year we are fortunate if we find one that passes the remaining tests. That is why you are here, Lowin.  Thought you were not aware, we have tested you and found that you possess characteristics of interest to us.”

I shook my head, confused by everything that she had told me.  “But… my name was not on that crystal in any form.  Even if the Keeper at the testing center had known me and sent the crystal to you with my name, how is it that you could find me amidst an entire city of people?  I am one man, and not even exceptionally noteworthy, at that.  Who are you?”  When I asked that last question, I had intended to imply that I wished to know the identity of the group the white cloaked girl belonged to, but she either misinterpreted my question or chose not to answer it the way I had intended.  I suspect it was the latter.

“I am Kyeia,” She indicated the dangerous figure in the shifting cloak at her side.  “And my bodyguard is Tempest.”  She paused for a moment before continuing.  “As to how we located you, that is a little harder to explain.  Right now, I hope you will accept the simple truth that the crystal, the one that you held at your testing, told me how to find you.”

I couldn't be entirely certain if she was telling me the truth, for the alien nature of her voice made it difficult for me to read any intent beyond her words.  I also felt that there was a great deal she was purposefully withholding from me, a great deal that I should know.  I believe she somehow sensed the realization in me: indeed in looking back now, I am certain of it.

“It will not be long before you have all of the answers you seek.  You need only wait for us to reach our destination, and traveling at this pace we will soon arrive…” Her words trailed off, and I felt I could almost hear an unspoken “far sooner than either of us would like,” the thought hung in the air, as obvious as the darkness was for lack of light  She did not speak her full meaning, yet I felt it and knew it all the clearer.  My fear, which had diminished as Kyeia spoke, inched its way back into my heart.  I found my attention drifting to the dark shape of the Black-Eyed Devil.

My eyes met his unblinking black orbs, but this time I willed myself not to turn my eyes away.  It took a considerable amount of effort to keep my gaze from faltering, the cold fear stirred by his gaze gripped me.  I had to reassure myself - I knew not what the future held, but for the moment at least I was safe and unharmed.  I looked for malice in the gaze of the creature that seemed to stare right through me, and though his gaze was terrifying of itself, I did not feel any contempt on his part. Our eyes locked in a sort of silent competition, and after a long moment he nodded the slightest acquiescence and pulled his hood low, covering his eyes.  Suddenly the inside of the carriage seemed still and quiet.  The carriage continued to thunder down the road at the same steady pace, the rumble of the road beneath the steel rimmed wheels and the shudder of the vehicle across the uneven road surface was all there was to hear in the world I settled back into my seat, for the first time considering what was being left behind.

I knew nothing of where I was going, and feared to ask more.  I also had no inkling of what task or purpose I was to serve when I reached wherever it was I was being taken, but I had the sudden feeling that I might never see my family and friends again.  Every mile that passed behind us was putting my home, Danivil, and all of my life there further and further behind me.  A silent tear crept down my cheek, and I realized only when it reached my lips that I was weeping.  I stifled the sounds of my weakness as well as I could, and turned my head from the others in the carriage, as if looking out the window that was blocked by shades.  I didn't want them, these abductors who had stolen me from my entire world, to see me falter.  It was bad enough I had tried to run upon first seeing the creature in the shifting cloak.  The tears kept falling, but I let out not a sound.  A moment later I felt warmth on my leg and turned to see the hand of the white cloaked woman on my knee.  She leaned across the gap between our seats, her hooded face coming so close to mine that I thought I might see something more of what lay beneath it, but I did not.

I found myself acutely aware of her in a way I hadn't been before.  She was enchanting, even hidden as she was beneath her cloak.  The small amount of her face that I could see beneath the covering of her hood was flawless, adorned with inviting lips that were pink against her pale skin.  When her face was just scant inches from mine, she whispered softly, with the barest hint of a breath.  “Everything will be fine, my Lowin.”  Like a summer breeze, cooling on the hottest day, she was gone before I'd fully registered her passing, and again we sat on our separate sides of the carriage, her head bowed as it had been since I'd woken, and I staring across at her, still feeling the tingle of her nearness.  The tears stopped then, and though I didn't forget about what I was leaving behind, I was able to accept to some extent this uncertain future.

For a time I slept then, however I do not know how long: in the darkness of the cabin the passage of time was difficult to determine.  I awoke to a cataclysm of shrill animal screaming and the terrified yell of a man's voice.  There was a great heaving of the carriage car and my eyes captured only briefly the other two occupants of the carriage bracing themselves against the walls of our once calm compartment.  The shuddering continued, and a moment later I felt the entire carriage tip up onto its left side.  There was an explosive impact as the woods frame hit the ground at high speed and ground to a stop.  In the confusion and turmoil I lost sight of the Black-Eyed Devil and the lady in white.  By the time everything had finally skidded to a stop, I was laying on the remains of the left hand door, though most of its structure had been completely shredded by the long slide across the stony ground.  A piece of thin glass protruded from my right cheek and I pulled it free, ignoring the sting and the blood that dripped from the gouge.  The cut didn't feel deep, but it was jagged.  I made to right myself as quickly as possible, but it took me a moment to orient myself in the badly skewed wreckage.  As I came to my feet, nearly hitting my head on the right hand door which was now above me, I spotted Kyeia.  She lay in a crumpled pile not more than a foot from where I stood.  I bent low and reached out to touch her.

“Kyeia?”  I asked, keeping my voice quiet, as though afraid to make any more noise after the loudness of the moment just passed.  My heart was racing with adrenaline from the accident.  I say “accident,” because at that moment that is what I believed had happened, I didn’t know any better.  Kyeia was the only pleasant aspect of my experience so far, and I was concerned for her.  As my hand touched her arm, she began to stir quietly.  I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  “Are you alright?  Can you stand?”  I asked, offering her my hand as she started to shift her weight around to get up.  Noticing me seemingly for the first time, she reached for her hood quickly and pulled it down about her face.  It had slipped up a little, exposing the tip of her nose and a bit of her cheek, but not much else.  For the first time I wondered if she was somehow disfigured beneath her mantle.  It didn't really matter, I realized, and there were more important concerns to address.  She reached out to take my hand and I helped her to her feet.  She seemed dazed, as though she were looking about for something, or someone.

“I don't know where Tempest is, but I think I can climb out the other door and pull you out from there.”  I said, not certain what else to do.  She didn't reply aloud, but nodded her head in agreement.

I reached my hands above me, unfastening the locking clasp, and pushing out.  It took me two pushes to move the door.  The force of the impact had twisted the frame of the carriage and caused it to stick.  As the door screeched opened, the sound of screaming animals returned - I had not heard them since the carriage had first begun to crash.  I looked to Kyeia once more before starting my ascent through the door above me.  She seemed frightened, and that in turn struck fear into my own heart.  I thought she might be concerned for Tempest, though I felt certain the Black-Eyed Devil would not be killed so easily.

The climb out of the carriage would have been easier if I'd been in better physical condition, but a life spent writing and managing books had not shaped me into a fit, agile climber.   With some effort I made my way clear of the wreckage and pulled myself on to what had once been the right side of our transport.  Without bothering to look around, I popped my head back into the carriage and extended an arm down to Kyeia.  She stepped forward and reached her hand out to grip mine without bothering to look up at me.  Again I wondered what could possibly be beneath her hood that she wished to hide from me so badly that even in an emergency she kept her hood pulled low, her eyes cast down.  I put the thought aside for the time being and lifted her through the door in the carriage.  She was lighter than I thought she would be which I was grateful for.  If I hadn't embarrassed myself enough during the climb out, I had been quite worried I would finish the job when I struggled to pull her from the overturned carriage.  I was far from vain, but I still didn't wish to appear a weakling in front of the white cloaked girl after having already shown fear and weakness previously.   Once she was pulled free, I took my first look at the carnage left by the accident.

The contraption that had so comfortably housed us throughout our trip was in terrible condition, though it was probably not beyond repair however it would never be seen as a luxurious transport again.  Having gauged our most immediate surroundings, I began to scan the roadway we had passed over for some sign of Tempest or the carriage driver.  It took only a moment for me to judge the road clear to the point at which we'd separated from the beasts of burden, nearly 200 yards away from where we now stood.  Three war-sows, giant boars each the sizes of two draft horses abreast, were laying scattered across the road.  The screams of one still filled the air, screeching in pain and fear.  The other two were conspicuously quiet.  It seemed to me that not moments before I had heard two of them.  Amidst the massive beasts a black figure was moving, but it was hard to distinguish from our vantage point on our broken conveyance.

“I think Tempest is alright.”  I began to say, but I only got so far as “Tempest” before Kyeia, standing at my side, interrupted me.

“That is not Tempest.”  Even as she spoke, the black figure walked over to the third war-sow and proceeded to rip the creature's head from its body with very little effort.  Before it had approached the giant pig, I hadn't properly judged the size of this monster I'd taken to be Tempest wrapped in his shifting cloak.  This thing was much larger than the Black-Eyed Devil we'd ridden with.  I was about to ask who- or what- it was, but Kyeia spoke before I could get the words out.  “Shao Geok - The Walking Death.”

A shiver ran down my spine, colder than the one that I had felt upon first seeing Tempest.  The creature's attention turned from the dead pig and as it faced us it seemed to slump down off its legs onto all four of its limbs, shifting from bipedal movement to a swifter quadruped-like gait.  It was coming for us.  There was a terrible grace in its dash between the now dead war-sows and the place where Kyeia and I stood.  As it grew closer I could see that its whole body was covered in a mat of thick black hair and that its forelimbs, though like arms ending in viciously clawed hands, seemed specifically purposed to function as well as an extra set of legs.  The creature's great head was adorned by large, pointed ears and a protruding snout, upturned in the fashion of a pig.  It was a creature whose appearance only spoke to me of one purpose: tracking and killing.  Its eyes were wide spaced but forward facing, giving it an excellent ability to judge depth of field, an apex predator.  I had little time to notice anything else about it, because by that time it was nearly upon us.

My legs quivered and I wanted to turn and run, but some part of my being screamed that I couldn't leave my companion behind.  I suppose I owed her nothing, but I knew that I would never forgive myself for such an act of cowardice.  It was one thing to run away when only your own life hung in the balance, it was another entirely to do so when someone else was depending on you.  I scanned the carriage around me, looking for something to use as a weapon but there was nothing useful within easy reach.  The distance between ourselves and the Shao Geok was closing alarmingly fast.  I did the only thing I could think of:  I stepped in front of Kyeia, interposing my body between her and the charging monstrosity.  I knew that what I was doing was futile after having seen how the creature had so easily dispatched the war-sow, but I had no other choice.  It would rip through me and into her without even slowing its charge.

“Get back into the carriage!”  I yelled, the words coming at the exact same moment the thought occurred to me.  Kyeia scrambled and began to haul on the door which had closed after we exited.  It was partially stuck again and our time was up.  The gap between ourselves and certain death had been closed in a matter of seconds.  The thing was so close that I could hear its deep, thunderous breaths as it wrested them from the air.  I did something foolish then; well, at least I tried to do something foolish.  I don't know what notion overcame me, but I found myself sailing through the air, leaping towards the creature with all of my might.  I was coming closer and closer to the beast, getting so close that I could even smell the fetid odor of its coarse, dark fur.  There was a dim fire in its eyes, a malevolent intelligence burning within them that I hadn't expected to see.  It was a monster, but not simply a dumb beast.  It raised a clawed hand to strike me in what would certainly be a killing blow.  I closed my eyes, hoping that with my insane leap I might have bought Kyeia enough time to get back inside the carriage and to safety, and then I felt the hit.

It wasn't as I'd expected it to be.  The impact came from the opposite side than the creature's strike should have, and sent me flying backwards and away from my intended target.  I hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop on my right arm and side.  I felt the fabric of my clothes, never meant for such abuse, shred and peel away even as the skin on that side of my body followed suit.  My eyes opened and I sat up, dazed, looking for the wound that should have been fatally carved into my flesh but found nothing.  In fact, though my right side hurt terribly from where I'd slid along the ground, I was remarkably unscathed.  I discovered the reason why that was when I refocused my attention on where the creature now stood.  Tempest was standing in front of it, his back to me, so that I could only see the vaguely churning outline of his shape as he faced off against the monster.  The Walking Death seemed rebuked, despite outweighing the Black-Eyed Devil by nearly double.   I noticed that there were areas of gray fabric showing through Tempest's cloak, probably a result of the carriage crash, but otherwise he seemed as steady and powerful as ever.  As I watched, the Shao Geok raised a brutal clawed fist to strike its opponent down.  There was a blur of motion from Tempest and in one smooth movement the raised forepaw of the monster fell to the ground, severed cleanly at the elbow.  I hadn't even seen the flash of Tempest’s weapon, his motion was so swift. Had my teeth not been clenched in fear, my jaw would have dropped open in shock.  The now maimed monster turned and began to run away, moving much more slowly with its missing fore-limb.  I felt certain that Tempest would chase it down and kill it with his inhuman speed, but he simply turned away from the creature and walked over to me, looking down at me with his impassive black eyes.   This was the first time I'd ever seen Tempest up close, in good light, and strangely my eyes were drawn to the feet beneath the bottom ruffle of his cloak.  I expected leather boots, maybe the flash of steel armor, but what I saw shocked me: the paws of an exceedingly large wolf.  I blinked, clearing my eyes of the dust from the road, but when I opened them again I was still seeing the same thing.  Tempest wasn't human.  He wasn't even remotely close to human.

“Are you well?”  He asked in his quiet voice and I found myself once more shivering in fear, despite the fact that I didn't particularly feel that he was a threat to me any longer.  There was a certain tonal quality to his voice that inspired fear in the listener.  He reached out a hand to me and indirectly in that act revealed yet another sign of his inhumanity.  His hand, like his feet, was that of some massive canine-like animal.  It was a fur clad paw, large and powerful looking, each ‘finger’ ending in a sharp, metallic gray claw that looked as sharp as a razor, yet it seemed he retained the nimble dexterity of a human.  I wanted to refuse to take his hand, as it inspired a primal fear and repulsion in me, but at the same time I knew as well as I've ever known anything that doing so would be neither right nor show Tempest the respect he deserved for having saved my life.  So, gathering my courage, I carefully took his offered assistance and pulled myself to my feet.

As I stood, gravel fell from where it was embedded in my side, and blood trickled down my hip and soaked into the tatters of my pants.  Somehow, it felt good.  Just the fact that I was alive to feel the pain was enough to give me a surge of surprising vigor.

“I think I'll be alright.”  I told him, testing my weight on both my feet to ensure that I was still able to move comfortably and that nothing was broken.  My right side burned terribly, and putting pressure on that leg seemed to cause the recently peeled side of my body to scream in revolt.  It was manageable though, and I forced myself to move.

Tempest strode easily past me, walking to the carriage where he offered his arm up to Kyeia, who used the proffered limb to climb back to ground level.  “We've been betrayed.”  She spoke the words in her normal tone of voice, but there was a weight about them that staggered me.  Tempest merely nodded.

I approached them, finding myself suddenly full of questions.  “What does that mean?  Who has betrayed you?  Did you know that creature that attacked us, is that why you didn't kill it?”

Kyeia held up a hand to stop my torrent of questions and I went quiet.  Maybe it wasn't my place to ask such questions, but I felt it was my right to have an answer.  “I don't know everything, Lowin.  That creature that attacked us, though, is an agent of our enemy and our mission was to be carried out in secret.  Only a handful of people even knew that we were on this errand.”

I was confused.  “Wait, if that creature was an agent of your enemy, why did Tempest let it get away?  What are we going to do now?”  I posed more questions, despite having not had all my first ones answered.

Kyeia lips curved in a small smile.  “You always have so many questions... The creature, the Shao Geok, has a peculiar nature.  They are great pack hunters, intelligent, terrible and powerful creatures.  They operate by sending out scouts and then gathering information from those scouts and acting upon it.  However, if one of their numbers is killed, they give off a foul smell that can travel for miles and miles on a day with even a slight breeze.  Once that smell hits the air, it's only a matter of time before all the other pack members show up.  However, if you only injure one of them, it will stalk off to heal the damage before rendezvousing and reporting its findings to the others.  Tempest bought us some time, at least as much as he could.”

I shook my head in disbelief that such a creature could exist without me ever knowing.  Kyeia continued, the slight smile she'd worn now fading.  “As for what we must do now, we will continue to our destination as quickly as possible on foot.  It is not far, maybe another ten miles.  If we are lucky, we can cover most of that distance before the rest of the Shao Geok come looking for us.”  The look in her eyes told me that she didn't feel that was likely.  “I'm sorry about your wounds, Lowin.  If we had more time I would see them properly treated, but for now you must suffer them until we reach our destination.”  She paused, as if carefully considering her next words.  For a moment I thought she wouldn't speak at all, but she did.  “What you did back there, on the carriage, was very brave.  It was perhaps the most foolish thing you've ever done in your life, but it was brave.”  She smiled, and I found myself blushing fiercely and feeling an odd mix of pride and embarrassment.

I wasn't sure what to make of the white cloaked woman.  Sometimes she seemed so much older than me but other times she seemed to be younger than I was, her youthful voice and slight body making her seem at least a year or two my junior.  There was a deep sense of wisdom about her, and an inexplicable sense of sadness.  She was an unknown quantity, but not an unpleasant one.

“Come,” she said, turning away from Tempest and I and starting down the road which until just recently we’d been traveling in luxury.  “We can talk more as we go but we shouldn't waste any more time here.”

I fell in at her side and Tempest took up position just behind us, though he would occasionally stride beyond us as if trying to cover both angles to the best of his ability.  For a time I watched him move, graceful, almost seeming to float across the ground rather than walk upon it.

“He is very quiet.”  I said to Kyeia, looking to make conversation.  I didn't dare breach some topics, but I couldn't think of anything else to talk about.  The Black-Eyed Devil held my curiosity.  Before he walked into the library and took me from my job, I'd only ever heard of them in stories shared around campfires and in legends.  They were said to be fearsome half-man, half-beast warriors, fighting for (or against depending on the story) the King.  They were alleged to be the offspring of human couplings with legendary monsters, and having now seen one up close I was inclined to believe the old stories more than I had before.  I understood the basics of procreation, having seen animals rut, but with no actual experience I knew little else; It seemed simple enough to me that a man who was part beast must have been born of both a man and a beast.

“He is quiet because he knows the effect his voice has on you.”  The white cloaked woman replied.

My spine stiffened at that, and I forced my shoulders to broaden.  I had no intention of being taken for a weakling.  I told her so.  “I am not a coward.”

She laughed, her voice a beautiful titter of bells.  “I didn't mean to imply that you were, Lowin.  His voice has that effect on most humans.  It is one of Tempest's many abilities.”

“Oh...” I replied dumbly, not quite sure what to make of that piece of information.  If Tempest's voice struck fear into my heart, why didn't it have the same effect on Kyeia?  I asked her.

She smiled and then shrugged her shoulders.  “I imagine you'll know in time.”  I sensed that she meant no ill will with her answer, but it still raised my ire.  Patience had never been one of my greater assets and waiting for answers in a situation where my life had been entirely turned on end was difficult.  I knew there was little to be done though, and bit my tongue.

Kyeia seemed to sense my irritation and added, “I would tell you more if I could, but there are certain things I am forbidden to speak of freely.  Knowledge, they say, is the sharpest sword.  Those who lead us...” and by 'us' I gathered she meant Tempest and herself.  Whether or not she implied that I too was under the thumb of her leader, I did not know.  “...do not wish to give you too sharp a sword before they show you how they'd like it held.”

“Can you tell me anymore about them?”  I asked, and then clarified.  “...the people whose orders you follow?”

“I'm afraid there is very little I'm allowed to tell you.”  There was sincerity in her voice, and I could sense she did want to tell me something more, and that it was something important.  It seemed to me as though there was a weight in the air between her and me, and that she alone held the key to moving it away.  However, she was either unwilling or unable to do so - I suspected the latter.  “We live a hard life, but I think we are doing well.”  There was conviction in her voice, but it was wavering.  Was that part of the secret she was hiding?  I didn't know, but I wanted to.

After that we walked on in silence for a time, keeping a fast pace though I was sure Tempest had to restrain himself to maintain a speed more appropriate for Kyeia and I.  In truth, I was slowing us all down far more than I would have liked to because of my injuries.  The damage I'd taken along the right side of my body was beginning to burn and throb in an unsettling manner.  I knew little of wounds, or how to treat them, but I had a strong feeling that the radiating pain and heat coming from mine were not a desirable trait.  By the time we had traveled five miles, I found myself staggering every few steps, struggling to maintain a clear focus on the road ahead. The land seemed to churn beneath me, and my feet felt numb, as though they were unable to send me proper information on my orientation.

“Tempest!”  I heard Kyeia gasp, and then I felt strong arms under me, lifted me off of the ground. I didn't remember falling, but I had.

“I can walk.”  I said, pushing away at the shifting cloak next to which I was held.  It was as unmovable as a wall.  Tempest seemed hardly aware of my weight as he kept pace down the road, silent and sentinel-like as ever.  Blood from my torn right side ran down the surface of his cloak, and I watched as it seemed to change color and shift path at random against the magic fabric.

I don't know how far we went, as time seemed to dilate and twist about my fevered mind.  Before I knew it, I was being placed gently on the ground.  I tried to rise to my feet, but Kyeia came close to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.  “Sit, wait.  Our fate is in the hands of Tempest now.”  In the throes of fever, I could only remember the Shao Geok, and the fact that more of them were coming for us, and so I did as she said.  All around us the foliage at the sides of the road seemed to rustle with menace, shadows dark and looming.  I looked about me, quickly turning my head from one side to the next, trying to determine from where the attack might first come.  When it finally came, I didn't know even realize it until the first of the creatures lay dead.  There was a grim gurgling, and as I turned to face it I saw the shadowy body of the monster tumbling to the ground, its head tumbling elsewhere.  There were other dark shapes coming from the woods, surrounding us. Tempest seemed to appear and disappear amidst them, flashing from place to place, seeming everywhere at once in a swirl of his magical cloak. Where he stepped, death followed.  Even if I hadn't been lost in fever, I don't think I could have followed the movements of his limbs as he attacked.

He carried a sword at his side, but he did not immediately draw it from its scabbard.  His initial attacks were all carried out with his bare hands, but as the enemy numbers grew greater he drew his sword, extending his killing range.  He would vanish from one place, appear next to one of the monsters, there would be a great flash, and the creature would simply fall apart.  The Shao Geok seemed mostly uninterested in Tempest as he fought them, only moving to fight him if he crossed their path – he was not their primary target.  They came directly for Kyeia and me.  She was pressed close against me, her arms wrapping me tight, and I might have enjoyed the embrace more if the situation had been different.  As it stood, I felt wretched and just wanted the nightmare to end.  The Shao Geok just kept coming, and with each wave the area that Tempest was able to hold grew smaller and smaller.   Bodies were piling up at an alarming rate but one man, even one Black-Eyed Devil, couldn't be everywhere at once.

Tempest let out a bloodcurdling roar, a sound so terrifying that I began to tremble in fright, tears seeping from my eyes.  I didn't fear Tempest any longer, but his voice was such that it still caused me to quake in horror.  Even Kyeia, pressed so near me, trembled at his challenge.  The Shao Geok fell back, visibly balked by the voice of their enemy.  The lone warrior did not miss this opportunity.  He dove into their ranks anew, wielding his sword as though it was the hand of death itself, and indeed for the Shao Geok it was.  They kept coming though, pouring from the woods the way water will seep through a crack in a dam until the whole thing collapses.  The fighter in the shifting cloak roared into the night again, and though it slowed the enemy once more its effect was not as drastic as it had been the first time.  Tempest was losing ground.

Then, before my eyes, there were two forms dancing and twirling.  It happened so suddenly that I thought it might be the effect of the fever at first.  Tempest was fighting, losing ground, and suddenly there were two men in shifting cloaks, ripping through the ranks of Shao Geok.  If it hadn't been for some obvious differences in appearance, I would have sworn that I was hallucinating, that Tempest's amazing speed had finally gotten to my fever-addled brain.  This wasn't the case though; The second man was taller than Tempest and carried a spear.  I couldn't make out any more details because the new-comer was moving every bit as fast as Tempest, and keeping their speed-blurred features in sight would have been difficult even for a perfectly healthy individual.  The colors of the world faded and I realized that I was losing consciousness.  I realized what was happening to me and I opened my mouth to protest.

“Oh no...” I gasped as the battle, the sounds of death, and the world at large fled from my perception for a time.

I awoke in bed, but it didn't take me long to realize that it wasn't my own familiar bed.  The mattress was far more comfortable than mine had ever been, and it was in a room I didn't recognize.  The room was small, barely large enough for the bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and maybe two or three people to stand comfortably in but little else.  I was lucky enough to have a window though, and I found the warm light streaming in through the high opening to be particularly calming.  There was a noise at the door and a moment later a heavy-set dark haired girl came into the room.  She was dressed in the gray and white uniform of a medical attendant, and when she entered and saw me awake she smiled.  Her face wasn't beautiful by most standards, but she had the kind of smile that made her plainness and her slight plumpness seem insubstantial.  Her eyes were a vivid green, made to seem even more vivid by the dark frame of her hair.  I guessed she was only a few years older than me.

“Ah, it's good to see you awake, Master Fenly.”  Her voice was deep, husky, almost sultry, though I think it was an unintended sultriness.

I stretched and felt pain surge down the right side of my body.  I wanted to investigate the damage more closely since I hadn't taken the time to really see how badly hurt I was, but I didn't feel comfortable doing so with someone watching.  I had also just noticed a complete lack of clothing beneath the covers of my bed which made me hesitant to remove them.    “I wish I could say it was good to be awake.”  I said, reflecting on the pain, and then added, “I see you know my name, however I don’t know yours. What should I call you by?”

She laughed merrily.  “I'm sorry, Master Fenly.  I am certainly being lax in my good manners, aren't I?  My name is Merrywin. Just Merrywin.  You can call me Nurse Merrywin, if you like, but Merrywin is fine by me.  I see you're still feeling some pain, but I suppose that's to be expected given the extent of your injury.  You had a nasty infection in your wounds, though thankfully they were at least not terribly deep. You did require some stitches, though.”

I sat up suddenly, my full memory of the day before finally coming clear to me.  “Kyeia, Tempest, are they alright?”  I asked, remembering the dire situation we'd been in before I collapsed.  My heart was beating hard in my chest.  Merrywin placed a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down in my bed.

“The Knight and the Bound One are fine, Master Fenly.  I'm sure Kyeia will be in to see you later.”  The plump nurse said with a smile.  Only after hearing those words did my heart calm and the full realization of just how naked I was in the presence of my female nurse became clear to me.  I blushed and pulled my blankets up about my shoulders.  The sultry voiced woman went on, apparently not noticing my discomfort.  If she did notice, she was good enough not to mention it.   “She has been in to check on you every day, and that is not at all common for one of her kind.  They generally don't take interest in...”  Her words trailed off.  “Ooops, Nurse Merrywin needs to learn to keep her mouth closed, I think.”  She said with a short laugh.  She had piqued my curiosity however, and raised several new questions.  That Tempest was referred to as a Knight did not surprise me, but what did “Bound One” imply, and what did Merrywin mean when she said “her kind.”  I hadn't detected any hostility in her tones, but she had referred to Kyeia as though she were some alien creature.  I briefly considered asking my questions but I had the feeling that I either wouldn't get an answer, or that in getting an answer I would cause trouble for the nurse who had been looking after me while I recovered.  One question, though, I thought was safe enough to ask.

“You said she has been here to check on me 'every day.'  How long have I been asleep?”  I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“You've been unconscious for four days now, Master Fenly.  Your injuries were not terrible, but by not cleaning the wounds and exposing yourself to strenuous exercise after receiving the wounds, you started a bad infection and weakened your body's natural ability to fight such an infection. We’ve had to also give you medicinal treatments that have held you unconscious to hasten your body’s mending.”

I nodded, only happy that it had not been longer.  “I understand.  In the future I'll have to try to avoid making your job more difficult.”

At that, she laughed.  “But then I would have nothing to challenge me, Master Fenly, and what fun would that be?”

I smiled, liking Merrywin more and more by the minute.  She had a good sense of humor and an honest personality.  “In that case, I'll see if I can get myself into a bit more trouble next time.  ...and, feel free to call me Lowin.  I'm not accustomed to being called 'Master' anything.

“Alright, Lowin, shall we have a look at your wounds and see how the healing is coming?”

I acquiesced, deciding that any shyness was irrelevant at this point as she'd already been treating the wound while I was unconscious.  Besides, my own curiosity mostly overrode any insecurity.  She approached the bed and I rolled on to my left side, allowing the blankets to come off of my right side.  Her hands were quick and skilled in working with the binding of my wounds, but there was still pain.  I winced in both discomfort and shock as I saw the extensive damage to my flesh.  There were many deep cuts and gashes running the length of my right side, some that would obviously form into permanent souvenirs of my quick and abrasive meeting with the road.  One in particular ran from half way down the right side of my torso to just below my right hip.  I held the blankets about my groin tightly, keenly aware of Merrywin's eyes as they traveled the length of my body.  To her credit, she went about her work with a kind quickness, replacing all my bandages and coating my wounds in a cooling salve.  As she finished I pulled the blankets back around me, happy to be hidden again beneath their surface.  I felt, though it was no fault of Merrywin's, like I'd been stripped of all my male bravado and strength.

“Your wounds are healing nicely now.  You wouldn't have wanted to see them when you first came in, I can tell you that.  I think you'll be back on your feet full time in a day or two.  You'll need to go easy at first, of course, until those stitches are ready to come out.”  I nodded dumbly at her judgment, still shocked from what I'd seen.  There had been a good deal of stitches amidst the mass of angry flesh.  I hadn't counted them, and had no intention of doing so.

“I'll be back in a moment.”  Merrywin said cheerily, and then she was out of my room in a flash.  She was back just as quickly, a tray in one hand, a pitcher of some liquid and a tankard in the other.  My stomach rumbled loudly as it anticipated whatever food might be hidden beneath the lid of the tray and, I realized as well, my mouth was as dry as it had ever been.  She sat the tray and pitcher down on the desk near the bed, bade me eat well, instructed me to stay in bed as much as possible for the rest of the day, and departed.  I was, in a way, sad to see her go. Her company had been pleasant and her tongue was loose enough that I might have learned more of my situation from her general chatter.  Perhaps, I reasoned, that was why she had chosen to not stick around while I ate.

I sat up in bed, positioned myself before the desk on which the food had been sat, and prepared to eat.  I considered momentarily looking for my clothes but decided against it.  It would be too much hassle to get dressed anyway with such tender wounds.  I wrapped the blankets about my waist and removed the lid from my meal.  Steam rose from a bowl of soup.  It had a deep brown color to it and smelled of fresh vegetables and herbs.  There was a small loaf of bread as well, and the pitcher of liquid turned out to be full to the brim with chilled water.  I poured myself a drink and set to devouring the food.  It was perhaps not the heartiest meal, but for having not eaten in days it tasted like a feast for a king. I was nearly finished with my food when the handle at the door to my room began turning.  I jumped in surprise, attempted to pull my blankets further around me and became entangled, falling backwards into the bed, half in and half out of my covers.  I looked up in time to see Kyeia in the door frame, her hood up, as was it always, but her mouth open in a tiny “O” of surprise.  She had apparently not expected me to be awake and even more apparently had not expected me to be half naked and sprawled across my bed in what had to seem like a very compromising position.  I sat up as quickly as I could in an attempt to recover some dignity, but the effort was at that point mostly lost.

“Excuse me," Kyeia said.  “I didn't know you were up yet.  I'll go.”  She turned to exit and I leaped from my bed, catching her lightly by the shoulder.  In the process my coverings fell down around my ankles, and I found myself all too aware of the chill in the room.

“Don't go...”  I said somewhat pathetically, standing there in nothing but the skin I'd been born with.  She turned back to me, what I could see of her cheeks a light pink that seemed almost a bright red against the framing of her white hood.

“Alright, but could you at least please pull your blankets back up?”  She said, and there was a smile on her lips that made me wish I could kiss them.  I refrained, somehow.

“Ah... y-yes.”  I stammered, recovering my blankets and returning to bed.  My side was aching now and I guessed I had probably just coerced some of the wounds to begin bleeding again.  Merrywin would have something to say about that when next I saw her.

“How are you feeling?”  Kyeia asked.  Behind her words was a true concern that made me smile, despite myself.

“I am doing well.  Merrywin says I should be on my feet soon.”

“That is good.”  She replied, her face growing serious.  “There is still much you need to learn. There is much to do. I...”  She started, stopped, and then began again, as if changing her mind about what she should say.  “We, Tempest and I, were most concerned about you.  He believes there is great potential within you.”  She seemed to be gathering herself up for something, though I wasn't sure what.  When she spoke again, the sadness I so often felt from her had returned.  “I agree with him.  You will be a person who achieves great things.”  I wanted to feel some sense of pride at the compliment, though I knew not what I had done to earn it, but I could feel nothing but that quiet sadness.  Why did speaking a compliment seem to cost Kyeia so much?

I tried to play it off, doing my best to cover up the inexplicable feeling that I was missing something that should have been obvious.  “I'm nothing special, just a keeper of lore who can barely save himself from being defeated by a roll down the road”

The girl in white shook her head vehemently, suddenly angry, though I couldn't guess why.  “Don't you ever think so poorly of yourself, Lowin Fenly.”  She stamped her foot in agitation as she spoke, her self-composure as frayed as I'd ever seen it.  “You will be great.  You will do it for me or I will never, ever, forgive you, do you understand?”  She didn't give me time to answer.  She spun on her heels and stomped out the door, slamming it closed behind her.  I was stunned.  At that time I had no idea why my casual attempt at modesty had made her so angry.  Thinking back, I often wish I could take back those words.  I wish that I could replace them with, “I am the best, and I will always be the best.”  I don't know if those words are true, but they are the ones I should have spoken.  The past, however, is something one cannot change, no matter how deeply one desires to do so.  This monster knows that, now.  Perhaps that knowledge indicates some last vestige of humanity within me.

That evening, after Kyeia had left my room in a rage, I had a very peculiar dream.  I will not write of all my dreams because not all of them are pertinent to the events of these writings, but this one stands out in my memory, and though it seemed irrelevant at the time I think those reading this story will be able to glean some relevance from this nocturnal conjuring if not now then in the later pages to follow.  So, let me begin.

I found myself amidst a wood of great pines.  I stood upon a path that stretched out ahead, leading toward a hut in the distance, barely visible in the shadow of the green canopy above.  I gazed over my shoulder to see from where I'd come, but the path did not extend behind me, so that it seemed my journey had begun where I stood.  I was, then, at the beginning.  I did what any man does at the beginning of a journey.  I took a step, and that one was quickly followed by another, until the hut in the distance began to grow larger, closer.

As I came within range of the structure I noticed that a trickle of smoke was issuing from its chimney, a sign that it was not merely a structure abandoned within the deep woods.  I wondered who would build so far away from civilization, for though I didn't know where I was, I knew that it was a place far removed from the bustle of city life.  I soon drew closer and was able to make out two figures standing outside of the hut beneath the canopy of green.  Once I was close enough to clearly define the two figures, I may have stopped in my tracks with horror, had my feet not unconsciously kept carrying me forward.

The first of the figures I was able to see clearly I had at first taken to be a human man, bare to the waist, wearing some form of animal-skin pants, but once I was close enough to fully grasp what I was seeing, I realized that I was actually witnessing a naked man with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a bear.  He was the less disturbing of the two entities before me.  The second man, though I use the term loosely, was chained about the neck to a great wood post.  He had the upper torso of a bear, and the lower body of a naked human man.  I wanted to turn and run but my legs, it seemed, once started on the journey down the path, could not be turned away.

“What manner of monster are you?”  I heard my own voice ask the man with the legs of the bear as I drew near.

“Is that any question to ask those whose hospitality you are infringing upon?”  He answered my question with his own, in a voice that was intelligent, and well mannered.  “Besides,” he continued, “I am no monster, simply a man like yourself.”

“What of him?”  I heard myself ask, pointing to the creature with the top half of a bear.  The bear eyed me with hungry eyes, great slavering jaws glistening and hungry.

The man laughed.  “He is indeed a beast, and he would kill us both if I but let him slip his chain for a second.  He hates you and me.”

I didn't see the humor in his statement.  “Why do you not kill him then, while he is chained and unable to harm you?”  That seemed a logical course of action to me.

The bear-legged man's eyes turned hard. “If I were to kill him, would that not make me a monster as great and terrible as he is?  He and I are not so different, you see.”

I thought on this for a time, trying to find an answer.  It seemed to me that letting such a beast live was akin to inviting death, but killing a creature, any creature, that was chained and helpless . . . was that the act of a man?  There seemed some other question to this problem as well, something deeper that I wasn't grasping, but that I knew I should.

“Why does he hate us so greatly?”  I finally thought to ask.

“Because you and I are both still part man, while he is lost to the beast.”  The man with the bear legs answered.

“Part man?  I am a man, whole.”  I answered, pounding my fist to my chest.  “I am no half-beast as are you and he.”

“Aren't you?”  The man with the bear legs asked.

I looked down at myself and, sure enough, there were the legs of a great beast beneath me.  Those feet that had carried me down the path, uncontrollable on their course, were those of a monster.  My eyes shifted up so that I might rage against the man with bear legs, and demand to know what he had done to me, but when they came to where he should have been, I found myself staring eye to eye with the top half of the bear, its chain dangling loose behind it.  It jumped at me; forepaws swinging in a vicious arc that I knew would end me.

I awoke, covered in sweat and with the terrors of the night still weighing heavily on my chest and lingering in my mind.  I was hardly one to look for meaning in my dreams, but I rarely had such clear visions in my sleep.  What it meant was beyond me.  I stretched my body, trying to expel the last of my sleep, and decided to put off thinking about my strange dream for some other time.  On my desk sat a basin of water and a cloth to clean myself.  I didn't know when it had been delivered, but the water was still warm.  I was happy to have it.  I got up from my bed, mindful of my right side, and stood over the basin, looking at the face I saw reflected within.  It had been a long while since I'd really looked at myself, but I did so then.  Vibrant blue eyes looked out from beneath hair that was too dark to be called blond but not as dark as was common in those parts.  It was cut short, at least in relation to the longer hair styles that were popular among the men of the city, though it was long enough to hang and cover most of my face if I didn't sweep it aside.  My face was soft featured, covered in the light hair of a man who was still too young to need regular shaving.  I was tall for my age, but not so much so that I stood out amidst a crowd.  I was not well muscled and had never been called graceful or quick by anyone.  I was an apprentice of lore and such physical attributes had been unnecessary throughout the course of my life.  I ran my hand through my reflected image in the basin, remembering the heated words of Kyeia the night before.  Ripples broke apart the surface of the water until all that remained in the basin was the wavering light from the window.

“I am nothing special," I repeated to myself, disappointed in the face that had looked out from the water.  Only those blue eyes, clear and bright, marked me as different from any number of other boys you would find in any number of towns and cities of the world.  Yet, despite my plain nature, I found myself in an unusual situation, still unsure of what my future might hold.  Kyeia had been so certain that I was destined for great things, but what those might be was still beyond my imagining.

Merrywin came into my room not long after I washed.  She had her normal bright smile and went about her work with diligence, only departing after changing my bandages and providing me with a tray of breakfast and a clean set of clothes.  I asked about my own clothing and was informed that there had not been enough left to bother repairing.  It was depressing to know I would not see my apprentice loremaster clothing again, mostly because it was the last vestige I had of everything I'd left behind, and I still couldn't get over the feeling that I would not be returning to my life in the city.

My life had been nothing worth recording in the histories, but it had been pleasant enough.  I'd had a good job and within the year my parents would have arranged for me to be married to a nice girl, probably one who worked in the field of book binding or scribe craft, so that our two skills would complement each other.  I had also looked forward to the prospect of marriage simply because the male side of me had grown quite lonely through my long years of study.  At that age, nearly seventeen years, most of my friends had, if not married, at least experienced the secrets of men and women.  They had often chided me regarding my naiveté in such regards, but honestly none of it had bothered me.  For me romance, or at least the semblance of romance to be had from an arranged marriage, was simply another part of my life that would unravel in its own time.  My family had been wealthy enough that it was never a question of me finding someone whom I loved, but always a matter of waiting for my parents to determine who would be a profitable match for me.  I was sure they would have made a choice in my best interest.  In truth, I probably would have done no better myself.  It wasn't that I couldn't speak to women, just that I had no idea what it would take to impress one.

I shrugged my shoulders, as if in doing so I could simply shrug off the thoughts that troubled me.  It wasn't so, but it acted as a physical symbol of my readiness to move on.  Having finished cleaning, I picked up the clothes that had been brought in for me to wear.  The shirt was deep green, like the leaf of a tree at the height of its summer bloom, and the accompanying pants were a rich black.  The quality of both was superior and had the stiff feeling of clothing that had been freshly tailored.  I was surprised to receive such a nice outfit for free and I slipped into it quickly, finding the fit quite to my liking.  The sleeves of the shirt were long but the shoulders and elbow were spacious enough not to bind as I moved.  The pants were of a tough material I was not familiar with but was flexible and breathed enough to be comfortable.  There were no shoes or boots, which I assumed would be rectified eventually.  I looked at myself in the wash basin again, though I could see little more than my collar and a piece of my face in the water that remained.

“Good enough," I said to no one, and sat down to eat my meal.  My breakfast was porridge, another small loaf of bread, and water again.  Some would have complained about the lack of variety in the beverage, but I had always found cool water to be very refreshing.  I ate my food in silence, wondering what I should do once I was finished.  My side still ached considerably but it felt well enough that I wanted to be up and doing something.  I knew nothing of where I was and the small room I was staying in offered me little in the way of anything to do.  I made up my mind as I ate that I would go out and have a look around after my meal.  I had not been forbidden to leave my quarters and I couldn't see where there would be any harm in at least familiarizing myself with my immediate surroundings.  I harbored a nagging suspicion that someone might be upset with my choice to do some exploring but quieted my worries by again telling myself that no one had said I shouldn't get out and about.  Even Merrywin had indicated that I was well enough to be up and about when she brought my food, and if that wasn't the same as saying I should go for a walk then the rules could be damned.

With my breakfast finished I went to the door of my room, half expecting it to be locked when I tried to turn the handle.  It wasn't.  I pushed the door open and stepped out into a long hallway.  The corridor was broken by doors on either side, four beyond me on each side of the hall to my left and two on each side of the corridor to my right.  I guessed, from the uniform appearance of the doors, that I was in some sort of medical ward.  Briefly I considered seeing if anyone inhabited the rooms around mine, but decided at the last moment that it would be rude to disturb others who might be resting and trying recover from wounds.  Instead I turned to my right and walked to the end of the corridor where there was a door.  I grabbed the handle and attempted to turn it, but it was locked.

“Ahhh," I said aloud.  My room wasn't locked and I hadn't been forbidden from leaving it because they knew I couldn't go far if I did.  I walked back along the hallway to the far end, seeing if there was anything there that I might entertain myself with, but the end furthest from my room contained nothing but more rooms with closed doors and a stone wall with no window.  Suddenly the sick ward I'd been in felt more like a prison than a place of healing.  I realized that perhaps this was why the window was so high and narrow in my room.  I was given the illusion of freedom, but nothing more.  I could, I thought, wait beside the door at the end of the hall until someone came through and then try to make a break for it, but that would accomplish little.  Whoever it was that had gone to the trouble of having me fetched would not let me go so easily and at least for the moment I was being treated with some level of accommodation.  If I tried to run, things might get much worse for me.  I walked forlornly back to my room, closed the door, and sat down on my bed.  I wished I hadn't gotten up to look around.  Before I knew I was locked in, I had felt better about my situation.

There was nothing for me to do, and so I sat and waited.  I don't know how long it was, but after a time I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and then my door opened and Kyeia stepped in.  I noticed, as she came in, that there was a figure in a shifting cloak still standing in the hallway beyond my room.  It was obviously a guard, there most likely to ensure that I didn't try to make a run for it while I had visitors.  I wondered if Merrywin was also accompanied when she did her rounds.  It wasn't that I had any intention of trying to run, for I was certain I would be caught before I could even leave the building, but I was interested in understanding just how thoroughly I was being watched.

Kyeia spoke, but I almost missed her words as I was still deep in thought, "...for yesterday.  I didn't intend to get so angry.  There is much you still don't understand, but I can answer some of your questions now.”  I only caught part of what she said, peripherally, until the last few words.  At the prospect of finally getting some answers, my attention perked.  She noticed my jump in attentiveness and held up a hand, indicating that I should wait before jumping into the litany of questions she knew I had.  She reached up and pulled back the white hood that had hidden her face from our very first meeting.  I jumped at what I saw, unintentionally, but I knew that she'd seen it.  She wasn't disfigured at all: if she had been, I would have not been as surprised.  I was prepared to handle something like a missing eye, or terrible burn scar, but I wasn't prepared for the truth.  Beneath her hood was a beautiful girl, apparently near my age but perhaps a little younger, with hair as white and fine as any I had ever seen.  The lines of her face were so gracefully crafted that the word “perfection” slipped into my mind unbidden, but the tranquility of her features only proved to make her most outstanding feature all the more intense.  Her eyes were like those of Tempest, though not the same shade of dead black.  Instead, they were the deepest violet I'd ever seen, broken only by the white ring in the center, and the streaking, ever shifting, lines of lightening.

My words bubbled free from my mouth before I could stop them.  “You’re not human... like Tempest, you're...”  She put a finger over my lips, the touch cool and electrifying.

“I am of the race known as Uliona, and though my eyes are like those of Tempest, Tempest is not of my people.  My people serve your king by way of sacred Pact and I am a servant of that Pact.  Tempest is a Knight of Ethan, and holds a far superior place in the chain of command.”

As she spoke, I remembered Merrywin calling Kyeia a “Bound One” the day before, and now I thought about that further.  Was Kyeia bound by her people's pact to serve Tempest?  They traveled together constantly, and though I had not suspected anything other than a girl and her bodyguard before, now I wondered if there wasn't more to it.  The two seemed to have a deep secret understanding of which I wasn't part.  I had felt it during our travels together, brief though they were.  I held my tongue, wanting to know the answer but I found myself unable, or unwilling, to phrase the question.

She continued, "You have been brought here to receive a very rare type of training.  As I explained to you before, you have been selected, through the crystals, because you possess traits that will enable you to succeed in this training where others would fail.  I am still not at liberty to discuss the exact nature of the training, the outcome of the training, or the nature of my people's Pact with the king, but I can answer other questions that you might have.”  Her tone of voice was professional, almost dispassionate, as though she were trying to keep her distance from me.  I felt a brief pang of jealousy at Tempest, feeling that something had been lost between Kyeia and me since we'd traveled together.  Possibly, I realized, because I had misspoken the day before.

“How long will this training take?  Will I be allowed to return home when all is done?”  They were not the questions that I found most pressing, but all those I would have asked if I'd had my free will were beyond the scope of what Kyeia was willing to answer.

“The training time varies, depending on how apt you are at the work.  I would say no less than a year and no more than two.  Once your training is finished," She paused here, seeming deep in consideration about how to proceed.  “...once you've finished your training, you could return home, if you wanted to.  None of the others have.”

“The others?  When will I meet them?”  I asked, curious to see what I was being trained for.

She shook her head.  “I don't think I can talk about that.”

I thought for a moment, my eyes lingering on hers, and the beautiful shape of her face.  Despite her eyes, so foreign and strange, I felt myself once again inexplicably wanting to lean forward and kiss her.  I turned away from her, trying to break the hold she seemed to have over me.  It was foolish to let my mind wander down such avenues.  I knew very little of her, and her only concern with me was her duty, which I felt she would perform no matter what that meant to me.  How little I truly knew of her.

“How long am I to remain locked in?”  I asked, deciding the time for tact had failed.  If she was surprised, she didn't show it.

“You will be released later this evening, but you shouldn't try to leave, Lowin.”  She said.  I wasn't sure whether this was a warning or a friendly pleading.  “They won't let you go, and things will be much harder for you if you run.”

I tried not to show my disappointment, but I felt my shoulders slump.  I was, indeed, a prisoner.  I had hoped, foolishly, that perhaps the medical ward was kept locked for other reasons or that Kyeia would deny that I was caged when I made the accusation, but such was not the case.  Any appearance of freedom I might have for the next year or two would be false, and what would come after that?  I couldn't begin to guess.

“Will there be any others in training with me?”  I asked, hoping that I might, at the very least, find a companion to share my time with.

“No, Lowin.”  Kyeia answered with what I thought might be sympathy, in her voice.

I nodded, suddenly feeling more alone that I'd ever felt in my life.  I fell back into my bed, defeated.  “I have no more questions," I said, and while it wasn't exactly true, I found myself not wanting to know anymore.  I hoped that maybe, by not knowing anything else, I might somehow avoid any more bad news.

Kyeia stayed a few minutes more, quiet, as though there was more to be said or she expected something else from me, but I ignored her.  In truth, I wanted to ask her to hold me and tell me that she would be my friend, so that I might have at least one person to turn to in my new hostile world.  I said nothing and after a time she got up and left the room.  I am not ashamed to admit that I cried then, for a long time, sobbing like the boy I still was.  By society's standards, I may have been a man. However, I was still just a child lost in a world of frightening adult concepts, friendless and adrift.  Merrywin came in later, to bring my lunch, and though she was cheerful and attempted to make conversation, I turned my back to her and let her go about her work.  She must have felt sorry for me because she told me that she would come back later and check my wounds, and then departed, leaving me in the perfect silence of my cell.

I was, of course, being foolish.  It accomplished nothing for me to alienate the few people who would actually talk to me, and I knew that.  We all want to be saved, and at that time that is what I wanted most of all.  I wanted someone to force me to care about the world, to show me that things were going to be all right.  There was no one left to do that for me, I knew that as well.  I passed several more hours then, wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting for the day to end.  When my door opened next, I had every intention of ignoring whoever it was.  I guessed it was Kyeia, back to try to talk with me again, since it wasn't yet time for dinner.  Therefore my shock was complete when I felt someone grab me by the back of my shirt and lift me from the bed, swinging me around until I was looking into a pair of intense black eyes.  At first I thought it was Tempest, come to beat me for ignoring Kyeia earlier in the day but I realized quickly that I was looking into the eyes of someone else entirely.  The gaze that met mine was that of a woman.  She was tall though, taller than I, and strong.  The arm that protruded from her Lucidil Cloak was fur-clad like Tempest's, a claw with articulate digits ending in razor-sharp knives.  Her hair was fiery red, tied back from her face severely and though there was beauty in her features it was overshadowed by a brutal ferocity that chilled me to the bone.  As for the rest of her form, it was impossible to distinguish beneath the shifting surface of her cloak.

“I understand you will be starting your training soon.”  Her voice did not ring with the same terrifying rumble as Tempest's.  I thought it might be a distinction between males and females of her race, none the less her voice held command and I answered though it hadn't been phrased as a question. I quickly forgot about my own self-pity.

“Yes," I answered, feet scrambling for some purchase on the ground but finding none.  She gave me a sharp shake and I stopped fidgeting.  As I did so, she dropped me to the ground, my knees very nearly giving out on me.

The woman-Devil looked at me, and I was sure she was looking at parts of me that no other could see.  I reflexively tried to shrink away.  She sneered. “Don't be a coward.  Whether I am more powerful than you or not, there is no benefit in showing your weakness to anyone- friend or foe.”  At that I made myself stand up straighter and did my best imitation of gathering my courage.  She let out a breath of exasperation.  “They talk about you as though you're something special, but I don't see it.”

I was looking at her more closely now, attempting to understand her.  I guessed that she was perhaps five years older than me, maybe less, but she carried herself like a seasoned warrior.  There was a firmness about her that dared anyone to take her less than seriously.  I opened my mouth, shut it, and then, remembering the conversation I'd had with Kyeia the day before, spoke.  “I will be the best.”  It sounded ludicrous to me as I said it, partially because it came out in a waiver, and partially because I knew nothing of what I was going to be “the best” at.

She laughed sharply, there was no humor in it, "We shall see.  You will report to the training yard by sunrise tomorrow.”  With that, she spun in place with an audible crack of her cloak and walked out the door, slamming it in her wake.  I let out a breath I'd been holding while she was in the room and fell back on my bed.  I didn't know where the training yard was, or how I was to be up before first light tomorrow, but I intended to be there on time - one way or another.

The night passed quickly and the pre-dawn hours found me ready to leave my room and find the training yard.  It would be easy to say that I was anxious only because I had been cooped up in my room since I'd arrived, but the truth was a good deal of my rising anticipation was the fear generated by the black-eyed woman who had come to my room the night before.  I managed to wait almost another twenty minutes before I finally got up from my bed and opened the door.  There were a pair of boots sitting just beyond the door and I surmised they had been left for me.  I put them on, noting that they fit like they had been custom crafted for my feet.  I walked down the corridor to the door that had been locked the day before and put my hand on the handle, expecting to find it still locked, but it turned easily under my hand and I pushed the door open.   The door, to my surprise, lead directly into an open yard.  I stepped out into the darkness and only once I was fully outside did I notice the figure standing just beyond the portal.  I jumped, startled by the presence of the figure in the shifting cloak so near at hand.  The cloaked figure was neither Tempest nor the woman from the night before, making it the third Black-Eyed Devil I'd encountered at close range.  This one, though I knew it had seen me pass, made no motion as I walked by.  He was of average height, most of his features hidden by his cloak, hood, and face mask.  I swallowed hard and forced myself to speak to him.

“Sir, I am looking for the training field, do you know where I might find it?”  I decided that being as polite as possible seemed the best course of action.

The cloaked figure lifted a hand, a surprisingly human hand that featured none of the fur and claws I'd witnessed on Tempest and my visitor from the day before, and pointed off into the darkness in front of me.  Where exactly he meant I could not be sure, since the sun was more than an hour away and the night was particularly dark.

I bowed, as I might have to a customer of the library while I was still working as a loremaster's apprentice.  “Thank you, sir.”  I did not bother to ask for clarification.  I didn't think he would offer any, and I would just as soon find my own way.  I began to walk into the night.  Now out in the open, I could see that I was in a large, fenced-in compound.  There were many buildings around me, not all of which I could determine the nature of.  The building I had been staying in was one of the smaller but there were many others of near the same size.  The largest of the buildings appeared to be a fortified mansion but it was in the opposite direction from which I was walking so I could not see much of it, especially in the darkness.  The direction I had been pointed appeared to be away from the bulk of the buildings.  I could see the wall to my left as I went and I guessed that it was in front of me as well, but I was too distant to make it out.

I thought of the Black-Eyed Devil I'd seen outside my door and the so-very-human limb he'd shown while pointing out my path.  I wondered what could account for such a range of differing physical traits in a single race.  The female of the night before had not had the same razor like teeth or earth-shaking voice that Tempest had but she'd had the fur clad arms and clawed hands, which the guard beyond my door had not.  I wondered if they were all of different, but similar, races.  Tempest, the woman, and the guard at my door had all had the same black eyes and stoic mannerism.  There was still a puzzle there to be deciphered.  As I made my way along I had to stifle a yawn, tiredness seeping in on me.  I had slept very little the night before, worried about what was to come, but the early morning was chill which helped to keep me moving.  My eyes scanned my surroundings, looking for some indication that I had reached the proper place.

Ahead of me I could make out a small building, smaller even than the one that contained my room and I made my way toward that structure.  I reached it quickly and was still looking around when I felt a touch on my shoulder that caused me to jump so hard I nearly fell over.  I spun around in terror, almost striking out with a fist.  Of course, had I done so I would have accomplished very little if not managed to injure myself further.  The guard from my room was standing behind me. He gestured to indicate that I could stop walking.  I had, apparently, reached my destination.  Breathing heavily from my fright, I apologized, “I'm sorry, Sir, but you very nearly scared the life right out of me.”  He pulled down his shifting veil and there was a smile on his lips, open and surprisingly friendly for one of his race.  I noted that his teeth were quite human in proportion, nothing like the line of knives inside of Tempest's mouth.  There was yet another strange dissimilarity amidst the Black-Eyed Devils I'd met so far.

I had arrived early, though not by much, because I only had to wait another ten minutes before a figure appeared in the slowly brightening morning, seeming to materialize from the fabric of the night. It was the same woman who had come to my room the night before, though it took me a moment to realize this because she was fully adorned in her shifting cloak, hood up and mask in place.  As she came near she nodded to the silent figure standing at my shoulder that had been guarding the building which contained my room.  He returned the nod before turning and walking back the way I had come.  Obviously, he was going to resume his post, having seen me to where I needed to be.  The woman who faced me now pulled back her hood and slid down the mask covering the bottom half of her face, once again presenting the contrast of beauty and grave, tightly controlled, fury.

“I am Malice.”  She began.  “You will address me as such, with no honorific.  I don't enjoy titles.  They are pretentious and wasteful.”  Her black eyes glanced over me, assimilating my entire condition quickly.  “You are prompt, which is a trait I can appreciate, but you fail in all other regards.  You are skinny, weak, slow, and you lack confidence as well as grace of movement.  Of those I've trained you are, undoubtedly, the worst.  On top of that, you are currently injured.  Have I missed anything?”

I opened my mouth to reply, to argue that I was not so completely unfit and worthless, but I closed it quickly.  The truth of the matter was that I had never needed to do physical chores or labor.  I could read and write fluently; not a common skill, but I would likely lose a physical confrontation with most men of my age.  As pained as I was to admit it, I was every bit the lost cause she'd just described.  I thought for a moment more and decided to add to the list, "I've also never so much as held a sword, or found myself in a position where I had to physically compete with another person.”

Malice nodded, a less than friendly smile on her face.  “Do you still plan on being the best?  You don't even know what you're attempting to become the best at...”  Bringing up my words from the night before raised my ire but I bit it back, knowing there was little I could do to defend myself in the current situation.  She was stronger, faster, and had a sharper tongue than I did.  The most I could accomplish would be to make myself look more foolish, though I felt that would be difficult to achieve at that moment.  “Hmmph, at least you know when to keep your mouth shut.  That is a trait in short supply.”  She approached me, coming within just a few inches, bending over so that her eyes were level with mine.  I was beginning to grasp the nature of this woman and so I resisted the inclination to take a step backward.  I held my ground.  She came closer, so close that I thought for a moment she might brush her lips against mine.  Instead, I felt her hand go up the side of my shirt and this time I really did step back, or attempt to.  She grabbed me fiercely and held me in place with one arm while the other pulled my shirt up and my pants down.  I struggled uselessly in her grip, but there was no look of strain on her features, and her arm never wavered.  She was, I realized belatedly, looking at the wounds along the side of my body.  After a moment she let me go, apparently having seen what she wanted to.  With no shortage of embarrassment I pulled my clothes back on, muttering random curses under my breath, some I'd never said aloud and some few of which I didn't even know the meaning.

She ignored me.  “We'll have your stitches out today.  Tonight I will send some equipment to your room and I want you fully geared and here at the same time tomorrow morning.”  She turned her back to me as she finished talking.  “Ethaniel has come to see you.  He'll be ready to meet with you at noon today.  Silent, the Knight who guards your room, will take you to see him at the appropriate time.  I recommend being prompt.  Ethaniel is a busy man, and not a patient one.  Other than that, the rest of the day is yours.  I recommend you use it to do what you will, because after today your time is mine and I believe you've a measure of what that will be like.”  With those parting words, she walked away, leaving me to my embarrassment and the cool morning air.

I made my way back to the building that contained my room, doing my best to contain the anger and shame I felt.  I dreaded the thought of having to deal with Malice day after day for what could be a very long two years, if Kyeia's prediction about my training was correct.  Kyeia had never come back to see me the day before and though it had not surprised me, I was distressed.  I desperately wanted to speak with her again, to apologize for ignoring her the day before.  I wondered if she would even bother coming back at all.  I supposed that her responsibility to me had ended when we reached wherever it was that we had reached.  Even as that thought occurred to me, I realized that I still had no idea where I was.  I would have to ask next time there was someone around who might answer a question for me.  Maybe, I thought, whoever Ethaniel was, he would be able to tell me.  He must be someone important.  Even Malice had spoken his name in reverent terms, and she struck me as the type who was reverent of very few.

When I reached the building that contained my room, Silent, as Malice had called him, was standing in his place at the door frame.  He nodded his head to me as I came into range, but made no other move.  I stopped before entering the building, “Thank you for seeing me safely to my destination.”  I told him, to which he nodded again, and I thought there may have been a smile beneath his hood and veil.  Silent, it seemed, was true to his name, for he uttered not a sound.  He was not hostile toward me and I was relieved for that.  Silent made me almost believe that the Black-Eyed Devils might have something in common with humans after all.  If some of them could smile, perhaps they weren't all frightening monsters.  Malice on the other hand.... I retired to my room, exhausted from a sleepless night.  The bed was welcoming, the blankets a warm invitation that I had no intention of passing up.  I kicked off my boots and sunk into sleep.  It came to me mercifully quickly.

I awoke to a firm pressure on my shoulder. I turned to see what it was and came face to face with Kyeia.  She was leaning over the bed, her arm extended to nudge me awake.  I smiled as I saw her, for I had thought it unlikely that I would ever encounter her again.  If nothing else, her presence there proved she was a far better person than I.  I reached out and touched her arm as she withdrew it from my shoulder.

“I am happy to see you again," I told her, wanting her to know that ignoring her the day before had been a foolish act on my part.  I supposed that apologizing may have been a better reaction but I wasn't sure how to go about doing that.  She withdrew her arm from my hand and took a quick step back, a faint blush coming to her face.

“What are you talking about?”  She said.  She sounded flustered.  “Of course you were going to see me again.  There is still much we have to accomplish.”  She pulled her hood up around her face and turned slightly away from me, I thought, so that I couldn't see the color in her cheeks.

“There was always the chance you might have decided I wasn't worth the bother.  I know that I have been a lot of trouble.”  I spoke honestly, though I felt a fool for doing so.

She sighed deeply.  “Yes, you have been a great deal of trouble so far, Lowin, but I do not believe you're intentionally trying to make things difficult.  Now, get ready to go. You have an appointment with Ethaniel in ten minutes and we shouldn't be late.”

If she saw my look of surprise she didn't show it.  That I had slept so much of the day away startled me.  I noticed then that there was a serving tray on my desk and a wash basin, evidence that I had indeed slept through a great deal.  I went about cleaning myself up as much as possible and grabbed a piece of bread from my tray, knowing I had time for nothing else.  That finished, I put my boots on in a rush.  Once I was ready to go, Kyeia opened the door to my room and I followed her out.  Silent was standing beyond my door and he joined Kyeia and me as we began our walk to the place where I was to meet Ethaniel.  The world beyond my building was now brightly lit by the sun and seemed a completely different place than that I'd seen in the darkness of the early morning.  I could now make out the full size of the compound and it was quite large.  The wall around the perimeter stood some thirty feet high, and was wide enough to allow two men to walk abreast.  It was dotted with guards, some of human stock, some in the shifting cloaks of the Black-Eyed Devils.  I wanted to ask Kyeia how many of these Devils there were, but I didn't want to offend our other companion so I held my tongue.  The grounds were well kept and the compound was comprised of no less than thirty individual buildings spread in a circular pattern about the grounds such that the great manor was in the center of it all.

From my perspective, the manor was just short of being a full-fledged castle.  It lacked a moat and seemed built with more of an eye for style than a castle, but it was a close thing.  The slotted windows of the manor started what looked like three floors from the ground level and there were a great many towers and parapets about the structure.  The front door was an immense wood structure with a portcullis, which was raised, in front of that.  Standing before the door were two Black-Eyed Devils, each with a long spear in hand.  I paid special attention to the hands that protruded from the shifting cloaks and found myself surprised again.  One of the Devils had an arm like Tempest and Malice, but the other, whom I thought might be female, though it was hard to judge when fully vested in cloak, hood and mask, had what looked like the arm of a dragon.  It was black, scaled, ending in a terrible claw, but most certainly distinct from the type of forelimbs I'd seen so far.  I stored this information away inside my head, keeping it for when it might be needed again.  I felt that these differences were part of a puzzle I was, as of yet, unable to ascertain the nature of.  The guards at the gate didn't even shift stance as we passed them, but the impressive wood doors swung back to permit us entrance.  I found myself wishing that I'd had time to ask Kyeia about this “Ethaniel” person we were going to meet.  It was likely that I would know for myself before long, but had I been wiser I might have gone forward with some knowledge.

Silent took the lead as we entered and Kyeia fell in at my shoulder.  The manor seemed mostly empty, though I did see a few house-keepers working as we moved through the lush interior.  Whoever had built the place had spared no expense.  Every hall and room appeared to be carpeted and you couldn't go more than a few feet without seeing some new tapestry or antiquity.  I was so caught up in my surroundings that I barely noticed that Silent had come to a stop at a large oak door.  I very nearly walked into him but Kyeia grabbed my hand and I stopped just in time.  I looked at her and found that she was looking up into my eyes.  I still had trouble judging her expressions, her strange purple eyes throwing off my ability to read her intent, but I did sense that she was worried about something.  She gave my hand a light squeeze and I returned it.  She then pulled her hand from mine as the door in front of us swung open and Silent ushered us inside.

The room we stepped into was no less extravagant than any of the others we'd been through on our march into the manor but this one did have a “lived in” feel the others did not.  There was a grand table in the room, easily large enough to seat fifteen people, though only three seats surrounded it.  It was crafted of some dark wood I did not recognize and had great, thick legs that swirled down to the floor in intricate patterns.  Atop it was a mess of maps, scrolls and opened books.  The walls were lined with shelves that were full of tomes, more than I had ever seen in a private residence.  While all that the room was magnificent; the most outstanding feature was the figure looking through one of the slotted windows to the compound beyond.  I guessed we were four stories up, though I hadn't bothered to keep track of them as we ascended into the building.  I admit this lapse in memory was due to my fearful anticipation of the meeting with Ethaniel.  If this man was he, then I realized that Ethaniel, to my complete surprise, was not a human.  He was a Black-Eyed Devil, and he was the first of his kind that I had ever seen without the shifting cloak that seemed to mark his people.  He was massive.  He stood at least a foot taller than I, his shoulders broad enough that I guessed he would need to go sideways through most doors.  His powerful arms were, like Tempest's and Malice's, fur-clad and ended in mighty claws.  His legs - and this was the first I'd really seen of any of the Devils' legs - were fur-clad up to the point where they vanished into his pants, and they were bent back at the knee like those of a great wolf.  From his head rose the ears of a wolf as well, large and pointed, twitching attentively at the sounds of our entry.   At his back were folded massive, leathery wings that I had originally taken to be a cloak of some type.  He turned as we entered, and there were more strange features to be seen.  At first I thought his cheeks were hollowed and gaunt, but in a moment I realized that he had pits there, like those found on certain vipers in the wild.  His eyes were different as well, but only subtly so.  They appeared black at first glance, but in a moment I realized they were also a deep blue color, so dark that it was hard to tell them from any other Devil's.  I tried to fit Ethaniel into the image of the Black-Eyed Devils' race that I'd been trying to build, but, yet again, I found that I couldn't draw any conclusions from what I'd seen so far.

His human features were well drawn.  He had a noble jaw line, and his tussled, medium length, black hair hung about his face in a roguish way that I was positive would have had human women clambering for his attention if not for his more startling, alien features.  If the standards of man applied, I thought, he was probably very popular among the female Devils.  He approached me slowly from across the room and I couldn't but help stare at the way his legs moved beneath him, balancing his weight with a seamless grace.  I could tell, without knowing why, that he was capable of moving at startling speeds, like Tempest had during his fight with the Shao Geok.  Graceful though he was, I could sense that he was using a perfected control to keep himself moving slowly.  As he came within range of me he extended one of his massive, clawed hands in my direction.  I reached my own hand out, and watched it disappear in the clasp of the much larger man.

“I am Ethaniel, head of the Knights of Ethan, Lowin Fenly.  It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  As he spoke I could see rows of razor teeth, like those Tempest had displayed and I could hear the harmonic timbre of a voice that had the same power to strike fear into others.  There was, however, a restraint to Ethaniel's voice that hadn't been present in Tempest.

“It is my pleasure to meet you, Sir Ethaniel," I said sincerely, offering my best bow.  Being near Ethaniel gave me the distinct feeling that I was in the presence of a legend.  It seemed as though history was being created in his wake, and while I was near him I was a part of that unfolding history.

Ethaniel smiled a toothy smile.  “Among the Knights, we do not use titles often.  They are unnecessary.  A man who does not respect another will show disrespect with or without a title.  A man who wishes to show respect simply does so through his actions.”  Ethaniel's gaze turned to Silent and Kyeia.  “Silent, you may wait outside.  I will send these two back out when I'm finished with them.”  Silent bowed, and stepped back out of the room, closing the door behind him.  “Kyeia, I am surprised to see that you chose to come this meeting.  The Bound generally do not.”  I turned to Kyeia and saw her stiffen momentarily, but Ethaniel continued, “Of course, I will not ask you to leave.  It is refreshing to see you show an interest in Lowin.  I have long said that forming a bond was important to the process.”  Kyeia visibly relaxed.  This conversation went over my head, and though I wanted to ask what was transpiring, I knew that it was not appropriate for me to intervene.  It seemed that it was never appropriate for me to ask questions.  My lack of knowledge was troubling to me, and these secrets all about me felt overwhelming.

Ethaniel turned back to me.  “I'm sure you're feeling quite estranged, cast adrift in a violent sea with no shore in sight.  I wish I could say that you have nothing to worry about, but that would be a lie.  I'm not in the habit of lying, Lowin.  I have done some terrible things over the long course of my life but there are two things I will not do.  The first: I will never abandon a companion to an enemy.  The second: I will never tell you something I know to be false.  It would be nice to have more to stand by, but those are what I have.”  He spoke sincerely, and with the grace of a man who has given many speeches to many men over the years.  “Allow me to tell you a little about why you are here.”  He motioned to the seats around the table, and waited for Kyeia and me to sit down before taking a seat himself.

I awaited his words with something close to desperation.  There had been far too few answers so far.  Once Ethaniel had made himself comfortable, he began to speak, “As you should have already been informed, you are here because you are possessed of a special characteristic that makes you quite valuable to your kingdom.  What has not been explained to you is what exactly is implied by your special characteristic.”  His blue-black eyes met mine, and I felt their full weight brought to bear on me.  “What do you think of the Knights of Ethan?”  He asked.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase my feelings.  “They... they're terrifying, Ethaniel.  I mean you no disrespect, but you and your people frighten me.”

Ethaniel chuckled.  “Of course we do, we're fearsome, inhuman beasts.  We're the Black-Eyed Devils, right?”  He asked with a note of humor in his voice.  I wasn't sure how to reply, because that was exactly how I had thought of them since first meeting Tempest.  I nodded dumbly.  “It is true, in its own way.”  He said before proceeding.  “We are, however, not so strange as we might seem, Lowin.  You see us in our shifting cloaks, stalking about with our fearsome features and terrible power, and are rightly intimidated.  However - and remember that I do not lie, I tell you now that we almost all began our days as humans.”

My eyes widened in shock.  “What?  How could that be, you're all...”

“Monsters?”  Ethaniel asked.  “Only on the outside.  Most of us come from human stock, and we remain human in mind.  Some of our numbers, very few of us, come from Kyeia's people, but that is a story for a different time.”  My mind was making connection quickly now, putting pictures together that it didn't necessarily wish to see.  I had been brought to this place, amidst the Black-Eyed Devils, for a very special type of training.  The Black-Eyed Devils were somehow created from men.

My mouth spoke the thought as my mind grasped it.  “I'm to become a Black-Eyed Devil?”

Ethaniel shook his head.  “No, Black-Eyed Devils are foolish legends.  You are to become the reality, a Knight of Ethan, first among the greatest platoons in service to your king.”

I was lost somewhere between wonder and horror.  I was in wonder to discover that I would become something as powerful as Tempest, or Malice, but, at the same time, I found myself horrified at the changes I would need to undergo to achieve that.  “How is this even possible?”  I asked.

“That is one question that it is not time to answer.  Suffice it to say, you will undergo thorough training to prepare you for the trials ahead.  Becoming a Knight is a difficult process.  It is so arduous that no few of us have died in the process and that is after succeeding in the early tests.”  His voice was calm but behind it I could sense the weight of a difficult past.  Ethaniel was no mere figure head to his Knights. He was the best of them and had suffered as they all had.  “I make it a point to meet all of the new prospects, Lowin, and I have been assured, repeatedly, that you are something special.  I can see it in you, young one, but it is all potential.  As you stand right now, you will have a hard fight ahead.  What you choose to make of yourself from here will depend entirely on how hard you are willing to push yourself forward.”

I shook my head, as if in doing so I might cast aside the madness of the world I suddenly found myself in and return my life to what it had been before, "What if I do not wish to become a Knight of Ethan?”

Ethaniel actually laughed at this, though I'd feared he might have lashed out at me in anger.  “I'm afraid that you have already begun down the path and you can't turn back now.  Your king has need of you more now than ever in the past and he will not let you simply walk away.”  The Knight's eyes took on a distant look, “Would that we could change our fates and live as the rest of the world....”  He was silent for a moment before continuing, “That is not our lot in life, though.  Once your training is done you will be given time to roam the world as you like, to learn and train in any way that you wish.  I will tell you this though, every one of us has come back in the end and most choose not to leave at all.”

I took a deep breath, gathering my nerves about me.  The revelations of the day were far harder to accept than I could have anticipated.  I, a simple loremaster's apprentice, was to become a warrior of legendary power in service to the king, a sovereign I knew of only by reputation.  The king had always been a far distant figure, someone who held no sway over my day to day existence.  Of course I felt some responsibility toward him, as any citizen of the kingdom would, but he had always been an enigmatic figure, simply a silhouette on the currency.  In the span of few minutes, everything had changed.

“For now you'd best concern yourself with your immediate future.  You will be here, at Fell Rock Post, for at least a year.”  That was the first time I'd heard anyone mention the name of where I was, and I was surprised when I didn't recognize it.  I had thought the trip from my home had been only a day long, but I couldn't account for the time I'd been unconscious before waking in the carriage.  Apparently we had traveled much further than I thought.  Ethaniel continued.  “Your time here will help shape you into that which you wish to become.  If you work hard, you will be great, if you don't...”  He let the words trail off ominously.

I was thinking of the trip to reach Fell Rock Post, and it suddenly occurred to me that I had not, yet, heard anything to do with the betrayal mentioned by Tempest and Kyeia after the attack on the carriage.  I decided to try probing for more information.  “What of the enemy I've heard mentioned?  What is the nature of those who oppose the king?”

“Hmmm,” Ethaniel seemed to be mulling over that line of questioning.  I guessed he was deciding how much to tell me, and while I would have preferred to know everything, I felt that any answer was better than none.  “Our enemy is powerful, and it is true that he has spies within the highest levels of our government.  The attack on yourself and your protectors was unprecedented.  It was not, entirely, unanticipated, but nothing of its like has ever occurred in the past.  As I told you before, the kingdom is in the most precarious position it has been in, in a very long time.  The populace does not know it but we have already had several skirmishes along our borders and there have been four attempts on the life of our king.  Each attempt has resulted in the death of a highly trained enemy assassin and such skilled killers do not come without exceptional cost.”

He didn't come right out and say it, but he was implying that whoever was opposing the king possessed resources and dedication to their cause; otherwise they would not have put so much effort and expense to the task.  That meant that the opposition was greater than a few dis-satisfied members of the High Court.  It was possible that one of the neighboring nations had grown disgruntled about their borders and was trying to expand their territory into human lands.

“We stand at the cusp of war and every Knight of Ethan is an important asset to the kingdom.  The attack on you was significant because it was directed at one of our rarest resources.  Currently we have less than three hundred Knights of Ethan in service.  While that may sound like an impressive number when you consider our power, we are not immortal and in a great battle every one of us can make a great difference.  Losing one of our number hurts our forces more than any of us would like to admit,” the massive warrior finished.

I nodded my head, understanding all too well the position I was now in.  I had become an important military asset and that meant my life was no longer my own.  Ethaniel must have noticed a look of distress on my face, though I hadn't intended to have one, because he softened his tone.  “There are advantages to being a Knight, Lowin.  We do not lead empty lives.  There is a great deal of reward and satisfaction to be had in fighting for your country and your king.”

Kyeia spoke, and for a moment it startled me.  I had almost forgotten she was sitting at my side, so lost was I in thoughts of my own.  “You are destined for greatness, Lowin.  I know it.”

Ethan chuckled.  “At least you will have support on your path.”  His expression sobered a little, though the slight smile on his face didn't falter.  “I am eager, too, to see what becomes of Lowin Fenly.”  He stood from the table and I took that to mean that I should as well.  Kyeia stood at my side.  Ethaniel, once again, reached his hand out to me, and I took it in my own, this time making sure to hold his powerful claw firmly in my tiny human hand.  “It will be a long while before we meet again, young Lowin.  Train hard.”

I was surprised.  I had expected Ethaniel to be around during my training for some reason.  “You will be leaving Fell Rock?”  I asked, though the answer was already apparent.

“Yes, I came only to see you before your training begins.  I try to do so for all initiates.  I'm afraid time no longer permits me to be around for all of your training.  I trust you are in good hands, though.  Malice, the dire-wolf-bitch in Knight guise, is quite efficient at making people reach their potential.  She fights like a demon, too.  Learn well from her.  Listen to what she doesn't tell you, more than what she does.  That's the best advice I can offer.”  The Knight turned to Kyeia and bowed.  “Watch young Lowin, Kyeia.  Keep him strong and on course and try not to let the future he doesn't control mar him in your eyes.”  Kyeia smiled, the sadness I'd seen often on her features, lurking just beneath.

“I will not.”  She said solemnly.  Ethaniel turned then, returning to his window, and I understood that our meeting was over.

...Try not to let the future he doesn't control mar him in your eyes.  I couldn't begin to understand what Ethaniel meant by that, but it bothered me.  As we left the room and rejoined Silent in the hall beyond, I moved close to Kyeia, and opened my mouth to ask her just what had been meant by that cryptic phrase.  She seemed to sense the question coming though, and put a finger up and covered my lips, as she'd done to me once before when she didn't want me to ask a question.  “Don't worry about it, Lowin.  It is nothing to be concerned about.”  She smiled at me, and though it was a warm smile, I saw it for what it was- a mask put on for my benefit, to cover up what she was really feeling.  I let it go, but at the same time I decided that I would not let it go indefinitely.  I would know what was bothering her, so that I might find some way to help her.

I was at the training yard the following morning well before dawn.  I didn't, however, beat Malice to the field.  This time she was already waiting, crouched down in her shifting cloak, for me when I arrived.  I approached her with no little trepidation, never quite certain what she would do from moment to moment.  I took heart in Ethaniel's praise of her abilities from the day before, but still I feared her temper and vicious tongue.  She stood as I approached, uncoiling like a serpent until she reached her full, impressive height.  I stood quietly, waiting for whatever might come next.  Silent was somewhere behind me, having followed me from my room out to the practice field.  I was happy for his friendly company, even if he had little to say.  I knew he wouldn't stick around long - he had other things to attend to - but at least he was a comforting companion for the initial meeting with my rage-filled instructor.

The tall female warrior chose not to comment on whether I was early, late, or how long she'd been outside waiting for me.  “Today we will be ascertaining your current level of skill in multiple areas.”  Her voice was crisp and authoritative.  She was obviously familiar with the role of command.  “I will expect you to keep going until you believe you cannot, at which point I will force you to go until I believe that you are unable to go any further.  If you are smart, you will not allow for much discrepancy between those two points.”  She turned away from me than and began walking.  I fell in behind her, not sure what else to do.

“We will start with a test of your balance.”  She led me to a strange set up of narrow poles protruding from the ground at varying heights, anywhere from a couple of inches, to nearly seven feet in height.  The poles were circular, rounded at the top and no wider than a palm's width across.  There were hundreds of them stretched out over thirty yards of area, irregularly placed so that they looked like some strange forest of topless trees.  She stepped onto the first one, and then another, maneuvering through the field of truncated trees without breaking her pace at all, seeming to not even watch her feet as she moved.  When she reached the far end she turned to me and held up her hands, as if asking, “Well?”  I took a deep breath and stepped up on to the nearest pole.  It was about knee high, and as I got my right foot onto it I realized that it would be nearly impossible to get my left up as well.  I sent my left out searching for another pole and found one, but not without some considerable effort and wind milling of my arms to keep my balance.  It was still dark outside and that wasn't making things any easier.  I tried to lift my right foot again, to move it to the next closest pole, but as I did, my weight suddenly found that it had nowhere to go and I fell to the ground, my left foot sliding from its precarious position.  The fall wasn't far but I still managed to trip over the pole that my right foot had been on, until a moment before, and fall to my knees in the grass.

“That is the worst anyone has ever done on their first try, oaf, get back up and try again.”  Malice called from the other end of the obstacle.  I bit back my anger and climbed cautiously back onto the polls, determined not to fall so quickly again.  Once I had both feet into a starting position, I tried to move my right foot again, shifting my weight to my left in the hope of using it to anchor my movements.  It almost worked, but I moved my weight too far over my left foot and ended up falling backwards to the grass, this time hitting my head on one of the wooden poles on the way down.  I got back to my feet, meaning to try again, but before I could get my wits about myself I felt a strong push at my back and I went sprawling forward.  I turned myself back over, looking up to see Malice standing behind me, rage in her eyes.

“Where is your balance, oaf?”  She demanded.

I didn't know how to reply. This was not a question I had ever considered before.

“Are you a lost cause?  When you stand, how do you maintain your balance?  Where is the center of balance for your body?”  Her questions were pointed and angry.  In a flash she moved from where she'd been standing when she pushed me, to standing bent over me.  I felt her incredibly powerful hand grip the front of my shirt and she dragged me to my feet.  Her other hand pressed a point slightly below my navel, at first tenderly and then I felt first my clothing, followed by the skin below, tear.  She let me go, and I staggered back, reaching a hand down to my stomach and bringing it back covered in blood.  I was startled, almost terrified, but I could tell that the wound was not life-threatening, though to see so much of my own blood left me momentarily weak in the knees.

“That is where you center of balance is, though a little deeper inside.  Remember that.  Keep that point in mind when you move.  This must become second nature to you.  You must be always mindful, but never consciously so, of that point.”  Her lecture finished she remounted the poles and crossed them effortlessly.  “Now, again, and if you fail to do better this time I'll point out the exact depth of your center of balance.”  She held up her claw, my blood still dripping from it, and licked the crimson liquid from the razor-ended digit.  I made myself take a few deep, steadying breaths.  I climbed back onto the poles.  The pain of the cut on my stomach made it so that I couldn't help but be mindful of the point Malice had marked as the center of my gravity.  This time, when I went to move my right foot, I slowly leaned my body until the point of pain was above my left leg.  It was a stretch to reach that point, but once I was there it was a simple matter to move my right foot on to another pole, this one higher.  I smiled to myself, whether Malice was impressed or not I didn't care.  I had made progress.  I looked up at her for a moment, only to see that her angry expression had not changed.  I looked back down at my feet, deciding to ignore her and just get as far as I could.   That turned out to not be very far.  I managed to get two more steps, but on the third I over compensated as I took my step and fell forward into the waiting stepping poles.  The landing was hard.

As I turned to get up, Malice was there behind me again.  I felt myself shaking as she came within range of me, afraid that she would do as she'd said, and point out that deeper center of balance point.  Instead, she simply said, “Your balance is terrible.  Now we will test your reflexes.”  She turned and began walking to another area.

The sun was beginning to come up and I could see some silhouetted training equipment not too far away.  I guessed that was where she was going, and I got to my feet as fast as I could to follow her there.  When I arrived, I found myself facing a human shaped wood semblance with four paddles in place of arms.  Malice stood behind it, four levers in front of her.  I guessed at the nature of the machine before the black eyed woman even began to explain it.  “You will use your arms to block the incoming blows from the practice dummy.  I will gradually increase the speed of the blows as we go.  If you miss a block, the punishment will be to take the full blow of the paddle.”  That was all the explanation she gave, and I accepted it as more than I probably should have needed.

I stood in front of the machine, watching the four paddles that were its arms and hands intently.  From the position I was standing, I couldn't see Malice or the levers, so there was no warning when one was about to strike.  The first took me entirely by surprise.  The arm of the wood machine struck out fast, chopping towards my neck, and I had to both duck and put an arm up to stop the blow. I managed, but the second arm hit me before I could think to try and stop it.  The blow was hard enough to bruise, and I winced in pain.  The onslaught stopped, and I righted myself.

“Pay attention.”  Malice snapped.

The wooden arms came again, and this time I managed to block the first three, dodge away from the fourth, and block the fifth.  The sixth struck me hard, likely a result of my movement when I avoided the fourth.  Malice confirmed that suspicion.  “You are blocking these, not dodging them.”

This time they came faster.  I found myself hard pressed to get through them but did my best to keep pace.  I lost count of the blows after twenty, my arms moving for all they were worth, as the wooden paddles began to get even faster yet and then found myself on the ground, on my knees, my forearms the only thing between my head and the dirt.  There was something wet running down the side of my face, and I lifted one of my hands to it.  My fingers came away red.  I staggered up and saw that the dummy was no longer in front of me.  I turned around, and there it was, Malice standing beside it. One of its paddle hands had a large splotch of red on it.  I realized, then, that I must have been struck so hard that I'd spun around entirely.

“How is your head?”  Malice asked.

I squinted and touched a sore spot near the crown of my skull, and my fingers jumped away as they encountered a fierce pain.  “I think it's bleeding.”  I answered, though I felt that it was an inadequate answer.

“I'm afraid so.”  The black eyed warrior replied and there was a strange look on her face, though I couldn't quite identify it.  It was unfamiliar territory with her, but it may have been concern.  Of course that perception might also have been the result of the hit to the head I'd just taken.  She came closer to me, then and I flinched away, almost certain that she was about to lay into me for failing another test, but instead her hand went beneath her own cloak and came out with a roll of bandages.  She worked quickly, fastening a length of the wrappings about my throbbing skull.  Her work done, she returned the bandages to wherever they'd appeared from.  I was still waiting for her to yell at me about the reflex test but she didn't.  Instead she said, “Next we'll be testing your stamina.  I hope your legs are in better shape than your head.”

The track I was to run stretched around the entire area encompassing the practice field.  When I first started running, the stamina test seemed to be the easiest of those I'd taken that day, but I soon realized that I was mistaken.  By the end of the first lap I was staggering with every step and gasping for breath that the air seemed unwilling to give me.  Malice was at my side, keeping pace with no effort at all.  Her unending energy was disheartening.  “Is this all you can do?  You've only been running for three minutes.”  The look of disgust was back on her face.  “Push harder.”  I did.  My head was throbbing in time to my heartbeat, and my heart was beating three times for every fall of my foot.  I kept pushing myself.  I collapsed once, but was back up again quickly.  There comes a point when one tests their limits that the body stops functioning of natural impulse and must be driven with pure force of will.  I had reached that point.  Every lifting of my foot was a practice in mechanical planning.  I must bend the knee, tense the muscle in my thigh to draw my leaden foot from the ground, hinge the knee joint until my foot passed the grounded leg, place the heel down, and then repeat the whole process for the other leg.  Black spots began to form on my vision and suddenly my legs wouldn't respond to my commands anymore.  I hit the low trimmed grass of the track with a great deal of force and rolled a few feet.  I hadn't made two full circuits of the track.  For all the effort I'd given, I was only three-fourths of the way around the track for the second time.

I heard the soft padding of Malice's feet approaching, and looked over in time to see her wolf-esque paws carrying her towards me.  “Again, you disappoint.  Most others make at least two and a half circuits before I need to coerce them to push harder.  You are completely spent in less than two.  At this rate, you will never amount to anything.”  I felt something hit me in the chest, not hard, and I looked down to see what it was.  It turned out to be a water-skin.  I grabbed it, removed the cork, and put the narrow opening to my lips as quickly as I could.  The cool liquid sent a surge of pleasure through my body, as I realized for the first time just how badly I'd needed a drink.  I was covered in sweat, my shirt soaked most of the way through, and all that liquid had come from my body's stores.  I handed the skin back to Malice after taking a couple more deep drags.

“Come, let us see how dexterous you are.”  I had a hard time getting back to my feet, but I managed, after a moment of struggle.  Once I was standing, I felt as though a strong breeze might knock me over. I had never been so exhausted in all of my life.  I fell in behind Malice and followed her to the next test.  We again approached a set of practice dummies.  These particular wooden figures were operated by some mechanical means that I couldn't identify.  They had complicated joints for arms that connected to chain flails.  Once activated, the dummies began to swing their chain arms in a hypnotic and shifting pattern of movements.  Malice handed me one of two practice swords she'd pulled from a storage shed near this particular test.

“The object of this challenge is to score as many hits as you can on the body of the practice dummy.  You have ten attempts to score a hit, and your score will be marked out of ten.  The dummy is equipped with bells that will chime when you succeed in hitting its body.”  She spun her own sword in her hand and approached the dummy.  There was a blur of motion from Malice, and I heard three distinctive rings.  A second later, there was another blur accompanied by four more rings.  Once more her practice wand blurred and there were three more chimes.  “That is how it's done.”  She said simply.  “Of course, I hardly expect you to score multiple hits on each attempt.  Begin.”  She stepped out of the way, her eyes falling on me with a look that was a mixture of judgment and expectation.  I was certain she expected me to fail again.

I approached this new test with some caution.  The last of these wooden dummies had very nearly brained me and I was not sure if I trusted this one to be any gentler.  I held the wooden sword in front of me and stepped closer, trying to make out some pattern in the way the arms weaved.  I thought I saw an opening for a moment and I charged in with the wood blade.  The chains of the flailing dummy knocked my sword from my hand and it sailed several body-lengths away.  I was forced to recover it before making my next attempt and I could feel the burning eyes of Malice upon me the entire time.  The second time, I watched more closely and I began to notice that there were holes, small, barely larger than the width of the practice weapon I held, in the defensive pattern of my chain wielding, wooden foe.  These holes opened and closed, leaving enough time for a deft strike of the weapon.  I readied my weapon, preparing to strike at the next such opening.  The wait was difficult, but when the opening came I stabbed as fast as I dared.  I felt the crack of my wooden weapon hitting the chain all the through my arm, into my shoulder and up into my neck.  My practice sword spun away to the ground.  I had failed again.

“How do you expect to strike a straight blow, if you let the forward movement of your sword over-extend your balance?  Your sword point will dip if you do not counter balance it with your body.  You can see the gaps, now apply your dexterity and strike at them, oaf.  This is a simple exercise.”  Malice's words were as hard-edged as ever and they made me angry.  Keeping my temper under control was difficult.  If I hadn't been so afraid of her, I may not have been able to do it.  I gathered my weapon from the ground and approached the target again.  The holes in the defense came in a repeating pattern.  I could see it now, on my third attempt.  They were timed so that, if you approached them quickly enough, you could gain multiple strikes in a sequence, as Malice had done.  There was simply no way I could do four, or even three, as she had, but I wondered if I could make two.  It would be hard.  My timing would have to be perfect.  I steadied the practice sword in my hand and prepared for my next attempt.

My opening appeared and I took it, remembering to balance my blade, as well as I could, with the rest of my body.  I almost made my first strike, but my weapon was clipped at the last moment and ripped from my hand.  It had been caught on the left side, the side of the opening that would lead to my second strike.  I had anticipated it too much, been too close to that side in preparation for my second hit.  If I had been trying for a single strike, I would have had it.  I grit my teeth, recovered my weapon, and prepared to go again.  “Concentrate, oaf.”  Malice snapped from off to the side.  I waited, biding my time for the opening I needed.  It was only a matter of seconds, but it felt much longer.  The opening came, I made my strike again, and again I was too far to the left.  My weapon spun to the ground behind me and I heard a great sigh from Malice.

“Worthless.” Was all she said.

I retrieved my weapon and tried again to the same result.  Malice was growing more and more agitated, but I had no intention of giving her what she wanted.  I knew, now, that I could make a single hit if I wanted to.  It would be easy.  I wouldn't be satisfied with that, though.  I wanted a double hit.  I tried again, and failed again.  I kept failing until the tenth time.  I stood addressing the dummy for what I knew was my final run.  I had been close on the ninth.  In fact, I had rung the first target, though Malice had informed me that it didn't matter if I rang it if I lost my weapon in the process, which I had done.  I would not do so on my tenth run, I told myself.  I waited.

The opening came and I sprang into action.  The first note rang out, and I forced my muscles to move beyond their limits to make the second hit.  It rang and I began to withdraw my sword.  Just as I was almost out of the dummy's range one of its chain arms struck my weapon.  It did not knock the weapon from my hand, but it knocked the point to the ground, and I knew the hit of the chain meant that all my work would be for naught.

“How long have you been trying to hit both targets, Lowin?”  Malice asked, and I couldn't read her voice.  She sounded angry, but then again she always sounded angry.

“Since my third attempt.”  I replied, feeling the color come to my cheeks.  It was bad enough that I had failed, but worse that I had been called out on it.

“Well you scored no countable hits.  Had you simply gone for single hits, you might not be the worst trainee I've ever tested in dexterity.  As you stand now, your score is lower than any other person to have taken this test.”  Malice turned her back.  “Put up the practice equipment and return to your room.  I'll expect you back here an hour after noon meal.  You're going to need extensive amounts of training before you're even passably skilled and we had better start as soon as we can.”  She walked away and I was left alone, tired, my arm numb from the multiple hits to my practice weapon by the chain arms of the practice dummy.  I wanted to feel some satisfaction at making the two strikes on the practice dummy, but I couldn't.  In the end, despite all my effort, I had failed pretty spectacularly.  I wondered if they would tell Kyeia how badly I'd done.  She believed in me, I didn't want her to feel ashamed.   I trudged back to my room, broken and beaten.  Silent was at the door to the building I was staying in.  As I walked past him he put a hand on my shoulder, I looked at him, and there was a smile on his face.  He tilted his head and grabbed my arm, leading me inside.  I followed him, not really in any mood to argue.  He led me to the end of the hall and pushed open the final door on the right side of the wall.  Inside was a large room, with a couple large baths located around the edges.  He showed me to one of the vessels and started twisting some levers on the edge of the basin that were connected to metal pipes that came in from outside.  After a moment of adjusting the knobs, warm water began to run out of a spigot into the tub.  I smiled at Silent.

“Thank you. I certainly could use a bath.”  I said.

He shrugged, gave a half grin, and walked out of the room.

The warm water went a long way towards easing the pains that I'd acquired in the early morning.  I soaked for the better part of an hour, until Silent came back to bring me a fresh set of clothes.  He left them by the bath and took my dirty clothes outside, where I briefly heard the voice of Merrywin before the door shut again.  I pulled myself from the cooling water with some reluctance and released the plug in the bottom of the basin.  There were towels hung on racks along the wall and I used one of these to dry myself off before putting on my change of clothes.  The outfit was identical to the one I'd just removed.  Dressed and in some semblance of order, I left the lavatory and made my way back to my room.  The hall was conspicuously empty and when I got into my room I found that my lunch had already been left for me.  Merrywin had come and gone in the time I'd spent in the wash room.  I devoured the meal, slices of meat, cheese, and bread quickly, finding that I was ravenously hungry.  As I finished the last of my food, I fell back on to my bed and stared up at the ceiling.  My head was throbbing, and I was aware that I shouldn't sleep after having taken such a severe blow to the skull.  My injured side was also hurting.  The skin there was only freshly healing and it didn't like the aggressive workout it had already been given once that day.  I certainly didn't want to go back out and do more, but I knew that I had no say in the matter.  I supposed, at the very least, I could look forward to the change of scenery.  I sighed heavily, thinking back on my days failures.  I would have to do better in the future.  Kyeia had too much faith in me for me to do less than my best.

As if summoned by my thoughts, there was a knock on my door, and a moment later Kyeia stepped into the room, even as I was sitting up in bed.  I briefly saw the shifting cloak of Silent behind her and then the door was shut again.  She was dressed as she usually was, in a simple dress of white fabric, but her cloak and its hood were entirely absent.  It was the first time that I'd seen her that way, and I was startled by how young she looked when I could really see her.  If she were human, I would have guessed her age to be somewhere in the realm of fourteen or fifteen.  Her figure was slender, but filling out in the pleasant ways of girls near my age.  I felt heat rising to my cheeks and turned my head away. It wasn't right for me to look at her in such a way, even if we were close in age, and I couldn't even be sure of that since I knew nothing of her people, the Uliona. I was hardly a worthy contender for anyone's affections.

Too my surprise, Kyeia rushed across the room and threw her arms about me, her cheek, so warm and soft, pressing against my own fiery face.  I was at a loss for what to say.  I felt a wetness where her skin touched mine, and realized that there were tears running down her face.  I was startled.

“Kyeia, are you alright?” I asked, taking her shoulders in my hands and pushing her away from me.  She was smiling, and it wasn't a slight smile either.  There was such warmth and pleasure in her mysterious purple eyes, and in her brilliant upturned mouth, that I hardly knew what to think.

“I'm brilliant!”  She said excitedly.  “I heard about your tests today and I came to tell you how proud I am of you.”  She seemed sincere, but I felt a sudden surge of doubt.

“Kyeia, I failed all of the tests.  In fact, Malice told me I did worse than any one she'd ever trained before.”  I didn't want to tell her the truth, but I couldn't stand to sit there and lie to her, not when the subject was so important to her.

Kyeia laughed, somewhere between a giggle and a full bout of laughter.  “Malice will never compliment you, Lowin, but you impressed her enough that she made a special report to Ethaniel before he left today.  You excelled far beyond average in both the reflexes and dexterity challenges, and while you were very weak in the other two tests, you showed determination above and beyond what is expected for one of your background.”

I shook my head in confusion, not sure what to make of what Kyeia was telling me.  “That can't be right.  On the reflexes test I was nearly brained by the practice dummy and I didn't score a single countable hit on the dexterity challenge.”

Kyeia just smiled and stood up, straightening her dress, and wiping her damp eyes.  “Only one other person has scored higher on their first reflex test, Lowin, and that was Malice herself.  She had combat training before she joined the Knights, and still only beat you by one connection.  As for your dexterity test, no one who hasn't risen to full knighthood has ever made multiple hits in one attack on the practice dummy.  Not a single person, Lowin.  You were amazing!”

I wasn't sure what to say, or how to feel about suddenly knowing that I had not failed entirely.  I felt a mix of pride and accomplishment, but at the same time I knew that I still had a very long way to go.  I had achieved only a small victory and, for all that I had done well on two tests, I had done exceedingly poorly on the other two.  I did not feel that it was time to celebrate yet.  At the same time, I was happy that Kyeia was pleased.  I had been worried about disappointing her almost as much as I'd been worried about having to go outside and face Malice again, which was still a task I didn't relish.

I found myself at a loss for words.  Compliments were not a common occurrence for me, and I was unsure how to take Kyeia's outpouring of enthusiasm.  “I still have a long way to go.  I'm clumsy, and tire quickly.”  I admitted, deciding the truth was the best route.

“You'll get better, Lowin.”  She replied.

“Would you like some water?”  I offered, lifting the jug that had been provided with my meal and noting that it was not very full.  Still, I felt awkward not having anything to offer my company.  I certainly hadn't left any food.  In fact, I still felt a pang of hunger, though it was nothing debilitating.

“No, but thank you.”  She walked over and sat down on the bed next to me.  “When we first went looking for you, I wasn't entirely sure what sort of person you'd be.”  Her voice was soft, and pleasant, and I found myself falling into its alien rhythm.  “The moment I saw you though, I just knew that you were good.”  She laughed, and it was like a soft warm rain on a summer day, refreshing and light.  “That sounds stupid, but I don't know how else to say it.  I still had my doubts, at first, but when you jumped from the carriage to attack the Shao Geok that was coming for us, I was certain that you were possessed of an incredible strength.”  She turned her head, looking closely at me, and I found myself lost in the depths of her eyes.  There was a warmth between us, a connection on multiple levels that I could sense, but didn't know how to fully appreciate.  Before I knew what was coming, she leaned towards me and placed her lips against mine.  There was a blast of fire through my body, spreading from my lips, and I felt myself leaning into the kiss, wanting never to part my lips from hers.  From so close, I could smell the essence of some sweet flower, subtle but unmistakable.  I opened my eyes, only just realizing that I had closed them, and saw that hers were still closed.  There was a beautiful pink cast to her pale skin and I felt, in that moment, that no woman would ever look as beautiful.  She pulled away then and I felt my heart go with her.  Her eyes came open, and she turned her face partially away, her cheeks shifting from pink to red.

“I'm not supposed to do that.”  She said, a bit breathlessly.  “I shouldn't even come here as often as I do.”

I reached out to her, put my arm about her shoulders, and drew her close to me, brushing her bright red cheek with my lips.   “I don't understand anything about the rules, or how things work here, but if you didn't come back to see me, I would have no reason to bother waking up from day to day.”  I didn't know the truth in those words until I spoke them.  It is strange the way your mind can occasionally work out complex problems without ever letting on to the rest of you exactly what has happened.

She looked at me again, her mouth so close that I could feel her breath as she spoke.  “Then I suppose I shall have to keep coming, but Lowin...”

I waited for a moment, and then said, “Yes?”

“Don't let them know that I... that I care for you so much.  It's forbidden.”  Her words sent a chill down my back, but I wasn't sure why.  I wanted to ask.  At that moment, I should have asked.  Instead, I simply promised that I would never tell another soul, so long as she would continue to come and see me when she had the chance.  I think I would have made any promise imaginable in order to continue feeling the warmth that had enveloped my entire being.  I'd often heard it said, but had never really understood what was meant, that love will take you when you least expect it and consume you as quick as any flame.

Things were quiet for a moment, before a thought occurred to me.  I spoke my mind.  “Will this cause a problem between Tempest and you?  ...because of the binding?”

A confused expression crossed Kyeia's face, and a moment later she smiled, and then laughed.  “There is no binding between Tempest and I.  I am, as you've heard, a 'Bound One,' but it is not Tempest to whom I'm bound.  I'm bound to you, Lowin.”  I was surprised to hear this, but at the same time I knew the words were true as soon as I heard them.  I could feel a certain connection to Kyeia that existed beyond mere affection.  “It's the crystals...” she continued.  “When you hold them they create an imprint of your personality, an image of who you are, and what sort of person you are.  They also search for certain traits in your body that make you an acceptable candidate for becoming one of the Knights of Ethan.  When the crystal turns blue, as yours did, it is sent to my people and the chosen one - me in this case - takes the crystal and reads it.  Once I finished reading your crystal, it was like I'd known you all my life.  I could see clips of your life, bits and pieces that came together to form a whole picture, up to the point that you held the crystal.  Also, reading the crystal ties my life to yours . . . it forms a bridge between the two of us.  I can sometimes feel what you're feeling, and sense your state of well-being.  The same is probably true for you, to some extent.”

If you've ever been in a position where you thought you were alone, only to find out that someone had actually been watching you for a long time, you might understand how I felt at that moment.  I had led a decent life, but there were things I'd done that I didn't necessarily want someone else to know about.  I found myself remembering how I'd been thinking of Kyeia's shapely form when she first walked into the room, and this caused me to blush fiercely, as I was, of course, thinking of it again.

She smiled.  “It's not like I know everything you're thinking, Lowin, just a general idea of what you're feeling.  You don't need to be embarrassed.  I've liked what I've seen.  You and I are strange, and not just because of this,” She laid her head against my shoulder.  “Breaking the taboo between us is just one aspect of what makes us different. We stand out from the others because you are male and I am female.  In the past this has only happened on three occasions.  Generally the one selected by the crystals, and the one chosen by my people to be bound, were of the same gender.  It was not an intentional thing, but that is how it always worked out.”  She looked away then, her eyes becoming distant for a moment.  “I can't tell you why the taboo exists.  I want to, but it would be a betrayal of the pact, and so long as a king stands in the realm of humans, my people cannot break the pact.”  Such sorrow gripped at my heart for a moment that I felt as though someone had hit me in the chest. I tightened my hold around her shoulders.  As my arms tightened the sorrow seemed to lift and I knew that was because of the bond, created by the crystal, between us.  Looking back at my time spent with her, I realized that this was probably the reason I'd always felt the sense of sadness about her.  I wasn't simply noticing that she was sad, I was feeling her sadness.

She changed the subject and I let her do so, eager for her happiness to return.  “Tempest was my bodyguard on my mission to find you.  When we returned here and reported the betrayal, he was immediately sent to Gray Post to dispatch the news.”

I nodded.  I had, in fact, been wondering where Tempest had gone since we arrived at Fell Rock.  “Is Gray Post another fort of the Black Eyed...”  I stopped myself, though belatedly, remembering that there was a proper name for the order I was going to join, whether or not I wished to.  “...of the Knights of Ethan?”

Kyeia nodded.  “It was the first of the two, actually, and is currently home to the other half of the Knights.  At the moment, though, it doesn't actually hold half of our number, and neither does Fell Rock.  A third of the Knights have been sent out into the field, to defend against the enemy.”

Fell Rock had seemed quiet to me since I arrived, but I had thought that was merely because of the amount of time I spent alone in my room.  It would make sense, though, that if a good portion of the Knights were away the staff would be low at the Post.  I shrugged it away, not particularly interested in any of it at that moment.  Kyeia was standing up from the bed, detaching herself from my grip and I, after checking my impulse to not let her go, loosened my arm.

“I have to go now.”  She said quietly.  “There will be questions if I am gone too long from my quarters, and if I am to be allowed to return here, I'd best get back.”

“My door is always open for you,” I said, sad to see her ago, but understanding the situation, if not the fundamental reasons for the situation.  I was also aware that I was expected back out on the practice field before long, and I couldn't imagine how bad things would be for me if I was late.

Kyeia leaned down to me and kissed me on the cheek.  “I'll see you again soon.”  She vanished out my door and the room became a much emptier place without her.  There were so many questions I still wanted answers to.  I wanted to know about the “enemy” that threatened us, and about the nature of the deep sorrow that plagued the lovely purple-eyed girl.  The questions, though, would have to wait.

Four months of vigorous training with Malice left me a changed man.  It is difficult to describe the extent one can improve under the tutelage of a brutal task-master, but I was a living testament to such a drastic restructuring.  Malice forced me to push my limits on a daily basis, never showing any satisfaction in my advances, even if I managed to drastically improve myself.  It became my personal goal to exceed her expectations.  Whether I succeeded at that goal I did not know, but I at least was satisfied with my improvements.  I was stronger, faster, and had more stamina than I'd ever had in my life.

My mornings were filled with strength, stamina, and balance exercises.  The hours from sunrise until noon, every day, were a difficult struggle to improve my body that often times left me gasping for breath on the ground with the ever bleak Malice, her head shaking in disappointment, standing over me.  After lunch, which I generally ate alone in my room, I would return to the training field and prepare for a long afternoon of intensive combat training.

“Your left elbow is too low, keep it up.”  Malice warned, her voice, as usual, full of ire.  I did as she said, raising the elbow and noticing the way that my balance seemed to level out after I brought it up just a scant inch.   Hand to hand combat was all about form.  The patterns were drilled into my body every day, and as I grew more accustomed to them, I could sense the raw logic behind the motions.  I had been improving, though I didn't know all the forms and I still had trouble with a few of the more advanced moves I'd been shown.  My balance was far from satisfactory to Malice, and that hindered my quick adoption of the more difficult hand-to-hand moves.

“Silent,” I heard Malice's voice after I'd been frozen in my position long enough for her satisfaction.  “I want you to spar with Lowin.  Keep going until he scores a hit or is no longer conscious.”  I came out of the position I'd been holding and turned to face Silent.  I'd grown to loathe the sparring sessions I sometimes had with Silent and Malice.  They always served to put into perspective just how far I was from the completion of my training.  Silent was far gentler than Malice but even he was several times stronger than myself, his form perfect, and speed, blistering.  My fights with Malice were an education in pain and brutality.  I knew that she pulled her punches but I never walked away from her without some significant cuts and bruises.  If I had a weakness in my form, she exploited it with unerring precision.  I saw the benefit; though I was loathe to admit it.  The various injuries she gave me served as staunch reminders of the places I'd been weak in form or execution.

Silent and I squared off, coming to just beyond arms reach and circling cautiously.  He let me make the first move, as was his way, and I struck at him with a fury, knowing that I needn't pull my punches where my black-eyed superiors were concerned.  He turned every blow I attempted to land away with little apparent effort, his hands moving always a fraction of a second faster than my own.  After he'd accepted a few of my attempts through his defenses, he turned the table and went on the offensive.  His hands were fast and I was hard pressed to keep them from landing blows.  What was worse, I knew that he was holding himself back.  He could go faster, but for my sake he withheld the full fury of his speed.  Of course, if he hadn't, he might have killed me.  I held off his attacks for what seemed forever, my arms burning with the effort of knocking his punches aside.  When he finally slowed and fell back into defense, it was all I could do to push an attack.  I forced myself to go forward with a vengeance, giving everything I had to landing even one blow.  I had never successfully hit either Malice of Silent during our sparring.  They were simply too fast, but this wasn't the first time I'd been put in a situation where I must either do so or keep trying until I collapsed.

Malice had, a few weeks before, made such a stipulation in a match against her.  She had proceeded to pound me into the ground until I had finally blacked out entirely and only awoke later the next day in my bed.  I didn't know if Silent would take the fight that far, but I had no intention of finding out.  I forced myself to focus my blows and concentrate on my form, pushing my body as hard as I could without breaking something.  Each strike I sent towards my opponent's body was weighted with all the velocity and precision I could muster.  I was breathing heavily, and sweat was pouring from my brow, clouding my vision, but I kept the punches flying.  My stamina training had shown me my limits and I could feel the point of no return coming.  I willed myself to move faster, strike harder, and that invisible point of exhaustion loomed ever nearer.  Silent's arms deflected some of my hits, the twists of his body making others miss entirely but I sensed that he was finally straining to keep pace with me.  That was all the encouragement I needed.  I gathered myself and prepared for one last volley.  It burst from me like a blast of lightening.  One fist was turned aside, one was dodged, the next one came within a fraction of an inch of Silent's shifting cloak, but suddenly my opponent was faster.  He seemed to blur as he moved, and his defensive position became an attacking one.  I blocked one fist, another, turned aside from a kick, barely missed a foot sweep, and tumbled face first into a surprisingly powerful right hook.  I left the ground, spinning through the air and landed with a thud nearly a body-span from where I'd been before.

I got back to my feet, my head spinning from the blow, but I knew that I had it in me to fight on.  Silent, however, had his back to me.  I put my guard down.  Malice, who had crept up behind me at some point, cuffed me hard in the shoulder and I nearly toppled to the ground once more.

“You underestimated your opponent and put too much energy out, too quickly.  With your level of stamina, that is akin to stabbing yourself in the foot.”  Her voice was abrasive, but there may have been something close to satisfaction in it.  I had learned over the four months I'd spent training that sometimes Malice was less angry than she normally was, and that was as close as she ever approached to offering a kind word.  “You're done for the evening, but after you've gotten cleaned up and fed yourself, report to my chambers.”

I nodded my head in assent, and turned to depart, my heart racing from more than the vigor of my exercise.  Last time Malice had called me to her chamber some weeks before, it had been to berate me for failing to improve in my balance test from one week to the next.  She had forced me to take off my shirt and stand on one foot, on an overturned bucket, while holding books on my outstretched arms for the entire night while she watched me.  Any time my arms had dipped she had used her vicious claws to carve a line on my chest.  She had not cut deeply enough to scar me, but the fear had been there.  The next day I had been unable to lift my arms high enough to replace my shirt.  I didn't know what she had in mind for that night but I dreaded whatever it might be.  I wearily thought her lack of anger was simply a place holder until she could take her full frustrations out on me later.

I took a resigned breath and made my way back to my room, hoping that I might find Kyeia - or Kye as I now generally called her - waiting there for me.  It wasn't to be though.  When I reached my room it was as empty as it ever had been.  Kye wasn't able to come see me often, and it had been worse since a procession of her own people had arrived a few weeks before.  I had only seen her once since then, and she had not been herself.  I worried very about her.  My feeling of unease was growing as the months passed, though I knew not why.  I wondered if things would be different between us once I became a Knight.  I hoped that the taboo would be lifted, so that we might fully explore the feelings that had grown between us.

It didn't do me any good to dwell, though, and I forced my concentration back to the meal on my desk.  It was a simple supper of stew and bread.  Seeing it made me realize that I rarely saw Merrywin anymore, either.  Training took up most of my days, and even now the sun was falling below the horizon.  I ate my meal quickly, and readied myself to get a quick bath before going off to Malice's apartment.  She had a room in a building similar to my own, near the practice yard.  The entire building had been used for equipment storage, but she had cleared out one of the rooms to use as a living quarters and another as a formal meeting room.  That is where I'd gone last time, when I'd received my private lesson on balance.  My arms ached in remembered agony as I thought of that.  I bathed quickly, rushing not for the sake of my meeting but for the sake of saving myself the wrath of Malice, should she be angered by my late arrival.

By the time I was outside again, the night had come and the stars shown clearly above me, far brighter for the lack of the moon that evening.  Silent did not follow me across the yard, probably having been told by Malice that he would not be needed.  That, I felt, boded ill for me.

The exterior door to Malice's building was unlocked, and so I let myself in, making my way down the dimly lit corridor to the door I knew housed her private office.  My unease mounted with every step I took, and I had to force myself to remain calm.  My four months at Fell Rock had given me the opportunity to meet many of the different Knights at the post and though most of them were intimidating, Malice still inspired the most fear in me.  Had I been forced to wager why that was, I thought it might be because I had never seen her smile, and there was something inherently inhuman about a person who never smiled.  I knocked lightly on the door to her room, hoping that she would not be there or that she might tell me to go away, having changed her mind about wanting to see me.  It was not to be so.

“Enter.”  Her cold voice intoned.  I took a brief moment to steady myself, and then turned the handle and stepped into my trainer's office.  The room was much as I remembered it.  It was nearly the same size as my own.  There was a desk in the center, larger than the one in my room, but nothing extravagant.  The surface of the desk contained a neatly stacked pile of scrolls, a quill, and an inkwell.  There were a couple chairs about the room and a shelf featuring a few large texts that I recognized from my time as a loremaster.  I tried not to let my eyes linger on that shelf too long.  The next thing I noticed was a rack in the corner of the room near the door I'd just come through.  Hanging from the rack was a Lucidil Cloak and a chain mail vest of the type I'd seen many Knights wearing.  My eyes shifted to the woman at the opposite side of the desk, and I was more than passingly surprised to see that the cloak and armor on the hook was her own.  She was dressed in a simple shirt of black that laced up the front and her deep auburn hair was not tied back as it normally was.  It hung in waves about her face.  I had never seen her in less than her full gear.  Her face seemed calm, almost serene, as though she had shed her anger with the trappings of her job.  With the look of rage gone from her features, the beauty of her face, generally hidden by her scowl, shown through brightly.

“Sit down, Lowin.”  She instructed me, holding her hand out to indicate the two unoccupied chairs in the room.  I took the one across the desk from her and sat down, not sure what to make of the events to that point. I had come into the dragon's den expecting to be eaten, but it appeared I was to have a conversation instead.  I was unsure whether to be relieved or suspicious.  I chose the latter, preparing myself for a sudden change of fortunes.

“You have been here nearly four months now, and you have pushed hard to better yourself during that time.”  She began, and I could hardly believe the words, even as I heard them.  “I have made things as difficult for you as I was able, but you have persevered and never offered me a complaint.  I have trained many, and that is a rare thing.  You are still weak of stamina and your balance is not what it should be, but these are problems that I believe you are capable of overcoming.”  I didn't know what had inspired this talk, but I could hardly believe what I was hearing.  This was a side of Malice I had never seen before and hadn't even expected to exist.  Compliments were a language I didn’t think she could speak.

She stood up, and I noticed that the shirt she was wearing was all that she was wearing.  It hung long, about a quarter of the way down her thigh, but below that level I could see the fur of her wolf-like legs protruding.  I felt my pulse quicken, a mixed feeling of fear and physical excitement enveloping me.  She approached me with a silky grace, walking around her desk, and as she did she slipped one of her clawed fingers beneath the laced knot holding her shirt closed and severed the cable with a single deft movement.  Her shirt fell open, exposing her large, well-formed breasts, the nipples coming erect in the cooler air of the room.  Her upper torso was crossed with scars, including one particularly nasty, purple scar that ran from the top of her chest, between her breasts, down to a point still covered by her shirt.

“You have been alone so much of the time you've been here.”  She said, and her voice held compassion, such a deep welling of it, in fact, that I wondered momentarily if I was really experiencing what was transpiring, or if I had fallen asleep in the bath earlier.  The warm flush in my cheeks was far too much for me to pass off as a mere dream.  “It must be difficult for you, but you don't have to be alone all the time.”  Then she was next to me, seeming to have closed the distance in a flash, and then she was on my lap, her breasts, warm and inviting, just a whisper from my face.  I had never been with a woman.   In fact, despite the closeness that Kye and I had shared, I had never seen a woman naked.  I had certainly never had one approach me in such a forward manner.  I was stunned, stuck between shock and fear.  My body was responding positively to the advance but I knew, with certainty, that I had no right to what was being offered.

“I know that I'm different from other women, Lowin, but I'm still human.  I've never been...”  She said, apparently noticing my hesitation.

I stood up, pushing her from my lap.  I did so as gently as possible, but I couldn't let things go any further.  Such a resistance was far beyond me.  I spoke, though I know not how I managed the words.  “I can't, Malice, and I assure you it is not for your body.”  I probably didn't need to state that, for my own body indicated quite beyond my control, that hers had been very appealing to me.  I made a vain attempt to cover up just how much the offer had tempted me, but there was only so much I could do while her shirt hung open and inviting, her pink crested breasts one of the most inviting temptations I had ever encountered.  I worried that she would be sad, or worse, angry, but she did not seem surprised at all.

“It's Kyeia, isn't it?”  She said, and to my surprise, the emotion I encountered on her face was sympathy.  I didn't know what to say.  I suddenly felt as though I'd been backed into a corner and there was no way out.  She moved nearer to me, her arms going out around me.  Standing, she was only a few inches taller than me, but that was enough to put her breasts tantalizingly close to my face.  “Please, Lowin, don't go down that road.  Don't let yourself feel for her.”  Her words raised my ire and I pushed her back, hard this time.  She stepped back, though I realized later, with her strength it was only because she allowed me to do so.

“I don't understand the great taboo!”  I shouted at her.  Now that the truth was at the surface, I wanted to vent all of my frustrations.  “I love her, Malice.  She loves me.  Where is the harm in that?  We make each other happy, why are we forbidden from getting closer?”

Malice pulled her shirt closed with one hand and sat down in the second chair on the same side of the desk as I, though the strange way her legs hinged made it so she had to sit the chair in an unusual manner.  She gestured towards the chair I'd recently left, indicating I should sit down as well.  I did so, hesitantly.  I was still in a position of terrible temptation, maybe even more so for now I could see the point where Malice's fur covered legs ceased to be fur covered, and reverted to the flesh of a normal woman.  Only the slightest dipping of her shirt covered that most sacred portion of her female anatomy and, angry as I was, it was difficult to keep my mind from that fact.

“The rule does not exist to make life difficult for you, Lowin.  It exists to protect you, and to protect Kyeia, and to keep you both from suffering more than you need to.”  Malice said, and again I could sense her sympathy for me.  “I know you feel for her, and what's worse, I know she feels for you.  She comes to me every other day, at least, to check on your progress.  The Bound Ones do not normally do that.  I suspected that things might be escalating between the two of you...”

“Will Kyeia be in trouble?”  I asked, suddenly realizing I had no idea what the penalty was for our relationship.

“There will be no trouble, at least not the way you mean, for Kyeia.  I won't tell anyone, Lowin.”  Malice answered.

“Why must the rule exist, Malice?  What suffering do we face?”

Malice surprised me than, she smiled, but I saw that she was not exactly looking at me.  She was looking through me, her mind in a memory.  A tear crept down her face, falling like a single drop of rain, from her right eye.  She leaned towards me, coming close enough that I could see every nuance of her beautiful face, reminding me that she seemed only a year or two older than me.  Her strange black eyes looked deep into my own.  “Where do you think these eyes come from?  We are not born with them. They do not grow on trees.”

At this my mind seized up, and I repeated that in my head over and over again.  “Where do you think these eyes come from?”  I had never thought about it.  I had never let myself think about it.  I had wanted to believe that they were some form of magic, but I don't believe I'd ever really convinced myself of that fact.  The truth, I realized, was so terrible that I'd refused to look at it.

“...they come from Kye's people.”  I whispered, my voice wavering with the horror I had just realized.

Another tear crept from Malice's eye.  “They do, Lowin.  For each of us, one of Kyeia's people must be sacrificed.”

I shook my head, unwilling to accept a truth that terrible.  Did that mean Kyeia would have to die for me to become a Knight of Ethan?  I would never allow such a thing.  I looked at Malice.  She was sobbing now, her face flushed, and the tears flowing freely.

“I loved him so much...”  She said, and the look in her eyes tore me apart.  I realized, then, that she had been one of those few other Knights to have had a Bound One of the opposite sex.  She didn't need to say more.  I understood in just those five words all that she meant.

I went to her, and put my arms around her, for I knew nothing else to do.  Her arms encircled me, and she sobbed into my shoulder.  It was a full minute or more before I realized that I was crying as well.  I found myself completely lost in emotion, but I now knew that in Malice at least there was one I could take solace.  After a while, Malice stopped crying, though she stayed close to me.  Her voice was soft when she spoke, not the authoritative rumble I was so used to.

“His name was Yulinel.  He never really loved me, at least not the way I loved him, but my heart was his from the moment we first met.  I did not know the truth of it until the day they took his beautiful eyes and put them into me.  They were green... his eyes, but they are black now...”  She sniffed and pulled away from me.  I had managed to stop my own tears, but I knew my eyes were red rimmed, and I felt like I might break down at any moment.

“I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to come between you and Kyeia.  I like you, though, and had hoped to save you this pain.”  She clenched a hand over her heart. “You're a good man...”  She managed a faint smile.  “Despite your many failings as a fighter.”  She paused for a moment, and then added once more.  “I thought there might still be a chance to save you.”

I shook my head.  “I can't let it happen, Malice.  I can't let Kye die just so I can become more powerful.  What kind of creature would I be then?”  I noticed a look of hurt on Malice's face, and I quickly corrected myself.  “No, it's not the same between us.  You didn't know what was happening until it was too late.  Thanks to you, I can stop it.”  The look of hurt was replaced by one of sympathy.  “You can't stop it now, Lowin.  Kyeia is bound to you.  The transfer between the two of you has already begun.  Whether you receive her eyes or not, now, she is dead.  She has been dead ever since she first held your crystal and accepted the bond.”

I rocked back hard into my chair, the weight of her words hitting me as if a physical blow to my chest.  “That can't be... she should have told me.”

“They can't tell us.  The pact is not merely an agreement between our people and theirs, Lowin, it's a magical binding that takes effect on those chosen to become Bound Ones.  Kyeia is completely unable to speak to you about the nature of the pact.  No matter how badly she wants to tell you, she never can.”  Malice's voice was rough now, obviously heavy with remembered pain.

I hung my head, defeated.  “What can I do?”

“You can make the time you have left the best that it can be.”  Malice offered, though her tone suggested that she didn't see my chances for success in doing so as very high.

“How much time do I have left?”  I asked.

Malice could only shrug.  “A month, no more, probably less.  Her people came two weeks ago to begin her preparations.  That only happens near the end of the process.  I'm sorry, Lowin, her time is almost over.”

The breath left me in a rush.  “So little time left...”  I found myself back in Malice's arms, held fast as my resolve fell to pieces.  I would like to say that I left her room then and returned to my own, to prepare to meet the new challenges in my life, but I did not.  In the grief we shared, each of us took comfort from the other that night, bodies entwined in what was, for both of us, the first taste of the pleasures of the flesh.  I could romanticize the experience and say that Malice and I found love that sad evening in our shared curse, but we did not love each other then.  We merely needed comfort and took it as two who shared a bond of respect and suffering.  I fought back the demons of my future and she fought back those of her past.  Together we swept away the darkness until the coming of the dawn.

I awoke the next morning in Malice's bed, her naked body pressed pleasingly against mine.  I turned to look at her and found that she was already awake.  She was watching me and she smiled as I faced her, though it was a smile edged with sadness.  Seeing a smile on her face was a strange and mysterious thing.  Again I found myself hard pressed to believe that the beautiful woman curled close to me in bed was the same woman that had driven me to collapse over and over again on the training field.  Other than her eyes, her arms, and her legs, she was every bit a human woman.  She had been, over the course of the night, both emotionally and physically gentle and innocent in a way that I hadn't believed possible.  Her powerful clawed hands that could have easily torn me asunder had caressed and held me with divine gentleness.  She seemed to be almost two entirely different women in one body.

“We'll not be training today, I think.”  She said quietly, and for the first time I realized that the sun was already up and streaming in through the window.  I couldn't tell exactly what time it was, but I guessed it was mid- to late- morning.  “I have reports to write anyway, and I think we could both use a day to gather ourselves.”  She sat up and the blankets fell away from her, exposing her most fetching human characteristics.  “I'd recommend that you spend some time on the training field anyway.   It'll help clear your mind, and you could use it.  Lowin...”  She started, and I could sense she had something to say that she didn't necessarily want to.  “Despite what happened between us, I can't go easy on you during your training.  I have a reputation to uphold, and...”

I stopped her with a smile.  “It's alright.  I understand and I wouldn't change your techniques anyway.  They have been harsh and there have been times when I was terrified of you, but I have always put forth my best effort.”

She looked away, a light blush on her cheeks.  “Two weeks ago, when I brought you here, I had intended to offer myself to you as I did last night, but I lost my nerve and I took my anger at myself out on you.  Since Yulinel died, I have been so angry inside.  I know it's wrong.  It has been nearly two hundred years, and I still have not forgotten him.”

I was momentarily shocked when I heard just how old Malice was, but I knew that the Knights of Ethan didn't age much after they ascended to full knighthood.  I had heard as much from others.  Still, it was hard to think of Malice as being much older than myself.  “I don't know that I would have done any better.  I'm just glad you were able to come forward this time.”

She nodded once, and then seemed to be summoning her courage.  “I apologize for that night, Lowin.  It was wrong of me and I don't expect your forgiveness.”  She got up from the bed and grabbed her shirt, pulling it on and doing up the laces quickly.  Obviously she had said all she was willing to on the subject and I decided that would be enough. I got up as well, dressing myself, and trying to decide what I needed to do with my life.  My heart was full of grief that I might lose Kye in so short a time and it was tempered only by the fact that I knew I still had some time with her remaining.  I was also filled with guilt, feeling that I had betrayed her by spending the night with Malice, but I refused to let that consume me.  I hadn't done it to hurt Kye and I wouldn't regret what I had done either.  I took no joy in my betrayal, but I also would not lessen the importance of the night with Malice by regretting it.  What had happened between us had benefited us both.

Once we were both fully dressed, we said our goodbyes and I turned to leave.  As I did so, I felt Malice's hand on my shoulder.  I turned to see her as she usually was, dressed in her shifting cloak, hair tied back severely. I was again faced with the duplicity of her personality, though her face and the set of her eyes were still softened from their normal angry depth.

“If you ever need a friend again, my door is ever open, my bed always empty.”  She smiled, the barest lift of the corners of her mouth, and I leaned forward and put my arms around her.

“Thank you, Malice, for giving me the truth, and helping me through the night.”  With those words I released her, turned, and walked from her rooms out into the hallway.  Once I was outside, the full strength of the sun beating down upon me, I realized that there was much I needed to think about.  I felt as though all hope had been taken from me in the night, and while spending the night with Malice had helped me to an extent there was still a crushing weight upon my chest and each breath that I drew came with great difficulty.  I made my way back to my room, noticing as I entered that Silent was off duty and had been replaced by Wisp.  Wisp was a short Knight with chiseled features and close-cropped black hair.  She had dragon-like forearms, and similar legs but her most notable feature, I thought, were the horns that protruded six inches from each of her temples.  She was the relief shift for Silent.  I didn't mind her company but she wasn't as well humored as Silent.  I nodded to her, absently, as I went by.

“Kyeia awaits you inside.”  She said as I passed, and I nearly stumbled.

“Thank you.”  I told her, and proceeded inside.  When I reached my room, Kyeia was laying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.  Seeing her caused the pressure in my chest to increase and I felt for a moment that I might not be able to make myself smile.  I did though.  I didn't want to bring up what had happened the night before for multiple reasons.  I wasn't ready to let her know that I knew the dark secret she'd been keeping and I wasn't sure what to say to her about what had happened between Malice and me.  I owed her the truth, and I intended to provide it, but I wasn't emotionally prepared for such a confrontation yet.

“Good morning, Kye.  It is good to see you.”  She sat up, and I saw that her face was tear-streaked.  I went to her immediately and put my arms about her, not sure why she was so upset, but unwilling to stand by while she cried.

She laid her head on my shoulder, and I remembered, with a pang of guilt, that Malice had done the same thing the night before.

“I wanted to tell you...”  She said, and there was such pain in her voice.  “I always wanted to tell you, every single day.  Sometimes, I would try while we were together, but the words just wouldn't come free.  You deserved to know!”

“I...”  I didn't know what to say, but I suddenly understood that she knew that I had learned her secret.  I realized, belatedly, that she could feel my emotional extremes and understood, to an extent, my emotional state.  That was how she knew that I had learned her secret.  She had sensed the emotional chaos I'd experienced the night before.  I was ill prepared for such a confrontation, as I wasn't even sure how I should be handling the news of Kye's impending mortality.  One thing I was certain of was that Kyeia had no need to feel as though she had done any wrong by not telling me the truth.   “It's alright Kye.  I understand now.  Malice explained the nature of the Pact between your people and mine.”  I held her, wondering if she knew what else had happened with Malice and wondering if I should tell her now, or wait until she was feeling better.

“You don't have to feel guilty, Lowin.”  She whispered to me, tears still streaming down her face.  “I felt what came after your learned the truth, as well, but I am not angry with you or her.  Malice has been something of a friend to me these last four months, keeping me informed of your progress and letting me know when you'd had a particularly bad day.  She is not all rage and claw and it is good that you learned that about her.  The Knights are people too.”

I wasn't sure what to say or do.  I hadn't anticipated having such a conversation with Kyeia so soon.  I certainly hadn't anticipated that she would be alright with what had happened between Malice and me.  My guilt, I decided, would have to be pushed aside for a moment.  I looked down at Kyeia, lifting her chin with one hand so that I might look into her purple eyes.  I had grown to know those eyes so well and I could read them as well as any humans.  “I can't let you die, Kye.  How could I kill you and continue to live?”  Those were my thoughts as I watched the purple lightning in her gaze and I spoke them aloud.

Kye shook her head.  “It's not like that, Lowin.  I am going to give you the power to protect our peoples.  The humans and my people both need warriors like you to stand for us against forces that would otherwise destroy us.”

“No.”  I said fiercely.  “I simply cannot accept that.  I cannot take your life from you.  How can we stop this?  What can I do so that you will not die?  I love you, Kyeia.”  I had never said those last words aloud before, though I had known them to be true for some time.

Kye smiled sadly.  “I love you too, Lowin.  ...but you cannot stop the inevitable.  The process has already begun.  I will be gone within the next two months no matter what you do.  Please do not let me die without taking from me what I would freely give to you.  I love you so much, Lo...”  Her words trailed off, though she continued after taking a steadying breath.  “No one could have been more deserving of what I'm giving.  You will be the greatest man of your kind and you will shape the course of our world.  I know you will.”  There was so much determination and strength in her voice.

I held her as close to me as I could and let the tears of my pain fall freely.  I knew then that I would never stop loving Kyeia, no matter what happened in the future, no matter how long we had left, I would love the purple eyed girl in the white dress.  Just as Malice still loved Yulinel, so would I be bound forever to Kyeia.  I knew, also, that I would take her eyes, because doing any less would be to let her die for nothing. Taking them, though, would kill some part of my humanity.  Of that, I was terribly certain.  I would be accepting a great power, and giving up something that was perhaps far more important.  I felt a gentle push from Kye and I eased back onto the bed, she lay down next to me, at eye level, watching me for a moment before she leaned in and pressed her soft lips against my own.  Her kiss was chaste at first, but soon her mouth opened, and our tongues met in a kiss far warmer than any we'd shared to that point.

“Lowin, I hold no anger towards you or Malice.  I told you that and I mean it.  Amidst my people, it is not uncommon to share a partner physically with others... but I find myself a little jealous of Malice now.  Between you there is no love, yet I, who love you so much, have never lain with you.”  There was a blush in her cheeks as she spoke, and I knew what she had in mind before she spoke again.  “Would you make love to me?  I don't know how many more times we will be together, or for how long I will be able to see you, but for now we are together and I want to know you as only a lover can, at least once.”  That was the final taboo, one which we'd persistently attempted not to break, though it had been difficult.  Now with the cruel reality of our dwindling time so painfully evident, I couldn't think of a reason not to have the woman I cherished most at least once.

Words would have been foolish, so I answered Kye by slipping a hand beneath the hem of her dress and pushing the thin fabric up.  With Malice, the sex had been a thing of hesitance and tenderness, with Kyeia there was desperation and roughness I would never have expected.  We tore free from our clothes and made love repeatedly until neither of us could go any further and then we lay for a time, and, after a brief rest, repeated the ritual.  There was a terrible hunger in our love making.  It was both beautiful as a summer rainbow and fierce as a spring storm.  As we at last neared the end of our time together, as the final climax approached, I thrust as deeply into her as I could, gazing deep into her beautiful eyes and told her that I loved her and always would.  As we lay gasping, light of head and flushed from our exertion and physical pleasure, I heard her softly say, “Love, Lowin, like ours, never really dies.”

We lay for a short time, but it wasn't long before Kye had to go.  She had risked a lot in spending so long with me but we also both knew, though neither of us would admit to it, that it would be the last time we would have so much time together.  It was to be our first joint taste of love's lust, and our last.  The end, for us, was fast approaching.

A week went by with no sign or word from Kye.  I spent my time on the training field, as Malice had suggested, burying myself in as much grueling physical punishment as possible.  Malice, I discovered, had not been entirely truthful when she'd said that she would treat me as she had before our night together.  She still pushed me hard, but the vicious edge to her personality seemed to be muted.  Even in our sparring matches she took care not to give me any serious abrasions or bruises.

“Your left foot is coming too far forward when you leap and it's causing your torso to follow it forward to recover.  Control your center; do not be controlled by it.”  She didn't even bother to call me “oaf,” as she always had before.  I might have felt flattered under better circumstances.  “Focus your mind here, Lowin.  If you fall off those balance poles, I'll beat you into the ground.”  I bit my lower lip in exasperation.  She was right, threats aside.  I wasn't focusing.  Every day away from Kye made it more and more difficult for me to keep my mind on my work.  I made another attempt to force my distress deep inside of me.  The balance poles were still one of the most difficult training exercises I faced on a daily basis.  Moving from pole to pole was becoming easier with time, but the longer jumps always put me at the edge of my ability to cope with my momentum.  Malice stood at the far end of the poles, easily balanced on a single, round topped, step.  To my right, a few feet away, Wisp was also on the poles, seemingly quite amused at my lack of coordination.  I noticed that she took a certain unpleasant satisfaction at my frequent failures.

I wondered where Silent was.  Since I'd been at Fell Rock, he'd only ever been away for a day or two, but now it had been a week since I'd seen him.  I wasn't exactly worried about him, just surprised at his prolonged absence.  He was generally kind, whereas I'd learned that Wisp, on the other hand, had a mean streak.  She didn't know what had transpired between Kye and me on the first day she was on watch, and I don't think she really suspected anything, but nevertheless she had made some rather foul comments when next I met with her.  “Got yourself a nice wet hole there, don't you boy?”  I had been furious at her, but didn't think that showing it would be a good idea.  She was just poking fun at my expense, but if I took an inordinate amount of offense she might suspect that she had hit close to the mark.  I had feigned ignorance and walked away.  I eased my ire by telling myself that there was nothing I could have done anyway.  She was stronger, faster, and far more dangerous than I was.  That seemed to be the way of my world anymore.  With the exception of Kye, and truthfully I really didn't understand the true power of my love, everyone at Fell Rock was more than a match for me.  In such a situation, it was easy to learn to hold your tongue.  I had mistakenly snapped at Malice a few times during my first month of training.  Those slips had been tremendous learning experiences.

The rounded balancing poles grew gradually more difficult to navigate as you reached the end furthest from the beginning.  I was just beginning to navigate the most difficult portion of the course and I felt a wall of determination forming inside me.  I decided that I would, at long last, reach the end of the course.  I had made many an effort to defeat the foul obstacles, but this time I was determined to succeed.

“Don't fall.”  Wisp's voice called, mockingly from my left. She had apparently maneuvered all the way around me while I made my last two or three moves forward.

I ignored her and pressed on, spanning the wide distances between the steps with every bit of skill I could muster.  I knew that it was in me to finish the course.  I increased my speed as I went, not exactly by intent, but simply because I found that my balance seemed to better stay to my center if I kept moving fluidly.  Each footfall brought me precariously close to disaster and each leap to cover a greater distance or height between poles forced me to make my next move a little faster. Before I even knew it, I had reached the end.  The last jump I made brought me down nearly five feet and out four from the previous rounded step.  To land on a pole width no larger than a man's palm and curved, from such a distance, was quite a challenge.  I hit the low obstacle with a good deal of speed and had to bend over and grab the surface of the wood to keep myself from teetering forward and off.  It was not a pretty touchdown, and as my hands scrambled for purchase I tore one of my fingernails free, but I broke my momentum and stood up on the last balance step in the set for the first time in all my months of practice.  Kye, I thought with a rush of pride, would have something to be happy about.

“Next time, faster, and don't use your hands to break your momentum.  Your legs need to be enough.”  Malice commented in what seemed a gruff manner, but I could tell that she, too, was proud of my accomplishment that day.  “Run to the sparring yard, grab two swords, and make yourself ready.  Today we're going to start teaching you the sword.”  I nodded and went to get the gear for practice.  I had wondered when we might move on to weapon training.  I had seen the Knights of Ethan in practice a few times, though not very often, and they almost never bothered with weapons.  Most of them, though, had some form of clawed hands which made a fair substitute for a sword.  I remembered that Tempest had used a sword when he defended Kye and me from the Shao Geok, but over all he had seemed more comfortable dispatching them by hand.  A sword though, helped even the odds against a superior-sized force and extended a fighters range in combat.  Even the Knights of Ethan needed to know the basics.

I located the practice weapons in short order.  They were all designed to emulate two handed swords, heavy weapons that could be quite difficult for a normal man to wield with much grace, but were favored by the much stronger Knights.  As I grabbed two of the weighted wood weapons, I realized that they were far heavier than a blade I would have ideally chosen for myself.  I knew my arms would grow tired quickly and my form would suffer for it.  That meant that Malice would likely be leaving me with more than a few potent reminders of the effects of bad form.

I handed one of the wood weapons to Malice who took a moment to instruct me in the proper way to hold a sword.  To my surprise, rather than simply beating me with her own weapon, she used the practice blade to illustrate the way she wished me to wield the ungainly block of wood.  Once she'd shown me the basics, she instructed me to work at them, repeating the movements over and over again.  I quickly realized the sword lessons were not going to be of much more interest than had been hand to hand training.  The only fundamental difference was that now I had a heavy weight I had to hoist around.  Malice worked me through several different stances and maneuvers until the sun hung low in the sky, and my arms were burning fiercely with built-up acids.  Before she dismissed me for the night, however, she sent Wisp back to her guard station and waved me over to have a private conversation.

Once she was certain we were alone, she said in a very low voice, “Silent has disappeared.  That night we spent together in my rooms was the last night any one saw him.  He reported to Wisp in order to switch shifts and then vanished immediately after.”

My eyes opened wide.  I was surprised to hear that.  I had noticed he was absent, but could hardly believe that he had gone entirely missing.  “He's not out on mission?”  I asked, though I knew the answer already.

“No.  He is permanently set for guard duty with you, only to be relieved by Wisp when it is necessary.”  Malice's voice held a brittle edge that I thought might be worry.

“Have Knights left their post before?”  It was a poor question, but I knew little of how the Knights were organized, or what their rules were regarding the abandonment of a post.  I don't know why, but I assumed that Silent must have left of his own volition.

She shook her to indicate a negative.  “Any Knight who abandons his post would be immediately hunted down and punished.  As you should well know by now, we are a very strict order.  There have been hunting parties out for the last two days, but they have turned up not so much as a single track or sign that Silent has left the Fort.  I was told not tell you, but I felt you had a right to know.”

“Thank you, Malice.”  I appreciated her honesty, though I knew if anyone ever found out just how much Malice had told me, about Silent - and more so about the reality of the Knights of Ethan - she would probably be in considerable trouble.  At that moment I swore to myself that I would never do anything to compromise her trust in me.  “What do you think has happened to him?”  I regretted the question as soon as I saw the expression on Malice's face as I asked it.

“Three weeks ago, another Knight went missing.  We later found his body, decapitated and disemboweled, in the woods several miles from here.  A month before that, another of our number vanished in the night and we've yet to find her.”  Her answer was tight lipped, worried.

“What?”  I asked incredulously.  “Something is killing the Knights of Ethan?  ...Is it the enemy?”  I had to use the phrase “the enemy” since no one had yet identified who or what “the enemy” was.

Malice shrugged.  “I don't know, Lowin.  No one does, but they are searching.  You should also be weary; as you are a in training you could be a potential target. If you notice anything suspicious, alert me at once. I felt you should know about Silent’s disappearance, though, since you are one of his friends.”  I nodded my reply, grateful to have someone willing to talk to me, especially when that someone took a great risk in doing so.  I hadn't realized it until she'd said it, but Malice was right, Silent was one of my friends.  He was one of the few people that had always had a smile for me over the long four months of training, and I was genuinely worried about him.

Malice turned to go back to her apartments for the night, but she stopped after a few steps and turned toward me, looking around once more before she spoke.  “How have you been?”  She asked, and I could tell by the way her expression and voice softened, that it was not a question she felt would be easy for me to answer.   I wasn't sure how to reply at first, mostly because I didn't really know how to feel about all that had happened.  With Kye's time dwindling so quickly, I found myself both sad and angry at the same time, but most of all I felt like nothing I did much mattered anymore.  In the not too distant future I would lose any purpose to go forward, and now Silent was missing as well.

“I'm not well, Malice, but I am trying.”  I finally said, not wanting to lie, but also unwilling to tell Malice that I felt like the world was all too quickly running into oblivion.

The tall female warrior nodded.  “I'll tell Kye, when next I see her, how well you did today.  She'll be happy.”

That made me smile.  “You're a good person, Malice.”  I said, and I meant it.

She smiled and gave a short, sharp laugh.  “You don't have to flatter me now. I was already going to tell her you did well.”  With that, she turned and walked away.

I walked back to my room lost in deep thought.  There were so many different problems assaulting me that I hardly knew where to begin in tackling them.  Silent was missing, and Kye's time was running out so fast that each passing minute terrified me more.  I desperately wanted her to be in my room when I got there, but I knew that was an unrealistic hope.  She was being watched quite closely, and while she could safely make excuses to visit Malice, she couldn't be seen coming to see me all the time.  I desperately wanted to talk to her, only she could calm the rush of chaos that threatened to consume me.

“You spearing Malice, too?  You get around a lot for a trainee.”  Wisp's voice cut through my concentration, and I glared at her.  She laughed in the sharp, derogatory way that she could when she was trying to offend.  “Don't think you'll be mounting me, boy.  I'm no whore like the purple eyed bitch or that cunt of a trainer.  I'd rather go naked to the stable and let the pigs have a...”

Whatever else she might have been about to say never cleared her mouth.  “Then why don't you do so, and plug at least one of your filthy holes.”  I snapped, the words ripping free from me with all the force of the bottled up turmoil within me.  I knew they were a mistake even as they cleared my throat.  There was a flash of motion and I was suddenly two feet in the air, my back slammed against the door to my room with such force that I heard the boards bend.

“What was that, you piece of stinking hound shit?”  Wisp's voice was full of rage, her black eyes boring deep into my own with such a fearsome hate I wanted to shiver at my very core, but I wouldn't let myself.  Her cold, draconic hand with its razor claws squeezed so tight about my throat that I struggled to pull breath.  “I could sever your head just by squeezing your neck a bit more,” she whispered, and I judged that she was trying to decide whether or not she might do just that.

“...wouldn't have to look at your ass of a face...anymore.”  I spit the words out through my constricted throat.  She roared her rage and slammed me back against the door again with such ferocity that this time the boards actually did crack.

Her free hand came up in a blur and she raked it down across my field of vision.  Suddenly there was blood pouring down my face, running into my eyes so that I could barely see and I realized then that I might die, that Wisp might kill me.  I wondered if my death might free Kye from her magical binding.  I didn't think so, but I realized that I would not have to see her die now.  I smiled despite the terrible pain it caused my ravaged face.

“It looks like your face is the one that we will be thankful not to have to see anymore.”  She spat venomously.  There was a sudden rush of activity and I felt myself fall the ground in a heap, my back against the door.  I tried to blink the blood from eyes, but every time I managed to make some headway, the sticky red liquid built back up almost immediately.  Though I couldn't see, I could hear voices.

“What do you think you are doing?”  A sharp, authoritative voice demanded, and there was violence in the words.  It was Malice.

“He... he insulted me… I was just showing him...”  Wisp's voice came and, to my grim satisfaction, there was a tremor in it.

I heard the sound of a blunt impact and something heavy hitting the ground.  “He is a trainee, and you are a full Knight of Ethan.  If you can't take an insult from a young boy with one tenth of your ability, you are a discredit to all of us.”

“You're just protecting him because you like it when he fuc-”  I heard another impact followed by a deep groan.

Malice's voice came again, calm and as cold as I'd ever heard it.  “I'll be filing a report on your misconduct and recommending that you return to a second year training regimen.  It's obvious that you do not have the restraint needed for a member of your office.”

“Ethaniel will hear about...”  Wisp began, but Malice's voice cut in over her again.

“Yes he will.  I have served as his master of instruction for one hundred and four years, Wisp.  That is sixty years longer that you have been alive.  Believe me when I say that I know Ethaniel, and know what he expects from his Knights.  He will, indeed, hear about this.  You are dismissed from duty until you receive official word of judgment on your actions.”  Her words had a finality about them that dared Wisp to speak out again.  She did not, though I did hear her get up and walk away.  Malice came towards me, barely making a sound as she approached.  I could sense her bending down over me and then I felt one of her clawed hands brushing back the hair from my face.

“Damn it!”  She cursed with a fierceness that startled me.  “I heard the commotion and came as fast as I could.  I'm sorry, Lowin.”

I shook my head, not sure whether or not I was happy.  In death I might have at least escaped my worries.  Malice's strong arms lifted me from where I lay against the door and she carried me into my room.  She did her best to clean the blood and mess from my wounds, but as my vision came clear I could see that she was more than a little distressed by what she saw.  “I need to get Merrywin.”  She whispered softly to me.  “She'll need to put in stitches, and maybe some healing salve.  I'll be back in a few moments, try not to move too much.”  She pushed a clean cloth torn from my bedding against my face.  “Hold this tight against the wounds until I get back.”  She got up and I heard her leave.

Never one to listen when I thought I could get away with it, I got up from my bed and stumbled my way blindly to my closet, opening it to expose the small mirror that was there to aid in my shaving.   I took the cloth from my face and stared at my face in the mirror.  There were four distinct, jagged lines running down my face.  Each was quite deep and oozing blood copiously.  My lips were cut all the way through, leaving them to hang in flaps.  I sighed, and blood followed my breath out onto the mirror.  I walked back to my bed and lay down, covering my face.  I had not considered myself attractive before, but now there was no question in the matter.  Kye would be upset, I thought, as I lay bleeding.

Merrywin and Malice were back in short order, and even Merrywin winced when she saw the damage beneath my once white, now red-soaked, scrap of bedding.  She pulled a needle and thread from a bag of medical supplies she'd brought in with her.  Malice stood at the edge of my bed, watching the process.

“I sent for Kyeia.  I felt she should be made aware of the situation, since she has a vested interest in your health.”  The tall female warrior said.  I was aware that Malice had actually sent for Kye merely for my benefit, but her pretext was well established.  A Bound One would indeed be interested if there was a threat to the life of her prospective Knight.  “Once she arrives, I will take up station outside your quarters for the night, Lowin.  Tomorrow there will be a new guard assigned for the watch detail.”

I nodded my thanks, not wanting to speak with my lips that hurt fiercely.

“This is going to be quite painful, and it's going to take a while.”  Merrywin said, bringing my focus back to the immediate problem at hand.  “I wish I could do something for the pain but I don't have anything readily available and we need to get these wounds closed up quickly.”  With that, she went to work with her needle and thread.  The pain was terrible, and there were multiple points where I thought I might lose consciousness, but I forced myself to remain aware.  Each time the darkness threatened to creep in on me, I focused my eyes on Merrywin who was deftly working her needle with practiced skill.  I had a difficult time keeping track of what was happening about my room, but I was vaguely aware that at some point Malice left, and was replaced by Kye who was kneeling at the edge of my bed, a pale, distressed look hiding just beneath the calm facade she wasn't successfully pulling off.  In all, there were more than eighty stitches by the time Merrywin had completed her work.

“It looks bad now,” I heard Merrywin say as she finished.  “But once the wounds close up it won't be so bad.  You're going to have scars, I'm afraid, but fighting men and women have scars.  You'll be alright.  At least you're a fast healer, and the salve will help that even more.  Just make sure to spread it on the wound if it starts to grow dry, once or twice a day should be enough.”  She left then, leaving me with a sealed container of the salve for my wounds.  As she left, Kye rushed to my side and took my hand in hers.  As she drew nearer to me, I could feel the outpouring of worry and hurt from her.  She didn't speak, just held my hand and cried softly.  After a time, she kissed my cheek gently, and whispered softly.  “I love you, Lowin.  I must go, but I'll try to come see you again before the week is out.”

“I love you, Kye.”  I said, the words hard to understand coming from my tattered mouth.  Fresh tears formed in Kye's eyes as she got up and left.  I desperately didn't want her to go.  I really wanted to talk to her about everything and anything I might, just to keep her in the room with me.  The room was quiet for a time but I was only alone for a few minutes before Malice came back into the room, a ghost in the darkness of the night.  I knew it was her immediately.  I had spent enough time with her that I had learned the subtle characteristics of the way she moved.  She sat on the side of my bed and put one of her powerful hands on my chest.  For a time we just sat like that, quietly sharing the night.  After a time she spoke.

“We fight so hard for our ideals and our causes that sometimes we forget that which is most vital.  What does it mean to be a Knight, if one must protect those who are important, from those who are supposed to be our allies?  Lowin, do we deserve this power that we hold, power scavenged from the lives of others?  I don't know anymore.  Surely not all of us do, and if not all of us, than do any of us?  The cost is so... terrible, the result so unpredictable.  Are we just monsters?”  Her voice held a sad note of reflection, and a sincere sense of confusion.  I wasn't sure what to say to her, so I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed firmly.  It was a gesture I hoped told her that I didn’t know the answers either, but I trusted her.  I hoped it sufficed in place of words.  I could feel the flesh around my wounds swelling uncomfortably against the stitches.

Malice gave a squeeze in return, then got up from my bed and left the room.  I sat in the darkness thinking for a long time.  The damage to my face and the incident between Wisp and me were of little real concern.  Instead, I worried about Silent, fretted over Kye, and considered Malice's words.  Kye seemed to believe in the cause she was giving her life to.  That made me want to believe in it as well, but every time I thought of the fate that awaited her, I began to hate the world that would allow such a thing.  It was easy to hate a world that had so scarred Malice and would soon take my Kyeia from me forever.  For her, though, for the purple-eyed girl I loved, I would try not to hate those who tore us apart.  For her I would fight to make the world a better place, and for Malice as well, so that she could have faith in her own purpose again.

I awoke the next morning before dawn, got up and went to the bathing room to clean myself up.  I could do little more than dab at the painful wounds on my face, but I did my best to clean the dried blood from around the tender stitches.  I dressed myself in a fresh set of clothes and returned to my room to apply salve to my injuries.  Once I was cleaned, dressed, and salved I moved to the exit of my small building - I had begun to think of it as mine since I shared it with no one else - and proceeded outside.  There was a new guard on duty already, and he turned to me as I exited into the darkness of early morning.

“Malice says you are off your training schedule for the next two days, until your injuries have time to begin knitting themselves back together.”  His voice was a guttural rumble, similar to that of Ethaniel and Tempest, and his mouth was lined with the razor teeth I had seen on a few others as well.  I had grown accustomed the effect of what the Knights called “The Voice,” over the four months I'd been at Fell Rock, but it still sent a chill down my spine whenever I heard it.  I didn't know this particular Knight.  I could see nothing of the rest of his body, hidden as it was beneath his shifting cloak, though I noted that he had close cropped, pale hair, and there were two holes cut in his hood to allow the protruding of a pair of wolf-like ears, black and gray furred.

“Thank you, sir.  Might I ask your name?”  I asked, as politely as possible.  The words did not come out as clearly as I might have liked, but my lips were swollen and sore, and talking pulled at the stitches in a most uncomfortable way.

“I am Lithe.”  He said, in the same rumbling voice.

“I am Lowin.”  I replied, and added.  “Though, I suppose you already know that.  I intend to go to the practice field, whether I have set training today or not, will that be a problem?”  I asked him, not wanting to argue the point if he said it was not all right, but also not wanting to sit alone in my room all day long.  That gave me too much time to worry, and I didn't think I could stay sane if I had too much time to do that.

“I do not see a problem with that.  No one said that you were not allowed to train if you so wished, only that you would not be required to do so.”  He nodded then smiled a toothy grin, one that held no particular malice or ill intent.  I liked him better than Wisp already.

“Alright,” I said, “Let us be off.”  He followed me dutifully to the practice field, a quiet but ever present guard.  I wondered, briefly, if Wisp might try and track me down alone some time, to finish what she had started.  I also wondered if that really bothered me.  I knew it should, but I had hard time being frightened at the prospect.  I made my way to the balance course, intent upon besting my performance on it from the day before, but not sure that I was up to the challenge.  Most of my body felt fine, but I was learning that there were many different, unconscious motions that caused the cuts across my face to pull and twist.  I stepped onto the first pole in the balance training area and prepared myself to move.  I found my first steps to be remarkably easy and I let myself pick up speed as I went, each step going a little faster than the last.  By the time I reached the midpoint I was moving as quickly as I ever had before, each foot seeming to find a place to rest of its own volition.  I realized, then, that I had finally felt out my center of balance.  The exercise of the day before must have awoken my body's natural ability to identify that invisible focus point and now I was unconsciously balancing with that in mind.  I flew through the remainder of the course with relative ease, although landing the last jump still caused me some trouble.  I didn't have to use my hand to assist me, however, and I considered that a vast improvement.  Over all, I felt that I had bested my old time by a considerable margin.

I looked back over my shoulder, and in the early light of rising dawn I could see Lithe removing his cloak, two hand and a half swords, as well as their scabbards and belt. I wondered what he was doing.  I only had to consider it for a moment, for after he had stowed his weapons and cloak in a pile he approached the balance poles.  Without his cloak on I could see that his features were similar to that of many of the Knights I had met.  He had the familiar fur clad arms and legs, though I noted he had small sails upon his back as well.  They were not larger wings as those Ethaniel had sported, but small, muscular protuberances of flesh that looked more decorative than functional.

Lithe sprung nimbly to the first pole of the course, his clawed feet giving him perfect purchase on it.  A moment later he started on a tumbling course through the poles, flipping and spinning amidst them with more grace than I had ever witnessed at even the most spectacular of traveling shows in my home city.  Sometimes he would land on a hand, sometimes on a foot, but no matter how he landed he was ready to propel himself on to the next curved hold with little effort.  Halfway through the course, he used his massive strength to throw himself far into the air.  His sails opened up, leathery and slightly larger than they'd seemed when they had been folded on his back.  He didn't flap them, or try to propel himself with them, but instead he glided down and landed on another of the poles before tucking them back behind him and continuing his mad course of somersaults and flips across the balance obstacles.  They worked to slow him, but not much else.  He landed on the final pole of the course after a half twist down from a single arm handstand off the position before it.  Lithe stepped to the ground nonchalantly.

“I was always good at this.”  He explained with a sly grin that was infectious, or at least would have been had my face not hurt so badly when I tried to grin back.  Lithe returned to the beginning of the obstacle and collected his things.  I returned to the beginning of the obstacle as well, and prepared to tackle it again.  There was no chance that I could come anywhere near to matching Lithe's performance, but I wanted to repeat the exercise until I could stick the final landing at the end without nearly falling.  Without Malice to guide my practice, I decided I would work on the points I knew were my weakest.

I had been hard at work for nearly five hours before Malice happened by.  I could immediately tell by the look her face that she was not happy that I had chosen to spend the day on the practice field despite having been given the day off.  I had not seen such an angry expression on her face since before our night of shared grief.  I subconsciously took a step backward, only noticing it after my foot had already moved.

“Are you attempting to make your wounds worse?”  Malice snapped, the ire obvious in her voice, though I noted, with a certain amount of relief, that there was also a hint of concern straining her tones.  “If you don't rest, the scarring will be worse, and you risk infecting the cuts that Merrywin has worked so hard to clean and stitch.  You are irresponsible.  And you,” She turned her wrath on Lithe.  “You should know better, Lithe.  I chose you for this detail because you are level headed and reasonable.  At least I thought you were, but it seems you can't even take care of one half-crippled trainee.”

Lithe smiled his toothy smile.  “You didn't forbid the boy's exercise, and he seemed intent upon his course.”  He rumbled, and seeing that his explanation had not appeased my instructor he added, “Besides, I remember when you came out to train after you were run through by the Fell Beast, still bleeding from the terrible wound that should have ended your life, you dragged yourself to this very obstacle,” He indicated the balance poles, looking at it with eyes that saw through the ages.  “If I recall correctly, you proceeded to force yourself across it time and time again before I finally found you where you’d collapsed in the center of it, and had to carry you back to your bed.”  Lithe gazed at me with his sharp, all-seeing black eyes.  “This one quite reminds me of you, Malice.  There is a fire in him that burns bright and hot.  He has your determination and, I think, a bit of your anger - though he hides it well.”

Malice's face may have softened to some minor degree, but she still looked fearsome to me.  “I was fine.  The wounds were not nearly as bad as everyone believed.  I already had my ability to heal, and though the wound hadn't closed up, I was in no real danger.  It was my balance that cost me the injury in the first place.  I owed it to myself to better my skills.”

Lithe raised an eyebrow.  “There are many who would say that any wound on a Knight of Ethan that is still bleeding after a full day of healing is one which deserves special care.  I would be inclined to agree.”

Malice sighed, obviously exasperated with her fellow Knight.  I was smiling inwardly.  Malice was a complex person.  She was soft and tender, encased a shell of hardness and emotional severity that was difficult to chip away.  I almost hoped that she and Lithe would continue to argue, as it offered some insight into Malice's past that I was lacking.  Malice ended the argument, though with a forceful declaration.  “Fine.”  She snapped.  “I'll not chastise you, Lowin, for doing some training, but you will do no more today and may only do more tomorrow if Merrywin gives you the clear after she checks on you this evening.  Do you understand me?”  She was looking at me with her jet black eyes, and they left no room for negotiation.  I nodded quickly, not interested in raising her ire any more than I had already.  Whatever else she might be, Malice was a friend and I had few enough of those without angering the ones I had.  After a moment she added, “Are we clear, Lithe?”

Lithe smiled his answer, and Malice frowned in a way which made her very attractive face much less so.  When she smiled, it was pure beauty but when she scowled it was something else entirely.  She snapped around and walked away and I jumped down from the practice poles and began the short walk back to my room.  I was not eager to return to the empty, quiet space of my building.  There was little for me to do there but think of all the things I didn't wish to ponder.  Much against my better judgment, my mind was already beginning to wander once again back to so many of the things troubling me.  Silent was still lost.  I wanted to ask Malice about that, to see if there were any updates on his situation.  However, I wasn't supposed to know he was missing so I couldn't very well ask Lithe or one of the others.  I would need to go see Malice at some point and talk to her alone.

Kye's time was growing shorter and I didn't know how short it was.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to know exactly how little time remained, but at the same time I was terrified not to know.  I wondered what Kyeia spent her days doing, if she worried as much as I did about everything that was happening.  I never thought to ask her when we were together because there always seemed to be something else to do or talk about.  I suspected that we both were simply doing our best to avoid talking about that which troubled us the most.  Did it do us any good to dwell on the negative reality of the situation?  I didn't believe so.

My lunch was waiting for me in my room when I arrived but I left it for the time being so that I might get a bath and scrub away the grime of training.  The water was warm and relaxing and I used it to make sure my wounds were as clean as I could get them, though putting water on the fresh cuts made them burn with a renewed ferocity.  I found a certain solace in the pain and I lost myself in it for a short time.  It is a strange thing, pain, that it can so remove you from the present and envelope you in its world.  I felt it probably didn't reflect well on me that I'd rather be lost in physical pain than dwell on the rest of my life.  That was the way of cowards, I realized.  It was easy to look for ways to avoid problems, but what I really needed to do was find a way to face those problems.  I might not be able to defeat them but I must at least be willing to accept them.  Recognizing that truth was easy, achieving the realization of the recognition was another matter entirely.  I knew that if I couldn't find a way to move forward, past the anguish that was consuming my heart, I might never be the man that Kye and the others wanted me to be.  I owed them far too much to defeat myself before I had even started.

“I will be stronger, Kye,” I said to the empty bathing room, and to myself.  “I have to be better. I will be better.” The echo of my voice did little to strengthen my resolve.

Three days went by and though Kye did manage to come back to visit me again, she came under the watchful gaze of another of her people.  The visit was brief, and when it was over I was left feeling little better than I had before she'd come.  My wounds, though, were healing well.  The stitches were out already and the knitting of my flesh was complete, though the scars that ran their course across my countenance were bright red and ugly.  I knew that in time they would fade to pink, and then to white and I would have some semblance of normality to my appearance.  What alarmed me the most was the speed with which my body had closed the vicious cuts.  Even with the salve Merrywin had provided, I should have taken much longer to recover from the damage inflicted upon me by Wisp's claws.  I was changing, and I knew that it was a result of my connection to Kyeia.  Part of my improvement through training was for the same reason, I was aware.  Despite my hard work, I should not have come so far, so quickly, on my own.  I was getting stronger, faster, and becoming more tuned to my bodies most subtle workings.  Years of training may have done the same thing without help but in a little over four months I had improved beyond reason.  I was still no match for any of the full Knights of Ethan, but most normal people would have been hard pressed to outrun me, outfight me, or outmaneuver me.  It was difficult to be proud of the power I'd obtained, knowing that it was not all from my hard work, more difficult still knowing the ultimate price to be paid.

Looking out my small window, I realized that it was still dark outside. I guessed there to be four or more hours until dawn would begin creeping over the horizon but I was finished sleeping, I wasn't tired, and my mind was racing.  I pushed myself up in bed, grabbed my clothes, and threw them on hastily, deciding that I would use my wakefulness to go speak to Malice.  I didn't know if she would be awake or not, but I needed to talk to her, and I had the time to do so.  I stepped out through the door to my building and walked past Lithe.  He fell in behind me, and I realized that he would likely follow me all the way into Malice's office if I let him.  I was too troubled to come up with a good excuse, so I decided I would just try the truth.

“I'm going to see Malice, Lithe.  I have a personal matter I must discuss with her.”  I said by way of explanation.

He shrugged, “I will walk you to her residence and then wait outside.  It is my duty, after all.”

I nodded, realizing that was the biggest concession I would get from the stolid knight.  “Thank you,” I told him, and continued on my way across the Fell Rock compound.  True to his word, Lithe waited at the door as I entered the building housing Malice's private quarters.  I walked directly to the door I knew led to her bedroom as I didn't think she would be working in her office so late at night.  Before I even knocked on the door, it swung open and I found myself face to face with an angry looking Malice, though her features softened when she saw it was me.  Her hair was down, though her Lucidil Cloak was about her shoulders.  She stepped through the door frame, looking both ways, but seeing that it was just me she relaxed even further.

“I heard you coming. Your steps are too heavy.  What can I do for you, Lowin?”  She said, stepping back from her door and gesturing for me to come in.

I stepped into her bedroom, ignoring her criticism of my movement, taking note that her bed was still made and that there was a candle burning at the desk, an opened book lying upon it.  “I wanted to talk with you.”  I began.  “It's difficult to do so during the day, and I couldn't sleep tonight.  I hope I'm not bothering you.”  The last was an apology, which I figured was owed any time one intruded on someone else in what was, technically, the middle of the night.

“No,” She replied.  “The Knights of Ethan do not have much need of sleep.  More than two or three hours of rest in a night is nearly too much sleep.  I fill my waking hours with reading and honing my skills.”  I heard a shuffle of material and looked around to see her removing her cloak and sword belt.  Other than those two items, she was wearing only her long shirt, laced up the front, just as it had been that night a few weeks before.  Despite my physical excitement, a natural response I had little control over, tonight I did not desire such an intimacy and I think Malice sensed that.  She sat down on her bed and pulled her blankets about her.  I was amazed at how youthful and innocent she looked wrapped in the blankets from her bed.  I put the thought aside.

“Has there been any word on Silent?”  I asked, for that was the easiest of the many questions that plagued my mind.  Many of the others I feared to ask, particularly the one that had been the driving force behind me coming to see my mentor.

Malice shook her head.  “He is still missing, and despite a rigorous combing of the area, we still haven't found any signs of his passing.  Our best trackers have looked, and it's as though he simply vanished into the night.  We even went through his private quarters, hoping to find some clue to his whereabouts, but everything in his room was as it should be.  If he left intentionally, he didn't take any of the supplies one would assume a warrior would take for the road.  All of his weapons and all of his extra clothing are in their proper places.”

That news did little to ease my mind.  If anything, I was now more worried than ever before about my quiet friend.  I had hoped that he had merely deserted the Knights, as grim a possibility as that might have been, at least I would have known that he was alive and well somewhere.  More and more I was beginning to question if that were so.   If there had been foul play, who could have been responsible?  Those at Fell Rock were all trusted servants of the king, but foul play would suggest that some were not as trustworthy as they seemed.  Assuming that worst case scenario, and assuming that someone had betrayed the king and the Knights, the next question would have to be, "Who would have the power to abduct or murder a Knight without leaving any trace?"  I voiced my concerns to Malice.

“I've thought of that.  The only conclusion I could come to, was that the one responsible must be another, powerful, Knight of our order.  That is not a thought I relish.  If one of our own has turned against us, does that not imply that others might as well?”  Malice's voice was agitated, nervous.  “I'm hoping that is not the case.”  I nodded my agreement, deciding it was time to change the subject.  The next question I had was one that I did not want to ask.  I hesitated, caught on the cusp of forcing the words out.  I needed to ask the question, but I so feared the answer that I sat in silence, chewing at my newly healed lower lip.

“What is it you need to ask, Lowin?  We have worked together for four months now and I can tell when something is troubling you.”  Malice probed, and it was only through her probing that I finally forced myself to ask the question I feared most of all, the one that had driven me to come to her in the first place.

“How much longer does Kyeia have?”  I wasn't sure if Malice would have an answer, but if she did, I needed to know.  The uncertainty was tearing me apart.  I sat awake in my room most nights, pondering the question, and telling myself repeatedly that it didn't matter how much time was left, I should simply enjoy what I had.  I would have had more success telling my heart to cease beating.

Malice seemed to shrink back into her bedding a little.  She turned her eyes away from mine, looking at the wall, the floor, anywhere but at me.  “I thought you might ask that, you know.  The minute I saw you at my door, I suspected you might be here for that very question.”  Her evasion made me worry even more.  Could the time be down to just a matter of weeks, I wondered?  When she spoke again, she spoke hesitantly.  “She has two, maybe three days, Lowin.  There is a certain timing to it, though I know not how it's figured.  Kyeia told me when she came to check on you today.  I had hoped you wouldn't ask.”

The color fled my face and for a moment I thought my heart might stop after all, or break into a thousand pieces from pure sorrow.  I remembered to take a breath and found that I had not been breathing for too long and my head swam.  “Th... there was sup... supposed to be at least another week.”  I stammered.

Malice looked at me, and her eyes were full of sympathy, “The binding process has gone far faster for you two than it has for any other Knight and Bound One in the past.  We all thought there would be more time.”

I couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything.  I forced myself to get mechanically to my legs and stepped towards the door, any other questions I may have had were gone now.  There was a flash of motion from my peripheral vision and Malice was then behind me, the bedding still falling back into place on the bed where she had left it.  “Are you going to be alright, Lowin?”  She asked, her hand on my shoulder.  “You can stay here if you need to.”  The invitation, meant in the best possible way, I knew, only made my heart ache worse.  I felt that taking any comfort from Malice, whether it was simply being held, or the full lust of physical passion, would be the greatest betrayal of Kyeia possible.

I shook my head.  “I must go, but I'll be on the practice field in a few hours.  I'll see you then.”  I pushed the words out through my tears, not letting my voice waver at all.  The hallway and the walk back to my own room passed in a blur.  Lithe said nothing to me the entire time, and whether he sensed how troubled I was, or was quiet for another reason I did not know, but I was happy for it just the same.  I didn't want to try and force myself to hold a reasonable conversation.  When I finally reached my bed, I lay quietly and stared up at the ceiling.  A trickle of tears fell from my eyes, but there was no great release as I'd had in the past.  I forced the sadness from me, knowing that Kye would be aware of it, and instead I grabbed on to my feelings for her, and made myself embrace every happy moment we'd shared together.  For the rest of the night, I decided, I would concentrate only on the best aspects of our time together.  She would not feel any more heartache from me.  As I sat, remembering our short time together, wrapping myself in the warmth of those times, I felt a similar heat flowing back into me from some distance away.  Wherever Kye was, she was remembering with me.

Over the next two days training became everything in my world.  I pushed myself as hard as I reasonably could, and when I was worn to the point of exhaustion, I forced myself further.  When the day ended, and Malice forced me to return to my room for the night, a troubled look about her features, I ran my way back to my room hoping beyond hope that Kye might be there.  I didn't sleep through the nights, but sleep didn't seem important anymore.  A few hours of sleep sufficed to get me ready to go, yet another indication of my agitated state and the near completion of the bond between Kye and me.  As I sat alone, waiting for Kyeia to come to me, I concentrated, focusing on all the happiness I'd felt in my time with her and often I would feel the returned thoughts from her, wherever she might be.  In a way, it was like being with her.  Time still passed too quickly.

It was late the on the second day after I'd spoken to Malice in her room that the Knights of Ethan came for me.  I recognized two of the three that showed up that night, but the other was new to me.  The two I did recognize I didn't know well enough to identify by name.  They all looked very similar beneath their shifting cloaks but I could point out the subtle differences that the average person wouldn't notice.  One had mid-length brown hair, tied loosely back, a kind face, and seemed near my own age, though judging the actual age of Knights was impossible.  I guessed her to be young though, she smiled nervously at me as the three of them crammed themselves into my tiny room.  The man nearest me, the one I didn't recognize, was about my own height with short, dark hair.  His features were hard, and I sensed in him an emotional fortitude that denied all joy in his life.  He was the sort who'd never crack a smile and probably only laughed when he was swinging his sword.  The other Knight had long blond hair that hung in wispy strands about his face.  He seemed thin to the point of gauntness and there was a haunted look about his features.  I sensed no ill intent from any of the three but at the same time there was an air of turmoil in the room that was so thick it made me feel as though I would choke.  I had some idea of what was happening, though I wasn't supposed to, and that forbidden knowledge put me on edge.

There was a calming emotion channeling towards me from some distance away.  Kye was aware of what was happening too, and she was trying to project her calm on to me.  I felt my breath coming in ragged drags.  I got to my feet and my knees felt weak beneath me.  Still, the calming flow poured into me, and helped abate the chaos that threatened to burst free from me at any moment.

“Lowin,” The fierce, stone faced one spoke for the three assembled Knights.  “Tonight, you are to rise to Knighthood.  Come with us.”  The way it was phrased, telling me I was to “rise to Knighthood,” it almost seemed like something good was about to happen.  If I hadn't known the truth, perhaps I would have been excited instead of terrified.  If it wasn't for Kye's constant rhythm of calming thoughts and feelings, I may have tried to bolt from the room, but she steadied me enough that I was able to step forward to follow the three Knights.  The female Knight and the gaunt Knight each took one of my arms.  The girl's hands were those of a human woman, but the gaunt Knight had dragon-scaled claws that fastened like a vice about my right bicep.

I had never asked exactly what was to happen, or how the process of taking Kye's eyes, and life, would be carried out.  I hadn't wanted to know, but now I found that I did.  She was going to die and I wanted to know that they would make it as painless as possible.  I wanted to know that at least she wouldn't die terrified and screaming.  I believed that they wouldn't allow such thing, for cruelty of such a nature should never be allowed, no matter what the gain.  This ritual of murder and power was terrible enough, without such a heavy burden as that being leveled at the future Knight.  Kyeia's calm was still radiating.  I grasped on to that, holding it as tightly as I would have held her had she been there.  “I love you, Kye.”  I repeated the words again and again in my mind, not even paying attention to where the Knights were leading me.  When I finally did notice my surroundings again, we were already inside the big manor house, heading down a flight of stairs into a dark, stone walled area that I guessed to be below ground.

“You'll be alright.”  I heard the woman at my side whisper.  “It'll all be over before you know it and in a few days you'll feel better than you ever have before.”  It was nice of her to try and comfort me but the words had the opposite effect and I had to force myself to find that stream of calmness being cast out by Kye.  I knew that I was getting closer to her, because the feelings from her were becoming clearer.  Behind the stream of calm was a wall of fear equal to, and every bit as terrible, as my own.  I tried to extend my own sense of calm to her, though much like hers it was a facade simply trying to cover the emotions beneath.

It seemed only a short walk later that we reached our destination, a room far below Fell Rock Manor.  If a room can be said to be evil, then this one was.  There were two stone slabs set with metal and leather straps sat squarely in the center of a well-lit stone room.  The walls had been tarred, making them appear slick and black.  Stationed around the room were four more Knights of Ethan, one of which was standing between the two stone slabs.  Kyeia was lying on the slab furthest from me, and from where I was standing I could see the ragged rise- and fall of her chest, and the pale, sweat-glistened cast to her skin.  The wall of fear I felt behind the projection of her calm, must have been small compared to the fear she was really feeling.  I stepped back, but the arm of the gaunt man held me tight.

“There is no going back.  We all try, but...”  He let the words fall away.  Before I knew what was happening, the woman and the gaunt faced man lifted me from the ground and forced me onto the vacant stone slab.  The others in the room began to move, coming forward to fasten the metal clasps to my wrists and ankles, a leather strap was secured around my forehead, locking my gaze on the ceiling.  Before I realized I was doing it, I was struggling, fighting at the metal and leather that held me in place, but the clamps were powerful, as were those around the table who held me firmly down.  The man who had been standing between the stones leaned over me, his black eyes locking on mine.

“No matter what, Lowin, do not let yourself lose consciousness during this process.  If you do, you will die.  We are about to bestow upon you the full title of Knighthood and it is a painful process.”  His tone was serious, and his features firm, but he smiled before speaking the next part.  “We have all undergone it, and very few have died.  Do not be afraid, my boy, be proud of what you are about to become.”  He spoke with pride, and a sense of duty that came from his knowledge that he would soon usher in another Knight of Ethan.  For him, and for those around the room, I was at the cusp of receiving a great honor and my fear was entirely the fear of the unknown and the foreknowledge of pain.  For me, the only thing in the world that mattered at that moment, was the terrified girl laying too far away for me to hold or protect, the girl whose life was about to come to an end because of me.  I opened my mouth to scream out, but when my mouth opened a rough chunk of leather was pressed and held in place by one of those around me.

“Bite down, this is going to hurt.”  A woman's voice whispered, different from the one who'd followed me down the stairs.  I didn't recognize her, and a moment later I didn't care that she existed.  A muffled scream, Kye's muffled scream, sounded from next to me and I desperately tried to turn my head to see what was happening.  I didn't need to though, because I could feel it.  Kyeia's wall of calm fell as a terrible pain tore into her left eye socket, and suddenly I was overcome by fear and pain that wasn't my own.  So trapped in her feelings was I, that I almost didn't notice the last thing I would ever see with my own eyes.  The knife came in fast.  It was just a glint in the light, and then all light exploded away from my right eye and, half a second later, my left.  I was surrounded by darkness, and the echo of Kye's screams, muffled, I guessed, by a chunk of leather like my own, reverberating from the stone walls all around me.  I didn't scream, couldn't make myself do it at all.  There was so much pain and darkness, and all I could do was struggled to stay conscious.  “I love you, Kye.  I love you.”  I thought it over and over again, tried to say it though I couldn't through the block in my mouth.  I ignored the pain, and whatever it was they were doing to my empty eye sockets.  None of it mattered.  I don't recall exactly how long it all went on, but I finally heard a voice, and realized that it was all I could hear.

“It's done, you can pass out now.”  It was a male voice, I thought possibly the gaunt man. It didn't matter though.  The room was so quiet.  I couldn't hear Kye screaming anymore, it had stopped a little while before, and I couldn't feel her anymore.  There was no fear, no calm, no horror, no love only a great emptiness where all that had been before.  I was alone.  I let my mind fall into the darkness, hoping beyond reason, that I wouldn't come back from it, and, failing that, that I might not suffer to dream, because I knew only too well how haunted my dreams would be.

I was devoured by a darkness so deep I thought I might never wake to the light again.  Pain pounded at my bones in waves, rushing from the sockets that now held the eyes of the woman I had destroyed, and out into my heart and limbs like streaks of burning fire running through my body in place of the blood that normally pulsed there.  I was being changed from the inside out.  My bones were restructuring, lengthening in places where they were too short, thickening in places where they were too thin, and smoothing in places where they were too rough.  Every muscle groaned and churned as their density increased, the fibers of my very being honed to perfection like the edge of master smith's finest sword.

All around me voices floated in and out of my perception, various people coming to see my progress from man to monstrosity, each offering their own commentary on the process as though it were some great play performed on a stage for their amusement, and I was the key player performing my greatest role.

“He didn't scream out at all during the ritual.”  One voice would whisper.

“His heart must be stone. I heard he didn't once beg for her life, or his own.”  Another answered.

“They say he'll be strong.”  Yet another said, and the voices went on through the darkness, each passing judgment on me for what I was and what I might be.  It continued for a span of time that may have been a day or may have been a year - I couldn't tell, lost within my own world of grief and pain.  I know only that, for a short time, there was a fearsome storm of noise and chaos and that was followed by a quiet time, and then a warm hand holding mine.  It didn't last, but that time was the closest I had to peace while the damage to my body healed and the changes to my being continued.  The quiet time passed and the voices came back again to congratulate me or make speculations about my potential.

At some point, the voice of Ethaniel himself came to me through the darkness.  “You've come far from the boy I saw four months ago, Lowin.  You will go much, much further.  Welcome to the Knights.”  He said no more, but I felt a strong, fatherly grip on my shoulder.  He was gone after that.  The feel of his grip lingered on my shoulder, though, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that touch.  I was supposed to be proud, happy to have risen to a new level in my training.  I was now considered a Knight of Ethan, still in training, but a Knight full.  Yet, from the dark place of grief and pain, I felt nothing but a growing contempt for the Knights.  They spoke of honor and duty, but I couldn't fathom how an order of honor and duty could be built upon a pedestal of deceit and brutal murder and what did that say of my king, a man who I had always thought was a pinnacle of justice?  Where were justice, honor, and duty in a world that killed a young woman for no purpose other than to create a better weapon?

There was silence again, for a time, all but the sound of a single person moving about my room.  I heard the clank of a metal tray being placed on the table next to me, and realized that it must be Merrywin, come to bring me a meal.  I tried to open my eyes, and realized my eyes were open, but that I couldn't see anything.  I panicked, reaching up to feel my face, and encountered a cloth bandage wrapped around my head.  Of course, I realized belatedly, I was still in the process of healing.

“Don't be playing with that just yet, Lowin.”  Merrywin's voice said, and it, unlike the other voices, held a tone of sympathy and warmth.  “It'll be another day or two before you are able to see anything and until then you need to keep the bandage on.”

I let my hand fall away.  It had hurt to move it anyway.  My entire body hurt constantly, a result of the changes occurring within me.  I wondered if they would come and tell me exactly what was transpiring, since I wasn't supposed to know anything about what was happening.  I thought of Kye, but I couldn't bring her face to my mind without hearing her terrified scream again and again.  “I am a monster.”  I said aloud, and it was the culmination of all my thoughts that led me to that conclusion.  For all that the Knights of Ethan had deceived me, and forced me into much of what had happened over the last four months, I could not deny that I was also responsible.  Kyeia was dead because of me.

“If that were true, do you think I'd be bringing you lunch?”  Merrywin asked.  “You're no more a monster than any of them.  Black eyes or not, they're all basically human.  I've learned that over the years of working with them.”  I could hear the smile in her words.  I realized that she thought I was worried that the black eyes made me look like a monster and I lapsed back into silence.  As good a person as Merrywin was, she wasn't in a position to understand what had transpired.  In truth, I didn't believe that she even knew exactly what transpired in the creation of a Knight.  I really wanted to believe that she didn't know what tortures were carried out in the basement of Fell Rock Manor because if she knew and could still smile and tell me that I wasn't a monster, then she was not the good natured healer I thought she was.  She did not stay long when she realized that I was done talking.  I ate my meal, not hungry, but needing to do something to make the time pass.  My limbs responded hesitantly to my instructions, screaming in angry pain as they were forced to move against a body that was still changing on the inside.  I had one more day, maybe two, before my eyes- Kye's eyes- would be working again, if what Merrywin said had been accurate.  Until that time I was in no position to do anything, but what would I do, I wondered, once I was able to see again?  Could I, in good conscience, stay with the Knights?  What would Kye want?  I thought that she would tell me to stay.  She had believed in the cause.  Indeed, she had given her life freely to the cause.  Though she had, I reminded myself, not had any choice in the matter.  She had been bound by pact.  I was not so bound.  I had free will and that meant I must choose a path.

I lay back in my bed. The pain was beginning to subside, though I still hurt everywhere.  I ignored the screaming of my body and thought of the future.  That was no easy task.  Without Kyeia, what did the future really hold for me?  Would I stay as a servant to a man who killed the innocent to craft weapons or would I run away from it all and be killed, never doing anything with the gift Kye had given me?  If I did stay, could I ignore the horror that stood at the root of the Knights of Ethan?  There was no clear cut choice, no good and evil sides from which to choose.  I was at a loss.  The logical side of me said that I should stay and serve my king and country, carry out the future that Kye had intended for me.  That seemed the easiest choice of all, but a deep rage burned in my heart.  My king allowed a young girl, one who I loved greater than my own life, to die so that I could wield a sword better.  My life was now a sick half-existence forged of two lives and my king would have me be no more than a puppet set to preserve the peace.  I balled my hands into fists, sending fresh waves of pain through my arms, into my shoulders.  I unclenched them and sighed.

What was I to do?  In the perpetual darkness of my sightless world, there was little for me to do but fall back into my pain and sleep away existence, hoping clearer answers might present themselves in the morning.

The darkness of sleep was quickly and shockingly thrust into the darkness of being awake as an earth shaking explosion knocked me from my bed to the cool stone floor of my room.  I scrambled to my feet, looking about in vain, before remembering that my eyes were still bandaged and healing.  Another explosion tore through the air and I almost lost my footing as the ground jumped beneath my bare feet.  Distantly I could hear the sound of voices raised in alarm and the groan of rock walls crumbling.  There was a chill on my skin and I realized that I wasn't dressed.  Not wanting to face whatever disaster might be beyond my door without my clothes, I made my way blindly to my wardrobe and felt within for clothing.  My hands passed over the stack that should have been my shirts and encountered an unfamiliar fabric.  It was smoother than the rough shirts I'd had since arriving but upon further probing with my fingers I discovered that it was indeed a shirt and if it was in my room, it was likely intended for me.  I felt my way around the shirt and eventually determined the front from the back, pulling it on over my head.  My body was still sore, aching all the way to the bone, but I ignored it as I found my pants and drew them up, fastening the clasps at the waist with some difficulty.  The pants, too, were different from my normal attire and it was difficult to fasten a clasp I had never seen.  As I worked, dressing as quickly as I could without my sight, I noted a sharp increase in noise beyond my room.  Voices were raised in anger, and I could hear the sounds of weapons clashing in the yard beyond my walls.  I didn't know what was happening but I suspected that we were under attack.  Even as I finished fastening the lace of my final boot, another explosion tore through the air with such percussive force that I was blasted from my feet and thrown against the north wall of bedroom, the one furthest from the outside wall of Fell Rock Post.  Shrapnel hit me, small pieces of rock ripping gashes in my flesh and larger chunks pelting me roughly.  A breeze followed the debris, and I realized with alarm that the outside wall to my room had collapsed entirely.

“Lithe?”  I called, hoping someone might be around to tell me what was happening.  “Malice?”  There was no answer.  To be alone, blind, and lost amidst an alien chaos, is a terrible feeling.  A great roaring suddenly filled the air, a bestial yell so loud and terrifying that I immediately shut my mouth and went as still as I could manage to make myself. The chaos of weapons clashing and screaming stopped for a moment as well, at the monstrous roar that had so filled the night.

“To arms, to arms!”  I heard someone yelling but I didn't recognize the voice and didn't dare call out again lest I bring down upon myself whatever evil lay outside.

The air about me was filled with a sulfurous smell, acrid and bitter, that I took to be the sign of some man-made explosive.  I had encountered similar smells at the sky fire festivals held in Danivil during the summer every year.  There the explosions had been smaller and created to entertain but even then my mind had considered the possibility of applying the same basic formula, in greater quantities, for use as a weapon.  I had, at the time, thought it merely a foolish flight of fancy.  I stumbled forward, tripping over the debris lined floor of my room, looking for the door that would lead me back out the front of my building.  Had I been able to see, I probably could have exited through the hole in the side of my room and traveled faster, but I dared not risk such a thing with my eyes still blind.  My hand closed on the handle to my door and I turned it and pushed it open.  There was an unsettling breeze traveling down the hallway beyond my room, unsettling for the fact that there were no windows in that hallway.

“Lithe?”  I called quietly down the length of the hallway.  There was no answer.  Somewhere distant, a deep thump shook the ground, followed by another in a slow but rhythmic pattern.  Another roar sundered the air, so loud I moved my hands to cover my ears, and again the fighting outside seemed to subside for a moment, only to return a few seconds later.  The rhythmic thumping came again, drawing nearer with every quaking pound of the ground.

Beyond my room I heard someone yell, “Lantern Eye, at the south wall!”  Other voices followed, and then the sounds of battle were everywhere and I could hear nothing again.  I knew not what a Lantern Eye was, but the roaring and the thumping that I took to be footsteps had come from the direction of the south wall.

I made my way cautiously down the hallway towards the door, occasionally calling for Lithe, who should have been at my door, on guard duty.  I stayed close to the right wall, guiding my hand along it and using it as a guide.  I was afraid to call too loudly, not wanting to attract unwanted attention and after a short time I stopped calling at all.  If Lithe had been there, he would have heard me by that time, especially with his sensitive hearing.  I took another step and hit my foot on a crumbled section of wall.  I tried to picture how far I'd come down the hallway.  I thought I was near the end, the door should have been just a step or two further away.  I slid my foot forward, cautiously looking for a safe place to set it down, but everywhere I tried was covered in debris.  I moved to the opposite wall, tripping once or twice on loose rocks in my path.  Once I had reached the opposite wall, I probed my foot forward, searching for a way to advance, and once more finding that my foot seemed to encounter rock or broken wood everywhere I searched.  I grit my teeth, angered by the situation.  I reached up and began unfastening the bindings on my head.  Healing be damned, I would probably die if I couldn't see so I decided the risk of uncovering my eyes was less than that of stumbling blindly through a war zone.  The bandages were secured by a knot that took some dexterity to clear, but in a moment I had the knot free and was able to begin the process of unwinding the cloth from my head.  While I unwrapped my head, I took note that my hands still felt human.  I hadn't grown claws and fur like some of the Knights had.  Neither had my legs changed, at least outwardly, for all that I could tell.  I wondered what that meant, but I really didn't have much time to think about it then, for I had finally managed to slip the last layer covering my eyes.  I immediately had to squeeze them shut as the world seemed to burst into a field of light.

I gasped aloud, and had to clap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from making any further noise.  I hadn't expected the pain, or the brightness.  I moved the hand from over mouth to cover my eyes instead, and noted that I couldn't feel any noticeable scarring or damage in the area around my eyes.  At least the flesh had finished healing.  I opened a small gap between my fingers and tried just barely opening my right eye.  Pain assailed me, like knives being stabbed into my brain and I had to close the eye immediately.  I had seen vague, formless shapes and color but nothing else before I'd had to snap my eye shut.  I took a few deep breaths to steady myself.  Another terrible roar blasted through the air, coming from the vicinity of the south wall, where the sound of battle was the loudest.

I forced myself to peer out between my fingers again, and again the pain was intense so that I could only look for a short time.  I managed to make out some patterns through the blurs, but not enough to feel confident about moving forward.  The best that I could judge, from the little I had glimpsed, was that the front of the building was mostly caved in, including the door frame and part of the first set of rooms.  I would need to climb over the rubble to extract myself from the building, otherwise I would have to risk going to my room and hoping that there was a safe way out through the hole that had been blasted there, and I couldn't even be certain that the hole there was large enough to exit.  I grabbed up my bandages from where they lay at my feet and went to work tying them, in a single layer, over my eyes.  That done, I tried opening my eyes again and found that while I still encountered terrible pain, the significant dimming of the light through the fabric was enough to allow me to leave them open.  The trade-off was that I could barely see anything through the fabric and what I could see was distorted by the cloth, as well as blurry and full of artificial halos of light that I took to be an effect caused by the incomplete healing of the eyes I possessed.  I felt a pang of guilt as I recalled the source of my new eyes but I forced it away.  Grief would have to wait, for now I needed to find myself some place safer, and someone to tell me what was going on.  I moved carefully to the pile of rock that had been the entryway to my building.  The going was slow and once I began the process of climbing it was slower still.  Often I would place a foot only to find that the rock I stood upon was not stable where it lay and then I would tumble back down the crumbling remnants of what had been my home for the last four months.  I was near the top of the pile when I heard voices coming towards me, speaking in quiet tones.  I stopped my climb and listened.

“...explosions came nearer this area than we thought.”  One voice said.

Another answered, but it was quiet, and I couldn't make out anything the second voice said.

“Yes, in this building.  He should have been in the room with the broken wall, but...”   The voice broke off as the rock beneath my right hand slipped from my grip and fell back behind me.  I had to struggle to keep myself from following it.  I hadn't wanted to let my position be known, not sure who owned the voices I heard, but there was little I could do.

“There he is!”  I heard the voice that had been speaking before say, obvious excitement and relief in the tone.

The other voice mumbled something, so quiet I couldn't hear, and then I felt a stirring of air and saw a motion before me, little more than a faint blur.

“Lithe, is that you?”  I asked, hoping to identify whether or not this person was friend or foe.  A roar swallowed up any answer the person standing just in front of me, on top of the pile of rubble, may have made.  The terrible sound of the Lantern Eye, for that is what I believed was roaring with such ferocity, was followed by the ever nearing sound of its footsteps, and then, there was a giant, moving darkness in my vision.  Something large, five or more stories tall, obscured the faint light that stung at my eyes and a putrid smell of death and char crept over me.

I felt a sharp pain in my arm, and looked up to see the blurred figure of a man, the one who had climbed the pile, leaning over me with something in his hand.  I wondered if he had stabbed me and I was about to raise my voice in protest, but the world began to get loose and shaky around me.  I found that my tongue felt heavy in my mouth and a moment later darkness swept over me, taking me far away from the world of monsters and mysterious voices.

When next I woke, the smell of smoke was in the air and the sky was bright with midday light.  What was more, I could see the brightness of the sky and felt no pain in doing so.  I moved my hands, feeling grass against my flesh.  I was outside.  I sat up and looked around where I lay.  It was early fall, the trees were changing color about me, and I felt like I was seeing the phenomenon for the first time in my life.  Every detail of every leaf was laid bare to my vision, from the smallest hole in their green fabric, to the subtle way two leaves brushed against each other in the slight breeze of the day. It was all crystal sharp and vibrant.  Things that moved seemed to leave almost a trace of their path, though it was not so noticeable that it distracted from the picture of the whole, simply another part of the tapestry of existence about me.  A fly swept across my field of vision, and my eyes tracked its movements with ease.  I could even make out the pattern of the wings as they moved, though the motion was a blur.  The path the insect cut through the air was lit in a soothing shade of blue that faded quickly but gave me a particular insight into the direction the fly was traveling.  I wondered, only for a moment, if I was lost in a dream, but the truth of situation was plain to me.  I was seeing the world through the eyes that Kye had given to me and it was truly a beautiful sight.  I suddenly felt close to her again, a surge of joy rippling through me and I wanted nothing more than to tell her about how beautiful everything looked.  At that thought reality took hold and I was forced to face the brutal truth.  I would never talk to Kye again.  I closed my eyes, feeling ashamed that I should be taking joy in the world around me while she was dead and gone.

“All the world is a wonder the first time you see out those eyes, isn't it?”  A voice asked, and I jumped in surprise, my eyes snapping open instantly.  I thought I was looking at a floating head for a split second, before my new eyes began to pick up on the rest of the details of the figure before me.  He was a Knight from what I could judge, dressed in a cloak, different from those I'd seen on the other Knights of Ethan, but of a similar styling.  While the Lucidil Cloaks I'd seen had always seemed to distort the edges and shift the appearance of the Knight wearing them, this individual's cloak seemed to be somehow reflecting the colors of the world behind him.  The effect was that he seemed to almost blend in to his surroundings when he was sitting still.  The illusion wasn't perfect, as the lines of the man's body still broke the pattern the fabric was trying to hold and the cloak seemed unable to exactly match every detail, but overall the effect was far more powerful than the shifting attire I'd seen before.  Next I noticed the other features of the man staring at me.  He had scraggly black hair that hung roguishly about his face and a short beard that matched his hair in haphazardness.  His features were soft at first glance but there was a hard edge about his eyes, a hint that he could draw on a commanding force of presence if he needed to. His hood was back, revealing a set of dark gray, wolf-like ears poking up through his black hair, but it was his eyes that were the most startling thing about him.  Most of the Knights had black eyes, though Ethaniel's eyes had held a barely visible tinge of blue.  The man looking at me now, had eyes as red as heart's blood, deep and crimson, broken only by the white circle of a pupil and its strange electric lines, constantly moving and shifting.

I pushed myself to my feet, taking a cautious step backward.  The man didn't move from where he was sitting on the ground.

“Who are you?  Where are we and what has become of Fell Rock?”  I asked, firing off the questions as quickly as they came to my mind.  Had I had a weapon, I would have drawn it, though I sensed no menace from the stranger.  There was a cooking fire between us.  The fire caught my eyes for a moment, flashing and tracing patterns through my vision that were so hypnotic I had to tear my attention away forcefully to get it back on the sitting man.

“That is a lot of questions for one to ask the man that so recently carried them away from certain death, but I suppose I can be nice and answer you, Lowin.”  The red-eyed man leaned back, his arms out behind him to hold himself in a reclined position.  Now that I could see the hands, I could see that he had dark gray-furred arms and clawed hands as well.  I had not seen a Knight with limbs completely covered in gray fur before and my curiosity rose further.  He seemed to be basking in the warmth of the sun, his hair falling back behind him.  “Since I know your name, it is only fair you know mine.  I think that is as good a place as any to begin.  Among the Knights I am known as Weaver.”  He introduced himself.  “I was Second in service under Ethaniel.  I came to Fell Rock in order to see you, the latest Knight of Ethan, because I had heard that you held great potential.”

“When I arrived at the Post, I found it besieged and had quite a difficult time getting myself in. The grounds were in chaos and the other Knights were already falling back.  I was getting ready to join the fray myself when I spotted you lying on the ground, about to be devoured by a Lantern Eye.  I saw the bandages around your eyes, that you were unconscious, and knew that if I didn't act quickly the newest Knight - and all of his potential - would be converted to fertilizer.  I'll not bore you with the details, but I managed to get you free from Fell Rock before it was beat into the ground.”

I sat down heavily.  “Does that mean... they're all dead?”  I asked, thinking of Malice and feeling a new burden of pain falling upon me.

“Oh no, Lowin, you misunderstand.  The Knights abandoned Fell Rock when they saw that it was lost.  They will reassemble elsewhere, gather their strength, and decide how best to proceed.”  He explained hastily, obviously seeking to offer some comfort to my frazzled emotional state.  “Some few have perished, of that I'm certain, but the majority will have fled to fight again.”

I was still confused, the events of the night before didn't make any sense to me.  “Why didn't we go with the others?”  I asked.

Weaver shrugged.  “It's standard procedure to divide and travel separately.  It makes us less of a target for those who might be looking for us.”

“Then we go to the rendezvous point to meet up with the others?”

“We will be heading south, where we will meet up with the rest of our forces,” he answered in a no nonsense manner.

I gave a sigh of relief.  Malice was a brilliant fighter, she would have survived, and I would have the chance to meet up with her again when we reached wherever we were going.  I couldn't quite dispel the nagging worry that she had fallen during the battle, but at the same time I at least had some hope.  Weaver, I thought, must be quite able as a warrior if he was able to save me from the giant beast that had come with the attackers at Fell Rock and then carry me away from the battle.  What was more important was that he knew where we needed to go.  Of course, maybe I didn't want to go back to the Knights.  Maybe I would be better off striking out on my own.  I thought about that for a short time, but came to the realization that I needed to at least see that Malice had survived the siege of Fell Rock before I could leave.  I had too many burdens on my heart already.  I would feel better if I could alleviate at least that one.  A thought occurred to me then, seeming to spring out of thin air.

“How did you know my name?”  I asked the red-eyed Knight.

“We do not have new Knights so often that one cannot learn their names.  You are the only new addition we've had in three years- a long stretch by even our standards.  You are obviously, please excuse the term, 'new blood.'”  He said the last with a smile.  In the blink of an eye he was suddenly crouched directly in front of me, mere inches from where I sat.  His strangely beautiful red eyes were locked on my own, his smile widened.  “Oh my, I had suspected but... Have you seen your eyes yet, my boy?”  It seemed strange that he called me “my boy” when he seemed barely older than I, but at the same time I remembered that he was, in reality, probably nearly four hundred years old.

I tried to hide my surprise at his sudden approach, and shook my head in negative.  I hadn't had the chance to see much of anything during the events of the last few days.  I told him as much.

“Hmm, you should.”  He replied, and in another flash he was back to the other side of the fire, lifting a pack from the ground and tearing through it, tossing things out on the ground as he went.  “Ahha!”  He said, there was yet another flash, and he was back in front of me again, holding out a mirror.  I noticed that I could see a faint trail left by his motion from one side of the fire to another.  He had moved so quickly I hadn't seen him shift but the trail remained as sign that he had indeed done more than simply disappear in one place and reappear in another.  “I keep it for shaving...”  He paused for a moment, thoughtfully rubbing his beard, then added, “Not that I ever shave.  ...face gets cold.”  I took the mirror from him and held it up in front of my eyes, noticing the peculiar way my own motion left a trail.  I looked for the first time at my new face.  My features had changed entirely, though I could still see myself at the base of my appearance, as though all the new additions were simply improvements of the old.  Where I'd been weak, the peculiar magic had made me stronger.  The line of my jaw was firm, and the cut of my cheek was graceful yet powerful.  I was far more attractive than I had ever been before, but the four scars from Wisp's attack still ran the course of my face, from my forehead to my chin, forever marring an otherwise amazing face.  All of this, though, I noticed only peripherally, and cared little for either way.

What held my attention, what riveted my gaze to the mirror were my eyes.  My eyes, Kye's gift to me, were a purple so close to the shade they had been in their original body, that for a moment I thought I was looking through the veil of death.  I dropped the mirror, noticing subconsciously the way it trailed down to the ground.  “They're still her eyes...”  I gasped in a whisper.

Weaver's ears perked forward, catching the words, and for just a fraction of a second a look of profound, debilitating pain crossed his face and then his smile was back.  “You and I, it seems, have some things in common.”

It took me a few moments to gather myself enough to speak again but once I had, a multitude of questions surfaced in my mind.  “Why do we have color in our eyes while the others have black eyes?”  I asked the most obvious question my mind could latch onto.

Weaver sat down in front of me.  “That is a difficult question, my friend.  Of the lot of us, only Ethaniel, you, and I have eyes that are not pure black.  I have often speculated on the reason for that, but I feel certain that it is tied to the bonding experience that takes place before...”  He looked away, and I could see a hard line of anger on his features.  “Before we become Knights.”  He finished in a quiet tone.  I waited for him to say more, but he had gone silent and I could tell that he would not be forthcoming on this subject any longer.  The question had been difficult for me as well so I did not mind letting it go at that, for the time being.

“What of my body?  I didn't grow the clawed arms or the wolfish feet the way so many of you have.  Does that mean I'm not as powerful, or is that something that will happen later?”  I asked, and it was a question that had been bothering me for some time.  At the heart of the question, was my desire to know why all the Knights of Ethan were different if the process of their creation was the same.

“Haha,” Weaver laughed heartily.  “I forgot that they don't tell trainees absolutely anything about the nature of the Knights.  Suffice to say, for now, since I don't feel like getting into the matter too deeply, that those aspects will indeed come later.  As for the power of the individual, that is a difficult attribute to measure.  The eyes are telling... how long it takes to heal, how well a Knight,” I noticed a strange inflection in his voice when he said the word 'knight.' “...can each master their skill.  In your case, your Bound One,” he paused after the term, watching me, and I knew that he saw the wince that I couldn't avoid as he used the term.  The term “Bound One” had become something offensive in my mind and I hated to think of Kyeia that way.  I wasn't sure what Weaver expected from me, or if he was disappointed or satisfied with my reaction, but he went on anyway.  “She told the king before she even found you that you were going to be something special; a knight of a different caliber of strength.  This hadn't happened before. The interest in you was quite high.”

Kyeia had always thought I was special, and I still wondered whether she had possessed some great insight into my future, or was simply projecting her feelings for me into her expectations.  In the end, it didn't matter.  I hoped she had been proud of me in her life and, for my part, I would continue to grow to the best of my abilities and stand for what I believed right.  I didn't yet know what was right, or how to be the best, but I don't think anyone ever really knows how to get to the top of the mountain when they're standing at the bottom.  One has to find the way while on the path.  I realized that I had been silent for too long, creating an awkward emptiness, so I nodded my head and said, “I'm going to be the best.”

Weaver smiled, and I sensed that there was something hidden behind his smile, something that shouldn't have been there at all.  It came like the shadow of a bird across the sun, just a split second and it was gone and Weaver's smile was as open and honest as ever.  “I don't doubt that, Lowin. I can sense the potential in you already, but you'll need to train your new abilities.  They don't just work on their own and if you don't learn to use them properly you'll never be the best at anything.”

Like the look of sadness I'd seen on his face earlier, the hidden aspect of him I'd seen beneath his smile nagged at me.  I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind for the time.  This red-eyed Knight, I thought, was one I would need to watch carefully.  “Will you be training me?” I asked him.

He nodded.  “I intend to.  The trip south will take us through some hostile territory and it won't do to have you unprepared to defend yourself.”  His eyes opened wide as if something had just occurred to him and in a flash he vanished from where he was sitting in front of me and appeared at the opposite side of the fire, rifling through his pack again.  After a moment he seemed to find what he was looking for.  He took it under his arm and picked up a sword that had been lying on the ground near his pack.  There was a flash of motion and he was back in front of me again, holding out a cloak like the one he was wearing and a scabbard containing a Knight of Ethan's sword, a fine blade with a silver crosspiece and handle wrapped in the finest black leather.  The weapon had a belt and scabbard as well, both of the same fine black leather as the handle, though the scabbard was of a firmer finish.

“The cloak is my spare,” the red-eyed warrior explained. “The sword I found on the field of battle at Fell Rock and thought you might want it when you were able to walk on your own.” I took the items from him, noting again how the cloak was different than those I'd seen on the Knights at Fell Rock.  He must have noticed my attention to the fabric.  “They're new.  Including the one you're holding right now, there are only ten of them.  There will be more though, the design is good, the process perfected.”

I noticed, as I went to put on my new cloak, that I was wearing an outfit of black and gray, a fine dark gray shirt that laced at the front, and well-fitted black pants.  I hadn't had the chance to see the outfit I'd put on the night of the attack at Fell Rock, but I found it to my liking now that I could.  The shirt reminded of the one Malice had worn when I had visited her in her room and she had worn nothing else.  That memory made me smile despite myself, but the smile faltered as remembering Malice also made me remember that I didn't know if she was alright.  I wanted to believe that she was safe, that her combat skills had seen her to safety, but the worry still nagged at me.  I resumed dressing myself, a somber feeling sitting heavily upon me.

Donning the cloak was not an easy process. The nature of the fabric made it quite difficult to determine how it should be oriented.  I did, eventually, figure it out and was surprised to find that the temperature inside the cloak seemed warmer than I had expected.  The early fall air was chill but the cloak felt as though it had been warmed by my body already, despite having been just pulled from Weaver's pack.

Weaver again anticipated my question before I needed to ask it.  “The inside of the cloak is always that temperature.  It's part of the magic of the fabric.  The one wearing it will never be too hot, or too cold.  That is a surprisingly important feature for those who have to wear the same cloak day after day, come winter snow or summer heat.  The fabric is also resistant to staining or tearing but will do either if put through extreme distress.”

“Thank you, Weaver.  I will wear it in good faith.”  I said, and indeed I was happy to have the cloak.  From inside it, I felt much more secure.  I fastened the sword at my waist, checking to see that the blade moved easily in the scabbard.  It did, and I was happy for that.  The blade also aided my feeling of security.  Though I knew that I was far from a skilled swordsman, there was something reassuring about having the length of metal strapped at my side.  Having a good weapon could make a coward feel like a hero and a hero feel like a god.  I felt I belonged more in the former group than the latter, but it was an improvement either way.

“You'll still need a chain-mail vest to protect your chest.  Your heart is important.  If it stops beating, you'll die.  Ha, yes, I know that seems an obvious sentiment, but not much else will kill you now.  Just remember, if you're in a fight, protect your heart and try to keep yourself from taking any serious damage.  The more serious the injury, the longer it will take for your body to heal it, and it can be hard to fight if you're mangled beyond recognition," As Weaver instructed me, he walked to the fire and pulled a wood skewer with an unidentifiable meat from where it was sticking up out of the ground at the flame's side.  He walked back to me and handed me the hot stick.  “Eat, you'll need the energy for traveling.  When you're done, we should get moving.  I could only get us so far from Fell Rock while carrying you.  We should put some more distance between us and whatever forces may still be there, as soon as possible.”

Following Weaver down the road dressed in my flowing cloak, carrying a sword at my hip, my strange new eyes highlighting the world in pristine detail, I found myself truly feeling like a Knight of Ethan for the first time since my training had begun all those months before.  Inside I was still the same, frightened young man that I had always been, but now I was cast into the role of an imposing warrior, strong and mysterious beneath my shifting cloak.  It was easy to act the part but I wondered how others would perceive me.  Would they know that I was only sixteen, almost seventeen, years old and still inexperienced in the ways of combat or would they only see a “Black-Eyed Devil,” some monster from stories they had never quite believed were real?  I didn't know, indeed, couldn't know.  A part of me didn't want to find out.  If they saw me for the young and inexperienced man I was, it would shake my confidence in the man I was trying to become.  If they saw me as a monster, they might be right, and that was a truth I feared deeply.  Was I still human?

“Where are we headed?”  I asked Weaver, looking for some topic to break the monotony of the road and stop the repeating, hopeless circles of thought I'd been caught in for several hours.

“South.”  Weaver stated.

“Where 'south'?”  I pressed, not content with such a vague answer.  It was easy to say 'south,' but there was quite a lot of 'south' we could be traveling to.  For a moment I wasn't certain he would answer, but, after a short pause, he spoke again.

“Our final destination is an island in the Rip Tooth chain, Howling Wind.  We'll meet up with our forces and from there we can decide our next move.”  His voice was tight, authoritative, not the same friendly tone he had used around the fire.  I was quite shocked at his answer, not the tone, but the subject itself.  I had not realized we would be traveling so far south.  The Rip Tooth islands were at least another two or three weeks of travel away by foot, if we kept to the major roads.  If we could find transport we might make it in a single week or less, but that was still a considerable distance to travel.

“Will we be obtaining transport?”  I asked the stalwart cloaked figure, not eager to walk for three weeks.

“No, hiring transportation is too easy to track, especially for us.  In a battle, or out in the countryside we can use our cloaks to vanish, but towns, cities, and villages will see us and remember our passing.  We will leave as little trail as possible.”  Again, there was a note of command in the way he spoke.  It was, I guessed, probably attributable to his many years in the Knights of Ethan.  Being second only to Ethaniel himself must have put Weaver in positions of command on many occasions.  I didn't reply again, but after a time Weaver turned his eyes to me and I thought I could see a smile about his features, though it was hard to tell for certain as he had the face mask portion of his cloak pulled up, leaving only his eyes clearly visible.  “We should probably begin your training.”

I nodded my agreement, happy to have something to do.  The tedium of travel is matched in torment only by the foot pain.

He walked as he continued talking.  “Let us begin with something easy, yet vitally important.  In fact, this will be the most important thing you'll learn how to do and, conversely, the easiest.  You will use it much more effectively later, but for now you need to learn its function and how to call upon it in times of distress.”  He bent down and picked up a rock from the road.  Weaver tested its heft in his hand for a moment before pulling back his arm and flinging the stone forward at an almost straight course out from us.  Such was the velocity of his throw that I could barely detect an arc in the object's trajectory, even with my improved vision.  “Now, if you were watching that closely, you should have seen a strange streaking behind the rock when I threw it, like a light that followed the path of the stone.  Did you see it?”  He looked at me again.

“Yes, I saw it.”  I told him, not sure if I should tell him that the streak following the stone had been quite distinct.  In fact, it had been almost blatant, as were all things that moved, especially those that moved in contrary force to the world around them.  For instance, a leaf blowing in the wind only left a faint trail, but a bird, struggling against the pull of the ground and grip of the winds, left a much more resonant trail.  I had spent a good deal of time studying the effect.

“Good, some of us new to the eyes have difficulty seeing that at first.  Seeing it is half the challenge.”  He stopped in his tracks and after another step I did as well, curious to see what would happen next.  “What you're seeing, in those streaks, is your new vision's ability to track changes in the world at a much faster rate then you're used to.  What you need to do to take full advantage of that, is to force the rest of your body and your mind to match that pace.”

I must have given him a surprisingly stupid look because he drew back the mask covering the lower half of his face to reveal a smile.   “It's easy.  Trainees always find it surprising just how easy it is once they get the trick.  All you need to do is will yourself to be faster.  When they taught you to fight and taught you the forms for combat, didn't they also teach you to envision a second enemy standing behind the first and attempt to follow your strike through to that enemy?”

“Yes...”  I said, uncertainly.  Malice had, I recalled, taught me something similar to that.  It was a trick that aided one in learning to punch through a target instead of stopping at the target.  Such a strike was more effective than a standard punch.  I had adapted to it readily, and developed a strong blow that I had not once managed to land solidly on an opponent.

“This is the same thing.”  Weaver explained, grinning widely.  “Picture it, believe it, and your body will do the rest.”

“Alright.”  I said, still not sure what to make of Weaver's explanation of what was supposed to happen.  The red-eyed warrior bent down and picked up another rock.

“I'm going to throw this straight up.  When I do, I want you to force yourself to speed up.  I want you to picture yourself moving so fast that you can fly right past this rock.  Are you ready?”

I nodded that I was, and he drew back his arm to throw.  I felt my muscles tensing in expectation, as though I were about to leap into the air myself.  I felt my heart quickening, and I pictured myself streaking like a bolt of lightning through the sky on the path the rock would take.  The world lurched around me.  The air seemed to turn thick, tugging at my flesh as I attempted to move.  I turned my head and saw the rock just beginning to leave Weaver's hand.  It seemed to tumble slowly up into the sky, as though it were being drawn upward by some invisible string.  I reached out for it, moving my hand as quickly as I could, but even forcing all my will into the movement, my hand still only crept slowly skyward.  It took me what felt like seconds just to raise it to shoulder level.  I decided to put the arm back down, and found that changing my arm's trajectory took even more effort.  I saw Weaver move then, and he seemed to be walking at normal speed, casually meandering towards me as though all the air of the world hadn't just turned to sap.  His hair, his cloak, and the fur on his arms shifted slowly, as if being pushed by a strong, yet slow, breeze, but he ignored it, walking all the way around me twice before I was able to return my arm to my side.  As quickly as it had begun, the world resumed its normal course and I collapsed to my knees, a sense of weariness washing over me with such force that I felt light headed.

Weaver appeared in front of me.  “Not bad.  You got it on your first try.”  He laughed loudly.  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, using that trick will eat away at your energy.  You can't put on so much speed without burning into your body's reserves.  It's a trick that gets easier the more you do it, but the first few times you speed yourself up, it's going run you down fast.  Every time you quicken yourself using the eyes, and this is true even for me after all these years, it's like running as hard as you can the entire time you're doing it.  You see the potential, though, right?”

I was still breathing heavily, but indeed I could see the potential.  A warrior who could push himself to such speeds would be able to avoid almost any attack.    “Yes, I do.”  The words came out between gasps.  “Why do I move so slowly?”  I questioned the more experienced warrior, hoping that he would tell me it was something that would improve with practice.  Though the trick was still useful, my inability to move as quickly as Weaver had made it less impressive.

Weaver pulled back the cloak covering one of his clawed limbs and held it up for me to inspect.  “You're not equipped for faster movement yet.  Improved though you are, your body was never meant to operate at the speeds that you are capable of achieving.  Your muscles can't push you any faster, and your tendons can't withstand the strain that would be applied if you could.  If you tried to go as fast as I can, and you succeeded, your body would fly apart at the seams.

I blanched, envisioning my arms and legs tearing themselves free of my torso.  It was not a pretty thought.  Weaver helped me to my feet and we resumed walking again.  I was troubled by the realization that my arms and legs would eventually become like Weaver's and the other Knights'.  The loss of my human limbs would be yet another step away from my perceived humanity and I was ever mindful of the fact that power could have a terrible cost.  Kyeia's life had served as a most poignant reminder of that.  I noticed several sources of smoke on the not so distant horizon, the signs of a town, probably a small settlement if the number of smoke sources was anything to judge by.  I realized we would need supplies if we were to be on the road a long time, but I wasn't sure how to breach the subject with Weaver.  He seemed set against making any public appearances.  I finally decided the best course of action was simply to speak my mind and see what happened.

“We'll need to acquire provisions if we're to travel far on foot - dried meat, some skins for water.”  I tried to make my voice as casual as possible, not eager to see my traveling companion's cold, commanding side again.

To my surprise Weaver merely nodded his agreement.  “I had thought of that, though it goes against my better judgment.  Human settlements are...” he seemed to think for a moment before coming up with the word he wanted, “troublesome.”  There was a look of disgust on his face that seemed to ill fit the man who had been grinning so widely just a few moments before.  I found myself feeling uneasy at Weaver's comment on the human settlement.  A seed of doubt was forming in my mind, and it was difficult to squelch.  It grew all the stronger for the fact that I knew not what I was in doubt of, only that my travel companion seemed possessed of two distinctly different personalities, one edged in darkness.

We spent the remainder of our walk in relative silence, simply passing the miles in quiet thought, not a mode of travel I preferred since my thoughts were mostly troubled.  I was quite happy to finally see the first houses of the town we'd been approaching coming into view around a bend in the road.  I had guessed correctly that the town wasn't large.  It consisted of maybe four or five dozen homes, what appeared to be a central store, and blacksmith shop from which the sounds of a hammer bearing down on an anvil could be heard.  The hammer striking metal ringing out through the streets reminded me of my own home.  Most towns and cities had a smith, and the sound of ringing metal was as natural a sound as any for a person who'd grown up in such a place.  Fell Rock hadn't had its own smith.  All of their metal work was brought in from outside sources.  Possibly, I thought, some of them even came from the town we now approached, though I thought there was probably a settlement nearer the Post - the former Post I reminded myself, for Fell Rock stood no longer - to the north.

As we drew nearer, I could see and hear the sound of children playing in the streets and the fields about the town.  A sign at the outskirts of the town read, “Paix Farth, Huntsmen's Town.”  Our presence drew some attention from the children, some of whom ran into their homes, while others openly stared at us as we approached.  Adults came to their windows, summoned by their children, and others stepped out of their homes, holding pitchforks or other makeshift weapons.  I could hear the whispers of the suddenly attentive townspeople.

“They've come to take us away, and they'll never let us come back home.”  One child whispered to another, hiding behind the leg of a large man holding a hoe.

“Mommy says they're demons.”  Another child said.

“You're not wanted here, monsters.”  A human man yelled openly as we passed him and his family.

“What are they doing here?”  One woman asked her husband.

“I don't know, but their lot should be exterminated.  Beasts, they are,” he answered tersely.

From beside me I could hear a low rumble rising from Weaver, and I looked over at my travel companion to see his eyes radiating rage. The streaks of white lightning along their surface seemed to churn in an unusual chaos.  I began to wonder if we shouldn't have found our own provisions along the road, avoiding civilization all together.  The words of the people stung me as well, striking at the very core of my own concerns over my humanity.  I tried not to let it bother me, but the strong negativity projected at us as we passed both angered and saddened me.  Any happiness I'd had at seeing the town was gone.  We made our way to the store, Weaver not allowing our pace to grow any faster, despite the intensifying unrest about us.  We were nearly to the store when the shopkeeper, who had been standing outside of his business holding a cudgel, stepped inside for a moment and came back out with a sign that read “closed.”  He hung it from a nail in the door before going back inside and shutting the door firmly behind him.  My heart fell, but Weaver didn't change his pace.  He walked directly to the door and knocked loudly.  When there was no answer, he knocked again, more forcefully.

“Do demons not read?  Go away! We're closed to your ilk!”  A voice shouted from within.

There was a flash of motion, too quick for me to catch, though I could see the path Weaver's arm cut through the air.  The closed sign fell to the ground in four pieces.

“I see no sign.  Open this door, shop keeper, and we will be gone soon enough.”  Weaver's voice held a timbre I had not heard in it before, and though I found it did not affect me at all anymore, I could identify it as “the voice.”  What was remarkable was that I had never heard the slightest hint of it before from the red-eyed warrior.  I knew that it was possible to control the effect of “the voice” among the more powerful of the Knights of Ethan, Ethaniel himself had done so to an extent, but Weaver had completely hidden it.  I wondered just how powerful my companion was.  From within the building came the sound of a heavy bolt being dropped into place.

“OPEN THIS DOOR!”  The voice of Weaver tore through the air.  Again the Knight's voice held no sway over me, but I could feel the intensity of it, rippling through the air like the force of an explosion.  The wood door shook in its frame and Weaver slammed his fist into it with such force that the entire wall of the building shook.  The door, however, stood firm.  There were screams in the streets and people ran into their homes, slamming doors behind them.  Suddenly the roads were quiet, and it was just Weaver and me standing on an empty street in front of the store.

“Maybe we should leave...”  I began to say, but Weaver's eyes turned on me and there was a fearsome burning there.  I stepped back and held my hands out wide, letting Weaver know I would not interfere in his actions again.  He had been a Knight for nearly four hundred years and I would allow him to do what he thought was necessary.

“Go away monster, we'll not...”  The voice from inside the house didn't get any further than that because Weaver's monstrous voice tore from his throat in an outpouring of inarticulate fury.  Two massive wings slipped from concealed slots in his cloak and beat the air heavily.  I was forced to step back, or risk getting knocked off my feet by the leathery, black appendages.  Weaver's powerful claws shot out and this time I managed to shift my perception of time fast enough that I could see them move, but even then those clawed hands were viciously fast.  They pierced the door smoothly, and the terrifying red-eyed monster tightened his grip on the wood to the point that it began to splinter in his vice-like hands.  There was a sundering, breaking sound and Weaver leaped into the air, pounding his wings and lifting the door and the portion of the wall that held the bar-lock with him into the sky.  He gave another great scream of rage and tossed the door with tremendous force at the shop beneath him.  I was forced to jump behind a wagon on the side of the street or be hit debris flying from the explosion of the building with the impact of the door.  The roof of the shop caved in, along with a portion of the front wall.  Weaver sailed to the ground, some fearsome beast of legend descending from the sky, and stepped through the rubble.  I was terrified of the ferocity of the Knight I'd been traveling with.  I was reminded of Wisp's unbridled rage, and wondered if the anger was a result of becoming more powerful amidst the Knights of Ethan.

“What terrible power.”  I said the words aloud, though I hadn't meant to. Hearing them, I clamped my mouth shut, not wanting Weaver to hear me.  I started to stand up from my place, behind the wagon where I'd taken cover, but I stopped when I heard screams coming from inside the building.  There was a man and a woman, shrill voices raised in horror.  The noise went abruptly quiet, and a moment later Weaver stepped from the building, two full bags of supplies clenched in one fist.  He tucked his wings back into the holes on the back of his cloak and they vanished as though they'd never been.

“Come, Lowin.  It's time to take our leave of this hole.”  His voice was all command, rage just beneath the surface.  I didn't dare disobey him, but the screams of the shop owner and his wife still hung in my mind, haunting me.  We walked from the town without further molestation.  It was a full hour later before I finally worked up the nerve to ask the question gnawing at my insides.

“Why did you kill them?”  The words were hard to force out.

“Kill who?  That ignorant shop keeper and his fat wife?”  He looked at me for a moment, drew back the mask across his face and smiled widely.  He burst into laughter.  “I didn't kill them, Lowin.  I merely put a little fear into them.  Of course I wouldn't kill innocent people.  Is that something that a Knight of Ethan would do?”

I smiled, still uneasy.  The screams I'd heard inside the store, and the sudden way they stopped, still stuck in my mind.  Had he really let the shop keeper and his wife live?  It was impossible to know, but the ferocity Weaver had shown in Paix Farth was something I wouldn't soon forget.

We walked through most of the night and on into the next day, only stopping for a few hours to sleep.  I didn't sleep at all.  Too many troubled thoughts rested heavily upon my shoulders.  I was tired as the sun rose once more over the horizon, but not so tired that I feared I wouldn't be able to function.  My new body seemed to be beyond complete exhaustion, always having that reserve of energy I needed in order to go further.  An hour past dawn, Weaver led us from the beaten path onto a small trail, still heading almost straight south.  He seemed to have an unerring sense of direction.  I wondered if it was another trait he had developed after becoming a full Knight of Ethan, or if he had always been good with navigation.  I didn't ask him.  Since the events in Paix Farth the day before, I had talked to him very little, choosing to keep to my own thoughts and company, unpleasant though they were.

“Do you enjoy your service to the king?”  Weaver's voice broke the silence, calm and even, but startling after the length of time we'd traveled without so much as a word.  I looked to my travel companion.  He was looking back at me, his mask down and his face set in a neutral expression.  It was a poignant question, and not one that I was sure how to answer.

The truth of the matter was I did not want to serve my king at all.  I didn't believe in the enigmatic man who demanded the lives of the innocent in order to strengthen his army.  I had no intention of telling Weaver such a thing though.  I had seen the man's wrath enough, and had no desire to risk striking it aflame once more.  “I have done little to serve my king yet.  That is difficult to answer.”  I replied cryptically, hoping it would suffice.

“Surely you have some opinion of the great man whose orders you will be following for the foreseeable future?  I'm not asking a difficult question, Lowin.  What is your king to you?”  The warrior pressed, and I knew by the tone in his voice and the look in his eyes that he had no intention of letting this pass.

I grit my teeth, wanting to blurt out that my king was a murderer.  He was a man who traded innocent lives for power without blanching.  I wasn't sure what Weaver was driving at, what he expected from me, and I didn't much care for the line of questioning.  “The king is a man of power.  He sits high atop his throne and governs the mass, not seeing the individuals over which he sits as judge, deciding what constitutes the greater good of the whole.”

Weaver nodded.  “Indeed, he is a powerful man with a strong idea of what is important for the greater good.  He must only see the whole.  That is a good answer, for one so young.”  The red-eyed Knight paused for a moment before going on.  “Do you know what it takes to have a strong idea, Lowin?”

I looked at the shifting outline of my companion quizzically.  I wasn't sure what a “strong idea” implied, and I certainly wasn't sure how to answer Weaver's question.  “No, I don't.”  I said, and it was true as far as I knew.

“Imagination, nothing more.  Anyone can have a strong idea, my boy, and it can be a harmless thing.  The difference with the king is that he is very powerful man, and when a powerful man has a strong idea, it becomes a new creature entirely.  Lives are lost, nations rise and fall, and cultures are born and die all on the waves of a strong idea, led by a powerful individual.  The king - and I can't say I honestly know the name of our current king as there is a new one every twenty or forty years, and I've lost track - but he, in whatever new guise he comes, has always had the same, singular goal.  The king wishes to align all of the peoples of our world under one crown, and reign in an era of peace and prosperity.  That is a noble endeavor, no?”  Most would have phrased that last sentence in such a way that the question would not have been searching for an answer, but I could tell by Weaver's phrasing that he expected me to reply.  I thought before opening my mouth to give an answer.

A prosperous, unified world was a noble idea, but was it a noble endeavor?  Trade would become strong, and the peoples of the world would never want for anything for they would be backed by a strong system that would see to their needs, but what of the peoples who didn't wish to be forced under the thumb of the human government?  They would fight.  That would leave the king with only one choice, to suppress those who rallied against him. And what if he met another king with a similar ideal, only that the other king wished to bring the people of the world under his own government?  They would clash, and the world would erupt into a massive war.  The people would suffer, trade would falter, and death would be the course of the day.  It would happen, too.  No king would willingly submit to another, and certainly the world was a large enough place that there were more kings than just mine.  Rulers would never share power.  It was not in their nature.

In times of war, the king would need stronger, more effective weapons and greater power.  He would acquire those weapons, and that power, the way he'd always done, I knew, taking it despite the cost to the people he was allegedly trying to help.  More innocents would die, more families would be destroyed, more men would be turned into monsters of war, and in the end it would be only the king who truly prospered.  He would grind his people against the stone of war, hone them into what he needed for his purpose, and leave those that fell away to rot in their graves without remorse.  All of this he would do for a noble idea.  Even the noblest dream is folly, if in its pursuit the one who chases the dream loses himself.

“It is... a noble dream.”  I answered, choosing my words cautiously.  A world of peace and prosperity was always a pretty concept, but no king could force it upon the world.  The great dream of men would always remain just a dream.

Weaver smiled and nodded vigorously.  I don't know if he read all the way into my answer, or was merely happy that I had seemed to agree with a conclusion he'd made- that the king was set upon a noble endeavor, but Weaver found something he favored in my words.

“It is the most noble of dreams, Lowin,” the bloody-eyed Knight said with a laugh.  “I think it is time we continued your training.  I'll need to determine your combat skills before we begin.”  With those words, the subject of conversation was completely changed.  We did not speak of such things again for several weeks, instead dedicating our time to a brutal training regimen that occupied every moment not spent walking or sleeping.  Weaver avoided human settlements as we went, and for that I was thankful.  Alone in the woods, he seemed a different person than the one I'd seen destroy the shop in Paix Farth.  In time I even began to believe that he hadn't killed the shopkeeper and his wife; he was quick to smile, and quicker to laugh out in joy.  Besides, at that point he was all I had to call 'companion.'  It is easy to deceive oneself, when one really desires to.

A tall, stone walled, fortress loomed in the distance, an imposing structure obviously designed with prolonged siege defense in mind.  I had noticed that we were traveling closer and closer to it as the day passed, but Weaver made no mention of his intentions.  Two weeks of travel with the sometimes stoic, sometimes jovial, and always imposing warrior had done little to enlighten me to his true nature.  He trained me hard, encouraging me to take full advantage of the new abilities granted to me by Kyeia's sacrifice.  I was quick to hone my ability to sharpen the focus of time and I found that I could call it up at will.  The speed of my limbs was still my greatest handicap, but I had learned how to overcome the limitations to an extent, even to the point that I could push myself to the very limits of my body's endurance.  The first few times I attempted to do so, I caused muscles to tear and bones to break, but they healed in a matter of hours and I was ready to try again. I felt that it was important to know at what point my body would fail me.  The best way to find that limit was to surpass it, recover, and try again until I mastered the appropriate time to stop without surpassing my body's ability.  As I worked, some of the overwhelming exhaustion caused by the time slowing effect began to slip away.  All my improvements were achieved in only two weeks on the road with Weaver, but as we grew closer to the mysterious fortress I became more agitated.

“Are we going there?”  I finally decided to ask, pointing to the ever nearing structure.

“Yes, I have an appointment with the Lord of the keep.”  Weaver answered flatly, his voice calm and even, as it always was when he was discussing something he didn't necessarily feel like talking about.  “The fortress is Renwalk, it is the last human stronghold in the south, and is responsible for scouting and maintaining the final line of defense from what lies beyond the human borders.”  He explained, gesturing with his hand to indicate the wide expanse of forested land that lay beyond.  The dark green of the thick forest was broken in places by the white of early snow, something we'd been seeing more and more of as we traveled deeper into the frigid south.  Traveling north from Fell Rock would have seen us moving into warmer climates, but we were growing closer and closer to the lands of snow and ice with every day of travel.  Eventually, if we continued our march to the sea, we would reach the coastal region where the snow never completely melted.

“Ah, king's business.”  I said to myself, partially reassured that this endeavor into civilized land might go better than the last.

“Yes, business.”  Weaver mumbled the words.

“Will we be staying long?”  I was still eager to reach our destination.  The two weeks of travel had given me a lot of time to think, and I was still worried about the others from Fell Rock.  Merrywin and I had never gotten too close, but she had taken care of me when I was at my worst.  I hoped that she was well.  Any news of Silent would be welcome.  I feared the worst for him, but still kept a flicker of hope alive in my heart.  Malice, though, occupied my thoughts the most.  The tough, often angry woman who had trained me and comforted me during the hardest times of my life was my dearest living friend.  I had never told her so, and I didn't know what she thought of me, but I felt a bond with her stronger then that I'd established with anyone else other than Kye.

“Only long enough to speak with Lord Twist.  I need to make a report on the events at Fell Rock, and discover the position of any of our forces that might have checked in at Renwalk,” came Weaver's reply.

“Might there be other Knights of Ethan at Renwalk?”  I asked, my attention suddenly piqued.

“I doubt it, but we will know for sure once I speak with Twist, and get the reports from his scouts.”  The red-eyed warrior answered, not indicating whether he would be either pleased or displeased with finding more of his fellows had escaped Fell Rock.  At times he could be very dispassionate.

My hopes sank with his assessment.  I had held some hope that we might hear word of other Knights of Ethan in the vicinity.  To be more precise, I had hoped to hear of Malice or the others.  I wondered, though I didn't voice my thoughts, what made Weaver so certain that others wouldn't have passed the same way as us.  If all the Knights had gone south to meet up after the battle at Fell Rock, did it not stand to reason that others might have stopped to make a report at Renwalk since it was along their way?  Suspicion took hold of me again, and I found myself wondering at the true motives behind Weaver's actions.  I thought back to the events of my last night at Fell Rock, something I'd been doing more and more as we traveled further to our rendezvous point.

There had been two strange men that night, obviously looking for me, one of whom I'd heard speak, the other of whom had been too quiet for me to hear.  I had seen neither of them, at least not clearly, but I remembered only too well the sharp pain I'd felt just before blacking out, with the massive Lantern Eye blotting out the sky above me.  If Weaver had truly saved me from the Lantern Eye, then certainly he must have either seen those two men, or been one of them.  I knew that he was not the one who had spoken, because I would have recognized his voice, but could he be the other?  If he was, what had happened to the man who had spoken, and why had they both been searching specifically for me, in the heat of a fearsome battle?  If he was neither of those men, then he was a third person who had not seen those two at all, or had, for some reason, chosen not to mention those two in his retelling of the night's events.  There was the possibility that the Lantern Eye had killed the two men I'd heard outside the building that night, but if it had killed the man standing directly over me, was it not reasonable to assume that it would have also killed me before help could come?  I didn't have answers to any of the speculation that filled my mind, but I suspected that Weaver did.  His psychotic dual nature, however, kept me from asking any questions that might anger him.  The truth I so desperately wanted was beyond my ability to acquire.

Many times I had considered abandoning Weaver, making my way south on my own, but I realized that with his superior speed, and ability to fly, I would not get far before he tracked me down.  Once he did track me down, I would be in a dangerous position.  He would want to know why I'd left, and that was not something that I could explain without casting him in a dark light indeed.  As long as I kept traveling with him, Weaver seemed only too friendly, and eager to teach me all that he could.  In fact, he had been nothing but gracious and a good general companion to me in all our time alone on the road.  He did most of the hunting and gathering of supplies, and he also told many an interesting tale to liven up the tedium of the hours of walking.  He never did talk about himself, but was that really a good reason to be suspicious of someone?  I didn't know.  I desperately wanted to be able to trust the red-eyed warrior, if only because he was the only living person around who understood what it was like to be what I was.  Still, every time I grew comfortable around Weaver, the screams of the shopkeeper and his wife would ring through my head, reminding me of what lay hidden beneath the pleasant visage of the smiling Knight.  I constantly wished that I had checked the shop to see if the keeper and his woman were still alive.  Had I seen them living with my own eyes, I would not have had such a hard time believing Weaver when he said that he had not killed them.

Renwalk fortress loomed high above us now, its massive towers clawing at the sky seemed almost black, stained by soot as they were.  I looked at Weaver as we drew closer to this place of human habitation, and wondered, with a mix of fear and anticipation, what new aspect of his nature I might soon uncover.

The moat surrounding Renwalk was far enough across that a score of men, laying foot to head, wouldn't stretch from one bank to the other.  The banks down to the murky water were steep and treacherous.  I guessed that the bottom was probably lined with sharp metal spikes or caltrops, making anyone foolish enough to try and cross the water without the aid of the draw-bridge likely to have their feet torn to pieces.  The bridge was up as we approached, but once we were within audible range of the castle Weaver took down his hood and called up to the guards along the wall, who had not seen our approach, shrouded in our cloaks as we were.

“Open the gate!”  Weaver bellowed, lacking anger, but with a tinge of “the voice” making his tone carry far and resonate through the evening air.  Those at the top of the bridge, seeing who was making the demand, immediately called down to the draw-bridge crew to lower the massive wooden bridge.  As the bridge was lowered, I could also see a heavy, black iron portcullis being raised.  Beyond the lowering wooden ramp and the iron portcullis, the courtyard was chaotic with activity.  There were lines of men at arms, at least a hundred, though quite possibly more, involved in some type of training exercise.  They were organized into lines, repeating the same moves over and over again, drilling with long halberds.  My training, and my peculiar new vision, allowed me to see every flaw in their motions down to the smallest waver of their balance.  I realized that without Kye's sacrifice, I would have looked far worse than any of them.  As we waited for the drawbridge to finish its descent, I saw a runner being dispatched to the castle proper, probably notifying whoever resided there of our arrival.  Once the bridge was down and the portcullis up, Weaver began to lead the way across the great wooden walkway and into Renwalk Fortress.  I noticed none of the tension I had seen in him when we entered Paix Farth, and I felt a wave of relief.  I hoped for no repeat of the events there.  As we passed through the gates, every guard or soldier we passed snapped to sharp attention.  Weaver didn't acknowledge them, and I did my best to also pretend not to notice them, but my eyes still wandered over the sight.  I had seen human military men before, but never so many in one place.  I subconsciously drew my hood tighter about me, and pulled the mask on my cloak up to cover the bottom half of my face.  Weaver might have been comfortable amidst the guards and soldiers of Renwalk, but their eyes upon me made my skin crawl.  I was, I realized, witnessing the first “benefits” of a Knight's rank.  The Knights of Ethan were second only to the king himself.

We walked straight through the expansive courtyard, past the lines of soldiers being trained for battle, and to the gates of the castle proper.  These second gates were already open, and Weaver lead the way inside, without pausing, to where we were met by a man dressed in an extravagant red silk coat.  He had neatly cut shoulder length brown hair, almost feminine in style, which framed a fat face with an upturned nose.  His face was far from the only portion of his body that was fat, I realized, as I saw how his short legs seemed barely able to keep up his massive stomach.  He wore several rings of gold on each hand, and several extravagant necklaces were draped about his neck.  I disliked him immediately for he gave off an air of pompous self-righteousness that couldn't be ignored.  I wondered if he was the “Lord Twist” we had come to see, but I didn't stay curious long.

“Lord Twist will see you immediately, Master Lucid...”  The smug man began in a smooth, deep voice that seemed ill fitted to his frame.

My companion cut him off in mid-sentence, a flash of fire in his eyes.  “Whilst I'm here, you will refer to me as Weaver, or not at all.  As you can see, I have a guest with me today, and we don't need to have him confused by superfluous titles, do we, Kensil?”  Weaver's voice was cold but controlled as he addressed the man, and I suddenly realized that I had heard something that wasn't intended for my ears.   I couldn't be certain, but it had sounded like the short fat man, Kensil, had nearly called Weaver “Lucidil,” a name I was quite familiar with.  It was a name that most people of the human colonies were familiar with to some degree.  Lucidil was the name of the man who had first invented the strange shifting fabric that was so hard to come by, and in fact also the man for whom the fabric had been named.  Was Weaver that same man?  I looked at the grim set of his features as he faced the pompous man in the silk jacket.  I again pondered the great mystery that was Weaver.  I knew so little about him, but suspected that there were great things working around him.

“Ah, yes, I'm sorry, Weaver.”  The man, Kensil, stammered over his apology, his face going white.  He was, for all his pomposity, obviously aware, to some extent, of Weaver's potential.  I immediately revised that thought, however, realizing that most people were afraid of the Knights of Ethan to some extent, and Kensil might simply be displaying a natural human fear.  “Then shall I find a place for your companion to wait while you see the Lord Twist?”

I didn't wish to be sent off somewhere to wait while Weaver attended to his business.  I was curious to see what sort of business he was on, that he would be expected at Renwalk, but the red-eyed warrior nodded his ascent to Kensil.  I frowned beneath my mask, but kept it to myself.  The red fabric of his silk jacket swished as the fat, pompous man moved next to me.  “I believe that you can find your own way to Lord Twist's study, Weaver?”  He asked, and when Weaver again nodded his ascent, Kensil turned his attention to me.

“If you would please follow me...”  He let the sentence hang, obviously waiting for me to introduce myself.

“Lowin.”  I said, and some of the frustration I felt at being sent away, instead of being allowed to know the nature of our business, crept into my voice.  That seemed to put the fat gaudily dressed man on edge, though I hadn't meant to do so.

“Alright, Master Lowin, please come this way.”  He turned and began walking down a hallway to the left.  I fell in behind him, only looking over my shoulder once to see that Weaver was already gone, vanished from where he been but a moment before.  I followed Kensil, waiting a few seconds before speaking again.

“Sir Lucidil has been quite tense since the events at Fell Rock.”  I commented to the man walking in front of me.  When he didn't answer after a moment, I added, “He is hoping that some of the others may have come this way.”  I wasn't exactly sure what I was hoping to get out of Kensil, but I felt the man held information that would be of interest to me, and my frustration at being made to bide my time while Weaver went about his business forced my hand.

“Then Lucidil shall be pleased, one of your own has been waiting here for him for a few days now, and I understand he comes with good news.”  Kensil said, a note of good cheer in his voice, but he didn't add anything else.  He had said enough, though.  I had learned two very important pieces of information from the silk jacketed man; Weaver's real name, that he'd had before joining the Knights, was indeed Lucidil, and, perhaps more importantly, at least one of the Knights of Ethan was somewhere within Renwalk Fortress and had good news to deliver.  I was about to try and pump Kensil for more information, but we had reached our destination.  Kensil stopped at a door, opened it, and ushered me inside saying, “I shall send refreshment along shortly.”  He stepped out and shut the door behind him.  I could see the obvious expression of relief on his face as the door closed.  He was more than happy to be done with me.  That did not bother me greatly.  I was quite pleased to be rid of his company as well.  He had been an unpleasant man, though I wasn't sure entirely why he had struck me so.  I shrugged the matter off.

I could hardly contain my excitement at the prospect of good news from the Knights of Ethan.  The only matter that concerned me was finding out who had survived the attack at Fell Rock, but one survivor might well know of others who had survived.  The prospect filled me with anticipation.  The room I was in was apparently some form of guest quarters.  It had a bed, a room off to one side with a nice sized wash basin, and a table that would comfortably sit two.  There were no windows, but the room was well decorated with wall-hangings and other furniture.  It was at least three times as large as my room at Fell Rock.  I made my way to the room with the wash basin and began cleaning myself.  It had been too long since I'd really had the chance to make myself presentable, and I decided I would take advantage of the opportunity.  I tossed my cloak over the back of a chair, shut the door to the small room, and undressed the rest of the way, doing as thorough a job as possible of washing the grime of the road from myself with the soap and water available.  While I was working on the process of removing layers of dirt from my flesh, I thought I heard what sounded like the door to my room opening and closing.  I finished scrubbing the grime from myself and redressed, eager to have at whatever refreshments had been left for me.  I was hungry, and tired of eating rations and unseasoned game.  As I opened the door that led back into my room, my jaw dropped.  The table had a large, covered, silver tray on it, but what really surprised me was the woman standing off to one side of the tray, looking at me as I came back out of the wash room.  She was undressed from the waist up, her more than ample bosom fully exposed, and glistening in the light cast by the room's candles as though her skin was oiled.  She wore a semi-transparent gown about her hips that did little to hide the exquisite feminine features beneath. Her eyes were a deep brown, and her face was framed by a smooth, light brown hair that hung down far enough to offer her the barest hint of modesty across her supple chest.  I noticed that she was so skinny that I could make out her individual ribs.  After staring at me for a time, though I didn't know how long because I'd been doing some staring myself, she dropped to her knees and bowed her head.  I heard the rustle of chain as she bowed, and looked down to see that her left ankle was shackled, and there was a chain running from her ankle to an iron circle partially embedded in stone at the door, where it was fastened with a lock.  She was, in effect, on a leash that allowed her to move about the room, but not much else.

“Master Lowin, I am here for your pleasure.”  She said in a voice that quavered with timidity and fear, her eyes downcast as she spoke.  I didn't honestly know what to make of the situation.  I was no longer entirely naïve in the ways of the world, and I understood that it was common for young women to be sold into body-service to rich nobles in order to pay the debts of their family.  I, however, was not of a mind to take advantage of such a situation.  The girl was terrified of me, and I would not willingly bed someone who was only going to do so because it was expected of them.  Kye had not been the type to get jealous of physical affection.  She had explained to me that among her people, they did not concern themselves with such trivial matters, but what would Kyeia think of me if I were to force an unwilling girl into my bed?  I didn't have to ask the question, because I knew what she would have thought, and I would have felt the same myself.  Sleeping with a slave was rape no matter how you looked at it.  I would not sully her or myself in such a manner.

“Stand up.”  I told the girl, finding that my voice was firm, full of a sense of command that I didn't know I possessed.  She snapped to her feet, her finer attributes swaying in a fetching manner.  I made a point of softening my voice.  “My pleasure today will come from the refreshments you've brought, and not your flesh, you needn't worry.”  She relaxed, but only to the slightest degree.  I walked around the table, grabbing the blanket from the bed as I passed, and draping it around her shoulders.  She flinched as I came near her, and I tried to pretend that it didn't bother me that my presence was now so terrible that common people flinched away.  I pulled out a chair and sat down, removing the lid from the food.  There was some form of roasted meat on the platter, heavily spiced and beautifully aromatic.  There were also a variety of seasonal vegetables, warm bread, and a bowl of some sort of soup.  Multiple empty plates had been supplied, one per course.  Instead I grabbed one of the plates and placed a few scraps of meat and vegetable on it, and ladled some of the soup over it.  There was more food than I could eat by myself, but not really enough for two people.

“Have a seat, girl.  Eat something.”  I said, not wanting to eat alone with her watching me, hunger obvious on her face.  To my surprise she didn't hesitate to sit down and begin eating.  I thought she might have, if for no other reason than because she feared me.  She tore into the food with abandon, eating so fast I thought she might choke.  The poor girl was starved.  She seemed to notice me watching her after a moment, and she slowed down her eating, but there were tears in her eyes.

“I'm sorry, Master Lowin.”  She said from around a mouthful of food.  “I didn't mean to eat so much of your...”

I shook my head.  “It's alright.  I wasn't that hungry anyway.  Eat what you want.”  I lied easily.  I was hungry, but my body was never short on energy.  I imagined I could go much longer than the frail girl wrapped in a blanket could before my next meal.  She continued eating, going through most of my food in short order, but I didn't care.  A strong distaste for Renwalk was building up inside me.

“You are nicer than most of them.”  She said in a small voice, after she had finished eating.

I shrugged, not sure who she meant by “most of them,” and not entirely comfortable with that line of conversation.  “I just try to do what is right.”  I replied.

“Your eyes are kind of pretty, not all dark and scary like those others...”  She added, getting up from her seat and coming around the table towards me, the blanket fell off of her shoulders as she moved, exposing the girl's breasts.  “I wouldn't mind making you feel good, you know, since you've been so kind to me.”  She whispered those words into my ear as she drew close.  I felt my body responding to the suggestion, but I shook my head.

“What's your name?”  I asked her.  She kissed my neck.

“Lace.”  She whispered again.

“Well, Lace, you needn't repay my kindness in such a way.  I am content with your company.”  I told her, though I did, indeed, want to have her at that moment.  Physical lust is difficult to suppress, but I felt that it would be wrong to accept Lace's body in payment for giving her the food she so desperately needed.

She moved away from me then, her eyes wet with moisture.  “You really are a good one.”  She said.  “I was so scared when they told me I was to service one of the Dark-Eyes, but you are not like the others, and it's not just your pretty purple eyes.”

I shrugged once more, not sure how to reply, and not sure what that implied about my fellow Knights.  I felt a churning in the pit of my stomach.  Were so many of us really that terrible?  Lace moved over to the bed, dragging her chain behind her, and laid down.  “I really don't mind if you join me.”  She said, once more offering me a sincere temptation.  I got up from my chair and walked to the bed, laying down beside her, but not touching her.  She crawled across the bed to me, running her hands down my torso towards the waist of my pants, but I grabbed her hand and stopped her.

“I recently lost someone who was very important to me, and it still weighs heavily upon my heart.”  I told her.  “Let us just lay and enjoy the quiet for a time.”  She smiled, and it was an honest expression that I guessed she probably did not wear very often.

“Alright, Master Lowin.”  She whispered, and laid her head on my chest. In a matter of minutes she was sleeping, though I didn't fall immediately into the land of dreams.  Who were the Knights of Ethan, and what kind of a band were we that everyone so feared us?  What had our king created?  These questions plagued me, but in time they faded.  The warm press of Lace's body against mine sent my mind in another, painful direction.  My memories ran back to my first and last night in bed with Kye, the desperation and sincerity in our passion together.  Tears crept to my eyes.  The world was not the place I'd always thought it was.  How can I go on without you, Kye?  I thought to myself.  Of course there was no answer, and so I lay in quiet desperation, until sleep finally took me.

“I see you've kept yourself busy while I took care of business,” came a familiar voice, startling me awake.  I sat up in bed, Lace coming awake as well.  Weaver was standing in my doorway, and behind him I could just make out the form of Kensil.  Upon seeing Weaver, Lace cowered behind me, and I could feel her shaking at my back.  Even as I stood up from the bed, the mostly naked girl stayed hidden behind me, the chain on her ankle rattling as she stepped off the feather mattress onto the ground.

“It's not what it seems.  She merely kept me company while I ate, and stayed by me while I slept.”  I said, defending the honor of a girl I knew probably had little left to defend, though it was no choice of her own.  Kensil laughed from where he stood behind the red-eyed warrior, the man I now knew to be Lucidil.

“I've heard she is quite good at keeping one company.”  He said snidely, his lip curling in an unpleasant smile that made me like the man less than I had before, if that were even possible.

I stood up straight, my shoulders stiffening as my ire built.  Weaver seemed to notice, and he moved to head off anything rash I might do or say.  “It matters not, Lowin. It is time for us to be gone.  Get your gear together, and we'll be on our way.”

I shook my head.  “I'll not leave Lace here to be abused.  I want her freed, and given something to start her own life.”  The words left my mouth before I'd really thought them through.  I was, after all, in no position to make such demands.  Lace was a slave, and I was just a passing warrior.  However, it was a decision that must have come to me in my sleep.  Or, more likely still, it was not a decision but simply an inability on my part to allow a person as kind and gentle as Lace to be used and mistreated.  I knew, in my heart, that there were others in her position that I wasn't helping, but what would I be if I allowed such an abuse of humanity to continue in front of my very eyes?

“Master Lowin, you shouldn't put yourself in...”  Lace began, but her words were cut off as Kensil burst into laughter.

The little man's voice was oily and disgusting as he spoke.  “Is this your first flop, boy, that you are so taken by a whore?  She wets your manhood a little, and you fall in love with her?”  He burst into laughter.  “Well you'll get no more of her, she's one of my best girls and I have no...”

Weaver raised his hand, silencing Kensil's outburst.  He eyed Lace, and then he turned his attention to me, an honest curiosity in his eyes.  “What of it, Lowin, what is this little slave girl to you?  There are another hundred like her in the servants' quarters.  Why do you care what happens to this one?”

“How could I not care what happens to a human who is suffering right in front of my eyes, Weaver?  How could anyone not care and still call themselves a man?”  I replied, speaking my heart, and never letting my gaze wander from his.  I searched those red eyes for some sign of humanity, but like my own, they were eyes that were distinctly inhuman.  They had, perhaps, held more life in them when they belonged to their original owner, I thought.

“That is a foolish sentiment.  You can't hope to save them all, and most don't even deserve your notice.”  Lucidil replied, and I saw a sudden spark in his eyes.  “I will make you a bargain, though, and let us see how truly you value your foolish ideal.  I will grant you this favor. I will free the girl and give her money enough that she need never want for anything...”

Kensil broke in angrily.  “You can't do that!  She's one of our best...”

The red-eyed warrior's voice cracked like a whip, heavy with its brutal power.  “I have absolute authority here, Kensil.  Do not forget that.”  Kensil fell backwards into the hallway, shaking, and I noticed with some satisfaction there was a wet spot expanding on the front his pants.  Behind me Lace was shaking so hard that I could hear her teeth rattling together.  The voice had no effect on me.  Weaver, or rather Lucidil, continued where he had left off, his human tones resumed.  “I will free the girl and see she has the means to a happy life, but doing so gives nothing to me, and so I demand a boon of you, in exchange.  I will give your woman her life, but in return you will give me your word that when I demand return, you will repay me, whatever I may ask.”

“What would you have of me?”  I asked, not yet understanding the nature of what Lucidil was bargaining for.

“That's just it, Lowin.  I'm not going to tell you now.  You will get this woman's life, and I will get some guaranteed favor to be decided in the future.”  The light in his red eyes was dangerous and I knew it, but what other choice did I have?  I couldn't turn my back on a person in need if it was in my power to help them.  I felt a tug at my back, and heard Lace whisper softly.

“Sir, you don't have to do anything for me.  I've done nothing to earn such a thing from you. Please don't give the red-eyed man so much power over you.”  Her voice was soft and frightened.

I turned to her, brushed her messed hair back from her tear streaked face and smiled in as reassuring a fashion as I could manage, though I too feared the agreement I was about to enter.  “He already holds much power over me, but this way at least something good comes from it.”  It was true.  Weaver was strong enough that he could force my hand if he wished to. I didn't feel that I was giving him much more then he already had.  I faced Weaver once more.

“Alright, I agree to your terms.”  I said, though I still feared what I might be getting myself into.

He chuckled and shook his head.  “You are noble, Lowin.  You're a great, noble fool.  She'll never be worth what you've just agreed to, I can promise you that.”  The red-eyed warrior crossed the room to Lace, who shrank back from him, but he blurred into motion and in an instant the shackle fell from Lace's ankle to the ground.  He then reached into his cloak and withdrew a large coin purse and put it in my hand.  “That is for her.  I'll meet you in the courtyard in one hour.  By that time I will have finished making arrangements for her.  Don't be late, we've a lot of traveling to do yet, and our new travel companion is eager to be on the road again.”

“New travel companion?”  I asked, but he had already turned his back and was disappearing down the hallway, Kensil in tow.  My moment of confusion was broken when I felt two arms encircle me from behind.

“Master Lowin, you shouldn't have, I don't know what to say to you.  I can never repay...”  Lace was saying and I turned to face her, smiling.

“You can just call me Lowin, and there is no need for thanks.  I just set right something that was wrong.”  I opened the bag of coins I'd been given, and saw the glint of gold.  A good deal of gold, likely more than any commoner would see in their entire life.  I pulled the bag closed and lifted one of Lace's hands, putting the purse in it.  “Find some place nice to live, and live the way you want to.”  I bent down and lifted the blanket from the ground, wrapping it around her shoulders.

Lace pushed her body against mine, supple and inviting, even through the cloth of the blanket.  “Surely you will let me repay you for this, at least once, Lowin?”  She asked, her eyes watering, and her face still streaked with tears.

I shook my head.  “Your body is your own now, Lace, and you need never use it to pay for anything again.  Find someone to love, and share it with them as you will.”

She put her arms around me tightly and squeezed, and I returned the gesture, and then she backed up from me and smiled honestly for the second time since I'd met her.  “Thank you.”  She said.  I nodded, offering her one more smile, before grabbing my things and leaving the room.  It had been difficult not to take her up on her offer, very difficult, but it was the start of her new life, and I would not sully that by using her in such a manner.  She was sincerely happy, I knew, and was making the offer willingly, but she was not doing it out of affection, only gratitude.

I passed through the castle, using my acute memory to guide myself back to the courtyard.  I knew that I would be early, but I had nothing else to do.  I did a great deal of thinking as I walked.  Weaver's real name was Lucidil, and he was one of the first Knights of Ethan.  There was a distinct darkness in him, and the agreement he had forced upon me, I knew, was related to that.  I had played myself into his hand in some way that I was not yet fully aware of.  That made me nervous, but there was little I could do about it at the moment.  I felt as though I was caught up in something far larger than myself, being moved about like a piece on a large game board, and at the moment, Lucidil was the person holding the pieces.

When I reached the courtyard I was surprised to see a figure in a shifting cloak waiting.  He was dressed in one of the new cloaks, like Weaver's, and that immediately struck me as odd, since Weaver had said there were so few of them.  As I approached the hooded figure, he turned to address me.  I staggered to a stop when I saw the face beneath the hood.  A wide grin traced its path across his face as he locked eyes with me.

“Silent?  How did you get here?  Where have you been?”  I asked, not only shocked to see him at Renwalk, but shocked to see him alive at all.  It was only after I had asked all my questions, did I realize it was absurd to ask questions of someone who couldn't talk, and expect answers.  I was surprised again then, when he answered.

“I have been on a special mission for the last month or so.”  He said in a voice I recognized immediately.  I took a step back, startled by his speech, and more so startled by the familiar voice he used.  He was the one who had stood atop the rubble between me and the Lantern Eye the night Fell Rock was attacked.  I was certain of it.  “It is good to see you well.”  He continued the familiar, easy smile on his face that I had seen so many times during the first few months of my training.

“You can talk.”  I stated the obvious, not trusting myself to say anything else.

He nodded.  “I've always been able to talk, but I had been under an order of silence until I left Fell Rock.”  My mind reeled, attempting to put together the fragments of information I had, but unable to make them fit in any semblance of order.  Malice had said, and I believed her, that Silent had vanished from Fell Rock.  I didn't, for a moment, think that she would lie to me about something that important, and I had seen the concern plain on her face when she told me.  Would the king order one of his Knights to action without letting the others know what he intended?  Had Silent been on some private mission that he wasn't allowed to disclose to the rest of us?  I supposed that was a possibility, but it didn't set well with me.  “You've come a long way since I left.”  Silent added, breaking my train of thought.  I forced what I hoped was a sincere smile, and nodded.

“Malice was a good instructor, and Weaver has helped me hone my new abilities.”  I found it difficult to sound natural, but I hoped that Silent took my strange behavior for surprise at his appearance and nothing more.  “I had heard rumors that something bad might have befallen you.”  I said, testing the water with Silent, fishing for information.

He laughed.  “No, I had a mission of a secure nature that I had to take care of.  I was forced to leave rather suddenly, but it is done now, and I'm going to join you and Weaver on your trip south to rendezvous with our main forces.”

His story made sense, but I felt ill at ease.  I wanted to come right out and ask him what had happened the night that Fell Rock collapsed, and what he had been doing there, searching for me, but I felt that keeping my knowledge of his presence there secret was to my advantage at the moment.  “Well it is very good to see you alive and well, my friend.”  I said, lifting my hand to clutch his in friendly greeting.  The hand that came to grip mine was not the same as the one I'd gripped many times before, during my months of training with Malice.  It was clad in black scale, and ended in fearsome claws.  Silent had gained some new features in his time away.  He must have noticed me looking.

“I'm still getting use to them.  It's not always easy.”  He said as he pulled his hand away from mine and flexed the clawed digits.  “They are strong, and fast, but I'm still having trouble with fine control.  Weaver and the others tell me that it comes in time, though.”

I was uncertain how to reply so I simply nodded and decided to change the subject.  “Have you heard anything of Fell Rock?  Do you know of the other survivors?”  The question was still important to me, though I didn't know if Silent would have information to offer.  Kensil had said that the Knight we were to meet had good news, and I was eager to get to the center of that news without letting on that I knew it existed.

Silent chewed his lower lip for a moment before replying, apparently considering his words carefully.  His hesitation piqued my curiosity.  He, like Weaver, was hiding something.  I felt certain of it.  “The attack on Fell Rock was devastating, I'm afraid.  Eighty percent of the Knights stationed there are confirmed dead, the others are unaccounted for.  I'm afraid I don't know any specifics.”

I winced and grit my teeth together.  I felt as though I'd just been dealt a massive physical blow.  “So many...”  I said quietly, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest.  Had Malice gotten out alright?  What good news could Silent have possibly delivered, if it was countered by such a colossal casualty report?  “Is there any other news?”  I asked, hoping there would be some glimmer of hope, and also hoping that Silent, one of the few people I would have considered a friend, would not hide things from me.

“I'm afraid not, Lowin.”  He replied, and I sighed.  Silent and Lucidil were both keeping secrets, and I was to be kept in the dark.  Silent took the sigh to be over the news of the casualties at Fell Rock, and he patted me on the back, hitting me harder than he meant to and forcing me to stagger a bit to keep my footing.  “Sorry,” he apologized hastily.  “Still getting used to things.  Try to be positive, though.  At least you made it out alive, and there are others.  Things will be better down the road.”

“Maybe,” I replied darkly, not certain I believed anything my once friend had told me.  I suddenly felt incredibly alone.  I was saved from any further conversation by the arrival of Weaver.

“I see that you two have already become reacquainted.  That's good.”  His tone was friendly and open.

“Did you take care of the arrangements for Lace?”  I decided it was best to make sure the girl was cared for, rather than trust in Weaver's good graces, which might, or might not, even exist.

Weaver nodded.  “She is free to go and do as she pleases, and I've seen to it that she was granted a small plot of land not far from here.  What she does from here on out is quite her own responsibility.  I trust that meets the requirements of our agreement?”

“Yes, it does.  Thank you.”  I was quite pleased to know that Lace would have a chance at a good life, and though I didn't trust Weaver entirely, I felt no deception in what he'd just told me.

“You shouldn't thank me, Lowin.  By the time you see her again she will have already found another man, and you will still have had to pay for the favor I granted.”  The red-eyed warrior's tone was grim.

“I didn't do it because I wanted her, Weaver.  I did it because I felt she deserved a chance to live as she would.”  I felt no anger at Weaver as I explained this.  He and I saw the world in very different ways.  He was fixated on a goal, and was focused on that goal to the exclusion of all else, while I found myself lost in the world, with no clear goal, but guided by a sense that I must do my best to honor the memory of Kye.

Lucidil's response surprised me.  “They will let you down every time, boy... humans.  If you put too much faith in them, they'll just have better leverage when they try to tear you apart.”  He looked at me with eyes that seemed ancient and, despite my familiarity with the other Knights of Ethan, still impossible for me to read.  “I think you know the truth of it, somewhere inside.  I see it written on your face when you're thinking about her.”  The emphasis on his last word told me exactly who he was referring to.  “She is gone for those humans, dead so that you can fight on their behalf, and that thought consumes your from within. It makes you wonder what really matters in the world anymore, makes you question what your Knighthood really means.  You have placed all of your faith in them, and what horrors have they wrought for your belief in their cause?  They've made of you a brilliant sword, ready to fall at their command.”  He turned from me then, drawing his hood up as he began walking for the gate, his speech short, succinct, and finished.

I drew my own hood up and fell in behind him, confusion overwhelming my ability to speak.  I didn't understand all of what he had said, or what had motivated his words, but they had sounded like a direct defiance of the king.  I wanted to disagree with him, to say that I had not lost my faith in my king, and that I did not question my own worth, or that of the task I'd taken up as a Knight, but I couldn't.  Deep inside I was asking myself those very questions, and had been since I learned of Kyeia's fate.  I wondered how he could possibly know, so precisely, what my innermost worries and questions were.  Silent fell in beside me.

“He is a smart one,” he whispered, pointing at Weaver.  “He's had a lot of time to think and he knows and sees a lot more than the rest of us.  Listen to his advice.  He speaks from a heart that has been hardened by experience.”  With that he fell back behind me, and we left Renwalk in a line of silence.  The only sounds to be heard were our own footsteps, and the rustle of armor as the soldiers we passed snapped to attention.  I felt like part of a funeral precession, and wondered how far from the truth that was.  We were all, the Knights of Ethan, weapons of but one purpose, dealing death, and never had I felt that so keenly.

Traveling into the land beyond human habitation was something that both scared and excited me.  So far south, in the frozen lands where no farmer dared grow crops, the world had been abandoned and nature left to her own devices.  All the dangerous creatures and fierce beasts that humanity had constantly striven to drive from its own territories had been forced into the bitter environments of the south, and become even more terrible in order to survive the inhospitable landscape.  The rolling hills of evergreens and the fields of frozen tundra were home to Fell Beasts. They were massive bipedal monsters that still possessed many features of the wolves they had evolved from, but were driven by a fearsome hunger to hunt constantly.  The Shao Geok roamed in tribes, monsters of intelligence beyond the average animal, scouring the icelands and claiming as much territory as possible.  If any humans made the mistake of trying to establish a settlement beyond the protection of castle Renwalk, the Shao Geok came quickly to devour those foolish enough to intrude upon their icy lands.  The Shao Geok and the Fell Beasts were only two of a large assortment of terrifying creatures living in the south lands.  It was truly a country ruled by monsters.

The company I kept, the two Knights of Ethan, gave me some sense of security as we progressed further into the ice-locked world beyond human civilization, but my confidence in my own skills was not so great that I felt I could handle all the demons of the south.  My travel companions spoke little as we progressed, and I could sense that there was a tension amidst them as well.  I wondered whether it was caused by the danger of our situation, or by some friction between them.  Neither of them seemed inclined to tell me, and so our party traveled on in quiet for two days.  We had gone for nearly a full day without so much as a word passing between us, when Weaver stopped in his tracks and bent to inspect something on the ground.  A moment later he was back on his feet and moving to inspect the trees in the area until he seemed to find what he was looking for.  I watched him curiously, noting that the tree he examined had five deep scar marks across its bark, as though raked by a powerful claw. The red-eyed warrior returned to Silent and me, nodding to Silent as he did so.

“Sign?”  My once quiet, once friend, asked.

“Sign.”  Weaver replied.

“Sign of what?”  I asked, feeling as though information was passing around me that was important to my survival.

The red-eyed warrior smiled at me, a look of unreasonable excitement making his eyes seem to burn in the darkness of the night.  “Fell Beast.”  He answered, and a chill ran down my spine.  “We've entered the territory of a beast of the south, and if I read the sign correctly, we'll be making our way straight through its land.”  He added, that excited expression never leaving his face.

“Perhaps we'll be through before it is aware of us.”  I said, having no desire to meet a Fell Beast, a creature that I knew little about at the time, only that one had severely injured Malice early in her career as a Knight.  If Malice had been injured by one, I felt certain that I didn't want to meet such a beast.

Weaver chuckled.  “If we're seeing sign, it's because the beast already knows we're here.  You see, the Fell Beast enjoys the thrill of the hunt.  It leaves its mark so that we can see it, and fear it.  This one is letting us know that it intends to have us as its prey.  It feeds almost as much on its victims' terror as it does on their flesh.”

I pulled my cloak tighter about me and put my hand on my sword hilt.  “How long do we have before it will attack us?”

“A day or two.  They enjoy stalking.”  Silent added from behind me, and I sensed no humor in his voice.  Silent and Weaver were not merely trying to frighten me, though they were doing just that.   I looked behind me, to Silent, and noticed that there were a few flakes of snow falling between the two of us.  My gaze shifted up into the sky and I could see only darkness above.  The heavy cloud-cover was blocking any light from making it to the ground.  I wondered whether snow would aid or hinder our deadly stalker.

“They hunt best in heavy snow, and by the looks of it, we're to have a serious storm.”  Weaver must have noticed my stare.  He seemed always to be able to read the questions I held inside, even if I never asked them.  It unnerved me.  Our eyes - the eyes of a Knight of Ethan - saw well in the dark, though they did not brighten the night so much as sharpen the details beneath its dark cloak.  Weaver had told me before that heavy snow or rain was more difficult to see through, since our vision's peculiar ability to track motion could become confusing in such circumstances.  I hadn't yet had a chance to fully appreciate that effect, but as the snow began to quicken around us, and the streaks followed every flake through the sky, I was beginning to see just how true his warning had been.

“Come,” Weaver said, starting forward again.  “We should travel as far as we can before the snow sets in and we're forced to stop.”  We started forward once more.  Every hair on the back of my neck was standing straight up.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.  I wasn't certain if it was a justified feeling, or simply paranoia, though I suspected that the feeling was indeed justifiable.  The beast already knew where we were, and it was probably watching us marching further into its territory.

The snow set in fast.  Within an hour we were struggling against gusting winds and conditions that made it impossible to see each other, despite being less than an arms-width apart.  The wind howled between us, making communication without yelling difficult, even if we had been inclined to talk to one another.  It was Silent who finally called an end to our progress.

“We should stop here,” he yelled into the void of wind and snow.  We were near a thick cove of evergreens that would provide some shelter from the wind, even if they couldn't keep out all the blowing snow.

“Fine, find a tree and set your back to it, keep your cloak pulled up tight and you should survive until morning," Lucidil yelled back at us, and so we each took a separate tree, laying close to the trunk where the wind was least biting and the snow was least likely to accumulate.  I noted where both of my travel companions were bedding down, in case of emergency.  As I'd been told to do, I pulled my face mask up over most of my face, and drew my hood so low that it blocked out most of the world.  Being blind, and knowing that we were stalked by a Fell Beast, I couldn't help but fear that which was unseen.  The terrible howl of the wind, a noise like a beast of nightmares screaming through the forest and the darkness, made for an unsettling night.  I did manage to sleep, but not for more than a few minutes at a time.  I waited in anticipation of the attack I felt certain would come during the night, but as the light of day began to brighten the eternal whiteness of the world around me, I was still alive.  The howl of the storm began to fade, and I lifted the hood of my cloak to look out at the changes the storm had wrought.  The cloak, though difficult to see with its shifting camouflage on the outside, was solid black on the inside, so I was ill prepared for the brightness that met my eyes upon first peering out.  During the night the snow had covered me almost to my neck, and it took a good deal of force to break the seal that had been formed about my body.  I stood up and pushed myself through the snow, going to where I remembered Silent and Weaver to have bedded down.

“Weaver? Silent?”  I called, but there was no answer.  I walked to the positions they'd been in the night before and found only a slight depression in the snow where the two of them should have been.  A note of panic struck me, and I had to force myself to remain calm.  I scanned the field of white around me, the snow nearly as high my thighs.  There were no tracks, no sign of passage.  Wherever they had gone, they had vanished not long after we'd stopped the night before and the storm had erased all memory of their passing from the earth.  My initial fear was that they'd been taken in the night by the Fell Beast, but I couldn't believe that Weaver would go down without a fight.  Of course, I had to consider the possibility that I might not have heard a fight in the howling wind of the night before.  Besides, the other possibility was that Silent and Weaver had intentionally left me in the night, and that prospect didn't make any sense.  I had been traveling with Weaver for a long time, merely to have him leave me alone in the most dangerous wilderness we'd passed through made little sense. Assuming they had not willingly left, I was forced to consider the first possibility more seriously.  Had the beast come in the night and taken Silent and Weaver knowing that they were the strongest, and that it would best be rid of them when it had the advantage?  With only myself left, I would be easy prey for a creature of such incredible ferocity and hunger, and it could enjoy the hunt and capture with little worry.  I drew my sword and held it at the ready.

I would have to keep traveling south, no matter what had happened.  I needed to reunite with the Knights of Ethan.  If I were being hunted I would need to travel fast and remain cautious.  If the beast had killed both Weaver and Silent in the night, I had little hope of surviving with my meager skills and abilities, but I would not allow myself to be defeated without at least making an attempt to escape.  I did my best to orient myself southward, making as clear a judgment as possible based on the position of the sun.  I wasn't as directionally acute as Weaver, and the sun was mostly obscured by clouds, but it was all I had to work with.  From somewhere not too far away, a howl tore into the void of white and urged me to get moving.  The deep snow was difficult to move through, but I pushed onward, looking up to take my position whenever it was possible.  The storm had gone, but the cloud cover was omnipresent, the sun rarely shining out from behind the thick cloud-cover to allow me to get my bearings.  The snow came and went as I traveled, and always I felt the pressure of eyes on my back.  Occasionally, when I would begin to feel comfort in my progress, another howl would echo through the trees to remind me that my pursuer was still following.  I kept my fist tight around the handle of my weapon and trudged on.

My course, though generally aimed southward, meandered and turned as I struggled to make a good pace across the confusing, snow-covered terrain.  An endless field of white, broken only by trees and the occasional rock, stretched out before me, a labyrinth of complexity unparalleled by anything man-made.  Every mile of travel looked exactly like the previous.  I was not an experienced traveler, and had little skill in identifying landmarks, if there had been landmarks to identify.  I became increasingly concerned as the hours passed and the sky began to darken with steadily growing cloud cover.  I ate my midday meal on the move, but by the time I had finished, the snow had started falling again, and was growing faster and heavier with every passing minute.  The world around me slowly began to vanish into streams of motion that made progress difficult, but I did not allow myself to stop.  Whatever had happened to Silent and Weaver in the night, I did not wish the same to happen to me.  I supposed some would prefer a quick death in their sleep to the waking knowledge of their own impending doom, but I was not one of those people.

My cloak kept the cold from seeping into my body and also kept off the dampness, but my boots - though treated for bad weather and of superior crafting - did not have the same magical properties that the fabric of my cloak did, and my feet were growing cold, though not yet damp.  I was thankful for that latter, as wetness would have only compounded the cold.  The snow, already nearly to my waist, was climbing slowly higher as the fury of the storm grew, and that made the footing treacherous.  More than once I placed my foot on what I assumed was solid ground, only to find there was a hole hidden beneath the snow.  So far south there were no roads, and very few paths that were anything more than game trails.  As lost as I was, I doubted that I was near any such trail, and so trudged my way across the uneven ground that made up the wilderness of the deep southlands without the ability to see where I would place my next footfall.

A howl sounded from behind me, far nearer than any of the times I'd heard it previously, and I knew that the Fell Beast was drawing closer.  The game of the hunt was nearing its conclusion, my time dwindling fast.  My hand was still clenched about my sword hilt, and though I had drawn it back under my cloak to stop my fingers from freezing, I removed it from the warmth of its coverings.  I would need it soon, and it would serve me best if it were ready to be used.  I looked behind me as I kept moving southward, noting that even the trail I'd carved through the snow was already filling in.  The churning snow obscured any details past a few feet in my wake, but I could see something in the snow, directly behind me, no more than twenty feet away.  It was large, and hunched over it still stood taller than myself.  I could make out little of its actual form, but it moved in a manner far different from the falling snow, and so stood out clearly to my motion-sensitive eyes, a massive shape amidst the flutter of ethereal ice flakes.

“If you want me beast, come now.  I'm tired of your games.  Let me kill you now and we'll be done with this.”  I shouted into the bluster of the wind, a bluster of my own fury, a last ditch effort to intimidate the monstrosity that pursued me.  It didn't work - the dark shape amidst the snow began to move towards me.  It is impossible to control fear, but it is possible to control the effect fear has on one's body.  I had to summon my utmost control as the Fell Beast, a demon not fit for our world at all, stalked through the snow toward me.  As it came nearer, the snow abated just long enough for me to get my first clear glimpse of the horrible beast.  The creature stood a foot taller than myself, and was clad in thick fur of the deepest black, though banded at the wrists, the tips of its ears, and its throat in a brilliant red that I could hardly believe was naturally occurring.  Its long, dexterous hands ended in obsidian claws that looked as sharp, or sharper, than the sword I held in defense.  It stood on two massively powerful legs, though they were mostly obscured in the thick snow.  Its head was like that of a wolf, but larger, and with eyes that shone black even in the darkness of the storm.  The maw of the creature was larger than any wolf's I'd ever seen, and adorned with long teeth, obviously designed for tearing.  It looked lean and fierce, every inch a primal killer.  I could see the muscles rippling beneath its coat of fur as it took each slow, measured step towards me.  Though it walked on two feet, I could see that its body would easily allow it to fall forward to run on all fours.  It didn't do that now, though.  It stalked in on its hind legs, looking like a demonic caricature of man and wolf.

I leveled my sword at the thing's throat and prepared for an attack.  The snow blew up again, and for a moment I lost sight of the beast entirely.  That almost cost me my life.  When next I saw the demonic wolf-creature, it was only a few feet from me, one of its clawed arms ripping through the air with the intent of taking out my throat.  The only thing that saved me was my well-practiced ability to slow my perception of time.  It switched on automatically as the threat made itself evident.  The strike was still coming fast, far too fast for me to move my sword to intercept, so I dropped backward instead, letting inertia do what reflexes were unable to.  The claw barely cleared the top of my cloak, and the creature's other arm was already moving to follow through with a second stroke.  I twisted my body in my downward plunge and forced my arm out to connect with the ground and turn my momentum.  In order to do this, I had to push myself all the way to my body's limits, and I felt pain ring upwards through my arms as I connected with the ground and twisted myself into position to meet the creature's second blow.  I could force my body to do what was necessary, but it didn't have to like it.  My sword came up into position just in time to meet the rush of the creature's clawed strike but I was ill-prepared for the force of the blow, and still off balance, only half way to my feet.  I let the beast's claws fall flat across the edge of my blade, expecting to cause some damage, but instead there was a tremendous transfer of force and my sword was pushed back into me, only just hitting on the blunt side rather than the terrible, razor-honed blade.  I felt my feet being lifted from the ground, and though I'd managed to stop myself from being torn apart, the blow was still so powerful that it threw me through the air.  I gasped out a breath of air and the world resumed its normal pace, plummeting me back into the carpet of white in an instant.  Sweat was beading on my brow, brought on by my physical exertion and the warping of perceived time, which was a strenuous in itself.  I barely managed to keep my footing in the rough landing.  As soon as I was balanced I again forced myself back into the slowed perception of time.  I knew that without that advantage, I would surely be dead.

The monster had followed me almost as fast as I had fallen, and as time slowed, and the chaos of falling snow dissipated into the eerie dance of the world at a near standstill, I could see its terrible teeth reaching out to grab my arm.  I yanked the arm away as fast as I dared do so, and its teeth caught my sword instead.  I attempted to tear the sword free, hoping to cause some damage in the process, but the Fell Beast's teeth were more powerful than any blacksmith's vice and I couldn't recover my blade from those locked jaws.  In the meantime, as I struggled to free my weapon, the creature's forward motion carried it into me, driving us both into the deep snow.  There was white everywhere, and I was trapped in its consuming darkness, just myself and the thrashing monster above me.  I used all my considerable muscle to heave at my sword, but was only rewarded with the terrible shaking of the creature's jaws as it attempted to pull my weapon away from me.  The blade hilt, wet from the snow, slipped through my fingers with surprising ease.  I kicked up with my right leg as hard as I could and scored a hit between the creature's legs.  I knew little of Fell Beasts, but if the one attacking me was male, and if it had anything like familiar anatomy, I was staking my hopes that it would find such an attack quite off-putting.  It was a desperate move, but it was all I had left in the position I was in.

There was a fearsome yelp of pain and suddenly the pressure was gone from my chest.  I struggled to my feet, knowing the beast would not remain gone long.  I fumbled through the snow in search of my weapon, my hope draining away with every fragment of a second it took to find it, but my hand brushed cold metal in short order and I let myself breathe a sigh of relief.  I recovered my sword and stood up, ready to fight once more.  The beast was not far away.  It stood maybe five feet apart from me, its face contorted into a fearsome snarl of rage, barely visible between gusts of snow.  One of its claws was dripping, and I briefly thought I might have injured the beast with my sword when I blocked its blow at the beginning of our fight.  I realized, only a second later, that it was I who was injured.  There was a terrible pain stemming from my lower abdomen, and I realized with alarm that the demon of a beast had torn through my cloak and into my flesh at some point while we fought in the snow.  My ability to heal was working on the injury, but it was no minor cut, and the healing would take time.  I didn't have time.  If I did not win out in the next pass, my time would be up.  I wasn't being pessimistic - I simply knew that the creature was too powerful, and too well adapted to its environment for me to last more than one more encounter.  Another injury would weaken me further, and I could ill afford that.  Already my body was burning with its efforts to both heal my wounds and maintain my control in slow time.

I brought my sword up in front of me and readied myself for the final pass.  There was a flash, and I pushed my perception back into my only advantage.  The beast was ripping through the snow, kicking up a torrent of powder in its wake and coming at me with such speed as I'd only ever seen the Knights of Ethan use.  I knew my body didn't want to move fast enough to do what was necessary to stop the Fell Beast from killing me, but I also knew that it would have to or nothing I had been through would matter to anyone.  I concentrated all my will into my arms and forced them to push past their limits.  Within the crawling frame of time I heard a roaring crack as the bones in my arms shattered with the force and speed of my motion to bring my sword into position.  I leveled the point at my enemy and used everything else I had to stab forward.  The beast apparently could move fast, but couldn't see things the way I did, because it charged head-long into my weapon, not expecting me to have been able to ready the blade in time to do what was necessary.  I did it though, the effort costing me dearly.  The bones in my hands and arms shattered as though struck by a hammer, and the muscles and ligaments holding everything together tore to shreds.   If not for the force of the initial exertion, and the momentum of the beast, my blow would have had nothing solid behind it, for my arms were destroyed.  The strike, however, was true, and the blade split the monster's skull in half and it fell dead, tumbling through the snow and knocking me from my feet in the process.  The world lurched back into normal time.

My sword flew from my shattered hands and fell into the snow some feet away, and I collapsed back into the snow, the velocity of my enemy carrying us both backward into the world of whiteness.  I couldn't move because all of my energy was expended, and I couldn't begin to remove the dead creature from where it lay on top of me.  My arms were useless wells of terrible pain, doing nothing more than throbbing in fearsome, angry protestation at the damage I had wrought upon them.  I screamed a cry of pure agony into the night, certain no one would hear me, but equally certain I couldn't possibly keep all the pain inside.  I wanted to black out, but my new body was better than that.  It wouldn't let me lose consciousness while I was still suffering and in such a precarious situation.  I lay for what seemed like forever, hoping the pain might stop sometime soon, but knowing that it would not.  The damage I had done might take days to repair.  I had broken bones in practice, and they'd healed in a few hours, but I had never so thoroughly destroyed part of my body before.  I wasn't even certain the damage could be repaired entirely.

I must have lain in the snow for nearly two hours before I first heard footsteps approaching, crunching through the soft packed field of white.  At first I panicked, fearful that another beast was coming, but the notion only bothered me initially.  I was hurt, alone, and buried in the snow.  I was going to die whether some monster killed me or not, and at that moment in time I didn't care how I met my end, so long as there was an end.  Thoughts of dying soon fled, though, when I heard muffled voices from beyond the dome of snow that had formed over me and the dead Fell Beast.

“Hello!”  I called out, and found my voice stronger then I'd thought it would be, perhaps invigorated by the prospect of rescue, or perhaps only loud because of the closeness of the snow around me.  In reply I heard rapid footfalls heading in my direction.  A moment later the snow was being cleared off of me and I met the red eyes of Weaver.  He looked down at me, and down at the creature lying dead atop me, a smile on his face.

“You did it, Lowin.  Silent didn't think you would, but you've done it... and well!” He called to the other, and Silent ran up beside him, a look of relief passing over his features as he saw me alive and aware.  “Silent, Look at the markings on this one?”  Weaver was saying excitedly.  “Do you see them?  It's a red stripe.  I've never seen one like this before.”

Silent smiled down at me.  “Congratulations, Lowin. I was worried about you.  I certainly didn't believe you were ready when Weaver told me you were, but...”  He let his words trail off and I looked up at him in confusion.

“Ready for what?  What's going on here”  I asked, angry at the two travel companions who had abandoned me in the night, and from what I gathered of what had transpired so far, that is exactly what they had done to me.  I was filled with ire and indignation.

“It was time for you...”  Silent began, but Weaver cut him off.

“Not quite yet, Silent.  He'll know in a few minutes here, help me get this thing off him so we can get started, before it's too late.”  Weaver's voice grew distant as he went to haul on the end of the creature furthest from me.  Silent grabbed the end on my torso, and between the two of them they lifted it away from my body as if it weighed nothing at all.  I heard the sound of chopping, swords piercing flesh, and I wondered why they were dismembering the monster's corpse.  Were they going to eat it?

There were a few minutes of quiet, and a moment later I heard Weaver say.  “Alright, I've got everything ready that we'll need.”

Silent's voice followed.  “I suppose you want me to hold him?”

“Of course, first get his cloak off.”  Came the answer.

Silent reappeared above me, and I eyed him suspiciously.  He wouldn't meet my eyes.  “What are you two going to do?”  I asked him, doing my best to try and move from where I was laying in the snow. My legs were numb from having the beast on them, but they moved, so I began pushing myself away from the two travel companions that I suddenly distrusted.  They had abandoned me, and now they were back for some other mischief.  My arms were useless, and my stomach still hadn't healed, probably the result of my body's healing abilities being pushed to their limits by my exertions and the damage to my arms.  Silent quickly pulled my cloak from me, easily handling me in my weakened state.  When he had finished removing my shifting cloak, and I lay in the cold snow, he straddled my body and then sat across my torso, pinning me down with his powerful arms.  It was at that point that I really noticed the arms holding me down for the first time, the heavy black fur, and long, articulate digits ending in razor claws.  The realization struck me all at once, coming together from all that I had witnessed.  I remembered the blistering speed at which the Fell Beast had moved, and the way it was able to turn aside a sword strike with its claws without taking a cut, and even the feel of its fur against me as we battled.  It had been familiar, but I had not seen it, or not wanted to see it.  Before I had any further time to consider, Weaver was standing over me with his sword drawn, the blade still red from its previous use on the beast.

“I'll not lie to you, Lowin.  This is going to feel terrible, but when it's all done, and you've had four or five days to recover, you'll be a new man... again.”  The red-eyed warrior said, and, after considering, he added, “Try not to move.”  He lifted his sword arm, and in a flash I felt pain tear through first one, then other of my shoulders.  I couldn't help but scream out and convulse at the terrible sundering.  I felt Silent pushing down harder on my torso, restraining me.  Weaver moved quickly, using the full extent of his speed to do the work he intended.  He flashed away, and returned with first one arm, and then another, carefully stitching the flesh of the Fell Beast to my own body.  “I've done this many times, boy, don't worry.  Your body will fix things up just the way they need to be.  Stay calm, breathe deep.”  He said as he worked, but it was hard to stay calm as the lifeless lumps of flesh were attached in place of my arms.  Once he was done with the arms, he and Silent shifted positions, and I knew what was to come next.

“This will hurt worse, and you may black out from blood loss.”  I heard Weaver say.  There was a blur of motion, though I couldn't see what he was doing anymore, and my perfectly good legs were sheered away from my body and tossed aside.  I did black out then, but only for a short time.  When I came to, Weaver was staring at me, his eyes locked on mine.  He had a knife in one hand.  I tried to flinch away, but his weight was holding me down.

“Do you think he can handle those too?  Most can't.”  I heard Silent ask, a note of worry in his voice.

Weaver smiled down at me.  “This one can handle a lot more than this.  He's got something special in him.”  He said to Silent, and then to me he added.  “You're not going to like this one at all, and it's probably going to hurt much worse than your legs did.  We won't be able to talk for a few days, so before you black out, I want you to know that everything is going to be alright.  You'll pull through strong, and then we can talk about your future.”

My body hurt so badly that I could barely focus on what he was saying through all the pain.   What more, I wondered, could they possibly be doing to me.  “No more.”  I said, the words coming out weak despite my best effort.

“I'm afraid so.”  Lucidil said, and then his knife flashed.  I felt a terrible pain in my right ear, an agony unlike any I'd felt before, a brutal penetration of the very core of my being.  I knew what the final change was.  Like Lucidil and some of the others, I was to have the keen, wolf-like ears as well.  The world went blank for me again, and this time the darkness stayed for a long while.

I found myself jolted roughly back into awareness.  After looking about for a moment I was able to discern that I was on an improvised stretcher, being dragged across the snow by Weaver, or at least I guessed it was Weaver, since I could see Silent walking a few feet behind the stretcher.  Silent took notice of my sudden alertness and called out to the person pulling me.  I could see the black-eyed warrior's lips move, but heard nothing at all.  In fact, the entire world seemed to have gone quiet.

“I can't hear.”  I said aloud, thinking I might somehow hear my own voice, but despite the fact that I could feel the vibration of my words in my throat, not a sound reached me.  I wanted to reach for my ears, knowing they had been replaced, but even that action was denied me.  My arms were not my own.  The place where my shoulders met the alien flesh burned and ached, and I thought I could feel a faint tingle somewhere below the shoulder, in a place where my arms should have been, but I couldn't be certain it wasn't just a phantom sensation.  The litter I was on lowered to the ground, and suddenly Weaver's red eyes were staring down at me.  His lips were moving, and he smiled, but there was no sound.

“I can't hear.”  I said to him again.  At least, I thought I said it, but without being able to hear my voice, I wasn't absolutely sure that I had said anything at all.  My heart was beating fast in my chest, panic welling up from within me.  It was alarming to find oneself armless, legless, and deaf, when not long before one had possessed all of their faculties.  I had to concentrate on relaxing my breathing.

Weaver just nodded and mouthed a few words that I couldn't distinguish.  He made a short show of pretending to close his eyes and sleep, and then pointed at me.  I realized he wanted me to rest, and with little else to do, I decided I might as well.  I closed my eyes, and found myself in darkness all the deeper for the complete silence that accompanied it.  I worried that I might never hear again, or that my arms might never function again, or my legs.  I knew that many of the other Knights had gone through similar things and turned out fine, but still I felt a seed of doubt.  What if, I wondered, I did not heal as the others had, and I was forever broken?  A tingling fire shot up through my new right arm, telling me that such would not likely be the case.  I tried flexing the first finger of my right hand and nothing happened.  I felt that something should have happened, could envision my hand closing with absolute clarity, but nothing responded.  I knew that I needed patience.  Given time, I would be able to use my new limbs, the new portions of my body.

I felt a strange pang of loss at that thought.  My new body.  Slowly I was becoming less and less a human man and more some other creature entirely.  Would my new limbs change me further?  Was I to become more like Weaver with the passing of time, a thing of purpose, with no compassion for those around me?  “Kyeia, what am I, and what am I becoming?  Would you still love me if you knew me now?  Could you still care for such a fallen creature?”  I thought the words into the great void, knowing they would never reach her, but needing to project them out anyway.

Since she had died, I had spent many nights wishing the world had been a different place, and wondering what my role was to be in it, but never had I felt so very distant from her as I did at that point, trying to rest, caught somewhere between humanity and monstrosity.  She had believed in me, even when I had not, and that had been a driving force behind my ability to move forward.  Despite all of her belief, I was in a position of little importance.  I had lost faith in my king and my country, and no longer trusted those who claimed to be my brothers in arms.  I wanted one person that I could turn to, that might help me make sense of the things that were happening about me, but with the passing of Kye, and the fall of Fell Rock separating me from Malice, there was no one left to turn to.  My thoughts were truncated by a stabbing pain flashing through my head, from my left ear straight through to my right.  I almost called out in shock, but thankfully I did not.

“...really think he will listen to our side of things?”  I heard Silent's voice, quiet at first, but steadily growing louder.  My ears had begun to work again.   I kept my eyes closed, and found that I could, with some considerable effort, shift the direction my ears were picking up the clearest sound from.  It was a process that made use of sets of muscles I hadn't previously had, but the effort paid off.

“He is like-minded, Silent.  I've talked to him much over the past few weeks, and I've seen the demons he hides in his soul.  He is like me.”    Lucidil was saying, his voice softened as he went on.  “He loved the girl, you know, and she loved him as well.  It's in the eyes.  The bond is stronger in those who share an emotional connection, and it comes through in the eyes.  Have you ever seen brighter than his?”

I was shaken by that revelation, almost to the point that I gave up on my feigned sleep and entered the conversation, but I realized immediately that I would learn more by maintaining my illusion of deafness.  My travel companions didn't suspect that I was awake, and certainly didn't think that I'd have my hearing back yet.  Those were advantages I couldn't afford to cast away so easily.

“No, I haven't.”  Silent admitted.  “I remember when I served as his guard Kyeia use to sneak into his room every couple of days.  I knew she wasn't supposed to be there, but those two were at their happiest together, and I wasn't going to be the one to keep them apart.  Lowin had not another friend in the world, except perhaps me.  Malice drove him harder than I'd ever seen her push a pupil, and the other Knights kept their distance, as they always do with the new trainees.  Every single day I wanted to tell him what was coming...”

“...and that is why I bound you to silence, my friend.  You would have given everything away in a moment if you'd been allowed to talk.”  Weaver cut Silent off in mid-sentence.  All around their words danced some secret truth, eluded to, but not directly spoken of.  Silent's poignant memories of Kye, and our time at Fell Rock, stung the way only fresh emotional scars can.  I felt a mix of anger and a grudging respect for Silent.  I was angry that he had kept the secret of Kye's fate from me, even knowing how we felt about each other, but I respected him for allowing us our time together.  The quiet dark-eyed Knight of Ethan had been, as hard as it was for me to admit in the face of the lies and half-truths he'd told me recently, a good friend to Kye and me.

“I suppose.”  Silent spoke, just above a whisper, and then louder he added.  “You took a huge risk by pushing him against a Fell Beast so soon after his rise to full Knight.  It could have killed him, and sending him into the deep interior...”

“You have such little faith in your old companion.”  Came Lucidil's sardonic reply.  “He is driven.  Sending him against anything less than the most powerful of the Fell Beasts would have been doing him a grave disservice.  What, do you think I should have brought him to the drake-kin?   They are slow, and weak.  Do you think he would have thanked me for giving him such a weak blood bond?”

Silent sighed.  “Would he have thanked you if he'd been killed?”

“If he had been killed by a Fell Beast, would he have really been the type of person who would do us any good?”  Weaver's answer to Silent's rhetorical question sent a chill down my spine.  As passionately as Weaver spoke, in the end his reasoning always came back to his driving purpose.  I knew not what his goals were, but whatever they were; he never lost sight of them.  He would use whatever, and whoever, he needed to in order to achieve his ends.  When Silent didn't answer for a while, Weaver continued.  “It had to be done.  Lowin needed to kill the beast himself, to form the bond of blood, and it needed to be a powerful creature.  When he is back on his feet, he will thank us.”

“We are creating quite the monster, Lucidil.  I hope you can control it.”  Silent said.

“We're all monsters, Silent, but there are monsters much worse than any of us.  This one is fearsome, and growing more so, but he will serve our purpose well.  The one we must worry about is the monster who wears the golden crown, and feasts on the lives of his underlings as though they were naught but cattle.  He is the real beast.”  Weaver replied, and I realized with a sudden lurching in my stomach, that my situation had just become much more complicated.

“Lowin, can you hear me?”  The calm voice of Lucidil woke me from the sleep I'd been enjoying.  I was still being dragged on the litter through the snow.  I was aware that if my red-eyed companion was talking to me, that meant he suspected that I was reaching an appropriate time for my hearing to be back.  I didn't know how long I'd slept, but I guessed it had been several hours since I'd been awake.  My hearing was now quite acute, the smallest sounds coming to me, crystal clear, from distances I wouldn't have imagined.  What was more, I found that my new ears almost automatically honed in on sounds as they occurred, twisting and adjusting to funnel stray noises with no effort from me.  I was uncertain why, but my healing was coming along at a much faster rate that Lucidil seemed to think it should.

“Yes.”  I decided to answer him.  I could have tried to hide my hearing for a longer time, but with my new ears constantly twitching and tuning into different sounds, I risked giving myself away.

“Good, you're healing fast.  You may have difficulty hearing things clearly for a while, but that should be cleared up in a day or so.  How do you feel?”  He seemed pleased that he was able to talk to me again, happy at my progress in healing, at least.  If I had not heard him speaking of my “purpose” earlier, I would have thought he'd simply been concerned for my wellbeing.  As things stood, I was nettled by the question more than comforted.

I took mental stock of myself, lightly flexing my muscles and stretching areas I knew to be injured in order to see what condition my body was in.  My stomach was healed entirely.  My new arms and legs were full of pins and needles, as though I had slept improperly on them, and they felt a little numb, but I could move the claws on my hands and flex my wolf-like feet with little effort.  My ears were, of course, working quite well.  I quickly made the decision not to share all of this information with my travel companion.

“I can't feel my arms or legs, but they burn sometimes.”  I told him, remembering how my arms and legs had felt when I'd last been awake.

“Excellent.  Your body is adjusting far more quickly than I'd anticipated.  By the time we reach the camp, you will be ready to start taking your first steps using your new body, and we'll be there by tomorrow evening.”  His voice held an excitement that I didn't share.  I had realized, after hearing Weaver admit his hate for the king, that I was in the hands of “the enemy” I had so often heard about.  At least, that is what I believed.  If it was true, then I was not heading to the camp of the Knights of Ethan, but to some other place entirely.  I knew nothing of what waited for me, but I suspected it would not be to my liking.  “Silent has gone ahead to secure us passage to Howling Wind, a boat from one of the local tribes.  I don't want you to be alarmed when we get there.”

“Why would I be alarmed?”  I questioned, suddenly on guard.

“The local tribes aren't human, they're Shao Geok.”  Weaver explained, as if it should have been obvious.

I tried, probably unsuccessfully, to hide the surprise in my voice.  “Silent is negotiating with the Shao Geok?”

“Of course.  They're intelligent, and if you have something they want, any intelligent creature will negotiate.”  The red-eyed traitor explained.

I should have known that he had come to some agreement with the Shao Geok, but I was still assembling all of the information I'd pieced together into one coherent picture.  The first attack on my life, back before my training began, in the carriage with Kye and Tempest, had been carried out by the Shao Geok.  If Lucidil really was “the enemy,” then I should have known that he had connections with them.  The only question that remained unanswered for me was what had changed that made me an asset to Lucidil instead of a hindrance?  He had tried to kill me before, but now he was going out of his way to insure that I survived my trip south, and indeed, was stronger for it.

“Pardon me for not trusting them, but they were not exactly hospitable last time we crossed paths,” I offered, interested to see what Weaver would have to say regarding that.

“I heard about your run in with the Shao Geok on your way to Fell Rock.  Thankfully Tempest was able to hold them off until backup arrived.  There is no need to fear these, though.  They have been well compensated, and the Shao Geok, the vicious flesh eaters that they are, have a code of ethics that will keep them from backing out of our arrangement.”  His voice held a tone of assurance that didn't waver.

I wondered what sort of “arrangement” had been made with the monsters.  I couldn't begin to guess what they would want so badly that they would be willing to serve a Knight of Ethan, even a fallen one, like Weaver.  “In that case, I suppose my fate is in your hands.”  I replied.  There was no denying the truth of my words.  Though I didn't trust Weaver, there was little else I could do but let myself be guided by the red-eyed warrior.  My body was still adjusting to its changes, and until it finished I would be unable to fend for myself. I suspected that if I had to, I could walk on my new legs, but it would be a risky endeavor.

“Don't worry.  We're already through the worst of things.  By this time tomorrow we will be in our camp at Howling Wind, a warm meal before us, and a warm bed ahead of us.”  He again spoke in tones of reassurance.

I thought for a moment and then said, “I hope many of our fellow Knights have made it there safely.”

“Who knows?”  Weaver replied, but his voice had lost some of its good cheer.  “Tomorrow will see the world in a new light.  Until then, let us not worry.”   We traveled on in silence, and for that I was just as happy.

Lucidil plodded on all through the night, dragging the stretcher - and me on it - behind him as if it weighed nothing at all.  In the morning, I saw the first signs of civilization.  We passed a crudely fashioned mud hut just past dawn, and all around it ran the Shao Geok.  The young - and I assumed they were the young for they were smaller than the adults I remembered seeing so long ago - were nearly as large as a man when they stood erect, though they generally romped about on all fours.  There were five or six of them rolling around and playing together like children of any culture might. As we approached, their attention turned to us and their fierce, wide-spaced eyes took on a burning light, noses upturned to catch our scent as we approached.  With our cloaks on, Weaver and I were both difficult to see, though I was lying on a stretcher, and that went a long way toward breaking my illusion of invisibility.  A sharp bark emitted from one of the children who was soon joined by the others.  In answer, another of the Shao Geok emerged from the mud hut, crawling out on all fours through the small door and coming to stand fully erect as it exited.  The creature's thick furred chest was lined with midsized breasts, four per side, for a total of eight.  Its lip curled in a snarl at the sight of us.  I guessed it to be the mother of the smaller beasts. It barked - a deeper, more resonant sound than the younger creatures had made - and the little ones quickly filed into the mud building.  The mother took her place in front of the door and watched us, I thought with a look of suspicion, as we made our way past.  Weaver did not slow on our course.

“You see, they know we are about business and will not bother us.  They fear us more than we fear them,” Weaver's voice was calmly confident.  I had heard that saying before, “They are more afraid of us than we are of them.”  It was something that all mothers told their children when talking about the wolves of the woods, or the great bears that sometimes came too close to the cities.  I had never believed my mother, but I found that I believed Weaver.  It wasn't his words that convinced me, but the actions of the mother, concerned for her cubs.  I was forced to reassess my view of the Shao Geok.  They were terrifying, and perhaps dangerous to humans, but they were also just another creature of the world, trying to live their lives as they saw fit.

“If they are monsters, what are we that we are feared by monsters?”  I asked Lucidil, though the question was more to myself than him.

His reply came after a short chuckle.  “You worry too much.  We are what we make of ourselves.  That's all anyone can ever be.”

His answer was simple, but poignant.  Perhaps I needed to worry less about what I was, and think more about what I wanted to do with what I had become.  I was changed.  I could feel it, but I was also the same Lowin I had always been.  At least, I believed I was the same Lowin I had always been.  I was stronger, faster, more dangerous, but I still felt like myself.  I could use my new power for the betterment of the world if I could only figure out how.

I flexed the muscles of left arm and clenched my fist.  The arm answered my call immediately, the pins and needles gone from it.  I could still feel some weakness in the limb, but it was fading fast.  The night had almost completed my healing.  I was the only one aware of that so far. While that remained true, I was at an advantage. I was, however, still greatly disadvantaged by the fact that I had never used my new limbs, and would likely be uncoordinated with them until I'd had some time to adapt.  Still, I was already formulating plans of escape.  I would need more time, at least another few hours before my body would be fully ready, but once the healing was done I would only need a small opportunity to make a getaway.  I felt confident that if I could just get a head start, Lucidil and his ilk would never be able to catch me.  Of course, I didn't have any idea where I would run to, or what I might accomplish by running in the first place.  I wanted to sigh in exasperation, but I didn't want Weaver to hear and start asking questions.  I would need to bide my time and think.  Escape was pointless if I had no plan to follow it.  The smell of sea air pulled me from my doomed circle of troubles.  My ears twisted and caught the sound of ocean surf crashing against a shore.  We were nearing our destination.

Mud huts began to pop up frequently.  Their inhabitants went about their business, mostly indifferent to the strangers in their midst, though some of the Shao Geok did cast fearful expressions in our direction.  Apparently they knew only too well the might of Weaver and his kind - my kind.  Some few, though, gazed at us with a different look entirely, one that was filled with a terrible hunger.

“I've secured us passage.”  I heard a voice calling, and a moment later Silent trotted up next to us.  He looked down at me for a moment and smiled.  “You're looking a lot better.”

“I'm feeling a lot better.”  I told him, and returned his smile, since it looked natural on his face.  Silent was a conundrum.  He was obviously serving Weaver, but he seemed little changed- other than his voice - from when I had known him as my guard.  He was still quick to smile, and showed a genuine interest in my wellbeing.  It would have been easier to know what to think of him if he'd been more like Lucidil, cold and always a bit distant.  If such had been the case I could dislike him, distrust him, but his ever friendly and open face made it impossible to dislike the black-eyed warrior.

“That's good because the weather is not in our favor for a crossing." Silent seemed oddly cheery about this.

“The Walking Death are adept at sea craft and their handling.  In these parts they've had to become so in order to survive.  The game in the area is very limited, so they eat mostly fish.  They will see us safely to our destination.”  Weaver assured Silent and me.  We made our way through the rest of the ramshackle town of the monsters, past homes and buildings that looked like they served some form of public purpose, perhaps stores or meeting halls.

The extent of the Shao Geok society astounded me.  They had a level of social interaction I had never anticipated.  The males stood protectively in front of their mates, and their offspring, eyeing us as we proceeded to the ocean, some sporting sashes about their bodies lined with various implements and tools.  For the most part they were completely unclad other than their fur, but some of the females wore necklaces of cord strung with feathers, bone, and occasionally a colorful rock or jewel.  The loremaster in me wanted to stay longer in their village, to learn more about them as a people, but the more pragmatic part of me insisted that the less time we spent amongst them, the better off we would be.  They may be intelligent, and they may have a unique society, but they still considered humans a loathed rival and easy source of food.

We reached the ocean front in short order, Silent leading us to the craft that would take us across the stretch of ocean between the mainland and our island destination.  The boat was larger than I had imagined it would be, being sizable enough to easily sit fifteen or more of the south coast's native residents, and even more humans.  The craft seemed constructed of a large hollowed out tree, the wood treated with a substance I was unfamiliar with that caused water to bead on its surface instead of soaking into the wood.  There was one creature already aboard the vessel, sitting in the bow, its long arms draped in the water, and another standing on shore, obviously waiting for our arrival.  As we approached, it made a croaking sound in its throat, followed by a gravely bark.

“Yes, just the three of us.”  Weaver said to the beast, obviously understanding what it had said.  The creature barked again, and Silent aided Weaver in carrying my stretcher aboard the ship and laying it out amidships.  The entire vessel weaved and bobbed as we boarded, my stomach weaving and bobbing with it.

“You understand their language?”  I asked Weaver, already knowing the answer, but wanting to make some conversation to take my mind off of the motion of the boat beneath my back.

“Yes, and some of them understand ours as well.  Some few even speak ours, and I can speak theirs, but it is generally easier just to speak in our native tongues.  We are not vocally designed to communicate.  Learning their language is easy enough, but actually speaking it is only possible to those of us with 'the voice,' and even then it is difficult.  They have an equally difficult time mastering our form of speech, but they have sharp minds and can learn to understand us as quickly as we can learn to understand them,” the red-eyed warrior explained, and I thought I heard a note of respect in his voice.

“You hold them in esteem.”  I said, a little surprised.

“Indeed.  They have struggled at the fringes of human civilization all their lives, forced into the most inhospitable places in our world, but they still manage, and have become stronger for it.”  He smiled down at me as the boat lurched out into the water, the Shao Geok who had been waiting for us at the shore line hopping into the craft as it pulled away from the bank.  “If only that humanity was so quick to adapt and strengthen themselves. Instead they spend all their time looking for the easiest ways to live, surrounding themselves in frivolous excess, and seemingly bent upon their destructive course.  The Shao Geok will destroy them all someday, I think, if humanity does not become stronger.”

“That doesn't seem to displease you.”  I probed at Weaver, looking for some further insight into his difficult to read personality.  His crass and obvious distaste of mankind was alarming of itself, but I sensed a greater darkness beneath his words.

“Should it?”  He said, no longer looking at me, but looking out over the turbulent ocean.  The two creatures in the boat with us had each grabbed hold of two long flipper-like paddles that seemed molded to fit their inhuman hands.  Together, they began rowing at the water, using their massive upper body strength to propel the boat in the direction of their choosing at a faster rate than I had thought possible.  “Am I any more different from them than I am from humanity?”  Weaver added after a moment, holding up his clawed hands.

“You are what you make yourself, Weaver.”  I told him, remembering the similar turn of phrase he'd used on me not long before.

He laughed loudly and looked down at me once more.  “I suppose I am.  You've a good head on your neck.  Let us hope you can keep it there.” Weaver walked to the edge of the boat and looked out over the sea, and after a short time Silent came to sit beside me.

“How are you healing?”  He asked of me, his normal ready smile on his face.

“Well enough, but I don't fancy being carried around,” I answered, returning his smile with one of my own.  I could almost believe things hadn't changed between us, if I really tried.

“It's about an hour by boat to the island, and Weaver thinks by then you should be ready to start walking.  I'll warn you, at first those legs are going to be weak, and you'll have to work on finding your balance all over again.  It'll come faster than it did in training, a lot faster, but those first few weeks will be rough.”  He said, sharing his own experiences for my benefit.  I could feel the strength in my legs, and it was building fast.  I suspected that if I were to get to my feet at that moment, I could run until the sun faded from the sky for the last time.  In fact, there was so much energy and power in my body that I was hard pressed to remain still.

“I will keep that in mind,” I told him, and it wasn't an outright lie.  I knew that the advice about the balance, at least, would come in handy when I began to use my new legs for the first time.  “Silent, do these new limbs change anything else about my body?  I've been feeling...”  I thought about it for a moment.  I wasn't sure how to phrase the changes I'd felt inside of me.  I knew the arms and legs were completely new, but to me it felt like my entire bone structure had become denser, and that my heart pumped with a stronger rhythm.

“Like your bones are made of steel?”  He said, a grin spreading across his face.  “It's like with the eyes, you take a piece into your body, and you gain the functionality of that piece, but your body makes changes to accommodate the new pieces.”  He tried to explain, but when he saw the blank expression on my face he went on.  “What good would those new arms do you, if when you fully extended the muscle in them they tore free from your shoulder socket?”

“Ahh, I see.  So the new pieces are making sure my body is fit to handle them,” I said, thinking I had the connection figured out.

“In a way,” Silent answered, a thoughtful expression on his face, and I guessed that I didn't have it after all.  “It's actually the eyes though, that facilitate the changes you're experiencing.  They have already changed your anatomy, and as you add parts, they allow you to incorporate them into your body's chemistry, making the physical changes necessary for you to function in your new state, but you must form a bond before taking in a new part or your eyes will not be able to adjust your body to the new pieces.”

I nodded, thinking back on my fight with the fell beast, and the subsequent attaching of its limbs to my body.  “The blood bond?”  I asked.

“Yes, that is the most common way to form a bond.  The combat, the mutual injuring, they start the process, and then it is completed with the physical attachment of the new parts.  It's a strong magic, and all strong magic requires a great sacrifice.  If you really want to know more, though, you should talk to Luc... to Weaver.  He knows far more than anyone else on the subject.”

I caught his near slip, but pointedly ignored it.  Weaver's identity was no longer a secret to me anyway.  I wouldn't bother to cause trouble for Silent by calling him out on it.  “I will have to make a point of talking to him about it,” I told my travel companion.

“There will be plenty of time to talk once we reach the island,” Weaver said from where he stood, a few feet away.  With the sound of the ocean, and the paddling of the two Shao Geok, I'd have thought he wouldn't have heard Silent and me speaking, but I should have known that with his keen ears, so much like mine, he would have no trouble following our conversation.  “Once we are there, I'm sure there will be a great many questions you would like answered, and I will see to as many as possible.”

That was the first time information had been offered to me, and I felt I might have been better off without it.  I laid my head back down, looking up at the sky that seemed to crest and sway with the motion of the sea.  I could feel my body making more adjustments to my new arms, legs, and ears.  I could also feel it adjusting itself to the pitch and sway of the boat.  I had become keenly aware of the changes going on within me, and it was a peculiar sensation, feeling one's body change.  I flexed a hand and felt it respond perfectly to my command of motion.  I could feel every weave of the fabric used to create the stretcher I was on brushing against my fingertips, and was acutely aware that the claws on that hand would sharpen, at my willing, into blades fine enough to render the fabric into shreds.  I don't know where the knowledge came from. It was simply there, as a person might know that if they turn their ear in the direction of a sound, they could hear said sound more clearly.  I didn't need to be taught, I was just aware.  I wondered if it was the same for all the Knights of Ethan.

My travel companions fell silent, and it seemed for a time that the only sounds in the world were the splash of the Shao Geok oarsmen and the lapping of the ocean against the side of the wood craft as it cut through the water towards its destination.  I stared into the sky, and it stared back into me.  I had the feeling that so many of my questions would soon be answered, but I feared what those answers might entail.  I wished, not for the first time, that I could be back at Fell Rock with Kye, talking and enjoying her company.  In the short time we'd had together, she'd always known how to make me feel better.  The world had always seemed right with her.  It was strange that Fell Rock had become a place of my fondest, and yet also my most loathed memories.  It was stranger still that both those sets of memories, good and ill, had all happened within a single year of my life.  A single year ago I was a completely different person, one less wise in the world.

I must have been lost in thought for a while, because it seemed only a short time later that I was jarred roughly back into my surroundings by our craft striking the shore of our destination.  Before I knew what was happening, Weaver was at my side, leaning down to look at me.

“Do you think you're ready to walk?”  He asked, and I replied with a nod of my head.  I was quite ready to walk.  “Alright, but we need to take it easy.”  He reached a hand out to me, which I reached out to take with one of my own.  I gripped his hand firmly, but not as firmly as I could have, had I really wanted to.  I didn't want Weaver to know exactly how well adapted I was to my new body parts.  I allowed a slight tremor into my hand as I pulled myself, in a way I hoped wasn't overly theatrical, to my feet.  As I came up to my full height, one that was at least six or seven inches higher than it had been before my acquisition of stronger, longer legs, I almost lost my balance and stumbled.  It was only a momentary thing, my body quickly adjusting itself to the changes, but it was enough to convince Lucidil that I was, indeed, still in the process of healing.  He immediately stepped over and put my arm around his shoulder, urging Silent to do the same on the other side of me.  I didn't tell him that, after the initial reorientation, I felt fine on my legs, indeed I was eager to stretch them and see what I could do with all the raw power I felt inside them.  Instead of bursting free and seeing just how far and fast I could run, however, I let my weight lay on Lucidil's shoulders as he and Silent proceeded to help me off the boat.  As I cleared the craft, I got my first real look at the island we'd landed on.

The wind was blowing hard and fast across its rocky surface, whistling against the skeletal remains of trees that seemed to have died of no other cause than simple atrophy.  The sandy shore ended abruptly maybe ten feet from where the sea washed against its banks, to be replaced by rough grass growing sparsely amidst jagged rock outcroppings.  It was all mostly covered by a sheet of ragged snow and ice.  The most notable attribute of the island was a tall, jagged mountain that reeked of sulfur rising high into the frozen sky some distance away.  The whole area seemed gloomy and dank.  The island itself, though, was not the most impressive thing that caught my eye.  As we disembarked I found myself at the edge of a massive war camp.  A hundred feet from shore, thousands of tents were spread about, housing all manner of different creature.  I saw Shao Geok, members of Kye's people, the Uliona, some few humans, and cloaked figures that appeared to be Knights of Ethan, among others I couldn't recognize at all.  I was immediately stunned by the scope of what lay before me.  Had I believed Lucidil when he told me that he was taking me to a meeting place where I would find other Knights of Ethan, I would no longer hold any such disillusions.  Though there were Knights about, or those that looked like them, the camp I was in was obviously not a camp of the king's men.  His colors were nowhere to be seen.

Two figures approached us, both dressed in shifting cloaks, though only one in the newer cloaks that Silent, Lucidil, and myself were wearing.  As they drew near, the figure in the newer cloak dropped her face mask, exposing a serene feminine face that immediately put me in mind of Kye, causing a pain of loss to surge through me.  Her eyes were those of a Knight of Ethan, only colored a brilliant blue.  My first inclination was to believe that she was like Weaver and me, but I realized quite quickly that she was a pure Uliona, and it was that strangeness about her that had so reminded me of my lost love.  When she raised her arm in salute to Weaver, however, she had the scaled arms of a Knight.  Her hair was just over shoulder length long and tied loosely back in two white-blond tails.  After offering her salute, she quickly abandoned any sense of formality and ran to Weaver, throwing her arms about him and pressing her lips hungrily to his.  He returned her passionate embrace, leaving my weight to fall upon Silent in the process.  Silent held me easily, however, his strength more than equal to my added weight, though it was difficult for me to simply fall into him as though I couldn't keep my legs beneath me, when my natural inclination was simply to straighten my legs and walk.  I looked on in surprise, not sure what to make of Weaver and his female companion.  After a time, they separated, and Weaver made introductions.

“Lowin,” He gestured toward the girl.  “This is Ferocity, though she generally goes by Fero.  My love,” he said, then addressing the girl he identified as Fero, “this is the boy we went to find, Lowin Fenly.”

She flashed, activating her speed, and my eyes adjusted instantly, making it seem as though she was only walking quickly in my direction, rather than moving faster than the average eye could follow.  She stepped before me and resumed normal speed, moving her face to within inches of mine, her brilliant blue eyes locked on me.

“Oh, they're so pretty!”  She exclaimed loudly, before grabbing at one of my hands and picking it up to examine it.  “And the fur, I've never seen markings like these!”  Her free hand brushed back my hood, and she tweaked the tip of one of my ears with a delighted giggle.  “These are great.”

Weaver laughed.  “Yes, our friend Lowin is something special.  Fero here,” he indicated the woman still excitedly examining the red stripes on my wrists and ears.  “Is a natural ascendant.  She is one of only two such cases.”

“Natural ascendant?”  I asked, feeling stupid.

“It means I am an Uliona who was able to rise to the status of Knight of Ethan,” Fero chirped in, finally releasing my hand and stepping back.

“I see,” I said, though I didn't exactly understand.  I had heard of such situations before, but there exact nature was a mystery to me.

The other hooded figure moved forward now, taking down his hood and mask as he approached.  I didn't recognize him, but when he smiled he had the jagged, evil-looking teeth I'd first seen on Tempest.  His smile never quite reached his eyes cold, black eyes.  He extended his hand, and I took it in my own.  His hand shake was crushing, obviously intentionally meant to hurt me, though it did not.  I let it appear that it had, withdrawing my hand quickly when he deemed to release my palm, and shaking it as though injured.

“I am Brutal,” he said simply.  “We've heard so much about the great Lowin Fenly.  I'm sure you won't disappoint us," he finished, and the tone of his voice let me know that he believed nothing of what he'd heard, and that he'd already decided I wasn't worth my weight in dirt.  Brutal was easy to dislike and I found that I already did.

“Silent,” Weaver's voice slipped into one of command.  “Bring Lowin to my tent. I'll be with you both in a minute.  I need to be updated on field conditions and issue new orders.”

Silent nodded his reply and began to lead me through the crowd of strange people to the place where Weaver's tent stood, a large impressive construction by any standards.  There were two guards at the entrance, both Shao Geok, who stood down as Silent carried me by them without a word.  The inside of the tent housed a portable table, a separate area for sleeping with heavy curtains that could be let down for privacy, and several small, portable chairs.  As we entered, Silent grabbed one of these with his free hand and pulled it into position for me to sit in.  I sat down, again feigning difficulty with my new legs.

Silent took a seat at my side, pointedly not making eye contact with me.  It was obvious to anyone with even the slightest good sense that the camp we had entered was not the camp of the recovered Knights of Ethan from Fell Rock.  I knew it, truthfully had known we were traveling to no such location for some time, and I had a strong feeling that Silent was well aware that I knew the truth of the matter.  Alone within the tent, it would have been easy to prod Silent for more information, but it would have only caused him discomfort and I doubted there was anything he knew that Lucidil would not tell me himself in short order.  Now that he had me firmly in his camp, with no chance of me escaping amidst the masses of his followers, he no longer had any need to deceive me.

We only had to wait a short time, though it was a short time spent in an uncomfortable silence, before Lucidil walked through the opening flap of his tent, Fero in tow.  To my relief, Brutal was nowhere to be seen.  I didn't relish having to spend more time with that particular member of Weaver's army.  Fero pulled up a seat on Silent's other side while Weaver walked around the table, and sat down opposite us, casting back his hood to reveal his scraggly black hair.  There was a smile on his face that made his eyes dance like fire.

“First of all,” he began, “let us dispense with the deceptions in which we have been indulging.  To begin, I will tell you what I know that you've already discovered, Lowin.”  He said, his smile never fading.  “This camp is not a meeting place for the Knights of Ethaniel who escaped from the battle at Fell Rock, and I am not, technically, a member of that order of Knights, nor do I serve the king in any form.”  His bluntness surprised me.  As he'd stated, he wasn't saying anything I didn't already know, but I had hardly expected him to be so forthright about it.  “Now, we shall shed light on your dark little secrets so that we might come to the table with an open understanding.  You are almost completely healed, and judging from the way your muscles reacted and moved while I was holding your weight when I helped you in and out of the boat, you are also surprisingly well adapted to your new body.  You have suspected I was not what I presented myself to be for some time, but you are not sure what to make of me.  You know my real name, Lucidil, and suspect that I am the same person who first made the cloaks that all Knights wear as standard uniform. You are correct in that suspicion.”

I was more than passingly surprised that he knew my secrets.  I was so startled, in fact, that a strong impulse to flee had momentarily risen up within me.  I suppressed it, knowing that such a move would be pointless, but I suddenly found myself stripped of all advantages.  With his army around us, Weaver was now completely in control of our interaction and there was nothing I could do to change that.  I sat up in my chair, straightening myself, casting off my adopted posture of lameness.  Silent, at least, looked surprised at my sudden miraculous recovery.  If I could have nothing else, I would at least sit tall and proud.

“Fair enough,” I said, deciding the best thing I could do was tumble with events as they progressed.  It was hardly a preferable way to handle the situation, but Weaver had pushed me into a corner.  “Now that we've gotten that out of the way, would you care to tell me why you've brought me here, and what you intend to do with me now that you have?”

“Indeed,” Lucidil said, standing up from his desk.  “Let me give you the short answer first, and then I will explain it further.  I've brought you here because you are strong, and are going to become much stronger.  That makes you an asset to whoever you side with, and I either needed to have you under my control, or needed to see that you were not an asset for the other side.  If you will join with me, I intend for you to become a leader among my forces, Lowin.”  There was sincerity in his voice that was both chilling and flattering at the same time.  He would use me, or kill me, it seemed.  Lucidil was a man of extremes, never happy with the middle ground.

“I don't expect you to want to serve me based solely on that, though, so now let me explain what exactly we stand for, Lowin, because I believe that you can sympathize with us more than any other.”  His voice took on a softer tone, and I could tell that he was about to speak of something that would be very difficult for him.

“It began when I was little younger than you are now, Lowin.  I was training to become a knight under a brilliant and noble man, Sir Ethaniel of Legend's Cross.  He fought like the devil and believed in the pride of our kingdom. I believed with him.  Seeing him stand up for his beliefs, seeing him put his life on the line for a cause that he believed was right, was the most profoundly shaping influence on my life.  He was, and is, a shining star of valiant hope.

“Such was Ethaniel's prowess on the battlefield, that when our neighbors, the Uliona, called for our assistance, the king immediately sent Sir Ethaniel, myself, and a regiment of men to aid in their time of need. The Uliona's other neighbors, distant relations to their own line of blood, the Kizekin, had become jealous of the prosperity of their more civilized cousins. Rather than attempting to build a peaceful bond with their estranged kin, they decided they would attack and take what they felt was rightfully theirs.  The Uliona were mostly peaceful, and were not ready to handle such an attack, so they sought our aid.  Our knights went north to join them, to shape their willing bodies into warriors, and to help them cast out their tyrannical enemies.  It was in that war that Ethaniel met a man named Tyell, a native Uliona, and a man that would later become like a brother to Ethaniel.  Tyell was a fierce warrior, and a stout-hearted supporter of the bond between human kind, and the Uliona.  That war was also to be the place that I met Reilai, another native Uliona, and one that would become my entire world.

“We fought side by side with the Uliona for years, and eventually I ascended to become a full knight, though at that time we were all simply king's knights, as there was no Knights of Ethaniel or anything of that ilk.  Ethaniel lent his sword arm to the cause, together with his brother in soul, Tyell, and though I put forth my arm as well, I found my forte in another task.  My family comes from a long line of magicians, and I had carried some of that lore with me through my life.  For that reason I was tasked with working on magical research that would benefit the kingdom.

“At the time, I was in the process of developing a cloth that could be used to camouflage our military forces, giving them an edge over the enemy on the battlefield.  I had first gotten the idea while observing a creature called a ghost drake that lived in the lands of the Uliona.  It was a large, dangerous lizard that could shift the color of its skin to match its surroundings.  This effect seemed to happen quite of its own accord, without the creature's direct intent.  Initially, we had thought to simply skin the creature and use its hide.  The problem was, when the drake was caught and skinned, its hide no longer retained its magical color shifting properties.  I was tasked with finding a way to keep the skin active and make it more pliable, since it was as hard as metal in its natural state.  The research was complicated enough that I spent most of my time not fighting on the battlefield, but struggling in a research center provided by the Uliona.

“I am thankful for that, though, because otherwise I would never have met Reilai.  She was sent to me as an assistant in my work, since she was known to be very powerful among her people. Together we spent countless hours working on the fabric that eventually became the cloaks you see most Knights of Ethaniel wearing.  I can't say exactly when it happened, but one day, while we were working, I suddenly found that I had grown to love the burning-eyed lab assistant I'd been working with for so long.  She was beautiful, intelligent, and had such a spark of life about her that I couldn't help but feel for her.  I was far too shy and inexperienced in the ways of the world to tell her any such thing, but I knew it every time I looked at her.  I was still working up the nerve to say something to her when tragedy struck our cause.  Ethaniel was gravely wounded in battle, and we were both called back to our own kingdom, him to heal, and me, as his most trusted human friend, to take care of him until he was well enough to take care of himself.  I did not regret my duty, but at the same time I did not want to leave behind the woman I had grown to love.

“On the night I was to leave, I went to her, and told her of my feelings, pouring out my heart as I had never done before.  To my surprise and amazement, she told me that she felt the same about me, but had been afraid to tell me and possibly ruin our work together.  I promised her that I would come back as soon as I was able, and she promised me that she would await my return.  I left with a light heart, despite the troubles of the world.

“The attack on the Uliona by the Kizekin was, by that time, finally coming to a bloody end.  The Uliona's violent cousins had spent all the lives they were willing to spend and were retreating back across their own borders.  Ethaniel and I returned to our homeland before the end of the war, but not long before.

“His wounds though, were not healing properly.  Ethaniel had lost his left eye in the battle, and had suffered a vicious wound to his gut that the medics suspected was still seeping within him, killing him slowly despite their best efforts.  Ethan was one of my dearest friends, and it destroyed me to watch him dying so painfully from day to day.  He never once cried out for help, and he always put on a brave face when others were around, but we all knew his time was growing shorter.  This went on for nearly a month before he was no longer able to rise from his bed and we all feared the worst.  That was when Tyell came from the Uliona homeland, a final desperate plan in mind to save his human brother.

“The Uliona are possessed of a remarkable ability to heal themselves if they are injured and are able to fall asleep.  The effect is not as potent as that of the Knights of Ethaniel in this day and age, but it is far more potent than human healing.  Tyell explained that the center of the Uliona power lay in their eyes, and that it should be possible to transfer part of that power by transferring one of their very own eyes into Ethaniel's body.  Tyell, of course, had volunteered himself, but there were a few obstacles.  Foremost, the receiver and the donor must be of compatible energies or there was no hope at all for the transferred eye to take hold in the new body.  This was easily tested, and the birth of the testing crystals that all humans are familiar with came to pass.  The next problem was that a bond, magically facilitated by the crystal test, must be established to create a 'nest,' so to speak, for the eye to take seed in.  This would take time, and in Ethaniel's case, time was limited.  The final obstacle was that both parties must be fully aware during the process of transfer, as the Uliona eye, the center of their power, was very sensitive to the conscious state of its host.  Transferring the eye while the original party was unconscious would likely result in an eye that would be inactive at the time of transfer, and would likely never reactivate; while if the new host was unconscious, the eye would start to attach physically without establishing a connection to the consciousness of the new host, leaving the new host without any of the benefits of the new eye.  That meant that Ethaniel, already weakened, would have to remain conscious during the process of having the new eye implanted.  Of course, he had the benefit of already having a place for the new eye to sit.

“Tyell tested himself and Ethaniel for compatibility, and found that they were indeed compatible.  Against the protestations of Ethaniel, who felt that his time was done and that he should be allowed to die, the magical binding was started, though at the time they did not know that the process was irreversible once the crystal testing was done.  Ethaniel, who they feared would not survive long enough to receive the new eye, started to become stronger over the course of the six months that it took for the bonding to reach a point where the transfer could be carried out, proof that the bonding process was indeed working.  Ethaniel and Tyell went under the knife, a terrifying process that I'm sure you're only too aware of, Lowin.  Within a week the process was considered a success.  Ethaniel's wounds were healing up remarkably fast, and he was even able to see through the new eye, though he complained of difficulties with blurring and streaking in his vision.  Alarmingly, Tyell's brilliant blue eye, once transferred to Ethaniel, lost almost all of its color and turned the all too familiar black we see amongst the Knights these days.  It did retain some blue though, a lingering sign of the depth of the connection between Ethaniel and Tyell.”  Lucidil gave us all a knowing look before continuing his story.

“There was, however, an unanticipated problem.  Tyell was dying.  He was growing weaker and weaker while Ethaniel was growing stronger and stronger.  Ethaniel was heartbroken, and would not leave his friend's side.  Any time Tyell would falter in his belief that he would get better, Ethaniel would encourage him, unwilling to let the man die without a fight. However, it eventually became clear that Tyell would not recover.  Before he died, Tyell demanded that Ethaniel take his other eye, so that he might receive the full benefit from the transfer.  Ethan did not want to, but the recently healed knight would not deny his friend anything within his power to grant, and so he took the other eye, going under the knife a second time.  The result was an amazing success for the knight, and an all too predictable end for his Uliona brother.  Ethaniel, though greatly troubled by the source of his power, became immensely more potent for the loss of his friend.

“Time passed, and Ethaniel's fame spread.  He was faster and stronger than any knight to come before him, and was only growing more powerful with time.  I must admit that I cared little about his progression through the ranks because I wanted only one thing, and that was to return to the Uliona to be with Reilai.  As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long to get my wish.  The Uliona were falling into war again, and this time the Kizekin were coming at them with everything they had.  The still primarily peaceful Uliona were losing quickly, despite now having a standing army that Ethaniel and I had helped to build the last time we had been there.  We should have been dispatched immediately to help our friends.  However, the situation had changed for humanity.

“Our king had seen the progress of Ethaniel and been mightily impressed by the rise of the incredible Knight.  His head was filled with visions of legions of unstoppable Knights, quick to heal, and deadly fast with a blade.  He crafted a scheme that would see the creation of his vision, and the realization of his ambition for an unbeatable army.  When the Uliona came to the king for help, he refused to give them aid.

“Distraught by our king's refusal, the Uliona were about to return home in shame when the king offered them an ultimatum.  He told them that he would send help, indeed, he would send a permanent border guard to remain vigilant and protective over their border with the Kizekin, if they would agree to sign a magically binding pact that would force them to give their most powerful magically tuned people to the humans to be used to build more knights like the knight Ethaniel.  At first the Uliona refused, disgusted that the human king would ask for something so terrible from them, but within a month they collapsed beneath the pressures of the encroaching forces and signed the blood pact with the king of the humans, forever binding the Uliona to offer their greatest for sacrifice to the order that would be known as the Knights of Ethan, or the Knights of Ethaniel.  The king promised that in return the Uliona would never need fear for their borders again, and in so far as that was concerned, he has been true to his word.

“Crystal testing began en mass, and it started with those of us who had already been raised to knighthood.  I was tested just before leaving to fight on the Uliona border, and I remember not caring about the test at all.  I merely wanted to rejoin my love, and do what needed to be done to ensure that we would have a place to start a life together.  Indeed, I intended to leave the order of the Knights forever once the war was through.  I cared little for what crystal changed what color, as I had been told beforehand that the chance of being matched to an Uliona to become a creature like Ethaniel was almost non-existent.  At the time I did not have any feelings for this new practice the king had begun one way or the other.  To me, it was all politics, and of no interest.  That changed quickly enough.

“When I returned to the land of the Uliona, Ethaniel and the others immediately went to the front line to begin pushing back the invaders, but I was brought back to my place of research, where things had progressed slowly without my aid.   I was so eager to return to my work there, that I could barely contain myself, and sure enough, when I got there, Reilai was already hard at work on setting up my equipment. The work was close to a breakthrough, and we both knew it, along with the other researchers who were happy to have me back.  As such, Reilai and I put our personal feelings for each other aside for a time, and threw ourselves into our work.  I cannot tell you how much I regret that now.  I should have spent more time with her.  I only ever even kissed her once.... Months passed, battles raged, and one day a messenger came to my office, asking me to report to Ethaniel as soon as possible.

“I had not seen him in a long time, and when I did I was more than shocked to see that he had changed incredibly.  He had the arms and legs of a Fell Beast grafted to his body, as well as the ears.  I hadn't known such a thing was possible, but Ethaniel quickly explained that the Uliona and humans involved in perfecting the eye transferring process had determined that such things would be possible as long as the donor and host of the eyes were both strong.  He quickly dismissed talk of his new limbs though, and looked at me with such pain in his eyes that I knew something terrible was coming next.  Ethaniel has ever been soft at heart.  I didn't want him to say what he was going to say, and I didn't even yet know what it was he had to say.  He told me, then, that I had been chosen to be the second of his Knights.  I felt a mix of terror and wonder at the thought.  Certainly Ethaniel was impressive, but I did not want to kill one of the Uliona for such benefits.  I told him as much, but he just shook his head and told me that I must do what was necessary to preserve the kingdom.  I don't know if he knew the truth of how I felt about Reilai, I don't think I'd ever told him, but he still did not tell me who it was that I was bound to.  To be fair, I believe he thought she was just a friend of mine.  He escorted me to the medical pavilion where the procedure was to be carried out.

“I asked him why I hadn't had to go through a bonding procedure. He told me that the procedure was already done, and that I was to have the physical part done immediately so that I could begin recovery.”  Lucidil's voice faltered.  He paused for a moment.

“As I made my way to the medical pavilion with Ethaniel I remember feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Once inside, I lay down on a table so that they could fasten me down securely.  Ethaniel never left my side.  Only after I had been fastened down did they bring in Reilai.  In my foolish ignorance I told them to take her away, that she should not see what was about to happen.  Can you believe that I said that?  ...That I was so naïve I believed they had simply brought here there to observe for research?  It was only after they began strapping her to the table next to mine that I realized what was happening.   She died screaming my name.  She must have known the entire time what was to happen, but she was bound by the pact to not speak of it.  Every day must have been so terrible for her...”  He paused, and I felt tears rolling down my cheeks and realized that I was crying.  His experience held so much of my own that I couldn't help but think of Kye.  Fero got up from her seat and walked across the tent to stand next to Weaver, who had turned away for a moment.  Finally, he seemed to gather himself together and turned back to face those of us in the tent.

“I resumed my work on the cloaks as soon as I was able to see again, trying desperately to shut out what had happened in that medical tent, but it would not leave me.  I finished my work on the cloak, and drew up the reports on the processes involved in its creation.  After that I was expected to be out on the front line, fighting, and that is what I did.  I fell into battle, killing and killing, and when I finished that, I killed some more, because that seemed to be the only purpose I'd been bred for.  Ethaniel and I were the only two of our kind at that time.  At first everyone respected us, but after a time, after the bodies began to pile up behind us, humans and Uliona alike began to fear us.  The Uliona, I think, with good reason.  After all, we stare at them with the dead eyes of their own kind.

“One day I took Ethaniel aside and I asked him how he could fight on, knowing where our power had come from, and he looked me straight in the eyes, his blue-black eyes meeting my fiery red ones, and told me that we were fighting for a better world in which no one knew the word 'war.'  His eyes lied, though.  He wanted to believe the words he spoke, that I could tell, but I could see that on some level he held no faith in them.  I didn't believe it anymore either.  Reilai was dead, and the world was not going to get any better with our king intent on killing so that he might create greater weapons.  In time, the war against the Kizekin ended, and Ethaniel and I returned to our home kingdom, heroes of countless battles.

“When we returned, the king dubbed us both heroes of the realm, and officially recognized the material I'd made, naming it after myself, and commissioning a cloak of the Lucidil material to be made for each Knight to ascend to the Knights of Ethan.  It was at that point that Ethaniel began calling me 'Weaver,' in honor of the cloth I had created.  That also began the tradition of giving the Knights of Ethan a name based on a trait associated with them.  Only Ethaniel himself ever escaped that particular tradition.  Despite being a hero, and well respected within the kingdom, a great unrest built within me.

“Fifty years passed.  Fifty years of obeying orders, killing who I was told to kill, and doing what I was told to do.  The knights of Ethaniel were expanding.  There were nearly thirty of us at that point.  Suddenly, I found myself scheduled to stand in attendance at the transfer ceremony of one of our newest members.  I had never attended such a ceremony before, not since my own.  In fact, I had avoided even hearing about them as much as possible, but Ethan had been to all of them.  I believe he was attempting to punish himself for being at the head of our damned Order.  Anyway, Ethaniel was not able to attend this particular occasion, and so I had been offered as a substitute to fill his place, and lend honor to the events.  They had ritualized the whole thing, making a special room for the process, and standing around like a great and sacred Order about some important business.  I was immediately disgusted.  When the cutting began, and screaming filled the air, I found all my terrible memories rushing back into me.  I had tried so hard to forget everything, but there it all was again, pictures carried on the tide of screams, smashing through my mind with the ferocity of a sharp arrow launched from a powerful crossbow.  I realized in that moment that I hated everything about what we had become, the Knights, Ethaniel, humanity, myself, and that the only way I would ever be able to live with myself, was if I simply walked away from it all.  So I did.  I left immediately after the ceremony.  I just started walking, and didn't stop until I was as far away from the Knights of Ethaniel and their corrupt king as I could get myself.

“When I first left, I didn't have a revolution in mind.  I was simply a man who knew that he couldn't be a part of what was going on around him any longer.  In time though, I made new connections and began to realize that by doing nothing, I was enabling more and more repetitions of what had happened to me, and so I began to do what I should have done from the beginning.  With all the time that had passed, my task was more difficult than ever.  The Knights of Ethaniel were constantly expanding and growing more powerful. The king's mundane armies were growing in size as well.  I worked from the shadows, forming alliances wherever they were available, building up the army you see in this camp now.  I've forged treaties with the Shao Geok and rogue peoples of the Uliona.  I've also pulled to my side member of the Knights of Ethan that wish to stop the great evils of the king.  There are twenty-six such Knights in our army.  Barely an eighth of the number still commanded by the king, but some of the finest warriors serve on our side, Lowin.  In you, though, we see a great hope.  You have the potential to be the very best of us, and with you on our side we could finally put an end to the king's pact with the Uliona, and an end to this corrupt kingdom of humanity.”

To say that Weaver's story was shocking would have been an understatement.  Though we'd lived in distinctly different times, the parallels between our lives were hard to miss.  I couldn't help but look at the red-eyed warrior in a new light, and wonder if he was what I would have become if given so many years to build the bitterness that was already festering in my heart.  Would I become something worse than he?  There was no way for me to know for certain, but the connection between Lucidil and myself was undeniable.  There were still many questions, however, and I intended to have them answered.  I had gone too long with too little information.  I would ask my questions and see what answers there were to find.  As for the proposition laid before me, the offer of a place of honor in Lucidil's army, I suspected there was more to what the red-eyed devil wanted than merely to have me as an officer under his command.  That, too, I would have from him in good time.

“You were responsible for the attack on Fell Rock my last night there, and for the presence of that creature, the Lantern Eye, were you not?”  I began my search for answers.

“The first part of that question is simple.  Yes, I was responsible for the attack on Fell Rock that night.  It was our first major push against the king's forces, and it was undeniably successful.  We struck fast and true, lost very few of our own men and destroyed many powerful enemies.  We also managed our secondary objective, which was to secure you,” Lucidil responded with cool composure.  I had to bite back my anger at his dispassionate explanation of his attack on Fell Rock.  “As for the Lantern Eye, that was another matter entirely.  While I am technically responsible for it being there, I did not know it would be there, nor did it fight on my behalf, but instead killed indiscriminately, destroying parts of my forces along with those of the king.  Would you like me to explain?”

I answered the fallen Knight with my silence, and he went on, unperturbed, “It would have been impossible for us to move a sizable military force across land to Fell Rock without attracting notice and negating our only true advantage in an attack of such a nature.  Instead of marching our forces day and night for weeks, and arriving exhausted to battle a foe with superior numbers, we decided to establish a traveler’s rift.  A traveler’s rift is an ancient magic that has been abandoned, indeed forbidden in most lands, for hundreds of years, but it allows, through long and arduous preparation that spans years, for two points great distances apart to be connected by one short passageway that any number of people can walk through.  The trick is that both sides of the rift, the exit and the entrance, if you like, must be prepared in unison.   This meant that we had to have forces stationed here to perform the proper rituals at the proper times, so that the gateway would open.  However, as is true of all powerful magic, there is always some cost to the energy needed for such a manifestation.  The cost of a traveler’s rift comes in three parts.  The first part: four years of groundwork must be set upon the earth that will host the exit and entrance to the gate.  The earth must be treated with rare salts and difficult to find herbs, to prepare it to maintain the energies involved with supporting a stable traveler's rift.  The second part: blood must be paid, for it is the most potent host of magical energies.  The third part, and the one that most prevents these gates from being used; for every man who goes through, a fraction of his mass's energy is given to the aether that composes the traveler’s rift, and when enough of that energy is stored, some monster from the aether is able to tear free from nothingness and tread upon our world.  That is where the Lantern Eye came from.  Thankfully those beasts do not dwell naturally in our world.  When the battle was done, my men returned through the rift and closed it in their wake.  ...All of my men but Silent and myself.   I left Silent to gather information on how effective our attack had been, and I carried you away with the intent of seeing that you received some necessary training before reaching this place.”

I was lost somewhere between shock and rage at his explanation.  Not only did he admit to having waged war against the Knights, and possibly killing the last person in the world I honestly trusted, but he had also used a forbidden magic that brought forth a terrible monstrosity.  He seemed not at all troubled for his revelations.  “What became of the monster?”  I asked him, trying to maintain my calm.  I thought, for a moment, to ask if he knew the names of any of the survivors from Fell Rock, but I didn't want him to suspect that I had formed any serious bonds with other Knights.

Weaver shrugged.  “Silent and I killed the Lantern Eye before it could kill you.  As I said, the creature was a menace to everyone, and I could not allow it to continue its rampage.  They are powerful flesh eaters, massive and unendingly hungry.  Their eyes burn with yellow fire that slowly turns green as it consumes, and when those eyes shine like twin emeralds, the creature splits into two beasts, spreading like an all-consuming fire.  Had we left it alive, it probably would have seen that there were no survivors left at Fell Rock, but who knows what chaos would have followed.  Next question?”

“How can you justify killing the Knights of Ethan, knowing that they are just men and women fighting for a cause they believe in?”  It was one of the questions that most ate at me whenever I thought of the red-eyed warrior's chosen path.  He had chosen to oppose the king of men, but that path forced him to kill his own, the Knights of Ethan, and I didn't understand how he could be so cold about such a terrible act.

“This is a war, Lowin.  Noble thoughts do not win wars.  Men and women willing to put their lives on the line win wars.  When I chose my course, I knew that I would have to fight the Knights of Ethan, but I did it still, and will continue to, so that others do not have to suffer the way we have, the way Reilai and Kyeia have.”  There was a driving conviction in the way he explained things that was hard to find fault in.  He really believed he was doing what was best.  I wondered if Kye and Reilai would believe in what he was doing.  I didn't know Reilai, but I didn't believe that Kyeia would endorse such a cold blooded pursuit of any goal, no matter how idealistic.

I decided to ask my next question.  “If you succeed, and the king dies, who will you place in charge of the kingdom of the humans?”  This question, I felt, was an important one.  Was Weaver simply power hungry, looking to place himself on the throne, or did he really believe in his ideals enough to fight for them and hand the kingdom over to someone better suited to rule than he?  Had he even considered things so far?  I knew the fallen Knight to be a fierce and terrible man at times, and I did not wish to see him in a position of ultimate power.  In fact, even in charge of an army such as he was, I feared what damage he might wreak upon the world, what damage he may have already wrought upon the world.

He laughed derisively.  “If I succeed, the human kingdom will be no more.  My allies will each have their portion of it to do as they see fit.  What's more, the pieces I give to them are pieces that belonged to them at one time or another.  I have no intention of taking the throne for myself - or anyone else - merely restoring the world to a time when human greed and hunger for power were not so terrible and widespread.  I will see the king fall, and the Knights of Ethan disbanded, and then I will take no more part in any of it.”

That answer, more than any other, scared me.  He had aligned himself with many different peoples, and I knew little of most of them, but the Shao Geok alone were a brutal and ravenous pack.  Without the king's enforcement of the borders, they would spread quickly and devour any humanity that got in their way.

“So you will let the Shao Geok feast upon the innocent farmers, struggling to make a living at the fringes of the kingdom?  That will not bother you?”  I put the question to him knowing how he would respond before he did.

“Mankind must become stronger, or they must perish.  The king circles his people in protection. It has made them weak and dependent.  The Shao Geok are strong, and they are smart.  Why should they not have back the lands that have been forcefully taken from them over the years, Lowin?  What right did the king have to push them back into these icy, forsaken realms?  I have no intention of facilitating the Shao Geok's spread, but I will not deny them territories they can freely conquer.”  He answered quickly, as he had with all the questions I'd had so far.  He knew his mind, and had thought about the results of his actions thoroughly.

I found myself torn between wanting to believe in his cause and being appalled at the heartless way he seemed to go about it.  I wondered if he hadn't aligned himself with forces far more sinister then those employed by the king, but I did not voice that sentiment.  The Shao Geok were indeed intelligent and strong, but humanity had pushed them back.  By his own reckoning, that proved that they were the stronger people.  Just because the average farmer couldn't stand for himself, and must have the aid of the trained men of the king, did that make him any less entitled to the land he had worked himself to the bone to make fertile and productive?  Weaver had skewed his view of the world to justify the things he would have to do to bring about the changes he saw fit, and that wasn't something I could knowingly support.

“Was Silent working for you the entire time he was at Fell Rock?”  I decided to ask, needing to know how much of Silent's apparent attention to my wellbeing was him, and how much was his duty.  In him, I hoped, there might still be an ally.

Silent hunched lower in his seat, and I had my answer before Weaver even began to speak.  “Silent has been one of mine since just after his awakening to full Knighthood.  When he joined with us, he did so under the understanding that he would be our spy, and that he would not speak a word, unless it was to me, until I gave him permission to do otherwise.  If you're thinking that's how he got his peculiar name, though, you would be mistaken.  Silent is perhaps the best of us at moving about without detection.  He had his name before he even began to work with my motley band.  The pretext for his sudden lapse into voicelessness was that he had failed to bond properly to “the voice” and had been left mute.  Since the paper stating this looked legitimate, Fell Rock accepted it without a thought, and he became my full time spy there.  You would be surprised what is said in front of a person who others believe cannot speak.  Though if you are thinking of blaming him for that initial attack on your life, you would be mistaken.  That attack was based on information from my other spy at Fell Rock, a woman who had been there a considerably longer time, and who was responsible for the construction of the exit to our travelers' rift.”

My heart started beating fast in my chest at this bit of information, as I began to consider the possibility that Malice might have been that other agent.  She had been with Knights of Ethan for a long time, and had as good of a reason to hate them as Weaver and I did.  She too had loved her Bound One.  “Who was the other spy?”  I asked, almost afraid of the answer.  Would it turn out that Malice, too, had been lying to me?

Weaver raised an eyebrow.  “I don't believe you knew her, but if you must know, she is generally called Flawless, named for her defensive style, which is said to be perfect.  She has been with the Knights of Ethan for 300 years and still serves with them, as a spy for me.”

To my surprise, I felt only relief at the unfamiliar name.  Malice may have died at the battle of Fell Rock, but that was uncertain.  What was certain, however, was that she was still the woman I remembered her to be, and not some shadowy illusion of a person I'd thought she was.  For me, at that moment, amidst all the revelations coming to light, that was vitally important.  Until one has experienced a sudden and terrible upheaval of their entire life, it is impossible to understand just how important a single, unchanging point of solidity can be.  For all that everything else was chaos, at least one person I knew was still who I thought they were.  Silent, as it turned out, had always been a spy for Lucidil. That meant he had most likely always been assigned to keep an eye out for me.  Any friendship we might have had, had been an illusion.

There was one more question I had left to ask.  “You wish for me to join forces with you, that, I understand, but what exactly do you want from me, Lucidil?  What is it that you have in mind for me that is so vital that only I can do it?  I do not believe that you merely want me as a high ranking officer with my lack of tactile experience.”  I thought I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from Weaver.

The red-eyed monster smiled for the first time since he'd told his sad story.  “What do you think I want from you, Lowin?  I know you well enough to understand that you believe you've guessed my purpose.  So, what do you think I want from you?”

“You want me to kill the king for you.”  I said, confident that I had guessed his intent, but I was wrong.

The fallen Knight burst into raucous laughter.  “Now why would I want you to do that?  The king is just a human man.  Anyone among the trained warriors here could put a knife in his chest if we could get close enough.  No, it is not the king that I want you to kill, my boy.  I want you to kill Ethaniel.”

I stood up so fast I knocked my chair over.  “What?  You want me to kill the head of the Knights of Ethan?  I don't have half the skills necessary to...”

Weaver's voice cut in over the top of mine.  “...but you will learn them.  You are destined to be stronger than he is, and so it must be you who kills him.”

“Why can't you do this?” I demanded of him, confused at the turn of events and disturbed by just how wrong I had been in my guess at Weaver's intentions.

Lucidil cast his eyes down.  “It is true that I might be strong enough, though it would be a close fight between us. Ethaniel is still the same man he has always been, however, and I cannot look upon him without seeing the friend that he used to be.”  The red-eyed warrior raised his head, and his eyes were glassy, “You are the first, besides myself, strong enough to beat him, and I would have you take that burden from me.  I know that I ask a lot of you, but I have no one else to turn to in this matter.  Ethaniel maintains all of the security for the king, and has for hundreds of years.  Without him it will all fall apart.  I need him dead, and no assassin will be able to do it.  I could lose most of my army trying to lay siege to his keep, and still possibly fail in eliminating that man simply because I do not have the heart to do it.  He is as a brother to me.  You, though, could do what I cannot.  With a small group you could reach him, fight him, and kill him.  It would take weeks, or longer, for the king to repair the disorder that would arise, and that is longer than we need to finish this war.”

“I will not do it, Weaver,” I said firmly, remembering only too well the easy laugh, and easy smile of the Knight, Ethaniel, as I'd seen him in his office that day, early in my training at Fell Rock.  Killing him, I thought, would be somehow worse than killing the king, and to be entirely honest with myself, I wasn't sure I could do either of those things.

Weaver nodded, and a faint smile came to his lips, though his eyes hardened.  “I thought you might say that, noble hearted Lowin, but I am going to call in that favor that you owe me, now.  Do you remember when I had the slave girl freed at Renwalk?”

My face blanched and I nodded.  I remembered Lace quite well, and I also remembered the promise I'd made.

“Well, I am demanding my payment now.  We will help you become good enough to kill Ethaniel, and in return I will not send out my Shao Geok assassins to devour your little slave girl.”  Weaver's tone left no room for negotiation.

I nodded, a great numbness in my chest and the pit of my stomach.  I could not revoke my word even if I wanted to.  I would trade Ethaniel's life for that of Lace, a girl I barely knew, not because it was the right thing to do but because I was bound by my word, and because I felt she had as much right, if not more, than Ethaniel to live.  She was no hero of war, but neither had she ever taken a life.  “So be it,” I said, the words feeling heavy in my mouth.

Weaver's eyes softened and a look almost like sadness touched his expression.  “Then it is done.  So it must be, but let me not be ungrateful.  I have one last secret, Lowin, and though you forced me to call in a favor to get what I needed, I shall still show you favor and give you a piece of information that I only recently received myself.”  He made a summoning gesture with one hand, and I approached him cautiously, my heart a ball of torment over what I had just agreed to do.  “Come nearer.  Let it be, from this day on, that we call you Lowin no more.  You will be Noble, a fool with a heart too big for his chest, but one perhaps we all should envy.   Come closer, Noble.”

I stepped yet nearer, taking my new name numbly, and moving until I was so close to the red-eyed warrior that I could feel his breath upon my face.  I did not feel so noble, then.  I felt like an assassin tasked to kill a member of his own family.  In a moment, though, that mattered not at all to me.  Weaver leaned over so that his mouth was at my ear, and whispered three profound words.

“Kyeia is alive.”

“That can't be possible.”  I said, a mix of shock and anger coursing through my body as I pushed Lucidil away from me.  That he would lie about such a matter was beyond reasoning, an unforgivable act.  “I can't believe that you, of all people, would say such a thing.”  The restraint it took to keep myself from leaping at him and tearing him apart was phenomenal.

His face remained calm.  “I'm not lying, Noble.  Kyeia is alive, and she has been moved to a private villa in the Uliona province of Iol, where she is being studied to determine why she has survived the process that has killed every other of her kind.  I do not yet have a contact within the place, since I only today received this news, so I know only what my spy at Fell Rock was able to tell me; that Kyeia was taken away just hours after the transplanting of her eyes, still alive but unconscious, and has been kept under heavy guard since.”

I staggered back to my chair and sat down heavily, all the strength fleeing from my legs.  Everything in my life had suddenly changed, and I was at a loss for what to make of it.  I knew only one thing for certain, and that was that I had no intention of staying with Weaver if Kye was alive elsewhere.  I would not break my promise to the red-eyed warrior, but neither could I allow Kye to be held as a prisoner to be studied.  I would be unable to do anything else until I knew that she was safe.

“I'm going to get her.”  I said aloud, expecting some form of protest from Weaver, but the red eye warrior merely nodded.

“I would do the same thing in your shoes, my friend.  I will not forbid you this because I do not believe you would be any good to me if I did so, and I ... I can only say that I wish I'd had the same chance myself.  You may go, but I want you to take Silent and Brutal with you.  Brutal can educate you on your new abilities, and train you in swordsmanship.  Silent is a good companion as well, and I feel you already have some companionship with him.  He can get places others cannot, and can gather information in places others would stand no chance,” Weaver said, defying my expectations.

I frowned, “I'll take Silent, but I don't want to travel with Brutal.”

“Brutal is my strongest warrior.  He is the best one to teach you the skills you will need when you face Ethaniel, and there are few better warriors to stand at your side in a fight.”  His tone was taking on an air of command, but I did not intend to back down on this point.

“He will cause nothing but trouble for us.  He is too hostile,” I replied, taking a stand against the will of the commander who would oppose the king.

“You don't even know him, Noble.  Brutal is intelligent and skilled.  He will be an asset to you, and he is going with you.  There will be no more debate on this subject.  He is going, and that is my final word.”  A hint of “the voice” crept into his tones, and though it held no effect on me, I could sense how unmoving Weaver was going to be on this issue.  I would have to cede the point, or risk Weaver revoking his permission entirely.  If I lost his good graces, I would have to escape the island on my own and strike out for a location that I knew nothing about.  I wasn't happy to have the fierce and mean-spirited Brutal along for the trip, but I would have to learn to tolerate him.  If nothing else, I would have opportunity to strengthen my patience.

I nodded.  “If you believe he will be of value to our party, than I shall accept your decision.”  That resolution reached, I was eager to be back on the road again.  I realized that I had no idea how to reach the lands of the Uliona, let alone a single province within them.  As weary as I was of travel, the knowledge that Kye was out there was all I needed to urge me onward.  I felt suddenly alive again with purpose, full with energy as I had not been since discovering that Kye was to die on my behalf.

Lucidil's voice broke my train of thought, “I will arrange transport for you in the morning.  You can leave with the dawn tide off the east side of the island.  We have supply ships that come in on a daily basis, and one of them should be able to take you as far as the Uliona port city of Werin.  It will be a two or three day trip by sea, maybe longer with the winter winds being what they are, but it will be far quicker than traveling by foot.  I'm afraid getting any further into the Uliona territory, however, will have to be done on the ground.  Werin is the only Uliona city with open ports, and you would definitely be stopped for questioning at a closed port.  If the king's men find Knights of Ethan aground without orders, it could raise suspicions and make your journey far more hazardous.  Uliona is, after all, considered a territory of the human kingdom, and those who have attained the rank of Knight are either still in service to the king, or fallen Knights and enemies of the crown.  There is no in between for us.  From Werin it is a week's walk by foot to Iol province. From there I do not know how much further to the villa in which Kyeia is reported to be housed.  I did not get precise details from my spy, but I shall have maps drawn up for you, detailing what we do know.”

“Thank you, Weaver,” I said, the sentiment at least mostly genuine.  He could have made things much more difficult for me, or even outright refused to give me permission to go and get Kye.  It wouldn't have made any difference to me if he had.  In my mind there was only one thing I could do given the situation, and that was to find where the king's men were keeping Kye and rescue her.  I thought that it was likely Lucidil knew that, and that was why he was allowing me to do what I would have done anyway.

The red-eyed warrior simply shrugged, and put his arm around Fero's shoulders.  “Sometimes there are things that simply must be done before one can focus their mind on the greater picture.  I sincerely hope that you find Kyeia, and that she is alright.  I do not know what tests the king's men may perform on her in order to find out why she survived the removal of her eyes, but I do not envy her the tests she will likely undergo.  I have worked with the king's researchers, and I know their ways.  Steel your heart for the worst, Noble.”

I nodded,   “I have suffered losing her once. I would not like to do it again.”

Weaver shook his head, a troubled look about his features, “I'm afraid that being dead is not the worst, my good hearted, noble friend.  I hope for her sake that she has been either left in peace or killed, because the alternative is something that I would wish upon no one.”

His words worried me, casting a shadow of doubt over the surge of hope I'd felt at finding out that Kyeia was still alive.  I knew nothing of the king's research group or the lengths to which they would go in order to reach their ends, but Lucidil seemed to know, and it seemed to set ill with even his grim perspective on the world.  It was perhaps how troubled he was, more than anything else, which sent a cold chill down my spine.  The morning tide couldn't come fast enough.

“Silent, bring Brutal here.  He is not yet aware that I am sending him with you into Uliona territory, and it will be easier if I explain it now.”  Lucidil's voice of command was always direct and clear, a surprising contrast to his regularly relaxed tone, and in response Silent immediately jumped up and dashed out the front flap of the tent.

Weaver's intense red eyes met my own again, “This will be no easy task, my friend.  You will have to constantly remain alert, and do your best not to be seen.  I'm going to issue all three of you regular cloaks, and I recommend you stow your shifting cloaks until you leave the city.  As much as the near invisibility is an asset in battle, our cloaks are like a beacon to all who know of us, and that makes our kind easy to spot in a populated area.  In a normal cloak, with your hood up, and arms covered, most people won't notice your peculiar traits - assuming you don't give them time to do so.”

“Will there be other Knights of Ethan between us and our goal?”  I used the word “other” without pausing, the word simply falling from my lips, and it was only after I'd used it that I realized, to my dismay, that I was no longer a Knight.  Indeed, I had actually only been a Knight for a very short time.  Since the fall of Fell Rock, when I was carried away by Weaver, I had become something else, not quite a Knight and not quite one of the fallen like Weaver and the other ex-Knights of Ethan he traveled with.  Now though, having given my word to kill Ethaniel, I was indeed a fallen Knight, and not merely a lost soul.

“At the villa in Iol, yes, there will certainly be Knights there.  Kyeia will be a top priority for the king and his men until they discover why she still lives.  As for what lays between, that is harder to say.  There are not so many Knights of Ethan that their forces can be everywhere, but there are enough that, should you raise a fuss, you may find yourself pursued by them.  What's more, we do not know where the survivors from Fell Rock have been sent,” Weaver explained.  “There could be more of them in Uliona.  Since the king does not know where my armies are, he would be smart to reinforce as many of his border posts as possible with the Knights from Fell Rock.  He has to be quite worried now, having just had a fortress in the middle of his territory sacked in one night with no warning, and no sign of where the invading army fled to.  It is difficult to say what his next strategy will be, and our spies at court have been giving us mixed messages.  Until we figure out where the misinformation is coming from, our information is too risky to rely upon.”

“Then the information that Kye is alive might be...”  I began, but Weaver quickly interjected.

“No, that is from our other source at Fell Rock, and she has been nothing if not unerringly reliable.  She reports only what she witnesses herself.”

I nodded, relieved to hear that.  For a moment I had feared I might run all the way across the countryside only be faced with the horrible reality that my journey had been for nothing.  I did not know if my heart could take such a burden without shattering once and for all.  My conversation with Weaver ended there as Silent returned to the tent, Brutal following behind him.

“What is it?”  Brutal asked in a petulant tone as he made his entrance into the tent, crossing his massive arms before him.  They were a deep black, streaked with gray, obviously from an older Fell Beast, though still powerful.  I noticed as he spoke that his mouth was lined with razor sharp teeth, but his tone did not have the hard, abrasive edge of those with “the voice.”

“Brutal,” Weaver started.  “You are to accompany Silent and Noble...”

The large warrior spat on the ground.  “I'm not interested.”

Weaver stood up straight, his shoulders going back, and a dangerous boom entering his voice, “This is not a question of what you're interested in.  You are going with Silent and Noble to the Iol territory within the Uliona lands, and you are going to instruct Noble on the proper use of his new abilities, and weapons.  Do you understand?”

Brutal puffed up, flashing his razor teeth, “...and I say that I do not care to travel with the weakling child, and your sneaky little spy, Lucidil.  Do you have a problem with that?”

Weaver sighed, shaking his head and turning to me.  “Noble, kill Brutal.”

“What?!”  Brutal and I exclaimed in unison.

“You heard me, Noble, kill him.  He has directly disobeyed a command, and you didn't want him along on your journey anyway.  If you dispatch him, or injure him enough that he can't come along, then you will not have to take him.”  There was agitation in Lucidil's voice, but not directed at Brutal, instead it was directed at me for forcing him to explain himself.  I looked at the fearsome looking fallen Knight of Ethan.

“I'd like to see you try, whelp.”  Brutal spat, his claws now flexed at his sides.  I looked at my opponent with shock written across my face, not believing what I was about to do, but it was true that I did not want him as part of my travel party.  If I could just injure him enough to keep him from coming along, it would suit me fine.

I got up from my seat and turned to address the large, fearsome fallen Knight.  His massively powerful body was like a well tensioned line, ready to snap into action at the slightest provocation.  I could see the glint of his claws in the low light of the tent, and it made me remember that I had to will my own claws sharper.  They responded at a mere thought, channeling into long, narrow blades.  I poised myself to strike, but I did not get the chance to make the first move.  As if in reaction to some tell-tale sign in my posture, there was a sudden flash of motion and my entire body was forced to shift modes to match the pace of Brutal as he put on full speed.

Even in the adjusted speed sense, Brutal was coming at a run.  I was using my new body under the influence of speed for the first time, and I wasn't yet sure of its limits, but I knew there was only one way to find out.  I pulled my arms up to block the ex-Knight's direct attack, and to my surprise they came up fast.  I could feel the resistance of the world on them, but unlike my human limbs, these ones made the paltry forces of velocity seem like nothing at all.  My arms reached defensive position with time to spare, and Brutal's first attack was easily turned aside.  This did not faze the large warrior though.  He turned his momentum into another assault, spinning around to kick out at me with one of his clawed feet.  My body, trained in hand to hand combat, responded for me, my new limbs giving me the power and speed to do what was necessary.  I forced the direction of his leg's momentum off course with a solid connection from my knee, and then used that momentum to lash out a strike of my own at Brutal's body.  My attack almost landed, but Brutal propelled himself backwards with surprising quickness, and we both flashed back into normal speed as he slid backwards across the floor of Weaver's tent, tearing long streaks in the fabric on the floor.  We only remained at normal speed for a moment though, and then Brutal was on the attack again.

He charged in with his left claw slashing at me with formidable force.  I was already moving to brush this attack aside when my eyes caught the glint of metal flashing in the light, and I noticed that Brutal had drawn his sword with his right arm and was swinging it around his back, spinning his entire body to bring the strike in, backhanded, just behind the slashing of his left claw.  Brutal was fast, but my body was faster, and that was all that saved me from his terrifying sword strike.  I threw my entire mass in the direction his sword slash was traveling, knowing that I would have to outdistance it that way because I would never clear its range by diving backwards - I was in too close.  The tip of Brutal's weapon dragged across the fabric of my cloak, and probably would have split any common garment.  I drew my own sword in one fast motion, using my left hand to bring it to bear as quickly as possible.  My left hand wasn't as graceful as my right, but in a situation where I needed the weapon ready quickly, my left could draw it faster.  I pushed my attack forward, trying to stab at Brutal's exposed back. He seemed to sense this coming, and his powerful legs launched him through the air, and out of the range of my thrust.  On an impulse I dove to the ground and rolled forward.

Had I not done so, the blade of Brutal's sword would certainly have cloven my head in half as he drug it through the air behind him in his flip over me.  I should have been able to beat the other fighter.  He was slower than me, and I got the sense that he was also weaker of muscle.  However, his skill was far superior to mine.  Only a fool would be unable to see that.  Every move he made was perfectly executed and backed by another move if the first one failed.  I came to the realization, then, that I might not be able to beat my opponent, or even manage to keep myself alive.  The world lurched back into normal speed as I came up from my roll and turned around to face Brutal again.

To my surprise, the big warrior was at the other side of the tent, his sword stuck in the ground at his feet, piercing the material of the floor, and driven into the dirt beneath.  There was a smile on his face, a somewhat terrifying thing to see with all of his rows of teeth, but this smile, unlike the first he'd shown me, had found its way to his cold eyes.

“Alright Lucidil, if you insist, I will take the boy to Iol, and I will teach him what I know,” Brutal said, pulling his sword from the ground and sheathing it.

Lucidil simply nodded and moved to clasp the large warrior's shoulder, “Good decision.  I didn't want to have to kill you.”

Brutal leaned in close and whispered something into Lucidil's ear.  My ears turned, straining to hear, but his voice was obviously pitched intentionally for Weaver's ears only.  Lucidil smiled at whatever Brutal said and replied, “I told you.”

The true-to-his-name warrior shrugged, “I had to see for myself.  I always have to see for myself.  It's my way.”

“I know, old friend.  Now go prepare yourself for the journey,” Weaver smiled as he spoke, and I sensed that I was witnessing a comradery between them that had existed for a long time.

Brutal headed for the exit to the tent, stopping in front of me for a moment and offering me his hand once more.  I was still confused by what had transpired, but I reached out and took his clawed hand in mine.  He shook once, firmly, but not with the crushing strength he'd used last time.  “I will see you in the morning, Noble,” with those words he left the tent, leaving me to be stunned and confused by what had just transpired.

“Brutal only respects strength,” came a chipper female voice, and I turned to see that it was Ferocity who was speaking.  “Until he saw for himself what Weaver had already told him, that you were indeed strong, he had decided not to like you.  Down inside he's just a big softy, though.”

I almost laughed, but decided against it.  Brutal was yet another person that I had not properly judged.  I was beginning to think my ability to judge character was faulty.  It was either that, or I was encountering a great deal of people who could not be so readily figured out.  It gave me something to think on, at any rate.  These people were the enemy of the king.  These people, of whom I was now a part, were the greatest source of fear in all the kingdoms of men, but they were all just people fighting for what they believed in.  Of course, I did not know that the same could be said for all of them, but those I'd met so far did not seem like evil individuals.  My perceived world of clear-cut good and evil was crumbling down around me.  When one was young and full of stories of evil sorcerers and terrible monsters it was easy to see the world as a place of light and dark, with no shadows in between, but the reality of the world, I felt, was turning out to be something vastly different.  Each side of this war felt that they fought for what was right, and that the other side was evil, while in truth both sides were constructed of good and evil elements.  Where did that leave a person who wished to make a better world?

For me, I supposed, it didn't matter what I believed in.  I would go to rescue Kye, and if I succeeded in that without dying, I would then have to kill Ethaniel, so that Lace might live the life I had only so recently given back to her.  What would Kye think of the direction my life had taken?  That thought worried me.  She had given her life so that I might fight for the king, but now I was bound to do the opposite.  Would Kye hate me for what I was doing with the gift she had given me?  What would I do if Kyeia despised me for turning my back on the kingdom she had almost died to save?

Weaver had named me Noble, a name that would be hard to live up to.  How could I be Noble when I felt like nothing more than a mercenary, killing on behalf of the person who paid me – even if in this case the payment was the life of one I'd chosen to save?  I was filled with so many questions that were impossible to answer that I suddenly felt overwhelmed.  I took a deep breath, then another, before I realized that Weaver was talking to me.

“...some rest.  I'm sure Silent can find a place for you to sleep for the night.  There are girls willing to comfort you for the evening if you require it, but I want you clear headed and ready to go before the dawn.  I will have your preparations completed by then.  Meet me here on the morrow and I will give you the final details.”

“I will be here and ready before first light,” I replied uneasily.  There were a great many doubts clashing inside of me, and I only hoped that I could do everything I needed to.  For the moment, I would have to concentrate on saving Kyeia and not let my other troubles bother me.  It wouldn't do to be distracted and make mistakes.

Silent grabbed at my sleeve and lead me from the tent out into the camp.  I received a good many stares as we made our way through the crowds of many different peoples, but none of the gazes were outright hostile, just curious at the newcomer with the strange purple eyes.  Silent walked onward, ignoring the looks, and after a few minutes we came to a very large tent, its sides rippling in the frosty winter wind.  He led me inside where there were hundreds of cots set up, a few feet of space between each one.  He continued to the far end before stopping at a couple of beds near the furthest wall from the entrance.

His voice was as light when he spoke.  “Some wind comes in under the edge of the tent, making it colder here, but our cloaks keep us warm so we can sleep here with more privacy then we would get down to the other side of the tent.”  Even as he spoke a gust of wind tugged at the wall of the tent, lifting it and allowing a cold breeze through that rippled the fabric of my cloak.  “I'll go get us some food and bring it back here, and I can arrange for a girl...”

“I'll take the food, but I’ve no need of a woman.  Thank you, Silent," I told him, not feeling much like spending the night with a woman, especially not one I didn't know, and who had probably spent nights with most of the men in the camp.

“Suit yourself, but there are some talented girls here, and they all are quite fond of us Broken Swords.”  He said.

“'Broken Swords?'”  I assumed he was talking about the ex-Knights of Ethan, but I had never heard the term.

He smiled.  “Ethaniel came up with the name.  Full Knights of Ethan are given a sword forged by the king, as a sign of fealty.  When a Knight joins with us, Ethaniel strikes the insignia from the crosspiece of the blade with his claw, 'breaking the sword.'”

I drew my sword and looked at the weapon closely.  Indeed, the symbol on the crosspiece of the sword had a deep strike through the center of it.  I hadn't noticed it before, or if I had, I had assumed that it was merely a sign of use.  I noted that my sword also had rippled indentions on the blade where the fell beast I'd fought had locked its jaws on the metal.  I thought momentarily about seeing if I could have the weapon repaired, but then thought better of it.  Those indents would not affect the weapons usefulness, and they served to remind me of how close I'd come to death that day.  It was good to remember one's own mortality.  I slipped my sword back into its scabbard.  I was a Broken Sword.

“Just some food will be fine, thank you,” I said once more, and Silent nodded, and turned to walk away.  My body still pulsed with energy and I could have easily gotten up and ran for hours, but my mind was tired.  The revelations of the day weighed heavily upon me. I laid back on my cot, my legs draping off the end.  I took notice for the first time that there were red bands of fur at my ankles.  I had never seen them before, likely because when I had first fought the monster it had been in deep snow.  It was strange to see a marking on your body, and not recognize it.  It was stranger still, to see your own arms and legs and barely recognize them.  Life, I decided, was just strange.

Dressed in plain black cloaks, it was almost possible to imagine that we were merely three similarly dressed travelers about mundane business.  Almost.  In the end, though, anyone who looked more than passingly at Brutal, Silent and I would note that we stood a little straighter than most, and walked with a fighter's grace, confident and careful.  A killer could be covered up with some cloth, but he was still a killer beneath the fabric, and few places was that more evident than among the Knights of Ethan and the Broken Blades.  I wondered if it would be at all possible for us to avoid notice once we reached our destination.

I pulled my cloak more tightly about my shoulders as I watched the linesmen finish the process of readying the ship for its voyage.  The black fabric was thick and warm, but didn't have the same comforting, consistent temperature that my Lucidil cloak did, and the wind still bit fiercely when it crashed across the surface of the Old Boy, the merchant ship with which Weaver had arranged for our passage. No normal fabric could dissuade that persistent breeze.  I was happy to be traveling north again.  Even in winter it would be warmer than it was in the deep southern lands.

“I hate the sea,” Brutal commented, as the dock began to slip away from the ship, the island of Howling Wind becoming increasingly smaller on the horizon.

“I've never been to sea,” I replied, and it was the truth.  Other than my short ride to the island, I had never been on the ocean.  I found the expansive water stretching out in every direction fascinating, though there was a certain swaying about the vessel as it rode upon the back of the churning sea that I was certain would have made me ill if not for my body's new ability to adapt to my surroundings.  This time I could feel the change in my inner ear, some mechanism adjusting so that I could maintain proper balance as the boat moved beneath my feet.

“Everything gets crusted with salt, and the damn waves can get angry and flatten you with no effort whatsoever.”  Brutal looked right at me, his black eyes shining beneath his hood, “I can battle hundreds of men or monsters, but the sea could kill me on a whim and I couldn't do a thing about it.  I don't like that.”

I hadn't thought of the sea in those terms before, but now that it had been said, I could relate to Brutal's perspective.  The sea was massive and powerful, and did not care one bit for those who cast their fate to its shifting surface.  I didn't entirely agree with Brutal's perspective, however.  Just about anything in nature could kill you given the right circumstances.  The sea was no different.  It was, perhaps, a bit more mysterious since it was so vast and difficult to explore, but it was just another powerful aspect of the living world, one that I intended not to underestimate.

“My father owned a fishing boat, and he used to spend weeks away from home, out on the sea.  He always came back with the most interesting stories,” Silent added his voice to our conversation.

“Oh, sneaky one?  What kind of stories?”  Brutal asked, his attention piqued.

“He said that if you sailed too far into the sea, there were great monsters, hundreds of times larger than the ships of men, lurking beneath the surface and waiting for foolish sailors to travel into their territory.  Once, he said, he was fishing far out and his nets were filling every time he put them in the water, so he kept trolling further and further, forgetting about the warnings of other sailors.  As he was drawing in his twentieth heavy net of fish, he chanced to look to the distant horizon and saw a king's man-o-war, guns ablaze, battling with something that he couldn't make out.  He finished hauling in his net, and set about turning around to come back to land, deciding he didn't want to have anything to do with naval warfare in his tiny fishing boat, and that is when he saw it.

“The creature rose up out of the sea, or at least part of it did, and it towered above the ship, a great beast, scaled in black, with a mouth a quarter the size of the man-o-war beneath it.  Its body was long and serpentine, with huge rending spines sprouting from its torso.   It dropped its mass upon the man-o-war and the ship exploded into pieces.  Well, my father was no fool, so he put up full sail and made his way toward shore as fast as he could.  He never sailed that far out to sea again.

“He also used to talk of the haunted ships, boats that had gone missing at sea, only to....”

Brutal cut Silent off in mid-sentence.  “I think that's about enough.  I don't like the sea, and your stories aren't making it any more appealing.  Didn't your father have any stories about great prostitutes, or hidden treasure?”

“Do you honestly think my dad would have told me stories about prostitutes?  Besides, it was you who asked about the stories in the first place,” Barked Silent, looking irritated at the gruff warrior's interruption.

“...And it was me who told you to shut your mouth, so I guess we're even now.  Had it been my dad, he would have told some good stories about prostitutes.”  Brutal replied, grinning his toothy grin.  When he saw that Silent was sulking he grunted and changed the subject, “They say it's three days until we reach port in Werin.”  His tone became serious, “That's a long time to be at sea, and I have an uncomfortable feeling about this boat ride.”

At that, Silent stiffened where he was standing.  “How uncomfortable?”

“The feeling has been building since we first came to the dock this morning.  I don't know what's wrong, but it’s coming fast,” the big warrior replied cryptically.

The exchange between Silent and Brutal was confusing, so I decided to acquire some clarification.  “Well, you don't like the sea, so certainly that's contributing to your bad feeling,” I said, prodding for further information without coming out and asking directly.

“Brutal has an unerring sense of trouble.  That's probably another reason that Weaver sent him with us on this journey.  We've learned over the years to trust his bad feelings.  I'm not one to generally believe in such things, but in his case, I've seen his predictions come true one too many times,” Silent had a worried note in his voice.

“I've been like this since I was a young boy.  Anytime anything bad is looming on the horizon, I get this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach a few hours to a day before it happens.  I'm getting that feeling now.  It's going to be an interesting boat ride,” Brutal said.

I had heard of people like Brutal before, but had never believed they were anything other than lunatics with a bit of lucky accuracy.  I was not inclined to think such of my dark-eyed companions.  There was also obviously no kinship between them, and they had no real reason to try and trick me on such a matter.  Those reasons forced me to look on the situation a little more seriously.  Superstition could be avoided, but Silent and Brutal were both insistent that something was coming, and I knew that I would be better off taking their word for it.  They were both more experienced than I in such things, and if they were worried, I decided I should be as well.

All around us the deck was alive with people handling their various duties on board the ship, but the three of us sat looking out uneasily across the water for a time.  The ocean seemed wide open, and despite Brutal's portent, all looked calm.  The sky was deep gray, but it always was so far south, especially with the ever present chill of winter sitting heavily upon the land, or sea, as it was.  I could only look on and wonder what danger might be waiting for us out there.  I thought of the great monster in Silent's story, and a chill ran down my back.  I sincerely hoped we would encounter no creature such as that.

“Let us retire to our quarters,” Brutal began, “there is much we should talk about, and I suddenly don't feel like being on deck.”

We made our way below deck, the crew going out of its way to avoid coming in contact with us.  Though Weaver had paid our passage fairly, the ship's workers wanted little to do with us.  They were not outwardly hostile, but they also didn't want to have anything to do with us if at all possible.  Just because they were on a ship that dealt with our ilk didn't mean they had to like it.  I might have been more bothered by the crew's shunning if I hadn't expected it, but my associations with humans since becoming first a Knight of Ethan, and then more recently a Broken Sword, had left me to expect a certain amount of alienation.  The crew, at least, had nothing cruel to say to us.

Our cabin was nothing more than an emptied storage room near the lowest deck of the ship.  There was a hammock for each of us, and just enough room to store our gear and step a pace or two.  The room had a door that could be barred from the inside, however, and that afforded us a certain amount of privacy that few others on board the ship had with the possible exception of the captain.  We entered our room in a procession, Silent and myself taking a bunk, while Brutal secured the door before lighting the single oil lantern in the room.  Even in the complete darkness that had existed before the lantern was lit, we all could still see to some extent.  Our stolen eyes were quite adept at finding edges and heightening the limited details available to them in the dark.

With the lantern burning there was more than adequate light for the three of us to see by.  Brutal reached into his pack and pulled out a rolled sheet of parchment, undoing it carefully so as not to rip it with his clawed hands.  “Weaver gave me a map to the location of the girl. I think it is time that we decide our best course of action to reach our target once this ship arrives in port,” the massive warrior began, apparently not wanting to discuss the implications of his “bad feeling” any longer.

Silent and I leaned in close to look at the map.  There were names of places and landmarks drawn on it, but I could not identify more than one or two, and those I did recognize were nowhere near our destination.  I was acutely aware of just how limited my geographical knowledge was compared to the others in my party.  I would be of little help in finding our way to where we needed to be, or in aiding in the planning of our course.  The mission was on my behalf, yet it seemed that I was of the least benefit to the party.

“As you can see, we'll have to cross the Iol Adjot River to reach our goal,” Brutal continued.

Silent nodded.  “That will not be easy.  The main bridges across are all heavily manned fortifications, each demanding proper papers before crossing will be permitted," Silent pointed to two different locations along the river edge on the map that I took to be the locations of fortified crossings.  “Traders are permitted through, but general traffic is still limited since that area has only recently fallen into the king's territories.  Beyond the river is mostly thick wilderness, heavy with dangerous beasts.  At least, should we get across the Iol Adjot, we will not have to worry about kingsmen until we reach the villa.”

“But that crossing...”  Brutal let the words hang.

“Might we hire a private ferry across the river?”  I asked, not familiar with the nature of rivers in general, and certainly not this one in particular.  I knew, however, that some people who owned property at a river's edge set up a rope drawn ferry to carry passengers from one side to the other in exchange for money or goods.

“That would work, should such a service exist, but the king regulates traffic across the river, and would not long allow an unmonitored way across.  Also, the Iol Adjot is the swiftest river on the continent, and few men will trust their fate to its waters, even on a ferry,” Silent said, not looking hopeful.  I was unhappy that my idea had been so useless, but I tried not to let it show.

“This is a problem we will have to address as we face it.  We can always make inquiries of the local residents on our way through, or we could have the sneaky one,” Brutal eyed Silent, “do his thing, and see what information he could gather on our behalf.”  He continued, “If we can't find a better way, we can always take down one of the fortified outposts.  It will be a formidable fight, but we should be able to defeat the king's guardsmen.”  I wasn't sure if I agreed with Brutal.  Three men, even three as well equipped for battle as we were, seemed hardly a match for an entire fortified guard post, but I was hoping that it would not come to such a situation.

“The rest of the journey should be simple enough.  We can avoid the major populated areas, though it'll add some time to our trip.  The less we come in contact with people, the fewer of them we'll have to kill.  Now I'm one for wetting my blade as much as the next,” Brutal had a wide smile on his face, “but the more trouble we stir up the less likely we'll get our job done and get back to Lucidil and the others.  They're the source of all the real fun.”

Silent sighed. “Your definition of fun is discouraging.  I look forward to the end of all this fighting.  I think Weaver's vision will bring that about.”  It surprised me to hear the younger Knight say that.  Pacifism was something I had not expected from any of the Broken Swords, a group who stood blatantly in opposition to the king.  Their entire purpose, it seemed to me, was to incite a war.  Yet Silent seemed to believe that such a war was the only true path to peace, and that I found disconcerting.  Could war ever truly be a step toward peace?  It was a baffling thing to consider.

Brutal huffed in exasperation, “Lucidil doesn't want peace.  He wants a world that fits his ideal, and that kind of thinking will never lead to peace.  Ours is the way of war, Sneaky, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.  There is honor and glory to be had in war.  A man with a strong sword arm and a swift blade can make a name for himself if he is willing to put his neck on the line to do so.  That is why we fight beside Lucidil, because he is a great man who will lead his followers to greatness.”

I frowned, “You just said that Lucidil would never lead the world to peace, and yet you call him a 'great man' a few words later.  What is it that makes Lucidil such a great man, if he is not one that will ever lead his people to peace?”

Brutal guffawed, “A man is not great because he is a good man.  A great man can be good, evil, or any shade of gray in between.  A great man is a man who sees the world around him, and changes it to suit him, instead of letting it change him to suit itself.  Lucidil, he is the sort of man that will sunder the world to see it fit the image he wants.  He is the sort of man that people follow, and I am the sort of man who will only follow a great man. That is why I follow Lucidil.”

“Hmmm,” I did my best to remain impassive as I lay back in my hammock.  Of my travel companions, I was the only one fighting on behalf of Lucidil not for some belief in the man, but because I was bound to do so.  I had not chosen to step into this war on either side, but I had found myself tossed between the two sides without a choice in the matter.  The real problem was that I believed in neither of the two sides.  The king was power hungry, destroying anything that stood in his path to spreading domination across the land, and Lucidil and his army were dispassionate, doing whatever they had to in order to destroy the kingdom of men, even if they committed atrocities along the way.

“What about you, Noble? Why have you come to fight with Lucidil?”  Brutal asked.  He, apparently, knew little of my story.  “Is it because he tells you that you are our greatest hope, or do you simply like being the center of attention?”

I opened my mouth and was about to speak, but Silent spoke before I could, “He fights for us because he must in order to protect the people he cares about.  That is why Lucidil gave him the name 'Noble,' because he fights on behalf of others, and not for his own cause.”  I was surprised at Silent's words, not because they were false, but because he presented a perspective I hadn't thought of.  In truth, I had always believed that the name Weaver had given to me was partially done in jest.  I was Weaver's “Noble Fool,” with the emphasis being on the “fool.”

“That's stupid, boy.  Being a hero is thankless.  There is rarely glory in fighting for those who wouldn't fight for themselves, and there is never any reward,” Brutal said, lying back in his cot.  “You should find something you believe in to fight for.  That's what matters.”

I decided to keep my mouth closed since I couldn't think of anything of worth to say on my behalf.  Anything I might say would just make me sound more foolish than I already did.  Silent had attempted to fit me into the mold that was my given name, but I was not “Noble,” simply a stupid man backed into a corner with no way out.  A noble man, I believed, would not fight for a cause he did not have any faith in.  In that way, Brutal was right.  I should have been fighting for something that was important to me.

“Get some sleep.  There is trouble is coming, and we'll all need to be at our best,” Brutal said from where he was laying.  I didn't feel much like sleeping, but I'd been finding that my new body would sleep when and where it could if I willed it to do so.  It seemed to store the energy I gained while sleeping.  I closed my eyes and willed myself into sleep, still not entirely believing Brutal's prediction of trouble, but deciding to be safe rather than regret it later.  I didn't know just how soon the fierce warrior's predictions would become clear.

I awoke to find that Brutal was gone, and Silent was still deep asleep in his hammock.  I crawled from my bed quietly, so as not to wake my sleeping companion, and made my way out the door and up onto deck to look for Brutal.  The ship was quiet, almost eerily so, compared to how it had been when we'd first gone below decks.  The sun had set while I slept, and the world beyond the door leading outside was cast in deep blackness that can only be achieved on a moonless, overcast night.  It only took me a moment to locate Brutal.  His shape was tall and rigid, silhouetted against the railing on the port side of the ship, his outline sharp by the enhanced perspective of my stolen eyes.

The wind was chill as I stepped up into it, but it also held the freshness that only sea air could hold, and I took a couple deep breaths before approaching the imposing warrior.  He turned to face me as I drew closer and I noted that his eyes had a haunted look about them.  I had obviously disturbed him from some deep and troubling thoughts.  I considered turning around and going back to our bunk, but he had already noticed me and I didn't feel like being below decks, so I stayed.  I could have willed myself to sleep more, but I was already bursting with energy - the prospect of more sleep was something that I could not bear at that moment.  Like Brutal, I was haunted by memories, and plagued by worries.  Every time I dreamed, I dreamt of Kye, always just beyond my reach, but in dire need of my help.  I hated dreaming.

“The air helps to clear your mind,” I said, not feeling much like talking, but needing to say something to the dark-eyed warrior staring at me.

“No, not tonight it doesn't,” he answered, and looked back out over the ocean.  “Something terrible is coming, Noble.  It's coming from there,” he pointed out to sea, though I couldn't make out anything.  Was the vicious warrior simply paranoid?

“What do you think it is?”  I asked, humoring his paranoia, if that was indeed all it was.

“It's like a fire... only it's blue.  It wants to consume us, to devour us like a flame bites at dried wood, using us for energy until it is ready to burn on elsewhere.  I dreamed of it.”  There was a wavering in his voice, though it was barely noticeable.  If it wasn't for my sensitive ears I might not have detected it at all.  Brutal, the brute that he was, was capable of feeling fear.  “It's coming fast upon us.”  He whispered those last words.

I found myself falling into Brutal's fear, as though I were a small boat being pulled in the wake of a giant ship.  Seeing his expression and hearing the waver of fright in his voice was enough to put me on edge, “How much longer do we...”  I didn't get to finish my sentence, as a voice called out from the crow's nest at the top of the mainsail.

“Ho to deck, light to port, coming in fast!”  Called the voice down from above.

I looked out over the railing, straining my eyes to see what the lookout had seen.  His vantage was much better, but my eyes were far more acute.  Distant, but becoming larger by the minute, a blue hued light was shining on the sea.

“We're out of time,” Brutal said, and he pushed me aside as he made his way for the door that lead below deck.  “Stay here,” he called back over his shoulder.  “I'll get Silent and our gear.  Prepare yourself for battle.”  He vanished into the door, and I was left to stare at the blue light on the horizon that was growing easier to see far too quickly for my liking.  All around me on the deck crewmen were appearing, waking up from sleep to investigate the lookout's sighting.  There was a general air of confusion as they each guessed as to what might be out there, but none of them could say for sure.  We were not traveling in deep waters far out to sea, neither were we traveling unexplored reaches, and so it was even more confusing for them, experienced sea hands that most of them were, to see something beyond their expectations.  A minute later Brutal and Silent were back on deck, both looking alert and worried.  Silent tossed me my pack, which I quickly fastened on, and we stood together watching the light.

Before long the captain was on deck as well, calling up to the lookout, “How far out is it, and will it be crossing our path, Eyes?”  He used the generic name for a lookout when he referred to the man in the crow's nest.

“Can't tell the range sir, but it seems to be headed straight in our direction, fast.  I give another twenty minutes - less before it's in hailing range,” the lookout called back.

“Men to ready stations!”  The captain bellowed, and everyone aboard ship scrambled to get to where they were supposed to be.  Brutal grabbed the captain by the shoulder as he was walking by, jerking him to an abrupt stop and spinning him around until they were eye to eye.

“What is going on?  What is out there?”  The big warrior asked, his tones full of ire and command.

The captain shied away from the Broken Sword, obviously terrified by the man but unable to break Brutal's unflinching grip.  He made his best attempt at acting unafraid, but was only convincing to those who couldn't hear the shaking in his voice and see the rattle of his knees.

“I don't know what's out there, but it's always safer to assume it's dangerous until we know for certain.  You three might be better off below decks if things get...”  He began his last sentence but seemed to think better of it a few words in, “No, I suppose you'd be better off right here on deck if there is trouble.”  With that, he managed to free himself from Brutal's grip, or Brutal let him free, and he ran off towards the ship's helm.

Silent, who was still at the ship's rail, called out, “I think it's another vessel.”

One of the crew men in range spat on the deck and said, “It can't be.  It's coming directly against the wind, and far too fast.  It must be something else.”

From the crow's nest the voice of the lookout called down to the deck again, “She's got sails, Captain.  Blue, glowing sails!  It's a ship.”

The crewman who had just insisted that it couldn't be a ship spat on the ground once more, looking more worried that he was wrong than he was angry about it, "It's a ghost ship, come to take us as one of its own.”  He muttered quietly beneath his breath.  Other sailors, those close enough to hear him, nodded their agreement, a wave of fear rippling through the assembled crew.  Time passed and soon everyone on deck could make out the sails of the approaching ship, and no one looked pleased.  For Brutal, Silent, and I the sight was even more disturbing than for the crew.  The ship coasting towards us at unbelievable speeds did not have blue glowing sails as the lookout had thought, but instead it had large black sails, being billowed from behind by giant balls of what appeared to be glowing blue fire.  At the sight of that supernatural fire a cold chill ran up my spine.  I remembered, only too well, Brutal's words from when I'd first come up on deck.  It was the all-consuming blue flame.

The craft drew nearer, and there was little we could do but watch it coming in.  As it grew close enough for us to discern the appearance of the vessel, more and more crew members began to become agitated.  It was a massive seafaring structure, no less than twice as large as our own ship, and it was of a craftsmanship no one seemed to recognize.  The entire ship seemed to glow blue with the light from the undulating balls of fire pushing the sails.  What was the most distressing was that it had certainly seen us by that point, and it was still coming directly for us.

The Old Boy's captain had come to the railing, holding a magical device that would allow him to magnify his voice in one hand so that he might hail the other ship as soon as possible, but he looked troubled.  I could tell by his posture that he didn't hold high hopes for any sort of negotiation with the strange, blue fire driven ship approaching us.  Brutal and Silent obviously agreed with that sentiment, as they were both standing with their sword hands on the hilt of their weapons.  I noticed them, and then I noticed that I too stood at the ready, my right fist wrapped about the hilt of my sword.

There was a flash of red light from near the bow of the approaching ship, and a split second later a huge explosion of wood and splinters erupted from the top of the deck, not ten feet from where I stood, followed by a concussive explosion emanating from the distant ship.  Screams filled the air instantly and people were running in a hundred different directions.

“Cannon fire!”  The crewmen yelled as they set about trying to find cover on deck, though what cover from a cannon ball they might expect to find, I couldn't know.  There was another flash of red from the fast approaching ship, and another concussive impact threatened to knock me from my legs.  I didn't know where the second projectile hit, but our entire craft shifted in the water with the force of the blow.  Our ship was not a war ship, merely a merchant vessel, and we had only four cannons per side.  The ship approaching us was much larger and had at least two front mounted cannons, not a common armament on any ship.  If it were to turn its side to us, I didn't want to speculate on how many cannons it could bring to bear.  The accuracy with which they were firing was another alarming factor.  They had not fired a sighting round, merely opened fire with deadly accuracy immediately.  Our tiny ship didn't stand a chance against a ship and crew of the caliber we were facing.

Brutal stood at my left, his sword held firmly in one hand, apparently drawn after one of the cannon strikes, a look of frustration on his face.  To my right Silent stood, his sword still in its scabbard, but the same look of frustration mirrored there.  I could feel it as well.  We could do nothing so long as the ships remained separate, but wait and hope we had a chance to fight before we died.  The other ship was still coming though, its ethereal flames driving it with terrible speed against the wind.  As it drew nearer I could make out armored figures, huge and imposing, marching across the deck.  They looked human in only the vaguest way imaginable.  They were sickly yellow and pale where their skin showed beneath their armor and their eyes burned like brilliant red fire, actually emitting light through their helms.

“What foul pit did those things come from?”  I heard Brutal exclaim.  I had been wondering the exact same thing myself.  They were like nothing I had ever heard of before, and their boat was just as alien as those riding upon it.  It seemed constructed of the skeleton of some monstrous dead beast, made seaworthy by stretching the fallen creature's impossibly thick hide over the disgusting framework of its bones.  We had little time to gawk at it, however, as the fore-cannons flashed again and again, balls of weighted death ripping through the wood of our ship with ease, and the massive craft still drawing nearer.

“They're ramming!”  Someone yelled about the same time I realized that was indeed their intention.  Brutal, Silent and I left the railing at the port side in a rush.  Brutal grabbed hold of the mainmast, his powerful hands ripping into the wood there, and I followed his example and found something firm to grip - an anchor mount.  I didn't have time to look for Silent as it was only a moment after I tore my claws into the anchor mount on the deck that the flame-sailed ship struck us with explosive force.  Crew members not securely fastened down flew from the boat and were launched hundreds of feet out to sea.  Even holding on as tightly as I was, I felt the jarring force through my entire body and was launched into the air, kept aboard ship only by the strength of my new body.  As soon as the boat settled from the impact with the enemy ship I was to my feet, my sword forgotten in favor of my claws which I willed to razor sharpness.  The enemy ship had torn halfway through ours before finally coming to a stop, and it’s terrible, sickly colored warriors were pouring over the side of their craft and onto our decks.  Anywhere they encountered a crew member they dispatched the helpless man with their strange, jagged-edged curved blades, often taking a moment to hack at the bodies repeatedly before moving on.  Most of the crew was now dead, unconscious, or thrown from the ship.

I didn't have to think about what I was going to do, for my body acted on my behalf.  I charged forward, a roar of primal rage erupting from within me.  At the corner of my vision I saw Brutal joining my charge, his sword in one hand, and his cutting claws ready on the other.  I sprung at the nearest group of enemies, letting my body's senses speed up until the enemy seemed to be barely moving across the deck.  Slowed down as they seemed, I was able to fully appreciate just how horrible the creatures attacking us were. Their armor had much in common with their ship.  It looked like it had been something alive at one point, with a framework of bones held together by a surprisingly strong flesh, stretched taunt. They stood on average around seven feet tall, straight, and wound with tight muscles.  Their eyes burned like red pits and were set in a featureless face broken only by impossibly large mouths that opened into rows of teeth.  I couldn't tell beneath their armor, but they looked to be entirely hairless.  They did, however, have varying spikes protruding from their flesh, which I had at first taken to be parts of their armor.  Some had large horns coming from their heads, while others had a row of foot-long spikes running down their spine.  The bony, deadly looking protuberances seemed to be the primary difference between the members of their race.  The blue fire of their ships sails went out, and all that was left was a field of burning red eyes.  All this I witnessed before reaching my first target, but once I had, everything around me faded but the battle itself.

My powerfully clawed hands tore through their armor and bodies with such alarming ease that I wasn't even certain I was killing them at first.  They moved slowly, the fastest of them not offering the slightest challenge as I shredded through them.  I let myself return to normal speed briefly between attacks, knowing that I would expend my reserves entirely if I pushed myself to my fullest for too long.  I remembered what Weaver had first told me about this ability - it was like running as hard and as fast as you could every time you used it, and as the enemies fell before me, I began to realize just how true that statement was.  There were so many of the creatures about me that I began to wonder if I would ever see the end of them.  I fell back, lapsing into normal speed, and found myself gasping for breath.  Brutal was off to my left, still flashing from enemy to enemy, apparently doing much better than I was.  I would catch sight of him one moment only to lose him the next and see him reappear a breath later, his blade trailing the strange blackness the creatures bled when cut.   I looked up to the deck of the enemy ship and saw that one of the beasts was standing up there, looking down at the battle below.  That one was different than the others.  It had eyes that burned a fiery blue, much like the light that had been in the sails.  I watched as it raised its arm above its head in a slow arc, and brought it down quickly.  A streak of blue fire erupted from the tip of its finger and splashed, like molten liquid, down toward the deck where Brutal was still fighting.  I switched on the speed immediately, forcing myself as fast I had ever gone before.  The world seemed to almost completely stop around me, and I found that it was difficult to move.  I forced motion, dragging myself forward even as that terrible blue fire fell toward where I could now see Brutal fighting.  He hadn't looked up yet, couldn't know that death was streaking toward him.

My body ached as I pushed faster, thrashing out with my claws at anything that stood in my way.  Starting the movement was hard, but my muscles obeyed me and at the speeds I was traveling my hits disintegrated the opponents in my path, blowing them apart in violent explosions of black ichor.  I reached Brutal just in time, grabbing him and pulling him down with all the force I could muster.  He spun backwards, rolling across the deck, and I fell in behind him.  The blue liquid fire hit the deck where we had been only moments before, vaporizing several of the strange ship's own crew and melting a gaping hole through the deck.  I came to my feet as the world lurched back into normal speed, and Brutal came to my side.  If he was angry at me for throwing him, his anger fled as he looked at the burning hole in the deck that had been the place he'd been standing a moment before.

Seeing us still alive, the blue-eyed demon on the deck screeched something into the air, and the monsters on board our ship began to retreat, climbing back up the side of their carapace like vessel.  Those fierce blue eyes, burning with the promise of death stared down at Brutal and me until the last of its crew was back aboard ship, and then the creature simply turned and walked away.  The blue fire in the sails lit again, on the opposite side of the sail, and the strange ship tore away from our own, taking massive pieces of our craft with it.  Neither Brutal nor I attempted to pursue the ship, knowing that we could not fight the rest of the monsters aboard their own vessel and survive.  The enemy ship maneuvered out and away from us, and began heading in the direction it had originally been traveling, towards land.  It fired one more volley from cannons located in its aft as it departed, the shots ripping through our quickly sinking wreckage, and then was too far away to attack us anymore.

Our ship was sinking alarmingly fast, the cold ocean waters swallowing the wreckage of the shattered craft into the vast darkness below.  The deck churned and twisted beneath our feet, wood splintering as the framework gave in to the stresses caused by the extensive damage to the hull.  Brutal sprinted across the wood planking, flashing to full speed to reach the side of the ship where the lifeboats should have been, but I was still searching, vainly, for any sign of Silent.  He was not on the deck that I could see, in fact, there was no one else left alive on the deck except Brutal and myself.

The black-eyed warrior called out from his place near the lifeboats, “The boats are all destroyed.  I think that last blast took out any that were remaining.”  A loud crack split the air, emanating from somewhere within the failing structure, and the deck beneath us began to tilt upward at a sharp angle, the bow of our transport leaving the water entirely.   My clawed feet dug into the wood planking to gain traction and keep me from rolling backwards into the waiting sea.

“We'll have to find a large piece of debris, and use it to float ourselves to shore!”  Brutal called over the screams of wood caving in to the stress of broken supports.  The craft shifted again in the water, this time the bow shot straight up into the air, and both Brutal and I were forced to snag the wooden deck with our clawed hands to resist being thrown.  “Drop into the water and find yourself a piece of wood to hold onto.  Get away from the ship as quickly as possible and start swimming for shore.”  My companion yelled, then, having delivered his message, he let go of the ship's deck and dropped into the water below.  It took me a moment to gather the nerve to do the same.  The ocean looked fierce and cold beneath me, but I knew that staying with the sinking ship was folly.  I pulled my hand from the ship, willing the claws to dull so that I didn't cut myself when I hit the water, and let my body fall the twenty feet or so to the icy waters below.

When I hit the surface of the water, I broke through easily and plunged several feet into the ocean murk before I could begin to force my way upward again. I'd had little experience with swimming in my life, and none of it was with full clothes, a sword, a vest of a chain mail, and a pack of supplies all weighing me down.  My powerful limbs managed to get me to the surface, but it was a struggle to keep my head above water with all the additional ballast I was carrying.  I struggled to breathe, gasping at the air, and realized that I would have to get rid of something if I was to survive.  I pulled off my pack, and found that it floated without my aid, so I let it drift for a moment while I attempted to undo my cloak. The struggle with my cloak took enough effort that I had to stop paddling and so began to sink into the cold water.  I made the attempt multiple times, working a few seconds and then swimming back to the surface, before taking a lung full of air and allowing myself to sink while I battled the stubborn garment.  I finally willed my claws sharp and severed the ties on my cloak, letting it drift up and away from me.  I felt less encumbered, though I knew it wasn't enough yet.  I was still sinking.  I grabbed at my chain mail vest, sinking deeper and deeper as I fought with it, the pressure of the ocean pushing in on me in an unsettling way.  I almost panicked, but finally I managed to pull the metal woven vest over my head and drop it into the abyss.  As soon as it was gone from me, I found that I was able to swim to the surface of the water again with ease.  I dug at the water fiercely, breaking the surface with such velocity that most of my body cleared the surface for a moment.  I breathed deeply, sucking in the frigid air with relief.  It was then that I realized just how cold the actually was.  My heart was hammering in my chest, my body attempting to adjust itself to the new hostile environment it was thrust into, but even with my blood burning like a furnace and my metabolism sky rocketing, my extremities felt worryingly cold.

A board struck me in the back of the head and I spun about in the water, fearing that the ship was collapsing in upon me, and indeed it was sinking in my direction, but the board that had struck me was a large chunk of deck being propelled by Brutal who was on the other side of it.  “Grab your pack and help me,” he growled angrily, and I noted that he too had shed his chain vest and black cloak.  I looked around, only remembering that I had let go of my pack now that he had reminded me.  It hadn't gone far and I retrieved it quickly before swimming around to his side of the floating piece of deck to help him push it. The piece was large enough that we were both able to get the upper halves of our body out of the water and onto the wood.  From there we were able to use our legs to propel ourselves forward.  We swam, for a time, in complete silence, just trying to get away from the wreckage of the ship.  Other than the churn of the ocean tide, the world was deathly silent around us.  There were no screams for aid, or voices of other survivors.  It was just the two of us adrift on that wide, empty expanse of water.

I shivered, freezing in the chill air, my wet clothes turning to ice against my skin. Now that half of me was out of the water, my body - my gift from Kye - was finally able to keep the worst of the chill from sinking in, but the cold was still enough that it threatened to stiffen my limbs and make me want to simply lay down and give up.  I forced myself to speak instead, eager to break the silence, and in need of something keep my mind working.

“Did you see Silent after the enemy ship rammed us?”  I asked Brutal, and I found I didn't need to feign concern for the missing Broken Sword.  Whatever else Silent was, or whatever else he had been involved in, he was always a friend to me.

Brutal shook his head in reply, “I was barely able to keep a hold of the mainsail when that hit came.  I looked for him after things settled, in the scant few seconds before we were joined in battle, but I did not see him.  I think he was thrown from the ship in the impact.”

I wondered if he could survive such a violent impact, and if he would be able to make it to shore.  We were so distant from shore, that land wasn't even visible, and if it hadn't been for Brutal and the large piece of decking he'd found, I don't believe I would have made it as far as I had.  For the second time since I'd known Silent I was left wondering whether he were alive or dead.  This time, I decided to have more faith in him.  He was a Broken Sword, and our ilk were not so easily dispatched.  I didn't know how he would do it, but I believed that he would make it back to shore.  My mind turned to the creatures that had rammed us, and their strange ship and armor.

“What were they?”  I asked, forgetting to be more specific in my question, but apparently Brutal had been thinking of them as well.

“I can't say," Brutal answered, "I've never seen their like before, and I've seen a lot in my three hundred years, believe me.  Lucidil might know, but I doubt it.  Whatever those things had been, they were not beasts of our land.  What has my mind in knots though, is that they attacked without provocation, and did so with the intent of leaving no survivors.  That is troublesome.”

“They are obviously hostile, but why are you worried by the fact that they tried to kill us all?” I asked, not quite understanding why he would find that fact more alarming than the more obvious aspects of the terror we had just faced.

“A hostile force always sends scouts out first, and only forward scouts go through the trouble of making sure they've not been seen by anyone.  Do you ken?” he asked, and sudden understanding flickered in my mind.

“You mean they're just the scouts for a larger force?”  The chill surrounding me suddenly seemed much more profound, as though it were seeping into my heart.

“I can only guess what their motivation might be, but why else would they go through the trouble of blasting our ship to pieces, and then boarding it?  If they were trying to simply board us for supplies, they would not have so damaged our ship before boarding, for fear of destroying our cargo.  However, the fact that they boarded our ship after severely damaging it and started killing off crew members as soon as they touched deck bodes ill for us.  It seems to me that they were trying to insure that we did not get back to land where we might tell someone what had happened.”  He smiled grimly, and I noted that his lips had turned blue from the cold, “I don't think they anticipated the resistance we offered.  They retreated after taking losses they hadn't expected, assuming that we wouldn't be able to make it back to shore alive anyway, especially not with our lifeboats destroyed.  They assumed wrong.”

I nodded my agreement, but wondered what we could really do even if we managed to get back to dry land.  We could hardly report what we'd learned to the king.  We could trek all the way back to Lucidil and report to him, but he did not have the size of army needed to resist a massive encroaching force.  Of course, such thoughts were all speculation.  Neither Brutal nor I knew the exact nature of the enemy that had attacked us.  It was hard to imagine, however, that they had anything like peaceful intentions in mind.

“Did you see their figure head?”  Brutal said suddenly, breaking my thought process.

“No,” I replied.  I had been too engaged in what was happening on deck to notice the enemy ship's figure head.

“It was some kind of monstrous thing, with great, milky white eyes, probably jewels of some type.  A terrifying beast.  I've never seen anything like it.  When it first crashed into us, I thought one of Silent's monsters had gotten a hold of our ship.”  The large warrior paused for a moment before adding.  “I think the kid will be all right.  Sneaky bastards like him can generally get themselves out of any kind of trouble.”

I hoped he was right.

We spent nearly a full day drifting at sea before we even came within sight of land, and by the time we were able to paddle our makeshift ship to shore our bodies were coated in a layer of salty ice.  Had I needed to fight just then, I would not have been able to do so even to save my life.  My legs were numb from their time in the water, and my fingers ached as I forced them to move against their better inclination.  As soon as we were able to drag ourselves onto land we went about building a fire, scavenging drift wood and dried fall from trees further up the shore, not caring what attention the blaze might bring.  Neither of us was in any position to go any further without melting the ice from our clothes and limbs.  Within a few hours of getting our fire going, the worst of the cold was finally dissipating.

Brutal had not broached the topic of what our next move might be, and I was not inclined to do so either.  I intended to continue north to find Kyeia, but I wasn't certain what Brutal intended.  It was obvious that the terms of our original mission no longer applied.  Our transport to the north lands was gone, and we couldn't be certain how much progress we'd made before our ship was attacked.  One of our party was missing, and Brutal and I were both short on our supplies and resources.  We had our Lucidil cloaks, which had been at the bottoms of our packs, but our chain mail armor was gone, and our food rations were destroyed by their long exposure to the ocean water.  Our scabbards were saturated with salt water, and we were in need of the proper supplies to treat our weapons so that they wouldn’t rust.  In general, we were in no position to go on.  I knew that, and was well aware that Brutal knew it as well.  I had no intention of going back, however, and it was that fact that I believed would cause strife with Brutal.

We sat in silence, watching the fire and drying our clothes.  It took a good six hours to finish drying our clothing, but as soon as all of our cloth had thoroughly been freed of water, Brutal stood up and slung his pack over his shoulder.  I did the same, looking to the sky to get a fix on the direction I needed to travel.  The stars were high, and it was easy to find north.  I turned, ignoring Brutal entirely, and started walking.  I took only two steps before a clawed hand clasped my shoulder firmly.

“You're going the wrong way.”  Brutal's voice had a low, undeniable growl to it.  I had been right in assuming he would want to go back, and assuming that he would be aware of my intentions.

“No, I'm going north, towards the Uliona lands... toward our mission,” I said, not turning to face the big warrior.

“Our responsibility is to Lucidil.  This mission has been over since our ship was attacked and sunk.  We have to go back and report what has happened, and if Lucidil chooses to send us back out, he'll arrange another ship and we'll head north again.”  Brutal said, his grip on my shoulder tightening.

I turned to face him, “Our mission is north.  I don't remember Lucidil creating a stipulation that said we had to turn back if our ship was attacked.”

“Don't you play smart with me, boy,” growled the fierce Broken Sword.  “You know as well as I that what happened out to sea is no minor matter.  Besides, in the time it would take you to walk north, we could return to camp, get a ship, and reach our destination.”

“You don't know that.  Do you have any idea how far our ship went before it was set upon?  Do you know how far we drifted?  I'm not wasting any more time by going south.”  More than losing time, I was afraid that if I went south, Lucidil would not allow me to return for Kye.  It was a distinct and terrifying possibility that I wasn't willing to accept.

Brutal's hand went to his sword hilt and his lip curled, “Don't make me rail you in, cub.  You think you're something special, but you're just a sword like the rest of us.  We're doing as I say because it is our duty and I outrank you on this trip.  Now come along without a fuss and this won't have to get messy.”

I didn't want to fight the more experienced warrior again.  He wasn't as fast or as strong as I was, but his skill outclassed mine by a wide margin.  He would win if things came to blows.  I didn't intend to turn back, however.  No matter how little distance we'd covered aboard the ship, I felt that if I ran north as hard as I could, I would make better time reaching my destination then if I were to go south and wait to be given a ship once more, the chance remained that Weaver would not allow my return to the Uliona lands at all once he'd heard the news of our ship's strange attackers.

“What will you tell Weaver?  Will you tell him that an enemy may be coming from across the sea and that they bring strange magic and pose a threat to all of us?  What would he do?  His army is large, but it is not large enough to secure the whole coast, and he would have to contend with the king's own men in order to secure those positions anyway.  How thin would his numbers be if he had to first take the coastal guard points, and then defend them?  What would you accomplish by warning him now?”  I asked, trying to persuade the big warrior before violence broke out.

“He would have important knowledge, and knowledge is a great weapon.”  Brutal drew his sword as he spoke, and began circling about the fire.  “Almost as great as this one.”

I followed him, step for step, keeping the blaze between myself and my crafty opponent.  “Are you going to fight me and kill me, Brutal?  What would Weaver have to say about that?  Why don't you just let me go north on my own?”

“He'd probably say, 'Why thank you Brutal, that boy was a stubborn idiot who was always getting in the way, what would I do without your decisive and bold actions?'”  The swordsman smiled at his own cleverness.

I smiled myself, finding humor in the comment despite my best intentions.  “He might, but perhaps he would say, 'Would it have really taken that long to go north, finish your mission and then come back?  Now we're going to need a new ‘Noble fool.'”

Brutal chuckled and his sword tip dropped.  “Damn it, boy, why do you have to make my life so difficult?  I could have been in a nice warm cot by a fire somewhere, enjoying the company of a warm woman, but instead I'm out here in the frigid cold, scraping brine from my skin, and enjoying the company of a smart-mouthed brat with more power than brains.”

I shrugged, “At least you're not out to sea anymore. Did you really want to take another boat ride?”

“No, I suppose not,” he said, only sounding a little perturbed.  “Alright, we'll go north, but we need to stop in a town and pick up some supplies along the way.  Also, we'll travel fast.  I want to get back to Lucidil's camp as soon as we can.  He needs to know what happened.”

I nodded, happy to see that the crisis had been averted.  Brutal was fierce, but he was also intelligent and might even have some semblance of goodness in him, despite his best intentions to the contrary.  I preferred to have him on my side than to have to fight against him.  For the first time I realized what an important asset Brutal really was on my mission.  He was intelligent, and terrific in a fight.  If I used my time with him appropriately, I could learn a good deal.  Lucidil was far wiser than I had given him credit for.  Of course he should be, having lived as long as he had.  He'd had time to learn.  If I was to become stronger as a person, I needed to learn to listen to those more experienced than myself.  At the least, I needed to hear them out before dismissing them entirely.

Traveling fast also wasn't a problem for me, as I didn't want to spend any more time than necessary on the road before reaching the villa in Iol.  I didn't know what the king's men were doing to Kye, but I had a suspicion that I wouldn't like it when I found out.  I swore to myself that if they were hurting her, I would make each and every one of them pay for it with their lives.  It might not be the noble thing to do, but I was at my limit as far as nobility was concerned.

I lost track of the time as we ran.  Despite my clothes being dry, and the fire having warmed me before we left our temporary camp, I still felt a deep chill in my bones.  It was, I knew, only the last vestige of chill from the frigid ocean waters, but that didn't change the fact that the cold clung to me, unwilling to be shaken free.  Our pace though, a quick run by any standards, was working out the frost from my joints far better than the fire had.  It felt great to stretch my new legs for the first time, the miles flying away with only the barest effort.  As I ran, I felt that I was possessed of an unending vigor such that I might continue on forever.  I was light and agile as I'd never dreamed of being in my youth.  Brutal ran just ahead of me, keeping the pace and guiding us in the direction of several plumes of smoke he'd seen to the north, further along the coast.  Our other companion, Silent, was still missing, either lost to sea forever, or else simply on a different road than the one we now traveled.  I still believed that he had made it back to shore and had taken a different route from there.  He could have washed up anywhere along the beach for miles in either direction, so it was not only possible but likely that we would not encounter him at all.  Still, it was difficult not to worry.

We drew closer to the town Brutal had sighted, and I knew before we even came in sight of our destination that something was amiss.  There was an aura of black haze coming from above the frozen tree line and heavy trails of smoke hung thickly in the air, far larger than those that should have been coming from chimneys on a cold night.  The air was full of the smells of battle, and there was tenseness in the environment that was hard to articulate.  The wildlife in the area was silent, and the world seemed preternaturally still.  Brutal knew something was wrong as well, and had probably noticed the strangeness around us before I had.  His speed had been subtly increasing, but as we neared the last bend in the road we'd been following, he blurred forward, his body pushing toward its limits.  I followed suit, riding the pace of my quickening heartbeat, and the scenery about me slowed to my perception.

The bend in the road was passed in a fraction of a second, and we both ground to halt, tearing ruts in the ground as we came to the edge of what once had been a small rural village in the full snowy cloak of winter.  There was a large wooden wall, though it was blown apart, pieces laying strewn about the dirt streets.  The buildings, those few that still stood, had been devastated by some something large and powerful.  They were either partially or wholly collapsed, most were nothing more than piles of cinder, still giving off the telltale plumes of smoke that Brutal had been following.  Beneath the smoke was a terrible stench of rot, so strong and putrid that I was thankful the smoke was partially obstructing the foulness.  Brutal's claws were sharp, and held at the ready at his sides.  I followed his example, sticking close to the experienced warrior with my weapons, the deadly claws on my hands, prepared to strike as needed.

Together we walked through the burnt-out remains of the town, paying silent witness to the atrocities committed on what looked to be a peaceful village.  I didn't know the source of the attack, but I suspected what it might be and I thought that Brutal probably suspected the same source.  Building after building we passed with no sign of survivors, the smell of rot becoming more potent as we proceeded towards the center of the village.  I didn't know what we would find there, but I strongly suspected the worst.  I dreaded every step we took that brought us nearer that foul smell, but Brutal pressed on determinedly, and I knew that we had to see what was to be seen.  It was important.  We were likely to be the only witnesses to the full extent of this atrocity.  By the time any other village came looking, the entire disaster would be frozen over and most signs of what had happened erased by the ravages of nature.  Our eyes would witness the full tale the ravaged village had to tell.

It took me a long time to realize exactly what I was seeing when we finally reached the center of town.  There was a large pile of what I took to be bodies, laying and rotting in the central square, but as I grew closer I quickly realized that the pile was actually composed of only the skin of the men, women and children of the town, empty shells left to decay in the heat from the burning buildings.  The rest of the bodies, the parts beneath the skin, were mostly gone, though six remained, tied to polls staked in the ground around the central pile of decaying flesh suits left behind by the residents.  The bodies tied to the stakes were partially consumed, mostly missing from just below the rib cage down, leaving only bones, gnawed bare by small, sharp teeth.  The faces of the people tied to the polls, what little remained of their faces, were frozen in expressions of wide mouthed horror.  They had been staked, skinned, and eaten alive - I knew without needing to witness it myself.  Among those on the stakes were a man, a woman and four children, the invaders having devoured an entire family alive, showing no compassion for the women or even the children.  I swallowed back the urge to vomit that was rising steadily in the back of my throat, and followed Brutal who was making his way around the bodies and toward the other side of the town, the side that bordered the ocean.  I knew what he was going to look for, and I think we both suspected what we would find.

The smell of rot faded quickly as we drew closer to the ocean, and for that I was thankful.  That smell, that of rotting flesh, would forever haunt my dreams, as would the sights that accompanied it.  I hoped that Brutal would not make us trace our route back through the town, for I had no desire to witness again that which I had already seen.  I didn't have the stomach to look upon it a second time.

We pressed on.  The scene at the beach was much as we'd expected.  There were the telltale signs of battle, blood upon the sand, hundreds of intermingled foot prints, but there was something else as well.

“What are they?”  I asked, looking at a set of large indents in the ground.  I knew what I thought they were, but I felt certain that my guess must be wrong as they were far larger than they should have been.

“Tracks,” Brutal confirmed what I had thought, leaving me more confused than reassured.  “They look like Black Drake, only larger, and of a slightly different variety.”  He bent over, placing his entire hand in one of the indents made by a single claw on one of the prints.  “Black Drakes have four claws, and this print has a fifth here, further out from the others. This is about twice the size of any print I've heard of, and three times the size of any I've seen with my own eyes.”

The confirmation startled me.  I had never seen a Black Drake myself, but I knew it to be the largest of the Drake species, or at least I had thought it to be the largest of the drake species, with a single specimen standing seven or eight times as tall as a man and long enough to fill a massive a dining hall.  I wasn't sure what it implied to find such tracks leading up to the destroyed village, but I was certain it wasn't good.  I wondered if the creatures we'd fought on board the Old Boy had somehow brought the monstrosity with them, or if it had come after the fact.  Both options seemed unlikely, as I hadn't seen the creature with the strange monsters that attacked our ship, and I had never heard of such an attack on our lands before.  I looked to Brutal, and there was a hard set about his face that made me think he was formulating some idea of his own.

“Where do you think it came from?”  I asked him after a moment of silence.  His black eyes shifted to mine.

“I think our friends from the Old Boy brought this monster with them when they came.”  He stated it as obvious, and I shook my head in negative, not agreeing with the older Broken Sword.

“We didn't see it when they attacked, and surely if they had such an ally with them they would have used it when they sacked our boat.”  I told him my own conclusions, hoping he would see the reasoning as clearly as I did.

“Unless the creature was their boat, Noble.”  I flinched at his words, almost as if he'd physically hit me.  “Think of the craft they traveled on, how it seemed to be made of bone and flesh, and you didn't see the figure head, but it was like the head of a great drake.  I think they've formed some type of bond with the monster, and used its body as a craft to cross the deep seas into places normal ships shouldn't sail.”

Brutal's theory was strange, but it had its merits.  I had, indeed, never seen a boat such as the one our adversary at sea had piloted, and it did explain where the giant monster had come from.  A few things, though, seemed not to fit into Brutal's theory.

“What about the cannons that were mounted in the hull of the enemy ship, and what of the sails?”  I asked, remembering the deadly accuracy with which those cannons had been fired only too clearly, and the glow of the blue fire against the fabric of the sails.

Brutal shook his head.  “You're not thinking things through clearly, boy.  Those weren't sails, but wings bent above the deck and held in place to harness the wind for sailing, and red drakes can shoot fire, so maybe they've harnessed that ability to their advantage as well, and used the drake's fire for cannons.”

“Alright, I'll concede the point about the wings,” I said after a moment, trying to recall the actual shape of the “sails” but not being able to.  “But that just raises more questions.  If the creature has wings, why not fly across the sea?  ...and what of the cannons that fired from the rear?  Certainly there is no drake that shoots fire from its rear?”  Doubt still remained to me, possibly because I didn't wish to accept such a terrible truth, or possibly because I had always been one to be filled with questions.  Kye had once told me that was an aspect of my personality she liked.  I smiled to myself, despite the situation, when I remembered her.

“We could not see the cannons that fired at us clearly, so I can't say for certain what truly transpired there, but your other questions is much easier to answer.  Black Drakes have wings but don't fly.  They're too large to get their massive bodies off the ground with their small wings.  They can glide for short periods of time, but they must travel on the ground for the most part.  That is why they've been hunted nearly to extinction in these lands,” Brutal explained.

It made sense, though there was still no sure answer.  We were guessing at things that we did not fully understand.  “Where did they go after they finished with the townspeople?”  I voiced my next thought.

“I don't know how long they were here, but when they'd finished with the town, I'd say no more than a day ago, maybe a little less, they returned to sea," Brutal walked down the beach, pointing to another huge set of tracks that seemed to be facing off into the ocean.  “They'd obtained whatever they hoped to get here, and left the way they came.”  He paused for a moment before adding.  “I don't suppose you've changed your mind about going north before heading south to report to Lucidil?”

I shook my head firmly.  I still needed to get to Kye, perhaps more so than I had before.  I didn't know what danger was coming from the ocean, but I wanted to make sure Kyeia was safe no matter what.  “We'll finish our mission, and then secure transit south as fast as possible.”  I told the black-eyed warrior, knowing that my 'command' was only valid so long as he allowed it to be.

Brutal shrugged his massive shoulders, “Alright, we'll do things your way.  This situation though,” he waved his hand at the devastation behind us, “is getting more and more chaotic.  Trouble is stalking us like a hungry predator.”

I nodded my agreement, not sure what else to say about the horrors we had witnessed that day or Brutal's bleak statement, “Do you have any idea how far north we have left to go?”  I asked, hoping he would have been able to make some judgment based upon the village, despite its traumatized state.

“We're back inside human lands, but I'd not say by very far.  You can tell by the fortifications the town's folk had erected about their village.”  Indeed, the town had once been well fortified for such a small village, but the walls now lay in ruin.  “That means we still have a long trip north to make, but if we push ourselves we should be able to make it in just outside a week.  We still have a difficult river to cross, though, and that will prove a challenge, especially with our sneaky friend missing.”

I nodded once more, a foolish thought occurring to me.  I would need to warn the king's men of the danger coming from the sea.  It was an irrational thing for me to want to do, since I was no longer allied with king, but the king and his men might be able to create a defensive line at the shore if they were aware of what was coming.  What other hope did we really have?  I didn't know how many of these strange people from across the ocean would come, or how many of their giant drake-ships would sail to our shores, but I knew that if they came afield without opposition, they would be much harder to fend off.  To me, that meant I would have to find some way of warning the king, despite the fact that I was an enemy to the crown, and despite the fact that Brutal would certainly not allow me to freely do so.  Life had a way of growing ever more complicated.

We finished searching the town, gathering what few supplies we could find amidst the wreckage.  We managed to scrounge replacement scabbards, and the proper gear to clean and treat our badly abused weapons.  Travel supplies were more difficult to come by, but with our battle gear in working condition, I believe we both felt more secure, though we would have felt even better had we been able to replace the body armor that we'd lost to the depths of the ocean.  I'd turned away completely, I realized as I finished taking care of my sword, from how I'd begun life.  My days of being a bookkeeper were behind me.  I was now a man of the sword like all the other Knights of Ethan and Broken Swords, and there was no denying the change in me.  I felt most comfortable with a sword at my hip and my shifting cloak about my shoulders.  Lowin the lorekeeper's apprentice was gone, and Noble the Broken Sword had come into his own, whether I was happy about it or not.

We traveled night and day, stopping rarely to sleep or rest.  The miles fell away as we made our course northward, avoiding populated areas to the best of our ability.  Always I kept my eyes open and ears alert for a chance to give warning to the men of the king, so that they might know of the enemy from across the sea.  Coming from one who was to all appearances a member of their Black-Eyed Devils, perhaps they would take my words seriously, and see that my message reached someone in a position to do something about my warning.  The opportunity, though, had not yet arisen for me to send word.  Brutal was intent upon making our journey as fast and stealthy as possible.  The few times we did stop, we did so to hunt for game or to make a brief stop in a small town to buy supplies.  The towns, for the most part, went out of their way to appear empty as we entered, but Brutal was ever able to coerce the people into selling him what was needed for our time on the road.  They, of course, begrudged him every item he bought, but he always paid more than the going rate for what he took, and I respected his ability to keep his cool in front of the people.  In that way, he seemed like a great contrast to the violent tempered Lucidil, who had destroyed an entire shop, and possibly dispatched the owners, simply because they angered him.  I wondered, and not for the first time, why the often gruff natured fighter had been given the name 'Brutal' when it only fit his outward attitude.

Though I respected Brutal, and learned much from him as we traveled, there was always a tension between us, a hostility that bubbled just beneath the surface of the truce thrust upon us by Lucidil.  He was ever eager to teach and talk as we went, showing me the best ways to get the most from my weapons, both claw and sword, and teaching me how to use my body's natural talents in ingenious ways, but his lessons were always tinged with his dislike of me.  Brutal, for all that he was not a bad person, was the instrument of his ruler, Weaver, and did not wish to make important decisions for himself.  He was a man who did not want to be a leader, but a strong follower, and he did it well.  Privately I considered him a more apt leader than the man he followed, but Brutal scoffed at such ideas and became agitated any time I hinted at such a truth.  I knew that I, with my unusual strength and ability, nettled the older warrior by the pure act of my existence.  He saw potential in me, but he also viewed me as a direct threat to his position in Lucidil's army, despite the fact that I wanted nothing to do with the rebel leader or his plans.  Things between Brutal and me remained civil, but our sparring matches were heated, warmed by the fire of an animosity sparked by our vastly different views of the world.  Brutal was my companion on my journey to retrieve Kye, but I was certain there would come a time when we would stand on opposite sides of the field of battle.  I also knew that when that time came, one of us would have to die, because if we both were to live we would only come together again and again to fight.  I trained hard with the experienced warrior, and every time he had the best of me in our matches.  He was always a step ahead in his strategy.  He always had one more trick up his sleeve that I couldn't account for.  I learned, and was a far better swordsman and general fighting man for it, but he was ever my superior.

We were a little over a week on the road before we finally reached the Iol Adjot river valley.  We crested the top of a large hill and below us only a few miles away a massive river flowed, white and frothing in its haste to cut a path through the land.  I had never seen the great Iol Adjot, and so it took me by surprise just how immense the river was.  Many times I had heard rivers described as “ribbons of water laid upon the land,” but if a normal river was a ribbon, this one was a sash, two to three times wider than any I'd seen before.  I understood, as I stared out over that violent run of water, how the Iol Adjot had stood as a natural border between two neighboring peoples for so long before either had attempted to encroach upon the other's lands.  Few men could ever wish to lead an army across such a swift flow.

“Now comes the most difficult portion of our journey; we must find a way across the river, and with any luck, one that will see us alive on the other side,” Brutal said, pulling my attention away from the hypnotic surge of the water.

Looking at the mighty river I was at a complete loss for ideas as to how we might get across.  The project that would be involved in simply creating a rope drawn ferry would be dangerous enough that I doubted anyone would have bothered.  Making a little bit of cash to ferry folks across the river wasn't worth risking your life to the white rapids of the Iol Adjot.  My attention shifted to the fortified bridge that stood at the end of the road on which Brutal and I were standing, a massive stone structure wide enough to ride six carriages abreast that stretched the expansive width of the river.  It stood as a testament to the skills of whoever had designed it, and more than likely, I thought, a monument to those who must have died in its construction.  Each end of the bridge had a tall gate structure with a wall that stretched out some fifty feet to either side of the entrance along the edge of the river.  I guessed that these structures housed a barracks so that the bridge could be guarded both night and day and replenished with fresh men as needed.  The gate itself stood over thirty feet tall and looked to be made of heavy forged iron, the same material used in the portcullises of many fortresses.  With a gate set at either end of the bridge, even if an enemy force made it through one, they would have to break through the second gate and would be forced to launch an attack on the relatively narrow span of the bridge, which would be risky under any circumstances.  It was a brilliant defensive structure, and therein lay the majority of our problems.

From our distance, it was difficult to make out exactly how many men were on watch in the valley below, but I could make out the telltale traces of movement enough to know that the number was considerable, at least at the gate nearest us, and I guessed the numbers would be equal on the other side of the river.  Despite Brutal's bluster about us attacking head on, and that had been when we still had Silent with us, I wasn't sure it was possible for three, and almost certainly not two, Broken Swords to fight their way through both of the fortified positions.  However, it seemed equally unlikely that we would find another way across the river any time soon.

“Perhaps the other bridge isn't so heavily guarded.”  I suggested, remembering that there were two such bridges across the Iol Adjot, but Brutal shook his head.

“That's the north bridge. It runs closer to the capital, Kreo.  That bridge will be more heavily guarded than this one,” he stated, sounding indifferent.  The older warrior didn't seem fazed by the number of guards, or the amount of fortification at the bridge, leading me to believe that he had known if not exactly, then approximately, what we would find upon reaching this point.  Silence descended upon us for a time.

“We're going to have to go straight through,” Brutal said after a few moments.

“That would be suicide.  There are too many of them.”  I replied, but while the words were true, there was no real weight behind them.  We didn't have any other option that I could see.

“Indeed,” he replied, surprising me with his candor.  “So I guess we'll just have to fight better than normal.  I'm up to it, you?”

I looked at my travel companion, and noted the way his black eyes sparkled with seeming glee.  He was honestly looking forward to the fight, though I couldn't guess why.  “I'd better be,” I said, trying to instill confidence in my voice.  This would be my first fight against humans, and the thought sickened me a little.  I didn't have any desire to kill men who were fighting for what they believed in.  I could walk away, I realized, and leave my mission behind.  I didn't have to do what I was setting myself up to do, but what would happen to Kyeia then?

“This is war, Noble.  People die in wars, and those soldiers didn't train to be fighting men so that they could live long and peaceful lives,” Brutal said, as if reading the reason for my hesitance in my expression.  “I don't pretend to understand what you're fighting for, but if it is important enough to have brought you this far, isn't it important enough to take you the rest of the way?”

I thought about that for some time before nodding.  Kyeia was important enough to fight all the armies of the world.  I hoped it wouldn't come to that, but I could not rest while her future was uncertain.  “You're right,” I said quietly, taking a deep breath to settle my nerves.  “Let's go.”

“Not so fast.”  Brutal said, putting a hand on my shoulder just as I was about to take my first step down the road.  “We're not going to walk the road, and we're not going to attack while there is still light.  Why give the enemy all the advantage?  We will make our way through the woods, in the dark, when we are most difficult to see, and we will come upon them like hungry phantoms in the night and devour their numbers before they even know what has befallen them.”

The older warrior was good at maintaining a level head, and better at finding a way to turn any situation to his advantage.  Again I found myself thankful that he was with me.  Had I been by myself, I don't know what I might have done to try and get across the river, but I probably would not have been successful.  With Brutal, I at least stood some chance, though I didn't doubt it would be a hard fight, one that bordered on the impossible.  The older warrior turned to the tree line and started for it, moving down the hill into the valley as he did so.  I followed him in the relative darkness of the deep woods, and together we traced a path toward our target.  As we drew nearer, the sound of the river became louder and louder, and I realized, with some satisfaction that the chaotic rumble of the water cutting through the rock would also be an advantage to us when we attacked.  Not only would we be nearly invisible in our cloaks, but the noise would make us impossible to detect audibly.  The bridge was only twenty feet above the water, and so would be blanketed in the roar of the river.

We found a safe place to bide our time, spying on the fortifications throughout the day.  The guards did not come to the outside of the bridge at all.  There were two towers on either side of the gate, one from each side facing out in either direction.  These were manned with three archers each, for a total of twelve archers.  Just beyond the first portcullis, for the gate on our side of the river had two, stood six armed and armored guards, and beyond them stood more, though they were hard to identify from our place of concealment in the woods.  The guards changed out every four hours like clockwork, and there was never a moment when the numbers seemed to lessen.  What lay beyond the gates was anyone's guess, but there were no external doors to the wall or gate that Brutal or I could make out, only the portcullis provided access to the other bridge beyond.  There did seem to be doors into the walls between the first portcullis and the second, but getting even that far would be a challenge if the guards never raised the gate.

“What are the odds of them opening the gate to allow travelers through?”  I asked Brutal after we'd watched the gate with little action for several hours.

“The area beyond the bridge is still considered contested territory.  Only those with the express permission of the king can pass through.  We could wait here for weeks or months without another soul passing this way,” came the disappointing answer.  I had thought to sneak through when the gate opened, or to at least to pierce the first portcullis without needing to fight, but it seemed that such an opportunity was unlikely.  We did not have months of time to spend waiting for someone to open the gate for us.

“How are we to get past the wall?”  I asked, looking at the intimidating gate that barred our path.

“We'll scale it.”  Brutal answered.

My eyes opened wide.  “The hand holds appear few and far between, and that wall must be nearly forty feet high.  If we are seen in mid climb, we will be defenseless.”

“Well, if that isn't motivation to move carefully, then I don't know what is.”  Brutal's tone held a sardonic edge that angered me.  “Unless, of course, you've thought of a better way to get through two layers of cast iron portcullis, and several groups of sentries?”

I shook my head in negative reply, at a loss for a better solution.  Despite having put a good deal of thought into the matter, I could think of no clear cut way to get across the river, or to make it past the gate.  My eyes coursed over the smooth wall of the first gate.  It had been designed to make climbing difficult, but Brutal and I were equipped with hands that gave us an advantage over the average person intent upon scaling the border.  Our claws could find hand holds where others could not, and could create them in places where they did not exist.  The real trick would be making the climb without attracting attention.  There would be, by necessity, a good deal of noise involved in the climbing, though we would have the full sound of the rushing Iol Adjot to cover that up.  The next complication would be managing to stay unseen while climbing up the wall.  Our cloaks and the cover of night would go a long way toward rendering us invisible, but Brutal did not have one of the newer cloaks as I did, and he would be far more visible that I would when framed against the stone.  It would take only one guard seeing us to change a difficult task into a nearly impossible one.  If we were caught during our climb, we might not make the other side of the river, no matter how fiercely we fought.

“We'll make our attempt two hours after dark,” Brutal's voice held a firmness that I knew meant he'd made his final decision on the matter.  It was time for us to wait.

The day went fast, despite the fact that our surveillance of the guarded fortifications was unfruitful.  No easier path appeared while we waited, but I had not anticipated that one would.  A grim feeling of dread was building in my gut, sitting like a lead weight there, trying to pull me down.  As the hour of action neared, I began to worry whether or not I would be able to do what was necessary.  I didn't speak with Brutal about my fears.  The older warrior sat confidently in our hiding place, watching the walls for any opportunity that might arise.  As I looked at him, I wondered whether he felt any hesitance at all regarding what we were about to attempt.  If anything, I thought, he seemed to have a glow of anticipation about his person, as though he were genuinely excited about the prospect of the battle ahead.  I tried to allow his calm to flow into me, but it wouldn't happen.  For all that I was already a traitor to the king, I knew that I would soon be taking the most definitive steps in that direction.  I was about to embark upon a mission that would put me in the line of the king's men, and probably force me to take their lives.  Even if we succeeded in crossing the first wall unseen, what were the odds that the second wall would be so easily passable?  The situation was dire.

Brutal stood up from where he had been sitting, stretching his well-rested muscles with all the finesse of a cat after waking from a nap.  I stood as well, feeling the thrum of my heartbeat course through my body, providing seemingly ceaseless energy to my limbs.  Whether or not my mind was ready for action, my body certainly was.  Every muscle and every reflex was acute to the point of agitation, filled with a surging rush of power that was difficult to quell.  I knew that it was time to go.

Brutal spoke not a word as he left our hiding place, choosing simply to slip into the cover of the woods, knowing that I would follow.  He seemed suddenly distant, and I felt that his good humor had changed.  I fell in behind him, choosing my footfalls cautiously despite the roar of the river that deafened all around it, making sure no amount of noise I might make would reach the ears of the guards on the wall.  After a moment, I moved closer to the older Knight, trying to better gauge his mood.  It was difficult to judge, but I thought, just for a second, that he looked troubled.  I wondered if he'd had one of his ill-boding premonitions.  I thought to ask him, but decided better of it at the last moment.  It was too late to turn back.

Near dark, the guards in the towers had lowered fires down the front of the wall and lit torches hidden in the stonework.  These torches seemed to burn brighter than mere wood burners should, casting a large aura of light over the stones and the ground before it.  That sphere of light represented our first obstacle.  We would not be able to tackle the wall head on without walking directly into that circle of light, and neither of us was eager to be seen before we'd even begun climbing.

The dark-eyed warrior led us to the edge of the intimidating fortification, the furthest point from the light, but also furthest from the bridge.  The area was, though, still cast in deep shadow, undisturbed by the exposing gaze of the torches over the bridge.  The noise at the wall's edge was a constant roar that would both aid and complicate our task.  Brutal and I could move without fear of being heard, but we also couldn't communicate short of yelling at one another.  I hoped that wouldn't prove a problem, but I feared that it might.  Whether my companion had thought of that at all I did not know, but he moved with a purpose.

Brutal latched on to the wall, his claws digging places for his hands to hold.  He reached high up on the smooth surface, clawing his feet in and dragging himself upward with apparent ease.  I followed suit, reaching high to get a hold, my claws sharpening in expectation of the work that needed to be done.  I found that the stones, while difficult to pierce, were far from impossible to penetrate.  I shadowed the older warrior up the steep climb, keeping myself out of his immediate line of travel so that, in the event we were seen, we couldn't both be disposed of in one attack from above.  After a short distance, Brutal began to shift directions, leading us to the side, rather than straight up.  He seemed to have a destination in mind as he went, and I was more than happy to simply follow his lead.  We were above the level of the lights, the wall sconces holding them having been faced downward to shine light on anyone approaching the bridge.  The fortifications had been constructed in such a way that scaling, while not impossible, was not a likely form of attack, and that gave us some advantage.

We were three quarters of the way over the imposing obstacle when disaster struck.  Nearing the top, my worries about the ascent were just beginning to subside when a face peered down over the wall, a wide smile lighting it, though that smile soon faded as the owner of the face saw the two shadowy shapes of Brutal and myself slinking up the stone surface.  I didn't hear the words yelled to call warning, and I doubted Brutal did either, but only a few seconds later the first arrow swept down the side of the wall toward my companion, who tore it from the air and tossed it back up towards his attackers.  It didn't cause any damage, but the show of power cowed them, if only momentarily.  I saw Brutal dig in his feet and clawed hands, and a breath later, he threw himself vertically across the remaining gap to the place where our enemies waited.  As he passed the lip of the wall, his hand shot down, catching the stone and swinging him to the top in a brilliant display of athletic coordination.  Even as he landed his body blurred into motion, becoming a haze of death.

An arrow bounced from the stone a few inches in front of me and skittered uselessly from my cloak, and I knew I had no more time to watch the older warrior.  I emulated his maneuver, digging my claws into the stone as vigorously as possible.  I tensed my muscles, and let my heart rate accelerate, the world seeming to slow all around me.  Up above me, two faces watched my actions, fear obvious in their features.  The muscles in my legs and arms compressed, I pushed with all my considerable might and sailed upwards.  To my surprise, the push was immensely effective.  The face of the wall sailed by me with alarming speed as I neared the top.  I lashed out with one clawed arm, grabbing for some hand hold as Brutal had done, but I could only do so with one arm as my other limb was forced to rake hard at the faces of my enemies who stood directly in my way, their swords raised in defense.  One guard fell back in a gout of blood, though the other stumbled backwards just in time to get outside of my reach.  I was close to sailing past my intended landing zone.  My right hand finally anchored firmly in the rock of the wall, twisting my momentum with vicious force, and it was all I could do to bring my legs under me before I landed on the platform amidst my enemies.  Around me men were drawing their weapons, a slow motion dance of futility, I knew, for with both Brutal and myself standing ready our human opponents stood little chance.

I rode the wave of my momentum, descending upon my enemies with every ounce of speed and precision I could muster.  I would rip the throat from one, only to have to spin to dodge the blade of another, before righting myself and bringing that new attacker down with a powerful thrust from my razor sharp claws.  The men fell about me in a rain of red mist, not even hitting the ground before the man at their side joined them.  The killing was a sickening process that soured my stomach, but I reminded myself that I fought for Kyeia, and that if I didn't fight, my opponents would not hesitate to strike me down.  There were so many attackers that I barely had time to consider the ramifications of my actions.  I was in a position where I had to kill those attacking me, or die myself.

A tremendous ring sounded in the air, reverberating through the world so loudly that it shook me from my quickened state and nearly cost me my life.  I managed to draw my sword and parry a well-aimed blow at the last moment, spinning backwards from my opponent with all the skill and grace I could muster.  This brought me directly into another group of soldiers, but by that time I had recovered enough to speed myself back up.  Even so, as fast as I was, I was hard pressed to turn aside all the weapons aimed at my body.  I missed one blade entirely and it skittered across the magically resilient fabric of my cloak, mere inches from my left ear.  I turned with a vengeance, striking out hard with my sword and splitting the man who had struck me in two with the force of my blow.  The other men fell back at the ferocity, some of them visibly shaking where they stood.  Brutal's voice pierced the roar of the water, competing for air space with the river and the dreadful ringing that reverberated all around us.

“They've struck the alarm.  The guards from the other side of the bridge will be coming.  Get to ground level!”  I responded without even thinking about it.

Those guards nearest me dove out of my way as I charged between them, thrashing at any foolish enough to come within range, and threw myself from the gate wall, inward, toward the bridge below.  The fall was long and I realized only once it was too late that I probably should have tried to slow my descent somehow.  I hit the ground with a jolt, letting my knees collapse into the fall and rolling outward with the force of my impact.  I felt the bone in my right shoulder crack as it struck pavement, and my roll turned into more of a lopsided flop.  The wind was knocked from my lungs, and the world went dark for the briefest second as my body struggled to overcome the damage I was doing to it.  My head was just clearing as I heard the sound of Brutal's feet striking pavement, obviously from somewhere around mid-wall.  In a moment he was at my side, hauling me to my feet.

“Expedient path, Noble, but perhaps not the most graceful.  Are you ready to fight?”  His words were hazy in my brain, though they became clearer towards the end.  I nodded dumbly, reaching for my sword only to realize that I had dropped it in my plummet from the wall.  “I hope so.”  Brutal added, and I heard the sounds of a portcullis being raised and swords being drawn.

My mind was sharpening quickly, and the haze faded even as I felt the bone in my shoulder righting itself.  Kye's gifts, her magic eyes, were working their magic on my damaged body.  There were at least another twenty guards coming for us, and my sharp ears could make out the sounds of a gate being raised at our back.  That meant we would soon be surrounded.  Time was not in our favor.  I charged forward, my heart racing faster and faster, carrying me to the deepest thresholds of my ability to accelerate myself.  I crashed into the center mass of guards about to come under the rising portcullis, using my body's weight and momentum to throw them all into chaos.  I got a glimpse of Brutal following closely behind me, his sword killing two guards before my impact had even rippled through all of them.  I lashed out with my claws, tearing the sword arm from one guard, and grabbing his weapon before it could fall.  The blade was too light, but it would give me added range that was necessary in a battle against so many opponents.  I pressed my attack, fending off blows that were coming far too slowly to hit me as I moved, but might still pose a problem if I wasn't careful.  The sword I was using bent and wavered at the stresses imposed on it by my violent movements.  It was not crafted with such speeds in mind, and was showing fatigue in every swing and contact it made.

I dispatched guards as fast as I could, my borrowed weapon being far too flimsy to give me the control I needed to be more effective.  Finally, the cheaply made blade had taken enough abuse and it shattered against the armor of one of the gate guards.  I let the fragments scatter, propelling myself at the guard whose armor had finished my weapon and ripping most of his head off with one swipe of my arm.  Without the added range of a sword, I would have to get closer to my enemies, but at least I wouldn't have to worry about my weapon failing me.  There was a shimmer of movement behind me, and I saw a third figure dressed in a shifting cloak, one like Brutal's, join the fight.  The figure came in fast and strong, leading with a drawn sword.  My first inclination was to think that Silent had come, and was joining with Brutal and me in battle, but the cloaked and hooded figure charged straight for Brutal, coming in for the kill before he'd even known what hit him.  I disengaged from my own fight and dove at the attacker.  I missed entirely but my motion was sufficient to attract Brutal's attention and distract the other cloaked figure long enough to put them on even fighting ground.  I rolled to my feet, dispatching another guard as I came back to a ready position.  Brutal was engaging the newcomer, who moved with lethal grace and skill.  I had been confident in Brutal's ability to dispatch any opponent one on one, but as I watched the interplay between the two fighters, I began to see that Brutal might not be able to handle this new adversary on his own.

I was about to dive in and help, but the press of guards on us was getting heavy again, despite their slowly dwindling numbers.  I shifted my momentum and charged the human guards again, tearing them apart as quickly as I was able.  Brutal did not have the time to deal with another threat, so I would have to keep the field of battle clear for him while he battled the Knight of Ethan that was attacking us.  We had been foolish not to consider the possibility that the king would have at least one of the Knights stationed at this outpost.  It had been a dangerous oversight.  I only hoped that it was just the one, and that we would not be overrun by our king-loyal brethren.

My task of keeping the guards at bay was made easier by their hesitance to attack the other two cloaked figures fighting in the relatively narrow space between the two sets of portcullises.  They could not be sure, in the confusion of blurring movement and heated battle, exactly which fighter was fighting on their behalf, and they did not wish to injure their own ally, an ally that stood between them and certain death.  They kept their distance from the two fighters in shifting cloaks, and I used that to my advantage.  I flashed from one to the next, slashing a definitive strike against one before moving on to the next, and they fell quickly, unable to organize a defense effective enough to counter my superior speed and strength.  I killed twelve of them before their lines broke and the survivors began to flee back into the fortifications.  It was not a proud battle for me, slaughtering those barely able to hold a defense, and not for them, retreating so early in the fight.  I heard the sound of a wooden bar being dropped into place behind the door, and then it was only Brutal, the unknown Knight of Ethan, and myself left on the bridge to fight.  However, coming from the far end of the bridge, I could hear the sound of armor clinking, meaning that reinforcements would soon arrive, and their presence would probably bring the few guards remaining on our side of the bridge, hidden behind the locked door, back out to battle.

I looked to Brutal and our shifting attacker. They were locked in a fierce battle, blades and claws flashing with murderous intent.  I didn't want to join that fight and have a part in the killing of a Knight of Ethan, but Brutal was hard pressed.  I could see it in the way he kept giving ground, and the way his attacks were shifting from offensive to entirely defensive maneuvers.  Little time remained for the dark-eyed warrior, but I would be no help as I was.  I needed my sword.  I flashed down the bridge, searching for my missing blade, and found it in short order, near where I had initially fallen.  The familiar weight in my hand brought with it a surge of confidence, and I turned back to the battle I was about to join.  To my horror, Brutal was on the ground, his sword several feet from him and his attacker looming above him, sword point at his neck.

“Who sent you, traitor?”  A female voice cracked from beneath the hood, and it struck me as being immediately familiar.

Brutal spat at the ground, and smiled grimly, “We taught you well, dearie, I'll give you that much, but you'll have no information from me.”

She raised her sword to strike, the blade flashing in the summer sun.

“No!”  I called out, realizing in that instant whose voice I was hearing.  The distraction worked just long enough for Brutal to roll himself out of harm's way and back to his feet.  He was going for his sword, but I ran forward, my own weapon in hand.

The figure in the shifting cloak, the woman who had attacked us, turned to face me, and my guess at her identity was confirmed.  It was Malice, as hard-eyed and fiercely beautiful as ever.  When she saw me, her sword point dipped.  A look of shock filled her expression and I saw her mouth form my name, “Lowin.”  I could not have stunned her any more if I had struck her at that moment.

Brutal was on his feet, sword readied and coming up behind her fast.  In her shock at seeing me alive, Malice had completely forgotten about her fallen foe.  I charged forward, my body straining against the limits of its potential.  Brutal's sword stood poised, ready to unleash death, and I came on, uncertain of the right thing to do, but knowing that I could not allow Brutal to kill Malice.  My sword brushed Brutal's, throwing it wide, even as Malice stood in stunned silence, staring on as events unfurled about her.  Brutal, too, was surprised, his eyes going wide as his sure kill was turned aside.  His black stare fell upon me, full of loathing driven by a deep sense betrayal, and I could see even in my slowed perception of time, the look of pure murder flowing into those black orbs.  Brutal had never fully trusted me, and I had just given him all he needed to brand me a traitor.  Without another thought I reversed the grip on my sword hilt and struck Brutal down, drawing my blade, with all the force and speed I could muster, across my newest traveling companion's neck.  There was a mist of red, a final look of shock on his face, and then Brutal's head and body fell separately, leaving me standing above them, my sword coated in the blood of an ally.  There was a surge in the air about me, as though some greater force had been unleashed through my act of murder, and I staggered back.

I looked down at my sword, still in the same position, at the bottom of the arc that had cleaved Brutal's life from him.  Blood ran down its length, some of it from the people on the wall, but most of it from the fresher kill, the blood of my most recent teacher.  A single drop fell to the ground, and I thought, despite the rush of the water, I could hear the sound of it hitting the stone, thrumming like the beat of a massive drum.  I had betrayed the king.  I had betrayed the king's enemy.  I was a man without a place.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a moment later that same hand was pushing back the hood on my cloak, and Malice was in front of me, gazing into my eyes, her dark orbs shining with barely contained tears as she looked upon her lost friend.  I looked away from those honest eyes, knowing that if she knew my story, she would not look at me the same way any longer.

“By all that is good, it is you, Lowin, and look at your eyes!  They're amazing.”  Her voice was soft, as it had only ever been when we were in private, and I felt her hand against mine.  “You've already taken your first changes, how did this...”  She broke off in mid-sentence and I could hear the sound of horsemen approaching, armor clinking behind us, hooves on stone.  The whole battle had only taken a few minutes, and yet I had come through another shaking change.  “Be silent, I will do the talking.”  My dear, lost friend whispered to me as the knights approached.

“Malice,” The lead rider said as he approached, though I didn't look up to face him.  Instead I sat numbly staring at the body that lay before me.  Brutal's cold, dead eyes still held the look of betrayal that had flashed in them at that last moment before my sword had taken the light from the darkness forever.

“This is a member of the Knights of Ethan, he had been bewitched by an enemy of the crown, but he broke the enthrallment and dispatched the one binding him.  He is an ally,” I heard Malice explaining, and afterward there was a heated debate between the two, but I didn't bother to take notice of it.  Whatever happened, I felt lost.  Some time passed, and I felt a tug on my arm.  I looked up and saw that Malice was looking at me, an expression of expectation on her face.  I didn't know what she wanted, for I had not been listening, but I shook the excess blood from my sword and slid it back into my scabbard, knowing it would need to be cleaned more thoroughly later.  I drew up my hood, and whatever Malice had needed from me, this seemed to satisfy her.  She lead me away, amidst a sea of kinsmen on horseback, though many of them watched me closely, hands on the hilts of weapons, some with steel bared to moonlight, so that I might not mistake their intent.  I couldn't blame them.  Brutal and I had laid waste to many of them.

Brutal had not been a bad man.  In fact, he had been good to me despite our differences, and I respected him, might have even called him friend under different circumstances.  Now he was dead at my hands, betrayed by one he trusted with his life.  I had made a hard decision, in that brief moment before Brutal was to kill Malice, and it would be one that I would have to live with for the rest of my days.  Malice lived, and Brutal did not.  Had I not acted, then Brutal would live and Malice would not.  The only way I could find comfort in my decision was to tell myself that I would have had a much harder time justifying letting Brutal kill Malice.  All the world was a landscape of confusion, a place where there were no wrongs or rights; just fighters with different ideas, willing to kill to achieve their vision of peace.  I was weary of it all, and tired of not having a place amidst the chaos.

I was vaguely aware that I was being led into a room, small, but comfortable, and that Malice was having another strongly worded debate with someone, though I didn't know who.  There were hard words between them, but in the end Malice won through, and the guards left my presence.  I found myself alone in a room with the black-eyed warrior that had been my teacher all through my training.  I had feared her at first, but, in the end she had proven to be my most trusted friend.  Despite myself, I felt a surge of joy that she lived, and with it, a surge of guilt that I had killed my traveling companion so that she might do so.  She led me to the bed and bade me sit down, which I did mechanically, then she took a seat in a chair across from me.

“Tell me how you've come to be here as you are now," and while it may have been a command to some, I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was only asking for my story, and that she would not force what I didn't want to say.  I suddenly found that I wanted to tell her everything.  Indeed, that I needed to tell her everything, lest I die from keeping it all contained within me.  And so, with a heavy heart, I told her of all that had happened to me since the time I had taken the eyes of Kyeia.

“What will you do now?”  She asked quietly once my story had run its course, and I was unendingly thankful that there was no recrimination in her tones.  If there had been hate, or disappointment in her voice, I was not sure I could have gone on.  Too much had happened, and too many doubts plagued my mind.  To find one more friend lost would have been the final straw.

I shook my head.  “I don't know.  I must find Kyeia.  Beyond that, I am uncertain.”

“I know you don't want to hear this, Lowin, but have you considered the possibility that Lucidil lied to you about Kyeia?”  Malice's voice was soft with compassion.  “I've not heard of a Bound One surviving before, and no one has told me anything about Kyeia still being alive.  If it were true, it would be amazing, but....”

I had, in fact, considered that possibility many times, but I could not think of a single way in which Lucidil would profit from telling such a lie.  He wanted my help, and lying to me, especially about such an important thing, would not endear his cause in my heart.  If he were to lie to me about Kye, I would never forgive him, and would certainly never aid him.

“He has nothing to gain from lying to me about this,” I told Malice after a moment of reflection.

She didn't protest, and I could tell by the set of her face and the look in her eyes that she agreed with me.  There was also something else hidden in her eyes, some deeper consideration that I could not read.  After a few moments of silence, my long-estranged friend spoke again.

“The king will want you for questioning.”  There was a subtle strand of worry in her words, “As soon as news of what has transpired here arrives, he will send others to take you into custody.  If you're going to go on, we'll need to leave soon, tomorrow morning at the latest.”  I caught the implication of her phrasing, whether she intended me to or not, though I believed that she did intend it.

“We?”  I asked, though I didn't need to.  Her intentions were clear.

“I know where you're going.  I've been to the fortress-villa before.  I can lead you there far better than anyone else, and I don't intend to let you go off on your own.”  She stood up from her chair and walked across to the bed where I was sitting, placing a hand on my shoulder.  “You and I, Lowin, we're alike.  I want to help you.”

I smiled for a moment, but then shook my head in a sharp negative.  “If you go with me, you'll be a traitor to the king.  The way I go now leads only to more trouble...”  ...and death. I added this last, silently in my head.

Malice sat down on the bed at my side, and leaned against me, her weight seeming slight against the powerful new body I possessed, a stark contrast to how it had seemed months before, when we had last been so close.  “I listened to your story, and I have felt your pain reflected in myself.  Long have I questioned the actions of my king, privately, but now I have a chance to see for myself.  I need to know what is happening, to know if Kyeia is really still alive, and what that means to our kingdom.  I am tired of lies and half-truths, tired of the politics and foolish sacrifice.  Let us go find the truth together.”

I shook my head again.  “You don't know what you're getting yourself into.  I am a rebel of two forces.  I have no one to turn to when this is over, Malice.  Once I have Kyeia, I will have to find my own way, for no one will want to take in a man who is an enemy to everyone.  Whether Lucidil wins or the king conquers, I will be a rebel in this world.”

“An enemy to them, but a friend to me.  That's what matters.  Besides, only the king's men know that you killed the other Broken Sword, how would Lucidil ever know?  You can take comfort in that, at least.”  Malice's tone was pleading.

“Lucidil has eyes everywhere.  He will know what has transpired here as fast, if not faster, than the king will,” I told her, and I believed it to be true.  Lucidil had eyes in places only he knew, and they fed him all the information he would ever need.  What the king knew, so too did Lucidil.  Neither of us spoke of the third enemy I had mentioned, the riders of the strange dragon boat, as I think we both preferred not to think of what that darkness could mean.

I felt the brush of Malice's hair as she turned her face to me, so close that the warmth of her body flowed into mine.  Her voice was a whisper in my ear, “None of that matters in the least, Lowin.  I want to go with you, and I will do it.”  Her lips brushed my neck, and a shiver of exultation ran through my body, despite the emotional turmoil within me.  I turned my face to hers, meeting her eyes.  The dark eyes, those monstrous, beautiful, orbs I had once thought beyond the ability of portraying any emotion at all, were heavy with feeling, water-glazed with pent suffering.  Her lips pressed against mine, hungrily, but gently, and we laid back into the bed, her body covering mine as my arms encircled her.

Her fingers made deft work of the ties on my cloak, and I moved to do the same with hers, no thought of resisting the advances anywhere within me.  Together we drew ourselves from our layers of armor, slipping free of those walls of protection we put in place to guard ourselves from the world beyond.  One by one the shields fell to the ground in quiet whispers of cloth on floor, until we lay together, exposed and vulnerable in our peculiar flesh, muddled bodies of beast and human entangled in gentle embrace.  As I pierced her flesh and felt the warmth of her existence envelope me, I was overwhelmed by a great rush of energy awakening in the center of my being and reaching out to the black-eyed beauty who so gently invited me in.  Never had such fierceness been passed on so gently.  We were a battlefield of roses, doused in a storm of cherry blossoms, turbulent and tranquil.  As the world surged about us, the center of her female essence quivering tight about me, and I loosed my very being into her, I felt a profound change overcoming us both, though in her I knew it was most acute.  I knew not what it meant, for I was lost too deeply in the rush of the moment, but another great shifting had just taken place.

We lay in bed together, Malice's clawed hand resting atop my chest, and her body stretched next to mine.  If she had wanted to kill me, it would have taken but the slightest effort on her part, a mere flexing of her powerful hand, but her touch was no more than a ghost of pressure against my skin.  The world beyond our room went on, but we lay quietly together in the dark of the early morning, the chill air flowing freely from outside to caress our flesh.  I knew the moment couldn't last much longer, but I did not want to let it go.  It had been too long since I had been able to put my worries aside, even for a short time.  Malice stirred next to me, and I felt the pressure of her full breasts leave my arm as she sat up.  I looked at her, watching the movement of her body that should have been impossible to see in the darkness of the room, but was instead highlighted by my enhanced vision.  She was different than she'd been the night before, but I was hard pressed to place my finger on exactly what had changed.  In the low light, any physical changes were beyond my ability to detect, but to my acute senses, some aspect of my female friend had undergone a transformation.  She moved with a subtly enhanced grace, seemed just a little more alert, and any number of other minor little differences that were hard to describe individually.

“We should get moving,” she said softly, her voice little more than a whisper.  “There is an underground channel that runs out from this bridge and emerges several miles into the woods.  It's a route for gathering supplies or sending for aid in the event of a siege.  It is locked down, and only I and the captain of the guards know that it exists, so we should be able to leave that way without attracting notice.”

“Alright,” I agreed, forcing myself to leave the comfort of the bed.  My clothes were in a pile on the floor, and it took a few moments to separate my articles of clothing from Malice's.  It was obvious that Malice would not be dissuaded from her chosen course of action, and I found that I did not want to try to do so any longer.  I did not want to be responsible for dragging her into harm's way, but I couldn't deny that I preferred the idea of traveling with a friend, someone that I could trust.  We dressed quickly, donning our cloaks, and prepping our gear for travel.  It would be impossible to stock up on supplies without drawing notice, so we took only what was available in Malice's room; some dried meat and bread from a meal the day before, and some supplies for maintaining our weapons.

We exited the room with as much caution as possible, and found that, thankfully, the hallway beyond lay empty.  I don't know what Malice had expected, but I had been certain that danger would lay in wait just beyond the threshold of her room.  Life was making me paranoid, it seemed.  From Malice's room, she led the way through the interior of the gate-wall.  It was larger than it seemed from the outside, but still not a large place.  We passed some few guards on our route as they went about their patrols.  It was impossible to avoid them all, and they gave us looks filled with daggers as we passed.  I felt watched and pursued.  We went down several flights of stairs until I knew that we were a floor or two below ground, below even the level of the river beyond the outer perimeter of the gate.  I could not hear the water running beyond the wall facing the shore, but I knew it was there.  The air was dank and cool, flavored with unfamiliar mold and rot, but not all together unpleasant.  It had an earthy odor that reminded me somewhat of the deep woods during the rainy season.  We pressed on, going two more floors down, until we came to a long corridor with a hole in the wall.  At first glance the hole appeared to have been knocked through the brickwork of the structure, but it was in fact a well-crafted secret panel, designed to look like a flaw in the building.  It hung ajar, and Malice came to a stop quickly as we came within sight of the opening.  Her stillness alerted me to trouble before she even spoke.

“That shouldn't be open,” she whispered to me, as she began to edge her way through the gap in the stone.  I followed her, my hand on the hilt of my weapon.  Beyond the door was a small room, large enough for maybe four full-grown men with their arms stretched fully to either side of them.  The ceiling was low though, only a few inches above Malice's head.  At the far end of the room from the one Malice and I had entered was another door, a heavy metal structure with an intricate locking mechanism adorning the inside.  It was rigged so that a key must be inserted and turned, and then four crossbars, each twice as thick as a man's arm, would be disengaged from the their stone prisons all around the edge of the door frame.  It would be quite difficult to force an entry through that door, but I assumed that Malice had a key.

Unlocking the door, however, wasn't our most pressing issue.  Three guards stood in the room, two to either side of the door and one directly in front of us as we entered.  As we passed through the entry way, the two guards at the door drew their weapons, and the third guard stiffened and placed his hand on his sword’s hilt.

“You are not permitted to pass, Malice, by order of Good Captain Fintry.  If you turn back now, you'll have no trouble from us.”  The guard who had not yet drawn his weapon said.  There was fear in his eyes, mirrored by that in the eyes of the other two guards.

“Captain Fintry has no authority over me, Marts Trepin.  At this fortification I and I alone am the final word of the king,” Malice replied coolly, though I could sense a tension in her body, like a bow about to lose an arrow.  I grew tense as well.

“Captain Fintry has sent a report of your conduct with the traitor to the king for evaluation, and until his testimony is heard and the king rules on your guilt, you are not permitted to leave this post under any circumstance,” the guard Malice had called Marts Trepin replied, a smug smile coming to his face as he displayed his perceived advantage.  “So I recommend you take yourself back up to your quarters with your murdering friend there, and make yourself comfortable for a while.”  He drew his sword and waved it in Malice's face menacingly.

Behind us, and coming fast, I could hear the sound of clinking chainmail.  Other guards were on their way, probably sent after us by those we'd passed in the hallways.  The captain of the guard must have acted with some haste to make all the preparations he'd put into place.  The situation was quickly growing dangerous, and Malice and I were not in a good position to fight.  The area was too cramped for full mobility, though we would still have an advantage over our human adversaries.  They had to swing a sword to have an effective weapon, while we merely needed room to rake claws.  Their numbers, however, were enough to cause us trouble if things became heated.  Malice blurred into motion without giving any warning at all.  When she slowed again, she was holding Trepin's arm, detached from his body, his sword still gripped in the hand of the severed limb.

“I am now going to count to three,” Malice said, dropping the mess of flesh to the ground.  In the dim light of the torches in the room I thought, though it was hard to be certain in the dark, that her eyes flashed a deep shade of green.  “If I reach three, and any of you are still in this room, I will not be taking just arms.”  She had to speak loudly to make herself heard, because Trepin was now screaming in a shrill voice and trying to stem the flow of blood from his new stump.  The sound of armored men behind us was growing steadily louder, their pace probably hastened by the screams coming from the room we occupied.  The men in the room with us, even Trepin with blood gushing with every step, ran for the door as Malice uttered a single syllable.  “One.”  Before she reached "two," the room had been vacated, swords left to clatter on the floor by the terrified guards.

Malice wasted no time in drawing the key from a pack at her waist.  It was a large, intricately carved key, and she thrust it into the equally intricate lock and turned, disengaging the bars.  From behind us, I could hear voices, and curses, followed by the sounds of swords scraping free of leather.  I watched the door at our back as the way in front of us opened up, and Malice went through.  I followed her quickly, keeping my eyes to the rear and catching a glimpse of a guard with his sword drawn rounding the turn into the room even as we departed through the heavy steel door.  Malice pulled the door shut as soon as I was through and shoved her key into the exterior lock, turning it back to the locked position.  From beyond us the sound of solid metal bars sliding into place in the heavy stonework of the wall could be heard.  Malice slammed the key forward with all of her strength and twisted it until there was a loud crack of metal reaching its breaking point.  She tossed the remaining stub of key away.

It was pitch black beyond the basement of the gate wall, but I could hear the smile she was wearing in the dance of her voice, “Well, that ought to hold them for a while.  Let's not give them any advantage though.”  With that, she turned and began to run down the hidden path.  I followed her, depending on my eyes' ability to sort out edges and angles to keep me from running into things as I went.  Malice had, in less than a day, already become a fugitive thanks to me.  It seemed I had a way of getting those I knew into trouble.  If she was bothered by it, it didn't show in her demeanor as she led us down the dirt path of the gate's escape tunnel.  For better or worse, her fate was now inextricably tied to my own.  I just hoped I was not leading us both to our deaths.

We had cleared the caves and were topside again in less than an hour, both of us happy to leave the dark underground paths behind.  Neither of us had been certain exactly where the tunnel would return us to the surface. Even Malice, who'd known about the cave's existence, had not been sure how far, or exactly where, the tunnel ran.  As the early morning sunlight pressed down upon us and the first breaths of cool air brushed past our skin since we'd entered the gate the night before, my eyes met Malice's.  Her black eyes had changed profoundly since the night before.  Where once they had been deep pits of black, as were the eyes of most of the Knights of Ethan, they now were a vivid, dark green.  I was startled, to say the least, to see such a change in her.  She smiled at me, a confused expression on her face.

“Why are you staring?”  She laughed as she spoke, whether with relief at our freedom, or simply out of embarrassment at my sudden fixation, I couldn't be certain.

“I'm sorry, but... wait.”  I began to apologize, but I realized it would be easier simply to show her.  I drew my weapon from its scabbard, and glanced at the reflective surface to make certain that it was mirrored enough to do the trick.  The blade was not a great mirror, but I could see my own eyes reflected in the steel, so I held it up for Malice, “Look at your reflection.”

She stepped forward, cautiously, curious, but with a slight hesitation, as though I might show her something she didn't want to see.  When she finally was close enough to see her own reflection, she gasped, and reached out for my sword, taking it from my hand, and drawing the blade nearer her face.  “They're... green,” she whispered.  “They look like... his eyes.”  She didn't need to say who she was referring to.  I knew whose eyes she was seeing.  She was seeing the eyes of the Bound One who had died to give her his sight, just as I saw the eyes of Kyeia every time I looked in a mirror.  It had been a ghost I'd faced every time I shaved, and one that, even knowing she lived, still filled me with guilt and remorse.

“How did this happen?”  Malice asked, taking her gaze away from her reflection long enough to look at me, as if expecting that I would have some explanation.  I had none to offer.

I was at a loss for what to tell her.  In the night, as we'd lain together, I'd felt the change happening, but I had not anticipated what that change might be.  Indeed, I was almost as shocked as she was at the transformation, and more so at the implications.  Somehow, something that had happened between us had awakened her eyes, at least more than they had been.  I felt that we had made a significant discovery, quite unintentionally, but one that could have monumental consequences.  I didn't voice that suspicion.  “It happened last night, while we were....”  I let the words trail off, feeling a flush coming to my cheeks.  I was not so experienced in such things that speaking of them came easy to me.

Malice flushed back, and her eyes fell to the reflection in the blade again, “I thought I felt something, near the end, but I've only been with you, and only one other time, so I believed it was only a side effect of what we were doing.”  She stopped for a moment, a funny smile coming to her face.  “When we got out of bed this morning, I felt good.  Not just rested, and... Satisfied, but truly invigorated.  I can still feel it.  I am...”  She was searching for a word, but after a time she shrugged and simply said, “better, than I was.”

I wasn't precisely sure how to respond, so I smiled and said, “Well, that may be the best compliment I've ever received after a night in bed with someone.”

Malice's smile widened and she laughed, a sound I'd not often heard from her.  “You joke, but I think whatever is happening to me is a result of last night.  I don't understand what this is,” she pointed to her eyes as she handed my sword back to me, “but something is different in me.”

“They're beautiful,” I said, for I found myself drawn to the deep green in her eyes, the streaks of white lightning coursing from the white ring of her pupil outward.  It was a magical thing to watch, something easy to lose one's self within.

Malice turned her face aside, breaking the contact of our locked eyes, a slight blush dancing in her cheeks.  “We should get going,” she said gruffly, injecting the tones of command into her voice that I was most familiar with.  “We don't know how long that door will hold, or if the guards at the bridge will send a search party out to find us after we've passed.  Besides, once news of my betrayal and our subsequent escape gets to the king, if he really has sent Kye to the villa to be studied, he will surely know where we are going.  It would be best for us to get there first.  It will make doing whatever must be done easier if we are not expected.”

I let Malice change the subject, and nodded my agreement with her judgment.  Reaching Kye and freeing her from the villa was our priority, and we'd be better able to tackle our task with surprise still on our side.  “Do you know how long we must travel from here to get to the villa?”  I asked.

“I don't know exactly where we are at the moment, but we've come a good distance underground.  If the cave ran straight, as I believe it did, then we probably still have another two or three more days to go, if we keep a hard pace.  Again, this all depends upon how much distance we've managed to pass underground, and whether or not we were turned about in the cave system.  It's very hard to keep an orientation in complete darkness, while underground.”

“I guess we'd best get going,” I said, and Malice replied by looking to the sky to get her bearing by the position of the morning sun.  The sky was an ever constant companion, and if you were aware of the time of day or night, it could almost always lead you in the right direction.  Her bearings fixed, Malice started off through the thick pine-woods, and I followed close behind.  My quest to find Kye finally nearing a conclusion, I found myself filled with a mix of excitement, worry, and bitter fear.  I only hoped that Kyeia would be whole when I found her, not murdered or dissected for the benefit of research.  What was to happen after that, I didn't know.  I would need to find some way to get us all back across the Iol Adjot, if we were to return to our homeland.  That brought up another thought entirely, would it be worth it to return to our land?

I was leaving behind no friends in the land of my birth.  The lands beyond the human kingdom were said to be hard places to live, especially for those of human blood, but my life within the kingdoms of man would be no easier.  I had made two powerful enemies, and no real friends, other than the one that traveled with me.  I might find life beyond the lands of the king hard, but at least I would not be actively hunted, and what's more, I would be further from the coast and the creatures that rode the dragons across the sea.  I knew, at the very core of my being, that Brutal had been correct when he guessed that they were preparing an attack the likes of which our countrymen had never seen.  They would come, and the lands of men would have to unite or die.  Did I want to be a part of that battle?  The answer to that was simple; I wanted no part of it.  However, could I simply stand aside and let such a horrible enemy devour my people?  That was a question with far greater implications, one which was much more difficult to answer.  Of course, all decisions hinged on whether or not Kyeia was alive.  If the king's men had not found what they wanted, would they simply kill her? That thought blackened my mood.  I had a great deal to think about during the remainder of my trip.

“It's called Tuskavar.  It houses the king's heads of research in magic and medicine,” Malice explained to me as we sat not far beyond our destination.  There was a large expanse of open field between us and the villa, and little cover for us to take advantage of.  “Other than for those who have worked there, the House of Arts, as it is referred to when spoken of in public, is a deep secret.  Most of the Knights of Ethan have served as a guard there for a time, but outside of our order, and the chosen few researchers, guards, and servants who work there, express knowledge of the location and purpose of the villa is forbidden.  Those who speak of the villa are dealt with in short order.  As for what happens behind those walls, even the Knights know little.”

From our vantage, so far away, it was impossible to make out any details of the building.  There was a wall surrounding its perimeter, but it was not the imposing kind of wall one would expect on a building housing so many secrets.  Perhaps, I thought, the secrets were best guarded by seeming as though they were not being kept there at all.  The building, from what I could tell, looked like any other summer villa belonging to a wealthy noble or merchant with too much money on their hands.  The fact that it was located in a dangerous territory at the edges of contested land made it a poor location for such a summer retreat, but not necessarily an impossible one.  The structure had, until recently, not even been on land owned by the king, and that made it far more peculiar, and even less likely a location for a research center manned by the king's men.

“How many Knights can we expect to encounter there?”  I asked Malice, deciding it was time to know just how bad things were going to be.  Guardsmen were easy enough to deal with, but Knights of Ethan could pose a serious threat.

“When I was stationed there, there were six of us, but the king has been fortifying his outlying positions since the attack at Fell Rock.  That is why I was at the bridge-gate.  Normally that position is manned only by guardsmen, but the king felt a Knight of Ethan's presence would help secure that front.  I wouldn't doubt that he has added more Knights to the guard at Tuskavar as well.  The research that goes on there is considered very valuable, and he would not want to risk losing it.  I would say there would be at least eight Knights, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had placed ten or more.  Our numbers are thinned...”  She stopped for a moment, and then corrected herself, “Their numbers are thinned, recently, so any extra resources expended come at a great cost.”  My companion's reply was disheartening.  So many Knights in one location would be more than difficult to handle.

“Is there a back route in, something less guarded?”  I asked.

“I'm afraid not.”  Malice pointed at the iron front gate, “That's the only way into the compound, short of scaling the wall, and there are only two doors into the building itself; one at the front, and one at the back, each well-guarded.”

I looked at the wall stretched in a circle about the villa.  It was only about twelve feet high.  It would be no hard task getting over that particular obstacle, but what lay beyond would prove the greater challenge.  If we alerted the guards to our presence it would mean a hard fight all the way through to Kye, and we were not even sure where to find her once we'd gained entrance to the building.  If we had to search and fight, especially against Knights of Ethan, we would be in trouble.  The more time I took to think about the task before us, the more daunting it seemed.

“How are the patrols beyond the wall?”  I asked, fearing I knew the answer already.

“There is a constant perimeter march, and each guard stays within visual contact of the one in front of them the entire way around.  While I was there, there were two Knights of Ethan and sixteen standard guards on the march at all times.  If the line is punctured for any reason, help is immediately called to the fallen point, and half the guards on duty proceed to the area while the other half take up strategic points about the property, so as to avoid being caught unguarded from behind.  They are well versed in breaking in and out of formation and dispersing as needed.”

I cursed under my breath.  “This is going to be difficult.  What if we walked up to the gate and demanded entrance in the name of the king?”  I asked, certain it was a terrible idea, but curious.

“They would want to see your papers with the king's seal. When you failed to show them, the Knights at the gate - there are at least two of them - would take you into custody, and lock you in a cell until the nature of your intentions could be determined.”  Malice said, her voice a sigh of frustration at the situation.

“Even if it was someone they knew, like you?”  I pressed.

“It's procedure.  They would assume I was telling the truth, and would probably hear me out, but they would have to follow procedure anyway, and when they checked our credentials...”  She let her words trail off.

We fell quiet for a time, and I watched Malice pacing in the afternoon light, her cloak shifting and blurring the edges of her body, swimming with the colors of its peculiar magic.  After all the time I'd spent seeing the phenomenon, it was still impressive to watch in action.   A sudden thought struck me.

“Malice, do you know if they are researching the Lucidil cloaks in there?”  I pointed at the villa.

“Yes, they've been trying to improve them for years,” she answered.  “A man named Dian Froast is running the project currently.”

I smiled widely.  “Don't you think he would be interested in this new breakthrough our team of researchers down south has recently made?”  I held up my cloak for Malice to see, and the start of a smile touched her lips.

“That's an interesting idea, Lowin, but if they don't believe you, or if they insist upon protocol, we could be in some serious trouble,” she replied, warily.

“It's the only thing I can think of, other than trying to fight our way in.”  I grabbed the hilt of my sword as I spoke.  “I don't cherish that idea.”

She nodded.  “It might work, especially if we can speak with Froast.  He will be eager to investigate your cloak, and would assume that anyone researching the cloaks would probably be under the employ of the king, especially when escorted by someone who is well known among the Knights of Ethan.  Froast will be ecstatic.  Last I'd heard, in all the time he had managed the project, they had not made any notable progress on the fabric.  Your cloak might just stir enough notice to get us inside, at least somewhere besides the dungeon.”

The plan was simple, and we could only hope that it would work.  If we could get inside Tuskavar, it would put us that much closer to our ultimate objective, though how we might find Kye once inside was another problem entirely.  Together we stepped from the woods and onto the open field that stretched before the villa in which Kye was being kept.  Each step felt like a step toward the gallows, as though I were walking toward my own execution.  It took a conscious effort not to draw my sword as we drew nearer the entrance.  I knew such an action would be folly, but I felt as though I were coming into danger naked without my sword at the ready.  There were two human guards outside the gate that I could see, and on the other side of the gate I could make out just faintly the shifting silhouette of three Knights of Ethan.  As we came nearer, the eyes of those manning the gates fell heavily upon both Malice and me.   They lingered longer on me, and my unusual cloak, open curiosity reflected in their eyes, but no outright alarm.  We were unexpected, but not so much so that we caused immediate alarm.

I expected the human guard to confront us as we drew near the gate, but one of the three Knights of Ethan came forward instead.  She was a short, but powerful looking woman, with long black hair that hung freely about her face.  She drew close to the bars, and I could see, by the way her Lucidil fabric shifted about her, that she had the arms and legs of a fell beast hidden beneath her cloak.  Her arms were longer than they would have been otherwise, and she moved with a grace unobtainable to those limited by human limbs.  When her lips drew back from her teeth so that she could speak, her voice was gravelly and fierce, and her teeth razor sharp.  She employed “the voice” on Malice and me, despite the fact that we were unaffected by it.

“Malice, what brings you here?  Do you have the proper papers?”  The woman from beyond the gate questioned.  I noted that she had allowed her cloak to open, and that one of her scaled, not fur clad, hands were tight about the hilt of her sword.

“We are here on important research business, Torment,” Malice said, and I noticed that she kept her hood pulled low over her eyes, so as to cover the green light that now burned there.

I stepped forward as rehearsed and held up my arms to show off my cloak, “Our private facility in the south has made a breakthrough with the Lucidil fabric, and we've come to show Froast, and to update him on our progress.”  I spoke quietly, trying to attract as little attention as possible to myself.  Torment, as Malice had referred to the Knight of Ethan now questioning us, was looking at my eyes with heavy scrutiny.

“Your companion has unusual eyes, Malice.  I have never seen - or heard of, for that matter - his like before.”  Torment's hand never left the hilt of her weapon as she spoke.  A heavy tension hung in the air.

“He is Lowin Fenly, thought lost at Fell Rock, but we found him stumbling blindly through the woods shortly after the attack.  His eyes hadn't healed yet, and so he'd become estranged in the chaos of the battle,” Malice explained briefly, but I could hear the tension behind her words.  She was feeling the strain of the moment as well.

Torment stared at us both for what seemed like a long time.  “I see,” she said after what felt an interminable pause.  “I have heard of the boy, but I didn't know that he had come so far in such a short time.”  She was looking at the clawed hands coming from the ends of my sleeves, hands which I was trying desperately to keep still and relaxed.  “I suppose it matters little. Do you have the proper papers?”  Torment said, her probing eyes finally leaving me.  I was relieved, and worried at the change of pace, for we had no papers to display.

There was agitation in Malice's voice when she spoke again.  “The cloak is paper enough, Torment.  We've come straight from the other research facility at a grueling pace, traveling hard for two weeks to arrive here as soon as possible.  Stopping for papers would have extended our journey by nearly a month, and this is information that must be passed on for the security of our nation.”

Torment eyed us both for a time before saying anything more, “You know the rules as well as any.  You've been stationed here before.”  She was looking at Malice.  “I will make an exception and let you through to see Froast, Malice, but the boy will have to wait in the dungeon until I can contact the king and verify your claim.”

My heart began to hammer in my chest.  I couldn't allow myself to be locked away for weeks, no matter what happened, my right hand twitched but I froze as my green-eyed companion spoke again.

Her voice had taken on a note of command.  “That will not work.  Lowin possesses information that Froast needs in order to get his work up to the level of ours.  Simply delivering the cloak to him will do no good at all, just as the original cloaks would have never been figured out if not for the original plans.  Lowin must be allowed to convey the memorized plans to Froast himself.”

Torment's facial expression had soured, growing steadily more exasperated, “You do not have these plans written down somewhere?”

Malice laughed derisively.  “You would have us carry a paper copy of plans that could give our enemy a distinct advantage over us in every battle?  Surely you're joking?”

Tempest's face reddened in anger, and then she seemed to swallow the emotion, the heat of rage left her cheeks, and she smiled, "Fine, then you can warm the prison floor while the boy goes about your little errand.”

Malice merely shrugged, ignoring the other woman's attempt to raise her ire, “That suits me fine.”

My heart began beating fast in my chest once more.  I did not want Malice to be thrown into the dungeon.  I wasn't sure how I was to get to Kye, let alone how I could get to Kyeia and retrieve Malice as well.  The situation was quickly getting out of hand.  Malice placed a hand on my shoulder, and I found that I could feel a sense of calm flowing from her. I grabbed on to it and steadied myself.  I looked to her face, and saw no worry in her eyes.

“Do what you must, for the kingdom.  We will worry about the rest afterwards.”  I read the meaning beneath her words, and nodded my head, though it pained me to agree to such a separation.  I promised myself that I would not leave the villa without both her and Kye in tow, even if I had to rip the entire place apart to retrieve them both.

“Good, since that is settled,” Torment ordered the gates opened, and as they swung wide one of the other Knights of Ethan came forward and shackled Malice's hands.  The shackles seemed to be merely in place for show, as the metal looked as though any true Knight, or Broken Sword for that matter, could shatter the restraints with a simple flexing of muscle.  I watched Malice walk away, led toward the villa by the same Knight of Ethan that had shackled her.  Seeing her chained filled my heart with rage, but I silenced the emotion and tried to force myself calm.

“Now, Fenly, about you," I turned my attention to Torment as she spoke, her eyes scanning me, as if judging my worth.  She was not an attractive woman; for all that her features were pale and pristine.  Something about the way her facial features came together made her seem cruel.  “I shall send a messenger to the house and have one of Froast's assistants come to bring you to him.”  She stepped closer to me, and I restrained myself from stepping back, though she was far closer than I would have liked.  The top of her head came only to my chin, but when she drew near I still felt as though she were looking down on me.

“Perhaps once your work with Froast is complete,” her left hand slid up my thigh and one of her clawed, scaled fingers slid beneath the waist of my pants before she withdrew it and traced her lips with the tip of her tongue.  “I can find some other purpose for you.  Would you like that?”

I would not like that at all, I decided, but it would do no good to antagonize this particular Knight so I smiled with all the mischief I could muster and said, “Indeed.  It is good to keep busy.”

Torment giggled, a twisted sound somewhere between pleasure, excitement, and ill intent.  She stepped back, calling for one of her guards as she did so.  She wrote him a letter, and sealed it with a wax seal that seemed to heat magically as she pressed it to the paper before sending him off to the house to call upon one of Froast's assistants.  I took a deep breath and prepared myself for what I knew was going to be a difficult time.

I tried not to flinch when Torment reached for the clasp on my sword belt, her hand feeling for more than the clasp in the process.  “We can't have you going fully armed into the research area until you're mission is confirmed, can we?”  She said with a mischievous smile.  I forced what I hoped was a similar smirk of my own, and let her finish with the pretext of removing my sword belt.  My flesh responded to the ministration of her touch unbidden by me, which only pleased her further.  I ignored the heat in my cheeks until my sword belt finally came away.  Without the added weight at my side, I felt naked, which only added to the awkwardness of the moment.  I was, of course, still dangerous.  Taking my sword away did little to make me less of a threat and so it was an indignity that I suffered, I knew, only so that my molester might enjoy herself.  I took comfort in one thought - Torment seemed to believe Malice and I had come for the exact purpose we'd stated, for she was far from treating me like a possibly dangerous enemy which meant that she had sent Malice to the dungeon merely because she had the authority to do so.  That fact made me like the overly-touchy Knight of Ethan less than I had before, and I had not liked her in the least.  Her rows of razor edged teeth and the way “the voice” edged into everything she said did not help her appeal either.  I was thankful when a thin human woman with hair that looked like it hadn't been properly wrangled in weeks finally came from the house to get me.  As her eyes fell on me they widened in delighted amazement.

“This is wonderful!”  She exclaimed, almost flying the distance that spanned between us.  Her hands went to my cloak, and in a moment she was stretching the fabric and holding it close to her face, poking at it and even going so far as to reach inside my cloak to feel the cloth within.  She seemed oblivious to the fact that I was still wearing it, or that I even existed.

Torment stepped forward and pushed the woman back, hard enough that the skinny human woman staggered several feet and nearly fell over.  “Keep your hands to yourself, Tria.”  The black-eyed warrior's words were heavily laced with “the voice,” and I saw Tria quiver as the force of them struck her.  I remembered only too well what it felt like to have that voice fully leveled at you and my respect for Torment, if any had remained, evaporated entirely.

Tria dropped her head and stared at the ground, “Of course, Torment, my apologies.”

Torment seemed pleased at the researcher's supplication, smiling in that way one smiles when they know they have the upper hand in a situation, and is not afraid to abuse that position.  “Make sure that...”  The black-eyed woman paused and looked at me, an eyebrow rising, “You've already received the Fell Beast. Certainly they call you something besides 'Lowin' at this point?”

“Noble.”  I said, letting the name given to me free from my lips before considering the risk I took in using my title from the Broken Swords.  The wrong ears might recognize the name and bring me trouble, though I knew not what ears those might be.  I also was not comfortable with the implications of the name.  The more of the world I faced, the less I felt that “Noble” was a title that was mine to keep, but other than my name, it was all I had.

“Noble,” Torment repeated, nodding her head, a look of actual approval in her eyes.  “That is a good name.”

“It was to be that, or 'Fool.'”  I replied, remembering how Lucidil had referred to me as a “noble fool.”  I wondered what he would think of me now that I had killed one of his best men, thus betraying both him and the king.  I certainly wasn't noble.  Ever more I felt the fool.

Torment offered one of her distressing giggles before addressing Tria again, “Take Noble to Froast, but keep your whoring hands off him, Tria.  Do you understand me?  I want this one.”  There was a feral look about Torment's features as she spoke that put me ill at ease.

Tria bowed low.  “Yes, Torment.”  Froast's assistant turned to me, her eyes lowered, and said, “If you would please follow me, Noble, I will show you to Master Froast.”

“Yes,” I assented, not wanting to risk saying anything that might further provoke the volatile Torment.  Tria turned and began walking for the villa, and I fell in behind her.

“I'll find you later, Fool,” Torment called from behind me, her voice dripping with something like seduction, but so heavily laced in “the voice” that Tria's entire body shook as we walked away.  There was a terrible twisting of violence and lust in her words, something far darker than I had heard before.  I didn't turn to reply, as I didn't want to see that terrible look I heard in her voice reflected in her black eyes.  I looked instead to the sky as we walked, noting the shift in the sun's position and knowing that my time was running out.  If I was lucky I would have a few hours left before someone from the bridge-gate thought to send warning to Tuskavar about Malice and myself.  At that point, it would become a battle to free myself from a place so much risk had been taken to enter.  What was worse, I was about to enter Froast's study with the miraculous new shifting cloak, and while I didn't know the first thing about the workings of the fabric or how it was made, I would be expected to produce just that information.

With Tria leading the way, we easily gained access to the Villa.  The guard at the door was a Knight of Ethan that I didn't recognize.  He didn't acknowledge me as I entered, and I was just as happy.  The chances were high that I would need to fight my way out, and it would be easier if I didn't know those I was to fight.  Brutal's face, dressed in that final look of betrayal, had not stopped haunting me and I doubted that it ever would.  I wondered how many more there would be before I was done fighting.

“Why are your eyes purple?”  Tria asked, breaking my unproductive line of thought.  “All the others that I have seen here have had black eyes.  What makes you different?”

I hadn't anticipated any questions from Tria after she had been threatened by Torment.  It showed a strong spirit, that she would risk possible reprisal just to suit her curiosity.  I found it to be a noble, if somewhat foolish, characteristic.  The question raised an issue that even I was not certain of.  It occurred to me then that my presence in the same building that they were keeping my Bound One might be seen as alarming if someone were to make the connection.  I was thankful that apparently Torment either had not realized the potential for trouble, or did not know that Kye was at Tuskavar.  Malice had said that projects within the building were for the most part kept private.  Maybe only those involved with her knew that she was being kept in the building.  Another possibility, one that terrified me, was that she had already died and my presence was no longer an issue at all.

“Well, if you don't want to answer...”  Tria said, and I realized I had gotten caught up in another round of thoughts and hadn't answered the crazy-haired, but otherwise pretty, woman I was following.

“Sorry, I have a lot on my mind.”  I stammered out my apology, and tried to collect my thoughts.  “My eyes are different because I formed a stronger bond with my Bound One before the completion of the process, than most other Knights of Ethan do, or so it is believed.”  I added the last part after remembering the way Malice's eyes had taken on green hues after her night with me.  Something else must be happening to account for the color, but whatever it was, I did not understand it.  I wanted to, though.

“That is interesting,” Tria said.  “How was your bond closer to your Bound One than others?  Were you close friends with him, or was their some trauma that brought you together...”  She paused for a moment, and then turned to face me, her eyes bright with mischief, “Were you and your Bound One lovers?”

I laughed despite myself, “Your curiosity becomes you, but I don't think I'm going to answer any more questions about that at the moment.”

Tria shrugged and resumed her course through the house.  “It wouldn't bother me if you were lovers, you know.  I'm like that too... I mean, I prefer my own, girls, over men.  They're softer, and nicer.”  She seemed to stop to think for a moment, and then added, “Usually nicer... Torment is nice to no one, and she is too demanding.”

I sensed deeper import behind her words, but did not pry into what was not my business.  “The world is full of people like Torment,” I said.  “A woman by the name of Wisp is the reason I carry scars across my face.”

“I would have thought a Knight of Ethan's scars would be won in grand battles against the enemies of the king, not in a roll in the hay gone wrong.”  Tria laughed as she walked.

“There was no hay-rolling with that one.  She simply didn't like me and decided that life would be more pleasant without me,” I replied, wincing in remembered pain.  The scars on my face, now simply streaks of stiffened white skin across my visage, almost seemed to ache afresh.

“Really?”  Tria seemed surprised, “Wisp is, from what I understand, quite popular here among the men.  She is very 'friendly,' they say.”

Tria's words shocked me.  Wisp was one of the guards at Tuskavar.  That was some information that I could have done without.  Despite myself, and despite how strong I'd gotten, I felt a surge of fear course through me.  She had come quite close to ending my life and part of that stayed with me.  I took a few calming breaths and reminded myself that I would not be there long, and probably would not see Wisp at all.  Tria seemed to have noticed my lapse into quietness.

“You're still pretty, for a boy,” Tria said, and I could hear the smile on her mouth, though I couldn't see her face since she was in front of me.  “Maybe Wisp was just jealous because you're better looking than her.”

I allowed myself to laugh, though the reality of the situation didn't allow me to enjoy it much.  “I don't think I've ever been called pretty before.”

“Handsome, then.”

“Coming from a woman who doesn't like men, I'm not sure how well to take that,” I said, allowing a bit of humor into my voice.

“Just because I don't like horses, doesn't mean I can't tell a mule from a charger,” Tria answered without missing a beat.  I found Tria's sharp wit refreshing.  Possibly, I thought, because she was using it to flatter me, but I felt more than part of my feeling of good will towards the woman was due wholly to her outstanding nature.  It was rare to meet someone so fully possessed of themself.

I noticed that we were approaching a door, and Tria was slowing down, “Froast will be very excited to see your cloak.  He's been trying for a breakthrough in the process for ages.  He's the only one of us who's actually allowed to know the process for creating the Lucidil cloaks to begin with.  My primary role is simply to examine the thread consistency and properties of the fabrics he produces.  I have never seen him produce anything like what you're wearing, even in his most amazing samples.  He was a little angry when he found out there was another research project down south, but the news that you'd brought a sample for him to study quickly quelled that.  He is, to say the least, obsessed with his work.  ”

I nodded, deciding that since I knew nothing, it would be best not to say anything at all.  I felt that would be a stance I'd be taking often in the near future.  Tria knocked once on the door and then waited.  She didn't have to wait long.  A bolt slid back and the door opened, exposing a female Knight of Ethan standing guard at the entry way.  She looked first to Tria, nodded her greeting, and then looked to me.  Her face blanched when her eyes met mine, and mine must have gone several shades lighter as well.  The Knight standing in the door was Wisp.

Wisp said nothing as she permitted us entrance into the room, and I did what I could to make myself appear calm and relaxed.  In reality, though, between running into Wisp again and the knowledge that I was about to be pressed for answers I didn't have regarding my cloak, my nerves were so taunt I could have played them like a harp.  I kept Wisp at the corner of my line of sight as we moved into a room full of equipment I didn't recognize.  There was a door at the opposite end of the room from where we'd entered, to which Tria was walking.  I followed her.  For her part, Wisp stayed distant from me, never coming within physical range, which suited me well enough.  I wasn't exactly afraid of her, but I refused to be less than cautious in her presence.  I followed Tria through the room to the door at the back.  Once there, she knocked and called, “Master Froast, the sample is here.  I believe you will be most pleased.”

The door swung open before Tria had even finished her words, and a tall, chubby man came rushing out.  His hair was of middling length, blond but streaked with gray and unkempt. He had eyes of a deep brown that almost appeared black, set high above a graying mustache and a large grin was on his face that showed off a set of teeth in terrible disrepair. His brown robe, an expensively cut piece of fabric, was dirty and covered in splotches of what looked like dried blood.

“By all that is good in the world!”  He exclaimed as his eyes locked on my cloak, and he pulled the door of the room he'd just come from firmly shut behind him.  I noted that a strong animal smell wafted from there in.  His hands, cleaner than his clothing thankfully, were on the material of my cloak in an instant and his nose, a long hooked affair that might have appeared strange on face less hawkish than his own, was actually pressed against the fabric as he examined it closely.  “But how did they...”  He began, and then, “Oh, now that is....”  He seemed to have entirely forgotten there were others in the room.

After a few moments of this, Tria cleared her throat loudly.  “Master Froast?”

“What?” He called out, looking up to his assistant, his eyes attentive, and then a moment later he looked up at me, noticed my eyes, and exclaimed, “Oh my, how colorful!”  And then a look of what appeared to be embarrassment crossed his face, “Oh, I'm terribly sorry.  Where are my manners?”  He took a step back, made a pointless attempt and fixing his hair, and held out one of his hands.  “I am Dian Froast, and it has been my task for the last thirty years to work with and attempt to improve the Lucidil fabric.  I haven't gotten out much in that time, so some of my social graces may have slipped a little.”

I took his hand in my own, noting that my massive clawed digits made his disappear.  “I am Noble.  I've come from the south to bring you the latest progress from our team there.”

Froast's eyes were on the fabric again.  “It is remarkable.  How did you manage to solve the sustainable energy problem, and yet maintain cohesion at the thread level?”

I opened my mouth to say something, though I hadn't actually formulated an intelligent reply, but was saved when Froast suddenly held up his hand to silence me before I spoke.  “No, wait, don't tell me yet!  Can I have a night to look at the cloak, and see if I can figure it out for myself?”

The relief that swept over me made me feel lighter than air.  I again opened my mouth to reply that he could indeed have all the time he wanted, but he interrupted once more.

“I know what you're going to say; 'It's important to learn the techniques quickly so that we can start mass production for our forces on the field!' But, my friend, Noble, I have been working on this for years and years, please would you give me the opportunity to unravel the mystery of the magic myself?”  He pleaded, and I almost laughed in relief.  He was offering me a solution far better than any I could come up with to deal with the situation.

“Of course.  I don't see how one night can hurt anything,” I said with a smile, and proceeded to remove my cloak.  I hated to see it go, but the alternative to giving it up was putting myself in a position where I would have to explain how the cloak was made, and since I couldn't do that, losing my cloak seemed the least of my worries.  Besides, giving Froast the cloak would buy me the only time I'd probably have to accomplish my goal before news reached Tuskavar of my escapades at the bridge.

“Good, good!”  Froast exclaimed, as he ran his hands over the cloak I'd removed.  “Tria, would you see that our guest has a place to rest.  He must be tired from his trip.”

Tria bowed.  “Yes, Master Froast.  If you would, please follow me, Noble?”  I fell in behind her once more and she led us back out the way we'd come in, past Wisp who again made no move to acknowledge me.  If she held any hostility towards me, or felt anything else at all, it was not evidenced by her actions.  I still felt an itch run down my spine as my back faced her, a symptom of my paranoia, and nothing else.

It didn't take long for Tria and me to reach the guest room I was to stay in.  It was only a short walk down the corridor from Froast's lab.  We passed four doors on each side of the hall and Tria stopped and removed a set of keys from her pocket.  She found the appropriate one, put it in the lock, and opened the door into a nice-sized bedroom attached to what appeared to be a separate room containing a bath facility, a luxury not many people had.

“The rooms here are quite nice.  They don't let us out much, but they do try to keep us comfortable.  Make yourself at home. I'll send some food up for you later this evening, and see that you're sent for in the morning, when Master Froast is ready,” Tria said with a smile.  “He might make you wait a little longer if he thinks he can figure things out on his own, but don't worry.  He won't forget you.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to decide whether I wanted to risk asking any questions of the friendly lab assistant before she left.  She might know where Kye was being kept, or she might not, but asking her such questions would likely raise her suspicion and put me in danger. Even if it didn't raise her suspicions of me, my questions could put her at risk.  If Tria knew I was interested in Kye and I walked out of here with her, Tria could be seen as responsible.  It would not do to involve more people in my problems.  I would have to do what needed to be done on my own.  How I was to go about that, I was not yet sure.

“Might I get a cloak to replace the one that I have given up?”  I asked, a sudden inspiration striking me.

On my walk through the hallways I had passed no less than four Knights of Ethan patrolling the corridors.  To get where I needed to go, I would have to travel the corridors without being obviously out of place, lest I rouse suspicion and bring the guards down upon myself.  Under the hood of a cloak, I would look like any other Knight.  That would give me, at least to some extent, the ability to move about without attracting too much attention.  Of course, my movements were not likely to match the usual patrol pattern and being out of place would attract unwanted questions, but at least I would not look conspicuous for my lack of adornment.  I needed any advantage I could get.

“I'm sure we could find you a cloak to replace yours.  I'll have it sent up with your meal.  Is there anything else before I get back to work?”  Tria asked, her tone friendly.

“No, but thank you,” I said, and offered her a smile, behind which was hidden a great many fears.  Tria left the room, and I found myself wrapped in a profound silence.  I was road weary and covered in grime, so I decided to make use of the facilities provided to wash the dirt from my body.  The basin in the bathroom was large enough to immerse my entire body in water if I wanted, and was designed to pull water from an external source through a series of pipes that came in from the wall.  The water was not cold, but it was far from warm.  Still, I was eager to be clean, so I ran the basin partially full of water, took off my clothes and worked at the worn in dirt on my flesh.  I had one alternate change of clothing in my pack, and I put those on, though I was still without a cloak.

That finished, I was left to decide my next course of action.  It would have been easiest to accomplish my ends if I could have waited until night and gone sneaking through dark corridors, but I didn't believe my situation afforded me that much time.  If I waited until Tria sent my food and replacement cloak, I would have at least some semblance of a disguise to work with, but how long would that be?  I looked out the single, high placed window of the room I was in, and saw that the sun still had much distance to travel before it would reach the horizon.  The evening meal was probably a few hours away.  Could I really afford to wait that long before going out?  I not only had Kyeia to worry about, but I also needed to find Malice and free her from the dungeon, which might be more difficult than finding and freeing Kye.

At the realization of just how near finding Kye I was, my heart beat quickened in my chest.  She was in the same building as I was, possibly only a few hundred feet away.  I only needed to find a way to get to her.  It would have been a relief to be so close if the situation I was in didn't make this last stretch to save Kyeia so difficult.  Finally, after deliberating for a few more minutes, I decided it would be best to wait for the cloak to come up with my dinner.

I waited for what felt like hours, biding my time and hoping that Tria would send my meal and cloak earlier than the evening meal, but as more time passed I began to realize that was not going to happen.  I was on the verge of going to my door and leaving the room to start my search despite my lack of disguise when a shuffling sound in the hallway caught my ears.  The steps were quiet, and there seemed to be multiple sources.  My keen hearing picked out the slightly varying steps, differentiating three distinct sets.  They all had one trait in common though.  They were the footfalls of Fell Beast paws, a soft pad hitting tile, followed by the slight click of claw.  I desperately wanted them to be a group on patrol, but I had the suspicion as they drew nearer that such was not the case.  They moved with a purpose, and as they drew within range of my door I heard the telltale scraping of metal on leather as weapons cleared scabbards.  I felt a tightness about my heart as grim reality set in.

My time was up, and I had squandered it in waiting.  The Knights of Ethan did not bother to knock.  My door crashed open, and two of them blurred into the room, coming at me quickly, with weapons drawn, but not set to attack.  A third figure, Torment, stepped through the broken frame, shattered during the entrance of her two fellow Knights, her earlier look of lust and sadistic glee replaced by one of pure malice.  The two guards who had first entered the room moved to flank me, one to each side.  In less time than it took to draw a breath, I was surrounded by a superior number of foes, weaponless and without my armor.

“Stand down, Lowin Fenly, or we will cut you into pieces,” Torment said, and I did not doubt that she meant it.  Such was the look of rage on her face, that I suspected that she wanted me to give her such an opportunity.  I, however, did not intend die yet.  I had things that I needed to accomplish, and though the situation seemed hopeless, dying was the only thing I could do that would truly make the situation hopeless.  “You are wanted for the crime of treason for your actions committed at the Iol Adjot West Gate.  You are to be held until your charges are judged by the highest court, at which time your punishment, and there is only one punishment for treason, will be carried out here.”

I forced the claws on my hands to dull, though it took an effort to keep them so.  My entire body was tensed and ready for attack.  Every inch of my being was on edge.  I took mental stock of myself, forcing each muscle to loosen and relax, until finally I trusted myself to be touched without attempting to kill the first one to come near me.  I might be able to take one attacker, possibly two, but three Knights of Ethan were beyond me, and if they were all skilled, than I might not finish even one.  The two Knights who had flanked me moved in, their swords ready, and each reached out to take one of my arms.  I made no attempt to resist, allowing each guard to firmly grab and restrain me.  Of those who'd come for me, I recognized only Torment.  There was a woman on my right and a male on my left, both with the scaled hands of lesser fell beasts, which they had wrapped so tightly about my arms that I could feel the skin being punctured by their claws.  Yet in their grip, which I knew to be as hard as they could make them, I felt an inherent weakness, and suddenly found myself aware of just how much stronger I was than either of them. I had not had much contact with other Knights since I'd taken the eyes of Kye; other than Silent, Brutal, Lucidil, and Malice, I'd had no one with which to compare my own strength.  Of those other Knights, or Broken Swords, I had only ever sparred with Brutal, Lucidil, and Malice.  They had all been quite strong, but perhaps I was wrong in assuming that they were of average strength.  Perhaps, those three, whose strength was equal, or in some cases greater, than my own, were the strongest of the Knights.  As my arms were gripped in vice-like holds, I began to realize just how wide the gap was between me and some of the other Knights of Ethan.  I was at least as much stronger than those that held me, than they were stronger than an average man or woman.  I allowed myself to be held.

Once I was well in hand, or so it appeared, Torment approached me and lashed out with her fist, striking me in the side of the face in a blow that would have killed a normal man.  My jaw snapped viciously, and I felt the bones in my face crack, and then snap back as they began to heal almost immediately.  My body was still improving.  I had first noticed it when I stood aboard the ship that was to be my vessel on the first leg of this journey, and my senses had immediately attuned to the roll of the waves.  I noticed it again now, as I healed faster than I ever had before.  I turned to face Torment, and let the contempt I'd felt for her since arriving flow into my eyes.  Since the game was up, I would no longer pretend that I felt anything remotely pleasant about her.  This infuriated her further, and she struck me again, harder, but not as much harder as I would have expected.  My face split open, and blood spattered the floor.  I realized then, as the world spun for a second, that Torment was at the limit of her strength.  Without using her claws, or a weapon, she could do no more harm to me.  The bone and flesh of my face stitched itself back together.  I remained stoic.

Torment growled her frustration and then screamed at the two Knights restraining me, “Throw him in the dungeon!”  As my guards started off, Torment yelled at my back.  “You're going to learn why they call me Torment, Lowin Fenly.  When the king hands down his justice, I will make sure you do not die quickly.”

I believe she wanted a reaction from me, but I offered her none.  I did not intend to stick around long enough to find out what “justice” the king might have in store for me.  I would allow my captors to take me to the dungeon.  From there I would be near Malice again, and that would give me a distinct advantage.  Malice was powerful too, stronger even still since her eyes had begun to change.  Between the two of us I believed we stood a good chance of being equal to the challenge of recovering Kye and escaping from Tuskavar.

The two guards did not treat me roughly, though I sensed that would change if I gave them trouble.  So long as I allowed them to lead me to the dungeon, they would not go out of their way to make their job more difficult than it needed to be.  The trip to the dungeon was not a long one.  We passed four human guards, and two additional Knights of Ethan along the way, and all made no pretense at hiding their curiosity at the purple-eyed Knight being led by armed guards through the halls.  Traitors were virtually unheard of among the Knights, and I was the first traitor with purple eyes any had seen.  I couldn't blame them for staring - in their position, I would have done the same, but I still resented it.  It was part of a greater resentment, I realized.  I did not resent the Knights themselves, but the structure of government for which they stood.

The dungeon was located at the very bottom of villa, two floors below ground level.  The floor above it was a guard post, with heavy doors that could be locked externally at both ends.  The cells themselves were dingy and dirty, as one would expect, but they seemed to have been designed with the prospect of keeping a Knight of Ethan imprisoned.  The bars were of a heavy forged iron, tightly woven, each bar slightly thinner than an average man's hand.  They would be impossible to bend.  I kept my eyes open for Malice as I was led past the cells, but it was dark enough that I couldn't make out whom, if anyone, was in each enclosure.  The guards stopped two doors from the end, one of them released me long enough to open the gate, and I was pushed towards the opening, not hard but with enough force to let me know that going any other direction would be trouble, especially with the two swords pointed at my back.  I considered for a moment attacking my two guards and attempting to escape, but there had been no less than five human guards and four additional Knights of Ethan in the guard post on the floor above.  I didn't think I could dispatch six Knights on my own.  I walked into the cell and heard the metal door close heavily behind me.  There was a note of finality about that sound that I didn't like in the least.

The footsteps of the retreating guards faded, I heard another heavy door open and close, and then the world was full of nothingness.  The darkness was far deeper than that of the outside world, even to the point that my eyes, as well attuned to working in the dark as they were, could make out only the faintest details.  I could navigate if I needed to, but much beyond the reach of my arm was complete blackness now that the light from the floor above was blocked off by the door.

“Lowin?”  A familiar voice called from a neighboring cell, Malice.

“Yes,” I answered, feeling a mix of guilt and pleasure at hearing her voice.  I was happy to hear that she was alive, but I felt as though I had failed her by not finding Kye and rescuing her.  “I'm afraid I haven't done very well.”

“It's alright.  I'm just glad you are not hurt.  They came down here a few minutes ago, came into the cell and took all of my equipment.  They knocked me around a bit.  I knew things had gone sour when that happened.”

My anger flared, a deep rage building that anyone would hurt those who were important to me.  My rage was immediately chased by a sense of worthlessness.  “I had time. I was even left alone. I just didn't act soon enough.  This is my fault,” I said, and the words felt true and bitter on my tongue.

“Don't worry,” Malice said.  “We'll find a way out of here before long, and then we'll get Kye and leave this place behind.”  Her voice held little confidence.  I guessed that she had already tried to get out of her own cell and had no luck so far.  Still, she was trying to encourage me, and I couldn't let her do so in vain.  I forced myself to sound positive.

“Of course.  Now that we're back together, we can get out of this mess.”  Though I didn't believe the words when I said them, saying them made me feel better.  I just had to find a way to make them true.

I worked on the lattice of bars for hours, heaving and struggling against the solid framework with all the strength that I could muster, but the metal was simply unrelenting.  My claws could not rend the structure, and my brawn would not bend the bars.  I scoured the heavy stone walls, looking for a loose link, any place that I might make a hole through which to escape, but every inch of every wall was fortified beyond my ability to break.  The cells had been designed to hold things of a magnitude far stronger than I was, and that made me wonder exactly what they had been designed to keep in.  I even went so far in my vigor to break free to slam my fist into the stone as hard as I could, but that resulted in nothing more than my bones cracking loudly against the unmoving wall.  The breaks in my bones healed, but the pain lingered for a while even after the flesh had mended.

“I've tried as well," came Malice's voice from her cell, somewhere across the central corridor from me, but I didn't think it was the one directly adjacent mine.  “This dungeon was designed to hold monsters more powerful than us.”

I paced my cell, suddenly feeling all too keenly just how small an area I was bound to.  Monsters.  That word stuck in my mind, a poignant reminder of how much humanity I had lost.  Malice had not meant it as an offense, but the word reminded me of what I had lost, and what I was becoming. “They will have to feed us eventually.  When they do...”  I began.

“Meals are slipped through a slot under the door.  The last time they opened the cell was when they came to take my supplies, and they brought heavy reinforcements when they did that.  I doubt that our cell doors will be opened again until they've come to deliver our punishment.  That means that we must find a way out of here on our own," Malice spoke in a mild tone, one I knew that was meant to calm me while imparting information that might not be of a calming nature.

I sighed and forced myself to sit down, attempting to relax.  Somewhere above me, Kyeia was being held as a prisoner, studied and dissected as they tried to determine why she was still alive after having given up her eyes, even if their studies might be to the detriment of that life.  I needed to stay calm, and find a way to get free so that I could help her.  I knew that.  Rational thought was necessary to overcome the situation.  Knowing that I needed to stay calm was far easier than actually staying calm.

“If we get out, we do not allow them to take us again," I called from where I sat upon the floor, the agitation in my voice obvious even to me.

“That is a given," Malice replied.  “I've no intention of ending up in this place again - should I ever get free of it, that is.”

The sound of a door opening was immediately followed by a cascade of light into the room so bright that, after having been in the dark for hours, it was momentarily blinding. For the first time I was truly able to make out the area beyond my cell door.  There was a long, bare, stone-floored corridor stretching between the two lines of dungeon cells, with each cell set at a staggered interval from those across from them so that it was difficult to directly see into any other enclosure.  I saw Malice, leaning against the bars of her own cell, across from me, and two cells down, all the way next to the wall at the opposite end of the dungeon from the door.  I only saw her for a moment, and it was hard to make out details through the heavy pattern of the bars.  She covered her eyes and walked into the darkness at the back of her iron cage as light flooded into dank subterranean prison.  I thought that she was probably right to make such a move.  It would keep her eyes adjusted to the deep darkness of our confinement, and allow her to go mostly unseen.  I, however, did not follow the example.  I wanted to see what was happening, in hope that I might turn events to my advantage.  A single figure was framed in the doorway, dressed in a cloak of shifting edges.  In a moment the door shut behind whoever had entered, but they had brought a torch so light remained, not as bright as that which had come through the opening but still far brighter than what I had momentarily grown accustomed to.

The cloaked person was a Knight of Ethan.  It was immediately obvious not only from the way it moved down the stairs, but also for the clawed hand that gripped the handle of the torch and the Lucidil Cloak worn by the Knights.  It stopped at each cell, holding the torch high, as though checking on the prisoners.  I hadn't heard any other prisoners the entire time I'd been in the dark, so the possibility remained that whoever it was that had brought the torch was looking for Malice and me, but did not know exactly where we were kept.  I briefly entertained the idea of reaching through the gate and seizing them as they approached and forcing them to free us, but the bars were designed in such a way that I could get no more than my hand through the grid-work and that only with difficulty.  I had but one choice, to wait and see what was to happen.

The Knight approached, checking each cell, until finally the figure stood in front of mine, torch held high.  The light was not bright, and it took only a brief moment for my eyes to adjust to the new light.  I could see nothing of the person holding the brand, and knew not what to expect.  There was the chance that the cloaked figure would simply move past and check the rest of the cells, but I had the growing suspicion that such would not be the case.

“Lowin?”  It was a female voice that was familiar, but not so much that I could immediately identify its owner.  I squinted to see, holding my hand up to try and block the direct light of the torch, but I could not make out anything while looking past the torch.  Even my sensitive vision had limits.

“Yes," I replied, stepping away from the bars, back into the darkness of my cell.  My suspicion was confirmed.  Whoever it was, they had come looking for me.  That information alone made me nervous.  I'd had enough of strange people searching for me to last several life times.  First Tempest had come for me, then Lucidil had come, and now whoever it was that stood beyond my cell had come looking for me.  I wasn't sure I wanted any part of whatever adventure they might bring with them.

“Just a moment and I will free you," the voice said, and I heard the sound of keys being manipulated.  My surprise would have been apparent had I not been shrouded in the murk of my captivity.  I had expected many things, but a chance at escape had not been one of those.

“You're here to free me?  Who are you?”  I had never been one to hold back with questions.

The keys stopped jingling and there was a moment of hesitance, as if whoever was beyond my cell wasn't sure they wanted to disclose their identity.

“I am Wisp," came the soft reply, followed by the resuming of keys being manipulated, and my heart gave a fierce throb in my chest.

“Why would you free me, so that you can attempt to kill me again?”  I spat the words forth, knowing that they were far from appropriate at that point in time, but unable to control them.  Of all the people who might have come to free me, and that was a short list, I would have never placed Wisp's name on it if I'd had a million years to consider the possibilities.

The keys stopped again.  “I'm not here to kill you, idiot.  I'm here to free you and Malice if you want.  I know I have hurt you in the past, but I have had months to consider my actions and much has changed since then.”  She resumed searching for the key, and a moment later I heard it slide into the lock.  “I was jealous of how the other Knights spoke of you, and how quickly you learned everything.  I had been treated the same way when I first came to the Knights, told how great my potential was, and I hated that you were a new hope for them while I had failed many times and fallen in rank until I was barely good enough for guard duty.  I took my self-loathing out on you.  I know that now.”  The door opened to my cell.  “I don't know why you've done all the things they say you have, and I want no part of any of it, but I cannot live with myself if I do not pay the debt that I owe you.  I will let you free from this cell, and we will part company, all debts paid.”

I stepped from the door of my cell, coming close enough that I could see Wisp's face in the light of her torch.  There was sincerity in the lines of her features.  Her eyes passed over my face, and I saw them tracing the white scars she had carved there.  She looked away, and pulled her keys from the door.

“Malice is two cells down, on the opposite side of the corridor," I told her, still wary of the woman who had once so deeply cut me, but also unwilling to cast aside the help she was offering.  I didn't know what the consequences would be for her, but she was giving me what would possibly be my last chance to free Kye and Malice.  She walked down the corridor towards Malice's iron cage.

“They will kill you for this, Wisp," Malice's voice came from her cell, where she had obviously overheard our conversation.  “We stand accused of treason, and so will you, for freeing us.”

I heard a key entering a lock, and the sound of a door swinging open.  “I will leave the Knights in the chaos of your escape, and strive to make a better life for myself.  After you demoted me, Malice, they sent me to...”  Her voice trailed off.  “They did things to me that...”  Again, her words faltered, but when she spoke again there was strength in her voice I had not heard while she was my guard all those months before.  It was the same tone I had first heard from her that had made me fail to recognize her voice.  “I am a different woman.  I have been thinking about leaving for a long time now, and seeing Lowin again has been just the final blow to my crumbling beliefs.  So you see, I am setting you free, but I am really freeing myself as well.”

Malice stepped from her cell, dressed in only her shirt and pants, an aspect of her I'd only ever seen at our most intimate times.  Generally she was full dressed in armor and cloak, and though I knew she was dressed down because the Knights had taken her gear, it still struck me as strange to see her so.  “If this is what you want, I commend your bravery and thank you for your help," Malice said.

I heard a gasp from Wisp, “Your eyes are green!”  She said, a quiet exclamation.

“They were a gift from Lowin," Malice replied, and I thought I detected the slightest smile evident in the tone of her words.

“But how...”  Wisp began, but Malice stopped her.

“Now isn't the time.  We need to make our escape before someone notices that you've been down here longer than whatever excuse you may have given dictates.  I recommend you stay down here until you hear the sounds of fighting from above, and then you can attempt to make your escape.  I can't say whether or not we will be able to fight our way free, so you may have to fight your way out as well.”  The green-eyed warrior's voice had taken on an air of authority.

Wisp seemed to remember where she was then, and she reached beneath her cloak, drawing out a long package wrapped in a shifting cloak.  She handed the bundle to Malice.

“I couldn't get your gear back," Wisp said to the green eyed woman, "but I was able to get two swords, a new cloak for you, and...”  She held up something that was difficult to see in the dimness of the room.  “I stole back Lowin's cloak after Froast finally passed out while working on it.  He'd been awake for about three days.  Even his excitement about this cloak couldn't keep him up forever.”

I crossed the distance and took the fabric from her, a smile on my face.  Just feeling the familiar cloth on my fingers again brought a sense of confidence to me.  I quickly put on the cloak, and fastened the new sword on as well.

“Whatever debt you owed me, Wisp, you may consider paid in full," I told her, feeling whole again with my sword and cloak donned.  A look of such relief came over Wisp's face that it seemed to me I might have just told her that I was not going to end her life in miserable torture.  She had acted gruff about the matter, but I knew then that she had desperately wanted to hear those words from me.  I found that I believed them, as well.  I no longer bore the female Knight any ill will.  There was still much to be done, though.  I needed one more thing from Wisp, "However, I have one question for you, and it is important.”

Wisp nodded, obviously eager to answer whatever I might have to ask.

“Do you know where they're keeping Kyeia?”  It was the most vital question I could ask.  If she knew, it might mean the difference between success and failure for Malice and me.

Wisp shook her head in negative reply.  “I'm afraid I do not, but I heard that she had been brought here.  It was big news.  I do, however, know where you should look.”

My face passed through an entire range of emotions, beginning with disappointment, and ending on hope at her last words.  Even knowing where to begin was at least something to go on.

“The east wing of the building is where they manage all research that involves medical care.  I believe that is where they would have taken her, but the Knights are not permitted to know the nature of most of the really secretive work, and all word of Kyeia since she came here has been tightly guarded.  I know only that she is alive and that her room is guarded by two Knights, not human guards, and that the Knights chosen are quarantined from the rest of us so that no information leaks out.  I'm not even sure which two guards have been chosen for the detail.”  The information Wisp offered was more than I had thought I'd have when starting my search.

“Thank you," I told her, offering a slight bow.  “That information will be invaluable to us.”

“How many guards are in the room above?”  Malice asked, drawing her sword as she began walking for the stairs that would lead us to the exit of the dungeon.

“Six human, four Knights.”  Wisp replied.  “I traded the fifth for his position here.  I told him that I was curious about the prisoner since I had” she looked at me, shame on her face, "been the one to scar you.”

I shrugged.  “Scars heal.  You bought us an easier fight out of here, and that's another thing for which we owe you thanks.”  I drew my own weapon, trying to ready myself for the fight that was about to come.  I would be facing multiple Knights in a battle to the death, a task I'd never tackled before.  Surprise, my superior strength and speed, and the outstanding fighting skills of Malice would be all the advantage we had.  I hoped it would be enough.

“The door at the top is unlocked," Wisp said.  “Good luck.”

Malice and I ascended the stone stairs, as quietly as we could; about to embark upon a battle we knew could be our last.  My hand tightened about the hilt of my sword in anticipation, the weight almost identical to that of my lost weapon, which was to be expected since all the blades of the Knights of Ethan were crafted by the same forge and made of the same high quality materials.  In my mind I was already going over the layout of the villa, or as much of it as I knew, deciding what would be our best course of action if we managed to survive the fight ahead.  I heard Malice's hand lift and pull the ring that served as a door handle, and all such thoughts fled.  The immediate present was all that need concern me.

In the closeness of the hall Malice looked to me, her green eyes flashing in the light coming from around the door.  I knew that we would be momentarily blinded by the light that was about to assail us, but we needed only see enough to make our first move, and from there our eyes would adjust.  Like all other aspects of those risen to Knighthood, our eyes adapted and changed as we needed them to.  I offered a nod of my head, letting Malice know that I was as ready as I was going to be.  Malice pulled the door open in one monstrous swing, and we charged out, squinting into the bright light as we went.  I pushed myself to the edge of my speed ability and tackled the nearest figure in a shifting cloak, knowing that the Knights would prove far more difficult to deal with than the human guards.  As my sword cleared the first target, his broken form falling into two pieces, Lucidil Cloak and body split despite their resistance, the room exploded into action.  It was obvious that I would not get another kill so easily.

I had no time to check to see if Malice was well, as I suddenly had another Knight of Ethan coming for me, his sword at the ready.  He moved with the speed and dexterity only a well-trained Knight could manage, his aim deadly and true.  I met his attack with one of my own, relying on my superior speed to give me the edge in our confrontation.  It worked.  My attacker's strike, despite its beauty and perfect killing form, was thrown off balance and turned aside by my superior strength.  If he was shocked, he didn't slow to show it.  He came back again, circling around me for a better angle, but I would not allow him to pass out of my range of vision.  I spun with him, keeping my purple eyes locked on his seething black orbs.  In the surreal world of our unbelievable speed, the pressures exerted by wind resistance and momentum tore at our cloaks and fur, causing them to ripple majestically against our paths of motion, and our slowed perception made that rippling appear as a sinuous and beautiful dance of fabric and fur. Had it not been so deadly, one might have called it a form of art.

Our swords met again, ringing loudly as they crashed and turned one another aside.  I could see heavily armored human forms finally coming into position to attack, and I knew that soon I would be surrounded.  As fast as I was, I would be hard pressed to dodge every sword thrust that came aimed at my back.  I pressed my attack on the Knight of Ethan, forcing myself faster.  That soon became my chant to follow.  Faster.  Faster.  Faster, still.  The strains on my body were terrible, but I bore them and fought on.  Finally my enemy's defense faltered.  It had actually happened in less time than it would take for most men to draw a couple of breaths, but it had felt much longer as we dueled at speeds beyond the realm of reason.  My opponent's guard came up low, and the point of my blade slipped under his failed form and pierced his chest, skewering his lungs and heart with surprising ease.  I tore the blade aside as I drew it out, a messy move, but one that would assure that my foe was really dead.  I watched in slow motion as the light faded from his eyes, and he began to collapse to the ground.  Another nightmare face to haunt my sleep, I thought.

My heart gave a painful jump in my chest, followed a breath and then by another, I grimaced in shock and felt my head swim.  I dropped out of my sped up perception against my will and found myself face to face with impending death.  A guard was charging at me, easy enough to handle at full speed, but unavoidable at normal pace.  His blade was leveled for my throat.  I reached for my speed, and felt that same terrible pain in my chest.  In vain desperation I attempted to bring my sword up, but I knew it would not respond fast enough without my body's full speed at my disposal.  A great rend formed across my would-be killer's face, and a moment later a gout of blood spurted forth from the new opening in his head and he fell over.  Malice appeared behind him, slowing down, her sword at the end of the arc that had killed the man who would have killed me.  I swung back around, looking for my next attacker, but every opponent in the room lay dead upon the floor.

Wisp was off to one side, wiping blood from her weapon onto the tabard of a fallen guard.  She had apparently joined our battle at some point, though I couldn't have said when.  There was an edge of anger on Malice's face as she walked up to me.  “Why did you stop?  You nearly got yourself killed.  Why did you drop pace in the middle of battle?”  I looked around in shock, hardly believing that so many Knights and human guards had been dispatched so quickly.  I had certainly not done my share.  My heart pounded, and my head spun.  “Answer me, Lowin.  Do you want to die or something?”

I looked blankly at her for a moment.  I wasn't sure how to answer that question.  I put my hand over my heart, "I kept pushing for speed, so I could beat that Knight, but just as I beat him I felt this terrible pain in my chest.  The speed fell off after that, and I couldn't get it going again.”  I fumbled for an explanation.

Malice's look of anger became intermingled with one of worry. “You can't do that, Lowin.  You can't keep pushing for speed when you hit your limit.  Your heart is human, and a human heart can only do so much, even with our improvements.  You can kill yourself like that.”  For a moment she looked like she might hit me, but instead she spun around, turning her back to me, "Are you alright now?”

I flexed my muscles and relaxed, feeling the thrum of my heart in my chest.  Everything felt like it was working, but a seed of doubt had been planted in my mind.  What good was being faster and stronger, if my heart could not handle the load of such exertions?  I had known my limits, and I had intentionally pushed them, but the limits were a difficult to define area of my being.  I felt like I should be able to do more than I could.  My heart was calming, the pain leaving my chest.

“I think I'm going to be fine," I said, uncertainty edging my words.

“He needs a Kaziem Wolf heart.  It would even out his other abilities.”  Wisp said from where she was still crouched, removing coin pouches from fallen bodies.

“No.”  Malice said definitively.  “That's too dangerous, and I don't know who we could get to perform such a risky procedure anyway.”

“You've had it done, haven't you?  You must have been conscious during most of the procedure.  You could do it.”  Wisp said.

Malice shook her head in negative reply.  “I won't do that.  It is... a terrible ordeal.  I am one of three to have survived the process, and it was not a pleasant experience.  Fifteen others have not been so lucky, and they were good, strong Knights.”

My curiosity was peaked.  “What is the Kaziem Wolf heart, and what does it do?”

“No," Malice said once more.  “We'll not even talk about that.  We're not going to do it, so talking about it is pointless.  Even if it was a possibility, and it certainly is not, we still have much work to finish, and we certainly don't have the months of time it takes for our bodies to repair that kind of change.  We need to find Kye and get out of here as quickly as possible.  Put the Kaziem heart out of your mind for good.”

Wisp shrugged, "He'll never reach his full potential without it.”

The prospect of replacing my heart with that of a monster was frightening.  Lucidil had once told me that my heart was the one thing I must never allow to be damaged, but apparently even the heart was not completely sacred to our twisted bodies.  If I were to lose my heart, how much humanity would be left to me?  I looked at Malice, her face still set in a line of anger, and realized that she was as grounded in humanity as ever despite all her changes.  I remembered the scar on her chest that ran between her breasts, and realized exactly what that scar actually meant.  It was the remnant of the process that had removed her human heart and replaced it with that of a beast.  Malice, for all that her heart was that of a beast, was one of the best people I knew.

“Let us go.  We need to find Kyeia and get her out of here soon," Malice said, not bothering to return her sword to its scabbard.  She looked to me, locking her green eyes on my own.  “Lowin, do not push yourself too far while we fight.  Your heart will remain weak for a short time until it can totally recover from the strain.  If you die, then all of this is for nothing, do you understand?”

“Yes," I said, though I didn't fully understand.  Our mission was to save Kyeia.  If I were to die, that was something that I was willing to accept, so long as Kye was rescued.

“Wisp, you may go your own way now.  I hope that you find your way to freedom," Malice said, turning to address the black-eyed woman.

“Actually," Wisp said, standing from her grim work of looting the dead.  “I think I will accompany you and Lowin.  It will be easier to exit this compound in the company of others than on my own.  They surely will not let me leave here unquestioned while I am supposed to be on guard duty in the dungeon.  Better that I come out fighting, than end up locked in the dungeon myself.”

Malice shrugged.  “If that is what you want.  I will not stop you.”

“Besides, I can lead you to where you need to start looking.  I know my way around the building better than either of you," Wisp added.

“Any help that expedites our work here today is welcomed," I said with a nod to Wisp.

“Good, let us go," she answered, and fell into the position of lead.  Malice went behind her, and I took up the rear, worry gnawing at my bones.  I needed my heart to hold out for me until we'd found and rescued Kye.  If it lasted that long, then I felt I could die happily.  Once she was free, I didn't care what happened to me any longer.  I owed her so much, and I would not let myself fall before paying it back.  I just needed my strength to hold a little longer.

Back out in the halls of the villa, we were at a sudden advantage.  We were three skilled warriors and, even if we encountered a guard and hostilities came of it, we outnumbered the single man patrols.  Wisp also knew the patrol routes, and so was able to guide us around the areas of heaviest traffic.  Thanks to her guidance we were able to travel as far as the east wing without encountering so much as a single guard, human or Knight.  Our luck, however, could not hold indefinitely.  The entrance to the east wing was guarded by three humans and a single Knight of Ethan standing in front of a heavy gate.  Wisp led us straight to the gate, not slowing in her approach.  As we drew near, the guards came to attention, weapons readied.

The Knight of Ethan, tall and imposing in his shifting cloak, stepped forward. “Wisp, what is your business here?  You do not belong on this side of the building.”  The guard's voice was gruff, but not laced with “the voice.”  His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, fingers tense.

“You see...”  Wisp began, but she spoke no further words.  Her body launched into motion.  In a single strike the cloaked warrior's head was separated from his neck, but the young Knight, yet another fallen into villainy since meeting me I realized, did not stop there.  In the space of a breath all four men guarding the east wing entrance were downed.   Her killing spree ended, the trail of blur that had been her form coming to rest in almost the same position she'd started.  “...we have business in the east wing.”  She finished.

She retrieved the gate key from the guard and unlocked the door barring our way.  I was shocked by the ferocity with which she accomplished her goals, but at the same time I understood the necessity.  We were in an enemy fortress and outnumbered.  Every advantage must be taken.  The pile of dead bodies was growing higher by the minute.  We had now killed five Knights of Ethan.  That many dead, when so many had already been killed at Fell Rock, was a terrible cost to the king.  If I hadn't already been wanted for treason, I knew that there would be no escaping that fate now.  There was no life left for me in the kingdom of my birth.

The east wing was the smallest portion of the villa, and searching it was easy enough.  We had only to look for a room that was heavily guarded enough to be the one we wanted.  Many rooms we passed had single guards outside them, either a Knight or a human, mostly dependent, I guessed, upon how important was the secret kept therein, but that which we were looking for we knew was guarded by two Knights of Ethan.  The Knights we did pass showed no interest in us, assuming that if we were there we must be there legitimately.  I wondered how long the bodies we'd left behind would go unnoticed.  If we were lucky, it wouldn't be until the next changing of the patrols.

Finally, we turned a corner and came within sight of our goal.  There were two stoic guards facing out, dressed in cloaks of shifting fabric.  We approached them cautiously.  They were at the end of a corridor and as we drew nearer I knew that they must be aware of where we were going.  There was only one place for us to be going.  The door with the two guards was the only one down this stretch of hallway.  I saw them straighten as we approached and knew that beneath their cloaks they were getting ready for whatever trouble we might bring.  My eyes went to the door between them.  Beyond that sheet of wood was Kyeia.  The woman I had loved, and had thought dead, was now so very close that if I were to run I might be at her side in less than a minute.  Running, of course, was out of the question.  I would be cut down before I could even turn the door handle, but my patience was wearing thin.

“Turn back.  You have no business in this hallway," one of the guards called, and his tones were heavy with “the voice,” the threat as evident as he could possibly make it.  They both drew sword, obviously a protocol-based reaction.  I guessed that they had been told to allow only certain people within range of the room, and we were not those people.  My hands twitched at my sides.  I didn't want to be held back any longer.  Something terrible and powerful broke free within me.  My restraint, carefully held in check for so long, shattered, and I charged the door, flashing into full speed as my weapon came to my hand.  Of course the guards had time to see me coming, and so met my charge with blows aimed to kill.

I was maddened beyond normal means, however, and my already immense strength was doubled in my haze of frustration.  My blade crashed into first one Knight's sword, then the other, and the force of my blow drove both their weapon points aside.  I did not relent.  I slashed out with my free hand, harnessing all the force I could muster.  My blow ripped the better part of the first Knight's face off, splashing the adjacent wall with brains and gore.  Before I could spin to attack the other enemy, I felt a burning streak of cold-lightning that started on my left side, just above my hip, and carried all the way through to the right of my body.  The second guard had recovered from my initial sword strike, and his blade was now piercing my body, the hilt pressed against my left hip, and the blade tip protruding at an odd angle from my right side, slightly beneath the pit of my arm.  I saw the murderous look in his eyes, and the shifting of his hand on his weapon as he prepared himself to rip the sword free, a move I knew would tear me mostly in half.  My free hand streaked out, claws sharpening to points finer than any crafted blade, and severed his arm below the shoulder.  Even as I struck his arm from him, a sword point pierced his head and the life fled his face.  The world slowed for me then, the rush of battle ebbing away, and I looked to Malice who stood with her sword still in the position of the killing blow she had just struck.  She drew the weapon free and the body fell away.  Her eyes, like brilliant emeralds, sparkled with such a look of terror and confusion.  I took a deep breath, and it rattled in my lungs, causing me to cough.  Blood misted into the air.

I tried to turn toward the door, but the sword running through my body made turning difficult, and a cold chill passed through me.  I coughed again, blood spattering the front of my cloak and running in droplets down the stain resistant fabric.  I looked to the place where the sword pierced my body and saw that it had torn straight through my rare garment.  I regretted the damage profusely.  My eyes closed, and I forced them open.

I was so close to seeing Kye again.  I re-sheathed my weapon, grabbed the hilt of the sword that ran through me and pulled, and it started to slide out.  The angle at which it had passed through me made it impossible to draw it entirely free in a single pull, so I had to choke up on the blade and draw more of it out.  More of the sword came free, the world spun.  I was on my knees, my hand still clenched about the blade of the sword, but now Malice was in front of me, a look of mixed panic and fear on her features that I had never seen there before.  I could see Wisp, standing back, a sickened look on her face.  I shook my head and looked at the sword still protruding from me.  I drew a deep breath, coughed up more blood, and grabbed the blade again and pulled.  This time the blade slid far enough out that gravity did the rest of the work.  It fell away from me, and clattered to the ground.  I heard voices and looked up again.

Malice was looking at me, talking, but I couldn't make out what she was saying.  The words seemed far away and jumbled.  I stood up, though my legs were numb and resisted the effort.  Malice seemed distressed, anger obvious on her face, but the sting of that anger was taken away by the look of worry hidden beneath it.  Were things really so bad, I wondered?  I noticed the hole in the other side of my cloak, and groaned internally.

Inside my body I could feel a deep burning replacing the cold streak that had been the metal of the sword.  I ignored that sensation and took a step towards the door.  It was close.  I took another step, and this time I was within range of it.  I reached for the handle, the effort to do so far more difficult than it should have been.  Suddenly Malice was at my side, lifting my arm over her shoulders, and holding me up.  I opened my mouth to thank her, but the words wouldn't come out.  She turned the handle of the door and dragged me through the opening.  Blackness edged my vision, and I realized that my eyes were trying to close.  I forced them open again.  I was in a white room, with a bed at the center.  There were tables covered in instruments that I didn't recognize, but it was the bed that drew my attention.  There was a figure lying atop it, but I couldn't see it from where I was.  I forced myself to take a step forward, but it was difficult.  Wisp passed by Malice and me, walking to the bed.  She looked down at the figure on the bed, and then looked back at me and there was such a look of distress on her face that I nearly felt overwhelmed by panic.  I wanted to ask her what was wrong but my lips wouldn't form the words.  My heart began to beat heavily in my chest, and the burning in my body intensified.  My right arm, which had been going numb, began to tingle, and I took another step forward.

Wisp's lips were moving, but I still couldn't make out what she was saying.

“How bad?”  I heard Malice's voice for the first time since I was injured in the battle, the words were distant but coming clearer.

Wisp replied but I missed all the words but the last, “...bad.”

I took another step towards the bed, my feet growing firmer beneath me.  I drew in a deep breath, and it didn't rattle in my chest.  My wounds were going to heal.  I was tired though.  I had not felt so exhausted in as long as I could remember.  Even the body of a Knight, of a Broken Sword, of whatever I was now, a monster, even my body could grow tired.

“Lowin, I don't know if...”  Malice began, but I had the strength now to speak, and I cut her off.

“I need to see her.”  I pulled myself away from my green-eyed friend and walked to Kye's bedside.  Each step I took, I grew stronger thanks to the gift given to me by the girl I knew lay on that bed.  Each breath I drew came with less pain, as wounds that would have killed even most Knights of Ethan, healed within me, because Kye had given me her life.  By the time I reached the bedside, maybe ten steps, I barely hurt at all.  I looked down at the form laying in the bed, and whatever hope I'd held of walking into the countryside hand and hand with my love broke inside me.  The figure in the bed was indeed Kye, but little remained to tell by.

Her hair was an unhealthy shade of gray, and thin to the point that it was missing in many places.  Her skin was waxy, her cheeks - though all the lines might be familiar - were made alien by their sunken and hollow appearance.  Where her eyes had once been, were two holes full of puckered scar tissue.  I collapsed to my knees at the bed side, taking one of Kye's hands in mine.  It was almost skeletal, seemingly more fragile than the finest glass figurine.  Had I closed my fist, I felt I would have crumpled and destroyed her.

“Kyeia?”  I spoke her name softly, but she did not stir.  If not for my keen hearing, and acute senses, I wouldn't have known she lived at all.  I felt a single tear trace its line down my face, and knew that I was crying.  I wanted her hand to grip mine, for her to reply to me in some way, but there was nothing.  I could sense nothing of the Kye I'd known.  She was in the room, but at the same time, she was gone somewhere beyond any place that I could reach.

“She has been like this since they brought her here," an unfamiliar male voice spoke from a corner of the room.  I heard swords clearing scabbards, but I was in no mood to fight any longer.  I sat numbly, holding on to the fragment of my love that remained, and trying to remember the Kye I had known so many months ago.

“What is wrong with her?”  I asked, not turning to face the voice.  The fact that Malice and Wisp had not attacked whoever else was in the room and that all remained silent, should have struck me as strange, but my concerns were not where they should have been.

“You should know that better than any, Lowin Fenly.  She has lost her eyes, the keys to her being, and she is adrift in a living death," the voice replied.  I turned to face it.  Even in my grief I started at the sight of the figure in the corner.  It looked like a creature of Kye's people in shape, but seemed comprised of pale light and fog, its form shimmering and shifting at the whims of the air currents in the room.  It moved towards the bed, causing Malice to step into its path.

“Hold your place," she warned, leveling her sword at the insubstantial creature.

“I mean no harm," it said, retreating to its corner.  It appeared, when its form stayed consistent enough to make such judgments, like a man in his later years, with a short, cleanly cut, beard, and long, but well-kept hair.  Its clothing was a style of robe that was unfamiliar, but that reminded me of something one might see in an artist's portrait of a long dead scholar.

“What are you, how do you know me, and what do you know of Kye's condition?”  I asked, needing answers more than I ever had before.  To have come so far only to have all hope crushed was something I had not been prepared for.

“I am Tyvel Ure.  I am the one responsible for the discovery that led to the creation of the binding process.  Or, I was Tyvel Ure.  Now I am just a memory of Tyvel Ure, contained in this artifact of bone from his body.”  He gestured to a black box on a shelf near where he was standing, "When I was dying, they didn't want to lose my knowledge, so they bound me here, and will not let me go.  I assure you I am no danger to any of you.  I have no substance.”  He ran his hand through a table near where he was standing and his palm phased through, the mist that formed him breaking apart and reforming on the bottom side of the table top.  “And cannot go far from my box.  As for the girl...  When she was brought here, there was a great deal of excitement that she was alive, but as they studied her, taking samples of skin and flesh, they couldn't figure out exactly what it was that was keeping her alive.  They felt that it was important to understand the secrets, but they couldn't unravel the truth.  Slowly, she began to dwindle, her body growing weaker, her appearance fading, but she kept on breathing.  They still don't know why she's alive. But, I have discovered the truth.  I know you, Lowin, from the information brought in with the girl.  Who else would come here in such a state especially considering... Oh, but that's the real secret. ”

I looked back at Kye, her wasted face barely recognizable.  “Tell me, then, shade, why does she live on like this, what is the secret that you hold?  Tell me, or leave me be, but do not torment me with promises of hope you will not deliver.”

Tyvel sighed from his place in the corner.  “I wouldn't tell them because I feared what they would do if they knew, but I will tell you so long as you are willing to make me a promise, Lowin.”

I was in no mood to negotiate with the ghost, but I had little choice.  “Fine, what is it that you want?”

“I just want you to take me with you when you leave.  I don't want to be here any longer.  I have done a terrible thing in creating the binding process.”  He gestured towards the bed, towards Kye.  “I do not wish to remain in this house I built any longer.  It has become an evil place.  To help me, you need only take my box when you leave, and I can aid you even more.  I know a great deal, including how to get out of here without having to fight the whole way.”  There seemed to be a sincere pleading in his voice. I knew not whether I could trust him, or if he would betray me at some point, but I needed to know what he had to tell me. We would need to know how to escape the villa with as little trouble as possible if I was to carry Kye out with us, which I intended to do.  Whether she ever woke again or not, I would not leave her to die in the hands of the king's researchers.

“Fine, it is done.  Now what secret do you keep?”  I made my decision without consulting the others, but I was in no fit state of mind to take advice.

“She is pregnant.”  The ghost's words caused me to literally stumble backwards from where I was crouched at Kye's side.

“What?”  I asked incredulously.

“Yes, she is carrying your child, Lowin.  I had suspected that it was yours, but now that I see your eyes, there can be no denying it.  The binding wouldn't be so pure if your connection hadn't been very deep.”  He seemed to grow distracted for a minute, as if thinking about something, but his attention focused again in a moment.  “Kyeia will not die so long as she is carrying the child,” He said, hovering across the room to her bed.  This time neither Malice nor Wisp tried to stop him.  “She is fed very little, and is giving all nutrients to the child, so she does not show the pregnancy, but I know the baby lives within.  I see things differently than the living.  I can detect the glow of life.  There are two forces of life in her, though hers is but a flickering candle in the wind.”

I shook my head, "But we only lay together once...”

“My boy, it takes but once," Tyvel said softly.

I was to be a father.  It was a turn of events I could never have anticipated, and one that filled me with such a mix of emotions that I was at a loss as to how to react.  I would have a son, or a daughter, but I would be losing the woman I loved forever.  Then there was the question of what sort of father I might make.  Could any child love such a thing as I had become?  I was a thing of battle and death, certainly not a care-giver.  I knew nothing of raising a child, and worse yet, I endangered my own offspring by simply being alive.  I had made too many enemies that might pose a threat to my child's life just because of its relation to me.  What hope did any progeny of mine have?  I found myself filled with fear for the life that had not yet fully kindled, and sadness at the life that dwindled before my eyes.  What excitement I might have felt at the news of being a sire was squelched in the mire of worries that such news brought with it.

A hand touched my shoulder.  “We should be going Lowin.  We don't know how long we have before someone notices the trouble we've stirred," Malice's voice was full of concern, whether for me or our situation I couldn't be sure, but it brought me out of my thoughts and back into the moment.

“Of course, you're right," I said, clearing my head as best I could, and pushing away the crushing emotional burden of all that was happening.  I would have to deal with all else later.  Right now my friends, my unborn child, and Kyeia needed my immediate attention.  I walked to the bed and picked up Kye's fragile body.  She seemed to weigh nothing in my arms.  Whether that was simply an illusion of my immense strength, or a testament to how much weight she'd lost in her sickness, it pained me to have it so.  It seemed as though she were barely real, as though she were as much a ghost as the phantom Tyvel, standing in the corner.

I saw Wisp walk over and pick up the black box that Tyvel said contained the bone fragment to which he was bound.  I half expected him to waver in substance as she moved the box, or to be moved along with it, but he didn't seem to change at all.

“All right, specter, lead us out of here," I told him.  I did not trust the ghost, but I had given him my word and I would keep it until such a time as he gave me reason not to.  I was tired of the whole mess; the constant fighting, the raised then crushed hopes, the hard decisions.  I wanted only to spend what little time I had left with the woman I loved before she died, even if that time would be spent in silence, as I knew it surely would.  I looked down at her still face, wanting to see some indication there that she knew I was holding her, that we were together again, finally.  Her eyeless sockets stared into nothingness, and her face was slack and emotionless.  A tear fell from my right eye but I ignored it.

“I shall take you to the catacombs, but you must stay close to me," Tyvel said, indicating Wisp with a gesture.  “If that box gets too far away, I cannot maintain my form, and will not be able to lead.”

Wisp eyed the spirit with a look of suspicion.  “There are no catacombs beneath this villa, spirit.  I have been here a long time, and have held many guard positions.  Those I haven't held, I have heard of.  I would know if there were chambers below this villa.  What game are you playing?”

Tyvel simply shrugged, a slight smile on his lips.  “My dear girl, I assure you there are catacombs beneath this villa.  I should know as it is my house, and I am the one who drew up the plans upon which it was based.  There are tunnels beneath us, of that you can be certain.  They have remained untouched for generations, but they are still there, and so are the secret paths that lead to them.”  The ghost walked across the room to a closet at the far end and stopped, "If you would all be so kind as to follow me?”

We did as the ghost asked, all of us wary of the strange spirit we were following.  The inside of the closet was large, easily big enough for all of us to fit within comfortably.  Once Wisp was in far enough for Tyvel to progress, he indicated that we should shut the door and walked to the back wall of the closet, the only area not lined with shelves.  “Come, young lady," he gestured for Wisp who approached cautiously, tying the small black box containing the ghost's bone fragment to a rope line on her sword belt to free up her hands.

“You'd have me believe there is something hidden beyond this wall, and that none of the staff has discovered it?”  She asked, as she came closer.

The ghost seemed nonplussed, "Of course there is.  Most of the main rooms have access to the catacombs, though very few people have ever known of their existence.  I want you to move your hand as I do, across the stone.  Be careful to do it precisely.  If you make a mistake we shall have to start over.”  The phantom's hand reached out to touch the stone wall before him, and Wisp followed his example.  Tyvel traced a pattern across the stone, pushing, and sliding his fingers across different points in the wall.  As he traced his surprisingly complex pattern, Wisp mimicked the design with her own hand.  After several long seconds of this, there was an audible click and the wall slid back and to the side, exposing a narrow stairway that led down.  “...And we are free," the ghost said, a smile on his glowing features.

We trudged into darkness.

We walked out of the villa easier than we entered, and traveled far into the king-less territories beyond.  Wisp did not leave us, despite the fact that she could have done so freely at any time.  Whether she decided she liked our company, or merely thought we might provide a place for her now that she was an enemy of the king, I never thought to ask.  We traveled for weeks, caring for Kye and learning of all that had been done to her in the interim since she'd been brought to the villa.  Those stories still raise my ire and threaten to break my spirit.  I often wish I had never questioned our spirit guide on those details.  Finally, as Kye's health became ever poorer, I realized that we needed to stop our traveling and settle down, or neither Kyeia nor our child would survive.  It was then that I put my king's sword to the best use that it ever received.  Together with the help of Wisp and Malice, we built a cabin deep in the woods of the most forsaken area of the world we could reach.  We hewed trees with our blades, and shaped the wood with the finest forged steel the kingdom could produce.  As I said, a sword has never seen a nobler purpose.  The beasts of the area we settled in were dangerous, and the hunting difficult, but we three were strong enough to carve out a living.

Five months after the completion of our cabin, Kyeia died while giving birth to our child.  I buried her in the heart of a quiet grove of trees, and put up a head stone of amethyst rock in which I chiseled her name using my wood-dulled and abused sword.  I lay the blade upon the earth there, and left that grove knowing I would not return.  Some can find peace in visiting the final resting place of a loved one, but for me only bitterness at all that had been lost resided in the ground there.  The Kye that I loved existed only in my memories, and those memories are what I chose to hold onto.  I would keep them, and eventually pass them on to my daughter so that she might have something of her mother, though it would be only my handed down memories.

I named my daughter Kaylien.   I would have liked to give her an Uliona name, in honor of her mother, but I knew of none to give.  The name I chose was a human name, but one that reminded me of Kyeia.  It rolled on the tongue in a similar way, to me.  She was a beautiful child.  She had eyes of brilliant purple, but instead of being entirely purple, with streaks of white like the people of the Uliona, her eyes were like those of humans, only dressed in a shade that I had never seen among my folk.  She had a shock of down-soft pale blond hair and an intense gaze that made you feel that, even as a baby, she was looking right through you.  I missed her mother terribly, but my love for my daughter sustained me.  In her I found a reason to move from day to day.

I wish that I could say that my story ended there, in that cabin among friends, family, and phantoms, but I'm afraid that is only where it began.  That peaceful time in the woods was to be short-lived.

The Vengeful Malice

Vol. 2 of The Hungering Saga

by

Heath Pfaff

Edited by Andrea Brooks

version 2.0

The Vengeful Malice is ©2009 by Heath Pfaff

Revised Edition © 2012

All rights reserved.

For two years, my life deep in the woodlands far beyond the kingdom of men was one of peace.  I raised my daughter Kaylien with the help of my friends Malice and Wisp, fallen Knights of Ethan, like myself, and a ghost named Tyvel, who haunted a remnant of his own body.  We lived beyond the reaches of any habitation, in the dangerous wilds, because we were not welcome within the safety of the human holdings.  I had been the catalyst for it all, making enemies with nearly everyone I crossed, and leaving few - if any - comrades behind.  I was a traitor to the king, and a traitor even to the forces that opposed the king, all because of my own foolish actions. Perhaps it was naïve of me, but I hoped to leave the chaos of that world behind when I fled from it.  Chaos, though, once it has you, never lets go.

I lived on in a state of ignorance, hoping that the happenings beyond my private corner of existence would lose sight of me and my circle of friends and family, but time churned on without us, never quite forgetting that we yet had a part to play, whether we wished it or not.

Wisp sat with her arms wrapped tightly about Kaylien, her scale-clad forelimbs sheltering the child with surprising tenderness, despite the vicious claws and brutal strength that gave those lethal digits all the power necessary to rend a block of wood to splinters.  There was a smile on the young woman's lips, one that she wore often when taking care of my daughter.   I realized, as I watched the two year old silently play with the once fierce soldier's shoulder length hair, that Wisp had been a better parent to Kay than either Malice or myself. Wisp’s hair had grown longer in our exile; it had been kept much shorter while she was still in service to the king.  Two horns protruded from the new light-blond growth atop her head, making her appear like a demon temptress fallen from some ancient story, but she laughed as Kay gave her hair a firm tug, the expression comfortable on her face.

If it hadn't been for Wisp, I wasn't sure if Kaylien would have even survived birth.  Though I had not known it until much after meeting the former Knight of Ethan, Wisp had been an apprentice midwife before joining the Knights, and along with her formal training had also helped raise her two younger brothers.  Out of all of us, she was the one most knowledgeable of children and how to raise them, and she did a wonderful job.  My stoic daughter, who even at only two years of age seemed to calmly and quietly consider everything around her with intense scrutiny, loved her deeply.  It was easy to allow a sense of jealousy to creep into my heart when I saw them interact as easily as they did, but I knew that was foolish.  In our own way, we each had a part to play in taking care of Kay.

Malice loved the girl as well.  Any time the child was in her arms, Malice went immediately from her cold, severe beauty to a softer, happier version of herself that was full of smiles and easy laughter.  I didn't tell her so, but I liked to see her when she was with Kay.  She rarely smiled or laughed, but instead kept herself composed and professional, a stalwart reminder of what she'd been prior to our leaving the kingdom of men.   She had served as a weapons master for the Knights of Ethan before she aided me, making herself a traitor to the crown she had served for so long.  I often wondered if she regretted her decision, but I could never get up the nerve to ask her plainly.  I feared how she might answer.  For her part, she was still training me, always trying in her own ways to turn me into a better fighter.  It was my opinion that I was safe, too far removed from the king's realm to need worry, but Malice refused to let my training falter.

Tyvel, a strange shadow of the man who had helped craft the process by which the Knights of Ethan were given their incredible and terrible power, also did his part to help out around our home in his own way.  He couldn't interact with physical entities in any way, but he could keep an eye on Kay and let others know if she was getting herself into trouble, and my daughter was certainly one to get herself into trouble.  Since developing the ability to walk, she had made it her personal goal to explore every nook of our home and its surroundings, resulting in many terrifying moments of panic for the entire household.  Tyvel seemed to honestly enjoy the process of her growth, taking great delight in each new ability she added to her repertoire of skills.  He had been ecstatic the first time she spoke, and had spent every moment since trying to coax further words from the uncooperative girl.

Wisp said that Kay was developing fast for a child of her age.  She had gotten to the point where she could string together words into coherent sentences, and she seemed to grasp more than she let on about the conversations taking place around her, though it was impossible to be certain exactly how much she really understood since she'd always been a quiet child.  Wisp sat the feathery haired little girl down, and immediately Kay went running from the room, Tyvel falling in behind her, the ever dutiful observer.

“Be careful, dear, you'll run into something if you dash about like that all the time!”  I heard his voice call as he chased in the child's wake.

Wisp smiled at the departing little girl and ghost before turning her attention on me.  “How long will you be gone?”

“I would think no longer than two weeks.”  I wasn't quite sure how long Malice and I would have to be out, but I knew that it would be some time.  We were in need of supplies, and game was getting more difficult to track down in the local region.  The more we hunted, the further the animal life seemed to migrate away.  What was worse was that while some possible game remained in the area, it was getting harder to determine what was truly safe to eat.

There was a breed of deer that lived in the woods surrounding us, but the meat of that particular animal was highly toxic.  Luckily, the beast also smelled putrid when prepared, so we had thought to test the meat before consuming it, which thankfully saved us all from unintentional poisoning.  The predatory beasts in the area were fierce, and could easily hunt a creature to extinction.  It was obvious that, like the strange poisonous deer, other local wild life had also adapted in their own ways to keep that from happening.  While this was great for the creatures in the area, it meant that we had to travel further and further afield to find meat for the table, and that was a prospect I did not look forward to.  It was that, or somehow learn to eat poison.

“So long?”  Wisp asked, her smile fading.  I had come to think of the young fallen Knight as a sister over the years we had shared the cabin in the woods.  I knew her well enough to know that she didn't like being left alone, but there was little choice in the matter.  Wisp was the best with Kay, and Malice was the best at tracking and hunting.  Since the woods were dangerous I couldn't let Malice go alone, so that meant that Wisp would have to stay behind to watch our home and tend the child.  The area around our home was mostly safe.  We had made sure of that over the course of our first year living there, so it wasn't that she had to fear the beasts in the area.  In fact, she was well suited to handling any such problems on her own.  What really bothered Wisp, I knew, was fear for Malice and I until we came back, and not knowing where we were, or what we were doing, was difficult for her.  If something happened to us while we were out, she would be entirely alone with a child depending on her, and that was a bleak prospect when you’re stranded in the deep wilderness.  She might have Tyvel, but he would be little help in caring for a young child when he could do nothing to interact with the world around him.

I put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, the only sign of physical affection I ever offered Wisp.  It wasn't that she was hideous, or that she would not have reciprocated further physical approaches, but I simply saw Wisp as an older sister and nothing more.  Though she was technically older than me by nearly ten years, she didn't appear the elder of the two of us.  Her youthful visage was a result of our peculiar nature.

“We'll come back as soon as we can.  Perhaps the hunting will go well.”  I didn't have much faith in those words, and I knew that we desperately needed to start stocking up stores for the coming winter.  It would be a long hunt, but I didn't want her to worry any more than she already did.

Wisp simply nodded, her smile not returning.  She knew the truth as well as I did.  “You should at least say goodbye to your daughter before you leave.  She will miss you.”

I shrugged.  “We won't be gone long, and she'll barely know I'm gone so long as she has you and Tyvel to drive mad.”

Wisp's features soured.  “You really should show more affection towards your daughter, Noble.”  She used my name as given to me by the Broken Swords.  It was not a title I had given out often, but Wisp seemed to prefer it.  “She loves her father, and you need to let her know that you love her too.”

What Wisp said rang all too true, but since Kye's passing I had found myself disinterested in growing close to anyone, even my own daughter.  I was not mean to her, nor did I ever ignore her, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her that I loved her, or to hold her close to me as both Wisp and Malice did.  I did love her, but I had never vocalized the sentiment.  I didn't know why that was, and it bothered me.  Anytime I thought of saying those words, I felt a terrible rush of fear, as if by speaking the words aloud I would be somehow condemning her.

“She knows how I feel.”  I said gruffly, perhaps more so than I meant to. I turned away, and I heard Wisp sigh in exasperation.

“Fine, I will tell her you said goodbye.  Travel safe, and make sure you both return in one piece.”  Wisp said, giving in to my stubbornness.

I walked from our cozy cabin, with its three small bedrooms and central chamber, and out into the cool air of the world. Finally, I turned to face our hand-built abode.  It wasn't beautiful, and probably would have made most professional builders laugh, but it kept us warm, and was the closest thing I'd had to a true home in a long time.  I took a deep breath and let it out as I turned to face the path away from the cabin.  My warm breath fogged in the fall air.  Within my cloak of the finest Lucidil fabric, the cold did not touch me in the least.  I knew that while I wore that cloak the parts of me covered by it would be nearly invisible if I stood still, and that I would never feel extreme heat or chill.  I knew also that it would provide some minor protection from the dangers posed by knives and projectiles, but as was evidenced by the rough pattern of stitches that marred the otherwise incredible material, the cloth would not turn aside all blows.  The particular strike that had left that rend in the fabric had nearly cost me my life.  I shivered with the remembered chill of the metal that had pierced cleanly through my body.

Beyond the shelter of our cabin, Malice waited for me.  She stood tall and proud, as tall as me, if not only slightly shorter, and just as imposing as ever.  Her intense eyes were entirely green, but for the circle of white that traced each pupil with lines of constantly shifting white lightening streaking from the center.  My eyes were the same, though colored a deep purple, and Wisp's too were similar, though hers were solid black.  Our eyes were the source of our strength, the center of all our amazing abilities, but they were a curse for all that they were a blessing.  The cost of the eyes we wore was terrible, a lineage of evil started long ago by the kings of men.  I thought of Kyeia, and bit my lip to stifle the pain that stabbed at my heart as a memory of a quiet gravestone deep in the woods, nearly an hour's hard walk from our cabin, returned to me.  Someday I would have to tell Kay that story, and show her where her mother lay.  She deserved to know. . . someday.

“It's about time you were ready.  It's nearly midday.  We should have departed hours ago.”  Malice's voice had a heavier edge to it than it normally carried, and I realized that she was angry with me for something.  I doubted she would tell me what that something was.

“Fair enough, but there were things that needed to be seen to here before we left.”  I told her.  “I piled wood for the fire, and made sure there was enough fresh water sealed and ready for Wisp so she needn't make the run to the river constantly, having to drag Kay along with her.”

I thought Malice's expression may have softened to the slightest degree, but I couldn't be certain.  She turned and began walking down the foot-worn path from our small house.  I fell in at her side, knowing that our conversation was over for the time being.  My friend was strong willed, and would only speak when she had a good reason to.

My friendship with Malice had been a strange thing in the time that I'd known her.  I had started off terrified of her, when I knew her only as the fierce weapons instructor of the Knights of Ethan, but she had shown me a softer side of herself, a side that hurt and felt just as keenly as I did.  After that point, we had become good friends.  We'd also been lovers on two occasions in the past, both those times drawn into each other's arms by the intensity of the moment.  Perhaps it was that physical affection that had left me confused about what exactly Malice was to me.  Wisp was a sister, but what role did the green-eyed warrior at my side play?  She was nearly two hundred years older than I was, though she looked younger than me, the eternal youth of our kind working its magic.  She was sometimes a mentor, and ever a teacher, but she was also a good friend who knew when to listen, and how to make me listen when I needed to.  Since Kyeia's passing, though, things had become different between us in some way.

Malice was still always there when something needed to be done, and was quick to help in any situation where she knew she could be an asset, but her temper seemed quicker to fire, at least where I was concerned.  Though she was friendly with Kay and Wisp, she seemed distant from me, as though I were a point of frustration to be avoided.  I had asked Wisp if she knew what the problem was, but she had simply shrugged and said that Malice hadn't told her anything, and since she hadn't known us well before the quest to save Kye, she couldn't offer any insight.  Wisp, though, was lying to me.  She was bad at it.  She knew something that she wasn't telling.

I had left the matter alone at that point, not wanting to push another member of our small family into disgruntlement with me.  Besides, I realized some matters were better dealt with by oneself.  I simply had not made any progress past that point.  It would have been wiser of me to confront Malice, but I was stubborn.  It was far easier to ignore the problem and hope that it eventually righted itself.

It was several hours into our walk before Malice finally decided to speak to me, and when she did, her voice held that edge of authority it had always maintained in the days before we had become friends, back when she was only my teacher.  I sorely missed her friendship, but would not tell her so.  What she had to say surprised me.

“What is wrong with you, Lowin?”  She asked plainly.

I wasn't sure how to answer because I did not feel that anything was wrong with me.  Surely I had many problems, and perhaps I had distanced myself from the others a bit since Kye died, but I was not mean, or completely absent.  I looked at her blankly, confused.

“What is wrong with you?”  She restated her question, an edge of dangerous anger touching her voice.  “For two years now I have watched you sulk about the cabin, looking like the world is over, and though you don't complain you look like you've given up.  So, what exactly is your problem?”

I thought about what she'd asked for a moment, my mouth hanging agape.  I was perturbed with her for bringing such a topic up, but more so because she struck a valid point.  In many ways I had given up.  My love, Kye, was dead - and all the work that had gone in to saving her had been for nothing.  I couldn't shake that reality, and what was worse, I had to live with the fact that my eyes, and the incredible strength and power I lived with every day, was the reward reaped from her death.  That was eating me up inside, and had been ever since I had laid the gravestone that marked Kye's place of final rest.  She had died for my sake, and I would live on and on until someone killed me, with the knowledge that I had played a part in the death of the one woman I loved.

“I haven't given up.”  I said feebly, knowing the words for false as I spoke them.  My lackluster denial only served to prove the truth of Malice's accusation.

“By all that is foul in the world, Lowin, I understand that Kye's death has been hard on you, but it has been two years! You have a daughter that loves you dearly, and you barely know her.  We've all watched you shrink away from us as time goes by, but how much longer are you going to keep this up?”  The edge in Malice's voice had been replaced by a note of pleading.

I reacted hostilely without thinking, feeling as though Malice and Wisp were conspiring against me.  At some level I knew it wasn't so, but the part of my mind responsible for rational thought failed me entirely.

“I know my daughter as well as any of you, and I'm tired of being told how she should be raised by you and Wisp.  Why won't you two just leave me alone?!”  The last question I nearly screamed, and immediately regretted it as Malice turned her head away from me and pulled her hood low over her face.  The conversation was over, and I had proved only that Malice was right, and I was deeply wrong.

Kye was dead.  I knew that.  I had held her during her last moments of life, and I had dug the grave in which she was buried, but some part of me refused to move past that terrible event.  It was as though I'd buried the best part of myself in that damp hole with her.  Two years were gone, and while the pain had lessened, in the abyss left by the fading pain a great emptiness was growing that threatened to consume me.  It lived in me in every task I tried to complete, and every smile I feigned.  It lived in me when I looked at my daughter, a beautiful child whose face held so much of her mother, and it lived in every breath I stole from the world around me.  Emptiness.

I turned to Malice, my mouth opening to offer some form of apology, but no sound came forth.  I stared at the way the shifting fabric of her cloak, similar to my own but of an older design and not as cleverly adept at shifting color, clung to her tall, proud form.  I had not raised a hand to her, but how deeply had my words struck, and why couldn't I make myself say that I was sorry?  I turned my head away, and squinted the moisture from my eyes.  It would be a long hunting trip indeed.

The tension between Malice and I did not lessen until she finally found sign of a herd of Kazeal in the area, nearly four days into our hunting trip.  Kazeal were slightly smaller than deer in size, but had much heavier bodies.  They traveled in herds, grazing on any plant life below knee height.  They were slow runners, but each had a set of three razor sharp horns atop their head, which made them unappealing to most predators.  With our journey's goal in sight, Malice showed the closest semblance of good humor she'd had over the course of our entire journey.

Even I was feeling better as we drew closer and closer to the herd.  I had feared that we would need to travel much further afield before finding edible game with winter looming over us.  Kazeal were not great eating, but they could certainly keep us all from starving.  Wisp, Malice and I really ate very little due to our Knights of Ethan lineage, and Tyvel of course needed nothing at all, but Kay ate as much as any growing human child.  Between the four of us, we would need to have some store of food for the long winter months.  Even in our warmer climate, the winter could last a dangerous amount of time for those who did not prepare.

We tracked the herd for an hour before it finally came into sight.  The forest landscape we'd been traveling had opened up onto a wide, spacious expanse of grass still growing tall despite the coming onset of winter.  The Kazeal, hundreds of them, were wandering through the fields, their horned heads popping up in random sequence to watch for any threat.  Malice had brought us wide around them, keeping the wind in our faces, so as not to come in downwind of the creatures, a move that could be disastrous to a successful hunt.  With our shifting cloaks wrapped tight about us, we would be nearly impossible to see in the tall grass.  We descended a sloping hill to the edge of the grass, traveling with all the silent grace our powerful pawed feet would allow.

I turned my wolf-like ears, a gift stolen from a dangerous creature known as a Fell Beast; the same creature which had lent me its legs and powerful claws; and I was able to hone in to the subtle sounds of movement in the grass.  Over the years since acquiring my enhancements, I'd had much opportunity to perfect their use.  By hearing alone, even if I couldn't see exactly where our quarry rested in the tall grass, I could tell how far away, and in which direction they traveled.  Malice did not have my sharp hearing, so she relied on me to point out the direction in which we must move.  When it came time, the action would be fast but brutal, and she needed to know what direction to take, lest she charge in the wrong direction and miss her opportunity to take multiple kills.  We would need at least five beasts to make it through the winter.

It took but a moment for my senses to locate our targets.  Once I had them well fixed in my mind, and was certain they were not going to bolt before we were ready, I pointed out the location of two of the beasts to Malice.  Once we made our break for it, they would also run and Malice would have to adjust her attack accordingly, but if she could get them within sight before they left their hiding place she would have them.  We were far faster than any other animal when we needed to be.

Malice and I tensed, preparing to strike, that final moment before making our move seemed to drag on for an eternity.  Neither of us carried a weapon.  Our swords had been dulled and ruined while crafting our cabin, but each of us was more than properly equipped to kill.  For, while we had left behind the world of battles, glory and war, we were still creatures crafted to rain death.  As we prepared to strike, we each mentally prepared our bodies for the task, willing the claws that ended our Fell Beast arms to dangerously fine points.  We exploded into action as one, each taking cue from the tension created in our bodies.

I felt my heart surge in my chest as I took my first step, pushing my body faster than any human body was ever built for.  My eyes, cores of concentrated power burning like purple fire, adapted my body to the speed, slowing down my perception of the world around me so that it seemed like everything moved at a crawl. My powerful legs and arms complete with my reinforced bone structure allowed me to propel myself forward at a velocity beyond the human eye's ability to trace, though that mattered little since there was no one around to witness our hunt.

The distance between me and my quarry closed quickly, the small but dangerous herbivore only just lifting its head to see what was stirring in the grass as I fell upon it like a wolf to a hare.  Its muscles bunched, preparing to leap away and run to safety, but I was far faster, and even as I saw the message to flee reaching the creatures legs, a tremble running through its tendons just beneath its flesh, I closed the final distance and severed the creature's primary artery in its throat, killing it before it could even register that it was doomed.  I couldn't stop there, however, I needed to bring down at least one more.  I fell back to normal speed, my heart slowing in my chest.  It skipped a beat as it slowed, causing me to feel momentarily disoriented.

Ever since I'd pushed myself beyond my limits while in an effort to save Kyeia, I had felt that pang in my chest every time I came back down from full speed.  It was my heart reminding me that I had strained it far past the realm of safety, and it would not put up with such abuse again.  I did my best to ignore the signal of danger, knowing all too well where my limits were.  I let my ears focus on the next nearest source of movement, another of the prey beasts.  I had to work quickly while slowed down, but I couldn't locate my next target while at full acceleration.  Sound was difficult to decipher at high speed, it blurred and stretched even to my sensitive ears. In the course of a fight it wasn't as much of a problem, but in a situation where sound was the only clue I had to my next target, anything beyond my immediate range was too distorted to make sense of until I took a moment to stop and get my bearings once more.  A shifting of grass to my left alerted me to the next creature and I charged after it, my heart racing up to speed again.

This creature had heard me coming, and when I broke in to the grass near it, I nearly impaled myself on its lowered horns, but thankfully I had a significant mobility advantage. I twisted around its lowered horns, coming at it from the side and ending its life in a single smooth darting motion of my right hand.  The world lurched back to normal speed, my heart twittered in my chest, and I took a deep, calming breath.  From somewhere behind me I heard Malice's voice.

“I've got three, Lowin.  How did you do?”  She inquired, and I could hear the satisfaction in her voice.  She had done well, and she knew it.  She had also out performed me again.  I wasn't jealous, but I was disappointed in myself.  I felt that I was constantly struggling to keep up with my green-eyed friend.  She was close to being as fast and strong as I was, but she had an unending stamina, driven by a stout heart – a beast’s heart - that gave her an edge in any contest of either strength or speed.  She was also a more skilled fighter, and a better strategist.

“I've got two.”  I answered, picking up the carcass in front of me as I willed my claws to a safe dullness, and turned to retrieve the other animal.  We had enough to last the winter, and it hadn't taken us nearly as long as I'd anticipated.

“Good catch.  Bring them in and we will clean them so we can go home.”  Malice called back.  I was happy to do so.  I didn't enjoy hunting, particularly when Malice and I were not talking, which had been happening more and more frequently as the months passed.  Going home would be a great relief.  There, at least, I knew I could be alone.

I brought in my kills, and we worked over the bodies, retaining every piece that we could make use of and packaging them in a preservative spice that Wisp had prepared for us. The spice was a wondrous find, it grew in abundance not far from our home. Once wrapped and packed, if kept in a cool, dry place, the meat would stay good for as long as we would need it.  With frosty weather coming fast, I knew keeping things cold wouldn't be a problem much longer.

After cleaning the animals and packing them away, we walked to a nearby stream and washed the blood from our hands, the cool water a poignant reminder of the just how close the coming winter really was.  Malice was crouched at my side, and again I was taken by a desire to apologize for our fight those few days before, but once more my tongue stilled in my mouth, a useless piece of leather that did nothing but get in the way of my breathing.  Instead of saying what I should have, I stood up and walked away from the river, shaking my hands to dry them.  I'd found it was ponderously difficult to remove the water from my fur.  Time, it seemed, was the best cure.

“Wisp will be glad to see us back so soon.”  Malice said as she stood to join me.  “. . .and Kay will be happy to see her father home.”  She added, almost as if it were an afterthought, though I sensed Wisp had been the afterthought, and Kay the person Malice wanted me to be thinking about.

I smiled at the thought of my daughter, and then frowned, remembering a time just a few weeks before when I'd overheard Kay telling Wisp that sometimes, “Daddy is scary, like he's real angry.  Why doesn't he smile?”  Wisp had told her that her daddy did indeed smile, quite often, but Kay had seemed unconvinced.  After that, I had made an effort to spend less time in Kay's presence.  It wasn't done out of spite, I simply didn't want to frighten my own daughter.  Perhaps, I thought, in her great innocence she could see the monster that dwelt inside of me, the shadow of the beast that was responsible for her mother's death.  Certainly I saw that same beast in every pool of water and shaving mirror I gazed into.

“I'm not so sure.”  I said beneath my breath, addressing Malice's last statement.  Maybe Kay would be better off without her father.  Certainly her mother would have been.

“What was that?”  Malice asked, coming up behind me on her quiet, pawed feet.

“Let us make good time getting home.”  I replied.  “A warm fire, and my own bed sound nice right now.”

She walked past me grabbing up her heavy pack, which was now full of supplies for the winter, as she went.  She looked back over her shoulder at me, her green eyes dancing in the light of the fading day.  Her expression seemed sad, and I knew that she was not happy with my reply.  I grabbed my own pack, and we started our return trip in the same silence in which we'd first embarked.  We stopped to nap a few days later, having walked until our considerable energy was depleted.  I lay down upon the ground, my head upon my crossed arms, and fell quickly into sleep.  That night I dreamed as I hadn't dreamed in a long time.

I was at a cabin deep within the woods, lost beneath an oppressive canopy of green, which itself was lost beneath the cool dark cloak of night.  I swung around, trying to take in all of my surroundings, but I was confused and disoriented.  The cabin looked familiar to me, though it was not the place I called home, was it?  I had seen it at least once before.

It came to me in a flash.  I had once dreamed such a cabin, but now it was in a terrible state of disrepair.  The logs composing the walls were misaligned, and the front door was torn from its hinges.  I felt compelled to enter that house, and so I walked nearer, coming up onto a porch that was overgrown with the rampant plant life of the forest.  The paws of the Fell Beast, whose legs were now mine, trod carefully across the broken wood that composed the porch so as not to misstep and fall through the rotting timber.  I noted as I neared the door that a long length of chain with a great shackle at its end lay bent and distorted, broken and cast aside, on the ground near the entrance to the cabin.  I remembered with a chill the fierce creature that had once been chained there, and wondered if I might find that horror, now freed from its bindings, hidden within the broken house I approached.

That thought made me hesitate, though I found that I couldn't stop moving entirely.  My legs carried me forward of their own accord, propelling me towards the dark interior of the broken cabin.  As I drew near the door, about to take a footstep within, my legs stopped.  I felt a mixed sense of relief and distress; relief that I had stopped, and distress that I was not turning to leave as I so desperately wanted to do.  I felt at the very core of my being that I wanted no part of what lay within that damned building.

“Who is the monster now, boy?”  A voice said from inside, and my eyes scanned the darkness, searching for some source of the ill-boding words.  My eyes, normally so adept at picking out shapes within the dark, seemed only the eyes of a normal man, struggling against the deep black of the night.  Finally, though, I saw the silhouette of a man sitting in a chair, highlighted against the faint light entering through a window.  I recognized the voice.  It was the voice of the man with the legs of a bear who had spoken to me in my last dream concerning the cabin in the woods.  My legs took another step forward.

“Who are you, and what is this place?”  I asked the man, my heart racing in my chest.

“You know me.”  He answered quietly, and after a moment's pause, he spoke again.  “You know me.”

I realized then that I did know him.  His voice, though I was certain it was the same voice I'd heard in my dream before, I knew from somewhere else.  My legs began to move me forward again, stepping further into the darkness.

“I don't want to be here.”  I said aloud, as if my words might stop my legs from doing what they intended.  They did not.  I knew the voice that spoke to me from the darkness, and I did not wish to see its owner.

“They're coming for us, boy.”  That voice said once more, and then it was silent, as my feet carried me one step at a time, excruciatingly slowly towards the speaker.

A candle atop a small table flickered to life next to the sitting figure, and I attempted to jump back in horror.  I could do no such thing however, as my legs refused to let me.  Sitting upon the chair was Brutal, the Broken Sword commander from Lucidil's army, whose life I had ended in order to save Malice.  He had the upper body of a man, unmarred by the limbs of the Fell Beast that he'd carried when last I'd seen him, but below his waist he had the body of a great brown bear.  I couldn't remember if the man in my dream had been Brutal last time, or whether this was some new and terrible perversion of that first dream, but it seemed to me now that the man had always been Brutal.  Most terrible of all, half of Brutal's head was missing, great wounds marring the once familiar face, and leaving gray ichor to flow freely from the obviously fatal wound.

“Who is the monster now, boy?”  A growling voice asked from the darkness beside me, throaty and terrible.  I turned to face this new voice, knowing what I would see before my legs cooperated enough for me to do so.  A beast with the upper half of a bear, and the lower half of a human man sat crouched upon the floor, its maw caked red with blood, the remnants of Brutal's face clasped in its massive paws.  “You know me.”  It said, the words distorted by its toothy mouth.

I turned to flee, and my legs responded.  I ran until I was free from the door, and off of the porch, but I skidded to a stop just seconds later as I came upon Wisp standing in the middle of the path.  She was naked and badly beaten, bleeding from the stumps that ended at the points where her wrists should have joined her hands.  I ran to her, and grabbed her to me, pulling her close.

“What has happened?”  I asked her, feeling the tears flowing from my eyes.

“It's all burning, Noble.  It's all going away.”  She pointed over my shoulder with one of her bleeding stubs, her eyes wide in terror, and I turned to look.  As I turned, the small cabin burst into flames.  The bear-headed man stepped out onto the porch, his fur burning, and his skin crackling and splitting.

“They're coming for us!”  The dying creature screamed into the night.

I came violently awake, starting so hard that I even woke Malice who was sleeping some few feet away from me.  She was immediately alert, rising to her feet even as I did.  I saw her reach for the sword that no longer hung at her side, and only then noticed that my own hand was at my hip, grasping at empty air.  I had worn a weapon for far too long.

“What's the matter, Lowin?”  She asked into the night, as her eyes scanned her surroundings and found nothing out of place.

I grabbed my pack from the ground and tossed it over my shoulder.  A sense of terrible urgency was burning in my stomach, coupled with an unshakable feeling of dread.  “We have to get home.  Now.”

“What, why?”  Malice asked, obviously concerned by the note of panic in my voice.  She was grabbing her own pack as well, obviously deciding it was better to follow my lead, than to wait for an answer before acting.

“I had a dream. . . A vision that. . .”  I began, unsure how to explain what had happened in such a way that I might still sound sane.

Malice seemed to relax slightly.  “We all have nightmares.  We've seen, and done, some terrible things.  You have to learn to live with. . .”

“No, Malice.  I swear to you this was more than a mere dream.  We need to get home as fast as we can.”  I told her, beginning to run through the woods in the direction that lead home.  I was tempted to push myself as fast as I could go, but I knew that I could never maintain those speeds over the length of time that would be needed to reach the cabin.  Malice dashed after me.

“Lowin, calm down.”  She reached out an arm to stop me as she spoke, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me to a halt.  “It was just a dream.”

I turned to face her.  The expression on her face had softened until I could barely see the remnants of anger and sadness I'd become so accustomed to in recent months.  It was obvious by the glint in her eyes, and her relaxed posture, that she was concerned for me, but did not feel the sense of urgency I was trying to convey.

“Please, if ever we have been friends, do not stop me now.  Let us go, as fast as we can, and if we should reach home and find that all is well I will be the fool of us, and you can laugh and tell the others how brave Noble was terrified by a nightmare.  If I am right, though. . .”  I pleaded with her, knowing that I would go on whether she chose to accompany me or not, but desperately wanting her to believe in me.

Malice looked a little hurt by my words, though I wasn't sure why.  “Of course we are friends.  I will always be here when you need me, Lowin.  If this is that important to you, then we shall run until we can do so no longer.”

“Thank you.”  I said to her, confused by the depth of feeling behind her words, but in too great a hurry to think more upon it.  I turned back to the path and began to run as fast as I dared.  The road was dark, lit only poorly by the sliver of blue moon that hung in the sky, but my eyes were good in the dark, better than they had been in my dream, and I could easily make out any obstacle in my path.  I wondered, only briefly, what would happen if I returned home to find that my dream had been nothing more than a nightmare.  I dismissed that notion in an instant.  I'd had many nightmares over the years, but the two dreams involving that cabin, and the half-men who resided there, were not of the fabric of normal nightly visions.

“Would you tell me of your nightmare?”  Malice asked, as we ran.  I was hesitant, but I did so, not eager to remember the details of that vision any longer.  However, I knew I owed Malice what explanation I could offer.  We'd slept maybe an hour in the last five days, and while our bodies were powerful and needed little rest, we were exceeding even our extraordinary endurance, and we still had far to go.

I watched the green-eyed warrior's facial expressions from the corner of my eye, unable to take my attention entirely from the road.  I noted that her face went through several different emotions during the retelling of my dream, and ended in a state of semi-shock.  She seemed to pick up her speed then, and I had to push myself harder to keep up with her pace.

“What's wrong?”  I asked her, sure that something in my story had profoundly worried her.

“I dreamed I was walking through a forest, and I thought it was fall, because there were so many bright reds and yellows all around me, but I realized as I was walking that the trees were actually on fire.  Just before you woke me up, I heard a voice yell, 'They're coming for us!'  It didn't worry me in the dream, or even startle me for I have had many dreams of fire before, but you woke me up just after that.”  I couldn't tell in the dim light of the moon, but I thought the color may have drained from Malice's features.  “I thought it was a peculiar dream and nothing more, but your dream. . .”  Her words trailed off.

My heart was hammering in my chest; each beat a drum pounding on the inside of my ribs, brought on by a combination of fear and exertion.  There were two good days of travel still ahead of us, but I had every intention of reaching the cabin before sun-fall of the next the day.  We churned the earth beneath our feet as we pressed on.

It was an hour before night of the following day when we saw a trail of black smoke rising from the valley in which we'd built our cabin.  We knew immediately that something was wrong, as a wood fire should never have burned so dark.  The black smoke that wafted into the air was from a pitch, a type of sealant which goes between the wood logs of a cabin such as ours.  We ran hard then, letting our hearts pump fast and strong with the full range of our inhuman strength.  The world seemed to slow around us, but we were traveling far faster than we had been up to that point, abandoning any thoughts of salvaging our waning energy.  Malice pulled easily ahead, for her stamina far outpaced mine, and I soon lost sight of her.

When next I saw my friend's back, she had come to a stop at the edge of the trail that lead from the woods into the clearing in which our cabin stood.  I let my speed fall off, almost afraid to go any further.  Malice had stopped and was staring at something that I couldn't see, something hidden up behind the tree line.  I made my way towards her, and then passed her and walked into chaos.

Our cabin was a smoldering ruin, reduced to a blackened pile of ash and cinder.  I stepped towards it, my mouth falling open, unable to find any expression that might truly capture the horror I felt, and then stopped, transfixed by a new and even more horrifying sight.  There, lying upon the pathway that lead up to our now-destroyed home, was a corpse. Naked and spread-eagle, her arms and legs were pinned to the ground with stakes, and the signs of vicious violation were all about the body.  Familiar scaled arms terminated at wrists, terribly absent of clawed hands.  The body's head was missing, and one of the breasts had been removed by what looked like vicious, cutting teeth.  There was a short dagger protruding from the tortured bodies stomach, a piece of paper pinned beneath it.

The corpse was bloated, ripe with maggots.  I made my way towards it numbly, knowing already who it belonged to.  I walked past it, stumbling on the path, my feet not wanting to go any further.

“Kay!”  I called out, my voice only a whisper.  “Kaylien!”  I called more loudly, though my voice was horse and crackling with fear.  A shadowy figure emerged from the rubble of the house, drifting amidst the wreckage.  It was Tyvel.

“Noble, they took her!  They came, they killed Wisp, and they took little Kay!”  He called, distress sharp in his voice.  “I couldn't do anything!  I tried to scare them away, but they just ignored me.  I couldn't do anything.”  He said, falling to his insubstantial knees and sobbing.

I walked around the devastation, stunned.  Malice was talking to Tyvel, but I heard nothing of it.  I circled the whole house multiple times before coming back to the body of Wisp, lying violated and destroyed upon the ground.  I looked more closely at the paper on her chest.  It was neatly folded, and had my name written across the front in large, bold script.  I bent over, and drew the knife, along with the letter, from the body.  Tears filled my vision, and I had to stop multiple times while trying to read the letter.  It was short, and to the point:

Lowin,

Your daughter is in our care now.  If you wish for her to remain well kept, you will wait two weeks, and then proceed to the capital city with your accomplice, Malice, where you will be expected for an audience with your king.  If you are seen in the lands of men before the two weeks allotted, your daughter will die slowly - and painfully - over the course of many days.  We are watching you, Noble.  Do not cross us again.

Your Majesty, the King

Such a rage welled up within me as I read each additional line of the short letter.  I threw the paper and knife down and charged into the wreckage of my home, smashing and demolishing the fragments of building that still stood, my strength raining havoc down upon those few pieces that dared stand as a testament to my foolish belief that I had found a safe place.  The smoldering ash burned my flesh, but my healing ability, even exhausted as I was, repaired the damage near immediately.

I screamed my fury, letting all of it free on the world around me until everything seemed to fade to a red blur.  I don't remember how long it went on, but when next I was aware of my surroundings I was on my knees at Wisp's side.  I realized that my hands were clenched so tightly closed that blood was running freely from my palms, my claws digging furrows into them.  I opened my fists, and stared at the bloody gashes as they healed closed in a moment.  I looked around.  Anything that had been standing when I entered the clearing, any partial remainder of our life in the quiet valley, was now destroyed.

Malice was kneeling to one side of me, her head down, but her shoulders shaking in such a way that I knew she was crying silently.  She held the note from the king balled up in one fist.  I saw the remains of Wisp's clothes off to one side, torn to pieces, all but her shifting cloak, which lay mostly undamaged, though covered in dirt, and apparently trampled upon.  I picked up the cloak and draped it over what was left of her body.  Wisp had been the sister I'd never had, though only for such a short time.  I ran my hand down my face, tracing the scars I knew were there, remnants of a different time for Wisp and I, a time when she had wanted to kill me.  Now those scars, and the few memories that we had built, were all that remained of a woman who had been too good for the fate that had searched her out.  I wrapped her body, picked it up, and oriented myself on a direction I'd only ever walked once before.

I heard Malice get up, and speak to Tyvel.  “Where is her head?”

“They took it with them.”  He said softly, and I gritted my teeth together and walked away as fast as I could.

“We'll be back.”  I heard Malice say.  If the ghost replied, I didn't hear him.  Malice fell in at my side, obviously aware of where I intended to go.  If she'd ever been there before, she hadn't told me about it.  It wasn't that I cared whether she'd gone to that quite grove where I'd buried Kye, but I had never gone out of my way to let the others know about it.  It had been my intention to never return there.

When we finally reached the grove, I was surprised to find that the grass was sheared short and nothing had grown over.  All was well kept and neat.  The amethyst stone that bore only a single word, a name, “Kyeia,” still stood straight and tall, a proud reminder of the woman whose resting place it marked.  I was as happy as it was possible for me to be at that moment, to see that things had not fallen to disrepair.  I couldn't know whether it was Malice or Wisp who had taken care of things, or maybe both, but I was thankful.  My sword still lay in the grass at the base of the stone, where I'd left it after carving her name into the rock.  I gently lay down Wisp's body and picked up the sword.  The hilt was still familiar to me, despite the fact that the leather was dry and cracking, and the entire weapon was covered in rust.  I placed it back down, and walked a few feet from Kye's grave before I dropped to my knees and began the process of digging.

Malice knelt down beside me, and before long we'd dug a deep hole in which to rest Wisp’s body.  We carried her in together, laying the body down with a care it no longer needed, but that we felt it deserved.  Once we were done, we left her at the bottom of a deep, dark pit.  Looking down into that hole, the body laying so far away, I was struck by the finality of the moment.  Wisp would never laugh or smile again, and she would never stay up late telling Kay stories that were not really appropriate for a little girl.  She would never shoot me one of her angry looks when I was too moody for her liking, and she would never again surprise me with her unusual brand of wisdom.  I picked up a handful of dirt and let if fall into the grave.

“You were a sister to me, and I loved you.”  I told her, speaking those words which I had so feared to say to anyone, and wishing only that I'd had the nerve to say them to Wisp before it was time to bury her.  I wondered if I would ever have the chance to say those words to my daughter.

Malice took a handful of dirt and dropped it into the grave.  “There were twenty of them, and you killed  seven.  You are the bravest person I've ever known, and I too loved you as a sister.”  Malice looked to me as she finished her words to the dead.  “I spoke to Tyvel while you were. . .”  She didn't need to finish her explanation.  I nodded, thinking I should have had the forethought to do that.  We filled in the grave together, and found a great rock of black obsidian.  It took us much of the night to find the stone, but we would not settle for less a marker.  I used my rusted sword, and carved the word “Wisp” into the rock.  We set it in place, and I lay the rusted sword between the two headstones.  Kyeia and Wisp.  They had not known each other, but they were both family to me.

I sat down heavily between the two graves, and Malice came and sat in front of me.  For a time we were silent, the beauty and peace of the grove almost like a spell of calm all around us.  Unfortunately, the spell did not carry its effects beyond my surface.  My mind was a whorl of chaos and confusion, and my emotions felt as though they might break my sanity at any moment.  Those who had so violated my sister, now had my daughter in their grasps, and I was powerless to do anything.  I felt that at any moment I might either burst into an unstoppable bout of tears, or descend into an unending fit of rage.  I was, however, certain on one matter.

“I'm going kill them all.”  I said, that decision being the only one that was easy for me to make.

Malice nodded.  “I know.  Have you asked yourself how they knew where to find us?”

I shook my head.  I hadn't thought of that at all.  I didn't know how they could have found us.  We'd left no tracks, and had moved so far outside of human lands that we should have been impossible to find.  That they knew how to locate us was a frightening realization, and one that I was not equipped to deal with.

“The letter said that they are watching you.  They must have some magic that lets them find us.  Maybe we should ask Tyvel about it?”  Malice asked, though her tone implied there was no question as to what she thought was the best course of action.

“Yes.”  I replied.  My thoughts had gone elsewhere though, to a matter I had not thought about it two years.  “How far would we need to travel to find a Kaziem Wolf?”

Malice visibly started, her eyes going wide.  “Lowin, no.  There is no way we can. . .”

“You can, Malice.  You know how to do what is necessary, and without it I can't hope to survive what lies ahead.”  I interrupted her, my decision firm on the matter.  The Kaziem Wolf was a creature of boundless stamina.  Its heart was a rare and powerful source of energy, and joining it to my body would allow me to reach my full potential of strength and speed.  The process for integrating it however, was a dangerous one that only three Knights of Ethan had survived.  Malice was one of those three survivors.  She was also trained in the medical processes required to perform such an implementation.

Before she had given it up, she'd been studying to become one of the Knights of Ethan responsible for grafting new parts into the Knights' bodies.  It was a difficult process, and Malice had been very adept at it early in her training, but after receiving her eyes, and discovering the horrible cost of the improvements given to the Knights of Ethan, she had given up that line of research, and had instead dedicated her life to becoming a proficient fighter, a task at which she also excelled.  This was an aspect of her life I had not learned until we'd lived together in the cabin for some time, and I hated to use the information told in confidence to force Malice into doing something she didn't want to do.  However, if I was to avenge Wisp, and get my daughter back, I would need to be better than I was.

Malice was shaking her head.  “What if I were to kill you, Noble?  I couldn't stand that. . .”

“If you don't do it, Malice, I will certainly die.  This is what I want, and you need not feel that this burden lies entirely on you.  This is my choice.”  I took her hands in mine as I spoke, and forced her to look into my eyes.  Her green eyes shone with pent emotion.  “Now, where must we go to find these Kaziem Wolves?”

A single tear trickled from her left eye, the first since we'd finished burying Wisp.  “The foothills of Tuv'et.  It is perhaps a five day trip from here if we go directly, but please Lowin, don't make me do this.  I don't know if I could stand to lose you too right now.”

I smiled at her, an expression that was difficult for me with how terrible I felt inside.  “We can do this, Malice.  I know we can.”  I had no intention of dying before I'd made those who'd hurt my family pay.

We slept for a time in the quiet grove, amidst the graves of our loved ones, before rising and returning to the ravaged remains of our home.  I would have liked to have left immediately, but both Malice and I were at the ends of our energy.  We had run so far, and so hard, that our exhaustion was no longer ignorable.  We slept for several hours and rose ready to do what needed to be done.  Malice felt no better about what I expected of her, but I could not let the matter go.  I needed the Kaziem Wolf heart.

If I was to become strong enough to survive the fight that would be necessary to save Kay, and seek revenge for all that had been done to my family, I would have to be able to use my full potential, and my current heart did not have the strength.  I knew that Malice was aware of that truth as well, though she desperately wanted it not to be so.  The kidnapping of my daughter, and the brutal murder of Wisp had changed something in my mossy-eyed companion.  It might have been grief, but some part of her was subtly different.  It was probably the trauma of our situation, I thought.  It was affecting her actions and mood.  Still, uncertainty remained, nagging at my mind.

It took us three hours at a hard pace to reach the cabin again.  I hadn't realized just how far away the grave site was from the place that had once been our home, but my mind was beginning to settle, the shock of the terrible events wearing off.  The clarity was almost worse than the confusing haze in which I'd been enveloped.  I was left with a terrible grief, and a stomach churning fear for the safety of my daughter.  I knew not what those monsters would do to her, but I was only too aware of the bizarre experiments preformed on her mother while she was kept in captivity at one of the king's research centers.  Tyvel had told us of the tortures they'd inflicted as they searched for answers she simply couldn't give them.  Thinking about them doing similar things to my daughter made me want to rush after them immediately.  Resisting that urge was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.  They had several days on me, and would be running fast.  I could catch them, I knew, but what would they have done to poor little Kay in the interim if they knew that I was coming?  A chill ran down my spine.  Be alright, Kaylien.  I willed it with all my heart.

Tyvel was standing just beyond the burnt remains of the house when we came within sight of it.  He was more transparent than usual, which meant that he was at the fullest extent of his range from the box that housed the fragment of his body.  I was surprised that, despite the damage the fire had wrought upon the home, Tyvel's box and bone fragment had not been destroyed.  I wondered passingly if they were enchanted in some way that stopped them from being physically harmed.

“I'm glad you came back.  I worried for a time that you would leave me here.”  The ghost said, his voice holding a wavering edge.  I realized it had been unfair to leave him in the wreckage of the cabin, amidst a scene that must have been filled with such terrible memories for the ghost.

“I'm sorry, Tyvel.  In my grief I didn't think of how hard it must be to remain here.  Of course we would not leave you behind.  You have been a good friend over these years.”  I told the ghost, who smiled in reply.  “Now, where is your box?”

The ghost turned back to the rubble and began to walk through it.  He came to a place where our single table had been and bent over, pointing at a pile of debris.

“It's beneath this mess, here.”  He said.

Malice crossed the threshold of the house, walking through the place where the door had once been, possibly from habit, or possibly from inability accept that it was really all gone.  I felt moisture building in my eyes again and forced myself to take a deep, steadying breath.  The time for tears was past.  I needed to be stronger.  There was much that needed to be done, and I had to ready myself for it.  In a few moments Malice stood up, holding the unharmed black box in one of her hands.  She pulled off her pack and, after disposing of a pouch of meat, slid the box inside.  We would, of course, no longer need all of the food we'd hunted.  Neither of us spoke the sentiment, unwilling to confront the truth of exactly what that meant.

“What are we going to do now?”  Tyvel asked.  Malice looked away, a worried expression playing across her features.

“We're forbidden from traveling into the kingdom of men for two weeks, though I know not why, so we are going to travel north and east of here, to the foothills of Tuv'et.”  I told the shade.

“Tuv'et?  What could you possibly want there?  That entire area is full of unspeakable monsters.  It is as far north as you can go from the king's land without sailing.”  Tyvel's natural scientific curiosity was piqued; however this was one matter I didn't want to go into with my ghostly friend.  It was a private issue meant for those of who were cursed with the stolen eyes of the Uliona.

“I have business I must attend to there before we move on, I'm afraid.  It shall not take long, and we should be back to where we need to be before the two weeks are out.  From there, we will set a hard and fast pace to the capital.  The sooner Kay is safe and sound, the better.”  I turned to face Malice.  “Are we ready to go?”

She nodded her reply, and we began our journey.  Tyvel hovered about us, needing no effort to keep pace with us as we traveled.  He went where his box did.  I knew by the time we'd run the four days out and back, I would be envying his position, but at the moment my freedom seemed a far better deal than his confinement to the box's minuscule range.  While we ran, I knew it was time to talk.  I needed to know things about the attack, things I did not want to know, but had to.  I also needed to see if Tyvel had any idea what methods the king was using to keep track of us.

“Tyvel, the letter from the king said that I was being watched.  Do you have any idea how they could be doing that?  It is far from easy to sneak up on Malice and I, so I do not believe that they've had scouts keeping tabs on us.  We'd have discovered them by now.”  I hoped the ghost could provide answers.

The floating specter seemed lost in thought for a time before he answered.  “If you left something personal behind, some object of importance, they could have obtained that item and may be employing the skills of a very powerful scryer.  A scryer can use a fetish tied to an individual to see things far removed from their physical body.  Once a connection is established, they can watch their target for hours on end with little effort.”

I winced at that prospect.  If it were true, that would mean that it was my fault they'd known how to find us.  It was my fault that Wisp was dead, and that Kaylien was in hands of terrible men.  I had never heard of a scryer before, but Tyvel was far more aware of the magic possessed by the king than I was.  He had served as a researcher for the king longer than I had lived.  His explanation made a lot of sense.  What item, I wondered, had I left behind that was important to me?  I could think of nothing, but certainly I had not taken much with me when I left my old life.  That which I carried on my person was all that I owned as far as possessions were concerned.

“Tell him of the men . . . the creatures, which attacked the cabin.  He needs to know.”  Malice spoke from where she ran, just ahead of me and the floating ghost.

Tyvel looked troubled.  “When they first came, I thought they were Knights of Ethan, only dressed in black capes rather than ones of Lucidil fabric.  They were something else though, something far more terrifying. . .”

“They appeared as the Knights of Ethan upon first inspection, with the familiar arms and legs born of the joining of Fell Beast and man, but there was more to them than that.  They had the eyes of men, though dull and crazed looking, as though some part of their humanity had fled.  The beast parts of their body extended beyond their arms and legs as well.  I could not see much, but I watched as they fought with Wisp, and they seemed to be almost entirely Fell Beast but for their heads.  What magic crafted them, I do not know.”

“They could communicate with one another, but their language was rough, broken, as though their minds were too far changed to form complete thoughts.  They were organized and fierce, but without the finesse of training one would expect from a Knight of Ethan . . . and their brutality was . . .”  The ghost seemed to shimmer as if shivering.  “I tried multiple times to stop them, but they ignored my presence entirely.  Wisp fought bravely, killing six of their number before she was finally overwhelmed, but even as they held her down and began to. . . violate her, she broke free and tore the head from the first of them.  They cut her claws from her then, and the battle was ended.”

“It was the worst thing I've ever witnessed, Noble.  They were feasting on her flesh as they forced themselves upon her, and they removed her head before they finished with their games.  I screamed for them to quit, yelled and did all I could manage to distract them from their horrible undertaking, but it was as though I was not there.  What was worse, they held poor Kay at the sidelines as they. . .”

“No more!”  I yelled, gritting my teeth together.  “I need hear no more.  If you tell me one more thing I might not be able to stop myself from going after them right now, so please. . . no more.”  Indeed, I was at my wits end holding back the terrible rage that burned inside me.  They had violated a friend I considered my sister, and forced my child to witness the foul acts they committed against the woman that was as close to a mother as Kay had ever known.  I could not abide the thought.

“What do you think the monsters are?”  I asked, once I'd managed to calm myself enough to speak again.  It was no easy task.  Fire burned just beneath the surface of the calm I was feigning.

Tyvel merely shrugged, but Malice spoke.  “I believe they are what the king is using to replace the dwindling Knights of Ethan.  They seem less capable than the Knights, but more powerful than any mere foot soldiers.  They are some hybrid of man and monster, but without the restraints of our kind.  That is my guess.”

“So, the king has decided that one set of monsters is not enough to feed his desire for power.”  I nearly spat the words.  The Knights of Ethan were a terrible creation, born of an unjust sacrifice of innocents, but the king had found some new way to create monsters.  I wondered what, besides the humanity of those turned into these hybrids, was lost in the process.  There was always a cost to magic.

As if in response to that thought, the inside of my Lucidil cloak seemed to grow cold for a second, almost icy against my skin.  The mysterious fabric had never done anything like that before, and I wondered if it had actually been my cloak, or simply a chill I'd felt as a result of my dark line of thought.  I put it from my mind for the moment.

“These kings go too far in the quest for a better world.  He's crafting a land of nightmares and torment.”  I heard Malice say.  It was the first time I'd heard her directly speak out against the king in the nearly three years that I'd known her.  She had served as a Knight of Ethan for a long time, working for a cause that she had desperately wanted to believe in.  It had been a cause we'd all wanted to believe in.

“All men who would change the world, must first be willing to destroy it.”  Tyvel said, hovering at my side, his substance almost completely impossible to see.  I turned to look at the ghost, not sure what he implied with that statement.

“Perhaps the world doesn't need to change.”  I offered.

“Oh?”  He replied, his form solidifying and becoming more consistent.  He smiled, an inhuman expression on his ghostly features, but one tinged with some difficult to decipher emotion.  “Perhaps it doesn't.”

All men who would change the world, must first be willing to destroy it.  Those words settled heavily upon me, and I thought of Lucidil for the first time in a great many years.  He had opposed the king, and stood against the power that the human leader wielded over the land.  He had done terrible thing in the name of his cause, but had he done anything worse than the king I'd served?  Should I have worked harder to support his ideal?  Silent, my dear lost friend, fallen to the icy seas years before, had believed in Lucidil's cause, and the eventual peace that it promised to bring.  Had I been wrong to frown upon Lucidil for his methods, especially in light of the atrocities committed by the king against my family?

Any time I thought of Lucidil, and any time I questioned the legitimacy of his cause, I was always reminded of the screams that had issued from a crumbled storefront as the mighty Broken Sword, his wings spread wide casting a shadow of death below him, had entered that building.  Those terrible screams, which had stopped so abruptly, leaving behind an even more terrible silence, still haunted my memories.  Lucidil had a cause, but it was one he followed to the exception of all else.  He held no compassion for those who stood in his way, and saw no obstacle he couldn't crush beneath him if it would help him reach his ends.

I thought of Lace, the slave I'd begged free of her servitude, and wondered what had become of her.  Lucidil had used her life to bend me to his will, and I had, in the end, left the lands of men, and forsaken my quest for the lord of the Broken Swords.  Did Lucidil, the man I'd first known as Weaver, simply let her go?  I wanted to believe that he wouldn't have bothered tracking her down just to punish me, but at the same time, I feared to discover the truth.  Had I given Lace her freedom, only to curse her to death by my inability to hold to my word?  If I was to travel to the lands of the king once more, Weaver and I would have a reckoning.  I did not doubt that.  He would find me, and I wasn't sure what I would do when that time came.

“This world is a terrible place.”  I said beneath my breath, and I wondered for the first time, if perhaps it didn't need some change after all.

The woodlands broke and we found ourselves running across rocky plains until eventually the ground began to weave and bow, and we knew we had finally arrived at the foothills of Tuv'et.  Beyond those hills lay the Tuv'et Mountains, and beyond them the Great Salt Seep, a stretch of cold salty water that some said reached into forever.  Ships that sailed too far from land were rarely seen again.  Some believed they sailed endlessly, looking for land across the Seep, yet never finding it.  Others thought that massive monsters lived in the depths of the salty waters, swallowing up ships foolish enough to sail into their reaches.  I had been out to sea, and though I had seen no monsters large enough to swallow a ship, I had encountered a beast of a different kind.  Those creatures that sailed aboard the dragon-ship still haunted my dreams at times.  The sea was no friendly place.

It had taken us more than four days to make the run to the foothills, nearly five, and Malice and I were both tired from the journey.  Deciding to rest, we took up shelter beneath a behemoth of a tree that stood alone at the bottom of a deep valley.  A steady rain had settled in, cold and with the barest taste of winter on its chilly breath.  Malice had spoken little on our trip, seeming to grow more and more uncomfortable the nearer our goal we came.  I knew why, and I didn't need to ask her how much further we had to travel because I could tell by how pensive she became with each passing hour.  We were close.

I built a small fire, and we used it to cook a stew from some of the meat we carried and a small amount of nearby vegetation we were able to scavenge.  Neither of us had eaten much recently, so the food had a far greater restorative effect than it would have otherwise possessed.  By the time we'd both finished our food, even Malice was looking somewhat less nervous, though the clouds of worry and doubt still cast their shadows on her features.  Tyvel was quiet as well, seemingly lost in his own thoughts and worries.  I wondered what so troubled a dead man, but did not feel it was my place to pry.  I also wondered if my own face looked so haggard, and guessed that it did, for my own worries were as terrible and twisted as those of the others.

I held no fear at facing the Kaziem Wolves, or at the prospect of undergoing the changes that my meeting with the Kaziem Wolves would entail, but that did not mean I was untroubled.  A minute did not pass when thoughts of Kay were not heavily upon me.  I had failed the girl in many ways.  I had been an authority figure without ever being a father to her.  I had never once told my own daughter that I loved her, though I always had.  In my grief at losing her mother, I had abandoned my daughter.  Now that she was gone, I was forced to accept the fact that if I couldn't find a way to get her back safely, I would have failed her in every way possible.  I was no father to her, and I had enabled the events that lead to whatever fate awaited her.  If I could not save her, what right did I have to live?  I was the greatest fool the world had ever chanced to know.

I lay back on the ground and looked up into the leaves of the tree above me.  I couldn't let my daughter slip away from me.  I would recover her at any cost, and make those who'd taken her, and killed Wisp, pay for what they'd done.  I closed my eyes and willed myself to sleep, knowing that I would need my rest for the days ahead.  I had to take care of the troubles before me one at a time.

It seemed my eyes had only just closed, when I was opening them again.  The first light of dawn was coming through the tree above, though it was dim and grayed out by the heavy hanging clouds above.  It had, I judged by the suns position, been four hours or more since I'd fallen asleep, and my body felt rested.  Thankfully, I had not dreamed.  I sat up and looked to my right, where Malice was laying.  Her eyes were open, and staring up into the tangle of branches overhead.

“It'll be today.”  She said.  “They already know we're here.  They came and watched us while we slept.”

I frowned and stood up, walking about the fringes of our camp.  Sure enough, there were wolf prints all about us, large and deeper than I had expected.  Kaziem Wolves must weigh as much as a large man, I realized as I saw them.  I had not heard the creatures at all during the night, even with my sensitive hearing.  Nor had I sensed their approach.  It was unsettling to think that they had come and walked amongst us so quietly that it had not woken me from my sleep.  I noted that their paw prints had an extra pad at the back, a significant difference from any wolf print I'd seen before.  I wondered why a pack of creatures, and indeed there had been many of them, at least six or possibly more, that had come so quietly to watch us, would be so careless as to leave sign of their passing.

“They wanted us to know they'd been here.”  Malice said, as she saw me studying the tracks.

“Why didn't they attack us in the night while they had the advantage?”  I asked, and indeed I was curious to know why a wild animal, or a pack of wild animals, would pass up a chance at what they would surely perceive as easy prey.

“Because they know of our kind, and are willing to speak with us as equals.”  Malice said quietly, looking uneasy.

“Speak with us?”  I was confused.  I knew nothing of Kaziem wolves, but I had never heard of a wolf who spoke before.

“The Kaziem are intelligent, Lowin.  They're crafty hunters that long ago learned the language of man, and have not forgotten its twists and turns.  Most of mankind is no more than food to them, but they see the Knights of Ethan, those of us joined with Fell Beasts, as something like mortal-gods.  They do not worship us, but they also do not attack us outright.  It is difficult to explain.  You will have to speak with them to fully understand.”  Malice attempted to clarify, but I was still at a loss.  I had never anticipated that the Kaziem would be a creature I could speak with.  I had pictured them like the Fell Beast, a monster I would have to face in combat, and defeat in order to form a bond with, so that I might take a piece of them into myself.

It was at that point that Tyvel coalesced a few feet away from Malice.  He didn't sleep that I was aware of, but sometimes he disappeared into his box for a while before reemerging.  I had asked him about it once, and he described it as a place of quiet rest that he could go when there was nothing else for him to be doing.  I wondered why he had not thought to keep watch the night before, but I let it pass.  We had not asked him, indeed, had not thought it was necessary at the time.  With my acute hearing, I'd never had to worry about someone sneaking up on me in the past.  Obviously, at least in the case of the Kaziem Wolves, I would need to be a little more cautious.

“Tyvel, you'll need to stay here.  The business ahead is for only Malice and myself.”  I told the ghost, certain that what was to happen should be a private event between my green-eyed companion and myself.  I wasn't sure why I felt that way, but it just didn't seem right for the ghost to be there.

Tyvel looked confused, and then angry.  “I don't see why I must be left behind.  I have traveled with you so far, what is it that you must do that I cannot have some part in?  Has my knowledge not been of value to you over the years, and would I not continue to be asset in whatever business awaits?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but to my surprise, Malice spoke first.  “You're right, Tyvel.  Your knowledge is important, and you should come with us.”  She was standing up from where she'd been laying on ground.  She slung her pack onto her back.

I shot a betrayed look at Malice, who looked back at me and shrugged.  “He is a specialist in the magic involved in what we're about to attempt.  While I would normally agree that this is a matter between us, in this case, Tyvel's help could be necessary.  I have never done what we're about to try, I may need his insight.”

“Insight into what?”  Tyvel asked, obviously flustered that he was not privy to what we were discussing, and that we both seemed to have vastly differing opinions on how to proceed.  I looked at the ghost and sighed, not wanting to give in to Malice, but understanding that she knew best what was needed to achieve our ends.  It was an argument I didn't want to have, and didn't think I could win.  On some level I knew that she was probably right.  Tyvel could prove helpful.  Though I meant no ill-will against our spirit friend, I still felt that he did not have a place in what was to transpire.  He wasn't a Knight of Ethan, and even if he'd helped create the process through which the Knights were bonded, he didn't have a part to play in what I needed to do.

“Alright, if that is what you believe is best.”  I told Malice, unhappy about losing the point.

“'Believe is best,' for what?”  Tyvel asked again, looking even more agitated than he had been a moment before.

Malice turned to face our ghostly travel companion.  “Noble is going to try and take the Kaziem Wolf Heart, and I may need help during the process, even if it's only your voice you can offer.”

If it was possible for the ghost to go paler then he already was, he did.  “Oh no, you mustn't do this!”  He almost yelled, his form blurring as he turned to face me.  “Noble, you'll probably die trying this, and that wouldn't do at all.  Think of Kay, what would. . .”

“I am thinking of Kay.”  I said firmly, and I could feel the scowl on my face.  “I'm thinking of Kay, and Wisp, and of Kyeia, and of the disregard the king has shown for those he's sworn to protect.  There is nothing more to argue on this point, Tyvel.  This decision has been made.”

A look of pure rage passed over the ghosts face, and for a moment his image seemed to ripple from white to red.  “You are an ignorant fool!”  He yelled.  His form broke apart and he vanished.

“Tyvel?”  Malice called, but the ghost did not answer.  I guessed that he had returned to his box, unwilling to take part in what he felt was a great mistake.  I was just as happy to have him gone for the time being.  I told myself that I would apologize later, if a good situation arose for me to do so.

“That was foolish of you, Lowin.  He would have been a great deal of help to us. . . to me.”  Her voice wavered at the end, and I turned to face her only to see that her eyes were clouded with tears.  She looked away and drew her hood low.

“We will be fine.”  I told her, and reached a hand out to clasp her shoulder.  She dodged away from my outstretched palm, and walked out from under the tree that was our camp site.

“I'll carry Tyvel along with us, in case he decides to be of some help to us later.  Let us go.”  The green-eyed warrior's voice was quiet, weary, and burdened, but she would have no part of any comfort I might offer.  I supposed I understood why.  I was not making life easy on her.

I grabbed my own pack from the ground and ran to catch up with her.  She was moving at a slow pace, so it didn't take long.

“Shouldn't we be going faster?”  I asked, after we'd been walking for several minutes.

“It doesn't matter at this point.”  She answered.  “They'll come to us when they want to.  How fast we travel makes no difference.  They're watching us already.”

I scanned the landscape, though it was difficult to see far amidst the hilly turf cluttered by long grass and brush.  That problem was intensified by the light morning fog.  I didn't doubt that Malice was correct, but I saw no sign that anyone was watching us.  What more, I didn't feel as though I was being watched.  We walked on in wary silence.  We didn't have to go far.  We reached the crest of a hill, and suddenly all around us it seemed that the very grass was coming alive.  I soon realized why I had been unable to make out the Kaziem Wolves earlier.

As the first of them drew close enough for me to see clearly, I noted that they were large creatures, the biggest wolves I had ever seen.  Their fur was as green as the grass through which they moved.  It seemed to be intermixed with sprouts of longer fur that resembled the occasional stray strand of long grass common in the foothills.  Their fur even fanned out at its edges in places, appearing like open blossoms of mature hay.  They were very well adapted to their environment.  Other than their strange green fur, they seemed much like other wolves in appearance, with long sleek bodies, powerfully built for speed and stealth.  They filled in around us, seeming to not exist until the moment at which they emerged from their verdant surroundings.

I tried to count them as they came, but they moved in a wide circle around us, and I lost count after eleven.  Finally they stopped circling, and seemingly on cue, they all sat or lay down in their places.  One more figure emerged from the grass, this one larger than the others, its fur streaked with lines of brown amidst the green.  This wolf had large golden eyes, both feral and somehow tranquil.  It walked through the circle created by the other wolves and approached us, stopping a few feet away before sitting down on its powerful haunches to look us over.

I was unsure what should happen next, so I kept my mouth shut, and tried my best to appear calm and relaxed.  I wasn't sure what to expect from the wolves.  It seemed best for me to take my cues from Malice, who was, at least on the exterior, calm.  She had not spoken, so I kept quiet as well.

The golden-eyed wolf spoke in a voice that was rough for the shape of the mouth it had to work with, but still maintained a grace and eloquence of tongue that carried a definitive feminine quality.  “You are pleasantly welcomed, gods of wolf and men. . .especially you, Lady Laouna.  We did not think to see you in the Hunting Lands again.”

I wondered for a moment if the wolf had mistaken Malice for someone else, but my green-eyed companion replied, dispelling any such notion.  I realized that, for the first time, I had heard Malice's true name - the one that she had carried before becoming a Knight of Ethan.

“I did not think I would return, Whisper of the Mist, but I have brought one who wishes to offer the inheritance of blood.”  Malice answered, and at her reply a rumble of growls and yips circled us, as though the Kaziem Wolves were communicating, in their own language, excitedly.  Whisper of the Mist, the large wolf that had spoken to us already, raised her voice once more, and the other wolves went quiet.

“It has been long since the walking gods came to honor us so.”  The green and brown wolf moved closer to us, approaching me until she was within an arms span from where I stood.  She lifted her nose to the air.  “He is strong of body, stout of character, but this mortal god smells of blood and. . .”  Whisper of the Mist broke off and padded towards Malice, her nose raised.  “. . .and vengeance.  You both smell of it.  Despair hangs heavily upon you both, and something else.”  She scented the air again.  “There is a third.  You are not but two, there is a third of you.  Where is this third, and why can't we see him?”

“That is Tyvel.  He is a specter, the remnant of a man who died long ago.  He is our companion, though he does not wish to take part in the inheritance of blood.”  Malice explained.

Whisper of the Mist snorted in what I took to be wolfish laughter.  “He is no specter, no ghost.  I know only too well the smell of things once dead.  It is a scent of the spoiled earth, for they are things of earth that do not rest. This is a different smell.  This third is alive, but far away, like the smell of a pack mate who has spent long in one place, only to leave for many years.  The smell remains, though it is faint.”

I looked to Malice, and saw that she was looking back at me.  If Whisper of the Mist was correct, what did that imply about Tyvel?  Was he not what he'd told us, or was the Kaziem Wolf wrong?  Did Tyvel not understand what he was?  They were important questions, but questions for another time because Malice and I both knew it would not be right to question Whisper of the Mist at that point.

“. . .but this is no matter of mine.  The Kaziem are not interested in things of no substance, but we are interested - very interested - in the inheritance of blood.”  The large green wolf padded back towards me.  She came close enough that her massive head, which was well above my waist, brushed against me, as did the side of her body, and finally her tail as she passed.  I did not move.  She turned to face me.

“What are you called, god who walks upon the land?”  The wolf asked.

I wasn't sure whether to give her my birth name, or that calling which I'd been given by Lucidil.  I thought of how the wolf had used Malice's real name, and made my decision based upon that.  Besides, “Noble” had always felt like a name I didn't deserve to carry, and that hadn't changed.

“I am Lowin, Whisper of the Mist.”  I said, my voice as respectful as I could make it.

“So you are, Lord Lowin, god of men and wolves.”  She said.  “As you spoke, I am Whisper of the Mist, the Alpha female of this pack of nomad hunters, and these are the lands we range to hunt.  Welcome to our home, young god.”

“I am honored to be here, Whisper of the Mist.”  I said, wanting to ask so many questions at that moment, but not wanting to offend the wolf matriarch.

The wolf snorted in laughter again.  “You wear your soul upon your face.  You may ask your questions, Lord Lowin.  We do not horde our secrets like the creatures of brick and steel.  If we do not tell others what we know, how is one to learn?”

I breathed a sigh of relief, for my natural curiosity had been piqued as it had not been in a long time.  “How is it you came to speak the language of men?”  I asked my first question, starting with the one of least importance.

“We learned to speak the language of men from those who birthed the language of men, men themselves.”  Whisper of the Mist replied.  “You see, once we were brothers to the men, hunting at their side, and fighting tooth to sword, tail to hip, to spread and defend our shared lands.  Men, though, were rotten creatures.

“Our pack was led by a male then, a strong wolf named Beneath the Starless Night, and he was brother-close to a man by the name of Turilt Felm.  When Beneath the Starless Night and his mate had their first litter of pups, the brave wolf, in honor of his friendship, gave into Turilt Felm's care his first born son.  He said to Turilt, 'Keep my son safe in your care, and he will grow strong and wise in your ways, and be a nobler companion to you than any.' and Turilt swore that he would do so.  Beneath the Starless Night left to care for his pups as they grew, but promised to return when the pups of the litter were old enough to hunt on their own.

“Months passed, as men reckon them, and Beneath the Starless Night came back to see his first born son, to find out of his progress and to learn of how his friend Turilt was progressing, but when Beneath the Starless Night came to Turilt's home, he could not smell the scent of his offspring.  Worried, he went searching for Turilt, and finally found the man chopping wood in his backyard.

“'Where is my son?' he bade Turilt answer, and the man looked at him and replied, 'That dog bit my daughter, and so I had to put him down, lest he grow a taste for blood and be a danger to us.'  Beneath the Starless Night was furious, not only that the man had killed his pup, but that he had dared refer to the poor child as a 'dog,' as though it were only some pet.  'He was but a pup, and pups often know naught their own strength.'  The broken-hearted wolf said, and to that Turilt turned his back.  Beneath the Starless Night left and returned to his pack.  That night the Kaziem Wolves came together to hunt, and they chased the humans from their homes and out of the lands in which they hunted.  Beneath the Starless Night feasted upon the flesh of Turilt, but spared the man's daughter and wife, sufficing in chasing them away.  Those humans, that race of men, became prey, but we have never forgotten the ways of their words, as we have never forgotten why they are prey to us.  What else would you know?”

I found myself sympathizing more with the wolf than with the humans in Whisper's story.  Turilt's actions were beyond redeeming, and I found it strange that the wolves spared his wife and daughter.  It was, I believed, a far nobler thing to do than would have most men, and that from these creatures that humanity had deemed monsters.  A great respect was beginning to grow in me for the Kaziem.

“Why have your kind not ranged further?  I have read much, and heard many tales, but it was only recently in my life that I learned of your existence.”  I asked my next question.  Before becoming a Knight of Ethan, I had been an apprentice loremaster, working for a library and aiding in the keeping of old stories.  In all the time I had spent working there, I had never once heard of the Kaziem Wolves.  It seemed to me that there would have been some record of these strange, intelligent, green wolves.

“We are few, Lord Lowin, and our numbers do not increase quickly.  You see, only the alphas of our kind, one male and one female, and their single mates, are capable of having offspring, and they may only do so once, twice on rare occasion.  As such, our numbers do not increase, and we do not need any more space then we already have.  Men have fled this place, so we are uncontested and free to hunt and live as we will.  To men, we are nothing more than monsters, and truly we would keep it so.  Why range further afield and risk losing some of our valuable few?”  Whisper of the Mist's reply was short and to the point, and again I was struck by how much sense it made.

It was time, I knew, to begin asking the two questions I most feared having answered.  “You said the third of us, the one who is here but not, was not a ghost.  Do you have any idea what he might actually be?”

Whisper of the Mist cocked her head to one side, as if studying me intently, and after a moment she laid down in the grass, looking up at me.  “You are afraid of what I will say.  This image, Tyvel you call it, has been a friend to you?”

I nodded for I feared to answer with my voice.  I still wanted to believe that Tyvel didn't know that he was not a ghost, or that Whisper of the Mist was wrong about his nature.  I knew with a certainty, however, that the aged wolf was not wrong.  I needn't have proof of that fact because her words rang with truth, and her manner denied falsity.

“It is a sending, a scryling, the eye of someone far away sent to watch and gather information.  These are the tools of men.  When they are not with you, they are elsewhere.  They are controlled by things called sleepers, men who should have died long ago, but have been sealed inside ancient magic, their lives forfeit to feed the spell, but so long as they sleep, they do not die.  They are bound to as many as three artifacts, and may travel between them at will.”  The wolf paused, and after a moment added.  “It is true, Lord Lowin.  I am not a creature of deception.”

I realized that I was shaking my head in negation and forced myself to stop.  It wasn't that I didn't believe her; it was that I didn't want to believe her.  It made sense in my heart, though.  The truth was far too clear.  How else could the king's men have found me so easily?  No one had followed us.  No one had tracked us down, because we had not left any sign to follow.  They had not needed to do any such thing because Tyvel had known exactly where we were, and had lead them straight to us, even letting them know when it would be easiest to attack us, while Malice and I were out.  I looked to Malice and saw my own anger reflected in her eyes.  She reached beneath her cloak and pulled out the box.

“Tyvel, come out immediately!”  She ordered the box, her voice grating like steel, but nothing happened.

“He cannot hear what is happening when he is not present.”  The alpha wolf said.  “Until he chooses to come back, he is beyond your reach.”

I saw Malice's fist closing on the box, her claws sharpening as her will to destroy it increased.  I reached out to her and put a hand on her shoulder.  This time she allowed me to do so.  I took the box from her.

“I know what you are feeling.  I know what you want to do," I said to her softly.  “But he does not know that we are aware of his nature.  That is our advantage.”  A single tear crept from one of Malice's eyes to trace a line down her cheek, and I wiped it off with as light a touch as I could manage.

“We trusted him, Lowin.  He was a friend and he. . . Kay. . . Wisp. . .”  She began, but I put a finger across her lips.

“I know, and he will pay, but for now we must remember that we are guests of the Kaziem Wolves.  We must remain respectful.”  The words were hard for me.  Remaining calm was difficult, but I knew I needed to keep myself relaxed if I was to win the respect of Whisper of the Mist and her pack, something I increasingly felt was important to my cause.

Malice, or as the wolf had named her, Laouna, took a deep breath, and stood up straight.  She would hold strong, and I would do my best to match her composure.  I put the box away in a pouch at my hip, struggling to resist the urge to rend it to splinters.

“You are strong, proud, both of you.”  Whisper of the Mist said.  “I sense such pain, but you present a noble face, the stolid face of the pack.  Gods of wolf and men, but the blood of wolves flows strong in you, mortal gods.  Do you have another question?”

The wolf matron's words triggered my memory, for I had almost completely forgotten my final question, indeed, the one of most importance.  Despite what we had learned of Tyvel, we still had a task to accomplish.  I was as ready as I was going to be, and I hoped that Malice would be able to do her part.  I believed that she could, because I believed in her strength and resolve.

“Forgive my ignorance, Whisper of the Mist, but I am not aware of the exact ritual of the inheritance of the blood.  Might you tell me of the ceremony?”  I asked, trepidation filling me.

“It is good that you asked, and better still that Lady Laouna did not forewarn you of the trial.  It is not that I believe you would have been scared away, but this is a matter for us to discuss between ourselves, since it is to be our inheritance of the blood.  You are aware of the stakes involved?”  The wise wolf asked.

I nodded, knowing that, by necessity, lives would be on the line.

“Yet you came anyway, and that speaks highly in your favor.  This ceremony is in multiple parts.  The first part is that which we have already done.  We meet you, we speak with you, we judge that you are worthy of mind and spirit to take part in this sacred practice.  In this, I judge you worthy.  The second part of the test is the test of rights.

“In the test of rights, you will fight one of us in a battle that will go on until one combatant can no longer continue.  There are no bounds to his battle, as we fight as one does in defending one's pack, with no rules to bind.  Depending on your skills as a fighter compared to your opponent, this fight can go on for a long while, or be over in seconds.

“When a winner is finally chosen, the third part of the ceremony begins.  The victor chooses the price of flesh to be awarded.  This is generally the heart, as the heart is the center of a mortal creature's power and strength.  We wolves consume the heart to gain our enemies potency, but the ways of the gods are far stranger, as I'm sure you're aware.”  Whisper of the Mist finished.

I was surprised to learn that I'd already been through a phase of judgment.  I found myself suddenly ill at ease with the notion of killing one of the Kaziem Wolves.  They were not monsters, unlike the Fell Beast I had killed to get my arms and legs.  They were intelligent, almost magical creatures, which I felt had every bit as much a right to the world as I.  Indeed, with their limited numbers, the world would whither with each passing of their kind.

“It is a fair contest, and one of our groups will be much stronger for it, and the other of our groups will have learned much.  The inheritance of the blood, while a brutal custom, only helps strengthen those creatures who take part.  Those who die are remembered always.”  Whisper of the Mist said, as though she read my worries and doubt.  “We are honored to test our tooth against the claw of the gods.  If there are not more questions, we will choose a combatant?”

“I am ready when your representative is.”  I told the brown and green wolf, not hesitating any longer.  My time was not unlimited, and I was as able bodied as I was going to be for the challenge I faced.

“Then we will confer.”  The wolves dissolved their circle and gathered into a group, speaking silently in their own tongue, a language of growls, yips, and gestures far beyond my comprehension.  Malice placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Fight hard, Lowin.  The Kaziem wolves are faster than they look, and they do not tire no matter how long they fight.  They are cunning and brutal warriors.  Do not think this will be an easy battle.”  The look in her eyes as she spoke to me was intense, and I believed every word of what she said.  There was a war of emotions playing across her features.  I found myself moving without thinking of what I meant to do.  I placed my arms around my green-eyed companion and pulled her close to me.

“I'll be fine.  We can do this.”  I told her, as much confidence as I could muster in my words.  At first she was as stiff as a plank of wood against me, but she softened in a moment and placed her arms around me as well, her head on my shoulder.  She was warm and soft, simply a woman and not the frightening trainer from my time with the Knights of Ethan.  I wasn't sure how I forgot that sometimes.  We parted, and I turned back to face the wolves.  They had obviously come to some type of decision.  They were all sitting, huddled together, facing Malice and me.  Whisper of the Mist stepped forward.

“I will be your challenger, Lord Lowin, of the gods of wolves and men.”  She said, bowing her head as she spoke.

My heart skipped a beat in my chest, and I was barely able to find my words.  “You honor me, Whisper of the Mist.”  I bowed as I answered her.  I had never anticipated that it would be the alpha female that I faced.  The other wolves backed off, disappearing into the long grass.  I turned and saw Malice vanishing back into the grass as well, her hood pulled low over her face to hide any emotion that might have broken her normal stoicism.  In a moment they were all gone, and it was only Whisper of the Mist and I who stood atop the quiet hill in the misty light of early morning.

“It begins now.”  The brown and green wolf said, and her lips came back from her fangs in a snarl, her serene wolfish features becoming fierce and terrifying.  I took a ready stance, and she came at me, a blur of motion so fast I entirely lost sight of her.  By the time I had quickened my heart, and shifted my body to full speed, a long and jagged tear had opened up across the outside of my right arm, and the green alpha wolf was standing behind me, preparing to strike again.  She was death, swiftly on four paws.

I dove to the ground and backwards, towards the wolf, hoping that my move would come as a surprise, but the agile matriarch of the wolves was not fooled for a moment.  Her deadly charge halted mid-step, and she swung her powerful jaws towards my suddenly exposed neck.  Instead of knocking the wolf off balance, I was barely able to move my arm up in time to intercept the blow.  The block cost me a large chunk of flesh on my left arm.  I rolled to my feet, facing the golden-eyed wolf who watched me intently, her every move a feral threat.  Malice had said the Kaziem Wolves were fast, but even having been so warned I had not been ready for just how quick they were.

I took the initiative, charging ahead with all the speed I could muster without over stretching my limits.  I lashed out with first one claw, and when she dove under that one, I struck out with the other, directly in her path of travel, but Whisper of the Mist was too agile.  She spun backwards, her clawed feet ripping tufts of dirt from the ground in the effort.  I tried to pursue her, but in an instant her jaws came around and snapped viciously at my face.  I backed up, but not fast enough to escape being grazed by the side of her mouth.  A line of blood trickled down my face.  The first wound I'd received was healed; the second larger bite on my left arm was still stitching itself together.  I had yet to lay a single wound on my opponent, and she'd already made three successful strikes.

We parted again, facing off across the top of the hill.  Despite my training, I was outclassed and I knew it.  She was faster than I, and seemed to be unnaturally aware of where the greatest danger to her was at all times.  My heart beat unsteadily in my chest, a wavering reminder that I had been pushing my full speed for too long.  The green wolf's eyes sparkled in the morning light.  I sensed that she knew I was already at my limits.

I took a deep breath, and forced back my body's safeties, knowing that I couldn't let go of the speed if I was to win the fight.  I had to survive this battle.  Kay was depending on me.  My daughter needed me, and I couldn't fail her again.

I will not lose this fight.  I repeated that thought in my mind.  I pushed my heart harder.  I will not lose this fight.  The abused knot of muscle began to beat faster, and the world around me slowed down even further.  I will not lose this fight.  I charged, lashing out with my right claw as hard and fast as I could.  My opponent seemed startled by my sudden burst of speed.  She broke away backwards, throwing herself into a roll across the grass with such force that I knew she had probably given herself several bruises in the process, but her effort was enough.  My claws only lightly grazed her side, drawing slight lines of red against her green fur.  She was away and safe.  She didn't take time to recover from her near miss.

As soon as Whisper of the Mist's feet hit the ground she was changing her momentum and diving towards me like an arrow for the heart of its target.  I was faster now, though, and I brought my still damaged left arm to bear.  I cannot lose this fight.  Her teeth bit into the flesh of my arm hard, her powerful jaw closing and breaking the bone with a resounding crack, but I ignored the pain and lashed out with my right claw.  It struck firmly on her side, ripping a vicious gash in the wolf's flank.  Blood spattered into the air, cascading in seeming slow motion through the sky.  Whisper of the Mist yelped and fell back, and I pressed forward.  I cannot lose this fight.  Only too late did I realize that her fall back was a feint.

I charged head long into her deception.  In an instant she went from a whiny huddled form to a fully extended mass of muscle and teeth.  She brought her powerful jaws to a vice in a flash, latching on to my shoulder at the base of my neck and there was nothing I could do to turn her away.  She twisted with more power than I would have thought possible, and her weight drove me to the ground.  I tried to bring an arm up to defend, but she was in too close to my body.  Her teeth crunched down, there was a loud crack; my collar bone, my shoulder joint, possibly more shattered, and I felt my arm go numb.  She released her jaws for only a second, before striking down again on the other side of my body, her teeth ripping through my shifting cloak as though it were not there, and sinking into my shoulder and neck with ferocity.  She bit down hard, the sound of bone rending exploded into the air, and my heart faltered.  All the speed I'd put into the battle was gone, and I was gasping for breath, the world blurring before me.

I must not lose this fight.

Pain was all I could see.  Stars of black and red cascaded through my vision, and my body convulsed in agony.  What was worse, my heart was skipping and stuttering, struggling to return to normal pace.  I felt it stop, and looked up into the fearsome face of Whisper of the Mist.  She had slowed as well, her golden eyes staring down at me, her lips drawn back from her teeth in a snarl.  My blood dripped from her mouth to rain down upon my face, and then her face was lost in a blur as the blood stopped pumping through my system and I could no longer maintain consciousness.  “I must not lose this fight.”  Words assailed me from too far way for me to know from whence they came.  There was blackness.

“He. . .lost the. . .the prize is mine. . .claim.”  The words came through a deep chasm of emptiness, floating by me before I could grasp all of them.  My heart jumped in my chest, once, with a painfully slow start, and the two voices became far too distant for me to hear once more.  For a while I was falling through an infinite night sky with no stars to guide.

“But you can't. . . will become of. . .”  Again my heart hammered, weaker than before, and the world blurred and faded. The voices seemed insubstantial, simply things of another place that did not concern me.  An image of Kay, sleeping in Wisp's arms came unbidden to my mind.  I found myself calling out to her through the dream-like haze.

“Kaylien!”  I shouted. Wisp smiled as she looked up and saw me.  The horned set my daughter down so that she could come to me.  Kay ran toward me, her bright purple eyes shining with their own inner light, and I put my arms out to catch her as she arrived.  “I love you, Kaylien.  I'm sorry I never told you.”  I said, but suddenly she was running away from me, still with arms outstretched in my direction.  Every footstep she took seemed to pull us further apart, as though we were both falling, but it in opposite directions.  “Kay!”  I yelled in desperation as a red mist filled the air before me.  My heart hammered in my chest.

“Wake up, Lowin. . .must wake. . .”  A familiar voice called. I attempted to turn towards it and saw only blackness.  I realized my eyes must be closed, and forced them open.  Malice's face was scant inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face. Something green and massive moved beyond her and the world began to fade away again.

“It shall be done.”  A voice said from behind Malice’s shifting figure.  I saw Malice's expression turn to one of pure terror.

“No!”  She cried out, and then there was only darkness.  From the darkness a small light formed.  It seemed to be in front of me, so I began to walk towards it.  As I drew closer toward it, I saw that the light was actually emitting from a person, and not from a fire or a torch as I had first thought might be the case.  It was a pure white light, suffused with a certain calming aura.  Wisp was at its center, sitting atop the darkness as though there were a chair there for her to occupy.  She turned to me as I approached and smiled.

I collapsed to my knees in front of her, everything that had happened over the past few days falling down upon my shoulders with more weight than I could bear.  “I'm sorry, Wisp.”

She laughed easily.  “You don't have to be sorry, Lowin.  My time spent with you, Malice and Kay was truly among the happiest in my life.  What came after was terrible, but there were many good times.”

“I should have been there to protect you.  I should have been a better friend, a better father.”  I said, reaching out to her.  She reached back, grabbing my hand, and pulling me towards her.  We embraced, as we never had in life, not as lovers, but as siblings long apart.

“It is alright, my noble friend, my brother.  It will be alright.”  Her voice was soft, reassuring.  She leaned close and whispered into my ear.  “It won't hurt for long, and then. . .”

I took a step back.  “What?”  Another thought occurred to me, distracting me from my momentary confusion.  “Come back with me, Wisp.  Let us return to the world.  Malice would be. . .”

“Lowin, I'm not really here.”  She whispered, a sad expression on her face, and then she was fading away.  I understood the truth of her words, but her fading left a hollow within me.  Wisp was gone, and I could not bring her back to the world of the living.  I wondered if I could even bring myself back.

“Please, wake up!”  Someone yelled into the darkness, and I found my eyes fluttering open.  The light was bright.  The world was a burning, intense haze, and the only sense I could discern was the shape of Malice who leaned over me, blood covering her face.  “You. . . live!  Remember Kay!”

“Kay.”  I said aloud, and I remembered my daughter, and the way she smiled when she was happy, or she felt that she was getting away with something.  I will live.  The world began to sharpen before me, and I could see Malice's face clearly.  She was crying.  An explosion of pain burst into me, my heart stopped dead in its pace, and the world, which had just started to come so clear, faded again.  Sobbing filled my mind as I was overtaken a darkness so complete, and so consuming that I felt I was truly lost for eternity.  Then there was only silence.

There was intense pain in my chest and I struggled to sit up, but a strong force resisted me. I found I had no energy to fight against my pain.  I forced my eyes open, though they protested even such a slight abuse, and saw the spectral form of Tyvel floating before me.  His face brought back memories of what I had learned from Whisper of the Mist, and with that knowledge also came the memory of what had transpired when last I was a part of the waking world.  I found my hand struggling for the place my sword had once been, even as I lay staring up at the phantom figure that had betrayed my family to its doom.

“It's just Tyvel and me.”  A soft voice spoke from above me.  I shifted my gaze, and saw that Malice was the one who had restrained me.  My head was lying on her lap.  Her face was hollow, careworn, and creased with exhaustion.  I didn't know how long I'd been out, or what had happened during the interim, but it had taken a toll on my green-eyed friend.  “It's just Tyvel,” she had said.  I got the impression that she was holding to the illusion that we did not know the true nature of the spirit’s actions.  I would need to do the same.  I forced my hand limp to my side and away from the place that no longer held my sword.

“Where are we?”  I asked, and found my voice raspy and weak.

“We're in the foothills.  It has been a full day since your fight with Whisper of the Mist.”  She touched my face as she spoke, her fingers lightly grazing my skin.

“What happened?”  I asked, not sure I really wanted to know the full details of what had transpired, and even more so unsure when I saw the expression that crossed Malice's face at my question.

“You. . .”  She began, but Tyvel cut in, sounding somewhat smug and self-assured.

“You lost the fight, and nearly lost your life because of it, as I warned you might happen.”  The fake ghost stated with a certain pride, obviously taking joy in having been right about the risk I was facing.  “Luckily for you, when the Kaziem Wolf found out that your heart was weak, she deemed not to take it at all.  Still, it was quite a struggle for poor Malice to get your heart beating again.  You have, by all reason of the sciences of medicine as I know them, been dead multiple times in the past few days.”

I felt my heart beating in my chest, a weak patter that seemed to come only grudgingly in response to my body's need for flowing blood.  A terrible sense of horror and loss came to me me as the realization of what this all meant settled in my mind.  I had lost the fight.  I did not have the Kaziem Wolf heart, and I had nearly been killed in the process of trying to acquire it.  Would I be able to try again?  I opened my mouth to speak that very question, but Malice spoke before I could form the thought into words.

“You've damaged your heart beyond repair, Lowin.”  I turned to face her and saw tears flowing from her green eyes, though her face showed no expression.  She was struggling to keep calm.  “It is beating now, and may eventually heal enough that you can live a fairly normal life, but you will never be able to push yourself again.  You will die if you even try to use the full extent of your strength and speed.”

Her words were far worse than the beating the wolf had given me.  I felt every single syllable as though it were a slash from a rusted sword, and what made those words worse was what they ultimately meant for Kay.  I had not only failed to make myself stronger, I had made myself much weaker by pursing a reckless course of action, and I had only myself to blame.  Time was running short.

I needed to be able to travel in order to reach the king.  I tried to sit up again, and this time Malice did not restrain me.  It was a difficult process, as though all my strength had fled.  I felt weaker than I had since I'd long ago been injured by a Shao Geok before starting my training to become a Knight of Ethan.  I forced my way to my feet, a cold sweat building on my forehead.  Malice stood with me.

“Will you be able to travel?”  She asked.  Tyvel was hovering over her shoulder, and so I nodded, indicating that I would be fine, though it wasn't true.  I did not want him to know just how much of my strength was gone.  Malice looked less than convinced.

“Climb on my back.  I'll carry you.”  She told me, turning so that her back was facing me.  I took a step away from her.

“I can't do that.  Not while my legs still work.”  I said, my voice tight.  It wasn't that I didn't think she could manage my weight, for Malice was strong, but I didn't want to be a burden.  I especially didn't want to show weakness in front of Tyvel.  Malice turned back to face me once more.

“You have no choice.  We have a long journey, and our time is limited, more so for the time it has taken for you to recover to this point.”  Her voice was firm, but underlined by concern for my wellbeing.  I gritted my teeth in agitation at the situation.  I didn't want to admit that she was right.  I also didn't want the cursed ghost to have the satisfaction of hearing me admit my own weakness.

“You're almost as pale as I am, Lowin.  Let her carry you.”  Tyvel said, a smile on his ghostly, betraying face.  That he could smile in the face of all that had happened, all that he had caused, made me hate him with a purity that I had to struggle to encapsulate.

“Alright.”  I said, between clenched teeth.  Malice turned once more, and I climbed reluctantly onto her back, as if I were just a child wanting to be carried by my mother.  It was a humiliating experience, yet one I was forced to accept that I had brought upon myself.

In my chest, my heart was beating irregularly from just my slight exertion, causing the world to sway and blur in front of my eyes.  I knew that I would have been unable to walk for long on my own.  Had I insisted upon doing so, I would not have made it far.  I wondered if I would be so weakened forever, or if I might regain more of my strength over time.  Malice began to move, and my thoughts scattered at the jarring from her steps.

Even with me on her back, Malice moved at a full run, seemingly unburdened by my extra weight.  An uneasy silence hung over us as we traveled.  Tyvel hovered behind us, seemingly as comfortable as ever, but both Malice and I were quiet.  I didn't feel at ease talking with my green-eyed companion in the company of the one who had betrayed us to the king, and I guessed that she felt the same.  I only hoped that Tyvel would not think our silence unusual.  That thought almost made me laugh at the situation, though it would have been a bitter laugh.

Even before learning that Tyvel was a traitor, Malice and I had not been on the best of terms with each other.  There was a gulf between us that had been present ever since I'd recovered Kyeia from the villa two years before.  It had gotten worse while we lived in the cabin, but I had never stopped thinking of her has a dear friend..  She had always been good to Kay and me, especially to Kay.  Likely it was my fault that we had grown distant over the years, as it had been my fault that I had not been as close to Kay and Wisp as I should have been.  I resolved to correct that with Malice.  Laouna, I made myself say her true name in my mind so that I might better remember it.  I would not risk having regrets where she was concerned, not while I still had the chance to make that right.  When an opportunity came, I would apologize for my long line of callousness.  Perhaps being so close to death, I thought, would make of me a better person.

It took us five days to reach the border to the lands of men.  We kept a good pace, but my weight was enough of a detriment to Malice that it did slow us down considerably.  Tyvel was constantly with us as we traveled, ever reminding us that we could not cross into the lands of men until two weeks had passed.  I had grown better at hiding my contempt, but his constant reminders, which I now knew were simply him enforcing the edict of the king, often raised my ire.

I still did not know why I was forbidden from meeting with the king for two weeks.  Every hour of waiting took its toll on Malice and me.  I feared what they were doing to my daughter while I waited for those two weeks to pass.  I desperately wanted to believe that they would have no cause to hurt my daughter, but I knew the king's ways all too well.  Kay, because of her mother and me, was an anomaly that the king's researchers would love to study.  Their experiments, in the name of the progression of the kingdom, and the ways of magic, were cruel and inhumane.  My daughter was a half breed, born of the mixing of Uliona and Human blood in a way that had never been thought possible.  Her potential was impossible to guess, and that made her a target for those who would exploit the unique nature of her parentage.

“We should wait one more day to be certain.  We wouldn't want the king's men thinking we had entered the kingdom too soon, and hurting Kay because of it.”  Tyvel's voice broke into my musings, interrupting my mental torment.

“Perhaps that is best.”  Malice said.  I could tell by the way she spoke, and the timbre of her voice, that she was agreeing because she knew, as I knew, that Tyvel was not making an idle suggestion.  He was passing down orders in his own way.  His words were just the echo of those dictates passed through him.  A slight panic touched my mind as I thought over a prospect that had first occurred to me over a week before.  If Tyvel was spying on us for the king, and delivering orders in the form of suggestions, had his fury at our trip to see the Kaziem Wolves actually been the anger of the king manifesting? If that was so, was it possible that the king would order poor Kay punished for my disobedience?  I hoped that such would not be the case, but in my heart I feared that it would.  The torment of thinking about it made me want to break down and cry until my body could no longer produce tears, but I forced a calm I did not feel.  If I broke down, I would be of no good to anyone.  Though, in my damaged state, I didn't see how I could be of any use either way.

Malice sat me down on the ground, and I stood for a time on my own.  My more serious wounds from the battle with Whisper of the Mist, though their scars were only on my insides, were finally beginning to heal, and I could feel the weakness in my chest fading.  My heart still beat irregularly, as though it were trying to remind me that it was running on stolen time, but at least I was recovering to a point that I might one day be able to fight on my own if need be.  However, the unfamiliar and uncomfortable beating in my chest served as one more reminder among many of my long line of failures that had marked my progress through life so far.  I had made many bad choices, and I was paying for them, I thought.  I just hoped no one else would have to.  I desperately needed for Kay to be alright.  I wasn't sure what I would do if I reached the king and discovered otherwise.

“We can make our camp here for the night.”  I said quietly, distracted, my mind still circling endlessly on problems that held no solutions.  “There is a stream of water running nearby.”  My ears had oriented on the sound of their own volition, those wolfish features stolen from the Fell Beast functioning far more keenly than any human’s ears ever could.  I pointed out the location for the others, and we began walking that way.  To my sincere gratitude, Malice did not offer to carry me again.  We hadn't far to walk, and I was tired of feeling weak and in constant need of support.  For a while at least, I would stand on my own feet.  I looked at the red bands of fur that circled my wrists, another piece of the Fell Beast that had become a part of me.  Such a strong and fearsome beast, I wondered now how I had ever defeated the monster.

I was unique for having those red bands of fur.  Such markings were unheard of on Fell Beasts before the one that had attacked me in the frozen wastes near the homeland of the Shao Geok.  Lucidil had brought me to that confrontation, deceptively luring me into harm's way so that I might become more powerful, and a better weapon for his purpose.  I still remembered the terror of the moment when he had hewn the limbs from my body with his keenly edged weapon, and the feeling of those dead chunks of flesh from the fallen Fell Beast being attached to my bleeding stumps.  Kyeia's eyes had served me well then, their innate magic joining the monster's dead parts to my living torso, and forming me into a creature far more terrible than I had been before.  Such was the nature of the Knights of Ethan.  Such was the nature of the Broken Swords.  Such was the nature of whatever it was that Malice and I were.  What humanity remained to us?

In a few minutes we were near enough the water that the others could hear it as well.  We made our camp along the shore of the small stream that we all knew flowed into the Iol Adjot River, the most powerful run of fresh water in the lands of men.  It was at that river that we would face our first real challenge.  The river was impassable by ferry, and most people did not have the resources to build a structure that would span the entire length of the powerful flow.  This meant that passing across the river had to be done at one of two prominent bridges crafted by the king, and manned by a large number of guards and Knights of Ethan.  At each bank of the two bridges was a fortress with a large gate in the center.  The gates were kept closed, and only traffic permitted by the king was allowed through uncontested.  My last journey through one of the bridge checkpoints, though not the one we were approaching, had been a harrowing experience.  I remembered Brutal's look of betrayal as I had run him through with my sword, an act I'd committed in desperation to save Malice's life.  Brutal had been a companion, if not a friend, and my actions on that day still haunted me.

I looked to Tyvel, who had betrayed us all, and wondered how different I really was from this creature that called itself a ghost.  We were both guilty of betraying those who believed us an ally.  Did I have any right to hate him as completely as I did?  Whether or not I had the right, I couldn't change how I felt.  In the shadow of my stolen daughter and slaughtered sister, I could feel nothing but contempt for the shade that had once been a friend.

I turned back to the bridge crossing.  I only hoped the king would allow us safely through without trouble, since he had been the one to coerce us into a meeting.  I couldn't understand the man's motivations, and only knew that he had sent a brutal band of men to my house to kidnap my daughter, and they had, whether at his order or not, brutally raped and killed my sister.  Would such a man as that allow us to pass unmolested through his borders?  I didn't know.  I was feeling old, worn by my experiences.

By many standards I was still young, only nineteen years of age, but I had lived through much for one of so few years.  Most men my age were fathers, working in the trade passed on to them by their fathers before them.  My life had started out the same, but after being taken by the Knights of Ethan, it had all changed so quickly.  I had already been imprisoned, fought in multiple battles that should have taken my life, killed men and monsters, lost my heart's first love to vicious tragedy, had my daughter stolen away, and had my sister killed.  I had lived too much in my short nineteen years of life, or possibly I had lived too little.  Could years so full of pain and suffering be construed as really living at all?  If I could but save Kay, I might yet recapture some joy, some purpose.

We made our camp near the stream, building a small fire that would not put up a great deal of smoke, so as not to attract the attention of any forest predators, or possibly signal the guards at the Iol Adjot checkpoint.  Sleep was something I needed little of since taking Kyeia's eyes, but when a time arose to actually rest, I tried to make the most of it.  After eating a meal of stewed meat and vegetables, a normal traveler's fare, I laid down upon the ground, using my pack as a place to rest my head.  In a moment Malice joined me, huddling close, but not for warmth since our cloaks kept us comfortable.  I believed she wanted the comfort of physical closeness, and so I did not dissuade her.  I also sensed that there was something she wished to talk about, but she did not speak as we lay.

Tyvel hovered nearby, seemingly keeping watch through the night.  I wondered, though, if he wasn't simply watching to make sure we didn't try and sneak across the bridge before sun up.  I supposed that was more likely than assuming that he was working in our best interest.  It took some time, but eventually I slept.

The first light of dawn woke me from my slumber, and I sat up feeling stiff from the hard ground that had served as my bed.  Having slept in such a fashion many times before, I was familiar with the effect, and knew that it would wear off quickly once I was up and moving.  I noted that Malice was not at my side, and ran my eyes across our campsite.  I found her standing over the fire, her eyes on a small travel pot set above the flames.  Tyvel was with her.

“The king cannot be trusted.  We know naught what lies he might try to weave once we reach him.  It is vitally important that we be ready to take action quickly if things do not go as we anticipate.”  The ghost was saying to Malice.

I stood up and walked over to the pair, my curiosity piqued.  Malice withdrew the pot from the fire and carefully doled out servings to both of us before walking over to the water of the stream we'd camped near to clean the cookware.  I barely noticed her actions, as I was busy wondering what game the ghost was playing at.  He had betrayed us to the king, and yet he seemed to be intentionally antagonizing us.  Surely having us on edge was not in the king's best interest.

“I had already considered that possibility, Tyvel.  Should the king betray us, we will take appropriate measures to ensure that Kay and the rest of us can get free.”  Malice answered with cool indifference as she returned her cookware to her pack and started in on her cooled bowl of food, but I could see that she was troubled by Tyvel's comment as well.  It did not fit in with what we suspected of his motives.  I remembered my own bowl, which I'd been holding dumbly without looking into it.  It was full of a warmed gruel, probably unsweetened.  I took my spoon and began eating, not savoring the taste, but knowing that the energy it provided would be worth the sacrifice my tongue was being forced to make.

“What if we get there and he refuses to give us Kay back, or worse, denies that he even has her?”  Tyvel asked.  I had a sense that the conversation we were having was one that had been rehearsed and fine-tuned.  I felt that we were being goaded, but I knew not to what ends.  “We can't simply abandon the child if he is deceiving us!”  The would-be ghost spoke with a surprising vigor.

“Why would he do such a thing?”  I blurted, confused by Tyvel, and angry at what his line of questioning might imply.  Was it possible the king might try such a ruse when we arrived?  Why would the king deny having Kay when he had clearly left a message saying that he had taken her and asking us to come see him?  What purpose would such actions serve, and what was it that Tyvel was trying to get from us?

Tyvel shrugged his transparent shoulders.  “I'm probably just being paranoid.  I am worried about Kay.  I want her back safely, and I do not trust the king.”

“We will do what is in our power to do.  Kay will be freed, and those responsible. . .”  Malice let her words trail off.  I could tell by her tone that she was as shaken by Tyvel's confusing outburst as I was.  If the ghost was working for the king, why would he be trying to push us into action against the king?  I felt a stabbing pain of worry in my stomach.  I knew already that Malice and I were being lead into some kind of trap, but Tyvel's strange actions were making me feel that knot of confusion in my middle all the more keenly.  I finished the last of my breakfast, letting it settle like a flavorless weight in my stomach.

“Now is not the time for 'what if,'” I told the others, eager to leave such a confusing line of conversation.  “We have a bridge to cross, and I suggest we do so as quickly as we can.  Now that our time of waiting is passed, we need to reach our point of meeting as quickly as possible for Kay, and so that we might end this mess once and for all.”

Malice nodded her head in agreement, and Tyvel nodded as well.  She too had finished her breakfast, eating quickly while we talked.

“Agreed, the time for waiting has passed.”  Tyvel said, and I thought, for a moment, that I noted a hint of excitement from his attitude.  I couldn't be certain.   The phantom creature's moods were ever difficult to read.

Malice and I proceeded to the stream and rinsed our bowls and spoons before returning them to Malice's pack, along with our single pot.  It was time to be on our way.  She turned to offer me her back, but I hesitated.

“No," I said firmly.  My heart still beat irregularly, but I felt that I could run again, and I did not want to approach the king's lands on Malice's back, even if Tyvel had already told them of my weakness.  “I will be alright for now.”  This time, I actually did feel that I could manage on my own.  I still felt weakened by my heart, but my body was strong, and running was not nearly so taxing as fighting.

Malice turned back to me, seeming to consider my assertion.  Her eyes swept over me for a time, lingered on my chest, and finally she nodded.  “Let us run.”

We took off together.  The pace she set was hard, but not as hard as I would have liked.  Malice, who was leading, was holding back for my benefit, I knew.  For the time being I was willing to let her do so, but only until we made it across the bridge.  At that point, I would either have to keep up with our fastest pace, or subject myself to the embarrassment of being carried along again.  I told myself again and again, repeating it in my mind, “You will not give in.  You are stronger than this.”  My heart thudded irregularly in my chest, sometimes beating too fast, sometimes too slowly, but it stuttered along without trying to fail.  I needed my body to believe my mind.

We reached the bridge well before the sun had even climbed to its zenith.  The morning was chill enough that every breath we took created puffs of white mist.  Tyvel drifted amidst us, almost seeming nothing more than an errant exultation of breath that had taken human form.  This second great bridge across the Iol Adjot looked much like the last one I had encountered in my travels.  As we drew nearer, winding down the road that we knew would lead to the gate, it became obvious that the two bridges built by the king had been constructed from a similar set of plans.

Our side of the bridge was surrounded by a massive wall, structured like a keep, with towers and a wide walkway atop it for men to post a patrol.  The wall was tall, and the stonework was well done, leaving gaps that no normal man could hope to use for climbing.  When I had assaulted the other bridge, further east of where we were now, with Brutal, we had simply scaled the wall. It had been necessary to gash our own hand holds into the stone at times.  Even with our exceptional strength the walls of the bridge gatehouses were difficult to climb.  The gate itself was worse yet.  There were actually two sets of wrought-iron gates, and the entry way into the keep that comprised the wall was set in between those two gates.  This meant the only way into the keep was to have someone already inside open the gate.  Of course, with enough time and the proper gear, it would be possible for a skilled and persistent person to work their way inside.  At least, it would have been possible had there not been a constantly rotating, and ever vigilant, guard detail on duty.

However as we drew nearer, I noted that the gates of the bridge were not down, and indeed I could see no movement whatsoever.  Everything seemed eerily quiet and still.  It was Malice whose nose first picked up on the foul smell drifting on the breeze created by the rushing Iol Adjot River.

“Death.”  She said quietly as we drew nearer.  “This place reeks of death.”

I was, not for the first time, fool enough to reach for my sword that was missing from my side.  As we drew nearer the familiar bridge structure, it was almost possible for me convince myself I was once more on my quest to save Kyeia, Kay's mother, from where the king had imprisoned her in his research facility.  A few irregular beats of my heart were all it took to jolt me back to the harsh reality in which I existed.  I was not that man any longer, and that was a time far passed.

“We should be ready to fight.”  Malice's voice was quietly serious, and I could sense the tenseness in her posture, a stance that would not be perceivable to those who did not know my green-eyed friend well.  Beneath her shifting cloak, her body was coiled and ready to launch into action.

I readied myself for a confrontation, willing my magic claws to fine points, and quietly stretching my muscles beneath my own cloak.  The tattered magical fabric had seen better days.  It now had several holes from my fight with Whisper of the Mist, and still had the patched places where I'd been impaled fighting to rescue Kye.  It looked worse than I did, but I guessed it was probably doing its job better than my body was after all the abuse.  My heart skipped a beat, as if to verify that line of thought, and I was forced to consider whether or not I would even be useful if the situation came to blows.  The stench of rotting meat came to me then, taking me full in the face as an errant gust of wind blew across the bridge towards us.

Tyvel remained oddly quiet, which I found to be a surprise, since he was usually quick to weigh in with an opinion in tense situations.  I noted it mentally, but didn't say anything aloud.  Voicing suspicions about the traitor would have to wait until we had better worked him to our advantage.  Besides, we didn't know what the consequences would be for Kay if we were to confront Tyvel about his part in her abduction.

It didn't take long for us to determine the source of the smell of death coming from the massive bridge.  Bodies were strewn all across its surface, most in various states of dismemberment and mauling.  How much damage was from the battle, and how much was from animals preying on the corpses after the attack, I could not be certain, I was not well studied in making such judgments.

“How long have they been here?”  I asked no one in particular.

“A matter of a few days. . .”  Tyvel began, but Malice cut him off.

“Three weeks, maybe a little longer.”  Malice said firmly.  Tyvel lapsed into silence.  “This amount of putrification would take at least that long.

“Yes, that is what I meant, a few weeks.”  Tyvel said, before floating off and seeming to take studious interest in the chaos about us.

I did not believe for a moment that he had simply misspoken.  He had been intentionally trying to mislead us as to how long the men on the bridge had been dead.  I wondered why that was.  What benefit would it be for him to lie about such a thing?  What was he trying to hide?

I looked across the great length of the bridge.  From our side of the structure, it was only just possible to see the far side, but I guessed that we would find it similarly strewn with corpses along its entire length.  If those at the other end of the bridge had been alive, they would surely have been aware of the carnage at this side by now, and would have to come to bury their comrades.

“Come quickly!”  Tyvel called, hovering over the body of one of the fallen several feet away.

Malice and I went briskly to his call, eager to see what it was that had so excited our traitorous companion.  He was standing above a figure wrapped in a deep black cloak.

“These are the things that attacked our home, Lowin.  These monsters. . .”  He pointed to the black cloaked figure, and for the first time I noted that the arms and legs of the cloaked figure were those of a Fell Beast.  Malice stepped in close and nudged the creature onto its back with one of her pawed feet.  It turned over exposing a face too rotted to make out much detail.  The eyes were gone, so it was impossible to tell if it had been a Knight of Ethan, but the face did not look exactly right.  We needed to see more of the monster, but neither of us wanted to do what was necessary.

I took a deep breath and stepped towards the corpse, drawing a short knife from the belt of the dead beast to do the task at hand.  I ran the knife along its torso, attempting to cut away the cloak and clothing, but the cloak resisted my knife.  The fabric was enchanted.  Someone had spent a lot of money in paying for a fabric that could hold such a spell.  There was a huge and grizzly blood stain on the front of the cloak though.  Apparently the spell had its limits, much as the magic on my own cloak did.

“The fabric is enchanted.”  I told Malice and Tyvel, though I was mostly speaking for Malice's benefit.

“He is most likely a king's man, then.  Such fabric does not come cheap.”  She said.

“Of course he is a king's man!”  Tyvel said tersely.  “I told you, he is just like those that attacked Wisp and took Kay.”

I shifted my grip on the knife in my hand, ignoring Tyvel's indignant reply, and thrust with the force I knew would be required to puncture the magical fabric.  My knife broke the threads this time, and I drew clothing and cloak apart with the sharp blade.  Beneath his cloak was a tabard bearing the kings insignia, and that also fell away at the passing of my knife.  In a minute I had reached the corpses torso and discovered the alarming truth.

“He is a Fell Beast all the way through to his neck.”  Malice said, the shock obvious in her voice.  It was true.  Whatever kind of creature the man before us was, his body was that of a fell beast everywhere below his neck line. He was far more monster than man.  What magic was the king playing with that would create such monstrosities?

“When did the king start dabbling with experiments like these?”  I asked, looking directly at Tyvel.  He had been a researcher for the king, and since he was supposed to be our ally, it was only right that I ask him.

“I have never seen, or heard of, anything like this before.  My studies were mostly with the Uliona and human lines.  I know nothing of what this creature is.”  The ghost-like entity attempted to assure me, but his words rang false.  I couldn't be certain that he was lying, though I was disinclined to trust him because he seemed far too eager to bring our attention to the fallen man.  He knew more than he was willing to tell.  I pulled the dead man's cloak closed, and covered his face.  I had no intention of burying the creature, but it was only right that I do something, since I had violated his corpse by cutting the cloak free.  I stood, leaving the knife with the body.

We proceeded cautiously across the bridge.  The scene of battle was obviously stale, but that didn't mean that someone could not have stayed behind.  The massive number of casualties amongst the bridge guards was reason enough to not rush blindly ahead, so we picked our path slowly, ready to fight if need be.  We came across more of the strange Fell Beast and man hybrids as we crossed the swiftly running water.  The roar of the rushing Iol Adjot was almost deafening.  We saw no Knights of Ethan until we reached the far gate, which stood wide open just as the first side had.  It was there, beneath the gate arch, that we found the bodies of two Knights, though they were only identifiable by the remnants of cloak that hung about them and the specially crafted swords that lay uselessly at their sides.

They had both been viciously mauled and torn apart.  What little remained of their bodies had obviously been intentionally desecrated by the attackers.  Of the two Knights, the female had been stripped naked, her head removed, as well as her clawed hands and feet.  The similarity to what had been done to Wisp was not lost on me, and a single look at Malice confirmed that she was thinking along the same lines.

Malice walked over to the corpses, and pulled what remained of their cloaks over the bodies, her face pale.  She took a moment to unfasten their sword belts, and handed one to me before fastening the other on herself.  She retrieved their weapons, which had been lying on the ground, and wiped them off on the fabric of one of the other fallen fighter's tabards before handing one sword in my direction.

“I don't like to rob the dead, but they will not need the steel, and we might.”  Malice said softly.  I nodded my agreement and put on the sword.  The weight was familiar, for the blade was a sister to the one I had carried for some time.  I felt at home with the familiar weight drawing downward on the leather sword belt.

I looked at the now shrouded bodies that lay on the ground, new questions rising to the forefront of my mind.  Why would the king's men, sent to kidnap my daughter, also assault the king's own bridge crew?  That made no sense.  The entire situation was not right, and I suspected that Tyvel knew more than he was telling.

“These had to be the same attackers that struck our home.  They killed in the same manner.  If our attackers were kingsmen, why did they attack their own men at this bridge?”  I asked aloud, for it was a question that needed to be asked, and could safely be asked even without raising Tyvel's suspicion.  It was a question that anyone with half a mind would be considering.

“I can't figure it out.”  Malice said, her face drawn, her eyes forlorn.  To fight and kill in the line of battle was a terrible though sometimes necessary thing, but the monsters that had fought upon the bridge, and then later at our home, had seemed to delight in their acts of brutal murder.  Even if we were not allies to the king or his men, we were not so heartless as to approve of what had occurred upon that ill-fated bridge.

“Perhaps the bridge was not under the king's control.”  Tyvel said, after a period of quiet.

“These men all wear the king's emblem on their tabard, and the Knights of Ethan were carrying regular swords, not the broken swords of Lucidil's men.  No, these men who were defending this bridge were the king's own.  So why did those that were sent to our home kill these on the bridge?”   I pressed the question again.

“I do not know.  The king can be callous at times.  Perhaps that is a question best left unanswered.”  Tyvel said, sounding for all the world as if he were as confused as the rest of us.  I nodded my head.  I intended to ask the king when I finally met him exactly why he had seen fit to kill his own men in such a way.  Tyvel might not think an answer was necessary, but I would not leave such a question unanswered.

“We should get moving.  There is nothing here but death, and we have another week of running before we reach the capital.”  Malice said.  I knew she was right, but I still felt guilty about leaving all of the bodies upon the bridge as we'd found them.  Something terrible had happened on the Iol Adjot River, and the aftermath ate away at me in some intangible way.  None of the details seemed to fit together quite as they should.

We passed cautiously through the final stone archway, alert for any attack that might fall on us, but we encountered nothing.  Whatever had killed the people on the bridge was long gone.  That did not make me feel any better about the situation.  Had the king ordered his own men killed at the bridge?  If he hadn't made the order, then had those monster-men done it of their own volition?  That was not a pleasant thought.  Those men had my daughter.  I found myself breaking into a run.  The more I encountered horrors, the more I feared for Kay.  Even if she was not killed, would her mind ever recover from the horrors she was being forced to live through?  Malice fell in at my side, and Tyvel hovered near.  I couldn't afford to wait any longer.  I would get to the capital as fast as I could make my feet go.  It was time to get Kay back, and finally get some answers.

Kreo was the capital city of the human lands, and truly a marvel of human craftsmanship.  The city was large enough that standing atop one of its highest towers, a person could not see all of it from one edge to the next.  For much of its history, Kreo stood as the only human settlement, a fortification against the world that lay beyond its walls, but the sons of men had spread, their need for more land and more space forcing them beyond the safety of their stone boundaries.  At first Kreo had expanded with them, and that was why there were four levels to the ancient city.  After each major expansion the residences erected a new outer wall, the previous walls becoming physical subdivides that eventually were used as societal districts.

The city's army, once a force only enlisted to guard the walls, had grown huge out of necessity.  They needed enough men available to protect the massive perimeter, and to keep peace among the ever-growing population of citizens.  However, the kings of men grew tired of having but one city to govern, and they began to grow their armies larger, and to send them out to conquer more land.  The beasts of the world were pushed back, and the city of Kreo became the capital city of man, and the permanent home of the king.

I had never seen Kreo before, and I found myself duly impressed by the sight that sprawled before me as we came over a hill crest to find the massive metropolis strewn below us with the chaotic grace of an artist gone mad.  I could see some semblance of order amongst the sections of the city nearest the wall, the newest established area, but as one looked further towards the center, the streets became less organized, a labyrinth-like mash of curving streets and maddening architecture, a testament to a city that did not intend to grow as large as it eventually did.

At the center of it all stood the king's castle, a massive brooding building that reached high into the sky. It was a fortress to rival any ever built, or so I thought then.  There was much in the world I still had not seen.

We approached the castle gates cautiously, unsure as to what we should expect for a greeting when we arrived.  My anticipation caused a mix of dread and hope.   I desperately wanted to find Kay safe and sound, but Tyvel's strange behavior over the past few weeks had not instilled in me a sense of any great confidence.  I had the distinct impression that the situation we were walking into was far more complicated than it seemed.

The line of traffic at the gate was less than I would have suspected.  There were five carts before us in a neat line, and absolutely no people gathered around the entryway, as one would normally expect at the gates of a city of such a magnitude.  Generally people gravitated to city gates, setting up stalls to sell food and souvenirs to people waiting in line to gain entrance.  There was good business in it, but here were only five solitary carts and their one or two man crews.  The man in the rear carriage spotted us, and his face went as white as Tyvel's.

“Knights of Ethan, make way, make way!”  His voice was suffused with a timbre of fear, and he moved his cart aside with more speed than I would have thought possible by looking at the two sickly Reave Haulers he was using to pull his load.  Reave Haulers were a variety of two legged lizard, powerful and intelligent beasts, and preferred creatures of burden for most of the kingdom.  They were generally docile so long as they were fed, but male and female alike had a nasty crown of spines around their skull that could cause trouble for those who mishandled them.  However, the Reave responsible for pulling the man's cart looked as though they had long since lost any will to fight.  They looked old, tired, and as weary as I felt.

I did not try to stop the carts from clearing way, as I might have done under other circumstances.  I was in a rush, and any speed advantage gained was well appreciated.  I turned to see what Tyvel might be thinking of the whole situation, but found, for the first time in weeks, that the ghost was conspicuously missing.  He had hovered about us constantly since I'd been injured by Whisper of the Mist.

“Because we cannot see him, does not mean that he is not here, somewhere.  I'm sure Tyvel would not abandon us in this situation.”  Malice said, obviously having noticed my eyes searching for the ghost.  It was a warning, I knew, not to say anything I might only say in front of my green-eyed friend.

“This is true.  He is never far gone.”  I said, trying to imply that I agreed with the sentiment without saying more than was necessary.  We approached the guards.

I recognized the eight figures at the gate immediately, and I guessed Malice did as well.  They wore black cloaks, designed much as our own were, though without the shifting colors that marked us.  The hands and feet that showed beneath those cloaks were Fell Beast in nature, and the faces that were uncovered in the early daylight were those of human men.  Their eyes were human, not those of the Uliona, like the Knights of Ethan, the Broken Swords, and whatever it was that Malice and I had become since separating from the others of our kind.  Their human eyes, though, shone with feral light, as if something barely controlled rested behind those glassy orbs.  We drew close, and as we did the black cloaked warriors drew their swords, fine forged black-steel blades.  I guessed them to be inferior to the borrowed blades we carried, since black steel was inherently more brittle, but they were still fine weapons.

“Who are you?”  One of the creatures asked, stepping forward, and I noticed as it talked that its mouth was full of vicious cutting teeth, though they looked as if they'd been haphazardly crafted into the monster's maw.  Its voice was a little above a raspy whisper, projecting further, but with the same airy growl.

“I am Lowin Fenly, and I'm here with my companion, Malice.  We've been summoned by the king.”  I told him, standing up straight, and placing my hand on the hilt of my sword, but not yet drawing the blade forth.

“It is the betrayer. . .”  A voice said from the back of the group of black cloaked figures.

“Oath breaker. . .”  Uttered another.

“The fallen-exalted has come.”  Yet another voice whispered.

The man-creature who had first spoken to us growled again, “He waits for you.  He has waited eagerly for your coming, Lowin Fenly and companion Malice.”  He gestured for us to enter, and we did.  All the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up as we passed through the group of black cloaked figures.  I felt their eyes like knife points on my flesh, and knew that only the command of the king restrained their terrible violence.  These were the beasts that had killed Wisp, and taken Kay away.  I wondered if it were any of the very same creatures that surrounded me then.  Again I contemplated what magic had made them, and what such a terrible existence could possibly give to them to make it worth their loss of humanity.

“Go with them, Grotfen-groa.  Go with them to meet His Highness, his High Lord of All.”  The one who had spoken to us first, called out one of their number.  A particularly tall figure broke off from the others, separating from the greater group of dark cloaks like a shard of shadow splitting from the night.  He stood before us.  His name, Grotfen-groa, struck a bell in my mind.  It took me a moment to recall the information, but when I did, I was startled.  Grotfen-groa was from an ancient numbering system.  It meant seventy-two.  I hoped the name was simply an odd choice from the man's parents, but I believed that such was not the case.

More than likely, whoever was creating the Fell Beast-men, was using the ancient number system to name them as well.  I would have asked about it under normal circumstances, but the creatures were obviously hostile, and I was more intent upon finding Kay.  Still, I wondered just how many of the feral monsters the king had made.

I didn't know it then, but I was to have a better understanding of that question before I was to have any answers concerning Kay.  Grotfen-Groa lead us through the city at a quick clip, not traveling as swiftly as I would have liked, but moving fast enough that most people would have been uncomfortable keeping pace over a long period of time.  He didn't speak as we walked, which was fine by me, since it gave me time to take in the sights of the human capital city.  What I witnessed distressed me.  The city was eerily quiet.  Those few people who walked the streets seemed intent upon getting where they were going as quickly as possible.  There was none of the bustle and crowd that I had anticipated upon first viewing the sprawling mass that was Kreo.

Black Cloaks, which is how I had begun to think of the creatures like Grotfen-groa, patrolled the streets in groups of two, and we seemed to see more of them than actual people in the city.  The people cut them a wide path, almost running to clear the way for them.  I saw not a single human guard as we traversed first linear, and then winding, blocks.  Had the king entirely replaced his force with the black cloaked creatures?  I looked about me at the dead city, and realized that what I was seeing was not something that had happened over night.  To so subdue a city would have taken a great deal of time.  I realized then, that what I was witnessing was the demise of Kreo.  A city without a thriving and happy people was doomed to fall apart eventually.  I wasn't sure what the king was thinking.  I intended to find out, however.

The walk through the city took us several hours, even moving at a quick pace.  We passed beneath each of the cities four walls in turn, each becoming slightly less massive then the previous.  However, contrary to the quality of the walls, the buildings became more resplendent as we progressed.  Those who had originally built their homes about the castle had done so in an extravagant fashion.  The same held true of the storefronts, and the quality of the street work.  Some of it was obviously recently refurbished, but it all retained a classic quality that was hard to disapprove of.  Of course, the building quality did nothing to detract from the fact that the organization of the streets was becoming more chaotic the closer to the center we came.  Despite the tightness of the streets, they remained quiet but for patrols and the few scared looking city folk, intently attempting to get out of our way.

Finally, after what had felt like a lifetime to me, we reached the castle proper.  It was a fortress that stretched high into the sky above us, tall and intimidating against the evening light.  It was so tall, that from its base, I could not see the highest spire when looking up.  Any windows that existed on the lower floors were so small as to be almost unnoticeable, and the door we approached was small and narrow as well.  It was a feature that made it difficult for any attacker to assault the inner castle in force, but the design was a double edged sword, for it also made it difficult for anyone within the castle to get out quickly if the need arose.  From my time as a loremaster, I knew that there was generally a second, secret passage that leads in and out of a castle.  The second passage usually ends a long distance from the castle ground, and could be wide enough to lead several men down.  I didn't know for certain, but I believed the Kreo fortress was no different.  Underground tunnels and hidden pathways were a fixture in all old military structures.

Our guide hammered on the door with one of his solid fists, a tightly packed ball of sinew and bone that could rend a man to pieces if so applied.  After a moment, the door swung open and a man in a shifting Lucidil cloak stepped forward.  I recognized him immediately.  It was Tempest, the first Knight of Ethan I had ever encountered, and the one who had brought me to the Knights of Ethan to receive my training.  His cold black eyes passed over all of us, and finally settled on our guide.

“I bring the Lowin, he who breaks oath.”  Said Grotfen-Groa, the first words I'd heard him speak.  There was a certain grim pleasure behind his words, a sound that put me ill at ease.

Tempest stepped entirely out from the door frame.  He was short for a Knight of Ethan, but still had to crouch while in the opening.  His black eyes locked on mine, a look as fierce as I'd ever seen them to have, boring into me.  He was still intimidating, even with all that had gone before us.

“You've changed, Fenly.”  He said, his voice partially laced with a trait the Knights of Ethan called “the voice.”  I had not learned its source yet, but I knew that it was something taken unto our bodies much like the Fell Beast parts, or the horns some of the knights had.  Once a Knight had “the voice,” he could strike fear into the hearts of most men simply be speaking, and his roar was enough to terrify man and beast alike.  With enough training, the Knight could eventually control the talent to the point where it no longer terrified all who heard it, but the effects of the change never quite left their tones.  Tempest had gotten better over the years.

“You've changed, but not for the better.”  Tempest added after a moment of consideration.  In his face I saw a hint of the same betrayal I had once seen in the face of Brutal, the man I had killed in order to protect Malice.  I was again reminded that I had turned my back on many things in the pursuit of my ambitions.  Tempest was one of many who would give me such a look, and likely give me far worse, if offered half the chance.

“Time changes us all.”  I heard Malice say from behind me.  “Sometimes it takes change before we are able to see the truth of things.”

Tempest looked at her, and I noticed him start slightly as his eyes passed over hers.  When last he had known her, she'd had black eyes like his own.  Those few Knights of Ethan, fallen from grace or not, with colored eyes were rare.  Lucidil, with his fiery red eyes, had once told me that it was a sign of strength, a strength born of the depth of our attachment to the one which we were bound.  Because I had loved Kyeia, and she had loved me, my eyes, Kye's mortal gift to me, were purer of color than any Knight before.  My strength, though, had not been enough to save me from tragedy.  Kye died, Kay was lost to me, and Wisp had been murdered and violated.

“I'd heard rumors that your eyes had awakened, but I did not suspect that they were true.  How. . .”  Tempest began, but Malice cut him off.

“We're on business, Tempest.  If you wouldn't mind showing us to the king, we'd like to be done with this.”  Her voice held a sharp edge.  I reminded myself that she was every bit as tense as I was concerning our current situation.  Her patience was just as frayed as my own.  I wondered again where Tyvel had gone to.  It's not that his presence was comforting, but that the lack of his presence was disconcerting.

“One moment, then.”  Tempest said, returning through the narrow entryway, and closing the door behind him as he went.

“The king will kill you for your betrayal, oath breaker.  He will cleave your head from your body and hang it atop his wall.”  The black cloaked figure that had been our guide said, his eyes sparkling beneath the dark hood.

I heard the sound of metal clearing leather and saw, to my surprise, that Malice had drawn her steel.  There was a dangerous look in her eyes, one to match anything the black cloak might have to offer.

“Shut your rotting hole, or your head will reach the wall in far shorter time.”  Her voice was as cold as the metal she wielded.  I placed a hand on the hilt of my own weapon, uncertain where events might go next.

The black cloak merely smiled, and placed a finger over his lips, as if quieting himself.  He took a step back, bowing slightly.  I watched Malice, not sure what she would do.  The point of her sword was so steady that she could have been a statue.  Not only was I uncertain what she would do, I didn't believe that Malice knew what she intended either.  A few breaths passed, and finally she returned her sword to its scabbard, and stood quietly by me once more.

We waited in silence for Tempest to return, the time seeming to crawl by with painful slowness.  Tension hung in the air, growing heavier by the moment, until I feared someone would do something drastic just to end the torment of waiting.  It was then that the door swung open once more, and Tempest stepped through.

“The king will see you both now.”  He said, before turning and going back through the narrow doorway.  Malice and I followed him.  The gap ran five feet long and required one of my height to enter slightly hunched over, and strafing sideways to clear the thinner portions of solid stone wall.  The castle had not been built with comfortable passage in mind, but with the intention of offering strong defense, and the entry would serve well for that.  To my pleasure and relief, the black cloak did not accompany us into the castle.  His threat still hung heavily in my mind.  What did the king intended for us?

The narrow entry way opened up into a large room, large enough for a sizable force to pile in and hold the narrow gap for as long as need be, I realized.  It was yet another defensive design choice.  Within this large opening, four more Knights of Ethan stood in waiting.  I didn't recognize any of them.  I was noticing that the black cloaked creations seemed to be only used in places outside of the castle.  Perhaps the king was afraid of his own demons.  That was an important detail, I thought, and so made a point of remembering it.

“Should we take their weapons?”  A female Knight of Ethan spoke from where she stood, hand on hilt, as we entered the room.

Tempest considered that for a moment, and then shrugged.  “It wouldn't make them much less dangerous," He looked at us both pointedly.  “And I don't believe they're stupid enough to try anything with so many Knights around.”  He turned to look intently at Malice and me.  “I will not do you the dishonor of stripping you of your weapons.”  His eyes narrowed.  “What happens after you meet with his Highness, will be for him to decide.  I make you no promises.”

I found myself waiting once more, this time I was just beyond the great double doors leading to the king's audience chamber.  All around Malice and me stood an entourage of Knights, all dressed in their shifting cloaks in various postures of readiness.  I counted eight of them, all watching us with the intensity of a predator eying prey.  Tyvel was still absent, and what little of my patience remained was dwindling more quickly by the second.

Tempest had gone ahead.  Without his presence the other Knights around us seemed far more menacing.  I wondered if they all knew about my weakened state.  In my chest I could feel the slow rhythmic beating of my heart.  Over the past few days it had begun to feel natural again.  It was almost as if I had never severely damaged it in my fight with Whisper of the Mist.  Unfortunately, I knew better than that.  My healing ability had kept me alive to that point, but my heart could only take so much strain.  The only question that remained for me was whether or not the Knights of Ethan surrounding me knew that I was less than whole.  I hoped they did not.  I straightened my shoulders and stood as tall as I could.

At long last, in what I hoped would be the culmination of all my waiting, Tempest swung open the double doors and spoke the words I both dreaded and anticipated.

“The king will see you now.” He turned his back as he finished talking, and proceeded back through the double doors.  The other Knights of Ethan followed behind him, and once they were all through, we followed after them.

The audience chamber was decorated in such a way that one wouldn't know it was part of a stone fortress.  The walls had been paneled in wood, and the floor was lushly carpeted.  There was a large round table in the center of the room.  Tapestries adorned the walls, featuring images of lush natural scenes, and at the far end of the room sat the throne atop a raised platform.  The room was larger than any found in a normal home, but far smaller than a dining hall might have been.  It was, however, spacious enough to accommodate all those gathered.

The king sat in the throne, dressed in the finest clothes I'd ever seen.  The fabric he wore shone with its own unique type of magic.  The Knights of Ethan had cloaks designed for functionality, and the king's outfit was different, yet similar in its own fashion.  I sensed that it served a purpose, but that purpose was far different from the shifting cloaks worn by the Knights.  Even as resistant to such glamour as my eyes were, I could not help but be impressed and awed at the sight of the king; the subtle magics of his attire working their suggestions on my mind.  He also wore an assortment of expensive looking jewels, including those set in his crown, a thoroughfare of black and purple stones of extremely fine cut.

The man beneath the crown looked every bit the part of a king.  His features were noble and strong, the result of a long line of intentional breeding.  He had a wolfish intelligence about his eyes, but also a calm brutality that spoke much of his personality without him ever having to say a word.  I was immediately reminded of Lucidil, the leader of the Broken Swords.  He shared an intensity with the king, a set of the jaw that said he would obtain what he wanted, whatever the cost might be.

The king was not alone on his raised platform. To either side of him stood a different person.  On his left was a man I knew only too well.  Ethaniel, the leader and founder of the Knights of Ethan, and the king's primary advisor on all matters of security and war.  He stood in a dignified silence, tall and powerful, his eyes shining with the barest hint of deep blue in their black depths.  He was considered by many to be the strongest of the Knights of Ethan.  Lucidil believed himself stronger, and he believed that I too was stronger, but I was not certain myself.  Strength seemed to radiate from the legendary figure.  Ethaniel wore no cloak, but a simple outfit of gray and black, his sword at his side, and his massive wings folded behind him.

To the king's other side was a woman I did not recognize at all.  Not only was her face unfamiliar to me, but her entire race was one I had never encountered before.  Her skin was a deep ashen gray, and her long hair, which hung freely about her shoulders, was a pale blue so light that it looked as though it were merely a white blond being kissed by moonlight.  She was tall, taller even than Malice and I, and muscular as well.  She held a long spear with a wicked edged blade at one end, and what appeared to be a weighted ball at the other.  It was not a weapon design I was familiar with.  Her clothes were also of an unfamiliar cut, form fitting, but shaped of what appeared to be a solid hide material.  It looked like a light form of armor, but I could not be certain without closer inspection.  Most startling of all about this woman were her eyes that shone like mirrors, silver and reflective.  I wondered if she were one of a people I had never heard of, or another creation of the king.

We reached the base of the dais, only a line of Knights and fifteen feet stood between us and the king, the man who had ordered my daughter kidnapped and Wisp murdered.  I forced myself to remain calm because every muscle in my body, every single piece of my being, wanted me to carve a path of death straight through to the man who had cost me so much.  The king stood from his throne.

“You have your audience, now speak your case.”  He said, and there was anger in his voice.  At that I nearly lost my composure.  That he would stand up and demand that I speak my case, when he had been the one to bring such destruction into my life.  He had been the one to force my audience.

“Where is my daughter?!”  I demanded, pushing back my hood.  “What have you done to Kaylien?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the Knights gathered around, and no few swords began to slide from scabbards.  The king's voice piled over top of all other sounds, seeming to thunder unnaturally from him.  I guessed it to be an augmentation provided by some form of enchantment.

“You dare come into my court and accuse me of wrong doing, Lowin Fenly, when it is you and yours who have wronged this kingdom?  You, who have been given so much, and elevated to the highest position next to my own, dare come into this place and make such venomous accusations?”  His voice grew louder with every word, attempting to force me into supplication, but I would not be bowed.

“You killed the woman I love.  You ordered my daughter stolen away, and your men killed and raped a woman I cherished as a sister.  If you do not tell me what you have done with my daughter now, I swear I will have your head.”  The words escaped me before I could hold them back.  I knew the mistake in them before I even heard the whisper of every sword in the room leaving a scabbard.

“It is obvious my advisor, Tyvel, was fooled by you.  You have no information that would be of value to me. To the dungeons with you both.  I will decide your fate tonight, and tomorrow your punishment will be carried out.”  At his words, the guards advanced on us, though neither Ethaniel or the silver-eyed woman moved from where they stood.  The silver-eyed warrior seemed to have a sad expression on her face, as though she was disappointed by something, but I did not have time to consider such things.  My hopes were crushed.  Tyvel had been right.

The king had denied that he had Kay.  Why had he done that, and why had Tyvel warned us that he might?  I drew my sword, but I was slower than my vengeful friend.  Malice's form blurred, and she launched into a full attack on the guards that approached her.  Before she sped up, I saw such a look of rage on her face as I'd never seen there before.  Once she was in motion, I saw nothing of her, for she was far too fast.

Four Knights came my way, and I knew with a certainty that I would be killed.  I couldn't match them for speed or strength, not with my heart injured as it was.  I charged into the closest Knight, hoping to take him by surprise, but he slipped into full speed, knocking my sword high, and charging in fast and straight.  The injury happened before I could even register I'd been hit.  Pain exploded through my right side and I fell backwards, swinging my sword in a useless defensive arc.  His blade had pierced my right side, below my rib cage, and cut all the way through.  He was too fast.  Another Knight came in at me, he blurred and a blade pierced my right thigh.  I fell to the ground, my leg giving way.  My heart thudded in my chest, as steady as a drum beat.  Could I risk pushing my limits so soon after recovering from my near fatal wounding?  If I did not try, I knew I would be dead anyway.  All four of the Knights were around me now, and I was about to push my heart forward.  It jumped in my chest, pain shot through me, and then Malice was in front of me, blood spattered across her cloak and weapon.

She was injured, but when I glanced back to where she had been fighting, I saw that the four guards that had attacked her lay dead.  I pushed my heart again, it pounded fiercely, the world lurched and slowed, pain exploded in my chest and the world resumed normal speed.  The figures around me blurred into combat, and I could do nothing to stop them.  My eyes traced the indistinct lines of light that marked the passage of movement, but could not pick out the shapes that made those movements.

Suddenly all motions stopped, Malice's body slumped to the ground, a bleeding sword wound starkly evident in the center of her ribs, and a look of shock on her face.  She was covered in cuts and gashes.  The four Knights blurred back into normal speed, one falling to the ground as his head slid from his neck.  The other three stalked in to deliver the killing blow.  I threw myself in their path.

“No!  We're done.  Imprison us, but don't kill her.  I will answer for all that has happened.  It was I who forced her into this course of action, and it was I who she sought to protect.  I accept responsibility for everything that has happened.  Please do not kill her!”  I pleaded as I never had before.  I hated the words I spoke, but for the sake of Malice, I would speak them.  I would give the murdering king the honor of seeing me grovel, if that is what it would take to save my friend.  The Knights stopped, looking to the dais for their orders.

The king shrugged, sitting back in his chair.  “She will probably die anyway.  That wound is mortal, even among your kind.   But, if you are willing to accept full responsibility, and she is willing to agree to let you take her punishment, I will show her mercy.” He turned to his guards.  “Take the woman to the infirmary, take the other to our deepest cell, and lock him there until I decide what to do with him.”

Malice's eyes were closed, and her skin was so pale as to be almost translucent.  I leaned in close to her.  “Live.  Please, live for me.”  I kissed her forehead, and then the guards grabbed me by my shoulders and lifted me away.  Pain tore through my thigh as I put weight on it, but the wound in my side was already healing.  I knew the other injury would be fine by the time we reached our final destination.  They took my sword, and removed my equipment.  I was led away from Malice, and deep into the depths of the castle's dungeon.

The sound of my cell door closing behind me was only too familiar.  On my journey to rescue Kye I had spent a short amount of time locked in another of the king's dungeons.  Though I sensed that had been a far less imposing situation, even if it had not seemed so at the time.  Deep beneath Kreo castle, I felt certain the consequences of my actions would be dire.

The Knights of Ethan who had locked me away departed, leaving me to the relative darkness of my small stone room.  The front of the cell was entirely crafted of sturdy bars.  There was a torch burning not far down the corridor through which I'd just walked, so I was not enveloped in total darkness.  My eyes used what little light was available efficiently, and I was able to make out most of my surroundings with no trouble.

The room in which I was locked was about six by five paces.  There was a pan for waste, and a small amount of hay piled to one side.  Other than that, the room was empty, and surprisingly clean.  Of course, the cell I'd been brought to was one not intended to keep its prisoners long.  I was as good as condemned already.  What would become of Kay and Malice, I wondered?

Thinking of my daughter brought tears to my eyes, and this time I did not bother to stifle them.  I was alone, and I no longer cared to fight back my emotions.  I allowed the salty water to flow until it would not come any longer, and then I sat quietly in the murk and gloom.

It would have been a lie to say I did not fear death, but it would have been a greater lie to say that death was what I feared most.  If I could have known that Malice and Kaylien would be treated well, I would have gladly given my life in a moment.  That uncertainty, not knowing what future awaited them, was one of the worst things I had ever experienced.

Time loses all meaning without the light of day to keep track of the passing hours.  This is especially true in the case of creatures that do not sleep and eat in normal cycles.  Without natural light, I found myself lost in a timeless void, trapped with only my thoughts for company.  Those thoughts, dark as they were, made poor company indeed.

An immeasurable amount of time passed, somewhere between hours and days I guessed, and my sensitive ears picked up the tread of feet far down the corridor.  There were three distinct patterns of movement, two heavier than the third.  I listened intently as they drew nearer the front of my cell.  Finally the three figures emerged into the light from the torch, blocking out most of it as they took position in front of me.  I made out the forms of two Knights of Ethan, one of which was Tempest.  The figure between them was the king.  I had only seen him once, but once was enough to have forever engraved his wolfish features into my mind.

I grit my teeth together, but stood firm.  I guessed that they had come to pronounce my sentence, and I suspected there could be only one recourse for my crimes against the kingdom of men.  I was prepared to answer for it if it would save Malice and Kay.

“It is not often someone is foolish enough to come into my kingdom, into my very castle, and make accusations against me in my own meeting hall.”  The king said, and I could hear the anger in his voice.  His tones were no longer magically enhanced, but they still carried the heavy weight of authority.  I held my tongue.

“You're probably wondering what fate we have in store for you. . .”  He let his words trail off, goading me to speak.  I did.

“I only wish for my daughter and Malice to be given the chance to live out their lives.  I don't care what becomes of me.  Without them I have nothing for which to live anyway.”  I spoke the truth as it was written into my being.  My dearest friend, and my only child, the solitary remnant of her lost mother, were all the treasures I possessed in the world.  Without them my life held no meaning, and if I should die so that they might live, maybe there was meaning to be had in such an action.

“That is a noble sentiment, especially coming from one who has turned traitor to the crown.”  The king's voice was softer, most of the anger seemingly burned off.  After a moment's pause, he added, "Malice will survive her wounds.  She will not be executed, so long as she cooperates, but I don't know anything of your daughter.  Until you burst into my hall and demanded her return, I had not known you had a daughter.  My advisor never mentioned it.”

I could hear the sincerity in his voice now that the enchantment was removed from his speech.  He did not have Kay, and did not know of Kay.  My mind reeled at that prospect.  What did that mean?  If the king had not taken Kay, where had she gone?  I suddenly felt my imprisonment more keenly.  I yearned to be beyond the prison walls, searching for my lost daughter.

“You, Lowin Fenly, are the greatest of fools.  I was prepared to forgive you entirely in light of our current situation, but you had to burst into my meeting hall and lay accusations against me.”  The king shook his head.  “That was a stupid thing to do.  The crime for falsely accusing the king of a high offense is death, to be carried out within a week.”

His words hit like hammer blows in my head.  Death was not an option I could afford while Kay's whereabouts were still unknown.  I opened my mouth to speak, but the king raised a hand, and I decided it best to remain quiet in my compromised position.

“You are, however, more valuable to me alive than you are dead . . . at the moment.  Even if you will not serve me willingly, you should provide some useful information to my researchers.  There are a few who are quite eager to find out how it was that you brought life back to Malice's eyes.  They have told me for years that such an act was impossible.”  The king shrugged wearily.  “We need every advantage we can get right now.    You have been long gone, Lowin, and I do not believe you understand the state of the world.  Now is not the time for making new enemies, not when allies are of greater value.  Tomorrow, we shall see, but today. . .”

The king turned and started away.  I wanted to stop him and say something, but I couldn't imagine what words would be the right ones.  I had questions pilling up in my head, but not enough time to sort them all out.  The king stopped and turned back to me.

“Cooperate with my researchers, Lowin, and things will go better for Malice.  I don't like to make such threats, but we need your cooperation.”  With that, he turned and walked away.  I sat numbly in my cell, going over his words again and again in my head.  He didn't have Kay.   Some other party was responsible, and I knew not who.  I suspected that Tyvel could tell me more, but his box had been taken with the rest of my equipment.

“. . . in light of our current situation . . .” The king had said.  That was something else to consider.  What had changed about the situation of the world that would make the king willing to pardon me, and what information had he thought I was bringing?  What of the false ghost?  Had Tyvel given the king false information to insure that Malice and I were granted an audience?  Another question that immediately jumped to mind; Had Tyvel been trying to get Malice and me to kill the king?  Based upon all that happened, that seemed like a logical deduction, but why would Tyvel do such a thing when his life was in the hands of the king?  What did the ghost-like man have to accomplish through such deception?

I pondered my many questions through the hours of perpetual gloom.  Time slipped away as my thoughts churned.  I could find few answers without more information, but I felt a growing suspicion that Lucidil might have something to with the disappearance of my daughter.  I could think of no other that would benefit from me attacking the king, but if it was the leader of the Broken Swords, how had he orchestrated it all?  Tyvel was the king's advisor, admitted by the king's own words, so how could Lucidil have been involved?  It would be easy to accuse the fallen Knight, but at the same time, the facts did not seem to support such an accusation.

More time passed, hours, maybe days, and I paced uselessly within the walls of my cell.  I could not sleep, so troubled was my mind, and I was not tired anyway.  Being awake, though, was taking its toll on me.  I forced myself to sit down and relax.  So quiet was the gloom of the dungeon that I could hear the beat of my own heart.  It hammered heavily in my chest, seemingly intent upon breaking free from my ribcage, though I had not done anything to force it to beat so quickly.

I guessed that it was reminding me I had pushed it too far in the king's meeting hall.  I realized, for the first time, just how serious the damage done to that vital organ had been.  No matter how good it might feel in the future, my damaged heart would never fully heal.  My body was powerful - perhaps more powerful than any other alive - but my heart could barely sustain a strong run, let alone the levels of pressure it would need to withstand in order to fully take advantage of my strength and speed.

Footsteps on stone sounded, and my ears snapped to attention, picking up the approach of two people.  One of them was far lighter than the other, walking with the sway of a female not trained for fighting.  The other was a Knight of Ethan, every footstep accompanied by a slight leather creak of sword and belt, and the click of claw on stone.  I stood and made myself as presentable as possible.  The two figures came into the light of the torch nearest my prison cell.

The Knight of Ethan was female as well, young in appearance, as we all were thanks to the perpetual youth granted us by our eyes.  She stood stiff and formal.  Her face, all but her mouth, was mostly concealed by her Lucidil Cloak.  The sash that could be pulled up to cover the lower half of her features hung freely down the front of her cloak.

The woman whom she was guarding was slight, seeming too thin for her own skin.  Her eyes were wide and curious, though she was older than I was by maybe ten years.  I guessed her to be one of the king's researchers.  She was dressed in a simple brown robe featuring the king's seal on the left breast.  For a time she stood merely looking at me, her eyes appraising my worth to whatever project she was working on.  There was a certain coldness about her stare, something that told me her compassion stretched only so far as it had to, when held against the prospect of advancing her field of study.

“I have been told that you are responsible for the green eyes of the other one, Malice.”  Whether she was asking or not, it sounded like a statement to me.  I did not answer the scientist.  “I have been studying such possibilities for a long time, but have found no way to reverse the decay of the Uliona eyes once it has begun.   They are very delicate, and they almost always lose most of their potency in the transfer to a new body.   With the female, Malice, how did you revitalize her?”

That was a question that was hard to answer.  Malice had been a friend of mine for a long time, and we had been intimate together on two occasions.  Her eyes had been black until the morning after we'd lain together the second time.  I believe we both suspected it had something to do with that intimacy, but neither of us could be certain.  I looked at the researcher who stood before me, and finally I extended my hand through the bars of my cage.

“I am Lowin Fenly, and you are. . .”  If I was to discuss such intimacies with the woman, I would know her name at least.

The female Knight of Ethan stepped between us, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“No physical contact with the prisoner.  He is dangerous.”  She said, aiming her words at both the researcher and myself.  I withdrew my hand and stalked back into the deeper darkness of my cell.  It made sense that they would keep people away from me.  They seemed to believe I was still capable of my full physical potential, though I was uncertain why Tyvel had not told them the truth about my condition.  I had no ill intent for the researcher, but it was only reasonable to keep her distant.

“I am Trina Rew.  You may call me Trina.  Now, tell me exactly what you did to bring the color back to your friend's eyes.”  The skinny woman gave me her name, and cut right to the point.

For Malice's sake, I would tell them what I knew, though it was not something I was comfortable speaking about.  I gave her the answer she was looking for in as brief a way as possible, and to my chagrin she demanded more detail.  Every time I provided more, she asked further questions.  I answered them all, feeling as embarrassed as ever I had.  What made it all worse was the barely restrained smirk of the Knight who stood in attendance.  I grit my teeth and answered every question I could, until finally the woman seemed content.  She turned and departed without so much as word of goodbye.

Sometime later, a person came by with a fresh chamber pot, food, and a basin in which I was able to clean myself to some extent.  Everything was passed through a narrow gap beneath the door of the cell.  Once all was taken away, I sat in silence once more, and ate my small portion of food.  It wasn't good, but it provided nourishment.  It took very little food to sustain my body, just as it took very little rest.  I waited, and no one came again.  Finally, I forced myself to sleep.

Footsteps woke me.  I came to my feet quickly, casting away the fog of sleep as expediently as possible and forcing myself alert.  There was only one person coming this time, as I judged by the footfalls, a Knight of Ethan.  Even when my food and water was brought, there had always been at least two people, so I was surprised to hear only one.  I stood back from the entrance of my small room.  Tempest stepped into view.

His eyes passed over me, a look of distaste on his face.  “You have fallen far, Lowin Fenly.”  His coarse voice said.  “I had a great deal of faith in you, you know.  Kyeia believed that you would be a great source of good in our world.”

His words stung more than if he'd merely hit me.  Of all the moral issues that had ever plagued me, Kyeia had posed the greatest.  She had been loyal to the king, believing in the good that would come of the sacrifice she had made.  I had long fought to make myself believe that her death had been right, because she had believed in it, but I had never been able to come to terms with that.  One fact dissuaded me from accepting her devotion.  The Uliona were bound into a contract that would last as long as a human king reigned.  That contract was magically binding, forcing those strongest of the Uliona people to be given up as sacrifice for the creation of the Knights of Ethan.  The Uliona had no say-so themselves.  The situation was no better than slavery, and I couldn't accept that.

“Kye believed what she had to, Tempest.  She was not given any choice in the matter.  The king's contract took away her freedom, and that of her people.”  I said, putting as much conviction into my words as I could manage.  It was not easy, since the elder Knight had struck on exactly a matter that had plagued me for years.

“For her it was an honor to die for our country!”  Tempest's voice held a fierce snap.  “That is as it should be; for a Knight of Ethan, or even for a lowly keeper of lore.  We all serve the king to make this world better, but you. . .”  He spat at the ground at his feet.

“You squander your gift and belittle your Bound One's sacrifice because you think you have the right to question the authority of the king.  What is worse, you have killed our brothers and sisters, fellow Knights who have worked hard, and lived difficult lives for the cause in which they believe.”  There was a terrible fury behind his words, and I could hear his control of “the voice” slipping away as he spoke, making his words even sharper than they already were.

“I loved Kye, and if you think. . .”  I began, my own words heated by the conflicting anger and misery that rolled within me.

“I know you loved her, and that is why what you've done to her memory is even more terrible than it would be otherwise.  I came here to tell you, Lowin, that you are the worst type of man.  You are one who cares nothing for anyone but yourself.  The king has said he will not kill you, and I will abide by his word, but know that I believe you deserve the death you have been saved from.”  Tempest's cloak snapped as he spun about and departed, leaving me once more in the terrible silence.

He could not have aimed his words with any more lethality.  If his goal had been to demoralize and destroy my sense of self, he had achieved it in one short speech.  He had accused me of everything I had most feared about myself, and I wasn't certain any longer that he was wrong.  It was difficult to look back at my choices, and still believe them to have been the right ones.  What would Kye think of what had become of me?

The king sacrificed innocent lives to make his armies powerful.  Tempest's king, my king, killed innocent people, stole their lives away, so that his army would be more potent.  He did this, he said, to insure a safe world for the kingdom of men, but did the ends justify the means, and was the safety of his people really all he wanted?

I walked to the wall of my cell and slammed my fist into the stone there, an act of pointless rage that did little but shatter the bones within my fist, and tear the flesh from my knuckles.  The wounds began to heal at once, but a dark stain remained on the wall.  I wanted to fight back, to strike out at the injustice of the world, but all I could do was rage at the stone.  The stone did not care to listen.

I closed my eyes, and willed the world to end.

“You're being moved.”  Those words startled me from my sleep.  I'd taken to sleeping as often as possible, even when I did not feel tired at all.  I couldn't be certain how much time had passed, but I guessed it to be months.  At first I had tried to stay active, but as time wore on any hope of escape I retained began to fade, and so I simply slumped into a corner of my dank cell and slept.  Other than the servant sent to give me water and food and their guard, who came only infrequently, no other visitors ever entered the dungeon.  That didn't bother me as much as knowing that Kay was somewhere out in the world beyond the bars of my prison, likely in terrible danger.

I stood up and stretched, the muscles in my body responding quickly despite their many days of inactivity.  So long as I still drew breath, my muscles and my body would remain powerful.  That was one more legacy of the power I'd gained when I received Kyeia's eyes.

Four guards stood at the entrance to my cell, each dressed in the shifting cloaks of the Knights of Ethan, and each with their swords drawn.   I wondered for a moment if I could take them all and make an escape, but I knew that with my injured heart I did not stand a chance. The betraying organ hammered heavily in my chest, as it had been doing for several days, in a strange fits to remind me of its weak mortality.  I could almost feel it pounding at my ribs, as though it were trying to escape from the body that had so abused it.  I wondered if the new pounding was an indication that the muscle was wearing down.

The door to my cell swung open for the first time since I'd entered it, and two guards came forward and grabbed my arms, locking their fists around my wrists tightly, and pointing their swords so that the tips rested just below my throat.  The Knights were strong, but I knew that I was stronger.  If my heart had been reliable, I could have easily pulled myself free from my captors, but I knew how much stood on the line and so I submitted.  Somewhere beyond the walls of the castle, Kay was waiting for me to come and save her.  If I died, she would have no one to come for her.  I wondered, as well, what had become of Malice.  If Malice broke free, I knew that she would look for Kaylien, but where could she begin?  Where would I begin if I was free?  It was a question hardly worth considering.

I hung my head in defeat, and let the guards lead me where they would.  We did not go far, but the scenery around me did change.  We seemed to be passing from one section of the prison into another.  The cells were becoming better kept as we went, until finally we came to hallways lined with not bars, but heavy steel doors.  I was lead past a few of these before my heavily armed guards stopped, and pushed open a metal door to reveal a surprisingly pleasant room.  There was a well-made bed, and enough room to walk twelve paces from wall to wall.  There were no windows, but I saw a room off to one side that looked like a private bathing room.

I was so surprised that I nearly opened my mouth to ask why I was being moved to such a room, but one of my guards spoke first.  She was gruff voiced, obviously a recipient of “the voice,” but I could tell nothing else of her since her hood was pulled low.

“Make yourself presentable for a visitor.  You have one hour.”  She said, before I was pushed into the room, and the heavy door was shut behind me.

The space was well lit, and even furnished with a desk and a few chairs.  I found myself confused, and a little worried.  For the first time in ages events were moving again.  I had grown accustomed to the monotony, and I was taken aback by how quickly things were changing.  I decided it would be best to do as I was told, and the thought of a proper cleaning did seem appealing.

I stepped into the bathing room and found the tub was already full of water that was still warm to the touch.  Beside the tub were a mirror and a blade for shaving, as well as a fresh change of clothes set out for me.  I stopped as I saw myself in the mirror for the first time since in a long while.

I had not precisely grown a beard, but my face was covered in rough and patchy stubble.  My eyes had great dark circles around them, and my cheeks were gaunt.  My flesh, which had always been pale, had become almost translucent.  My hair was long now, it hung far below the line of my chin, and was matted and terribly greasy.  I went to work with the blade, cutting the knots from my hair, and trimming the mess of stubble from my face.  After a few minutes of this I looked better, but still quite rough around the edges.

I stripped away the clothes I'd been wearing for the entire length of my imprisonment, and cast them aside before stepping into the warm water.  By the time I was done with the water and provided soap, the tub was dark gray with filth, but I was feeling considerably better.  I pulled myself reluctantly from the bath and did my best to wring the moisture from the fur of my arms and legs.  It wasn't the first time in my life I'd had to do so, but it had been a while, and I'd almost let myself forget just what a pain it was to dry fur.

I dressed in the clothes provided, a strange outfit of gray and blue, a set of colors I'd never worn in my life, let alone since I'd joined the Knights of Ethan so long before.  I felt better once I was clean and freshly dressed, but without my familiar cloak about my shoulders, I still felt exposed.  I was cleaned and ready for whatever visitor might come, but I still had time, so I walked about the new room to which I'd been brought.

For all that it was nice, it was still a prison cell.  There was no way to view the world outside and contained little that would provide a distraction from the tedium of time.  I lay down upon the bed and began to think.  I wondered who was coming to see me that would require I have a new room, and be cleaned ahead of time.  The king himself had come to my dark prison cell to see me, so what was different about this new person?

I desperately wanted it to be Malice, and even more desperately hoped it would be Malice holding Kay, and that she would tell me the king had lied, and that she had been taking care of Kay the entire time I'd been in the cell below.  I knew that latter hope was beyond reality, and I didn't fully believe the prior either.  Such hopes were foolish.

I was startled from my thoughts by the sound of the door opening.  I sat up in bed.  The door closed and a single figure stood within the room, dressed in a shifting cloak, the hood pulled low.  As I stood from the bed, the figure drew back her hood to reveal a female Knight of Ethan that I was unfamiliar with.  She had short cropped black hair, and soft features that blended to give her face an almost child-like vigor.  What struck me strangest of all, were the clawed hands that drew back her hood.  They were covered in a wispy white fur unlike any I'd seen on a Knight of Ethan before.  She smiled at me, an expression that looked rehearsed.  I could sense an underlying tension beneath the facade.  Fear.  She was afraid of me.  Of course, she, like the others, believed I was one of the most powerful Knights of Ethan.  I was not inclined to disillusion her.

“I am Snow.”  She said, her voice quiet, despite the open smile she was forcing.  “I've been sent here to provide you company.”  With those words she unfastened her cloak and dropped it about her feet, revealing that she wore not a single scrap of cloth beneath the shifting fabric.  Her body was pale white and flawless, her breasts on the small side, with nipples so light pink they virtually vanished.  It had been years since I'd seen a woman naked, and just as long since I'd been with one, but I had no interest in sleeping with a woman who meant nothing to me.

“You may thank whoever sent you on my behalf, but I am not interested.”  I said, and turned my back to her, ignoring the temptation she provided to the best of my ability.  The truth was that my body hungered for hers.  It had been far too long since I'd been with a woman.  The carnal part of me that was a lonely human man wanted to feel the warmth of her feminine charm.

I heard the soft padding of her pawed feet approaching, and then her arms were around me, her small, pert breasts pressed against my back.  Her arms wrapped around me, her hands seeking down my body, brushing the growing excitement I was trying to ignore.  I spun and pushed her away.

“I am not interested.”  I said once more, anger creeping into my voice.

She smiled again, almost shyly, and this time there was more honesty in the expression.  “You felt interested to me, Lowin.”  She stepped closer to me, hesitantly, as though she still feared me.  “You will like it.  I can make you feel better than you have ever felt before, and when we're done you don't ever have to see me again if you don't want to.  How many women would offer that?”

She reached for me again, and I felt my resolve slipping away.  It had been so very long, and she was willing and warm.  I let her touch me, her hands going immediately to the buttons on my shirt, which she made deft work of.  My control fell entirely away, and I grabbed her up in my arms and drew her to the bed.  The rest of my clothes I tore away, my dangerous claws rendering them to ribbons in seconds.  I felt her start against me as my claws sharpened to remove the fabric, her heart beating erratically for a moment until she realized my intent, and then she was upon me, her mouth meeting mine hungrily.

There was little building to the moment.  Once my clothes were away, I pierced her with a lust that demanded satiation.  Her body responded readily, writhing against mine, warm, wet and inviting.  We rolled together until finally sweet release came, bursting forth like a great eruption of joy and madness boiling up from my body.  I lay at her side, breathing heavily, listening to the steady pounding rhythm of my own heart.  It thrummed against my ribs, as heavily as it had for weeks, but no harder.

Snow's lips brushed my neck, and she leaned in close to one of my wolf-life ears, which she nipped at lightly.  “You're not bad, but I can tell you're inexperienced.  Let me show you how to be better.”  She whispered, and then her lips were on parts of my anatomy that had never been kissed, and once more the passion of the moment was all consuming.

In the end, I knew not how many times we repeated the act, for passion blurs details, more so for every hour spent.  Snow, after our final time, got up from the bed, drew her cloak around herself, and with one last smile, departed my room, leaving me alone once more.  My body was sated, the burning passion quieted, but I felt empty and far more alone than I had ever been before.

For some reason, Malice crept into my mind.  I remembered the first time we'd ever made love.  It had been gentle, and clumsy, a first for both of us.  Afterwards we had lain together, sharing in the comfort our closeness.  Snow had been more experienced, and had more tricks to show, but she had left me feeling defeated and empty.  I found myself longing for Malice.  I didn't only want her body, though I did desire her at that moment, despite having just been satisfied.  What I wanted more than anything else from her was just to have her close.  Malice, my dear, dear friend. . .

When next my door opened, I was surprised to see Trina Rew in the company of Snow, as well as one other Knight.  Trina looked angry.  Snow's face was blank, but the other Knight wore an obvious look of disgust.  It was an expression I had grown accustomed to encountering on the faces of the Knights of Ethan.  I had killed many of their number in my quest to save Kye.

“You have not told us everything, Lowin Fenly.”  Trina began, agitation obvious in her voice.

I looked at her blankly.  In my own foolishness, I was completely unaware of what she was talking about, though it should have been obvious to me.  Trina grabbed Snow and pushed her in my direction.

“Her eyes are still black.  What didn't you tell us?”  She accused, shooting me a venomous look.  Snow looked irritated.

It was at that moment the realization finally dawned on me.  Snow had not merely been sent to me as company, but as an experiment to see if my physical affections were all that was required to bring the color back to a Knight's eyes.  That knowledge hurt me.  I had known that Snow wasn't really interested in me, but it had been possible to convince myself that the act was at least one of mutual enjoyment.  Now that I knew the white-furred Knight's affections were nothing more than a part of Trina's experiment, I felt betrayed.

I turned my back on them, which turned out to be a mistake on my part.  I felt a strong clawed hand on my shoulder, gripping hard, turning me back around.  I allowed the motion, lest I risk the grip tightening and tearing flesh.  The black eyes of the male Knight of Ethan glared at me.

“If you do not cooperate with us, your woman will be the one to suffer, Fenly.”  The researcher's words were heavy with spite.

“I've told you what I know.  What happened with Malice was unintentional.  We lay together, and the next morning she awoke with her eyes restored.”  It was hard for me to speak rationally.  So much anger lay curled up inside me, waiting to erupt.  I had done my utmost to provide them with the answers they wanted, and in return I received naught but distrust and betrayal.

“Do you think it would make a difference if we had Snow stay the night in your room with . . .” Trina began, but her words were the last straw.  I wanted no more to do with Snow, or with Trina Rew and her research.

“I've no desire to bed your whore again.”  I spat the words.  For her part, Snow looked injured at my tone.  Trina's reaction was different.  The woman stepped forward threateningly, something I had not expected from the slight-bodied human woman.

“You'll bed her as many times as it takes, and until I'm satisfied about the results of the experiment, or I'll see that every man in this compound has a go at your precious Malice before we dissect her to see what makes those green eyes glow.  Do you understand me, Lowin Fenly?”  Whether it was the long period of isolation, my anger over discovering that they had deceived me with Snow, the direct threat to Malice, or some combination of all of those things, I found myself pushed too far.

I charged forward, my claws honing to infinitely fine points, reacting to my will.  A figure to my side blurred, and suddenly a Knight of Ethan - not Snow, but the other - was standing directly in my path, his blade drawn.  I reached for my speed and strength without thinking, demanding my body give me what I needed to deal with the threat before it could harm me.  The world slowed to a crawl, but I did not.

I flashed my fist forward as fast and hard as I could, throwing his sword aside with my free hand.  The balled knot of muscle and bone that was my fist struck the Knight in his chest with such ferocity that I felt his weight lift from the floor.  He was still ascending from my attack when I began to move towards Trina.  I grabbed the skinny woman by the throat and carried her to the wall, slamming her back with enough force to stun her, but not enough to kill her.  I let the world fall back to a normal pace. It didn't waver as it normally did, but instead snapped from its frozen state back to full motion.  Behind me I heard a sword clearing a scabbard, and the sound of a heavy body slamming into the metal door of my cell.  I didn't look.

“You will not threaten Malice in front of me.  I am cooperating to the fullest extent of my will, but you cannot get from me that which is not mine to give.  I have told you all I know, and even served, admittedly unknowingly, as your stud.  I can do no more.”  I dropped her as I finished speaking, and she fell the few feet to the floor.  I felt a sword point at my back, the dangerous tip pressing with enough pressure to draw blood.  Rew stared up at me with eyes wide and full of terror.  Her mouth hung opened as if in a scream she couldn't force free.

“Monster. . .”  She muttered the word over and over again.

“Step away from Rew, Lowin, or I will cut you apart.”  It was Snow's voice, and her tone was deadly serious.  I did as she asked, stepping away from Trina Rew, and moving further back into my room.  I turned to face the woman with the sword.

Snow's face was calm, but there was a mix of emotions playing behind her eyes.  I sensed fear from her again, even though she stood at the other end of a sword.  She looked at me incredulously, even as the other guards worked on getting the door open.

“Trina is right, you really are a monster.”  Snow said quietly, her words pitched so that only I could hear.  “I'm fast, but I could barely see. . .”  Another Knight walked up beside her, sword drawn, and Snow fell silent.

The other Knight, a woman I didn't recognize, spit at my feet.  “We should just kill you now.  Ravage is all broken up.  He looks like he's been trampled by a herd of reave haulers.”  The female Knight drew in closer, her sword leveled at my neck.  “I don't know why they even let you live this long.”  The murderous intent was obvious in her eyes.

“Don't you kill him, Rage.  His actions were uncalled for, but I provoked them.”  Trina called from where she was slowly standing, still shaking visibly.  “I said things I shouldn't have, thinking he was hiding the truth, but I was wrong, and I will take responsibility for this.  The king has given Malice his protection, and it wasn't my place to threaten her.”  She said this last part while looking at me.  Fear colored her expression.

Rage did not look convinced.  “There is always someone stepping in to save you, murdering scum.”  She looked as though she might still attack, but Snow put a hand atop her sword blade and pushed it down.  Rage looked at the white furred Knight, a look close to betrayal on her features, and then she turned to me and spat in my direction again before sheathing her weapon.

“You can leave.  The situation is under control.”  Snow said, her eyes never leaving mine, her sword point remaining up.

Rage left, with some hesitation.  Once she was out of the room, after helping the others remove the crumpled body of the Knight that had been called Ravage, Snow lowered her weapon.  Trina stood behind her, a few feet back.

Snow returned her weapon to its sheath, but did not take her eyes from me.  Trina only stayed a moment more before she turned and left the room with the others, leaving me alone with Snow.  The white clawed Knight was studying me with renewed intensity, as though looking for some aspect of me that remained hidden.

“I'm not a whore.”  She finally said, breaking the silence.  “I agreed to bed you because none of the others wanted to do it, and no few of them indicated they might kill you if given such an opportunity.”  Her words struck me as strange, for it sounded as though she were trying to raise my opinion of her, not something most of the Knights would have cared to do since they didn't consider me worthy of the life I lived.  “I did what I did so they wouldn't have to, and because the king wants you alive.”

My heart felt suddenly heavy with guilt.  “Don't let my words bother you.  They were spoken in anger, and I didn't mean them.”  I didn't feel any better about what had passed between us, but I regretted lashing out at Snow.  If what she said was true, and I had no reason to doubt that it was, she had in essence sacrificed herself for her duty.  It was unpleasant to think of my company as a “sacrifice,” but I understood all the same.

“For what it's worth, once we got started, I did enjoy myself.”  She said, and then, after hesitating a moment she added, “If you try to escape, I'll have to kill you, so please don't try.  I don't understand why you betrayed the king, but I don't think you're an evil person.  I have been a Knight for a long time, and I've met many terrible people.  You are different.  So, please, don't make me kill you.”  She turned and departed, sealing the door behind her.

I couldn't begin to make sense of her words, but I found some comfort in them.  Snow was one less person who hated me, and that, at least, was something I could appreciate.

I stood in silence, listening to the mutter of my heart in my chest, beating at the same strange, fierce pace it had been beating for weeks.  What had just occurred - my speed, my strength - should have been crippling, or even fatal to me.  Yet, I found that I wasn't even winded.  Something had changed within me.

I slept, and no one came.  Weeks swept by, and then months passed with nothing more than food being brought to me.  I tried to talk to those who brought my rations, but they did not answer, and their Knight guards shot murderous glances in my direction.  I had thought someone would come to talk with me about what had happened with Trina and Snow, but they did not, and as time became a blurred haze of passing moments I began to wonder if I had been forgotten.

Thoughts of Malice and Kay filled my mind.  I don't know how long it took, but my confinement finally got to me, and I awoke one day in a great panic.  I pounded on the door to my room until my fists were bloody messes.  It was to no avail, however.  The door was too solid for me to do more than dent it.  I demanded audience with the king, and I demanded my freedom, but the guards either did not hear me, or more likely, did not care to acknowledge me.

I stayed like that for a long time, clawing at the walls and door, trying to break free from my prison, but I achieved nothing.  No food or drink came to me during that time, though I knew that I was long overdue for both.  My mouth was dry, my body tired.  Finally, I stopped fighting the walls, and for the first time I considered the prospect that I might be locked in my cell until it fell down around me.

I lay atop my bed, asleep or awake - I couldn't be certain any longer.  My dreams and reality seemed to merge and blend together, forming a quasi-existence in which I was able to hold my daughter, and tell her of her mother, and other times I was simply alone in the dark.  My last candles had burned out long before, and no one had seen fit to have them replaced, so my room was in complete darkness when the door was sealed.

I dreamed that I saw a march of the dead, a great procession of bodies, faces I'd seen lying dead at Fell Rock, after the Lantern Eye had attacked and destroyed the post.  There were the faces of Brutal, Silent, and Wisp, and most terrifying of all, at the end of the parade walked a steadfast Malice, holding little Kaylien in her arms.  I screamed and tried to shake the image away, but the dream was so real that it stayed with me in the darkness of my room.  I screamed for it to end, and finally it did.

The bed beneath me seemed to rumble and heave, and the stone walls groaned in agony.  I shot up from my bed, startled, the grim parade fading around me.

“What was that?”  I asked the darkness, for I had grown accustomed to speaking to the walls.  I found it somehow comforting to hear my own voice, even if no one was around to answer.  Of course, no one replied.  The ground shook again beneath my feet.

“Is that real?  Is that really happening?”  My words were swallowed by the void, a black so pure that even my sensitive eyes found no purchase in its depths.  Again and again the world around me thrummed, as if some giant beyond imagining was stepping closer and closer.  It was as if the very world beneath my feet was trying to tear itself asunder.  I fell to my knees and placed my hands on the floor.  The room shook, the vibrations coming to me through the rock.

“This is happening.  Something is happening. I am not hallucinating.”  I spoke aloud, once more knowing the room would not answer.  The great pounding kept coming, sporadic and irregular, sometimes louder than others.  What, I wondered, was going on beyond the walls of my room?

I banged on the door for the first time since my rush of madness had departed.  “What is going on out there?”  I demanded of my guards.

They did not answer.  I pressed my ear to the massive metal door, listening intently for some indication of what was going on beyond my caged world, but I could hear nothing.  There were no distant muffled voices, no sounds of feet on tile, nothing but the terrible reverberations of the massive thrumming rolling through the foundation of the castle.  I slammed my fist into the door, once, and then again, each time adding more of my considerable strength to the blows.  I don't know what I hoped to accomplish, for I had tried to force the door before and failed.  My knuckles split and bled with the force of every blow, my bones fracturing and mending with each additional hammering.  The door bent, responding to the abuse with a slight dimpling at every impact.

When it was clear that my knuckles would not do the job, I threw my entire body into the effort, slamming against the metal door with all the force I could muster.  At first, the door did not give in the least, but then it occurred to me to use my formidable speed.  I charged at the door, letting the world slow to a crawl around me.  I hit the frame with enough force that, for a few moments, my consciousness went black.  When I recovered, I found myself lying on the floor some distance from the door.  I could feel my shoulder popping back into socket, and the bone knitting itself back together.  I had hit quite hard.  The door still stood, imposing and immobile, though now considerably dented.  I knew how thick and heavy that boundary that lay before me was, and I knew as well that I had done little to curb its effectiveness at holding me in.  I let myself slump to the floor.

I lay in near quietness for a time, the only sound the rumble of the shaking ground, which seemed to be occurring less frequently as the moments fled.  Sometime later I heard the sound of a metal bar being slid through a stone slot, and I sat bolt upright.  It was the sound of my door being opened.

“Who's there?” I asked, coming to my feet in a second.

The door opened, and wondrous light exploded into my room, blinding me for a second or two until my eyes adjusted.  When I saw the two faces looking down at me clearly for the first time, I slumped back to the ground, knowing that I was dreaming again.  The death march must have returned, for I was looking at Silent and Malice.  The first I knew to be dead, the second I hoped was only dead in my nightmares.

“Lowin, get up.  We need to get out of here!”  Malice said, and she tossed something at me, a fabric that shimmered against the light spilling in from the darkness.  It was a Lucidil cloak, not the kind I'd worn for so many years, just a standard model, but the feel of the cool fabric against my hand was enough to bring back pleasant memories.  I looked at the two figures in my room once more, trying to see through the fabric of dreams and darkness.

“Is this real?”  I asked.

Malice nodded, and there was a strange look on her face, a mix of relief, panic, and excitement.  “Come on, the castle is being overrun with monsters.  We have to get out of here now, or we're not going to get out at all.”

I looked at Silent as I stood up.  “You're dead.”  I told him, thinking that he, at least, must be my imagination.

The look he shot me was hard, far harder than I had ever seen him level at me before.  He held out a sword in a scabbard to me.  “Take the weapon and let us depart this place. The Hungering are coming, and they will not leave much of us left if they find us.”

I strapped on the sword, and donned the cloak, deciding that any further questions would have to wait.  I was so overjoyed to see Malice again, and so surprised to find Silent alive, that it was difficult to stay focused, but I fell back on my training, and prepared for whatever lay ahead.  I noted that both Malice and Silent had drawn their swords, so I drew mine as well.  The familiar grip of supple suede beneath my fingers was comforting.

Silent, seeing that I was ready, left the room that had been my prison for so long that it seemed a lifetime.  He led quickly, but cautiously, his eyes ever alert.  As we passed through the corridors of the castle, I found that the whole experience seemed dream-like and frightening.  I remembered the passageways through which we were passing, for I had been taken down them once before, but they were silent and dark, most of the torches long burned out.  The charred smell of burning crept to my nose, and distantly my ears picked up the sounds of battle, swords clashing against armor and swords, but I could tell these were distant noises.

“How will we get out of here, the front entry can't be safe?”  Malice whispered in the dark, but in the stillness of the castle about us, her voice seemed almost loud.

“No, it's not, and the back run is lost as well, but there is another way in and out of this castle, one that very few are aware of.”  Silent replied.

A terrified scream filled the air of the castle, the voice of a woman howling inarticulately as if suffering some terrible pain.  My ears honed on the direction of the sound, and I found my feet turning before I'd even realized it.  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see Malice staring at me.

Her eyes held a great sadness.  She shook her head, “It's already too late for her.”  The scream stopped abruptly.

Hesitantly, I let myself be turned away from the source of that gut-wrenching cry of agony.  “What is out there?”  I asked of the two who lead me.

“They're called the Hungering.”  Silent said, not breaking his pace to speak.  “Do you remember those creatures that attacked our ship the night I disappeared?  That was one of their light scout ships.”  There was real fear in his face, not an expression common amongst the Knights of Ethan, or even the Broken Swords, Lucidil's men.  “They've come back, and they've come in force.”

I remembered the sickly yellow skinned creatures, with their burning red eyes, as they had poured over the railing of their ship, picking at the crew that had been mutilated by canon fire.  They had been massive and powerful, with rows of terrifying teeth.  A shiver ran down my spine.  Brutal had been right.  Those creatures had indeed returned.  I had feared they might, but had let myself believe it wasn't so.  When so much time had passed without hearing of them again, I'd allowed myself to believe the encounter with their ship had been nothing but a chance occurrence.

“We are nothing but a source of food to them.”  Silent said, his eyes darting about the darkness.

Footfalls sounded, moving in our direction.  My ears centered on the disturbance.  I didn't know what was coming, but there were more than one, and they were large.  I had my suspicions.

“Something is coming.”  I said, and Silent stopped in his tracks, bringing his sword up defensively.

“Where?”  He asked, and I pointed in the direction of the approaching sound.  It wasn't long before the others could hear it as well.

“Ready yourself.  Attack fast and hard.  Strike to remove limbs and sever heads.  These demons have multiple hearts and cannot be killed by simply running them through.”  Silent called out.

I felt Malice at my side, close.  Her sword was drawn, and her eyes were watching the dark corridor down which the strange heavy running sound was approaching.  Her nearness reminded me of just how much I had missed her over the course of my imprisonment.  Her green eyes flashed in my mind, a smile resting on the mouth beneath them.  I had not seen that smile in far too long.  Such thoughts, however, were for another time.

We stood in a long corridor, hallways branching off to either side at various intervals down the course of the path we currently occupied.  The sound was approaching from the very end of hallway, coming from the left.  We didn't have to wait long for the source to become clear.

A group of figures charged around the corner.  There were seven of them in all, six of them towering nearly seven feet high, dressed in strange hide armor, with yellow skin, and fiercely glowing red eyes.  The seventh creature was different.  It was low to the ground, but nearly half the size of a war sow, weighing probably three times as much as a man.  It had horns protruding from its head, wickedly curved, and six sets of powerful legs on its underside.  The creature had no fur, but was instead covered in a deep red flesh that looked as though it were stretched tightly about its skeleton.  It had a long pointed snout, with a massive mouth that was muzzled closed.  It had no tail, yet moved with a sinewy, serpentine motion.  As it came around the corner, its eyes focused on our small party and it released a horrible squealing sound, something between a wordless blood lust and joy.  I choked back my initial fear, and prepared for whatever might follow.

The seven visions torn straight from a nightmare charged us at full tilt.  My ears picked up a distinctive “twang,” the sound of a stringed weapon firing, and I was barely able to react in time.  I knew well enough my two companions would not have heard the stringed weapon fire.

My body shifted into full speed, the world slowing around me.  The bolt, a dart not much larger than my hand, but wickedly barbed down the entire length of its shaft, was aimed directly for Silent.  I pushed myself through the syrupy slowness of the world, moving faster than the flashing projectile, which, even slowed, was cutting the air smoothly.  I knocked it from its course with my sword, and resumed normal speed.

“They have crossbows.  Watch out.” I told the others, and as a group we blurred into action, charging the enemy with the full ferocity at our disposal.  The group of enemies seemed as though it had been trained in fighting our kind, for a full volley of arrows exploded in our direction as soon as we launched forward.  I was forced to dive hard to the ground to avoid the rounds, and when I came to my feet I saw that the enemy was drawing up spears and charging forward.  I knew they could not see us, for it was clear they were reacting blindly, but the tactic was a good one, for their line of spears made it difficult to get through to their bodies without sustaining injury.

Our immense speed allowed us to maneuver with often lethal precision, but one side effect of such speed was the amount of momentum one's body accrued.  Once moving at full speed, it became very difficult to change the direction of motion effectively.  Part of a Knights training was in dealing with that limitation of motion, but knowing how to work around the problem, and completely eliminating the problem, were not the same thing.  The spears that snapped up in front of us as we desperately dove away from the arrows were a perfect defense against the Knights, because they forced us to slow our pace in order to avoid skewering ourselves.

I was forced to fall back, Silent at my side.  Malice, however, charged forward, her sword twisting through the air with such precise skill and speed that the line of spears broke against her wrath.  She seemed able to see a path through the enemy weapons that I had not even thought possible.  The way cleared, I followed her into the maul of death.

Malice bypassed the six legged monstrosity entirely, aiming her blows for the yellow skinned enemies that followed it.  Her deft attacks turned every weapon aside with seeming ease, and she followed each deflection with a lethal counter-point strike.  The six legged beast reared up on its hind most legs, exposing four legs with heavy claws ready to slash.  It moved far faster than those that had muzzled it, and it was only inches away from ripping Malice in half when I slammed into it with my full weight.

My sword pierced its body, though with far more resistance that I had anticipated upon first seeing its seemingly thin hide.  I began to pull my blade free, but the creature spun in place, snapping around with such incredible speed that, had it not been muzzled, I surely would have taken a fatal wound.  However, instead of biting into my neck, the leather muzzle struck me hard and threw me backwards, my sword ripping from my hand as I flew.  I used my slowed perception of the world to right myself in the air before I reached the ground, and I came to land on my feet, sliding backwards on the stone floor, but poised to spring again.

The monster was focused on me now, its eyes tracking me with a responsiveness that said it could see me well enough to be a threat, despite my quickness.  My sword still hung from its body, wedged through its flesh and bone like some grotesque ornament or trophy.  I willed my claws sharp, and pushed forward with my legs, launching myself through the air in a deadly arc.  Four sets of claws reacted almost immediately to my attack, slashing through the course of my path.  I deflected three of them, and locked the fourth in a solid grip before my full weight had even arrived at its destination.  I barreled into the monster.  The momentum carried us head over heels across the floor, and through the line of battle that had been joined by both Malice and Silent.

I must be faster.  I told myself, and I was.  I rammed my clawed hand into the joint of one of the beast's many shoulders and tore with all my might.  The creature's head lifted to howl in pain, a sound I could not hear through the void of distorted time, but the distraction was all I needed.  I lashed out again and again, attacking the creature's dangerous arms with every blow, and though it tried to respond, I was moving too quickly for it to follow.  Finally, the beast lay broken and bleeding upon the ground, and I let the world slip back into normal speed.

Behind me, the sounds of battle were finished.  I grabbed my sword from the beast, and severed its head with one final blow.  It had fought well, and did not deserve to suffer a long death.  I turned back to Silent and Malice, who were wiping the blood from their weapons and replacing them in their scabbards.  I did the same.

So many questions were going through my mind, but I knew we were not in a good place to stop and speak.  I saw that Silent had taken a rather impressive wound to his upper torso, a deep gash stretching from below his right ribs to the top of his left shoulder that was seeping blood freely.  I knew it was not a fatal wound, and that given our kind’s ability to heal, he would be fine.  Malice seemed unharmed, and I too had taken no more than slight scratches in the course of the battle.

“They fight like they know us.”  Malice said, as our group came back together and fell in behind Silent.

“They learn fast, and they've had the advantage of fighting others like us in the past.”  Silent replied.

“Others like us?”  Malice asked.

Silent shook his head.  “Not right now.  First we get out of here.  If we survive that, I'll give you what answers I have to offer.  There is much you need to know, things that happened in the two years after you left the lands of men, and more that has happened in the four years you have spent in the dungeons of. . .”

“Four years?”  I asked incredulously.  I could hardly believe that so much time had passed.  I mean, it had felt that long, longer even, but to have lost so much of my life. . .

A sense of despair fell over me.  My daughter had lived more life without me, than with me.  That was, of course, if my daughter still lived.  I shook my head at that though.  That was something I was not willing to accept.

“Four years.”  Silent said, but he offered no more.  He simply led on through the oppressive murk of the castle.

The passageways changed from familiar to strange as we progressed, with Silent taking exceedingly more obscure routes through the giant stone structure.  Though, for all the twists and turns, my internal senses told me that we were maintaining a consistent direction of travel.

Many times we passed dangerously close to other things moving within the walls of the castle, but we did not encounter the Hungering again on our way to Silent's secret escape route. I suspected that he traveled though lesser used hallways and passages to get us to our destination, but I knew far too little of the castle's layout to be certain.

Our final goal, it seemed, was a small storage closet sealed by a heavy wooden door.  Silent approached the door and withdrew a key he had tucked away somewhere hidden.  In a minute he had thrust the key into the lock and swung back the heavy door to reveal what appeared to be a normal closet full of linens and supplies for the houses cleaning staff, such as straw brushes, and buckets.  It struck me as strange that such a door would have a proper key lock, but other than that, the small room seemed to be exactly what it appeared, a closet.

Silent sheathed his weapon and gestured for Malice and me to enter.   We did, sheathing our weapons also, as between the two of us, there would barely be room for Silent himself to move about once we were all piled into the small space.  Silent followed us in, pulling the door shut, and sealing us in the dark.  I heard the sound of the lock being re-engaged, and then the relatively small Broken Sword was pushing himself between us to get toward the back of the closet.  It was a difficult maneuver, but we managed to change places in the darkness, though Malice and I were pushed tightly together against the door.  I didn't know how she felt about it, but I found myself reminded of how pleasant it could be to be close to my beautiful green-eyed friend.  I decided it was probably best to keep that thought to myself just then.

There was an audible click from the wall in front of us, where Silent was doing something impossible to identify in the dark, and then the sound of stone grinding against stone filled our small chamber.  It was not a loud sound, but louder than any we'd made in a long while, and that made me nervous.  Attracting attention could get us killed.  I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of an attack that did not come.

Silent moved, and suddenly Malice and I had space to separate.  I felt her pull away from me, though she seemed to do so slowly, as if hesitant to end that moment of closeness.  In any other circumstances, I might have reached out and pulled her back.  I had been alone for a long time, and she was welcome company.  Our circumstances, however, did not allow for such comforts.

Malice followed Silent through an opening in the wall at the back of the closet.  I was close behind.  After I stepped past the threshold of the stone entry way, I heard the sound of the stone sliding closed behind me.  It was unnerving to have the door move of its own accord.  We were cast into complete blackness.

The darkness around us was so pure that my eyes could not pick out a single piece of the scenery into which we'd stepped.  Faintly I could see the outlines of Malice and Silent when they moved, a trick my rare eyes could manage whenever there was movement, but the rest of the world was swallowed by a depthless void.  I probed the area with my feet and found that I was on a stairway leading downwards.

I saw Silent reach out a hand, the colored blur of the motion the only thing standing out clearly in my field of vision.  His hand stopped on something, the wall I guessed, and a moment later light began to appear around us.  There was a complex etching of symbols on the walls near us, and at the black-eyed warrior's touch they began glowing in a dull red color.  The effect was eerie, but at least there was enough light for us to see by.  With our Uliona eyes, very little light was necessary.  I noted, bleakly that it seemed the runes were destined to provide the minimal lighting required.

Silent lead us downward.  The stairway did not go far before leveling out into a straight corridor, also completely covered by the strange red runes.  It had an arched ceiling, barely tall enough to clear my head, and the tunnel was not so wide that I could have stretched my arms out to my sides.  We walked in single file down the dreary path for what felt like hours before we reached the end of the tunnel.  It stopped at a small iron portcullis, barely large enough for a single man to fit through.

There was a crank for the gate on our side, and a release for the crank on the opposite side of the gate, but there was no crank on the opposite side.  The gate had been designed to be usable only in one direction.  The area beyond the gate, other than a few feet past the iron bars, was dark.

Silent spun the crank to raise gate until it locked into place, and the way forward was opened.  We all walked through the metal archway and found ourselves in a small room with a blank stone wall facing us.  Suddenly I felt claustrophobic.  With the bars at my back, and the stone wall in front of me, I felt as though I were walking directly back into my prison cell.  Silent hit the release on the gate, and the metal portcullis fell closed behind us, finalizing the illusion.  However, Silent was within the apparent cage with Malice and me, and I doubted that it was the prison it appeared.  Even with that knowledge, I could feel panic welling up within me.

Our black-eyed guide walked into the darkness in front of us, until he reached a point where, if I concentrated, I could just make out the lines of a wall.  Indeed, the runes on the walls of the path down which we'd come were getting dimmer by the second, the darkness around us becoming more complete.

Silent's hands passed over the stone, pressing in different places, and I was reminded of my escape from the villa, after finding Kyeia, six years before.  The wall, I realized, had a similar locking system to the secret passage in the villa.  In fact, the two systems had probably been crafted by the same designer.  Had it been Tyvel?  He'd claimed to have been the designer of the villa.  Was he also the designer of the secret passageway we had just used to escape the castle?

I had accumulated so many questions that I knew I would never be able to speak all of them.  They would take too long to ask, and I doubted if any one person had all the answers.  The most important question, and the one I intended to have from Silent as soon as it was feasible, was “Where is Kaylien?”  It was really the only question that mattered anymore.

The wall before us groaned, and moved aside.  Beyond it, the light was surprisingly bright.  I squinted my eyes, and followed Silent through the new opening.  My vision adjusted quickly, and I saw that we were exiting into a windowless room, lit by four torches with a great fire burning in a hearth.  There was a table in the room, and supplies had been set out, but the room was otherwise deserted.  Distantly, mostly muffled by the walls that surrounded me, I could hear screams, and the sounds of fighting.  I wondered where we were.  It wasn't far from where we'd started, I knew.  The sounds of battle confirmed that.

“We're not safe yet, but we have a few moments.  It's time we talked.”  Silent said.

I merely nodded my agreement.  It was indeed time to talk.

“You should start, since you're obviously the one in the best position to explain what is happening.”  Malice said. Her voice held a rough edge.  She did not trust Silent, and I couldn't blame her.  I didn't trust him either.  He had long been a friend, but the dynamic between us had changed, and it wasn't for the better.

“I was sent by the king to recover you both from the dungeon before the castle fell entirely to the Hungering.  He believes you will be an important asset to us, and that we are better off keeping you alive.”  I could tell by the inflection in his voice, that Silent did not share the king's opinion.  I could only guess as to why Silent seemed to hate me, but I was certain that my guess was close to the truth.  When I had killed Brutal, I had created a chasm between myself and Lucidil's forces.  Silent believed in Lucidil's cause absolutely.

“So you're doing the king's dirty work now?  I'm surprised you can still play that line with how many times you've switched sides over the years.  Certainly your usefulness as a spy is growing thin.”  I said, and though I phrased it harshly, I thought the question apt.  Silent had been a spy for Lucidil for many years, but he had left his post with the king last I'd known.  In doing so, he had given up his cover.

Silent smiled, and it wasn't an altogether pleasant expression.  It was the smile of someone who was in on a secret that could possibly be damaging.

“There is no conflict in me working for both the king and Lucidil.  In fact, there hasn't been a conflict in such a position since they started working together five years ago, and the problem has lessened even more since the old king was killed, and Lucidil was crowned in his place.  King Lucidil, you see, remembers his friends . . . and his enemies.”  The small black-eyed warrior's words were aimed like arrows, and each new revelation struck with resounding force, until his last pointed phrase was nearly a physical blow.

I had not known that the king was working with Lucidil, and it came as an even greater shock that the king had died and Lucidil had taken over in his stead.  What could have happened in the world to bring on such a profound change in politics?  Lucidil and the king had been waging a brutal war, intent upon killing each other.

“How did this all happen?”  I asked, trying not to sound as shocked as I was, but Silent just shook his head.

“After you betrayed us, killing one of Lucidil's most trusted men, and abandoning the cause you'd sworn to fight for, Lucidil was crushed.  I had only recently returned to the camp myself, having nearly died in the frozen ocean before being washed ashore, badly injured.  I went home, eager to report on the creatures that had attacked our boat, expecting to find you and Brutal at the camp.”

Silent shot a look at me that was full of daggers.  “When I heard that you had killed Brutal, I begged to be allowed to dispatch you myself, but Lucidil forbade it.  He called our armies together, and we fell into a slump, trying to determine what our next course of action should be.  At the time, we believed the events at sea were an isolated incident.

“Months passed, and we received word that two more of the dragon ships had been reported.  In both cases port towns were wiped out entirely, and news only arrived by pure luck.  In truth, once a team was sent to investigate, six such towns were found.  Lucidil was worried, but he was too clever to let such a situation pass without taking advantage of it.  He drafted a letter to the king and had it dispatched to the capital.  It wasn't long before we received a reply.  It seemed the king was also worried about the black ships.

“The king met with Lucidil, and together they formed an alliance to fend off the threat from the sea.  They pooled resources, sharing research and forces.  The king, in a last ditch effort to expand his elite fighting force, began the implementation of his Black Patch Brigade.  You've no doubt come to know them quite well.  They wear black cloaks, and are composed mostly of Fell Beast, though they have human volunteers stitched into them, allegedly keeping them in control.  I believe some of them paid a visit to you. . .”

A growl of rage escaped me.  “So it was the king who. . .”  I began, but Silent stopped me.

“No, it wasn't the king.  He didn't care about you one way or the other.  Lucidil says he underestimated your value.  It was Lucidil himself who sent the Black Patch Brigade to your home.”  Silent said, a smile at the corners of his lips.  “Of course, the Black Patches are strictly conditioned so that they can only follow the orders of the king, so we had to slightly break the minds of the ones we were using, so that they would serve us without the king's knowledge.  We heard that they did the most amazing things to the woman you left guarding your daughter.”

I would have struck him, perhaps even killed him, if I had not been so deeply hurt by the callous way which he delivered his message.  Silent had once been my friend, but he now seemed only a twisted caricature of the person I'd known.

“Wisp was a good person.”  I said, rage and sorrow waging a war within me.  From the corner of my eye, I could see Malice's form wound tightly within her cloak.  If Silent wasn't careful, she would kill him before he even knew she was angry.

“Oh yes, I heard from some of the men that she was quite good. . .”  Silent said, a snide laugh following his words.

I exploded forward, ramming the smaller Knight so hard against the wall that the wood crackled.  My right hand held my sword steadily at his throat, my left hand held him pinned against the wall.

“Go ahead, kill me now, and you'll never find out what happened to little Kaylien.”  Silent smiled, though blood was trickling from the corner of his mouth.  The willpower it took me to drop him was phenomenal.  I withdrew my arm, and returned my weapon to its scabbard.  I turned from Silent.

“You were like a brother to me, Silent.  You were my only friend when there was no one else.”  I said softly into the room.  Malice still stood, tensed to strike.

“Perhaps you shouldn't have betrayed us, Noble.  You turned your back on me, and everything that was important to me, long before I turned my back on you.  Whatever happens to you, you deserve it now.  You never cared about anyone but yourself.”  There was no hesitation in his reply.  The rift between Silent and I would never be healed.  I knew that fact with a certainty at that moment.

“Tyvel was working for Lucidil the entire time, then?  . . . A sleeper for the resistance movement?”  I said, after I'd collected myself enough to go on.  I turned back to face the friend who was now my enemy.  I knew the answer already.

“Oh, so you knew about Tyvel's nature?  Yes, he was working for Lucidil.  There were three artifacts made through which Tyvel could maintain his form.  The king had one, you had one, and Lucidil had the third.  The king believed he was in possession of Tyvel's body, and therefore was in control of Tyvel, but Lucidil had stolen the body a generation before.  The king also believed there were only two artifacts, and that you had the other one.  Lucidil was in control the entire time, feeding both you and the king whatever information best suited his agenda.”  Silent explained.

I felt tired.  Despite the fact that I had done little but sleep for years, these new revelations, and the terrible reality they brought with them, weighed heavily upon me.

“What of Lace?”  It was a question I should have asked long ago, for her fate haunted my worst nightmares. I had promised to do Lucidil's bidding in exchange for her freedom from her life as a sex slave.  When I had broken faith with Lucidil, I had forfeited her life.  I wanted to believe Lucidil would not kill the girl, a poor child who'd never done anyone a bit of harm, but I needed to know the truth.

The Broken Sword stared at me blankly for a minute, and then laughed.  “Oh, the whore.  I'd almost forgotten about her.  Lucidil didn't kill her," His smile widened once more, that look of gleeful vengeance lighting it from behind.  He was honestly enjoying the way his words stung.  Hate could do terrible things to a person.  “But he did return her to her previous occupation.  She was a camp whore last time I saw her.”

I bowed my head, feeling defeated.  Lucidil was cuttingly vindictive.  He had taken his revenge for my betrayal, even though it had taken him four years to do so.  I had only one more question to ask.

“Would you take us to Kay, please?”  I asked, my voice as even as I could make it.

Silent's smile did not falter, and there was a terrible sparkle in his eye.  “Of course.”

I heard the sound of metal passing over leather, so slight that my sensitive ears could barely capture the whisper of motion, and I realized that Malice was about to cut Silent down.  I spoke quickly.

“If she's hurt, you understand, I will kill everyone even remotely responsible for her death, Silent.”  I spoke the words firmly, with a conviction born of the heart.  Malice's sword stopped in its path.  Silent's next words would decide his fate.  I would not stay Malice's sword.  I had not the will, nor the want, to stand in her way.

“She is very healthy, Noble.  She has grown into a lovely young lady, happy and well provided for.”  Silent said, with his mocking smile constantly in place.  “She is intelligent, and strong.  Watching her grow up has been wonderful for all of us.”  Malice's sword returned to her scabbard with the barest whisper of a breath.

I breathed deeply, trying to let my tension out with my breath.  Something was not right.  I didn't believe that Silent was lying about Kay's wellbeing, but something was being left unsaid.

“But you shouldn't make threats, Noble.  We know about your heart.  Remember, Tyvel told us everything.  You're living on borrowed time, and with how hard you pushed yourself fighting your way out of the castle, I'm guessing that time is even shorter.”  Silent quipped, his spirits high.  “Lucidil wants you alive, but if your heart were to fail you. . .”  The black-eyed devil shrugged.

I kept my mouth shut.  I didn't know what had happened to my heart, but it had not given me any trouble in a long while, though it still beat with such ferocity in my chest I feared at times that it might try to leap through my ribs.  It always remained constant, however, a beat so steady I could keep time with it.

“Take us to Kay.”  Malice said, her voice cold, dangerous.  It was the voice of the Knights of Ethan's weapon master, an authoritative threat, and it was not to be ignored.

“As you wish.”  Silent replied.

The basement we had entered through the subterranean cave from the castle was part of a small manor house in one of the central districts of Kreo.  The home, if it had ever been well kept, certainly didn't show it any longer.  As we crested the stairway leading up from the basement, we were greeted by the cool breeze of the season.  The part of the building above ground was a devastated collection of walls, no longer holding up the roof that had once set atop them.

That led me to wonder who had prepared the room in the basement with such care, even while the rest of the building was left in shambles, for obviously it had been intentionally readied for our arrival.  That meant there were either others in service to the king within the city, or Silent had made the preparations himself before coming to get us.  I didn't feel like asking our guide at that moment.

My eyes took in the world around me.  It had been four years since I'd laid eyes on Kreo.  Beyond the crumbling walls of the fallen manor, everything looked different.  All of the buildings were devastated, lying in piles, some of them on fire, but none fitting the image of the city I held in my memory.  The sounds of fighting wafted through the streets, carried on every breeze, though no battle was immediately apparent.  A great roar filled the air, and I swung my head around to find its source.  A massive black shadow, too distant to be clear amidst the haze of smoke and dust from fallen city, lumbered through the ruins, larger than most of the buildings it passed by.

“Siege Wyrm.”  Silent said quietly, a strange quavering in his voice.  “They're some form of drake, only larger, terrible.  The Hungering use them as sea craft, and once on land, as siege engines the likes of which you've never seen.  They feed on flesh and wood.”

“How many of them are there?”  I asked, still staring after that huge black shape, almost afraid to see what lay behind the haze of ash and dust.

“Hundreds.  At least, last we knew there were hundreds of them.  We lost all contact with our scouts at the shore weeks ago.  There could be thousands of them now.”  Silent replied, the last of his previously mocking tone gone from his voice.  In the face of such an adversary, it was difficult to feel anything but despair.

“Which way do we travel to escape this place?”  Malice asked, breaking me from my grim considerations.

Silent swung around, looking in all directions, and considered the question.  Whether he was trying to get his bearings, or simply trying to decide which route would be the safest for our escape, I didn't know.  After a time, Silent seemed to settle on a direction.  He moved wordlessly, drawing his sword and making his way through the rubble of the fallen building around us, until we were on the street in front of the remains of the home we'd recently emerged from.

Our progress was slow.  The streets down which Silent led us were small to begin with, and in places the surrounding structures had fallen, closing off our passage entirely.  We were forced to backtrack many times, looking for second, and sometimes even third, routes through an area.  Our black-eyed guide was becoming increasingly agitated as the sun began to falter in the sky.

“They don't like the sun.  Once it's gone, they'll be out in force.”  Silent muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

I had noticed that the volume of fighting around us was increasing.  We had managed to avoid it so far, not even coming within sight of those engaged, but Silent was taking increasingly strange and obscure routes.  We were headed in a general direction, but as the sounds of fighting increased, our path became less clear.  My gaze was constantly drawn to the sky.  The sun was sitting just above the horizon, its lower edge already lying atop the distant hills.  If night was our time limit, that limit was fast approaching.  The city still stretched out far before us.  Silent's circumvent route had made our progress too slow.

“How many of them are still in the city?”  Malice asked from beside me.  She had noted our dilemma as well.

“Most have moved in towards the castle, but even out this far, there are a lot of them.  I don't know where they are during the day, but once night falls, they crawl out of every crevice in this place.”  Silent looked on the verge of panic.  “Getting in to find you both was hard enough, but getting out. . .”

“We need to take a more direct route, Silent.  Stop trying to avoid all the small skirmishes.  Are we not better facing those few, than being here after dark?”  Malice reasoned.

“Yes, that's probably true.”  Silent said, seeming to consider her words carefully.  “A few . . . if we face a few . . . we have to move quickly though.”  He began to walk at a faster pace, and then he broke into a run.   Whether he was simply trying to progress faster, or had descended into a full panic, I couldn't be certain.  Malice and I fell in behind him, neither of us familiar with the city's labyrinth like streets.

Darkness crept closer and closer by the minute, the day fading far more quickly than seemed natural.  Malice and I ran with our swords sheathed, unwilling to take the risk of running blades drawn, but Silent's sword stayed wrapped tightly in his fist as he dashed madly down side streets and alleys.  My normally strong sense of direction was becoming increasingly confused as night descended and we ran through the curving, maze-like streets.

Silent lead us down a small alleyway, and suddenly we found ourselves at a dead end.

“No, no, no, no. . .”  Silent rambled quietly to himself, pressing against the wall, tracing it from side to side.  “This shouldn't be here.  This path should run to the north side of. . .”  He turned to face us, accusingly.  “We're all turned around because you made me change directions.”  He shot venomously.

I did not deem to answer the panicked Broken Sword.  Malice, on the other hand, didn't bother to keep her opinion to herself.

“You are not keeping yourself detached.  You're afraid, and it's affecting your actions.  It is not Lowin and I who have gotten us lost.  We have followed you.  You need to bite back your fear, and figure out where we need to go, and you need to do it now.”  Her voice was calm, but I could hear the edge of anger underlying her words.

“You don't understand!”  Silent shouted, his voice echoing through the area around us with alarming loudness.  His outburst seemed to frighten him.  His attention darted around; looking for some attacker that he seemed to fear lurked just over his shoulder.

“You don't understand.”  He repeated again, more quietly, once he seemed convinced that that walls were not about to descend upon us.  “They don't just kill you.  The Hungering . . . they eat you.  They will eat us, while we're still alive.”  He virtually spat the last words in a harsh whisper.  “We have to get out of here now.”

His words did not come as a surprise to me.  Though I'd never really seen the creatures feast on flesh, I had always suspected that they possessed a more horrific underlying nature. They were the sort of creatures that could only come from nightmares, and such was the way of demons of dark dreams.  I was frightened, maybe even as much as Silent, but I held that fear in check.  Like Malice had indicated, we served ourselves best by keeping our minds clear.  Letting our fear guide us, could only lead us to our deaths.

A squealing howl sounded from somewhere nearby, followed by five more from other areas.  I drew steel, and Malice followed suit.  The time for sheathed swords was passed.  We would need to fight if we were to survive.

“It's more of those monsters from the castle.”  Malice said.  “The six legged beasts.  How do they track?”  The last she said to Silent.

The black-eyed warrior was visibly shaking, his sword point down.  “They can smell us.  They can trace the scent of Knights over great distances.  That's their purpose.  The squads they lead have been trained to fight us.  I've seen many men fall in the face of their onslaught.”  His clawed hand, wrapped so tightly about his sword hilt, was shaking violently.  I felt pity for my lost friend.  He had changed in the years since I'd known him, and seemed a shell of the warrior I had once known.  What, I wondered, had happened around him to make him so emotionally scarred?

“We will make it out of this city alive.”  I said confidently.  I believed those words.  It had been four years, but I was finally going to see Kay again, if I could just survive long enough to escape the city.  I had no intention of dying.

“We will?”  Silent asked, and there was a manic edge to his voice.  “We will escape this city that has killed more than half of the Knights of Ethan, and even more of the Broken Swords?”  His voice was escalating.  “Malice and I, and our crippled companion, whose heart barely supports a run, are going to escape from this pit of death?” He was nearly yelling.  “How are we going to do that, Lowin?”  Once more, he seemed to hear his own yelling voice, and he glanced around in fear.

“I've had four years to rest and heal.  I may not be as strong as I was at my best, but I'm more than capable of fighting.”  I answered, unable to keep the agitation from my voice.  I did not intend to tell Silent that I felt stronger than I ever had.  Since my heart had begun to pound like a drum in my chest, I had felt invigorated, as though I were nearly unstoppable.  I made a point of restraining that feeling as much as possible, for I doubted it was accurate, but for some reason my heart seemed to have healed better than it had been before.  Apparently I had discovered a way, other than getting a Kaziem Wolf heart, to strengthen myself.

“I was just supposed to sneak in, and back out.  It was going to be easy.  There were four of us.”  He looked at me accusingly.  “Four loyal Knights came with me, Lowin, because Lucidil swears that you are still important.  The other three died, and I barely escaped with my life.  Three more lives lost so that you, who have betrayed our cause, can continue to. . .”

Malice's voice broke across Silent's.  “This is not the time to argue, and certainly not the time hold grudges.  We need to find a defensible location, and we need to settle in and try to last until morning.  Traveling has become too dangerous, and I guess it will only become worse as night falls around us.”  She didn't wait for a reply.  She turned on her heels and started back tracking down the alleyway.  I fell in behind her, and finally Silent fell in after me.

Malice seemed to have a goal in mind, and I was more than happy to let her take the lead.  Of all of us, she seemed the most calm and collected, though I wasn't certain if she was, or if it only seemed that way since Silent was a mess, and I knew how afraid I felt.  What terrified me far more than the Hungering was the prospect that I might never see my daughter again if I was unable to make it safely from the city.

Malice traced our route back to what appeared to be a damaged inn.  The building was relatively intact, at least on the first floor.  The door was still securely fastened when she tried the handle.

“This will do.”  She said, whether to herself or Silent and me, I was unsure.   Without another word she returned her sword to her scabbard and sprang upward, grabbing a handhold on a ledge above her head.  She pulled herself up the wall with a vigorous grace and dexterity, moving upward almost as nimbly as most people could cover flat ground.  As soon as she was clear, I jumped up and followed suit.  I did my best to match my movements with those that Malice had used, but I did not climb as easily as she.

Malice ascended into a small hole torn into the wall of the third floor just as another howl sounded, far closer than the last we'd heard.  Multiple other voices raised in answer to the first, even more than had done so at the first howl.  I looked down, and saw that Silent was still standing on the ground, his sword drawn.  I almost expected to see one of the six legged creatures like the one I'd encountered in the castle come running out of an alley to attack the stunned Knight.  Thankfully, it did not happen.

“Silent, you need to move.  They're getting closer.”  I called down, trying my best to keep my voice low.  This seemed to get him into motion.  He put his sword away and began to scramble up the wall behind me.  He stumbled multiple times, and slipped more than once, but he was moving.  I followed Malice's path across the inn's face, across the sign that read, “Traveler's Stew Pot,” and through the gap in the wall that Malice had entered.  Silent fell through the crack not long after me, drawing his sword the moment his hands were free again, and holding it in front of him like the room itself might attack.

Malice was looking around our new surroundings.  It was a large room, with a single massive bed in the middle.  There was plenty of space for the three of us to fight in if we needed to, and the only entrances were the crack in the wall we'd come through, and the door that I guessed lead out into the hallway.  Malice was taking this all into consideration as well.

“We could make a stand here, or we could check the other rooms to see if one of them might make a better place to hide out the night.”  She said after a short time.  “This room has two easy ways in, another room might provide only one avenue to defend, but might also trap us if that avenue became jammed with enemies.”

I nodded my head.  It hadn't occurred to me that a room with only one entrance meant that it also only had one exit if we needed to leave in a hurry.  Something heavy moved downstairs, what sounded like a piece of furniture being dragged across the floor, and Silent started violently, swinging his sword around so fast he nearly clipped Malice's back.

“Sheath your weapon, Silent, and get a hold of yourself.”  She said, anger evident in her voice.  “You are the greatest risk to our survival right now, not them.”  She pointed out the crack in the wall through which we'd squeezed.

Silent seemed to hear her, and, at least to some extent, took her words seriously.  He sheathed his weapon, though his face remained pale and drawn, and his hands still shook.  He had been worried about how useful I would be in a fight, but I had the same doubts about him.  He was unsteady, and growing more so by the minute.  Knights of Ethan were supposed to be hardened to the stresses of war, but Silent was not holding up well.

Silent, though, had never been a typical Knight.  When all others had been distant and mean, treating me as an outsider, Silent had gone out of his way to show me kindness.  He had been a friend in times when there were far too few of those.  What a difference my six years away from him had made. Of course, Lucidil had primarily used him as a spy.  Maybe the leader of the Broken Swords, the man now crowned king, had known exactly how Silent would hold up under the stresses of war and placed him in a position of less intense fighting.

“We need to find out what is downstairs.”  I said quietly.  “If there is a threat already in the building with us, we need to take it out quickly, lest it come upon us unprepared.”

Malice nodded her head in approval.  “Silent, you stay up here.  You should be safe so long as whatever is downstairs cannot get through Lowin and me.”

He nodded a numb reply before walking over to one of the beds and falling heavily upon it.  He did not close his eyes, but lay staring up at the cracked and worn ceiling above us.  Malice and I walked to the door that we knew would lead out into the corridors beyond, drawing our swords as we went.

Malice pushed the door and it swung open, for it had no latch and was not boarded closed.  She gestured me through.  I walked out into the darkness of the hallway, sword ready.  There was a window at the far end, but the light coming in through that opening was lessening quickly.  Soon it would be full night.  I heard the door shut, and suddenly Malice was on me, her body pressing against mine, her finger crossing my lips, warning me to hold my tongue.  I started, thinking something was wrong, but Malice's finger left my lips and was replaced by her soft warm lips.

“By my sword, by my still beating heart, I am glad you are alive, Lowin.” She whispered as our lips parted.  “They kept telling me that if I condemned you to your death I could have my place back amongst the Knights.  I refused them every day for what must have been a year, and then they came and told me you were dead.  They said the king had decided to behead you, and all I must do to get my place back amidst the Knights was be willing to hack apart your body so that it could be split and buried in dishonor.  I refused them again, and they stopped coming for me.  Until Silent released me from my cell, I believed that you were dead.  I was . . . it was . . .” Her words faded.

I didn't know what to say, or how to respond, so I simply used my free hand to hold my green-eyed friend close.  I had not been told she was dead, but I had feared for her, and longed for her company every moment of my dark imprisonment.  Luckily, I did not need to find more fitting words, because Malice had more to say.

“We must make this quick, because I do not know what is below us, but you need to know this.  You have the Kaziem Wolf heart, Lowin.  Whisper of the Mist gave it to you, after she had you downed and the battle was over.  It was her choice of flesh, and she chose to give her heart to you.  She said that I should tell you, 'The fire will consume everything, and you will be lost deep within the forest.  If you cannot find the rain, we will all be devoured by the burning tide.'  After that, she made me perform the rite.”

When you awoke, I couldn't tell you.  Tyvel was always with us, and I didn't want him giving away the secret.  After that we were imprisoned separately, and I knew that you would remain locked away thinking you had failed.”

I was stunned.  I was so shocked that I couldn't begin to gather my thoughts together.  “But I hurt so much afterwards, and could barely walk for weeks.  I could feel the weakness.”  I whispered.

“That was your body adjusting to the new heart.  It takes time, and I knew you would be weak.  That's what allowed the deception to work.  I'm sorry Lowin, that I kept the truth from you for so long.  At the time I did not believe it would be necessary to deceive you for so long.  I had intended to tell you when Tyvel was not around, but everything happened too quickly. . .”  There was a look of pain in Malice's eyes as she spoke.  Lying to me had been difficult for her, and knowing that I had suffered for her deception hurt her even more.  She was looking to me for recrimination.

I had none to give her.  For all that I had suffered thinking that I would be forever weakened, I could not hold what had been a sound decision against her.  Knowing the truth would not have changed the events that occurred, and for some reason I couldn't begin to feel any resentment towards her.

“I am not angry with you.  I understand why you did what you did, and it is still working to our advantage.  Silent believes that I am injured and useless, and that means Lucidil does as well.  That is to our favor.  Besides, you are the only friend I've had who has stayed with me through all the trouble.  You've always been there when I needed help, no matter what it cost you.  I cannot ever forget that.  You gave up your life, and a good position amidst the Knights, to help me.”   I clasped her tightly to me, and then released her.  We pulled away from each other, knowing that it was not the proper time for any more discussion.  We were still in a hostile situation.

As if to emphasize that, the heavy dragging sounded from below us again.  It seemed to be coming from the ground floor.  Malice took the lead, moving silently across the wood planking, her shifting cloak helping her to remain indistinct in the darkness of the inn.  We made our way to the stairs, and began the descent, watching over the banister for whatever might lurk in the darkness below.

Kyeia died to make me stronger.  Whisper of the Mist died to make me stronger.  Wisp died to protect my child's life.  Malice had put her life on the line time and time again for my benefit.  These were important people.  These were people to whom I owed my life, and my purpose.  It was time, I knew, to start being the man that they needed me to be.

I followed Malice into the unknown depths below.

Every step further into the dark reaches of the lower floors of the Traveler's Stew Pot held a certain sense of dread.  The Hungering were a terrifying foe, for they were unlike anything we'd ever seen before, and now that we knew they were flesh eaters, it gave them an aura of menace.  It was far too easy to see the creatures as mere monsters, boundless killing machines who thought of nothing but murder and mayhem.  I had, however, come to see the world in a different light over the years.

Even the Shao Geok, creatures which I had initially feared, had turned out to be beasts with hidden intelligence and even a society of their own.  Their beliefs had been different than mine, as well as their motivations, but they had not been merely the monsters I had perceived them to be.  Were the Hungering the same?  Were they just another society doing what they needed to do in order to survive and prosper in our world?

It was more than merely difficult to see them in such a light.  The Hungering were so fearsome, and so terrifying of nature, that I could not make myself believe they had a benign origin.  I would not allow myself to completely discard the possibility, but at the same time I was inclined to believe the worst of the flesh eating creatures that I had fought on two separate occasions.

A faint murmur of sound passed up the stairway.  I cocked my head, turning my ears to better catch the sound.  As I stopped in place to do so, Malice also came to a halt, aware that I was no longer following her.  She crept quietly back up the few stairs she had just descended, and watched me with her intense green eyes.  I concentrated on the sound.  We were still two levels up from the ground floor, but I could make out the familiar patterns of human whispering.  Our distance made it impossible to make out what was being said, but I had at least identified that it was not the Hungering that lay in wait below.  I moved in close to Malice, and whispered what I had heard, quietly, so that only she might hear my voice.  She nodded, and we both returned our weapons to our scabbards.

We needed to identify those downstairs, but it would have been against our best interests to terrify them by approaching with weapons drawn.  We proceeded further, and Malice began to walk with a heavier gait, intentionally making noise on the well-worn steps.  The noise below stopped immediately, all whispers cutting off as though their source had been eliminated.  A breath's width later I heard the sound of steel being drawn from leather, and then complete silence.

Whoever they were, they were armed, and they were ready for whatever might be coming their way, or at least as ready as they could make themselves.  We began our descent of the last set of stairs.  The moment we were able to clearly see the first floor, it became obvious what the loud dragging sound had been that had first indicated to us that someone else was in the building.  Most of the inn's furniture had been dragged to block the doors and windows of the building, so that no opening was easily accessible.  The room held more people than I would have thought from the amount of whispering I'd heard.  My initial count brought twelve, but on a second glance I noticed that a few of the tables that were still upright and not against a door or window, had figures huddled beneath them.  My final count was sixteen.

Ten of these figures held some form of makeshift weapon, though only three of those held swords, and only one of those held a sword as though they had any familiarity with the weapon.   The other six figures appeared to be a woman, a frail looking elderly man, and four children.  I took all of this in before we'd even descended half way down the dark stairs.  The figures waiting below us, weapons at the ready, could not see us in the murk of the room, not with their windows covered, blocking out the last rays of nearly faded sunlight.  It was only with the night vision supplied to us by our peculiar eyes that Malice and I were able to see them.

As the first of the ragged collection of humans spotted our shifting shapes coming down the stairs, a voice called out quietly, “Black-Eyed Devils, two of them.”

Another voice answered, coming from the man holding the sword with some familiarity.  “That's impossible.  King Lucidil ordered them all out of the city two days ago.”

Malice lead the way down the rest of the steps until we both stood in front of the crowd of armed men, our cloaks up, but our postures indicating that we were not going to attack.  Of course, we didn't need to be in a stance of readiness since we could draw our weapon and kill before anyone in the room could bring a blade to bear.  Whether the others in the room understood that, I couldn't be certain.

“Who is in charge here?”  Malice asked, her voice quiet, but tinged with the authority it held when she wanted to be sure she was heard and answered.

The man who held his sword with some confidence stepped forward.  I noticed then, for the first time, that the other two with swords both held weapons of cheap crafting, blades that had been mass produced for common footmen.  One of the weapons even appeared to be tinged with rust.  It was obvious that those around us were not fighting men, but they all held defiant stances, their makeshift weapons - rakes, hoes and scythes - were all held with conviction.  I could not fault their heart. Having fought the Hungering, though, I guessed they stood little chance of holding out for long if things came to fighting.

“I am in charge of this group.”  The man that displayed some sword discipline said boldly.  He stood ready, as though we might attack him at any moment.

“Why did you, and the rest of these people, not leave the city when the king ordered the evacuation?”  Malice asked.  She did not know for certain that the king had ordered an evacuation, and was - I knew - basing her words on her own intuition.

The man in charge let his sword point lower slightly, seeming to have made some decision, at least internally, about Malice and me.  “I am a knight, Mer'am.”  He began, using the formal way to address a female Knight.  It was a form of title very rarely used.  “I was ordered to stay behind and help those late in evacuating the city.  The Hungering came upon us while we were still trying to get people beyond the walls, and I could not leave them behind.  I stayed to help, along with five other knights.  They have fallen.  I am all that remains, but I will not abandon these people.”

Malice nodded her head.  “Such is proper for a knight of the king.  Should you survive this, there will likely be a medal of valor waiting for you.”

The man shrugged with indifference.  “I didn't do this for a medal, Mer'am. I did this because it was the right thing to do.”  He paused for a moment, obviously debating over whether or not to speak the question that was on the tip of his tongue.  I knew what it would be before he asked it.  “Might I inquire as to why you are still within the city?  The king ordered all Knights of Ethan from the walls two days ago.”

It was a fair question, and the man was brave for asking it.  Most men feared the Knights of Ethan.  I left the question to Malice, since I did not know how to answer it, and it was common among the Knights to allow the most senior officer (though no official ranking system existed) to do the talking, or at least so I had noticed in my time amongst them.

“We were on a private task that kept us longer than anticipated.  We are currently making our way beyond the city walls to meet up with the king and his men.”  Malice replied, not offering any more details.

“How did you get inside the inn?”  A voice asked.  It came from a man holding a garden rake.

“There is a crack in the wall above.  It opens into a room on the third floor.”  Malice said.  “We climbed in, looking for a place to shelter for the night.  The Hungering are scouting this area of the city.  What is your name?”  She asked, pointing her question at the knight who stood before us.

“I am Sir Liet, of the Gray Mount Division.”  He responded, bowing formally as he gave his designation.  He returned his sword to his scabbard afterwards, and the others in the room seemed to relax to some extent.

“Will the hole in the wall upstairs allow others through?”  Liet asked.

“It is a possibility, but it is not likely.  Very few can climb as well as the Knights of Ethan, and only those looking for a place to shelter would even consider it as something to investigate.  However, we left a man upstairs, guarding our entry, in the event of such an intrusion.”  Malice left out the part about Silent being unstable and potentially dangerous, which I felt was probably for the better.

“I ain't never had nothing good to say about you Black-Eyed Devils, but if you'll help us get out of here alive, I'll sing your praise for the rest of my days, Missus Knight.”  The man with the rake spoke again, stepping forward, and bowing to one knee in front of Malice.

“Railan, don't do that!”  Liet snapped at the other man, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to his feet.  “It's a crime to interfere with the business of the Knights of Ethan, you know that!”

Railan stood again, his eyes looked tired, and he looked worn.  “We aren't going to make it outta' here on our own, Mr. Liet.  We need them.  The king tells us his black-eyed Knights are here to help us.”  He turned to address Malice again.  “Won't you do so now?”

Liet bowed deeply at Malice and me.  “I apologize for Railan. He doesn't understand how things work in the kingdom.  He means no offense.”

“He gave no offense.”  Malice said, her words immediately diffusing the situation, as both Liet and Railan seemed to relax.  “I can make no promises, but we will do what is in our power to get those who wish to travel with us free from this city.  However, there is risk in traveling the streets, and it might be more dangerous for you to travel with us than to remain holed up here.”

To my surprise, it was Liet who answered, and not Railan.  “Mer'am, we might last here another day or two, but it's only a matter of time before they find us, and kill us.  If you can get us out of here, or even give us a hope of getting out of here, we will follow you.”

It wasn't until that point that I realized just how desperate the people in the common room of the inn really were.  They feared the Black-Eyed Devils, as they called us, but they feared the Hungering far more.  As Liet had pointed out, asking for things from the Knights of Ethan could get you in a lot of trouble, especially if it interfered with a mission in progress.  That Railan had done so with such vigor only served to demonstrate the direness of the situation.

“So be it.”  Malice said.  “In the morning we will leave here together.  We must discuss this with our third companion.  Keep watch here.  If anything happens, we are on the third floor, in a room toward the end of the hall.  I am Malice, and my companions are Noble and Silent.  Knock once and ask for Noble or myself if you need to talk to us.  Once preparations are made, we will inform of you of what is to happen next.”  She listed her orders calmly, and with an authority born from her service to the Knights, before turning and starting back up the stairs.  I fell in behind her, leaving no room for questions.  It was a cold way to deal with the situation, but it was what was expected from the Knights of Ethan.

I agreed with my friend's choice to help the people in the inn, but I worried what Silent might have to say.  He wasn't thinking rationally.  Malice may have just agreed us to a course of action that would bring us into direct conflict with our paranoid travel companion, and whether we liked it or not, we still needed Silent to take us to where Kaylien was kept.

We made the return trip to the room in silence.  Malice did not speak to me, and I was too anxious at the prospect of what Silent might do when we told him that we were taking on the humans below to create any conversation myself.  There were many things Malice and I still needed to discuss, but everything had its time, and I knew that time was not yet upon us.

We re-entered the room to find Silent lying exactly as we'd left him, sprawled on the bed and staring blankly at the ceiling.  Whether he was aware of the fact that we'd gone and come back I couldn't be certain, as his eyes seemed to be tracing empty paths across the woodwork above the bed.  I found his trance-like state both disheartening and disturbing.  There was an unnerving aspect to his display of mental unraveling.

“Silent.”  Malice called the black-eyed warriors name.  He slowly turned his head to the side and stared at us without answering.

“There are a group of people gathered downstairs.  They've been trying to escape the city, and need our help to get out alive.  I've agreed to help guide them out.”  She did not give him the chance to voice his own opinion on the matter, simply stated that she had made a decision, and he was being informed of it.  I watched his face for the adverse reaction I felt certain would come.

His expression was completely blank, a vapid emptiness that sent a chill down my spine.  “That is a good idea.  Are there many?”  His voice was relaxed, almost relieved.

“There are nearly a score.”  Malice answered, and I could tell by the timbre of her voice that the ease of our negotiations was striking her as odd as well.  “Why?”

“A knight's first service is to his king. His second service is to the king's people.”  Silent recited a line from the knight's code of ethics.  “It wouldn't be right to leave these people helpless.”  His face was blank, and his tone dispassionate.

“Silent, if you hurt those people. . .”  Malice began, but Silent broke in over her words.

“I will not lay a finger on them, Malice.”  He said, anger tinting his voice, the first sign of emotion from him since we'd re-entered the room.  He pushed himself up from the bed, coming to his feet, hand on the hilt of his weapon.  “Do you think me a monster?  They are the king's people, and I am loyal to my king.”

I sensed that his words were only a portion of the truth, and I could tell by Malice's face that she was thinking much along the same lines.  Silent was not telling us everything that was going on in his mind.  What worried me most was what that might mean for the people who were trusting in us to save their lives, a task which would be difficult under the best of circumstances.  Without Silent's cooperation, we could wind up in a situation from which none of us would be able to survive.  His words seemed to indicate that he would help, but his attitude, his strange blankness, worried me.

“Remember your words, Silent.”  I said, stepping forward to speak.  “The king's people are second only to the king.  While they are under our care we must do everything in our power to assure their safety.  It stands to reason that their safety might well contribute to our own.  The more eyes we have to watch, the more ears to listen, the better our chances of survival.”  I tried to hammer home the importance of the lives we would be guarding, making them seem not only important for their own sake, which should have been enough, but also for our own, which I hoped would encourage more help from the difficult-to-read warrior.

Silent looked at me, but he said nothing.  Beneath his eyes I could almost hear his churning thoughts.

The sound of footfalls hammering up the stairs grabbed my attention, and I turned my head, breaking my focus on Silent, though I did see his hand, already on his sword hilt, tighten about the leather binding.  The sound of a fist resounding against wood echoed down the hallway.  It was still a few doors down from the room in which we were currently sitting.

“Malice, Noble!”  A voice yelled.  “They're coming.  The Hungering are coming!”

All three of our swords left our scabbards in one smooth motion, and Malice turned back to the door, opening it into the hallway.  The man, Liet, nearly ran into the door in the dark hallway.  He scrambled around it, bowing half-heartedly.

“Mer'am, Seir'ir, Seir'ir,” he addressed each of us in the formal manner, nearly stumbling over the archaic titles in his haste to get to his point.  “Our lookouts have spotted two hunting parties circling the inn.  They tried the door several times, but when it wouldn't open they began to circle the building.  They have their six-legged tracking beasts with them.  I think they know that we're in here.”

Liet, who I had taken to be much older when he was standing firm and leading his group, I now realized was probably younger than I was, though not younger than I appeared, having not aged a day since I'd become a Knight of Ethan.

“Return to your people.  We'll hold the lower floor.  Make sure those who cannot fight are in the center of those who can.”  Malice issued her commands in a firm, but calm voice.

“Yes, Mer'am.”  Liet, the young knight, bowed only slightly before turning and running out the door through which he'd just entered.

“We'll need to split our forces.”  Malice said as she turned back to face Silent and me.  “There are only three of us, and we can't be everywhere at once.  Our best hope is to form a triangle around those who are defenseless and to work to actively push back any enemies as they come in.  Don't let yourself be drawn away from those you're defending.  Only worry about the enemies that approach you.”

“They might just leave . . . just… not attack. Maybe they haven't figured out we're here yet?”  Silent said, the nervous look that had at least momentarily, left his eyes was returning.

“It would be suicide to count on that.”  Malice snapped.  “We need to act as though it's just a matter of time before we're attacked.  We don't want to be caught unprepared.”

Silent said nothing, but his face looked grim.

Seeing Silent's bleak face spurred me to speak.  “We are holding a point.  That gives us the advantage.  We have people to back us up as well.  They might not be skilled fighters, but they can take advantage of the distractions provided by our fighting to score hits.  We are not dead yet.”

If my words had any effect on the black-eyed warrior, his facial expression did not reflect it.  He looked as though he were condemned to death already.  My anger boiled up inside me, and before I could even check the impulse, I flashed across the room and slammed my fist into the side of Silent's face with explosive force.  The other Knight flew backwards, landing half on, and half off, of the bed.

He jumped up, anger burning across his features, his sword coming up into an offensive posture.

“You are a warrior, and a Knight, Silent.  Stop sulking and start acting like it.  Do you think Lucidil would be proud of one of his men giving up so easily?”  My voice was quiet, but it simmered with pent up anger.

Silent's sword point dropped.  “I have seen what they do to us, Noble.  I've seen the things they. . .”

“. . . the things they are not going to do to us, Silent.  I am not going to die here, and if I can help it, no one else is either.  Do you understand?”  I cut across his words.

Silent looked at me, and for a moment a slight smile, an honest one, the first I'd seen from him since exiting my prison cell, touched his lips.  “. . . a noble fool.”  He said softly.

“If you two are done, there are scared people below who are waiting for us, and time is slipping away.”  Malice said, breaking whatever peace may have existed in that moment.  Silent's face hardened again, any remnant of good cheer fading, but his manic fear did not seem to return entirely.

Silent walked towards the door to the room.  He stopped just before exiting into the hall beyond.  “You should never have betrayed us, Noble.”  He said, and then he left the room, and I heard his footsteps walking down the hall, the soft pad followed by the click of a clawed foot.

“Come on.”  Malice said, gesturing for me to follow her.  I did, and we departed the room together.  Silent's last words loomed over me, a black cloud across an already troubled sky.

Downstairs the knight and his collection of armed farmers were packed tightly together around the children, the elderly man, and the woman who was tending the children.  She held a young boy close to her chest, silencing his fearful sobbing.  My eyes fixated on the children and unarmed adults, and I realized I held them in a kind of awe.  They represented a life I had long ago left behind, and an existence I would never be able to return to.  When I looked at them I thought to myself, “These are humans, living their lives.” and I realized that, for the first time, I was not counting myself one of them.  In my heart, I felt that I was no longer human.  Certainly when they looked back at me, their eyes heavy with fear, they did not see a human staring at them, but a monster from some fairy tale.

A loud crash sounded from somewhere around the inn's perimeter.  I couldn't exactly identify the direction, but I turned my head, trying to get a fix on the sound.  The Hungering were coming.

“Spread yourselves out further.  You'll kill each other if you stand that close.  Keep your distance from the enemy unless absolutely necessary.  We'll do the brunt of the fighting.  If you see a place where you can strike without getting killed, don't hesitate to do it.”  Malice called out her orders in a whisper, but with a tone that denied dissension.  She turned to Silent and me.

“Silent, you take the left, near the front entrance.  Noble,” I noted that she only used my Lucidil given name in public situations, probably in order maintain the illusion that we were just Knights of Ethan like all the others.  I rarely used it myself; it had never suited me, for it seemed to me that my actions had never been made in nobility, but always out of necessity.  “You take the right, near the stairs.  I'll defend this side.”

Our orders given, we split up, placing ourselves well out in front of those we were to defend.  Laouna.  Malice's real name, the one she'd been given at birth, floated through my memories.  I had never spoken that name out of fear that I might offend my green-eyed companion by doing so, but every time I looked at her the word whispered across my mind.  It was a pretty name.  It was a human name, with none of the connotations carried by the blunt names given to us as Knights of Ethan.  I was struck by a sudden impulse to say Malice's real name aloud.  I resisted the urge, knowing it would be foolish to speak it then, when danger pressed in from all sides.  Someday, though, I promised myself, when everything was safe, and I could just be Lowin, and she could just be Laouna, I would use her real name.

The waiting dragged on.  I knew that the Hungering were coming, but I didn't know from where, and I didn't know when they would choose to strike.  Waiting for a battle is often times more difficult than the battle itself.  No amount of training, and no amount of experience, can ever erase the uncertainty that exists directly before a confrontation in which one's life is at stake.

A tremendous crash sounded, followed by the screams of children, and chaos erupted in the Traveler's Stew Pot.  The wall nearest the stairs collapsed, and the Hungering began to pour through, climbing over the rubble like insects fleeing a flooding ship.  Their ghastly skin and burning red eyes gave them the look of the dead reanimated by pure malice, crawling up from graves.  Another crash came from behind me, accompanied by more screams, and I knew that they had broken through at another location as well.   The fight was on, and we would have to survive until dawn.

I waited for them to come, holding formation, but I didn't need to wait long.  They swept in like a tide, and I flashed into action.  My heart thrummed like a hammer-fall in my chest, resounding with the energy I now knew could only come from my Kaziem heart, the last legacy of Whisper of the Mist.  The Hungering had not known we were inside the building, and had not come prepared.  Silent, Malice and I fell on them like a wave of death, our blades washing their lives away like a morning tide’s ebb.

Through the syrupy slow world, the Hungering barely moved.  There were many of them, but they could not break the line we formed with our blistering speed and adept sword skills.  For a time it seemed we would press them back with no trouble, but our luck was not to hold.  The first wave went down, and we barely had time to catch our breath before the second came barreling in.  They came in first with their six legged monsters, and I knew immediately that we would have trouble.

Those creatures were fast, and dangerous.  They charged us, rising up on their hind legs and slashing with their dangerous forelimbs.  I was forced to fight sword and claw, using both to fend off attacks and make counter attacks. Even then, with all my skill and power at work, the creature had a distinct advantage in the sheer number of fast moving weapons provided by its many legs.  A guttural gurgle sounded from behind me, different from those made by the Hungering and their monsters, and I knew that one of our numbers was down.  I didn't know if it was a Knight, or one Liet's men, or even Liet himself.  The only thing I was certain of was that it signaled our line had been breached.

I concentrated my effort, forcing my body to move faster, and strike harder.  My heart still beat steadily, though sweat was forming on my skin, and I could feel the heat of my flesh rising.  The beast I was fighting snapped its terrible jaws at me, and I dodged backwards, and an instant later propelled myself forward, charging blade first at its body.

The attack took the beast by surprise, and my sword tip struck flesh.  The creature fell in a writhing pile of blood, rage, and gnashing jaws, thrashing until the last of its life fled it.  This I noticed only peripherally, for I had already moved on to my next target.

The bodies piled high, the Hungering falling in droves.  Multiple times voices called out in pain and terror, but there was no pausing in the battle to check on the dead and wounded.  The fight had to continue, the sword must be lifted, and it must fall, without breaking pace.  We were the wall of death, the final hope of the defenseless.

The burning of dawn's first rays of light swept across the ground, coming in through the hole that had, until that moment, only brought more and more of the Hungering.  Those creatures still alive who were touched by the light fell away, not necessarily hurt, but discomforted, distracted by those glorious rays of crystalline beauty.  They began to retreat, scampering out into the dazzling brilliance, and disappearing down side streets.  It did not happen all at once, and the battle remained fierce for what I guessed to be another hour, but finally only dead enemies lay around us, and I could, for the first time in the entire night, look around myself and see what remained of our party.

The sight before me was terrible.  Liet still stood, though his right arm was mostly destroyed, hanging in bloody tatters at his side.  Silent lay in a pool of blood, his chest rising and falling raggedly.  Railan, the old man, had fallen and would not rise again, torn to pieces, his bottom half missing entirely.  I guessed, though I didn't wish to think about it, that it had been taken away for eating by the Hungering.  Of those men who'd been fighting, only one besides Liet remained alive.  He was a young farmer, his ichor-covered pitchfork still in hand.  He had several wounds, though none that looked fatal.  His eyes were wide, haunted.

The old man was dead, lying with his head split open just a few feet from the inner defensive circle.  The woman was still alive, along with three of the children. The fourth was mostly gone, though three quarters of an arm still remained, laying just beyond where the old man's body sprawled.  I guessed that he had died trying to save the child.  Never before had the horrors of battle seemed so visceral and real.  Only Malice and I stood relatively unharmed.  She had not a scratch on her, though her face was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes.  She had pushed herself to her limits.

I was scratched, cut and bruised, though I had taken no serious injuries in the night of fighting.  I guessed I looked much as she did, for I felt feverish and tired, worn thin.  I, too, was at my limits.  I had fought, staying deep within the throes of full speed, for most of the night.

“We need to get out of this city before dark.”  Malice said, her voice a rasp.

I simply nodded my agreement, too stricken and exhausted to say anything more.  The enemy was gone, but rest would have to wait.

Silent slipped in and out of consciousness, riding upon my back as we traveled.  His wounds were severe, possibly fatal if he'd not been blessed with the healing abilities of the Knights.  However, he'd lost a lot of blood.  As such, he was useless for giving directions, but luckily we had Liet.  His tattered right arm was causing him a great deal of agony, but we had cleaned and treated the wound and he was at least able to keep moving, though he was obviously tired.  We were all tired.

Malice was carrying all three of the children, one on her back, and one in each arm.  They had been frightened of her at first, but after a few minutes of walking through the city, they had settled down to sleep, too tired to worry about the strange, green-eyed woman who would be watching over them.  The woman, Reana, stayed close to Malice and the children, distrustful of us despite all we had done.  I did not blame her.  It was difficult to trust anyone, let alone we who looked little better than the monsters they were running from.  Where I saw Malice as a beautiful woman, they saw a grim warrior, with the arms and legs of a beast known for killing and eating men.

Liet the Knight, Reana the midwife, Timro the Farmer, and Gaivin, Sheana and Everis, the children.  Those were all who remained of the original party of forty that had first formed, according to Liet.  Six children dead, and 38 adults, though we'd only known the 16 who remained when we met them in the inn.  None of the children had parents anymore, and none of the adults had families.  I looked from stark face, to stark face, allowing myself to fully understand what was represented by the threat of the Hungering.  Each set of eyes told a story, each scar and bruise held a deep meaning.

I had encountered bad people many times in the world, and people who'd made decisions for the wrong reasons, but the Hungering were the first group I'd ever encountered that seemed bent on such malicious destruction.  They cared not whether they killed man, woman, or child, as long as it was meat to feed their masses.  They did not seek to conquer and acquire, but to destroy and feast.

Liet walked up next to me.  “We were lucky last night.”  His voice was pitched low.  “They didn't send any of the spell casters.  They probably would have if we'd stayed another night.”

“Spell casters?”  I asked, remembering the time I'd sailed the ocean and come across the scout boat of Hungering, with its sails filled with blue energy.  I remembered, as well, the creature that had stood upon the deck and cast molten fire down upon our own ship's crew.

“There are not many of them, but they can control fire, and manage the black drakes they use as transportation.  One of them wiped out half of our advance defense when they came.  We were unprepared.”  Liet's voice was heavy with memory.

“Will we be able to exit the city today?”  I asked, seeking to change the direction of conversation.  I wasn't certain we would survive another night within the city walls.

Liet nodded.  “I'm taking us to a guardsmen's exit.  We should be there in another hour or two at this pace.  From there, it's open country.”  He looked to Silent.  “We'll need him to find the king's forces though.  I don't know to where they retreated.”

“Silent will be fine and can direct us from there.  He just needs some time to rest and heal.  It's difficult to kill a Knight of Ethan.”  I answered, and for a time we walked on in silence, though I sensed there was something Liet wanted to say, or ask.  He had a pensive look about him, weighted by curiosity.  He feared me, but at the same time felt a companionship forged through shared combat.  It was a condition that happened to those who fought together, but his sense of camaraderie was halted by my status, at least in his eyes, as a Knight of Ethan, and possibly as a monster.

“Why do you and Malice have eyes full of color, like the king, and not black eyes like all the other Knights of Ethan?”  He finally asked, breaking the long silence.  He quickly added, “If you don't mind me asking. . . I don't mean to impose, it's just I've never seen anything like it before, Seir'ir.”  He used the formal title for the Knights of Ethan again.  It was one that no one ever used for me before I'd met him.  I found it uncomfortable, possibly more so than the name given to me by Lucidil, Noble.

“That's difficult to explain, Liet.”  I said, and noticed that the young Knight seemed to deflate.  I went on, so as not to squelch the nerve it took to breach the subject in the first place.  “When we rise to become Knights of Ethan, our lives are joined with those of another.  If that bond is exceptionally strong, then the color of our eyes will be bright.  If the bond is not strong, then the color of our eyes will be black.”

Liet seemed to cheer up a little at this.  He had fought bravely, and I didn't think it my right to deny him the answer to a question.  I didn't intend to explain to him the full ramifications of the bond created between a future Knight of Ethan, and the Uliona Bound One, but if he would be happy with a shortened version, that I could offer.

“It is strange that more Knights do not have colored eyes.”  Liet said, after a short time.

There he touched on a sensitive subject.  “The bonding is a difficult process, and does not lend itself to forming close friendships, most of the time.  Malice and I had unusual circumstances surrounding our bonding.”  I said, clipping my tone a little.  I had said all I was willing to say on the subject, and without being rude, I wanted Liet to understand that.  He seemed to, for he did not speak of it again.  We progressed in grim silence.

That trek out of the city was harrowing.  As burdened as Malice and I were, and as tired, any situation in which we needed to fight would likely have cost us our lives.  With Liet leading, however, we encountered no enemies.  We made it safely to the city wall as Liet had predicted we would.

The guardsmen's gate stood deathly quiet as we approached.  Liet used his key to unlock the door to the gate house, and went inside to raise the portcullis.  I watched our back as the gate was lifted to allow us freedom.  I felt eyes upon me, as though the city held secret spies in every shadow, watching and waiting for me to let down my guard.  I wasn't sure if this feeling was natural paranoia, or a result of my extreme exhaustion, but it was a feeling I could not shake no matter how hard I tried.

Finally, with the way ahead cleared, we departed the city.  It was impossible to lower the gate from the outside, so it had to stay open, gaping like the jaws of a massive stone demon that might charge forward and swallow us up the moment we turned our backs from it.  Even as we made our way quickly from the city, I could not shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

At the top of a hillock, just beyond the city, I turned back and looked at the sprawl of the human capital behind me.  It looked nothing like it had when I'd first seen it four years before.  In the wake of the Hungering attack, it looked like the burnt out ruins of an ancient relic, somehow still smoldering years after its downfall.  Amidst the black smoke and haze, immense dark shapes moved, difficult to decipher from such a distance and through such a dark shroud of smoke, but terrifying for what horrific beasts they implied.

A blue fire burned at the top of the castle, an ominous, unnatural beacon.  I turned my back on it, ignoring the feeling of eyes upon me, and rushed to catch up with the others.

The going was painfully slow.  Silent's injuries kept him in a state of unconsciousness most of the time, and we desperately needed his guidance for direction.  Once we found the main road, it would be easy enough to determine in which direction the king and his armies had fled, but without knowing the direction, we would have to circle the city, a dangerous proposition with the forces of the Hungering having occupied it so thoroughly.  What was worse, according to Liet, a good portion of the Hungering forces were still sweeping along the coast line, destroying the villages there.  It seemed as though there was no end to their numbers.

The few times Silent did rouse, he was nearly incoherent, and seemed lost in a place of his own fancy.  He was a fast healer by human standards, and would recover from his wounds, but they were still grievous, and would need to run their course on his body.  It was difficult to tell whether his delirium was caused entirely by his wounds, or was a result of his faltering mental state towards the end of our escape from the city.  Either way, it placed us in a precarious situation.  We needed to know which direction to travel, and how far to travel in that direction.  Circling the city was not a feasible option.

“They probably did not head towards the shore line.”  Malice said, scanning over a map of the area that Liet carried in his pack, as we set huddled around a rock we were using as a make shift table. “Not with the Hungering originating in that direction.  Unfortunately, that leaves us with a good many possibilities.  Liet, do you know which direction the Hungering attacked from?”

Liet shook his head.  “I was nowhere near the walls when we were beset.  I was immediately sent to help gather refugees into groups and prepare them to leave.  From that point, groups of soldiers and members of the Black Patch Brigade took the groups out of the city.  I don't know exactly which direction they left, or even if they all left in the same direction.  It's possible they took multiple routes.”

That was a possibility that hadn't occurred to me, but it was one that made sense.  Keeping one solid group of people might be easier to defend, but in a worst case scenario, in the event of a massive ambush, there would be immense military losses.  An army would suffer fewer losses if the groupings were smaller, and spread out over a larger area.  Had I been king, I would have grouped everyone together, and used my entire military force to guard the escape, but Lucidil was not like me.  He would be more concerned with getting his army to its destination as intact as possible than he would be about saving the refugees from the city.  I believed Liet's guess was right.  The refugees were probably taken out in groups, to be rejoined later.

If anything, that would make our task easier.  We needed only find the trail of one of those groups, and then we could track it back to the king's new fortifications.  My eyes scanned the map.  We still needed an immediate direction to travel.  Where would the king set up his next defensive line?

He would need to choose a location that allowed him to have a terrain advantage, as well as providing him open access to supply lines from the back.  He'd want to be near a major city, some place where the refugees could find shelter, and his army could obtain the provisions it would need for the battle.  Unfortunately, so close to the capital, there were multiple large cities that could provide such backing.

“Here.”  Malice pointed to a location on the map, South-east of Kreo.  It was a converging valley, deep, with high walls to either side, which ran some few miles across the countryside.  At the far end of the valley was Kreolit, the first city established outside of Kreo, and one of the largest human established cities.  Assuming it still stood, it would provide the provisions and support needed for Lucidil's army.  Though, I knew, even a city of that size could not feed an army, and all the refugees, indefinitely.

“He will definitely go here.”  She tapped the spot on the map again.  “It's a good place to defend, and it assures his back will be safe, so long as Kreolit has not fallen, and I do not believe the Hungering will have gotten there yet.  Also, it brings him closer to the Shao Geok, and we know they have been allies to him in the past.  I should think the Hungering would be threat enough to them as well, that they might come to Lucidil's call in this war.”

Her logic was sound.  I hadn't even considered the Shao Geok.  This was yet another case in which Malice's wisdom was evident.  In her two hundred years of life, she had well-honed her mind for strategy and fighting, and it was evident in all of her actions.  Sometimes, when she was cold and distant, in her Knights of Ethan guise, it was difficult to remember how soft and compassionate she could be.  I looked at her, her jaw set firm and determined, her brilliant red hair tied back severely, and her green eyes, dancing with the flowing, lightening-like streaks of the Uliona and Knights, sparkling in the fading light of day.  She looked, to me, like a war goddess, imposing and beautiful at the same time, locked in a state of eternal youth and vigor.  I had trouble imagining the tear streaked face of the girl I'd held long into the night just over six years before, in an embrace of mutual comfort.

“Noble?”  Malice said, loudly, a slight look of concern on her face.  “Are you alright?”  I realized, then, that I had been staring, and had let my mind wander.  I was tired, my body worn from its exertions the day before, and my thoughts prone to straying.  Even a Knight of Ethan needed to rest sometimes.  Malice too, looked exhausted.

“I'm alright.  I'm still feeling last night's battle.”  I made my explanation short.

Malice nodded, her face stern once more, though I sensed her concern still remained.  She couldn't allow herself to be seen as weak in front of those we were trying to protect.  Of course, she was in no way weak, but after fighting for an entire night, pushing ourselves forward with all the speed and strength at our disposal, we were both reaching our limits.

I strengthened my resolve.  If Malice could stay focused, I could as well.  I owed her that much, and to those few people we had saved as well.  They were counting on us, and it wouldn't due for Malice or me to appear on the edge of collapse, whether we were or not.

“That's a four day march from here.”  Liet said, scanning the distance on the map.  I was about to correct him, to tell him that it was only a two day march, but then I realized that we would not be able to travel at the sustained rates we normally did, not while carrying the injured Silent, and traveling with those unable to run for an entire day.

The king and his men had left nearly a week before.  Traveling with refugees, an army, as well as a collection of war sows, reave haulers, and livestock, they would probably just be reaching the valley, though some of the advanced troops and early refugees might have already reached that point.  We would probably make better time than they did, but how long could Malice and I keep awake and on guard in our tired state?  Would we be able to fight effectively if it became necessary?

Yes.  There could be only one answer.  We would have no other choice.  Until we reached the valley and could safely turn over the refugees we would not be in a position to rest, not with the hungering at our backs, and people in our care.  Few though they were, I had no intention of letting any more of them die.  I had been witness to too much death in my short life.

“We should travel a few more miles tonight, and then we can stop and rest.”  I said the words, though I did not want to say them.  Malice looked to me, and I saw the slightest smile on her lips.  I knew, in that moment, that Malice had needed to say that exact same thing, but had not wanted to do it, not with everyone so worn out.  They had been few words, but saying them for her, I had shouldered the burden.  Even Malice, who could seem so cold, was not invulnerable to the turmoil around us.

“The children are tired.”  Reana said plaintively, before adding.  “I am tired.  Can't we rest here for the evening?”  She looked at me, and I could see the exhaustion in her face.  She was not lying when she said she was tired, not merely complaining for the sake of doing so.  However, we were all tired.  She looked to me for salvation, her eyes pleading, but I had none to offer.  For her, there were only a few more miles to walk before she could rest.  Malice and I would not have it so easy.

“No.  We're still too near the city, and even in a few miles we'll be closer to that place than we should be.  We must move on.”  I said, though the words were difficult.  I made them cold, distant, trying to take on that commanding persona that Malice used so well.  It was difficult for me, and sounded artificial when I used it.  I was unaccustomed to giving orders.  I only hoped that the others could not hear how unnatural those words were as I said them.

Reana bowed her head in supplication, not having the energy, or the nerve, to question me again.  I remembered that she still saw Malice and me as monsters, creatures to be feared and avoided.  I could have hated her for that, or at least resented her for it, but I remembered what it was to be human.  We packed up our map and set out again, myself with Silent on my back, and Malice carrying the children.

“. . . what it was to be human.”  I whispered those words, too quiet for anyone to hear but myself.  Silent may have heard . . . had he been awake.  Those words, that thought, struck me with a sense of finality.  I had contemplated it many times, but it was that moment in which I truly accepted the fact that I was not human any longer.  I did not think of myself in those terms.  I had truly become the monster I had always feared I would.

We traveled for another two hours, until the sun had set entirely beneath the horizon, and the darkness made going any further dangerous.  Liet and Reana curled up together with the children, shivering in the cold, until Malice took off her cloak and cast it about them.  Timro huddled on the other side.  He had been quiet since the fight at the inn.  I gave up my cloak as well, knowing the winter cold would not harm me adversely, even if it made me uncomfortable.  Neither Malice nor I received any form of thanks, and soon our charges were fast asleep, recovering from their ordeals, while we stood as exhausted sentries.

Silent lay apart from the others, wrapped in his own cloak, tossing and turning in his fevered sleep.  His body was recovering, but he would be little use to us for the next two or three days, we both knew.  He did not heal as Malice and I did, with such rapidity that we could watch our wounds close up before our eyes.  In fact, other than Lucidil, and perhaps Ethaniel himself, no other Knight of Ethan healed as we did.

“You can get some sleep if you want.”  Malice said, after a time of silence.  Her voice was soft again, as it was when she was just Malice my dear friend, and not Malice the Knight.

I shook my head.  “No, if they come in the night, we'll both need to be ready to fight immediately.  I can't afford sleep now.”

“I know.”  Malice answered quietly.  “I wanted to offer it anyway.”

I turned and smiled at her, and saw that she was smiling back, a knowing look in her eyes.  She had offered, but she'd also known I wouldn't take her up on the offer.  She had not done it to trick me, or to test what I would do, but only because she'd wanted to show concern, in her own way.  Malice was difficult to understand at times, but there was more to her than many were willing to see.  Of those I'd known over the years of my life, she was one of the strangest, and truly one of the best.

A cold wind blew through our campsite, bringing with it the first few flakes of winter snow.  Even with my fur clad limbs and my body's amazing ability to adapt to any environment, that cutting, icy wind still stung.  Malice walked over to me and put one of her arms around my shoulders, pulling me close.  I returned the gesture, and we huddled together, fending off the cold while watching the darkness for any signs of movement.  A light snow began to fall as we kept watch.

I felt her eyes upon me before I noticed that she was no longer watching the trees, but looking at me instead.  I turned and looked at her, feeling suddenly awkward beneath her gaze.

“What's wrong?”  I asked, for her face seemed touched with a hint of sadness, and her eyes seemed far away.

She turned away then, looking out into the trees once again.  “It's nothing. I was just remembering better times.”  She stopped for a minute, and then a small smile touched her lips.  “. . . and thinking about how good it is to see you alive.”

I squeezed her tight once more, feeling her warmth close against me.  Malice, my friend, the one person still alive who'd stayed beside me through everything terrible that had happened.  Every time I found myself near her, it became difficult to figure out what she was to me.  She was my friend, and we had been lovers in the past, but what did she think of me?  Was I simply a friend to her, or did she have other feelings for me?

What did I feel for her?  Was there something more between us?  Was I falling in love with my long-time friend, and what would that mean for our friendship?  I didn't want to betray Kyeia's memory by loving someone else, but could I honestly keep telling myself that Malice did not mean more to me than a normal friend?  What would happen if I told her?

“Do you think they will come for us?”  Malice said, her words breaking my spiraling train of thoughts, and saving me from having try and understand what was happening with my emotions.  It took me a moment to figure out exactly what she was talking about since I had become so lost in my own musings.

“The Hungering.”  I said as the realization struck home, and Malice turned to look at me, an eyebrow raised.  “Yes.”  I said, without pausing, without thinking about my answer.  Once I'd said it, I realized that the answer was true.  I did believe they would come for us.  I couldn't have said why I believed that, but something deep inside of me told me that it was only a matter of time, if they were not already on our trail.

Malice nodded.  “I thought so.”  We sat together in the cold silence, watching the darkness for the enemy we knew lurked somewhere within it.

Morning came without event, the first rays of dawn rising over the horizon filling me with a sense of calm that had not existed over the course of the seemingly unending darkness.  The Hungering probably would not attack us during the day, and that meant that we had a few more hours of safety.  The reprieve would offer no chance for rest, but safety from attack would have to be its own rest.

Liet and the other survivors were rousing themselves from sleep, taking care of natural functions and preparing to travel again.  Malice and I recovered our cloaks. Both of us were eager to be wrapped within the magically sparked warmth again.  Even staying close together, the night had dropped below freezing, and we had felt every agonizing hour of the cold.

I attempted to rouse Silent, but he was still fast asleep, locked in a healing slumber.  I had faith in Malice's prediction of where the king would have gone, but I would have felt better if we could have confirmed her suspicion with Silent.  Our futures depended upon us reaching help as soon as possible.  We quickly gathered up our gear and began our trek towards an uncertain destination.

Once more, Malice carried the children, and Reana hung close to Malice, but now Liet seemed to hang close to Reana, protectively.  I sensed a subtle change in the relationship between the two of them.  I did not bother to ask.  What existed between them, if anything, was no business of mine, and my prying would not have been welcome.

Malice checked our direction, looking to the sky, though she barely needed to.  We had spent the entire night staring at the stars, and watching the silent woods.  Both of us knew the direction of travel necessary to reach our destination, and it was easy to get one's bearings when outside.   We had decided, in the night, to keep to small game-trails and back roads, avoiding the kingdom's main trade route at all costs.  It would be far too easy for a fast moving enemy to catch up with us if we traveled the main road.  Backs paths would make us harder to track, though the light snow from the night before had left a few inches of white fluff on the ground.  Covering our trail across the snow would have been difficult to achieve, and would have slowed us down further, so we were forced to accept that we were leaving an easy path to follow.

I suspected the Hungering, if they really were following us, would not have any trouble tracking us, snow trail or not.  I also worried about the prospect of us leading the Hungering directly to the king's forces, but I suspected, as well, that they already knew where the king had gone, and were simply rebuilding their forces for another attack.  So many men could not move without leaving clear sign, especially when there were hundreds of untrained refugees to move.

I wondered if humanity would survive another wave of the Hungering.  I guessed that depended entirely upon Lucidil, and what he was able to manage in the form of defense.  It was strange to think that the man who had once verbally condemned humanity in my presence was now working on its behalf.  I wasn't sure if that could be construed as a positive turn of events or not.

I did not trust Lucidil, and my opinion was unlikely to change.  He served only his own purposes, I knew, and would seek to achieve them at any cost.  What cost, I wondered, was he paying to reach his ends now?  What would he give in order to destroy the threat of the Hungering?  Worse, what would he force others to give in order to reach his ends?  It was that last question that I feared the most.  Lucidil had Kay, and I did not doubt that he would use her to whatever advantage he could.  That thought infuriated me, and I had to force myself calm again.

I had done my best not to think of my daughter, not to dwell on what might lie ahead, but the hours of silent walking, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, left me far too much time to consider the possibilities.

The terrible truth lay not far ahead of me, and as I drew nearer, a great trepidation built up in the pit of my stomach.  I had feared my approach to Kreo, feared what I might discover there, but that had been nothing compared to what I felt as I approached Lucidil.  He was a man driven, and the knowledge that he had sent me, like a blindfolded assassin, after the king while he held my daughter hidden away, did little to make me feel better about dealing with him.  He was clever and ruthless.  I considered trying to kill him, and not for the first time.

Lucidil would say that I wanted to kill him because I feared him, and that would be partially true.  It would be nice to say that I had desired his death because I felt that I would be freeing the people from tyranny, and the madness that stems from tyrannical rule, but that would be a pleasant self-deception.  I wanted to kill Lucidil because he had killed Wisp, and he had taken my daughter away from me, leaving me to believe she might be dead, or something worse.  I did not doubt there were worse things than death.

There was no nobility in my desire to end the life of the red-eyed Knight of Ethan, master of the Broken Swords, and now king of the lands of men.  I only wanted him to die to pay for the suffering he had caused me and my family.  I wanted him to die for the storekeeper who I had never known, the one he'd killed after I'd first met him.  I no longer doubted what had become of that terrified storekeeper and his wife, having become aware of what Lucidil was capable of doing.  I wanted him to die for every corpse he'd stepped over to climb his way to the top.

The day slowly wore on, but not slow enough for my liking.  The sun began its descent across the sky, reaching for the horizon as if it too feared the coming darkness.  I looked to Malice, who walked onward with a determined pace, her face paler than normal, dark circles forming under eyes, the only marks on her otherwise pristine features.  I worried about her.  She was beyond her limits, and there were still three more days to go.

We made as much progress as could be expected, with many breaks necessary for Liet and Reana, as well as the children who were becoming restless.  As the light fell away and darkness crashed down upon us, we broke for camp, eating further into the dwindling rations that Liet and Reana carried with them.   In truth, Malice and I did not eat.  It was another concession we could make for the betterment of the entire group.  We could go for weeks without eating if necessary, though we preferred not to.  Rest, though, after an exertion like we'd made fighting in the city, was the real problem.

Liet and his group finally laid down, the children looking at Malice and I expectantly, for they were children, and no longer feared us since Malice had carried them so far.  They thought of us as they did any other adults, and we had something they wanted.  We parted with our cloaks and prepared ourselves for another cold night.

“Tonight or tomorrow.”  Malice whispered to me once the others had laid in slumber for a few minutes.  “If they're coming, it will be tonight or tomorrow.”

I nodded my agreement.  I had come to the same conclusion myself.  “I hope they come tonight.”  I added.  “If they don't, I'm not sure I'll be able to fight tomorrow.”

“One of us should sleep.”  Malice said, looking at me, determination behind her eyes.

“One of us sleeping cuts our ability to keep watch in half, and leaves us vulnerable in a rush attack.  We can't afford to sleep.”  I answered, and though I would like to have said I was simply being chivalrous, and not allowing Malice to stay the night alone, I was only stating the truth.

“Where will that place us tomorrow, Lowin, if they do not come tonight?  Tomorrow we will barely be able to walk with our burdens, let alone stand and fight.  One of us must sleep this night.”  She insisted, her voice taking on an edge of command.

I was tired, and it was difficult for me to discern if her argument was logical.  I supposed it was a gamble.  If one of us slept this night, we would be at a loss for solid defense for the night, and would suffer if attacked.  If one of us didn't sleep, and the Hungering came the following night, we would be lost because neither of us would be ready to fight.

“You know I'm right in this.”  She insisted, pressing the point.

“Fine, then you sleep.  I'll keep watch.”  I said, deciding that if we were going to do this, than she should at least be the one to get the rest.  After all, she was the more skilled fighter.  If I would be unable to do much the following day, we would need the most skilled fighter ready to fight.

“No, that's not what. . .”  She began, apparently surprised by my reply, but I cut her off.

“We'll need our best fighter ready for tomorrow.  That is not me, and you know it.”  I cut her off mid-sentence, though it brought an angry look.

She looked about to argue, but, this time at least she had to concede that I was right.  She knew it whether she wanted to admit it or not.  Finally, she gave a heavy sigh.

“You'd be a better fighter if you'd learn to improvise your technique.”  She said.

“What?”  I asked, confused.  It was the first time she'd said such a thing.

“You're fast, and powerful, and your reactions are better than any I've ever fought.  Where you always fail, what keeps you from being truly great, is that you always stick to the rule of the techniques you were taught.  You do so flawlessly, and that is commendable.  Even without your strength and speed, there are not many who could best you in a fair fight.  The truly great, though, those who are remembered forever for their combat prowess, are those who learn to adapt the forms to suit the situation.  I've tried to show you that, but you can be quite thick about these things.”  Malice clarified, before walking over to lie down on the ground, between Silent and the other sleeping forms, but separate from both.

She curled up tight, looking so cold and vulnerable on the ground that I wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to lie next to her.  That was not an option for me, and I had nothing to even cover her with.  I couldn't bring myself to watch her shiver in the cold.

I walked to the perimeter of our camp, my mind on her last words before she went to rest.  Was my fighting truly most flawed by my own proficiency?  Had I really become so adept at the forms, that I had lost my ability to improvise?  I had never, even once, defeated Malice in a fight.  Whether hand to hand, or sword to sword, she had always taken the win.  In the heat of battle, it was too easy to fall back into natural patterns, to let the course of the battle flow in its own way.

It was easy to admit to myself that my stringent adhesion to the forms was a problem, but it was quite something else to break that habit.  I wondered if it was even possible, or if I would be forever trapped in the patterns I had bonded myself to.  I had always struggled with combat.  I remembered only too well getting repeatedly beaten by Silent and Malice during my training days with the Knights of Ethan.  That seemed like a very long time ago.

I watched the darkness, and the darkness watched me.  I could feel its eyes upon my back.

Where did they hide during the day?  I wondered, as the night finally began to wear thin.  If the Hungering disliked the light, what did they do when they had to make a forced march?  It was a question I had not considered before.  Being unable to move about during the daylight hours, and needing darkness in which to rest, could prove a serious problem to them on the open stretches of ground throughout the human territories.  Even the woods we were traveling through only provided sparse cover, leaving plenty of area for the sun to shine down through.

A shuffle behind me caused me to spin around, my sword coming to the ready before I'd even completed the turn.  My eyes ran through the darkened tangle of trees, trying to pull out details from the black, looking to track any motion that might exist.  Snow was falling at a steady rate, great large flakes tracing bright lines through the air, lines only present to the distinct motion tracking vision of the Knights.  Rain and snow were the greatest hindrances to our vision, though rain was worse by far.  A heavy rain could make us nearly blind to anything further than an arm's length away.  Snow, though, was also a problem.  No two flakes ever fell in exactly the same pattern.

My eyes and ears searched for the source of the errant shuffle I'd heard, but only silence and the swirling snow met my attentive senses.  A twig snapped in the direction I was looking, and I readied myself for what might come, though I could see nothing.  Something was out there.  I backed towards where I knew Malice to be resting, intent upon not waking her unless it was absolutely necessary.  Though if the moment came, I would need to rouse her quickly.

Faintly my ears picked up on the sound of motion, further away than the first two noises.  Was whatever had disturbed the quiet moving further away?  Perhaps, I tried to tell myself, it had just been an animal, making its way through the winter world at night.   My instincts told me what I'd heard had been no deer.

I waited anxiously, watching the woods about me as though they might attack at any moment.  I was so tired that I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep for a few hours, but I knew that I could not do so without betraying everyone, possibly to their deaths.

Finally, at long last, the first rays of sun fell over the land.  The eternal night was at an end.  The others stirred with the coming of the light, rousing themselves to the morning.  Malice was up first, the dark circles under eyes gone, and the pallor to her skin diminished, though she shivered viciously in the morning chill, a thin layer of frost covering her body.  She recovered our cloaks from our waking charges, and quickly put hers on.  She handed me mine, and I tossed the welcomed fabric about my shoulders, though over the course of the night I had been thankful for the cold, for it had kept me alert.

“Anything in the night?”  Malice asked.

I nodded.  “Just before dawn something was in the woods watching the camp.  It fled before the light, but I don't believe it was local wildlife.”  I figured it had been a scout for the Hungering, and if their scout had reached us in the night, it would not be long before their hunting party caught up to us.  We still had two more days of travel ahead.

“Our rations are low.  Perhaps we should see if we can catch some local game.”  Liet's voice sounded from behind us.  Malice and I turned as one.

“The enemy could be upon us any day now.”  I said.  “Not only must we move immediately, we must go faster than we have up to this point.”  Neither Liet nor Reana looked happy to hear that.  “We have the day, since they do not like to move in the light, but they will come with the dark tonight.  Do not doubt that.”  I could have added that only Malice was in any condition to fight, but I didn't feel that letting them know exactly how dire our situation had become was necessary.

Reana's mouth tightened into a tight circle.  “You can't keep driving us like animals.  We're human, and we need rest and food, but I suppose you wouldn't understand that since you're a monster.”  Her brown eyes locked on to my deep purple ones, and she did her best to keep her gaze fixed there, but it faltered, and she looked away.  My own eyes never wavered.

Perhaps, after all, it was time to share the gravity of the situation.  “A Hungering scout was at our camp last night while you all slept, and scouts are never far beyond the full hunting party to follow.  It is impossible to say exactly how the Hungering organize, but I would guess that a larger hunting party is no more than a few hours behind the scout.”

“Malice, Silent and I might seem like unstoppable machines of death to you, but Silent is injured and unable to fight, and I have had no rest since our skirmish at the inn, in which I spent almost everything I had to hold back the tide of enemies.  Malice was able to get a few hours of sleep last night, and is therefore in fighting condition, but of the three of us 'monsters,' she is the only one who will be effective in combat.

“The hunting party following may be only one or two soldiers, in which case we will have no problem, but what if it is twenty, or thirty strong?”  My voice had taken on a bitter edge, and I knew it was not a pleasant thing to hear.  “Survival is dependent upon us getting to the king and his men as quickly as possible.”

A heavy silence fell about the camp.  Liet and Reana said nothing.  Timro stepped forward and spoke for the first time since the inn. His voice was firm and quiet.

“You've done right by us, and I give thanks for that.  I will walk until my legs fall off if I have to.”  The farmer said, and they were words that helped ease the anger burning inside of me.  He seemed to need no other words.  He gathered the few belongings he had and slung them over his shoulder, ready to march on.

Sheana, the youngest of the girls walked to Malice and put her arms around the furry leg of my green-eyed companion.  “You're not a monster.”  She said with the conviction that only the young can muster.

She was maybe five years old, near Kay's age.  Emotion burned my eyes, and formed a knot in the back of my throat.  It was a stupid and sentimental reaction, but I was so very tired.  Malice picked up the young girl and put her on her back.  For a moment, her deep green eyes met mine, and I knew that Malice was thinking the same thing as me.  How was little Kay doing?

“Let's move.”  I said, my voice quiet.  There were no further complaints from the others.  We prepared our gear and began walking, at a faster pace, across the snowy terrain.  The snow, though, was starting to pile up and the terrain was becoming more difficult.  We were being slowed down, and it couldn't be avoided.  Traveling any faster would be dangerous.

For their part, Reana, Liet and Timro pushed themselves hard.  Reana looked over her shoulder constantly, as though she suspected the enemy would come lurching out of the trees behind us.  I could understand her feeling of paranoia.  I too felt as though they were riding down upon us.  In fact, as the day wore on, the feeling seemed to grow, and even I found myself checking over my shoulder, though my hearing should have been enough to give me early warning.  Was I so tired that I was becoming paranoid?

I looked to the horizon, checking the position of the sun.  We still had three hours of light left.  So why was it that I felt that peculiar sensation of being watched again?  I looked to Malice.  She seemed calm, and did not return my look, fixed on forward motion as she was.  Paranoia?  I couldn't be certain.  Silent weighed heavily upon my back, unmoving, except when he thrashed about in his sleep, making carrying him even more difficult.  I trudged onward.

Timro screamed, and the world erupted into chaos.  Snow seemed to explode into the air in front of me, blocking out the dim light coming through the gray sky as everywhere around us the world descended into violent madness.  Driving all of the chaos was Timro's piercing voice, his suffering scream like a backdrop to the terror.

I found my sword in one hand, though I could not remember drawing the blade.  Silent still weighed heavily upon me, a constant pressure I was unwilling to part with.  I looked for Malice, but she was gone, having likely blurred into motion the instant things began.  I could see nothing.  The cascade of snow had left the world in a spinning dance of colored light.  Timro's scream gurgled to a stop, a sound of such finality, that there could be no question as to his condition.

The three children sat huddled in the snow, deposited where Malice had left them when she went to Timro's aid.  I moved to them, laying Silent amidst them, I stood sentinel over their shivering forms, for there was little else I could do.  My mind felt slow, and my body was tired and unresponsive.  My ears twitched.  I looked around, but saw nothing.  They twitched again, and I realized that they were attempting to focus on a sound, a dull rumbling from beneath my feet.  It took my exhausted mind precious seconds to come to a conclusion.

“The ground!”  I called into the whiteness of the world.  “They're in the ground.”  I did not know what to do, but I picked up Silent, and gathered the children to me.  Carrying all four of them was difficult, but I managed.  My heart hammered in stable rhythm within my chest, reminding me that it would not falter on me, even if the rest of my body was uncertain.  My eyes scanned the nearly blinding snowscape until, finally, I caught sight of a massive tree.  I moved on instinct then, pushing myself forward with as much speed as I dared. I leaped at the tree, reaching out with one clawed hand, holding my precious cargo with the other, and knowing that I would need to grab hard if I was to support all of the weight I carried.  Tiny hands squeezed tightly into my cloak and clothing, and Silent hung limply over my shoulder, acting like a dead weight.

I hit the tree with explosive force, the entire thing shaking at my impact.  One of the children, I couldn't tell which in the confusion, nearly was flung free, but I snagged them before they could fall.  I climbed the tree, digging in with my claws and pulling myself up the bark of the evergreen, its sap coating my hands and feet.  Somewhere beneath me, back the way I'd come, another terrified scream filled the air.  This one was female.  I sat the children in the tree as firmly as possible, and draped Silent within a nest of branches.

“Stay in this tree.  Do not come down until one of us comes to get you, and make sure he does not fall.”  I pointed to the prone form of Silent.  “If we do not return, wait for Silent to wake, and tell him that we have died.”  I could see tears forming in the eyes of the children, and knew I would have a problem on my hands in a moment.

“I know you want to cry.  I know things seem terrible, but Malice and I will fight to our last breaths to see you to safety.  Be strong, be quiet, and we will come through this.”  I pulled free my cloak and handed it to the children, who quickly spread it over the three of them and huddled close together.  I gave them one last look, and dropped from the tree.

A rumbling sounded from the ground beneath me, but knowing what to tune my ears into, I was ready.  It was coming up through the ground, getting louder as it did.  I waited, my sword at the ready, its hilt now sticky in my hand.  Just as I was certain that whatever was beneath the ground was about to burst through, I thrust my sword downward with all the power I could muster.  The blade clove through the ground, passing hesitantly through the dirt, until suddenly it hit something far softer than crumbling earth.  There was a dull groan from beneath the ground, and the sound of subterranean digging ceased.

I ran, moving in the direction from which the screaming had been coming.  It had stopped before I left the tree, but now I could hear the sound of combat, quick movements, punctuated by the sound of weapons swinging through the air.  The snow made it difficult to make out details.  Below me, another rumbling approached.  I stopped and waited, again letting it come near before reacting.

The rock beneath my feet churned and I jumped upward, and brought my full weight down on my sword.  The blade pierced earth, and then it pierced whatever lay beneath, but this time I was too late.  The digging creature's momentum was too great and it burst forth from ground beneath me, though my blade had surely slain it.  It was a terrifying monster, eyeless, with a front half so heavily bulged with muscle that the beast's mere existence seemed to deny reality.  Its powerful forearms ended in large, heavily clawed hands, so great that the two of them could have closed around a fully grown man's chest.  Its face, if that was what it could be called, was mostly featureless but for two side-facing slits whose purpose I could not be certain of, and what looked like a second set of clawed hands, protruding from where its mouth should have been.  My blade had pierced this malformed lump of flesh that seemed to be its head.

For a moment I thought my weapon may have failed to kill the enemy, for its body kept pushing up through the ground, wriggling upward as though it were still crawling to the surface, but this was not the case.  Instead, other creatures were pouring out from behind it, thrusting its corpse into the cold, icy world of the surface.  These creatures resembled the Hungering, though, in truth, even the diggers shared a similar aesthetic.  They looked the same, pale skin stretched too tightly over their bodies, and had those same terrible, burning eyes.

These newest demons, though, looked even more like the Hungering creatures I was familiar with.  They were smaller in stature, and did not wear the chitinous armor of their fellows, but their bodies were covered in spines and spikes, and they were humanoid, by the barest standards of the word.  Four of the monsters came to the surface following the digging creature.  If they were alarmed by the death of their fellow, they did not show it.  They attacked with a vengeance, leaping at me, teeth barred, and horrible spiked bodies being wielded as weapons.  I jumped backwards, forcing myself to speed up.  My entire body screamed in agony, and my head swam, but the speed came.

The creatures came at me in slow motion, their bodies sailing through the air with a seeming leisurely meandering.  I changed my direction, pushing forward against my backward motion with a force that would have broken my legs had they not been the legs of a Fell Beast.  I tore my sword through the air, feeling the buffeting of the wind friction against the fine honed steel.  My blade struck the nearest creature across the neck, and passed through with little more resistance than offered by the air.  One of the other creatures, having landed from its initial spring, was changing direction, and attempting to charge me again. I let my momentum carry me forward, and used it to tumble, rolling to my feet safely out of range.  Snow kicked up from the ground, flying into the air in a gradual cascade.  I was moving again before it even reached its peak.

The next two creatures I took out as one, for they were close together, and it was easy enough to accomplish.  My blade slipped through them as if they were paper dolls, and I swung to take out the fourth.  It was in mid-leap, its momentum already set.  I needed only to bring up my sword to meet its rush.  The creature ground to a halt against my crosspiece, and I shook it free, letting the world resume its normal pace about me.

I moved forward once more, and then I could see Malice fighting, Liet at her side, his good arm was still useless, and so he was fighting, ineffectively, with his left.  Malice flashed from place to place, but there were too many of the creatures, and some of the diggers had reached the surface as well.  One of them lay off to the side, obviously dead, but with Reana gripped tightly in one of its terrible fists.  Her eyes had bulged out of her head, and her face was bright red.  I guessed the creature had squeezed her to death.

I took no more time to stare at the atrocities before me.  I attacked.  The speed came back to me only hesitantly, but I grabbed a hold of it and fell into it with reckless abandon.

As I joined Malice, I freed her to move, since she no longer had to stay tied to Liet's position.  We fought together, weaving a pattern of death around us, beautiful and terrible.  The last enemy fell to Malice's sword, as had many before it.  She had done the better part of the killing, though I had tried to keep pace.  I was at my limits.  A scream sounded in the silence of the after battle, coming from the tree where I had left the children.  We all looked, but Malice leaped forward first.

I charged after her, finding that I could not make my body go any faster than the run of a normal man.  My muscles ached, and I was so tired I could not think.

The tree was swarming with creatures, at least six of them, two had already begun to climb the sappy bark, while the others sat below, looking up with hungry red eyes.  The children huddled around Silent, trying to shake the injured Knight awake.  It seemed to be to no avail.  He was still deep in the process of healing.  Malice leaped into the fray, dispatching the creatures with every blurring motion of her powerful body.

I charged forward, though I knew not what I hoped to accomplish.  I was so far behind my limits it was surprising, even to me, that I could keep walking.  I engaged an enemy.  It attacked, claws and teeth gashing and trying to score a hit.  I fell into the familiar patterns of my weapon, turning aside the blows to the best of my ability, but I was losing ground.  My sword had become heavy and ungainly.

A loud snap sounded from near the tree, and my eyes glanced in that direction.  It was not an intentional move, but before I knew it, my gaze was there, locked on the tree.  One of the hungering creatures hung pinned to the bark, half a sword sticking out of its lifeless body, the blade still reverberating in the tree in which it had been broken off.  Malice's work, though she had already moved on.

The distraction cost me.  The creature that had been attacking me used that moment to spring, driving me to the ground.  The many spikes and protuberance of its body tore into my flesh in multiple places, and it immediately began to tear into me with its vicious, hooked hands, ripping at my chest.  I was not wearing my cloak, so it tore easily scored wound after wound.  I brought my sword up, but its body was too close to mine for the weapon to be effective.

I dropped my steel weapon and brought my claws to my defense, but I could not force them to sharpen, and my strikes were ineffective.  I felt a bone in my chest snap as the Hungering gouged at me, and I believed, in that moment, that I would die.  I looked up into the terrible red eyes of the beast that would kill me.  They burned, but there was no hate or malice in them, only a great, fiery emptiness.  Another rib cracked.

Suddenly the burning eyes were gone, and the head to which they'd been attached went sailing through sky and fell away.  The clawing at my body stopped, and I looked up, expecting to see Malice standing above me.  Instead, my eyes found Liet's.  He was looking down at me, his face drawn and pale.  He looked even more distressed when he saw the damage the Hungering creature had left.  I forced myself to look down.

My body was in ruins.  My ribcage was exposed in multiple places, and the bone was snapped and jutting at unnatural angles.  The snow all around me was bright red.  I heard voices, the sounds of children, the sound of Malice's voice, and I tried to look up and see who was talking, but the world had taken on a fuzzy haze.

“Oh, by the king's name. . .”  I heard a familiar male voice say as it approached me, but I couldn't quite place it.  It sounded like an old friend.  “We'd better. . .”  The voice faded, and the world went with it.

I woke with a start, and found myself stretched between two people, an arm over the shoulder of one on each side, my feet dragging in the snow.  I looked from left to right, taking in those two helping me walk.  On one side was Malice, and on the other, to my surprise, was Silent, looking grim and tired.  His face was drawn and pale.  I put my feet under me and unburdened my two travel companions, who both looked surprised when I stood on my own.

“You're awake.”  Silent said, stating the obvious in his surprise.  “You've only been out for about three hours.  When I first saw you I thought. . .”  His words trailed off and he turned his eyes away, hiding what might have been concern.

I looked down at my chest, remembering the grisly damage that had been left after the attack by the Hungering earlier.  I had to pull open my cloak to see for myself, but I was comforted to find the wounds had closed, and the flesh had begun to knit back together.  There were horrible scars crisscrossing my skin, but I knew that in a matter of hours they would fade like all other wounds I had acquired since becoming a Knight of Ethan.  The only scars I still wore on my entire body were those white lines that crossed my face, the only sign Wisp had left upon the world.

I looked around and saw that Liet was walking with the children just ahead of us.  He stopped when the rest of us did, and was watching us, his face also locked in a stare of surprise.  It was apparent, from the looks of the others traveling with me, that none had anticipated such a fast recovery after my injuries.  Remembering what I'd seen before passing out, I too was surprised to be in such a hearty state of repair so quickly.  Death had truly been close to me.  I survived, I knew, only because of Liet's good timing, and excellent sword stroke.  I owed him a great debt, and when the opportunity came, I intended to let him know as much.

I continued to look around, hoping beyond hope that I would see Timro somewhere amidst our group, but he was not there.  Reana, I knew, was dead.  I remembered her red, swollen face, and her empty eye sockets.  In my memory, they seemed to stare at me accusingly.  I had told them we would be safe during the day, and I had been wrong.  That wore heavily upon me, yet another burden to bear.

“Are you alright?”  It was Malice's voice.  I turned my attention to her.  She seemed well enough, strong and as confident as ever.  That, at least, was good.

“I don't know.”  I replied, my words an apt reply to both the questionable state of my physical body, and my emotions.  My chest still hurt, fresh skin and muscle were still quite tender in places.  Every movement of my arms, and even the act of breathing caused me pain.  I knew that would fade before long, and so I did my best to ignore it.  My mind, though, was suffering another type of hurt.  I felt personally responsible for those who had died in the last attack.  I had sworn to myself that I would protect them, but I had failed in the end.  I wanted to tell the others, so that they might punish me for my failings, but I knew that such was the act of one seeking attention.  My failings were my own, and I would have to learn to live with them.

“I will be alright.”  I said, after a moment.  Malice looked unconvinced, but Silent merely shrugged, still not meeting my eyes.  I remembered, then, that it had been his voice I'd first heard coming to my aid after Liet killed the creature that was attacking me.  He had sounded, at the time, like the friend he had once been to me.  However, his face had reverted to a calm indifference again.

I turned my eyes skyward and saw that night had descended over us.  I wondered if the Hungering would come again, or if we had destroyed their only hunting party.  How badly had they wanted us dead?  How many hunting parties had they sent?  These questions assailed me again and again, first one, and then another - a ceaseless barrage of problems that I could find no answer to.  The only solution I could reach was that we would need to keep moving.

If we pressed through the night, we might be able to reach the valley before the following evening.  I was still tired, and my physical pain didn't help, but I'd at least had some rest while unconscious.  Most of that energy had gone to healing, but I felt better than I had before the attack, at least as far as rest was concerned.  My body was another matter entirely.

“If we each carry a child, it will ease our burden, and make our traveling faster.”  Malice said, a thought very much like the one that had been formulating in my head.

“If one of us carries two, then one of us will be free to carry Liet.  We could run then, possibly meet up with the king by dawn.”  Silent offered.  I had not thought to ask him if we were heading in the right direction, but obviously he had conferred with Malice at some point.  Her intuition, it seemed, had been correct.

The children, hearing the conversation, ran to Malice, eager to be carried once more by her, for she was apparently the least scary of the three of us.  She picked up two, and the other had to be satisfied with Silent's back.  The smaller Knight, Silent, still looked as though his wounds were causing him pain.  The children must have been able to wake him from his rest before he'd completely healed, an unusual occurrence, since in my experience when a Knight of Ethan passed out, they stayed out until their body had mostly recovered.  Still, it was a fortunate turn of events.

I walked to Liet, and offered him my back.  He looked on the verge of turning the offer down, but I spoke before he could refuse.

“I owe you a debt, Liet.  Letting me repay that debt is the honorable thing to do.”  My words, I hoped, would disarm his worry about dishonoring himself as a knight by riding on my back, like a child.  In truth, I knew that he needed the rest, and could not keep the pace we wished to set.  He had more than earned a break, and if I could offer him one without harming his honor, then it was the least I could do for him after he'd saved my life.

He simply nodded, too tired to offer up any more resistance.  He crawled onto my back, and we all started off in the direction of the king's camp, moving at a slow run, not fast, but far faster than the pace we'd been keeping until that point.

The quickened pacing, combined with my injuries and exhaustion, made me ache all over, but there was a certain exhilaration to be had in charging through the snow.  Some part of me, a place in my heart that was feral and wild, remembered a time when it had hunted, running through the snowy fields after game, teasing and tormenting it, finding a near sexual pleasure in the rush of the kill.  I realized, even as that thought occurred to me, that it was not I whose heart soared at such a vision.  That half-memory, that instinctual love of chasing through the snow, that was something inherited from the Fell Beast whose arms and legs I'd taken.

With that realization also came a sudden fear.  I had not known that any memories, anything other than the limbs themselves, had remained after I took them.  There it was though, as the snow pressed between my pawed feet and the wind brushed the fur on my exposed arms, I remembered what it was to be the most feared beast in all the lands.  I could remember how good it felt to sink my teeth into the flesh of fresh prey, and feel its life ebbing out into my waiting maw.

I stopped that line of thought as soon as it started, stifling it with a vengeance.  Never before, though I had run through winter woods many times, had I ever felt such a keen hunger.  I wondered if it was something experienced by all Knights of Ethan, or if it was a peculiarity specific to me.  Either way, the prospect truly scared me.  I would need to talk to Malice about it, when next I had a spare moment.

I pushed those thoughts aside, forcing back those vivid, instinctual memories that threatened to overcome me, and pressed forward through the snow and cold.  I was going to see Kay, and if I could run far enough, fast enough, I might even get to hold her in my arms again before the sun had reached its peak on the morrow.  After four years of searching, that was a reality that was almost impossible to believe.  I was so very close.

“You shouldn't have betrayed us. . .”  Silent's words floated through my mind for the first time since he'd first uttered them.  I had asked about Kay, and he had laughed and told me I shouldn't have betrayed Lucidil and the Broken Swords.  A chill ran down my spine, and my eagerness to see my daughter was tempered by my fear.

We saw the black cloaks in the woods before we realized just how close we'd come to Lucidil's army.  They skulked amidst the trees like ghosts, quiet sentinels of the snowy valley.  It was Silent who saw them first, though he'd known to watch for them.  I guessed that they had seen us as well, but they did not approach us.  Lucidil would have warning that we were coming, which was a good thing, considering he was attempting to defend the valley.  Had he not had scouts in place, I would have been worried.

We pressed on for another two hours, the sun already rising in the sky, casting early morning light down around us.  A contingent of armed guards came from the woods before us, four black cloaked figures lead by a person I had not seen in over six years.  Her skin was pristine, clear and pale, and her vivid blue eyes held the shocking clarity of color only possible of one with Uliona ancestry.  Her almost white hair, a racial trait of her people, was longer than it had been, but it was still tied back in two equal tails that hung halfway down her back.  She looked as youthful and vigorous as she ever had, though she approached our party with a much more stoic pace than when I'd first met her years before.  She had, on that occasion, nearly knocked me from my feet in way of greeting.

We stopped our procession, depositing our precious cargo on the ground, for they were all awake now, and we had finally reached our destination.  Ferocity, the Uliona Knight of Ethan, the only of her kind I'd ever met, stopped before us and studied us intently, looking from face to face with her shocking blue eyes.  She settled on Silent.

“Who are these others?”  She asked, gesturing at the humans who accompanied us.  Her voice rang with the clip of command.

“They are refugees from the city who were unable to escape before the Hungering breeched the walls.  Liet here," he indicated the knight.  “Was instrumental in our making it this far.  He has fought bravely, with more honor than I have seen in a long time.”  Silent's words did Liet justice, and I was glad to hear that.

Liet bowed deeply, going to one knee in the snow in front of Ferocity.  “It was my honor and privilege to fight beside these Knights of Ethan, Mer'am.  I could not do much, but I gave my all.”

Ferocity considered the man for a time, and I could almost see her mind working, mulling over an idea.  Finally, she spoke.  “Fenerfen-Grif," She addressed one of the black cloaks, using the ancient numbering system to identify him.  He was one hundred and eight.    “See that the children are taken to a place where they can get warmed up, and find them something to eat.”  The member of the Black Patch Brigade snapped to attention, his eyes, normally so fierce, softening when they settled upon the children.  He approached them on soft-padding feet and held out his hand.  The children backed away, clutching on to Malice's cloak until she bent down to them and whispered.

“It will be alright.  Fenerfen-Grif will take you to get warmed up and make sure you have a nice, safe place to sleep tonight.”  She smiled, an expression she rarely wore, and the children seemed comforted.  The children released her hesitantly, and latched onto the proffered hand and cloak of the king's other brand of monster.  It was strange to see such a brutal creature treat the children with such gentleness.  His ilk had violated and murdered Wisp, and I could not forget that.

“Grawfen-Grot, take Sir Liet to the medical Pavilion to see Father.  He will know how to best treat the wounds, and possibly even get him back in fighting condition.”  Ferocity said next, addressing number fifty-seven.

I watched the black cloak respond to her words, and I thought, for a moment, I saw hesitation in its motion.  A strange expression flitted across its face, but it passed quickly.  Liet turned and bowed to Malice, Silent and me one final time, before following the black cloak away, leaving us with just Ferocity and two other black cloaks.  I watched him depart, a sudden foreboding coming over me.  Why, I wondered, did I feel that I might never see him again?

Ferocity spoke, addressing Silent.

“What happened to the others?”  She asked him, her voice less commanding now that the humans had left, though her tone said she already knew the answer to her question.

Silent simply shook his head a negative reply, not needing to say anything more on the subject.

Ferocity sighed heavily before turning to look at me.  “You've cost us a lot, Noble.”  She bit the last word off sharply, letting me know what the she thought of the title.  “Weaver has staked a good deal on your importance in these matters, and I'm inclined to trust in his decisions.  However, had I been in his place, I would not have valued you so highly.”

“Where is Kay?”  I asked, not interested in her reprimands.  I had come too far, and been through too much to be rattled or swayed from my purpose.

She smiled, and it was that same sort of smile that I had seen on Silent's face.  My heart raced in my chest, but as it did, a sense of calm spread over me, and I heard words, a female voice, “We've run so far, but let us run a little further.  The fire burns ever quicker, and we must become the rain.”    I looked around, checking to see if anyone else had heard the voice.  The others all stood in silence, except for Ferocity, who was answering my question.

“. . . he will answer that question himself.  He likes you, Noble, but he needs you to know your place.”  With those words, those terrifying words, she turned and began walking away, obviously with the intent that we would follow.  I fell in behind her, as did Malice and Silent.  Silent walked ahead of us, Malice at my side.  I looked to my green-eyed companion, her focus was fixed on Ferocity's back, and such a look of wrath was burning in her eyes.  I reached out and touched her arm.  Malice jumped.

“Calm, my friend.”  I said softly.

When she looked at me, it was not calmness I saw raging behind her eyes.  She softened her expression for me, but beneath that softness, her green eyes burned like bog fire, all-consuming and dangerous.

I had long wondered what I would do when I came face to face with Lucidil again, but now I wondered what Malice might do.  I sensed in her a great rising of vengeful anger, and I did not think it could be so easily quelled.  Lucidil, Weaver, whatever he chose to go by, had better speak wisely, I thought, because if Malice decided to kill him, I was not certain any force could stay her from her course.  She was an element of destruction, a storm of blades and claw that would not be denied.

I focused my eyes on Ferocity's back, and followed the Uliona woman.  She moved with a Knight's grace, but her sway, her underlying motion, reminded me of Kye.  It was foolish to compare the two of them, for Kye had never ascended to the Knights, but they were both Uliona, and as such, they shared some physical traits.  I could not look at Ferocity without thinking of my lost love.  I looked once more at Malice, and saw the firm set of her jaw, the determined hardness in her eyes.

If she attacked, I told myself, I would come to her aid.  I would not let my green-eyed friend fight alone.  If the chance came, and there was a break in battle, I would take Kay and we would all escape together.  I held no illusions, however.  We were walking into the middle of Lucidil's war camp, and if it came to blows, Malice and I would have very little chance of escaping intact.

I expected that we would walk into a massive camp, with lines of fortifications bordering thousands of tents, but that was not what happened.  Instead, we passed by large groups of soldiers, large bands, never further than eye distance apart, but clumped into heavily fortified groups.  They'd begun the project of assembling a strange type of weapon, the likes of which I'd never seen, and seemed less intent upon traditional trench digging and wall building, than on whatever it was that this new project entailed.  The contraption, whatever it was, looked like a battering ram, but the primary beam, the one that would have traditionally been used to smash down gates, was straight up and down, and capped in a dull, heavy steel nose piece.  It seemed an odd device, and I could not fathom its purpose at the time.

We walked past a great number of these, tens of thousands of men and women soldiers manning the strange contraptions.  Whatever Lucidil was doing, it was on a truly epic scale.  Would it be enough?  That I couldn't know.  The Hungering seemed to come endlessly, as though their numbers never decreased.  Every time they came, more of them seemed to creep in, as though they were the tide returning to the claim the land.

To my surprise we proceeded straight through the valley and out the other side, Ferocity leading us on a silent march until finally, after some hours of walking, we reached the first I'd seen of something that looked like a military camp.  It was small, however, maybe large enough to house a hundred men.  It was unfortified, and seemed only to be in place to offer a base of operations.  We were nearing Weaver, and that meant we were nearing Kay.  I clasped my fists closed, my hands verily shaking.  Four years of waiting were finally nearing an end.

Ferocity guided us to the center of the tents, past many faces, though I noted very few Knights of Ethan, maybe only four or five in the entire group.  In the center of the camp was a larger tent, the king's banner flowing freely from its main mast.  Outside of it stood two stoic Knights of Ethan, neither of whom I knew.  When they saw Ferocity they let us by, but not without eying Malice and me with contempt and suspicion.  As we stepped into the tent the light inside seemed dim at first, but my eyes adjusted quickly.  The tent was spacious.  There was a large area off to one side, padded for sleep, and at the far side of the canvass structure was a great table strewn with maps and papers, scrolls and reports piled high.  Sitting in a chair, his head bowed low over his work, Weaver, the King of Men, sat in silent study.

“My King. . .”  Ferocity addressed him formally, though I knew that they were lovers.  Lucidil looked up, saw Ferocity, and smiled.  His eyes fell on me and his smile grew wider.  He stood up from his desk, and in a flash he was next to me.  His red-Knight's eyes glowing with remembered kinship.  His hair hung bedraggled and as roguish as ever, black and lanky, covering part of his face before he tossed his head to cast it away.  He still wore a scraggly beard, and had that odd mix of softness and hardness about his features that I had never seen on another person.  He had not changed a bit since last I'd seen him.

He put his arms around me, squeezing me tight, as though I were a long lost brother returned to him after having been reported killed in battle.  I didn't know how to react, because of all the scenarios I had envisioned, such affection had never crossed my mind.  As his arms circled me, and he patted my back, I couldn't help but think of Wisp, and think of the four years I'd spent locked away from my daughter.  My eyes stung with tears.  That the man who had caused all that pain would think that I could ever hold camaraderie for him again destroyed my ability to reason.  He separated from me, stepping back to look at me as a whole.  I did my best to hide the pain I felt inside, and the rage that I felt directed at the red-eyed warrior.

“It has been too long, Noble, but I can't tell you how glad I am to have you back amongst us.  With you here, I think we can defeat this enemy at last.”  There was a conviction in Lucidil's voice that surprised me.  I was left to wonder, again, why he held such stock in my importance.  It made no difference at that time.  One matter held precedence over all others.

“Let me see Kay.”  It was all I wanted, and I would discuss nothing else until I saw her safe and sound.

Weaver's smile faltered, but did not fade.  He nodded his head.  “I thought you would want to see her.”  He paused for a moment, and then his eyes locked on mine.  “I will let you see her now, and after that as often as you want, but for this first time, there is a rule.  You must not speak to her, and you must not make any move towards her.  Do you understand?”

“What?”  I asked incredulously, my ire rising.  I felt my hand upon my sword hilt, but it was not my steel that was drawn first.  I heard the motion before I even saw Malice move.  When I glanced her way, her blade was free of its leather binding, and out in front of her, as steady as a rock, though there was only half a weapon remaining, for she had broken the blade in our last fight with the hungering.

“You stole our . . . you took Kay away from us, and now you have the nerve to put stipulations on us seeing her again?”  Malice's voice was dangerous, and I did not doubt that she would attack in a moment.  I left my hand on my sword hilt.

“Malice. . .”  Weaver looked at her as if noticing her for the first time.  “You've become even more beautiful than you were when I first trained you.  It has been a long time . . . too long.”  He did not draw steel.  “Put away your sword.  This rule exists for a reason.  You must remember that you've been gone a long time.  Much has changed in the time you were away.  Don't make me give you an ultimatum.”    His last words were an ultimatum of their own sort.  Malice returned her sword to its scabbard reluctantly, but her hand did not stray far.  I looked to my green-eyed friend, and I knew that it was just a matter of time before she lost her control.  Never before had I seen rage written so vigorously upon her countenance.  In her world, at that moment, only she and Lucidil existed.

“Do you agree to my stipulation?”  Weaver asked, looking at both of us now.

I had no choice.  I needed to see my daughter, so I offered my ascent.  Malice, I saw, had torn her attention from Weaver, and was watching me, and waiting for my reaction.  After I gave my consent, she nodded as well, though I could see it cost her dearly.  It was decided.  Weaver nodded to Ferocity, and she left the tent, a look on her face somewhere between nervousness and fear.  My trepidation grew.

Whether it took minutes or hours, I couldn't have said.  I waited with all the patience I could muster, trying to remain calm and steady.  Weaver sat watching me, his eyes intent, expectant, as though he was in constant anticipation of some outburst.  I couldn't guess as to what he might be waiting for, but occasionally his eyes would look to the tent flap, and I would see an expression cross his features much like the one Ferocity had worn before leaving to retrieve Kay.  What, I wondered, was making them so tense?  The tension was catching, for I felt it spreading through me until I was nearly pacing the length of the tent.

Finally, the time of waiting ended, and the tent flap pushed open.  A young girl walked in, six years of age, tall for one so young, clothed in a beautiful dress of fine silk embellished with other expensive fabrics.  Her face lit as she entered the tent, her oh-so-familiar purple eyes going wide as the canvas fell away.  Her features were reminiscent of her mother, even more so than they had been four years before.  She had energy and exuberance that reminded me of myself in my youth.  My heart pounded in my chest, and a smile crept onto my face without me having to force it there.  I felt, in that moment, such elation as I had never felt before.  Kay was alive, and she was well.  My daughter was safe, and all those years of darkness and worry seemed a part of some distant nightmare.

It took a restraint that seemed almost beyond mortal means not to go to her, not to swing her up in my arms and tell her, right then, that I loved her and that I had thought of her everyday she'd been away.  Though, I don't think I could have spoken at that moment if I'd had the chance to do so, so choked with emotion was my throat.  From the corner of my eye, I saw a single tear roll down Malice's cheek, and her face was lit with the most beautiful smile.  We had traveled a long road for that moment, and I thought nothing could steal it away.

Kay's bright eyes burning with love, she raised her arms and ran, her voice a young echo of her mother's as she cried out, “Daddy!”  She passed me, passed Malice, stirring our cloaks in her haste, and leapt into the arms of Weaver, who bent down to swing her up as she jumped to meet him.

“. . . and how is my little Trillia doing today?”  He asked her, and my daughter giggled and buried her head in his cheek.  My beautiful moment shattered like a thawing stream in the early spring, the pieces flowing away from me and disappearing into the chill water of despair.

“Mommy said I could come see you because you wanted me to meet some new visitors!”  She piped cheerfully, tugging at Weaver's scraggly hair.

“Yes, these fine warriors have traveled a long, long way just to fight with daddy.  Trillia, say 'Hello' to Malice and Noble, good friends of daddy's.”  He smiled down at her as he spoke, the perfect image of a father shining his warmth upon his daughter, while he indicated us with the tip of a finger.  Kay seemed to notice us for the first time, and her cheeks colored in shy embarrassment.

“Hello, Malice and Noble, it's very nice to meet you.  I hope you fight the bad guys very well with daddy and mommy.”  She said, her voice was so innocent and sincere, that I felt like it was chiseling at the stone wall I'd built around my heart.  I was bound to say nothing and do nothing.  I nodded my head, and offered the slightest of bows, as I contemplated how I was going to kill Lucidil as soon as my daughter was away.  Of all the things he could have done to me, I'd never imagined for a moment that he would take my daughter away from me in such a way.  Four years.  Had she really forgotten me in just four years?

“That's a good girl.”  Lucidil whispered to her.  “Okay, now why don't you go back to the tent with mommy?”  He put the girl down, and she looked up at him with obvious displeasure, then she looked at us, and seemed to decide that it was not the time to question an adult.  She curtsied to Malice and me, and then departed, hand in hand with Ferocity.  My daughter walked away once more, in the hand of the enemy, in the hand of her new mother.

Everything blurred around me, all my rage and anger overwhelmed me and in a moment all that existed was chaos.  When that haze of rage faded, I was standing with my sword drawn, a group of fifteen black cloaks, and two Knights of Ethan, standing before me, all of their weapons drawn.  Behind me, Malice had Lucidil leaned against his desk, her fist balled at his throat, and her broken sword, its edge still dangerously sharp, resting at his neck.

“I'm going to kill you.”  I heard Malice whisper, her voice low enough so that only the three of us, Weaver, Malice, and myself, could hear it.  “What have you done to our daughter?”  In her anger, she slipped and said what she had almost said earlier.  “Our daughter” It shouldn't have surprised me that she would think of Kay as such, but it did for a moment.  Malice had helped raise her as much, if not more, than I had.  She had as much right to the word, “daughter,” as did I.  I found the sentiment oddly touching.

“I've done nothing to her.  She's safe and sound.  She hasn't been hurt, or abused, and she has had a life far safer, and in better care than most children could ever wish for.”  Weaver's voice was strangely calm.  Those guards around us seemed on the verge of action, and I knew that at any moment things could degenerate into a bloodbath.

“You have to understand, when she got here, the black cloaks that brought her had exposed her to some terrifying situations.  They had not harmed her, but she had witnessed the death of the other woman, Wisp, as well as many other deaths necessary to deliver her safely.  She was traumatized.  She wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat, and we were afraid she might never recover from the trauma.  I had my medics, those specialized in the practice of magics of healing, remove her memories.  She recovered not long after that.”  Weaver explained calmly.

My hand tightened on my sword hilt.  “You are trying to tell me you did this only for Kay, and not simply to punish me?”  My words were as sharp as my sword.

I could not see Weaver, but I could hear the anger in his words.  “You deserved to be punished, Noble.  You betrayed us all. You almost cost me my ambitions.  Yes, I knew that what I did would hurt you, and I knew that it would hurt you even more when I adopted her as a daughter, and Ferocity and I raised her as our own child.  I knew that when she responded to the name I'd given her, "Trillia," and not the name you'd given her, that it would tear you apart inside.  I knew it and I lavished in the thought.  . . . but that doesn't change the situation.  You can't kill me now.”

“I can. . .”  I heard Malice say.  “I should, and I will. . .”

“No!”  Weaver's voice was heavy with “the voice,” dark and gravely, and I heard Malice's killing movement stop, as did the advance of all the guards who had, in that moment, almost fallen upon us with swords at the ready.

“If you kill me,” Weaver continued, his voice calm again.  “no one will be able to unite the people against the Hungering, and all of humanity, and all of the Uliona, and all of the other peoples of our world, will become food for the their forces.  I am not boasting.  I have the connections to save us all, and if I die here, all of that will fall away, and you, Kay, and everyone else, will suffer a terrible death at the hands of our enemy.  You can hate me all you want, but you cannot kill me.”

“How could you do this to me?”  I asked, my sword point still raised, my eyes still darting amidst the group of enemies before me.  “How could you do this, and still greet me as a friend?”

“We should be friends, Noble.  We should be friends, Malice.  We are the strongest of our kind, and we should be friends.  We should be fighting together.  It's all I've ever wanted.  I want to stand next to my strong friends, and push back the evils of the world.  You betrayed me. You tried to take my dream away from me, but I can have it back.  We can still do all of that, together.”  He said, and his voice was filled with the passion of his conviction.

“I want my daughter back.”  I told him, sickened by the extent he'd gone to in order to achieve his goals.  He was, I knew it that moment, one of the greatest evils of the world; a man so certain of his own convictions and wants, that he ignored all else in their pursuit.

“It's not that simple.  She is my daughter now, whether you like it or not, but you could become an important person to her.  It will take time, but you could become a favorite uncle.  How is that going to happen, though, if you kill me here?  Do you think she'd ever forgive the people who killed her beloved father?   Malice, do you think she'd ever want to be held by the woman who cut her daddy's throat?”  He asked, and the only answer we had was our silence.  We couldn't kill him.  I knew it, and Malice had to know it as well.

If we gave in to our desire and killed him, Kay would be lost to us forever, and the Hungering would destroy the lands of men and all else beyond.  We were tied inescapably to the fate of a single tyrannical mad man.  For the second time in my life, I felt that everything of importance in my world was being stripped away from me.

“Let me go, and I'll send the guards away, and we can talk in a more civilized manner.  Afterwards, if you agree to be calm, I might even invite you to my tent for supper this evening, and you can see Trillia again.”  His voice was calm, persuasive, and he emphasized my daughter's new name.

I had to bite back the terrible anger I felt.  I knew it would not serve me well.  He had pressed us into a corner, and we had no choice.  I heard her release the cloth at his throat and step back.  I heard her sword return to its scabbard.  I let my own sword point fall, and finally returned the steel to its leather.  We had been defeated without even a fight.

I turned to face Lucidil.  His red eyes were calm as he straightened his clothing and dismissed the guards, who only left reluctantly.  As the last guard was about to exit, Weaver called out to him.

“Send in Ethaniel and Telistera.  We should all be here for this meeting.  Time is running out, and now that Noble is here, we need to get to work.”  He ordered.  The black cloak nodded its head and left in a flash.

“Why did you have them kill Wisp like that?”  I asked, for that was a terrible memory which I could not push away.  It was such a brutality that I had thought it even beyond Lucidil's means.

Lucidil met my eyes, and he shrugged.  “That was never my intention.  The Black Patch Brigade, they were not entirely under my command at the time.  I had to break one of the basic rules that bound their behavior in order to send them on a mission against the king's command.  Because I did not specify how to deal with Wisp, they took their own liberties.  When I received word from Tyvel, I was greatly upset.  She was a fine warrior, and did not deserve what was done to her.”

That was, I realized, the closest he would ever come to feeling sorry about what had happened to Wisp, my sister at heart.  It was not enough, and in truth, I knew, he could never do enough to make up for what had been done to her.  That he had not ordered the atrocities committed did little to alleviate his responsibility in the outcome, or my anger over that outcome.

“How did you use Tyvel to spy on us?  I thought he was the king's advisor.”  I asked next, for my mind had gone numb, and I was simply trying to gather as much information as I could.  I had a questioning nature, and when I could do nothing else, I could always ask a question.

“The king thought so as well.  In that way, I used him to spy on both of you.  In truth, I had long ago stolen the third box of binding, and Tyvel's sleeping body.  I kept the body hidden away in a place only I knew of.  For Tyvel there was no greater fear than losing his existence, so the only thing I needed to do to ensure his cooperation was to threaten to kill his body if he did not serve me faithfully.  He agreed readily enough.

“I tasked him with convincing you to kill the king on my behalf so that I could capture the land, and bend it to my whim.  Of course, you foolishly went off course and had yourself damaged by the Kaziem Wolves.”  He looked at me, his red eyes sharp and attentive.  “I see though, that word of your injuries was severely overstated.  You are far more powerful than you were last time we met.”

Any hope I'd maintained of keeping that information a secret, I realized, was gone in that moment.  It wasn't the first time that Lucidil has seen easily through one of my deceptions.  He seemed almost unnaturally skilled at judging the capabilities of those around him.

“I had never intended for you to be trapped in the dungeons for four years, but after your injury, and your failure with the king, there was little I could do.  I had my own plans to pursue and other avenues by which to obtain my goals.  It was a long, hard road, but I've managed to take the throne for myself.  Now, if I can just destroy the Hungering, I can finally bring about the era of peace we all desire.”

I had trouble believing that the red-eyed warrior before me would ever be satisfied with an era of peace, or that he was even aware of the proper way to obtain such an idealistic world.  Lucidil was a barely chained beast, and I did not think a world of peace had any place for his kind. If it did not have a place for his kind, nor did it have one for mine.  Fighting, it seemed, was all I knew.  I had come too far from the young apprentice of lore I had once been, and for me there could never be a return.  I had tried to escape it all, but fate had drawn me back to the battlefield.

Before I could ask any more questions, a face I had not seen in a long time entered the tent, though it was far changed from how I remembered it, and not for the better.  Ethaniel entered, tall and fierce, but his fatherly expression was missing from his features.  The calm and relaxed face I remembered had been replaced by a terrifying countenance unlike anything I had seen before.  Two separate sets of eyes gazed at me.  The black eyes, tinged with a hint of deep blue, I recognized, but above those were a set of gray, almost smoky eyes on his horned forehead.  Those shadowy eyes seemed to cry a black mist that vaporized into the air as it swept from those alien orifices.  I had never seen a Knight, or any other creature for that matter, with a set of eyes like that, and I stepped back involuntarily, my hand going to my sword.

“What have you become?”  I heard Malice's voice, a note of fear in it.  Those strange, gray-smoke eyes considered me with such dark intent that I felt rooted to the ground.

The blue in his Knight's eyes seemed to have faded, so that, if I had not known it should be there, I might not have noticed it at all.  Was that the cost of these new extra eyes he wore?  Ethaniel seemed changed, and not just physically, but it had been a long time since last I'd encountered him.  It was possible that time had changed him, and not the newest strange addition to his body.

“I have become the tool of necessity.”  Ethaniel answered Malice, his four eyes dissecting her with their harsh gaze.

“There is much I must explain yet.”  Lucidil said from the other side of his desk.  I couldn't have agreed with him more.  Many things needed explaining, but I doubted that it would be possible to clarify everything.

No sooner had those last words left Lucidil's lips, than another faintly familiar figure came through the flap in the tent.  She was taller than any of the Knights in the room, and powerfully muscled.  She moved with a grace and femininity that denied her muscular nature.  Her hair was a pale blue, as though touched softly by the moon on a bright night.  Her eyes were like liquid silver, flowing with energy and life.  I had first seen her at the king's side long ago, and here she stood before me again.  She was every bit as impressive as she had been the first time, an ashen skinned woman of a race I'd never encountered, larger than any legend.

“Ethaniel, Telistera, thank you for coming on such short notice.  It is vital that we update Malice and Noble on the situation.  They know very little about what has been happening here.  Malice, Noble, the tall, silver-eyed beauty is Telistera, a friend from across the sea.  She brought us the first solid information about the Hungering.  Telistera, these are two of our finest warriors.  Knights whose names will live on long after they have gone, Noble and Malice.”  He indicated us each in turn as he made the introductions.

“Telistera, since you know the most about our enemy, please tell us your story first.  You'll have to start at the beginning, since Malice and Noble know nothing of the events that have happened here over the last six years, or those events in history which have led us to this point.”  Weaver handed out orders easily, like the king that he had become.

Telistera bowed deeply to Lucidil, and then turned to face Malice and me.  Her silver eyes were almost hypnotic to stare at, as was the surprising amount of flesh exposed by her strange armor.  It hardly seemed an effective covering at all.  It surprised me that she wore so little in the harsh cold weather of winter.

She spoke in a sing-song voice, with an accent that was both heavy, and somehow airy and light, caressing the words even as it made them seem sharp and harsh.  “I shall start at the beginning.  This all began a thousand years ago. . .”  Her story unfolded.

This story takes place in a village near the Rakaash Mountains in the west of our land, a place nearly a year's journey across the ocean from here, and far across the land from even our nearest shores.  It is this place from which the Hungering spring, and to my people, the place from which all evil is born.

Our people, the Tett, had always called them the cave fay.  They were pale skinned creatures, with glowing blue eyes, who kept mostly to themselves, crawling through their intricate tunnel systems, and living a life separate from our own.  We rarely saw them, and never interacted with them.  They left us alone, and so we did them the same favor.  It had been that way for as long as my people could remember, and it seemed it would remain that way forever.  No one feared the cave fay, for their eyes were filled with peace, and their faces were empty and harmless.  In fact, some of us believed that seeing one while on a long journey was a good omen.

We lived in a land of lush and fertile life where everything grew, and we wanted for nothing so long as we kept to our lore of the land.  The Tett and the cave fay were the only peoples of our land, which we called Tett O Sut, or The Peoples Paradise.  Our greatest fears were the summer storms, and our only enemies were those we made for ourselves.  We trained in combat, but not because we warred, only because it was a sport to us, and it honed our skills at the hunt.  The hunt and those skills involved with it were our most valued cultural traits.

As a rite of passage, our people would send a group of young men and women out into the wilds of the mountain lands to live on their own for the span of one moon’s phase, or 45 days.  We had done this for years, and no ill had ever befallen the youths. It was their chance to make their own way in the world, and to learn about the secrets of grown men and women.  Many a bonding pair came back after that month.  Such was the way of our carefree people, and such - we assumed - it would always remain.

The chieftain wished his only daughter a safe journey that year, eager for her to join the ranks of adults, excited at the possibility of having grandchildren to which he might impart his many years of wisdom.  It was with a high heart he saw the band of fifty children off into the wilderness.  They departed, packs on back, and spears in hand, and the village went back to its daily routine, certain in the safety of their precious offspring.  Our world was not one that knew evil at that time.

You must understand; we raised our children to be huntsmen and woodsmen from the moment they were able to walk.  By the age of fourteen or fifteen, not one of them was at risk in our lands, and a grouping of them was every bit as safe as if they were a group of adults.  There should have been nothing to worry about, but as the month dwindled, and no youths returned- for usually one or two would come back early, with news of a marriage or a grand hunting story - my ancestors' worries began to grow.  Still, they waited.  For two more weeks they left the children to their own means, certain that they must have simply become distracted and decided to stay out longer, but a week after they were due back, fears were growing.

None of the children returned.  The Chieftain made a decision then.  He said unto his people, “We shall send our ten best hunters into the woods.  They will find what is keeping the children,” For they still believed the children to be alive and well, simply unable to return for some reason beyond their reckoning.  “And bring them back to us.”  Our huntsmen left the village.

They were led by a man named Orthisius.  Orthisius was the strongest man of the village, an unparalleled hunter and tracker, and a living legend in his time.  He had felled a great boar, a monster larger than even your war sows, with naught but a knife and his brawn.

The entire village felt at ease knowing that it would be he who searched for the children, for if anyone could help them return safely, they knew it would be him.  Indeed, Orthisius found the trail of the children almost immediately, and began the process of tracking.  Even though the trail was old, his keen eyes and trained senses lead him from sign to sign effortlessly.

It took the better part of four days for the hunters from the village to trace the entire trail, but when they did, they came upon a horror they had never anticipated.  High upon the mountains, deep within the land of rock and wood - lands sacred to the Tett - they came upon the clearing in which the children had chosen to make their camp.  Little remained of the camp that had been built by the children.  The rickety structures of branch and leaf were burned or trampled, and the supplies sent with the children were strewn about the clearing.  The entire camp site was littered with piles of picked clean bones, not a one with a scrap of flesh remaining.  There were stakes buried in the earth around a pit that had held a fire, and there were singed bones hanging from those stakes.  The huntsmen, none of whom had children on the rite of passage that year, were still wrought with despair.

It took them a long time, but the huntsmen found fifty skulls, though there was no hope of righting the mess of other bones and debris from the camp.  They did what they could, and dug a large, deep grave in which to lay all the children to rest.

As they did, they noticed that the bones showed signs of teeth marks and tool scratches.  It was as though the children had been attacked by other Tett, felled and eaten.  It was a ghastly thought, and one that did not seem to match the scene they'd found.  Orthisius did not believe the children had been attacked by other Tett – it simply was not any of our people’s way.

“Such has never happened before, and these children were all adept fighters.  Of the fifty, some would have escaped if they were attacked by some other tribe of Tett.  The enemy must have come fast, and they must have been completely overwhelmed.”  He said to the others, but though his reasoning was sound, our people knew of no creature of the land that would do such a thing. We had lived in peace for generations, and the Tett would never turn on each other.

Defeated in spirit, Orthisius and the band of hunters began their trek back down the mountain to their village, knowing that they would have to deliver a terrible burden of bad news to the chieftain and their people.  Not only were the village's children dead, whatever had killed them had escaped and was still wandering the mountains.  This fact also made the hunters nervous, for they were far less a number than the fifty children.  Even as skilled as they were, they were not so certain they could defeat an enemy that had killed fifty Tett trained warriors.

On the second day of their forced march back to camp, one of their scouts spotted something moving through the woods, and the entire party called a halt.  Everyone sat tensely gripping their spears, fearing that at any moment whatever had devoured the children might find and devour them as well.  Those moments waiting for the scout to make clear sight of what was moving through the woods were terrible, but finally he called back.

“It is only a cave fay.  The way forward is clear.”  The relief was evident in his voice.  The hunters moved on, now more confident in themselves, and feeling foolish after letting the cave fay frighten them so.  They all knew those creatures were harmless.  Indeed, the men boasted that their return journey was now blessed, though the news they brought was not.

Night descended, and the huntsmen made an uneasy camp, for they could not walk day and night, though all of them would have liked to.  Walking at night could make a dangerous place of their normally friendly forest.  A branch hidden in the darkness could turn an ankle, or gouge out an eye.  Guards were posted and the camp rested uneasily.

Orthisius was awoken by someone shaking his arm in the night, and he jumped to his feet in an instant, reaching for his spear.  When he saw it was only one of the men on watch, and not some monster from the dark, he breathed a sigh of relief.  His relief, though, was short lived.

“There is something out there, in the dark.  Lots of them.  They have red eyes, and they're watching me.”  The man said in a hushed whisper.  Orthisius's first impulse was to tell the man he had imagined it, but he remembered only too well the fate of the children in the mountains.

“Quietly rouse the others.”  He told the man on guard duty, and he brought himself up, swinging on his pack and preparing his spear.  He walked to the edge of the camp and gazed out.  The darkness gazed back at him, red eyes sparkling in the night.  He had not wanted to believe the other hunter, but there they were.  All around the camp red eyes burned, watching, hungry.  Orthisius felt real fear for the first time in his life.

The creatures with the red eyes charged then, though the night watchman had not yet roused all of the people in the camp.

“They're cave fay!”  One man yelled, but his voice turned into a terrible gurgle as his life was slashed out of him by vicious claws.  They came in a horde - a tide of red, fiery eyes, charging at the small group of huntsmen.  Those huntsmen, however, were the villages best and strongest, and they fought back, wielding their spears with trained proficiency.  They would not be felled so easily as the children.

The cave fay, those peaceful underground dwelling creatures, had changed.  Their eyes burned red and empty, and their demeanor had become terrible and violent.  No one who saw them, eyes blazing red, would ever be able to think of them as peaceful, docile creatures again.  Their teeth gnashed and tore at any bit of flesh within their range, and they came on and on, a deadly tide of blood lust.

The party of huntsmen was almost entirely destroyed, but Orthisius and one other man, Reamis, managed to escape.  They ran into the night, heading for their home village, knowing that if they did not spread the warning, everyone would be killed.  Word had to get out at any cost.  The red eyes did not chase them through the woods, at least not that either of the men could detect, but they both ran as though death was pushing through the wilderness just behind them.  Some would later call them cowards, but their actions would save many.

Orthisius was the faster runner, and, after nearly a full day of running, came upon his village just as dusk was deepening into night.  He ran immediately for the chieftain's house, though all who saw him soon followed after, eagerly pressing for news of what had befallen the children.  The chieftain, hearing all the commotion, was at his door before the tired hunter even arrived.

“Chieftain,” Said Orthisius, “the cave fay have turned against us.  They devoured our children, and then attacked our hunting party!”

The Chieftain couldn't believe what he'd heard.  “You're lying!”  He accused Orthisius.  “The cave fay are peaceful creatures, and a terrible fate such as that could never befall our precious children.”  So terrible was Orthisius's news that the chieftain refused to accept it as reality.  In his mind, he replayed himself sending his treasured daughter off into the woods with a smile on his face.

“You have been a good provider for us all these years, Orthisius, but I will not tolerate such falsities from you any further.  Do not use your tongue to spread such terrible lies ever again or I will have it cut out.”  The chieftain warned, his indignation and fear convincing him of the truth of his own words.

“Sir, I have indeed been a good provider, but on my life I am telling the truth.  I have seen this with my own eyes.  When Reamis arrives, he will confirm what I have said.”  Orthisius insisted.

The chieftain was furious.  “Orthisius is to be strung to a poll at the entrance to the village.  We will wait until the others return from the hunt.  If they do not confirm his story, he will be publicly punished for his hateful lies.”

Orthisius stood aghast, his chest heaving as he struggled to bring in air after running for so long.  His entire body ached, and he could do nothing to resist as the men of the village grabbed him forcefully by the arms, and dragged him off to be strung up outside of the village.  He fought, and he screamed the truth, but it won him only angry beatings, and an eventual gag.  The chieftain's word was law, and if he said that Orthisius was lying, the others believed it.  They were angry with Orthisius for saying such terrible things about their children, and eager for the hunters to return and tell them some form of truth they could better come to terms with.

It was another twelve hours before Reamis finally came running from the woods, panting heavily, his face flushed with exertion.  As he came within sight of the town, his eyes immediately caught the figure of Orthisius slumped in unconsciousness, hanging strung up by his arms from the poll generally reserved for festive flags on occasions of celebration.  He slowed his run and approached cautiously.  The villagers gathered around him as he came nearer, and finally he found himself face to face with the village chieftain.  The chieftain's eyes were wild and frightening.

“Reamis, Orthisius has come to this village spouting lies, telling us that the hunting party and our children were murdered and eaten by the cave fay.  Tell us that this is not so.”  The chieftain demanded.

Reamis was not a stupid man.  He had run with the hunters for a long time, and could read the situation before him as well as he could read any forest sign.  His eyes gazed at the strung up form of Orthisius only once before he looked back at the chieftain, meeting the man's crazed eyes.  His mind churned, and finally he opened his mouth to speak.

“The children found a well spring with water that bubbles, chilled and fresh, and tastes of sweet fruit.  They did not wish to leave it behind, and when we found them the hunters chose to stay there as well.”  He said, knowing that his betrayal doomed Orthisius to death, but knowing just as well that telling the truth would change naught, but add his own head to the pile.

The chieftain laughed heartily, a great smile spreading across his face, along with a look of purest relief.  That he would believe such an outlandish story, thought Reamis, was proof enough of his madness.  Such springs did, in fact, exist, but a party of fifty would never find such a spring and not send word.  They generally bubbled only for a short time before trickling out entirely.

“You see my people," The chieftain called out to the other villagers.  “Orthisius lied to us all.  He wished to keep the spring to himself.  He is sick and his mind is twisted by his greed.  Let this stand as a lesson to you all.”

By this time, Orthisius had awakened, and he watched the proceedings before him with a great sense of betrayal.  His eyes met those or Reamis, but Reamis would not hold his gaze.  Orthisius was a brave hunter, and a great man, but he did not understand Reamis' position.  He saw only his friend's betrayal.  Orthisius hung his head, shamed and doomed.

“Tonight, at the hour of deepest night, we shall have a cleansing fire, and send this sick man back into the sky where he might be purified by the rain!”  The chieftain screamed in exultation, and those of the village cheered and rejoiced.  Reamis did not join in their cheer.  Instead, he bode his time and waited for night fall.

Darkness fell over Tett O Sut, and the people of Orthisius's village began to gather for the celebration to be held later in the night.  They carried dried wood from all about the village and prepared for a massive bonfire.  The peaceful village of the mountain valley, in its fear, had become blood thirsty and terrible.  Reamis, though, did not take part in the festivities.  When they came to him, wishing him to join in the celebration, he told them that his travels had exhausted him, and that he would need to sleep to recover.  The villagers were not happy to hear this, but they let Reamis go, too caught up in the excitement of the coming evening spectacle.

Reamis was sickened by it all, and still haunted by the glow of red eyes that had come for the hunting party in the night.  He was indeed tired, but he knew there would be no sleep for him.  He gathered his meager possessions, two of his finest spears, and a pack with some travel supplies inside of it, and he made his way out of his hut and into the village.  The night was deep black, full of shadows, teaming with darkness.  For Reamis, a skilled huntsmen, moving without being seen was not difficult.  He made his way through the village until he came to the pole upon which Orthisius still hung.

The villagers had left him unguarded and alone, hanging painfully from his arms.  It had never occurred to them that someone might free the man they were sacrificing to their fear.  Reamis drew his hunting knife, tossed the blade at the poll, so that it sunk in, point first, at about the height which Orthisius's hands were bound above his head.  The vibrating blade alerted Orthisius.

“Who is there?  Heed my warning!  They come with eyes of fire!”  He called out, and Reamis cursed beneath his breath.  He should have anticipated the bound man's reaction.

“Quiet, Orthisius, it is Reamis.  I've come to free you, but if you keep making so much noise, the village will be down upon us before I can cut the ropes that bind you.”  Reamis called quietly up the pole, even as he began his ascent of the tall wooden beam.

“Reamis?”  Orthisius's voice called back down at the other man.  He was surprised.  Orthisius had believed himself betrayed.

“Yes, now prepare yourself to drop.  When I cut these ropes, there will be nothing holding you up.”  Reamis answered.  There were four ropes to cut.  Orthisius was tied at each wrist separately, and then banded twice around his arms so that they could not move at all away from the center pole.  The rope was tied so tightly that Reamis could tell it had broken Orthisius's skin in multiple places.  Reamis began working at the ropes.

“My friend, I thank you, but what is the point?  We can save no one.  They will not listen.  It is better that I die here, amongst my people.”  Orthisius lamented quietly.

“Our village did not listen, but others will, Orthisius.  You are a legend in these parts, and those not in fear of grief will hear your words, and they will take up arms.  You who have always striven to be a great man; to do great things for the Tett. This is your time.”  Reamis freed the last of Orthisius bonds and the huntsmen of legend slipped free and collapsed to the ground.  His feet gave way at the impact and his arms held no better, having been constricted.  They were numb from long hours of being bound.  He came slowly back to his feet.

“You are right, Reamis. I had forgotten that there is more to the world than what lies in this village.”  He looked sadly out over the place that had been his home all of his life.  “I wanted to save them. . .”

“I know, Orthisius.  The chieftain, he is consumed by his grief.  He has convinced himself that if he can stifle the news of the truth, then he can change what has already come to pass.  It is madness.  You can see it burning in his eyes.  I saw it when I spoke to him.”  Reamis said, already beginning his march from the village, Orthisius in tow.  “The townspeople will not go against the word of the chieftain.

“We will make as much distance as we can this night.  We can cut a straight path to the village in the next valley.  We will warn them, rest while we might, and then we will move on and warn another village.  For our home, we have done all that we can.  Our words are meaningless here, a pebble in a stream.  Perhaps if we spread word far enough, it will come back here, and the stream will heed the will of a thousand pebbles.”  Reamis had thought about his decision to leave the village since he had returned with news of the doomed children.  It had been a difficult choice to make, but he had seen the necessity.  He hoped only that Orthisius would see his point of view as well.

Finally, the great huntsmen nodded.  Orthisius had seen the light.  Together the two men began to run.  When the village found Orthisius missing, there would be trouble.  Neither man was sure whether or not the chieftain would send hunters, but as long as it was a possibility, the two tired men had to keep moving.

Thus was begun the great Call to Arms of Orthisius and Reamis, a legend of the people of the Tett.  The two friends ran from village to village over the course of the next six years, warning every group of people they encountered of the threat coming from the mountains, and it was well they did, for not even a year after they began their run, the cave fay came down from their rocky home, a tide of terrible hunger and death.

The Tett were just beginning to come together, forming war parties, and establishing a central method of communication.  Individual chieftains assembled to discuss what was best for their people as a whole, and all of them looked to Orthisius and Reamis for their answers.

“We must bind together, forming a wall of interlaced stone that no enemy can push through!  If we do not, those creatures, those hungering masses, will devour us all.  Death to the Hungering!”  Orthisius's message to the people was clear.  They must unite or perish.  The Tett listened.  A line was formed, brave warriors from all the villages coming forward to stand and fight against the horde, and behind them stood even more of the Tett, for our people came in great numbers.  When one of us fell, another came forward and took their place.

For a time it seemed we would be successful.  We held the Hungering at bay, pushing them back when possible, and never letting them advance.  However, this constant battle waged on for years, and even our most hardened warriors became tired.  The cave fay, those creatures which Orthisius had named the Hungering, kept on coming.  If we killed one, ten more stepped forward, each new set more skilled and dangerous than the last. They learned, and grew more deadly.   Our line could not maintain, and we were forced to fall back, losing more of our lands, and more of our people to the terrible horde.

We were desperate for help.  We needed a new way to fight our enemy before we were wiped out entirely.  Our salvation came in the form of an old Chieftain from one of the villages furthest from the center land.  He called himself Uwian, and said he was the protector of lost knowledge.  He bade Orthisius and Reamis come to him in private, so that he might impart information that would aid in the war.  Orthisius and Reamis did not wish to leave the front lines, where they had fought hard from the very first day of battle, but they knew that if they did not find a new way to wage war, the Tett would be consumed.

So it was that Orthisius and Reamis left the front line and traveled to the remote village of the chieftain Uwian.  There they would discover the secret to the salvation of the Tett.

Uwian had long guarded ancient secrets sealed in two scrolls kept beneath the chieftain's hut for countless generations.  The care of those scrolls, and the secrets they held, had been passed down from chieftain to chieftain over the course of the history of the Tett, and had finally come into Uwian's possession forty years before.  He had been instructed to never open those scrolls unless a time of great crisis occurred, and so had thought his scrolls would remain sealed for the extent of his life.  The Hungering changed all of that.  As the Tett fell further and further back, losing more and more of their bravest warriors to the enemy horde, it became clear to Uwian that his people's time was running out.  However, he would not open the scrolls on his own.  He knew that such a terrible secret should never be contained by just one man.

Orthisius and Reamis approached Uwian's hut with skepticism, but also with a frail hope.  Both were battle weary, scarred and tired from years of hefting the spear.  The days of the hunt seemed long lost for them, buried beneath the endless war.

Uwian waited within the darkness of his hut, a single torch burning, and the recovered scrolls sitting on the table before him. There were two scrolls, and each was sealed with the original blood wax seal that had been placed on them when they were first rolled.  The old chieftain wondered, and not for the first time, if he was making the correct choice in opening the ancient secrets.  He had been warned that such magics as they contained could be either a blessing or a curse, depending entirely upon those who wielded the power.

Orthisius and Reamis stepped into his tent, and he looked for the first time upon the two men, strong huntsmen, who had become legends over the course of their own lives.  Uwian needed only to look into their tired eyes, their sad faces, and his doubts fled from him.  If ever the Tett needed the ancient knowledge, he knew that it was time.  He bade the two warriors take a seat on the floor before his low table, and they did so without speaking a word.  All in the little hut sensed the importance of what was about to transpire.  Uwian picked up the first scroll, and with the utmost respect and care, broke the seal.  A wisp of blue fire consumed the wax, and the paper unrolled, exposing the first of the two great secrets.

Those three assembled men, Uwian, Orthisius and Reamis, read the two scrolls, and learned the processes by which they could save the Tett.  The magic detailed came in two parts.  The first scroll described the process by which one person could be strengthened through the sacrifice of their own longevity.  For every year of life given, the individual could gain a degree of power, making them stronger, faster, and tireless.  This was a dangerous magic.  Such power, in the wrong hands, could create an unstoppable killing force, whose only downfall would be its own shortened life span.

The second scroll, however, was the more frightening of the two.  It described a way by which one person could take years from the lives of another, or several others, and add them to their own life force.  The effect would not lengthen the life span of the person accepting the years, but would grant them additional strength and power for every year of life taken in this way.  However, it was limited in that only those who willingly gave their life force could be used for the magic.

Uwian, Orthisius, and Reamis all saw that these magics could provide the power to save their people, but they also saw that a great possibility for corruption existed.  They knew they would have to find a way to balance the power received so that those monstrous beings created, would not become a greater menace than the monsters they were created to fight.  They thought long and hard on the matter and finally came up with what would later be named the Silver Rules.

A huntsmen who wishes to take up the mantle of power must never have been accused of unusual cruelty, or unaccustomed violence.  They must stand as a pillar of strength, and justice amidst the community.

A huntsmen who wishes to take up the mantle of power must first be willing to sacrifice half of their own remaining life to the cause.  Such a sacrifice shows a conviction of character, and distinctly limits the amount of trouble such a person might create if they did decide to use their powers for ill.

A huntsmen who wishes to take up the mantle of power must first find 100 of their fellows who are willing to give up 5 years of life each, in order to grant them power.  Such a sacrifice, from so many people, shows that those people have confidence in the warrior, and believe he will serve their cause with nobility.  This assures that a corrupt man will never obtain such dangerous power.

Word was spread throughout the lands of the Tett, and volunteers came in, though not as quickly as Reamis and Orthisius had hoped.  The prospect of losing half their lives scared many men and women away.  In the end, twenty candidates, and their two thousand supporters, came forward, not including both Reamis and Orthisius who also agreed to take on the mantle of power.  They would not force a sacrifice on others that they were not willing to make themselves.  Two thousand and two hundred men and women, along with the twenty two chosen warriors, came for the magical ceremony.  It was a massive number of Tett to assemble in one place, and it took no few from the front lines, which worried all involved.  Some held less confidence in the success of the magic than others, and all feared that the weakening of their line would spell the end for them, rather than lead them to salvation.

Uwian began the magical rights quickly, knowing that those who'd given their time to the cause were needed elsewhere.  There was no celebration to be had, no preparation beforehand.  There was not time for such foolishness.  The chieftain came before the assembled huntsmen and he called out to them in a voice that boomed with importance.

“Who would go first into the place from which you may not return?”  His words were not meant to frighten, only to state the uncertainty of the day.  The magic that they were about to perform, had not been tried in the lifetimes of any man alive.

Many people looked to Orthisius, expecting him to stand first and volunteer his life, but it was not that most famous of huntsmen who stepped forward.  Reamis stood proudly, pressing through the throng, his hundred volunteers stepping forward with him.  There was pride on the faces of his supporters, for Reamis proved himself brave and worthy of the life they were each willing to give.

“Follow me.”  Uwian said, gesturing for the group to stay close to him.  They walked into the woods, beyond the limits of the village, until they reached a wide clearing.  There was a brazier burning in the center.

“Reamis, come with me, the rest of you need only to sit and make yourselves comfortable.  Your part in this is played merely by being present and by having consented to the ritual.”  The chieftain led Uwian to the center of the clearing, and began the magic rite.

“Malice, Noble, you have looked upon me and possibly thought that I am Tett, a prime example of my people, but that is not the case.  The Tett are like those of the kingdom of men, for the most part. We are generally shorter, and our skin is, indeed, the same ashen color as my own, but we have the same eyes as do your people, and hair in an assortment of similar shades.  These silver eyes, this dominating stature, and my hair of spun moonlight, these are the effects of the secrets of Tett magic. It is not my place to divulge those secrets, and I do not know all of them, or even a good portion of them, anyway.  I can tell you that the process is painful, but not long lasting.”

When Reamis stood up from his transformation, his silver eyes blazing in the light of early dawn, his muscles sleek and firm as they had never been, and his hair blowing about him as though he'd captured the essence of the moon in its strands, those assembled people gasped as one, and bowed to him as though he were a god.

“Do not bow to me.”  Reamis said to those who'd given him a piece of their life.  He dropped to one knee, and he bowed his own head to them.  “It is I who must thank you for giving me what is necessary to fight our enemy.  I am but one man, yet each of you has given me a precious part of your life.  I shall do all in my power to make sure you never regret that choice.  I will fight a thousand years’ worth of life, for the five hundred that has been sacrificed.”

The people cheered for him then, though it only seemed to embarrass the silver-eyed warrior.  Reamis was stout of heart, and strong, but he was not accustomed to praise, nor did he expect it.  They departed the clearing together, and the other volunteers got their first look at what was to become of them.

“How do you feel?”  A voice called.

“How strong are you?”  Another questioned.

Reamis could not be sure himself.  He felt much as he had before the magics had affected his body, but it was as though all limits had fallen away from him.  He had feared the core of his being might change, yet he still felt like Reamis, only stronger in every physical way.  He decided to test himself.

He ran, pushing his body forward, and found the world blurring with speed around him, his legs pumping with such vigor that it seemed he almost flew across the ground, rather than moving over it.  The assembled people were awed by his display of speed, and even Reamis laughed with an uncontrollable excitement.  To move faster than the wind and to feel so boundless was a rush he hadn't anticipated.  Reamis approached Orthisius, who stared at his changed friend with a mixture of apprehension and fear.

“You've become something different.”  Orthisius said quietly.

Reamis shook his head.  “I've only become stronger.  I am still Reamis the huntsmen.”

Orthisius nodded, and slowly smiled at his friend.  “Good, because our world would not be worth saving without the likes of Reamis the huntsmen.”

The two friends clasped hands, though Reamis had to check his strength.  He remembered what it had been like to clasp hands with Orthisius before, how the man had almost seemed to crush his fingers every time they did so.  It now seemed to Reamis as though he were holding hands with a frail child.  He could only guess as to how much stronger he had become.

Uwian spoke up loudly, cutting off the chatter that had begun to fill the village.  “Who will go next?”  He asked.

There was no shortage of volunteers this time.  All twenty-one of the men stepped forward, eager to become like Reamis, the silver-eyed warrior.  Now that they knew the process would not kill them, and had seen how effective it was, their fears were alleviated, and their hopes high.  For the first time in as long as any of them could remember, there was a reason to believe that the Hungering might be defeated.  With the silver-eyed warriors, the Tett found their hope again.

Uwian performed his magic rite non-stop throughout the day and well into the night, never taking a moment to rest between rites.  Each time he returned from another group, he looked more and more worn and tired.  By the time he reached the last of the twenty-two groups, he looked as though he could barely stand on his feet.  Great dark circles had formed beneath his eyes, and his skin was pale and cold to the touch.  He, however, insisted that the process be completed that night, and so, out of necessity, the warriors of the Tett let Uwian continue his work.  Time was short, and they had faith in the old chieftain.

With the twenty-second silver-eyed warrior done, Uwian collapsed.  The last of the new warriors picked him up gently, and carried him back to his hut.  The chieftain's breath was ragged, and he looked far older than he had when he began the process.  Orthisius and Reamis stood at his bed side all through the night, finding that they did not need to sleep any longer.

Uwian woke just before the coming of a new dawn, though his eyes seemed far away.

“We have hope again?”  He asked in a frail voice.

“Yes, Chieftain Uwian.  You have given us hope.”  Reamis told the man, taking the chieftain's frail hands in his massive powerful ones.

“Hope is our best weapon.  So long as we hope, we can fight.”  The chieftain said softly.  “Put the scrolls back in their place, and make sure they are not touched again until they are needed.  . . . I must go now.”  The chieftain closed his eyes, and breathed out his last sigh.

For every ceremony performed, the chieftain had given one year of his own life to the cause.  He had told none of them of this, and the truth of it was not found until later, as Reamis was in the process of sealing the scrolls away.  Uwian was given a warrior's sending, and laid to rest at the head of his village's burial ground, above even the founder of the village.

“The greatest bravery is so often not to be found on the battlefield. . .”  Reamis said as the last of the earth was placed over the chieftain.

Our warriors returned to the front lines, twenty-two silver-eyed battlers among them.  Many feared it would not be enough.  There were only twenty-two of them, and even some of those who'd taken the silver eyes wondered what so few could do against such a massive enemy force.  They had underestimated their own potential.

The revitalized forces of the Tett slammed into the weakening front line of the Hungering as though the very rock of the land had risen up. They were unstoppable.  The Hungering lines fell back.  It would be more accurate to say that they were cut back, for they gave no ground so long as they lived.  The Hungering do not retreat, no matter how badly outclassed they become.  The Tett pressed them all the way back to the base of mountains from which they'd first risen, but there they could go no further.

They were only twenty-two men, but they fought like a thousand, and anywhere they went, their fellow Tett fought like demons as well.  Those silver eyes had become a beacon to which the people could rally, a symbol that had long been needed.

Not even a month after their creation, our new warriors had driven back an enemy that had been slowly pushing the Tett from their home for years, but despite having made ground, there was still a problem that no one knew how to solve.

“They keep coming.  We kill thousands of them, but thousands more pour out of the rock.  How many of them could there be?”  Orthisius's voice was angry, his nerves frayed.  They had ground the Hungering against the rocks of the mountain for nearly two weeks.  He spoke before the chieftains, and before the other silver-eyed warriors.

“We cannot defeat an enemy that stems from the ground like water from a spring.”  Another silver-eye said, echoing Orthisius's statement.  A general murmur of disquiet flowed through the assembled men, all of whom were tired and eager to be done with the fighting that had waged for so long.  Everyone was keenly aware that their new warriors only lived a short period of time, and once they were gone, the Hungering would be at an advantage again.  Twenty years was a long time, but the Tett would not be able to fight for that long.  Not if they wished to retain some semblance of their society.

“We could build a massive wall around the mountains, and seal them in.”  One of the chieftain's suggested.

“They are tunnelers. We can't hope to trap them in such a manor.  They dig faster and more efficiently than any ten of our men.” intoned one of the silver-eyed warriors.  “No wall has held them yet, why would we think that had changed?”

A hush fell across the assembled men as they tried in vain to think of some solution to their problem.  For a time no one spoke.

“We will simply grind them down until none of them remain.”  Called yet another of the newly risen warriors.  “They cannot come out of their holes forever.  If we keep killing them. . .”

“That is not an option.”  Reamis' voice rose for the first time.  “For every hundred of them we kill, we lose five or six men of ours as well.  Do you really wish to gamble on who has more men to lose in this war?  I do not think it will be us, and even if it was, what would be left of the Tett after wearing our strongest and bravest warriors against the stone of war?  A blade will only hone for so long before it is blunted forever.  I fear that is our future if we must keep fighting.  We need to end this war.”

“And what would you suggest, Reamis?”  A chieftain's voice called, and others joined the call, all pressing Reamis for an answer.  If he was to question the only feasible solution they'd heard, then certainly he must have an idea of his own.  Indeed, Reamis had come up with a solution.

“We must go into the mountain and kill the leader of the Hungering.  An army cannot fight without its leader.”  Reamis said with a certainty that he tried to convey to his fellows with the conviction of his voice.

“The Hungering have no leader.  They are just monsters.”  One of the silver-eyes called.

“That isn't true.”  Reamis snapped.  “They attack in an ordered fashion, though it is often childish and haphazard, they show organization.  That means that something is guiding their efforts.  If we kill the guide, we kill the problem.”

The murmur in the room rose to a ruckus as the silver-eyed warriors and the chieftains argued over the possibility of a Hungering ruler.

“. . . flanked our forces at the river . . .”

“. . . could have sworn they were in a formation . . .”

“. . . impossible, monsters . . .”

Reamis sat quietly, listening to the arguments of his fellows.  He believed in his assessment of the situation, but he had to have the support of the chieftains, and of the other warriors like himself, if he was to act on what he believed.  Orthisius stood, as ever, at his side.  The warrior of legend leaned in close, and whispered to Reamis.

“Do you really believe that they have a ruler, Reamis?”  The living legend asked.

Reamis looked at his friend, meeting silver eye to eye.  “Yes.  I know it in my heart.”

Orthisius nodded.  “If Reamis knows it, than Orthisius knows it.”  He said quietly, before turning to the arguing groups before him.

“It is true.”  Orthisius called, silencing the raised voices.  “They have fought as though organized at every turn.  I believe that they do have a ruler . . . a central chieftain, or something similar.  If we kill that which guides them, they will lose their will to fight, and we can put an end to this long misery.”

For a moment there was silence, and Reamis watched in wonder as the suggestion he'd given, and seen them almost reject, was suddenly considered more seriously.  Such was Orthisius's way.  What he said, people always took at face value.  Reamis did not let it trouble him that his word had not been enough, instead he marveled at the wonder that was Orthisius.  Others began to nod their ascent.

“We kill their chieftain, and we win!”  Someone called out, and soon other voices were raised in support.  The entire group was taken with the idea, and Reamis knew that there was hope again, for he held great confidence in his assessment of the situation.

The chieftains and the silver-eyed warriors clamored together to work out the details of what they would do next.   It was decided that twenty of the twenty-two sacred warriors would come together and forge their way into the mountain.  Fighting as a single force, they might be able to breach the line of Hungering that held back their army as a whole.  Of course, their entrance would be buried behind them, as the Hungering surged forever forward, but if they could get through, and survive long enough to find the ruler of their enemy, they might stand some chance of freeing the Tett from the terrible war that had gone on for years.

They wasted no time in making preparations.  The silver-eyed warriors were given one night to prepare themselves.  All twenty-two of them wished to make the journey into the mountain, but two would need to remain behind to support the ground troupes.  The two chosen to stay behind did not begrudge the others their positions, for they too had important parts to play, but all were curious as to what lay beneath the great mountain.

That night there was a celebration in the camp of the Tett.  Every man not fighting took a moment to enjoy the good cheer.  Those to go beneath the mountain could not indulge themselves, but they did laugh, and mingle with the others.  All of those chosen to descend into the depths knew that, even as powerful as they were, it could be their last night amongst their fellows.  They were going to sink into the heart of darkness, and it seemed unlikely that they would all return.

Every man wished to clasp arms with their heroes, and those heroes did their best to spread the cheer amongst the warriors who would fight at the line.  The silver-eyes knew they might die, but they knew also that many of the men who'd come to see them off might also die.  They lived in uncertain times, and it was their job not only to fight, but to instill in their people both confidence and courage.  If the silver-eyed warriors did not fear going into the mountain, then certainly those fighting above need not fear either.

“I want to thank you for supporting me.”  Reamis said to Orthisius in a rare moment in which they found some quiet.

Orthisius shrugged.  “You have never led me wrong.  When I have fallen, you have always picked me back up, and yet it seems it is always Orthisius who looks like the hero in the end.”  Orthisius gestured to encompass the entire camp.  “These folks are good, hardworking, hard fighting people, but they do not know a real hero when they see one.  If not for you, Reamis, there would be no Orthisius here now.  I have not forgotten.”

It was Reamis' turn to shrug.  “We do what we must as honorable men, and hope that in the end what we have done is judged as right and just.”

Orthisius grinned widely.  “That is why I look to you in times of need, Reamis.  You have a great understanding of the world.  Someday I hope to understand it half as well.”

Reamis laughed.  “I understand nothing.”

Orthisius laughed as well.  “Then we are all in trouble, because I believe you understand more than any of us.”

“Unfortunately, that is the last of the story that is clearly defined by the journals of Orthisius and Reamis.  That night marked the writing of their final entries.  The story from here on out, is pieced together from other accounts.”  Telistera interrupted her story for a moment before continuing once more.

On the following morning, the twenty silver-eyed warriors who were to enter the tunnels of the Hungering, gathered at the front line, looking grim and determined.  All the levity of the night before was gone, and as the last of the Hungering pushed their way back into their tunnels to avoid the daylight, those twenty knew that a difficult journey awaited them.  The burning red eyes could be seen, like a thousand angry torches, watching from the dark entrance to the mountain.

The legendary heroes charged in formation, a blur of graceful motion, spears raised for battle.  They disappeared into the tunnel  For a time the sounds of battle could be heard, and the red eyes vanished as the Hungering engaged our warriors, but soon enough the sounds of fighting passed, and the red lights came back, watching, waiting for anyone else foolish enough to think they might push their way inside the mountain fortress.

The Tett watched, resting during the day, as it was the only time the Hungering eased their attacks.  The brave people could do nothing but wait and hope that the silver-eyed warriors were successful in their endeavor.  The day faded into darkness, and the hordes of Hungering poured forth from their caves again, attacking with a renewed vigor, pushing the Tett line harder than ever before.

The two remaining silver-eyed warriors, those who'd been chosen to stay behind, fought all along the front, pushing back the Hungering at every opportunity, but the mundane forces were not so lucky.  The silver-eyes pushed, and where they were not, the Hungering pushed harder.  The front line began to fall back for the first time since the arrival of the Tett's magic guardians. The chieftains began to worry.  They wondered if their silver-eyed hope had died within the deep earthen caves of the Hungering.  The Tett fought on.

Days passed.  The sunlit hours were filled with hope that the brave twenty who had taken to the earth might re-emerge victorious, but the nights were filled with despair as the heroes failed to materialize and the Hungering pushed harder, and with a terrible renewed vigor.  The days of waiting became weeks, and the despair came even in the hours of light.  If the twenty survived, than certainly they should have accomplished their task by that time, the disheartened Tett warriors thought.

Every night the front line fell further back, until the cave entrances could not even be seen any longer.  With the loss of that spot of land, hope seemed to fade entirely from the fighting men and women of the Tett.  They began to lose ground faster, though the two remaining silver-eyed warrior did their best to keep morale up and to push back at the enemy in the darkness.  They walked among the troops during the lulls in battle, spreading what hope they might, but even they felt the crippling hopelessness that hung like a funeral pall over the peoples of Tett O Sut.

It was on a night more than a month after the twenty had entered the mountain, while the fighting was at its most brutal, that there came an abrupt change in fates.  The Hungering had pressed the Tett to the edge of a river, and were grinding their numbers away against the difficult to cross body of water, when suddenly the red-eyed beasts stopped fighting.  They dropped their weapons, their eyes faded from red to blue, and they began to walk away from the battlefield.  Some few of the Tett still struck at their numbers, cutting down those who did not escape quickly, but the Hungering ignored it all.  They walked away as though they'd never been at war, wandering back into the mountains from which they'd come, until not one of them remained upon the land.

The Tett did not know what had happened, but they did not break the front line.  They restructured their forces and advanced back to the cave fronts.  The caves were black now, no red lights, nor lights of blue, shining from their dark openings.  The tired armies waited, and time began to pass.  As weeks went by with no fighting, some villages began to break off from the army, winding their way down from the mountains and back to their homes.

The silver-eyes, it seemed, had been successful, but would they return from the dark underworld?  A month and a half passed from the time the twenty had last been seen, and only fifty troops remained at the cave entrance, two of them the other silver-eyed fighters, waiting for the return of their comrades.  A motion at the cave's mouth brought everyone to attention.  The two silver-eyes ran forward, spears at the ready.

From the realm of the deepest darkness, Orthisius rose, dragging behind him three large wooden boxes, though where the wood had come from to build the boxes, and how the boxes had been constructed, we would never learn.  The wood was ornate, and covered in intricate carvings, as though torn from some mural of exquisite beauty and detail.  The boxes were each heavy, and constructed with obvious care that they be kept closed.

A tattered figure hung over Orthisius's shoulder, its pale blue hair blowing in the wind.  Orthisius himself looked on the verge of death.  His body was withered and beaten, his flesh gouged and torn, puss and infection flowing from a multitude of wounds.  He crawled upon his knees, dragging himself each step into the light of the full moon that waited above him.  As the two silver-eyes rushed to meet him, Orthisius finally collapsed, and the form slumped over his shoulder, fell to the ground as well.

Reamis lay sprawled where Orthisius had dropped him, his arms open wide as if inviting the sky.  His face was tattered, torn, and hollow so that he was barely recognizable as the man who went into the mountain.  Even as damaged as it was, the once brave man wore a serene expression on his face.  Orthisius spoke, drawing everyone's eyes to him.

“These three boxes contain the king of the Hungering.”  Orthisius said, though the silver-eyed warriors had to lean close to hear his voice.  “Split them up. Bury two at opposite ends of our land, and cast the other as far into the sea as you can.  Let them never be brought together again.  Never open the boxes.”  Orthisius said the words with such vigor, even in his whispered breath, that the silver-eyed warriors and those others gathered around did not dare question what he said.  His message delivered, Orthisius turned to his peaceful friend, casting an arm over the man.

“I told you we would make it, Reamis. You said we were lost, but I told you. . .”  Orthisius's voice faltered, faded, and he never spoke again.

The people of the Tett did as they were instructed.  They split the three boxes up, sending one to each of the furthest points of land, and loading the other onto a ship and sailing it far out to sea.  The boat that sailed to sea never returned, so far did it sail.  Those places where the body was buried on land were dug deep into the earth, and no sign was left of the burying so that no one might ever dig them up out of curiosity.  Those who buried the bodies made no maps, and told no one of where they had gone to dig the graves.  For a time, the Tett lived in peace.

A thousand years passed.  Our people never forgot the stories of the silver-eyed warriors, and the brave Orthisius and Reamis.  It was because we kept those stories so dear to heart that when the first cave fay was spotted with red glowing eyes, we reacted immediately.  We still trained huntsmen, but since the battles of the Hungering, we'd also trained all of our children in the arts of battle.  We thought we were ready when they came, fiery-eyed, out of their caves en-mass, though we did not understand what would make the Hungering rise again.

Our strongest and noblest fighters made the sacrifice, and became new warriors of legend.  We felt confident.  We were ready to repeat the exploits of our past heroes.  The Hungering, though, were not as they had been in our legends.  They seethed forth from the earth as they had before, but they came, this time, atop great black monsters that breathed fire, and fueled their rampages with the very wood of our buildings, and flesh of our military.  The Hungering also brought with them the blue glowing witches whose fire eats through metal, flesh, and bone, each with equal hunger.  The witches have eyes that see from shore to shore.  We tried to press them back, but we could do nothing before this newly risen horde of death.

Even our silver-eyed warriors died, and though we made more, we could not keep back the tide that came down upon us.  The Hungering pushed my people across our homeland, and it was all we could do to retreat fast enough to save any lives as we went.  Finally we implemented a plan to sail across the sea, though it was a plan born of desperation.  We began to build ships at the coast line, great boats to cross the infinite expanse of ocean.  It was better, we thought, to die on the ocean than to be eaten by the enemy.

We finished seven ships, and loaded them with warriors, men, women and children, and we left our land even as the great horde of Hungering fell upon our coast.  We did not know that they had already sailed ships of their own.  We could not have known that their great black “drakes,” could also travel through the endless waters.

Seven ships left our land, but the sea, and the great evils that lay within that dark brine, claimed six of them.  Of the Tett who escaped our homeland, only one ship of my people made it to these shores.  We came with a message of warning, and in hopes of finding refuge for what remained of our broken people.  The Hungering were coming, and we hoped only that we might find someone strong enough to stand against them.

“Since she has been here, she has proved to be an invaluable asset to us.”  Weaver said, as Telistera finished her story.  “We lost the capital, but we held out far longer than we would have without her aid, and thanks to her, we managed to save a good many civilian lives.”

“I wish only that more of us remained to aid the cause.”  She said, and her words were heavy, weighted by a great sadness.  I wondered just how many of her people had escaped her homeland on the one surviving ship.  I couldn't imagine what a terrible loss it must be to lose everything you'd ever known.

I felt I should say something, though I found myself at a loss for words.  What did one say to someone who had lost the very root of their world?

“You exemplify the bravery of your people.”  I said, though the words felt hollow and insincere in the face of Telistera's tragic story.

She nodded once.  “I do not tell my story to win sympathy, but to help understand the nature of the enemy that we face.  The Hungering are terrible, and they will not stop so long as their king stands.”

“Then where is their king?  If we kill him, we can end this quickly.”  I said, thinking the answer was obvious.

“That is part of another, shorter, story.”  Lucidil said, gesturing to Ethaniel.  “Why don't you tell us all how you came to be as you are now, and what those extra eyes mean to us.”

Ethaniel stepped forward, as imposing a figure as ever before, maybe more so for the gray eyes that sat on his forehead just above his brow line, staring with a murky, fog-like, animosity.  He wore no cloak.  Instead, his wings were wrapped about his shoulders, falling around him much the way that a cloak would.  He was one of the few Knights of Ethan I'd seen who did not frequently wear one of the shifting cloaks, though I noted that King Lucidil no longer wore his.

“I am not as adept a teller of stories as Telistera, and there is little to tell.”  Ethaniel began.  “We found it while we were preparing the capital for the rush of the Hungering that we knew was fast approaching.

“It was a black thing, a creature that seemed more smoke than solid.  Its form shifted and churned, as though not firmly set in reality, and it skulked in the darkness of the castle.  We'd gotten reports of people seeing it in hallways, and encountering it in their rooms at night, but we took it to be the jitters of a people who feared the coming of the Hungering, that was until the time we caught it spying on the king in the his own hall.  I was there that day, and though it tried to escape, it could not out pace me.

“It attempted to leave the audience chamber, but I grasped it tight around the neck, though it was difficult to hold onto because it seemed that its neck might vanish beneath my hands at any moment.  It was like holding on to slick sand that moved of its own volition.  I had never seen a creature of its ilk before.  It was black and wiry, smaller than a man, but far stronger than I would have believed possible in so slight a form.  Smoke, like that which seeps from its eyes even as I wear them now, crept from its skin, vanishing into the air around it, though it did not feel hot to the touch.  Indeed, it was cold against my hands.  As I grabbed it, it screamed out to me, 'Please, do not kill me.  With these eyes I can see far and wide.  I know what evil comes!  I will tell you all if you spare my life!'

“Lucidil overheard its outburst and bade me to bring it closer, though I felt doing so was a risk.  I questioned it, asked it where it had come from, and what it intended.  It said that it was a creature of the far south, but that it had been driven north by the need to find safety, for it feared the coming of the Hungering.  It was seeking a safe place, and it had thought the kingdom of men would be the safest, the king's own castle safer still.  Its story rang false.

“We did not trust it.  Its eyes were full of betrayal and evil, but we didn't wish to risk losing its ability to see far, if it really had such an ability at all.  Weaver forced it to prove the power of its eyes, and so it did.  It predicted when and where the horde of Hungering ships would arrive.  We imprisoned it, and waited for its information to prove true.  True it was, but that revelation left us with another problem.

“We knew that the dark thing, a creature which called itself a 'Shadowlin,' could never be trusted.  Though it cooperated with us, we were certain it had ulterior motives.  However, we wanted the information its eyes could provide.  The solution to that difficult situation was simple.  I, being the first and strongest of the Knights of Ethan, agreed to take on its most prized aspect, as I had taken on so many others.

“The binding process was difficult, since the Shadowlin did not wish to cooperate.  It fought tooth and nail, killing some of those involved in the process.  We used blood, its black blood and my red were combined, and each of us tied to the other through its consumption, as there must be a bond for the process to work.  Once the binding was done, our most skilled surgeons cut out its eyes and placed them on me.  Of course, we could not remove my Uliona eyes to do so, so they had to be placed elsewhere.”  The gray eyes on Ethaniel's forehead almost seemed to burn black for a moment, as though they were sentient, and aware of the attention cast upon them.

“The magic worked.  The Shadowlin creature died, and I was left with its eyes and its ability, though the magic is difficult to control.  I am still struggling to adapt it for ready use.  I cannot control when the visions come, or what I will see.  I get glimpses, small portions of the whole picture, and I cannot be certain exactly what I am meant to learn.  The eyes have proved themselves valuable.  With them I was able to give early warning to the city, and we were able to save many people.  In time, I will master this vision.”  He said the last with determination, but his face seemed weary.  His face, I thought, hardly seemed the proud image of nobility it had once been.

He continued.  “More importantly, I believe we can use the eyes, once I've mastered them, to find the Hungering king, and put an end to our enemy once and for all.  As of now, we do not know whether the Hungering ruler is on our land, or still in the lands of the Tett.  Until we know that, we are lost.”

“Ethaniel will succeed.”  Weaver said.  “As will we all.  Our situation is dire, but we can still win this.  There are still 15 Knights of Ethan, including those of us in this room and. . . .”

I couldn't help myself, I was so startled by the king's proclamation that there were only 15 Knights remaining, that I spoke out of turn.  There had been hundreds of Knights.  “There are only fifteen Knights remaining?”

“How is that possible?”  Malice spoke from beside me.  She sounded incredulous as well.

“Our numbers have been severely reduced over the last six years.  You forget, we have been at the front of every major conflict, and we cannot easily replenish our numbers.”  Ethaniel spoke.  “Two of our current number are new enough not to have taken anything more than the eyes.  One, in fact, only finished the binding process just before the fall of the castle.”

I found myself shocked again.  “Just before the fall of the castle?”  I looked to Lucidil.  “Were you not the king at that time?”  He had always proclaimed a strong hate for the process by which Knights of Ethan were made.  He had told me that he lost a great love to the process, as had I.

He nodded his head, apparently not seeing my point.

“You did not stop this from happening?  I thought you were fighting to prevent such. . .”  I began, anger coming through in my voice.

“We need those warriors now.  Our entire land is at risk, Lowin.  Would you begrudge our people the heroes needed to save them?”  Lucidil looked at me as though I was a fool who did not understand the world.

“You were fighting specifically to stop such an abuse of power, Lucidil.  How can you change the entire nature of your cause?  How can you stand as a king, and support the atrocities which you condemned before?”  I did not back down.  My ire was rising, and all eyes had fallen on me.  Inside of me, somewhere in my mind, teeth gnashed as snow fell across a barren landscape.  The Fell Beast had awakened.

“Times have changed, the situation has changed.  We need the Knights of Ethan more than ever before, and I cannot allow the cessation of the contract.”

My fists balled in rage, and that beast within me thrashed and howled, wanting to be let out.  All eyes were on me, as if they all could see the monster that lay within.  Those eyes - fearful, some worried for me, some worried for the king - but all troubled, spoke to the human part of me.  I quieted my rage and turned my back on Lucidil, unwilling to meet his heartless gaze.

“What are we to do now?”  I said, letting the anger pass me.  I had to remain calm if I was to see my daughter again.  Lucidil would not allow me to come to dinner if I started trouble, and more than anything else I wanted to see my Kaylien again.  The tension in the room fled as I resumed an outward calm.

“I need to bring the brunt of my forces along behind the Hungering line.  We are fortifying here, preparing for the onslaught to come, but I need the Shao Geok and my other allies from the South to circle around behind those forces so that we can break them into smaller groups and pick them off.  The problem is that I previously ordered them to another location, and they are still en-route there now.  I need to send a message to them, but the message has to pass directly through the Hungering line if it is to reach its destination in time.”  Lucidil spoke calmly, his eyes locking on mine as he finished his last sentence.

“I need you, Ethaniel, and Malice to cut through the advancing Hungering army and warn the Shao Geok, and the armies that follow them.  Ethaniel can use the information he gathers from his new eyes to better direct our forces, and the three of you can move quickly, and be almost certain to arrive intact.”  The king finished.  He was not ordering me, though I knew the order was implied beneath his explanation.

I nodded.  “Alright.  If that is what needs to be done.”

Lucidil smiled, relief obvious on his face.  He thought he had a firm grip on me, but he hadn't been certain.  His lack of understanding just how tightly he held me under control only further proved how little humanity was left in the red-eyed warrior.  He held my daughter under his sway, and I could not betray him while that remained true.  That he failed to understand that did not show him under the best light.

“Good.”  Lucidil said, “I'll need you to be ready to leave at first light tomorrow. It'll be easier to travel during the day.  For the remainder of the night you are free to do as you'd like.  You are, of course, all invited to dine with my family at our pavilion.  Dinner will be in a few hours.”  He said the last words, I knew, as a way of letting me know that I had behaved well enough to be allowed to see my daughter again.  Inside me the Fell Beast growled menacingly into the quiet of my mind.  “Noble, Malice, you two should familiarize yourselves with the camp.  The other Knights will be pleased to see their number swell, even slightly, I'm sure.”  With that, I knew that we had been dismissed.

I walked from the tent. Malice, Ethaniel, and the silver-eyed woman, Telistera, all left with me.  Ethaniel walked away without another word, seemingly intent upon his own business.  It was strange to watch a man who was almost a legend walk away, as though he were just another soldier in the army.  I supposed, that technically that was all Ethaniel was, but he had always seemed to so far beyond me before.  Telistera turned to address me before she departed.

“Weaver speaks highly of you.  He believes that you will save us all.”  Her eyes were deeply probing, but seemed to hold no aggression.  “I look forward to hunting beside you in the future.”  She bowed to me, and then to Malice, and then she too departed.

“I thought you were going to kill him.”  I said quietly to Malice once the others had gone.

“I was, but you have no right to say anything.  There were several times when I thought you might rip his throat out.”  She answered.  She turned to me, and I could see concern beneath her beautiful green eyes.  “Are you alright?”  She was, of course, referring to Kay.

I shook my head.  “No,” I answered honestly.  “We have no choice, though.  I am very tired of having no choice. . .”

She nodded, once, sharply.  “If anything happens to Kay, I'm going to rip out his heart.”  Her eyes held a dangerous determination.

“If anything happens to Kay. . .”  I let the words hang, because I couldn't be certain what I would do.  I closed my eyes for a second, and an image of all consuming fire cutting through a great forest filled my mind.  In the center of the woods, amidst the cinder and smoke, was a Fell Beast, with red stripes at its wrists and ankles, blood dripping from its teeth, and madness in its eyes.  “. . . I will burn the world.”  The words came unbidden to my lips.

The king's camp was quite the spectacle.  A variety of different peoples from all across the land traveled about their business, cutting a wide berth for Malice and me as we moved between the tents.  We were not really interested in seeing the sights of Lucidil's camp, but we were in need of some distraction from the situation we'd found ourselves thrust into.  In better days, it would have been the dangerous mission ahead of us that most occupied our minds, but I knew that wasn't the case for myself, and guessed that wasn't the case for Malice either.

“With only fifteen Knights remaining, Lucidil's forces are severely weakened.”  Malice said, breaking the silence that had fallen upon us shortly after we'd left Weaver's war pavilion.  She was attempting to draw our thoughts to our more immediate problems.

“The illusion of our immortality becomes more fragile by the day.”  I replied, willing to allow myself the distraction, if it could ease the pain of having Kay so close, yet still beyond my reach.  “I never thought there would be a day when so few Knights still lived.”

“We are diminished, but far from weakened.  The strongest, and most able of us, are still alive.”  A female voice said from behind us.  Malice and I turned to face the new speaker, though the voice was instantly familiar to me.  It was one I had not anticipated ever hearing again.  Pale skin and a Knight's dark eyes sparkled in the dim evening light.

“Snow. . .”  I heard Malice say, even as her eyes met those of the newcomer.

“Malice," Snow replied, bowing deeply to the green-eyed warrior, “it is my pleasure to finally meet you.  I did not have the honor of training under your sword as did so many of my brethren, but I was fortunate enough to be given your position after. . .”   The white furred Knight of Ethan seemed to consider her words for a moment, and then said, “…after you left.”

Malice nodded.  “I've heard much of you, through reputation alone.  They said that you were a prodigy of the blade, and of close combat.  I'd thought at some point I would get to teach you myself.”

Snow smiled, and the expression seemed honest.  “The Knights sent me to study with many different masters because they believed the more styles I learned, the better I would become.  Hopefully that is true, because if I've ever needed to be skilled with a blade, it is now.”

Her eyes passed to me, and I suddenly found myself very uncomfortable, for all I could think of was our single night together not so long ago.  She had not relished the task, but she had given herself to me, and I had, in turn, insulted her honor.  She had been forced into the task, I learned later, and I still regretted calling her a whore.  It had been an uncharacteristically brash action on my part.

I had not known then that she was a weapons master.  It was often difficult to remember, when looking at the face of a female Knight, that though they appeared like a maiden of sixteen or seventeen years of age, trapped eternally at the apex of their beauty, those women were also dangerous mechanisms of war.  As part of their conditioning, the surgeons cut out the internal parts necessary for reproduction.  It kept them from getting with child, which might interfere with their ability to fight, and eliminated the monthly difficulties women generally experienced.  While they were still women, the female Knights were warriors first.

“Lowin, it is good to see you again.”  She said, offering a small bow of her head.  I felt my cheeks flush.  For some reason, as I stood next to Malice, I felt as though I had betrayed my green-eyed friend, and that I still betrayed her by remembering my time spent with Snow.  It was foolish, because Malice and I had never been anything more than friends.

“Snow.”  I greeted my old acquaintance awkwardly, bowing my own head in a show of respect, for I did respect the white-furred Knight.  If Malice respected her as a fighter, then I did as well, and I already held her in high esteem for treating me as an equal, when everyone else had already condemned me as a criminal.  She had been a small source of kindness in a world that had seemed devoid of all hope.

Her eyes lingered on mine for a time, as though she was remembering something as well, and then she looked at Malice again, and her eyes first hardened, and then softened once more.  She seemed confused, but the expression cleared away quickly.  I wondered what passed through her mind.

“You're right though.  There are far too few of us remaining.  We lost half our number escaping the capital, including some of the legends of our time.  Ravage, Juggernaut, Mountain, and Tempest.”  Snow's voice had taken on an airy quality.  She seemed far away at that moment, lost on a different battlefield, no doubt.

That last name struck poignantly.  Tempest had been the first Knight I'd known, the one who had come to retrieve me when I had been first drafted, and the one who I'd always first thought of when someone would say “Knights of Ethan.”  In the end, while I was imprisoned at the castle, he had hated me.  That had hurt, but it had been expected.  To know that he had fallen, that was hard to accept.  The Knights of Ethan were supposed to be nearly indestructible.  They had been the king's invincible army.

“So long as we continue to fight, there is still hope.”  I heard Malice say, and her voice sounded every bit as sad as Snow's.  Of course, I should have known that Malice would know more of those names than did I.  She had probably trained some of them, as she had been the weapons master for a long time.  I felt out of place.  I had not been a Knight for very long before Lucidil had taken me away from it all.  I knew little of the ways of the Knights of Ethan.

Snow smiled.  “The others will be glad to know that there are two more Knights in service to the king, even if it is the two of you.”   She said the last part with a chuckle, taking the sting out of words that might have otherwise been offensive.  “I'm sure I will see you both again.”

“I don't plan on dying any time soon.”  Malice answered.

“I've survived this long.  I suppose it wouldn't be prudent to quit now.”  I added.  Snow disappeared back amongst the tents from which she'd come, and Malice and I walked in silence for a while longer.

“When did you meet Snow?”  Malice asked after a time, and I felt a pressure rise in my chest.  The truth, however, was for some reason difficult to force out.  Still, I owed Malice an honest answer.  She had stood with me for too long not to give her the truth.  Besides, I reminded myself once more, Malice and I were just friends.  We had been lovers, but that had been an extension of our friendship.  I cleared my throat.

“While I was imprisoned, they sent her to me as company.  They wanted to recreate what had happened to you, with the changing of your eyes, so they . . . they forced her to offer her body to me.”  I said, feeling embarrassed, and nervous about telling Malice what had happened.

Malice was quiet for a moment, and then said.  “Oh . . . did you take her?”

I nodded.  “I had been alone for a long time, and I didn't know she had been forced into making the offer.  Later, when I learned the truth, I felt terrible about it.”

“So then it's not simply the physical act that caused the changes.”  Malice said, pulling her inference from the fact that Snow still had black eyes.  The green-eyed Knight was thoughtful, but she didn't seem angry.  There had been some reaction to my words, something I couldn't place, but it passed too quickly for me to truly make sense of it.

“We should head for Lucidil's tent.  It's nearly dinner time.”  Malice suggested after we'd walked a little further.

That proclamation scared me, as well as excited me.  I would get to see my daughter again, but once more I would have to pretend that I didn't know her, and that it didn't bother me every time she called Weaver “daddy.”  I cursed the new king under my breath once more.  I just wanted to hold my daughter in my arms and tell her how much I loved her, and how I'd thought of her every day for the last four years.  That would never happen.  Weaver had taken that ambition away from me.  The most I could hope for was that someday I might be a favorite uncle, but even that would take time and patience.

“It will be good to see Kay again.”  I said aloud, smiling at Malice, who had been watching my face since she'd suggested finding Lucidil's tent.  I didn't want her to know how terrible I felt.

“Yes.”  She replied, and she smiled as well.  The expression did not quite reach her eyes.  In that moment I knew that she felt much as I did.  I felt very close to Malice just then.

We began our trek back to Lucidil's tent, guided by a few well-placed questions amidst the group of soldiers and servitors living in the small camp.  One of those we asked even suggested that we stop by the provisions tent on our way to the king's pavilion, and find some new clothing to replace my torn and blood stained shirt.  I had almost entirely forgotten about the damage wrought upon me by the Hungering who attacked us in the woods.  Though I had gotten my cloak back, the parts of my shirt exposed were red and tattered.  In truth, there was little left of the shirt beneath.  It wouldn't do to visit my daughter dressed as though I'd just returned from war, even if that was essentially the truth.

“I wonder if I can get a new sword.”  Malice commented, pulling the broken weapon she now carried from her scabbard.  The blade was half of its original length.  I guessed the remainder of the steel still protruded from the tree in which it had been lodged.

“If not, you can carry mine.  It would serve your hands better than my own.”  I answered.  I was not simply depreciating myself, only stating an obvious fact.  If it came to a fight, both Malice and I would be better served by her having a whole sword.  My skills with the blade, while not terrible, were inferior to her prowess.

Malice shrugged.  “Maybe, maybe not.  As I've known since you first started training, you have the potential to be great. You could surpass me, Lowin.  You can probably even surpass Ethaniel and Lucidil.  It is just a matter of breaking the boundaries that are standing in your way.  You must overcome your own self-imposed limitations.”  She swung her halved sword before her once, and then returning it to her scabbard.

“Your form is perfect, but you're simply too rigid.  Your instinct has fallen second to your training.  That is a wall you have to break down before you can grow as a swordsman, or as a fighter.  Experience can do it . . . if you can survive long enough to gain the experience.  Don't forget, I've had 200 years to work on my technique.”  She said, smiling at the last.  “Don't get discouraged.”

There it was again.  Malice was hundreds of years old.  It was difficult to remember that.  I wondered, and not for the first time, why it was that she bothered with me.  We came from entirely different times in the world, yet she was the only close friend I retained.  What did she see in me, the young, foolish boy that seemed only to bound from one disaster to the next?  Certainly her association with me hadn't made her life any easier.

We reached the provisions tent.  Two of the Black Patch Brigade stood guard, watching us with their dark, intense eyes, full of that mixed feral hatred and subdued human intelligence I'd grown to distrust.  They were truly a terrifying mix of human and Fell Beast.  As I only too well knew, they were a dangerous combination.  What made them most frightening was that barely restrained look of hunger hiding beneath their human eyes.  I wondered how powerful the spells were that bound beast and man together, and what would happen if that binding were to come unhinged.  .

I truly understood little of the magic of the world.  It was a dark force that was often confusing, and never without sacrifice.  To obtain power, some cost must always be paid out.  It was like building a fire in order to stay warm.  To make a great fire, a tree must give something of itself to the cause.  To do great magic, some life must be lost.  I had yet to encounter a magic that did not involve a degree of questionable cost.

“The king says you are to be provisioned as needed, Oath Breaker.”  One of the black cloaks said.  His voice was a near growl, his mouth packed full of vicious teeth.  Oath Breaker was a name the black cloaks seemed to have tacked onto me.  How they all knew it, and knew who I was, I did not know.  “What would you have?”

“I need a shirt," I said, and then another thought occurred to me.  “One of the new Lucidil cloaks as well.”

“A shirt. . .”  The black cloak who had spoken first nodded.  “Yes.  The cloaks . . . they are no longer made.”  The second black cloak walked into the provisions tent.

“Why are they no longer making the cloaks?”  I asked, curious, since the new cloaks were a significant improvement over the old.

“That is not for us to know, Oath Breaker.  That is the king's business.  What else do you want?”  The black cloak responded, and I did not believe he was lying.  He would blindly follow whatever order the king gave, and I doubted Lucidil kept them informed of any of the minor details of his choices.  Still, the fact that the new cloaks were no longer being produced sat strangely with me.

“I need a new sword.”  Malice said, drawing forth her broken blade.  The black cloak stared at her for a moment, and then looked at me.  He looked back at her broken sword, and once more back at me.  It dawned on me then, that Lucidil had given the black cloaks orders to allow me provisions, but not Malice.

“My friend needs a sword, please provide her with one.”  I said, and immediately the black cloak reacted.  He leaned into the tent and called to the other, ordering him to bring out a sword as well.

“King's steel.”  I added, and the figure called into the tent and corrected my request to his fellow.  It seemed the creatures of the king were inflexible on their orders, and only went as far in their commands as they had to.  For all that they were probably stronger and more fearsome than a human, they were also much more inherently dangerous.  Their inability to react and make judgments on their own severely limited their usefulness, and their underlying brutality would lead to a disaster if they ever slipped their collar of magical restriction.

I thought of Wisp, and anger welled up inside of me.

Clawed feet tearing through snow. . .

The taste of blood on my tongue. . .

The exhilaration of the chase. . .

The exultation of a prey's fear. . .

My vision blurred for a moment, and I had to force those feelings, those raw instinctual lusts, back down into my subconscious.  For a few breaths' time, they had threatened to overwhelm me.  I filled my lungs with air and let it out slowly, forcing myself to relax.  I am Lowin Fenly.  I repeated those words in my mind.  They were like an anchor, giving me something to latch onto.

“Lowin?”  I heard Malice's voice, she sounded concerned.  I turned to her, and her green eyes were watching me, though her face was impassive.

“I am just tired.  It has been a long few days.  After we've seen Kay, we'll get some rest.  I'll be better then.”  I hoped the words were true even as I spoke them, but I was afraid of that dark lust that had been haunting my subconscious, rising with my anger.

The black cloak returned from inside the provisions tent, a sword and shirt in tow.  The sword, I saw, had been removed from its own scabbard.  It did not matter, since it was a standard issue king's steel blade, it would fit into Malice's scabbard.  I took the items from him, and handed the sword to Malice.  We walked away from the grim faced pair of guards, eager to get as much distance as possible between ourselves and the foul Black Patch Brigade guards.

Malice swapped her broken sword for the whole one, discarding the split blade.  I stripped off my cloak and took off my tattered shirt.  There was little remaining of the front of it.  The flesh beneath, however, had finished healing.  There was not so much as single scar remaining on my torso, despite the vicious wounding I'd taken.   Malice moved in close and ran her hand across my stomach and chest, her eyes seeming to take in every detail.  Even she marveled at my body's ability to heal itself.  Her touch was soft and delicate, and it sent a spark of heat through my body that I pointedly attempted to ignore.

“Every time you're injured, I'm always sure that you can't possibly recover, but. . .”  Her words trailed off, and she stepped back.  “You are remarkable, Lowin Fenly.”

I shrugged, and then drew on my new shirt.  “If I was remarkable, you'd think I could keep myself out of situations that involved me needing miraculous healing.”

“I think it is your nature that drives you into such situations.  You fight as though you believe that if you push yourself hard enough, no one else might have to lift a sword.  You fight as though you don't matter, Lowin, but you certainly do.”  Malice's voice was strong, edged with a little anger, and something else I didn't recognize, though the last four words were uttered as little more than a whisper.  Her eyes looked as though they were coated in glass in the dim light of the failing day.  She turned her back to me.  “We should go to dinner.  Lucidil will likely not wait long for us.”

“Yes.”  I said, my mind trapped in her words.  You fight as though you don't matter. . .  What had she meant by that?  I fought hard, certainly, but was I fighting without concern for my own life?  I could not be sure.  I was fighting to protect those around me. In my mind that was the most important goal, and I could truly see no other.

Lucidil's pavilion had been erected near the center of the camp, and as we approached the smell of roasting meat wafted through the air.  I found my mouth watering despite myself.  I could not remember the last time I'd eaten, and certainly could not remember the last time I'd eaten a freshly cooked meal.  I knew that it had been years since the latter.  I stopped as we approached the tent, becoming suddenly nervous.  I looked down at myself, dressed in my shifting cloak, and I attempted to smooth the fabric. My hair, I guessed, looked terrible as well, for I had long been on the road.

“You don't look so bad.”  Malice offered, immediately noticing my discomfort.

“I don't want to frighten her.”  I replied uneasily, feeling very self-conscious.

“She has been raised by Lucidil and Ferocity for the last four years.  She has lived amidst the Black Patch Brigade and the Knights, all the while in this time of war.  I don't think your appearance will trouble her.”  My green-eyed companion reminded me.

“Of course.  Let us go.”  I said, but I did not feel any better about myself.  The guards, two humans, stepped out of our way as we approached, allowing us entrance to the tent.  Inside, lights had been erected – a sort of candle, magical metal contraptions that burned with a strange white light - the trappings of a high ranking official's tent.  I had seen their like before.  The metal contraptions were magic lanterns, and could burn for years without ever needing fuel or replacement.  The light and the smell of the cooking meal made the inside of the tent feel bright and cheery, despite the otherwise dreary surroundings.

Inside the large captain's tent everyone was busy.  Three cooks were working on a set of portable ovens off to one side, and a table was being neatly set in the center of the space.  Lucidil sat at one side of the table, sipping from a goblet and reading over a scroll laid before him.  Off to another side, beyond the table, Ferocity was tying ribbons in Kay's hair, though she stopped when we entered, looking up at Malice and me, distrust in her eyes.  She squeezed Kay's shoulder once, though the girl had spotted us as well.  She jumped down from Ferocity's lap and ran across the room to us.  She skidded to a halt a few feet away and curtsied.

“Welcome to our home, Noble and Malice.  Thank you for accepting daddy–” she stopped herself and smiled, blushing, “the king's invitation to join us for supper.”  She looked over to the table, at Lucidil, but he was still going over his scroll.  So she looked instead to Ferocity, who nodded her head and smiled, letting the girl know she had gotten her greeting correct.

I stepped forward, summoning all of my restraint, and all that I had learned of proper manners.  I bowed, sweeping my cloak about me as I did so.

“It is both our honor and our pleasure to dine with you, princess Trillia.”  I used the name Weaver had given her, though the word felt like a barb on my tongue.

Malice bowed as well.  “We are very well met.”  She said, and her voice, I noted, sounded clipped, but there was an edge of happiness to it.  To see Kay alive and well after so long would have to be enough for the both of us.  Indeed, it was enough to bring some small happiness to an otherwise painful situation.

Kaylien beamed at the positive reactions to her greeting.  “You two have pretty eyes, like mommy and daddy do.  Are you part of our family?”  The girl asked.

Ferocity spoke before anyone else could.  “No they're–”

She was cut off by Weaver.  “Yes, actually.  Noble is daddy's brother, and Malice is his Lady.  So they are both family.  You could even call Noble, 'uncle,' and Malice, 'aunt,' if you'd like.”

Ferocity, who had gotten up from where she was sitting and was standing behind Kay, did not look happy about this new development at all.

Kay was thrilled.  “I've never had an aunt and uncle before!  How come I've never met you?  Where did you come from?  What was daddy like when he was a little boy?”  The girl burst into a flurry of questions, and I couldn't help but smile.  She had gotten most of her looks from her mother, but she had gotten her father's curiosity.

I opened my mouth to attempt to answer her questions, but Ferocity stepped in.  “Child, your aunt and uncle have just gotten in and they're tired and hungry, so why don't you go help set the table so we can all eat.  I'm sure they'll be time to talk to them some more later.”

Kay's smile fell.  “But I don't want to set the table!”  She protested.

Ferocity raised an eyebrow, and changed her posture, but didn't have to say anything.

“Alright.”  The purple-eyed girl said with exasperation before marching off to help with the table.  My heart was so bursting with happiness at seeing her again, and interacting with my little girl, that I didn't want to risk correcting Lucidil's lies about my origins, and my relationship with Malice.  Malice also seemed disinclined to break the illusion that had so excited Kaylien.  To see her happy, and to know that she was excited that we were there, even if it wasn't because she remembered us, was at least something to ease a troubled heart.

Ferocity was still watching us, her eyes hard.  I noticed the way she doted over Kay, and the way she looked at Malice and me with distrust.  I identified her intent almost immediately.  She disliked our presence because we represented a threat to her relationship with Kaylien.  Ferocity hadn't merely kept my daughter and taken care of her, she'd grown to love the girl.  In fact, she'd probably been a better parent to the girl than I ever had.  I could have been angry at her for that, but I wasn't.  I was, however, jealous of the relationship she shared with my daughter.  She was jealous as well, I knew.  I shared a bond of blood with Kay that she would never have, and that was what made her glare at me with those eyes hot with anger.  She feared we were going to take her daughter away from her, but she was the one who had taken my daughter away from me.

The dinner was lavish and wonderful, though the conversation was stifled.  Lucidil controlled the flow of dialogue, and kept Malice and me from saying much to Kaylien.  I took every opportunity to speak to her that I could, reveling in how big she'd gotten, and how intelligent she was for a girl of her age.  Perhaps it was just my pride as a parent that made me believe so, but I could not remember having met a child so young, with such quick wit.

“Alright Trillia, it is late.  Say goodnight to our guests and return to the tent for the evening.”  Weaver finally said, after the meal had been mostly cleared from the table, and we had spent a good many minutes discussing the weather, and other mundane topics.  We spoke nothing of the war, or the events at the castle.  There was no talk of politics, and no discussion of what the next day might hold.

Kay, who had been growing more obviously tired by the minute, did not object too strongly to being told it was time for bed.  She got up from the table, curtsied, and walked away from the center of the room, led by Ferocity.  I watched her go, each step away like a knife in my heart, until finally she was gone through the tent flaps, and into the darkness beyond.

“She's smart and strong.”  Lucidil said, breaking my fixation on the exit through which my daughter had just left.  “We've been training her in self-defense, and of course she is well tutored in scholarly matters as well.  She is twice as strong as the other children her age, and she has shown she can learn anything she is willing to apply herself to.”  He smiled.  “She has to be willing to apply herself, though, and that can be a problem.  She has a knack for irritating her teachers to the point that they throw down their books and leave.”

I wasn't sure how to respond to that.  I should have felt something besides a sense of loss at that story, but all I could think of was how I'd never taught her anything.  I had played no part in her upbringing, and had never gotten to experience the subtle joys of parenting.  Lucidil and Ferocity, though they had abducted the girl, were providing the sort of life I had been unable to give.  The time I had with her, I had wallowed in my own pool of self-pity at the loss of Kyeia.

“I've made preparations for the two of you for the night.  There is a tent not far from here that is yours for the evening.  I would insist that you set about your mission immediately, but I know that you have not rested well in a long time.  So, for the night, you may recover yourselves.  It's best to travel during the day anyway.  Tomorrow, before dawn, I want you up and back at the tent in which we first met.  There I will give you the rest of the information you need.”  Weaver said.  He stood up from his place at the table.

“My servant will see you to your quarters.  You'll find him waiting just outside the tent.”  With that, the king turned and left the room, leaving Malice and I alone with the servants who were finishing up the cleaning.  We rose from our seats and departed, exiting the tent flap into the empty darkness beyond.

Tyvel stood in waiting.

I had not seen the ghost-like spy since my possessions had been taken away by the previous king, four years previous, when I had been imprisoned.  To say that I was displeased to see him would have been an understatement, but strangely I felt little outward anger towards the man, or the remnant of the man, who stood before me.  He met my eyes steadily, but with a look of cool defiance, as though he were expecting me to angrily yell and argue with him.  He did not know that I had been aware of his betrayal for a long time, though I had believed he betrayed me to the old king, and not Lucidil.  In the end, it made little difference.  However, I didn't intend to disillusion him.  When he realized that I wasn't going to say anything, he took it upon himself to speak.

“I did what I had to in order to protect my own life.  You have no right to be angry at me for that.”  He said defensively.

It was Malice who replied.  “You sacrificed others to prolong your own life.  You cost Noble and I everyone that was dear to us, and stood by while one of those people was brutally raped and murdered because of the direct result of your actions.  We have every right to be angry.”

“You would have done the same thing in my place.  You say that you are not afraid to die, but when your life hangs in the balance, and you are given a way to save yourself, you would do what was necessary . . .” Tyvel began, but I had heard enough.

“No, I wouldn't.  Malice wouldn't.  We look like monsters, but it is you, Tyvel, who have played the part of the monster in this.”  I said, and still I did not feel the anger towards the man that I thought should have been there.

“What they did to Wisp, I never intended.  I didn't even want her to be hurt, but the stupid girl wouldn't . . .” Tyvel attempted to separate himself from the responsibility of his actions, but Malice would not let him do so.

“Watch your tongue, Tyvel.  Wisp was twice the human you've ever been, and she paid terribly for your betrayal.  You may never speak ill of her.  You do not have the right to criticize that one.  Now, what is your business here?”  My green-eyed friend's voice was low and dangerous, though we both knew she could do nothing to the ghost.

“I am to escort you to your sleeping quarters.”  Tyvel said, his ever transparent features looking somewhat paler than normal.  While ghostly, he was haunted by his own memories, I realized looking at his grim features.  He might honestly regret the choices he'd made, despite his bluster.  His regret, though, did nothing to blunt the damage he'd wrought.

“I'm not carrying your box.”  Malice snapped.  “I've had enough of carrying betrayal with me.”

“It won't be necessary.”  Tyvel replied.  “My body is in this camp, and I have a much greater field of motion while near it.  I can take you there without aid.”

“Lead us to our tent, and then leave us in peace.”  I said, eager to be done with the ghost.  I may have no longer felt rage towards the insubstantial wreckage of a man, but I also didn't savor his company.  His presence brought back memories of a time in my life that was difficult to think of.  Of course, since I'd become a Knight, and then a Broken Sword, it seemed that most of my life was composed of times that I would prefer not to remember.  The death of Kyeia, the murder of Brutal, the death of Wisp and the loss of Kay, the battles of the Hungering, and the repeated betrayal by those I trusted, all of these terrible things were the lineage of my rise to being a Knight of Ethan.

Tyvel led us through the dark camp to a small tent, a little distant from the others.  He stopped just outside of it, and gestured that we had arrived.  I pulled back the flap and allowed Malice to enter first.  I looked back to Tyvel once more.

“I think I hate you less than you hate yourself.”   I said, before I turned to enter the tent.

“For what it matters, I am sorry about what I've done.”  His voice was quiet, and there was a sadness in it I had not expected.  I did not respond, because I was not even close to ready to forgive him yet.  The tent flap fell closed behind me, and I was enveloped in the serene darkness of the space within.  Though, as was with the eyes of a Knight of Ethan, the darkness was not complete.  What little light existed was amplified, and I could easily make out the motions of Malice.

The inside of the tent was just large enough for two people to stretch out comfortably, which meant that it probably would have housed three soldiers in a less well provisioned army.  For that night, though, it would house just Malice and me, and afford us at least some minor comfort in the form of blankets and a padded bedroll.

Malice, I saw, was stripping off the layers of her clothing, shedding them and dropping them to the floor at the side of tent.  Even in the darkness of the inside of the tent, my eyes could make out every detail of her movement.  I watched her, a blush on my face, though it was not the first time I'd seen her undress.  She noticed me watching as she released the buttons on her shirt.

“I've been sleeping in my clothes for too long.  Tonight, in this private place, I will be comfortable, and you should be as well.”  She said as she pulled open the front of her shirt exposing the bindings she wore beneath.  The cloth wrappings kept her chest from becoming a burden while she fought, for she was well endowed.  She released the knot with a tug, and the white cloth fell away exposing her pale, almost flawless skin to the cool air.  Her breasts were large and full, seeming almost too much for her frame.  On her chest, between her breasts, stretched a long and frightening looking scar, the remnant of her own acquisition of a Kaziem wolf’s heart.

I had no such scar from my encounter.  I had always healed more effectively than any of the other Knights.  Since taking the eyes, I had not received a single scar, despite having been in multiple situations that should have left their mark.  I reached for the toggle at the neck of my cloak and pulled it free.  I turned my eyes away from Malice's naked body, and began to undress myself.  She was right.  We had one night to rest, and we couldn't be certain when the opportunity would come again.  It was best to be as comfortable as possible.

Without my cloak and clothes, and with no fire to warm me, the air was surprisingly chill.  Even my fur-clad arms and legs could feel the winter cold.  I pulled the blankets over me, but they too were chilled as well, not yet warmed by my body.  I saw Malice, entirely undressed as well, slide into the covers at my side, pulling her blankets over her, but a moment later she was pushing her way under my own as well.  Her body was as soft as anything I could remember.  Everywhere our skin touched beneath the blankets was hot, like velvet fire.

I put my arms around Malice and pulled her closer to me.  My lips found hers, and we kissed.  I tasted salt upon her lips.  My ears perked forward, and I noticed that I could hear a quiet sobbing.  Her body was slowly shaking against mine as she cried.  I kissed her cheek, and tasted tears.  It was the culmination of a terrible day, I knew.  Malice had been strong all day, but there, in the privacy of the tent, she could finally have her moment, and I would not take that from her.  I held her to me as she sobbed quietly into the darkness.  I stroked her soft hair, and kissed her face.

Crying in my arms, she seemed the most vulnerable girl in the entire world, and not at all the two-hundred year old, battle hardened warrior who had been the weapons master of the Knights of Ethan.  The Knights had made a monster of a young and vulnerable woman, and she played the part to perfection, but at her center, Malice was still a human being, and humans cried.  I could have cried as well, but I did not want to burden Malice with my tears just then.  It was her time, and I would be strong for her when she needed me.  She was so often my strength in the hardest of times; it was the least I could return to her.

After a while, her sobbing faded, and the chill of the night seemed to vanish beneath our blankets.  Time passed quietly, though I did not sleep.  Malice stirred against me, and I felt one of her hands on my chest and the other on my hip.

“I want to be with you.”  I heard her whisper, and suddenly she pressed against me closer, her breasts a very real pressure on my skin, and her lips a soft warmness against my own.  I could feel the warmth of her most sacred place pressed against my own firming desire, and suddenly I wanted Malice as I had never before wanted any woman.  It was a physical and an emotional ache in my chest.  I responded to her advances with my own, covering her face and neck with fiery kisses, and the searing passion of my desire.

I pushed her gently onto her back, and she spread open for me, waiting and eager.  I tried to savor the moment, to caress her amazing, full breasts, and live each moment of every kiss we shared, but neither of us had the patience, or the time, for slow advances.  Her hips pressed upward unto me, demanding that I enter, and I would not - could not - deny them that which I also wanted.  I dove within her, and we were as tightly bound as any two could ever be.

We pressed back the shadows with our ecstasy, and for one night, at least, we found some form of peace in each other's arms.  When sleep finally took us, we were both fully spent, and finally at ease.

I awoke before the sun.  My movement stirred Malice, and we both rose in silence, uncurling from each other's embrace.  Our clothes had been haphazardly tossed across the floor, and I found it took a short while to locate and separate our similar apparel.  The morning air was cold, but once back inside our shifting cloaks, the chill vanished.  I watched as the softer side of Malice, the luscious figure of gentleness and lust, vanish behind the wall of cloth armor she showed to the rest of the world, and I felt a tinge of sadness.  It seemed, as she fastened her sword about her waist and her edges became insubstantial beneath her cloak, that she changed into a different person entirely.

I wondered, then, if I was the same as she was, falling into the character of a Knight when my cloak was wrapped about me, and only truly being Lowin when I shed that outer layer.  Perhaps it wasn't even an intentional change on our parts, but an effect of the eerie shifting fabric we wrapped ourselves in.  Either way, we had shed our comfort, and once more taken the mantle of the warrior.  When we each stood ready, we opened the tent flap and walked out into the darkness of the fading night.

I felt reborn in the dimness of the dawn before the sun.  The night's sleep had chased away the last of my exhaustion, and I felt truly whole again for the first time in many years.  Kay was safe, and though I couldn't be the father to her that I so desperately wanted to, I at least knew that Lucidil and Ferocity had gone out of their way to take care of her, and provided her with a happy life.  Malice and I were alive and well, despite all that had transpired, and before me lay a great task.  I had purpose, if little else, and that was more than I'd had during my four years of imprisonment.

We reached Lucidil's command tent quickly.  Ethaniel was already waiting inside, standing stoic and quiet in the dim light provided by a single lantern sitting atop the cluttered table.  His two sets of eyes, the gray and the black, seemed to take in every detail of Malice and I as we entered, but each with entirely different purpose. Though there was nothing in Ethaniel's stance to suggest he was hostile, those storm gray eyes on his forehead triggered a primal feeling of fear within me.  There was something terrible and dark in the old Knight's second set of eyes.  The black eyes looked on with sharp intensity, but none of the rage hidden behind the other pair.

“Malice, Noble.”  Ethaniel greeted us both, bowing his head slightly to each of us in turn.  We returned the gesture, though I made certain to keep my eyes fixed on the winged figure before us.  So long as his gray eyes watched me with such malignant design, I felt I could not let down my guard.  I sensed no impending attack, but there was evil intent, and I could not force myself to trust those smoky orbs.

“You are earlier than I anticipated.  I thought the pleasure of a private tent would keep you longer.”  Ethaniel said, ending the silence that had fallen uncomfortably about us.  He looked from one of us to the other, raising an eyebrow in what I could only interpret as an expression of wry humor.  For a moment, I saw the shadow of the Ethaniel I remembered from when I'd first joined the Knights, but as his look of humor faded, so too did that fleeting familiarity.

“The dawn comes too quickly.”  Malice said, surprising me with her candor.  Rather than deny or ignore Ethaniel's tease, she had embraced it and made it her own, even smiling pleasantly as she spoke.  I felt myself blush, remembering the previous night's activities.  I decided to change the subject, and my tongue did the walking for me.

“Why do you serve Lucidil?”  Subtlety had never been a strong point of mine, but my curiosity was a driving force.  It was a question that had bothered me for some time.  If anyone should have been given the crown in the absence of the king, since the king had no heir, I had thought that someone would have been Ethaniel.  I was unclear as to how Lucidil had risen so far, so quickly.

Ethaniel cocked his head at the question, surprise evident on his features.  His wings flexed over his shoulders before falling back around him like a great black cloak, and he stared at me.  I wondered if he would answer, or if he would continue to stare, his four sets of eyes burrowing under my skin as though he were trying to determine my nature by dissecting me with his knife-like gaze.

“You make no excuses for your curiosity.”  Ethaniel said after what felt like a terrible eternity of silence. “That is a strange trait, but not necessarily an unpleasant one.”  He seemed to have just come to that conclusion, as though he had been trying to decide whether or not he was offended by my question.

“I serve the king.  Lucidil is the king, and so I serve him. What I think you really want to know, is not why I serve Lucidil, but how Lucidil became the king.”  Ethaniel smiled, though the expression only touched his first set of eyes.  The gray eyes remained cold and hostile.  His other eyes, those black eyes of the Knight's, took on a distant look as he remembered.

Twenty years ago, the lands of men were a very different place.  Our king then, a good man, was doing what kings had done for countless years.  He was expanding his borders, and fighting to maintain peace within those borders.  His means were not always the most gentle, but that is what is forced upon rulers by the nature of the world, and the people within.  Justice will only prevail if the land is ruled with an iron fist and a heart of steel.  A good king must be willing to lay a terrible burden on a few, so that the many might lead simpler lives.  Our king did this better than many other have ever hoped to.

He controlled the land with two primary military powers, the Knights of Ethan, and his human knights and guardsmen.  He kept his human knights inside our lands, protecting the people, because they could do the job at hand without spreading fear amidst the masses.  My Knights, his Knights of Ethan, other than the king's own private retinue, were stationed at posts near the borders of the lands of men, where they could be deployed quickly to fight any encroaching forces.

We Knights of Ethan had never been in great numbers, but it took very few of us to change the course of a battle.  For many years we had found ourselves doing little more than battling in skirmishes at the borders of the lands of men, pushing further into new territories, trying to clean out the hostile monsters of the feral lands beyond our borders.  This could have gone on until we reached land's end, but we suddenly found ourselves pressed upon by a new enemy, a stronger kind of enemy.

Members of our Knights began to defect.  Some few had left earlier, but it was then, twenty years ago, that a surprising portion of our number fled in the course of a single week.  Our numbers were reduced, and what was worse, we found ourselves suddenly beset by the Shao Geok, a hostile race from deep in the frigid south.  They had never before been a problem, but suddenly they were pressing back against our newly established borders, and they were doing so with an organized precision we had not anticipated.  We had made the mistake of thinking of them as nothing more than any other type of beast.

The Knights of Ethan became ever more important to the king.  We went from years of quiet training and small skirmishes, to fully fledged war at the borders, pushing back an enemy that we hadn't known existed.  The fighting continued, and it wasn't long before we realized that our missing Knights had joined with the armies of the other side.  What was worse, we discovered that the enemy was led by none other than Weaver, or Lucidil as he was named before becoming a Knight, a man who I had trusted my life to many times.  I knew him only too well, and knew how powerful and intelligent he was.  The king, however, had never met Lucidil, as the red-eyed Weaver had become a Knight of Ethan before the king was even alive.

I warned the king of the trouble we could have before us with Weaver leading our enemy, and he heeded my advice on the matter.  I believed that with an excessive show of power, we could push Lucidil back, make him give up his hopes of destroying our kingdom.  I didn't understand exactly how determined he was, and I was wrong.

We crushed his forces again and again, but each time he came back stronger, and with a new and ingenious tactic.  This continued escalating constantly until, quite suddenly, his attacks stopped entirely.  For years the battles had continued, and just as suddenly as they'd begun, they just stopped.  This was about the time that a certain young man had been bound to an Uliona female by the name of Kyeia.  At the time, we didn't believe the two events corresponding were significant, for we had gone through many other bindings before without interference.

There we sat, for a time, confident in our peace.  There were no attacks, and our borders lay in silence.  That all came crashing to an end on the day you were set to arrive at Fell Rock.  The Shao Geok attacked your carriage well within the borders of human lands.  Never had Weaver dared to so blatantly breach our borders.  We didn't even know how he accomplished such a feat.

We dispatched his assassins and waited, biding our time while you began the process of training.  It was anticipated that you, Lowin Fenly, would be a great influx of power for our side in the battle against the seemingly unstoppable Lucidil.  Of course Weaver had plans of his own.  He attacked our most heavily fortified fortress, killing many Knights in the process, and stole you away from us, prying you out from between our fingers with surgical grace.

It may seem as though I'm simply restating things you already know, Lowin, but it is important that you understand the situations which lead up to Lucidil becoming king, and sometimes one cannot see the greater picture when one is resting on the canvas.  Your loss, and the loss of so many Knights, was a devastating blow to the entire kingdom.  The king declared that day as a day of remembrance, one in which all of the lives lost at Fell Rock should be honored.  At that time, we believed you had fallen to the Lantern Eye, along with so many of our other brethren.

The king reacted immediately to the new threat.  He didn't know how Lucidil had moved forces into his borders without being caught, so he decided to reinforce all border positions with our remaining Knights of Ethan.  All posts received more units.  We had no conception of the depth to which Lucidil's spies had pierced our innermost workings, and we certainly didn't know that he was practicing forbidden magic to move his units within our borders without having to cross overland, through our scouting lines.

We kept ourselves ready, but after Fell Rock everything went quiet again.  We didn't understand why Weaver would not press his advantage, but we feared what might come next.  He had repeatedly surprised us with his tactics.

Of course, the next time we received any news of attack it was when you and Brutal struck the bridge at our north border.  We received mixed news on that.  First we heard that you and Brutal had attacked and kidnapped our master of weapons, and then we heard that you had miraculously appeared and killed Brutal, who had been single-handedly laying siege to our defenses, before you vanished with our own master of swords.  It seemed that even those who had been at the bridge were not exactly certain what had happened.  In the end we were able to piece together what had transpired, and it was easy enough to determine your motivation.

You had, of course, learned Kyeia was alive, and had gone to free her.  Brutal had accompanied you, but you had killed him in an effort to save your weapons master, someone who meant more to you than she was supposed to. . . that's your story though, and I don't think I need say anything more about it.

That is when we also received first warning of the Hungering, though we did not hold much stock in the warnings of a fugitive, even when weighted with the support of our master of swords, who was also, at that point, a fugitive.

I'll not dwell on what happened next, because I believe you are only too keenly aware of what transpired over the following weeks.  You vanished into the wilderness, taking one of the king's most prized experiments and our greatest weapons master with you.  The king, however, did not see fit to hunt you down, despite the damage you had wrought, and the precious resource of Knights you had cost the kingdom of men.  I encouraged him to seek justice in this matter, if for nothing else, than simply to bring you and Malice back to the Knights of Ethan.  He would hear nothing of it.  The king believed we had wronged you, and that you were more dangerous to us as one of our force than as a rogue.  He was my king, and so I accepted his judgment.

After you had vanished, for a time, things were quiet.  Lucidil's forces did not move against us and we descended into an uneasy peace.  Between your attack, and Lucidil's attack on Fell Rock, our forces were in a terrible state of disrepair.  We began looking into ways to strengthen our military might once more.  It was obvious that the human component of our military force could do little against an onslaught of highly trained Knights of Ethan, and the king did not wish to senselessly order men to their death.  He instructed his top researchers, magicians of great caliber, to find a way to enhance his men so that they might stand against the armies of Lucidil.

The king never anticipated that the magics that would be created by those researchers would never be used to fight Lucidil.  It was a year later that our silver-eyed friend from across the ocean arrived at our shores, and she brought with her a terrible warning.  This time, the king was ready to listen.

Settlements had been vanishing along the coast line, leaving only burned out remains of entire villages.  Piles of bones, some blackened from fire, some split and broken from weapon blows, all of them marked with signs of chewing and gnawing, were what remained of those people unfortunate enough to live in the many coastal towns which were first sacked by the Hungering.  Telistera's warning put the king in a rough position.  We now had a battle on two fronts building.  The Hungering were coming, and Lucidil still posed an unquantifiable threat.

That is when Weaver came to the king.  We had been struggling against his forces for many years at that point, and the last thing we anticipated was that he would show up at the castle, demanding an audience with the king.  To say that we were nervous at the prospect of inviting such a powerful enemy inside our defenses would be a vast understatement.  The king, though, wanted to hear what his enemy had to say.

We did what we could to make the throne room safe, and gave Weaver his hearing.  To our surprise he did not come with hostilities in mind, at least not outwardly.

“The kingdom is in trouble, and whether or not we agree about how it should be run, I don't believe either of us is ready to face this new threat on our own.  I have entire armies at my disposal, but they do no good if they cannot be moved freely across the land as needed.  It is time that we established some form of peace, so that we might concentrate on the real problem at hand.”  Weaver told the king.  It was exactly what needed to be said, and it was a credit to him that he was the first to say it.  However, I was no fool.  I suspected, and I later discovered the king also suspected, that Lucidil had other motives in his offer of peace.  For the kingdom, though, sacrifices had to be made, and Lucidil, whatever his motives, was thinking clearly enough to see what was needed.

The king and Lucidil set about creating their treaty, and within a week they had come to an understanding.  Both of them made concessions, and in the end neither got everything they'd initially demanded.  Lucidil demanded he be made heir to the throne, but the king was not ready to give him that at the time.  The king demanded that Lucidil turn over his armies to my authority, but Lucidil was unprepared to do that.  In the end, Lucidil accepted the position of Steward of the Lands of Men, and the king accepted Lucidil's oath to always use his armies for the benefit of the kingdoms of man.

Other concessions were made as well.  The king and Lucidil agreed to share research, and from that came the Black Patch Brigade.  Lucidil agreed to stop production of the new Lucidil fabric, since the king deemed the cost per cloak too terrible.  The rebel leader also agreed to stop using forbidden magics, despite the fact that they might have aided in the war effort.  Most forbidden magic was forbidden for a reason.

“Wait, what cost was so high that the king would give up the new Lucidil cloaks?”  I asked, my curiosity momentarily side tracked from Ethaniel's story.  My cloak seemed to feel chilly for a moment, as though it had let a gust of the winter cold through its fabric, but it passed as fast as my question.

Ethaniel's already grim features grew darker.  “Magic is sacrifice, Lowin.  Lucidil discovered a way to increase the power of his cloaks, but the sacrifice necessary was deemed too great for the gains attached.  Lucidil's new fabric required a source of fresh and vibrant energy in order to maintain the enchantments.  Children, usually multiple children, were bled into the fabric to bind the magic to the cloth.  Their life force was the strongest that Lucidil could find.”

I stood aghast.  I found myself in a place beyond speech.  Why hadn't I ever considered the cost of Lucidil's fabric?  I knew that all magic required sacrifice, but it had never occurred to me that human lives may have been spent to create clothing.  I had worn one of those cloaks for a long time without ever asking from where it had come.

“The standard cloaks contain the lives of condemned men and women, those sentenced to death for crimes against the country.”  Ethaniel continued.  “Their lives are forfeit anyway, so the king saw no ill in putting them to good use.”

The fabric wrapped around me had gone chill again, or at least it seemed that way to me.  Suddenly I did not feel comfortable beneath the shifting layers that entrapped me.  I looked at Ethaniel, and the fact that he never wore a cloak suddenly took on a dark new meaning.  Had he shed his cloak because of the way that they were created, or had it been a purely aesthetic decision as I'd once believed?

“You might as well keep wearing it.”  The four-eyed Knight said, watching me intently.  “It protects you, and you've already worn it this long.  Those cloaks have saved many lives over the years, perhaps more lives than have been spent in their crafting.  Is that not what is important?”  The question, I knew, was not one to be answered, but to be pondered.  I kept quiet, mulling over the moral implications of the Lucidil fabric in my mind.  At my side, Malice uneasily shifted beneath her own cloak.

Ethaniel resumed his story.

The king and Lucidil began their campaign to halt the Hungering.  Lucidil called upon those loyal to him to aid the land in a time of crisis and they all rallied to his side.  The king called upon his bravest men to join the battle line, and from across the kingdom men too stepped to the front.  We carpeted the shoreline with our soldiers, waiting for the coming Hungering tide, and we did not have to wait long.  Despite the warnings of our silver-eyed friend, we were not ready for the force that struck the coast.  At first they came in single ships, and we pushed them back, still suffering immense casualties from their black drakes.  We dug in and fought as hard as we could, but little did we know that we merely faced their first scouting parties.  Then the Hungering's main force arrived.

Hundreds of ships lined the horizon, sailing for shore against the wind.  Those few who saw it and lived to tell say that the entire ocean writhed with dark ships, driven by their blue fire.  The Black Patch Brigade, those creatures born of Fell Beast and man, took their first steps in that battle, and proved how useful they could be.  We did not hold the coast, but with the Black Patch we saved many lives and stopped the Hungering from completely overrunning our lands.

It was during this time that Lucidil began to show his strengths.  He led the men with vigor, and showed a bottomless understanding of strategy and its application.  The king was impressed.  He saw in Lucidil the traits necessary to save the people of the lands of men and beyond.

The Black Patch Brigade, having been successful, were then produced in greater and greater numbers, until there were enough of them that they could be used for policing the populace as well as fighting the war.  They were easy to create, and once bound, were loyal and controllable to a fault.    The people feared them, and the city streets dried up as they went about their patrols.  In the name of protection, the king had set free monsters to keep the peace.  Under the circumstances, it was the best that could be done.

It was not long after this that the king received word, through his advisor Tyvel, that you were making your way to the capital and that you brought important information that would aid us in our battle against the Hungering.  At that point the king distrusted you more than he distrusted Lucidil, who had proven himself time and again in the course of battle.  You were still seen as a betrayer, one who had turned his back on country and fellow, though in truth you had been mostly forgotten in the face of the more pressing troubles of the kingdom.

The king saw your return as both a boon and a threat. If you could be controlled, he felt that you could be an important pawn in the coming battles, but he feared that you moved with your own purposes.  He consulted Lucidil, who refused to offer advice where you were concerned, and he consulted me.  I told him that it was foolish to turn aside information in a time of battle, even if it was inaccurate information.

The king made his decision.  He would allow you in to the castle, and grant you an audience.  If you could provide information to help the cause, and even if you couldn't, he would offer you and Malice your places amidst the Knights once more.  It was a generous offer, since both of you stood accused of high treason.  Further adding to your value, Tyvel had been leaking information regarding a mysterious transformation in Malice that had made her stronger and faster than she had been before.  He told of her eyes reawakening, and said that he believed you knew the secrets to this change.

As a ruler in a precarious position, with a terrible war being waged all around him, the king could not pass up the chance to learn a way to improve the might of his most powerful warriors.  He had hoped that you would share your secrets once he'd offered you your place amidst the Knights again.  Of course, Lowin, you know what was to follow.

Insulted in his own thrown room, and accused of crimes he had not committed in front of his own court of advisors, the king was left with little choice.  He had you and Malice imprisoned, and should have had the both of you executed.  However, he still saw value in your lives.  He hoped that, in time, you would see the advantage of helping his cause.  He especially hoped that such would be the case if he applied pressure.  As I've said, sometimes a king must do unpleasant things to reach his ends.

In time, after a failed attempt to get information from you, the king forgot about you.  Though, to be more accurate, he simply didn't have the time to worry about you any longer.  Despite the Black Patch Brigade, and despite the work of Lucidil and his armies, the kingdom was slowly losing ground in the battle against the Hungering, and it became imperative that the king's every waking moment be bent towards waging war.

I knew the truth of what had happened with you and Malice.  I believe the king knew it as well, though we never spoke of it.  Lucidil had pulled strings that he should have never had his fingers upon, and had sent you spiraling, like a long bladed knife in flight, straight at the heart of the king.  Knowing that mattered little.  Lucidil, for all that he was dangerous, was an asset that the king simply couldn't afford to lose.  The king said nothing, and so neither did I.

You and Malice suffered for that, and I apologize.  For the greater good, sometimes individuals must suffer.

The years passed, but the battle never shifted in our favor.  We held our ground at times, and fell back at others, but we never made progress.  In the third year after your imprisonment, on a routine inspection of the lines, a group of Hungering broke through our defensive front while the king was on patrol, and attacked in force.  The king fell in the initial assault, before anyone could even get to him.  He died on the battlefield, which is how I believe he would have preferred to meet his end.  He was a brave man, for all that he was a ruler.

The king had no heirs, for he had never taken a wife.  It had always been his intent to choose his successor on merit, rather than through rite of blood, and so that is what came to pass.  Of all his advisors, and all of those related to him through blood, he saw only one man that he felt stood even the slightest chance of carrying a victory against the Hungering.  Lucidil was given the crown and kingship of the lands of men.  There was no coronation, and there was no fanfare.  No one questioned his right to rule, because no one wanted to take the position of king during a time in which the position would likely lead to death.

Some suspected foul play in the king's death, as it seemed obvious that Lucidil, once an enemy to the crown, probably still retained his desire to see the downfall of the king, but I can say beyond a certainty that the king died as one only can in the random tempest of the battlefield.  I watched the Hungering drag him into their holes myself, unable to reach the man who I had served under for nearly thirty years.  We never found his body, but as you know the Hungering do not leave bodies behind.  They devour every enemy that falls across their lines.

Lucidil was not shocked when he was told the crown was to be his.  He did not need any time to adjust to his new role, and he did not force any ceremony upon the people.  Instead, he assumed leadership of the king's men in addition to his own, and the battle continued.  There was no gap between the rule of the two kings.  The fallen king had willed his leadership to Lucidil, and so it was done.

“That is how Lucidil ascended to the throne, and that is why I serve him now.  I am a king's man, whether I agree with his views and methods, or not.  So long as he works to better the kingdom of man, then I will stand and fight at his side.”  Ethaniel finished his story.

Hearing the tale play out from Ethaniel's perspective, and from the view of the king, I felt ashamed of the part I'd played in it all.  I wondered if my intervention, my rebellion, had worked against the king, depriving him of the men he needed to stave off the Hungering attack.  I had certainly not helped the cause.

One thing still bothered me, though.  It was a detail that I could not make myself forget.  Why had Weaver not dissolved the Uliona contract that bound them to give their strongest and most powerful to the lands of men as sacrifice for the Knights of Ethan?

“What of the Uliona contract?  Weaver lost the woman he loved to that deal.  How could he continue to use it, knowing the terrible cost it brings?”  I pressed, not willing to give up on my outrage over that.

Ethaniel looked confused.  “I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Weaver loved the woman who he was bound to, it's why his eyes are so red . . .” I began, but Ethaniel shook his head.

“I don't know what Weaver told you, but he was not bound to a woman, and he did not love the person he was bound to.  In the history of the Knights, there have only been three cases where a female was bound to a male.  You two," He pointed to Malice and me.  “and one other Knight, a young woman, was bound to a male Uliona.  Their love affair was discovered, and both of them were reprimanded.  Two weeks later, we found them both dead in her room, wrists slashed.  No, Weaver is not one of the three, despite what he may have told you.”

Waves of shock rippled through me.  That news undermined everything I had believed about the nature of the Knights of Ethan, and corroded any last kinship I could have felt for Weaver.

“. . . but his eyes are so vivid, the bond must have been . . .” I tried to explain why Ethaniel must certainly be wrong, but the mostly black-eyed Knight shook his head.  My conviction faded.

“Weaver was not going to ascend to the rank of Knight.  He had proven unpredictable, and highly dangerous.  He fought like a demon, and would put his life on the line for the others of his division, but the king, who was hand picking every candidate of Knighthood at the time, felt that making him a Knight was too great a risk.  He forbade the transfer of the eyes to Lucidil, but the young would-be Knight refused to accept the king's decision.  He tracked down his Bound One, tied him down, and performed the rite of transference himself.  The Uliona's name was Reyn, and he had bright blue eyes, as pure and light as a summer sky.  I remember him.”  As Ethaniel said the words, "I remember him," a pained look crossed his features.  How many names and faces, I wondered, were imprinted on his long memory?

“Once Lucidil had completed the process, we had no choice but to allow him to ascend to full Knight.  He became a Knight of Ethan.  We tried to move him away from the main fighting, to put him in a place where he could do less harm, so we made him a researcher.  That is when he created the Lucidil fabric.  He was brilliant, even then, and excelled at everything he learned.  He rose amongst us, and though the Knights of Ethan carry no rank, he was considered a second only to myself.”

“He was so very powerful.  His eyes, red eyes unlike any I've ever seen in Uliona, were like twin fires of determination.  He fought well, he studied well, and he was ambitious.  But he also lied, and stepped upon anyone who got in his way.” Ethaniel's gaze was far away as he remembered.

“Yet you follow him as king. . .”  I said, having trouble believing everything I'd just heard.  Everything I thought I knew of Weaver wasn't true.  I couldn't begin to fathom his motivations.

“I follow the king, and Lucidil is King.”  Ethaniel stated, much as he had before.  He paused a moment before adding, “He was my friend, in those days, a man equal to myself, maybe stronger.  I respected him, and I fought beside him.  One cannot forget their friends.”

“Your friend is a monster.”  Malice spoke quietly.  Her voice was not accusatory, and I don't believe she meant it as a slight.

Ethaniel shrugged.  “Are we not all monsters?  Historians will judge us at some point, and what do you think they will write of you and I?  What do you think they will write of King Weaver, the man who saved the kingdom of men?”

“He hasn't saved us yet.”  I pointed out.

The winged Knight smiled.  “. . . But he will.”  There was a certainty in Ethaniel's voice that I myself did not feel.

“. . . And I thought you said you were not a good story teller, Ethaniel.”  Lucidil's voice sounded from behind us, and as one we turned to face him as he pushed through the tent's entrance.  That he had gotten so close without alerting any of us was a testament to his skills at stealth.  Both Ethaniel and I had the ears of a Fell Beast, and our hearing was ten times as sharp as that of a normal man.  He should not have been able to get so close without attracting some attention.

“You surprise us all.”  The king said.  I could not read the emotion behind his voice, if there was any, but at seeing the man who'd lied to me so many times in the past I felt a great surging of anger.

“You've lied to me from the very beginning.”  I accused, for if I didn't say something, I feared I might explode with the rage the welled up inside of me.

“I have.”  He said nonchalantly.  “Sometimes the truth needs to be obscured to allow way for necessity.  I needed you to serve me, and you would not have served my ambition if you didn't believe there was a noble cause behind it.  If you would have served, you would not have done so with your heart, and you are a man driven by your heart.”

I remembered the look of profound pain that had filled his face as he'd told me of his past and the terrible events that had taken place up to the point that the woman he loved, the woman who I now knew had never existed, had been killed.  I couldn't understand how he could create such a believable pretense of loss.

“That look of pain . . .” I began, but Lucidil shook his head.

“We all have painful moments in our lives.  I simply channeled the emotions I needed at the appropriate times.”  His red eyes seemed to almost flare as he looked at me.  “You were easy to deceive, Noble, because you desperately wanted to believe in something.  You seem convinced that everyone should be motivated by the same foolish sense of duty that drives you, but that is just not the way of the world.  The world is a hard and terrible place, and you have to be hard and terrible to succeed.”

That he had lied was shocking enough, but that he could so coldly brush aside all of his mistruths, and all that he had done, shook me to the core of my being.  I looked upon him now, and he seemed not a man, not a Knight, not even a mortal creature. All I could see was a terrible, dark monster for which everything, every person in the world was merely a tool of purpose.  What ultimate goal, I wondered, could he be so set upon that he would give up the essence of his honor?

“Why do you do all of this?  What do you hope to achieve?”  I asked him.

“I want what all men want.”  He said, a smile touching his lips.  “I want to leave my mark upon the world, and I want to be remembered forever.  None of us can be certain how long the Knights of Ethan can actually live if not killed, so I want to make sure that, should I die, the world will never forget the name of King Lucidil.”  His eyes really did blaze then.  He seemed on the verge of saying something more, but he closed his mouth and smiled instead.

“You three, Malice, Noble, Ethaniel, you are essential to my plans.”  Weaver's red eyes fell upon the four-eyed Knight.

“Ethaniel, you are strong, and one of the most skilled warriors I have ever fought beside.  You are also, as you told Noble and Malice, one of very few that I would call a friend.  I had thought us forever separated, but times have brought us back together, and I am happy for that.”  The king's red eyes next turned to Malice.

“Malice, I was one of those who taught you the sword, before I even ascended to full Knighthood.  You were a young girl then, and I saw potential in you, though I did not anticipate that you would come so far.  Lowin has made of you something even more potent than you were as the sword master of the Knights of Ethan.  When I look at you I see great deeds in the making.  Strong men will fall to you, and empires will be broken at your sword.  What is more, you are important to Noble, and that makes you important to me.”  Next, the fiery eyes sought mine.

“Noble, they said you would be special.  All of my spies reported the same thing.  You continually proved yourself limited by only experience, and when I finally met you myself, I knew that I had encountered a warrior without peer.  Right now you might not be ready to fight Malice or Ethaniel in single combat, but there will come a time when you will exceed them both.  I see no end to your potential.”

“You three are the strongest amidst a group of unstoppable titans.  I know," The king's red eyes beamed with excitement, or exultation.  I couldn't be sure which, but I found it cast him in a frightening light, “that we cannot be stopped so long as we stand together.  Who could possibly stand against us united?  Together we can forge history.”

His words were spoken with fervor, but they struck me as being hollow.  Weaver's ambitions, his dreams, were the dreams and ambitions of every king who had come before him, only made more spectacular by the power of his mind, and the strength of his body.  Of course, knowing that made no difference to me.  He was my king whether I liked it or not.  He had my daughter firmly in his grasp, and that meant that I must serve him without question.  For the time, as he fought the Hungering at least, I could fight at his command and not feel that I was doing the world a disservice, but how long would that last?  I wondered what was to come if we defeated the Hungering.

That was another problem.  Weaver was so certain of his own victory, but we had made no progress against the enemy we faced.  Indeed, the Hungering were pushing us back easily.  The Knights of Ethan were reduced to a mere 15, and our other forces were being ground away at a terrifying pace against the wall of unending Hungering creatures.

“What would you have us do?”  I asked, looking to the table strewn with papers, plans, and maps, ignoring all that had been said, and all that had been revealed within that tent.  The truth, terrible though it was, did not change the situation, and did not alleviate the need for me to do the duty I was to be assigned.

Weaver nodded at me, that same smile touching the corner of his lips, as though my concession to his lies was a victory on some level.  Perhaps, I thought, it was.  I had not killed him, yet again, though he was a man who certainly had earned no respect or love from me.  He saw my acceptance of my duty as an acceptance of himself, but he was wrong in that.  I hated Weaver with a greater passion than I ever had before.  I wondered what Malice thought of the situation.  I had been too caught up in my own thoughts to pay attention to her reactions, and I found myself wishing I had the time to talk with her about all that had transpired.

Lucidil walked to the table and unrolled a map, placing paperweights upon it at its corners to hold it unfurled.  The map covered a wide stretch of land, including the valley we occupied, the capital city we had abandoned, and the areas surrounding those locations.  Lucidil pointed to a spot on the map several miles beyond the walls of the fallen capital.  He tapped the unrolled map.

“The Shao Geok and the rest of my allies are en-route to this point.  They have been circling wide for weeks now, traveling on orders to prepare a surprise rush at the back of the Hungering forces.  The problem is that things have changed significantly since those orders were given, and I have not found a way to get a scout through the Hungering line to send new orders.  What's more, it is vital that those forces, my hidden spear, have a very clear understanding of the lay of the battlefield.  Since the Hungering burrow to attack and track by sound, we cannot rely on having scouts in the field reporting in, but we do still have a way of knowing where they are.”  Lucidil looked at Ethaniel.

Ethaniel nodded.  “With my new eyes,” he gestured towards his gray-smoke filled sockets, “I can see things that are happening far away, whether I have a direct line of sight or not.  I have not perfected this ability, and certain types of rock seem to disrupt its functioning, but I should be able to use this to help steer our army in the right direction once the battle begins.  I can even see into the earth at times, if there is something alive for my eyes to focus upon.  The problem lies in the fact that I need to reach our other forces intact, and to do that we have to cut a line directly through the center of the Hungering's primary military force.”

“Why don't we go around?”  I asked, not understanding why it wouldn't be simpler to avoid the brunt of the Hungering's military.

“The Hungering are currently spread between these two points.”  Weaver traced a line on the map.  It was much larger than I had anticipated.  “It would extend the journey, even for you, by four or five days to safely go out and around.  In five or six days, if we do not have rear support, we will have lost this valley.  If you cut through the center and travel as fast and hard as you can, you can reach my other army in three days, and in a fourth they begin their assault on the rear forces of the Hungering.”

“Ethaniel could fly there, taking less risk, and probably get there much faster.”  Malice said, a suggestion I hadn't even considered.

Lucidil shook his head. “No, the wings are impressive, and they are powerful, but Ethaniel and I cannot fly for more than a minute or two.  Even with our strength, flying takes too much energy.  Ethaniel could make the trip by wing, taking breaks every minute, but that would put him alone in hostile territory repeatedly.  The options have been considered.  This is the best way.”

Lucidil took a quill from the table and scratched an “X” on the map.  He then carefully traced the line of the Hungering forces. He waited a moment while the ink dried and then picked up the map and rolled it, slipped it into a metal carrying container, and handed it to me.  I took it from him, and secured it to my pack.

“What are we to do once we've delivered Ethaniel safely to his destination?”  I asked, wanting only to be told that I could return to see my daughter, and to make sure that she was safely away from the battle that was about to explode all around us.

“By that time the ground rams will be in effect, and the battle will be fully underway.  I want you to fight with those rear forces, and to eventually make your way back here.”  Weaver answered.

“Ground rams?”  I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

“You saw them on your way in, I do not doubt.  They look like a battering ram pointed at the ground.”  Weaver's brief description stirred my memory of the devices we had passed being built all throughout the camp.

I nodded that I had indeed seen them, though I'd had no idea what they were at the time.

“They pound on the rock, and confuse the Hungering's ability to navigate underground.  They will come up to attack the ground rams, and we will kill them as they emerge.  At least, that is the plan. They have not been tested yet.”  Weaver smiled, though even he looked slightly worried at the untested tool.

“If there are no more questions. . .”  Weaver began, but one question still remained for me.

“There is one. . .”  I said, and Weaver nodded.

“Kaylien, you will take her far away from here, won't you?  I want her to be safe.”  My question was more of a demand than a simple query.

The king nodded.  “I will have Ferocity take her out of the camp and to the city where the refugees are being kept.  There, Fero will stay and keep watch over our daughter.  If anything happens, Fero is more than capable of getting them both safely out.”

I breathed a deep sigh of relief.  My own life I did not worry about, but I wanted to be certain Kay would be safe, and with the Hungering drawing ever nearer, that safety was certainly in question.

“Don't worry, Noble.  There is nothing in the world that would make me put that little girl in harm's way.”  Weaver said, placing his hand on my shoulder.  I tried not to shy away from his touch, but I flinched at his fingers, as though they burned.  He either didn't notice, or didn't care.

“If you have everything you need, I recommend you get on your way before the camp has fully roused.  It will mean less interference.”  Lucidil said.  It was time to go.

I walked out of the tent and into the morning.  The sky was still dark, but at the horizon the faintest hint of dawn could be seen.  The Hungering would be returning to their holes soon enough and that would give us at least a few hours of safe traveling.  With the winter days decreasing in length, those few hours would be short indeed.  Still, it was better than traveling in full night.  The first day of travel would be quiet.

Malice fell in at my side, and then Ethaniel stepped out in front of us, his wings wrapped about his shoulders.  He looked like a dark god, his face framed in long black hair and topped by his large spiraling horns.  He was the sort of being one only thought to encounter in legends, and yet it was he that would be leading us on our journey.  He walked through camp quickly, seeming to barely touch the ground as he moved, and Malice and I fell in behind him.

I gave one last look over my shoulder as we departed the camp, my eyes scanning the silent tents.  I felt certain if I could just watch long enough I might see Kay one more time before we left.  I knew it was an idle fancy, but I couldn't stop myself from looking.  I had gotten so close to her, only to have to now leave her behind once more.  She would not miss me when I was gone, but I knew that I would think of her every day that I was away.  That knowledge was its own kind of torment.

“Be safe, Kay.”  I said softly.  I knew she did not hear the words, but I wanted to believe that by uttering them, I could force their meaning into reality.  I turned my attention back on the path ahead, and saw Malice's head turning forward as well.  Had her thoughts been similar to mine?  Had she wished Kay a last farewell also?  I couldn't know.

As the sun crept up in the sky, the landscape about us began to change and shift.  We kept a near suicidal pace, crashing through the forest with reckless abandon.  Though our rate of travel was dangerous, we were not moving at the highest speed we could manage.  There were many miles between us and our destination, and we'd need to conserve some energy for any fighting that we might encounter along the way.  We had to balance our speed with our caution, and hope we made the right choice.

We crossed into the lands the Hungering were believed to occupy, and it was as though the life in the world around us had been snuffed out like a candle.  With the trees sleeping for the winter, and the pervasive silence that surrounded us, the world seemed a dead place.  Even with my sensitive ears, I could hear nothing but the occasional breath of wind through the skeletal remains of winter trees.

“They're below us.”  Ethaniel said as we ran.  His second eyes, the gray, smoke-filled orbs, were as disturbing as they'd ever been, but they seemed to be focused elsewhere.  They no longer bore into me when he looked in my direction.

“They're all around us as well.  They've already carved out extensive tunnels in this area.  They will definitely start their assault on Lucidil's fortifications tonight.  They might not even wait for full dark.  The burrowers don't seem to hate the sun as much as those that follow after.”  He added.

“What of the drakes?”  Malice asked him, keeping pace on the other side of Ethaniel.

“They don't travel below ground, though they do live there.  They'll come across land.  I'm not sure where they are as of yet.  I can't see them.”  Ethaniel answered.  “Right now, though, that is not our biggest concern.”

“Reaching the army is our goal.”  I said, certain that was what he meant.

Ethaniel shook his head.  “No, our biggest concern is that the Hungering know we're up here.”  He looked grim.  I couldn't blame him, because I too felt a sense of dread at that knowledge.

“Certainly they can't track us while we’re traveling at these speeds?”  Malice's voice betrayed her shock.

“They can, and they are also able to communicate across great distances.  I don't know how it's done, but we can be certain that the enemy lays in wait ahead of us.  They are waiting for nightfall.  That is their time.”  Ethaniel's voice was calm.  He delivered what information he had, and his opinions, as solid facts, left no room for argument.  That, I noticed, was a trait of those who'd lead men for any length of time.  It was better to leave no room for questioning.

“Can you see far enough ahead to tell us where, and how many of the enemy there are?”  I had decided I would prefer to known what I was running into.

“No, my vision gets imprecise not far ahead of us.  There must be some of the yellow stone in the ground that seems to cloud my ability to see.  Until we're past it, I cannot see much further than you can.”  Ethaniel explained.  His ability, for all that it could be useful, had some striking limitations.  I would have preferred not to have to depend upon it at all, but I knew that it might very well be our death if we chose to ignore Ethaniel’s words.

Part of my distrust of Ethaniel's ability was, I knew, caused by the gray eyes that carried the power.  Ethaniel talked of using the ability to our benefit, but every time I saw those malicious orbs, I couldn’t help but wonder whether we were using them or if they were really using us.  I couldn't shake the impression that there was some dark intent, an evil intelligence, behind the smoke.  Ethaniel seemed changed from when I'd first met him, and I believed those eyes to be the cause.

My gaze kept returning to the sun.  The hours of the day were flying by far too quickly.  It would be full dark in another hour, and the enemy lay hidden somewhere below us.  We couldn't risk stopping for the night, there just wasn't enough time.  Even if we did risk a pause, the Hungering would surely be upon us in a matter of minutes.  So long as we walked upon the ground over their heads, they would always know where we were.  We would be crossing the land above them for at least the first three days of our journey.  My thoughts wondered through the dangers of our position, and I began to ponder what fighting we might have to do to reach our destination.  For the first time, the true risk of what we were undertaking struck home.

The road ahead was long and dangerous, and we might have to fight for every mile we gained.  What was worse, if we didn't reach our destination fast enough, all of this risk would be for nothing.  If we let the Hungering slow us down too much, the king's men would be destroyed before we could send help back to them.  What would become of us then?  What would become of Kay?  I forced that thought to the back of my mind.  I couldn't afford to be distracted.

“Once the fighting starts, we kill just enough of them to get through, and then we run.  We can't afford to stop and fight in one place for too long.  We have to keep moving. If need be, we can run at full speed.  It will exhaust us quickly, but the most vital part of our mission is that we reach the rear army and get them headed in the proper direction again.  If we don't do that, everything is lost.”  Ethaniel said, as though he had heard the very thoughts in my mind.

I didn't know Ethaniel well, but I sensed a certain desperation in his voice.  He was fighting for what he believed in, and he knew better than any of us the stakes.  Despite all the atrocities he had borne witness to over the years, and the death of so many Uliona in the process of making more Knights, he still cared about the land and the people.  It eased the tension in me to know that at least one of the people I was newly aligned with cared about what we were really fighting for.

“We'll punch straight through.”  I replied.  “We can put on speed the moment we see them and carve a path to safety.”

“If one of us falls, the others must go on.”  Malice added, and I looked to her, surprised that she would say such a thing.  Malice had stood beside me in many terrible situations, and I couldn't imagine leaving her behind if she fell in battle. Her green eyes flared in the evening light, lit by the falling sun and her own fierce determination.

“As much as it pains me, you speak the truth.”  Ethaniel answered, accepting Malice's grim ultimatum in the very way that I should have.  My heart, however, would not allow me that concession.

“None of us will fall.”  I said, and I burned those words into my soul.  None of us will fall.  I would not let any of those who fought beside me die.  I saw the others look at me, questions in their gazes I did not intend to answer.  Their eyes said, “Will you not do what is necessary to reach our ends?”  My heart could only answer, “None of us will fall.”

The sun faltered in the sky, sinking below the horizon in a wash of reds and purples that faded to dull blue, and darkness fell heavily about us.  We kept our pace fast, pushing ourselves even harder than we had earlier in the day.  It took all of our skill and grace to keep footing on the rough terrain.  An hour passed, and then a second as we flew through the darkness, and I began to wonder if Ethaniel had been incorrect in his guess that the Hungering would attack us in the night.  Maybe the Hungering did not know we passed above them, or maybe they didn't care since there were so few of us.  I was deceiving myself.

We crested a hill, and as a group we drew to a halt.  The valley floor was carpeted in red glowing eyes, all watching in our direction as though they'd anticipated our coming.  Of course, they had known we were coming for some time.  They had likely been waiting for hours, having received word through their own secret form of silent long-distance communication.

I drew my sword, and heard the gesture echoed by the other two members of our group.  None of us will fall.  I repeated those words in my head, a mantra to fight by.  I looked once more to Malice.  Especially you.  I cannot let you fall.

At that moment, standing atop a hill, staring into the face of death, I realized something that I should have known for years.  Malice wasn't merely a dear friend to me, though she had often been that.  She was so much more than that to me, indeed I truly loved her.  No matter what she thought of me – whether I was simply a friend to her or even merely an acquaintance with benefits – I loved Malice.  I was afraid to lose her.  I was terrified that she might die, and that I would be well and truly alone in the world.

My daughter was mostly lost to me, Kye, who I still loved, was gone forever, but Malice was still there.  All those years I'd spent alone in prison, I'd spent countless hours wondering if she was safe, and hoping that she would not forget about me.  Those times we'd been together physically, the tenderness, the closeness and safety I found in her arms, those times all came back to me then as I stood looking down at thousands of burning red eyes.  I was in love with Malice.

“None of us will fall.”  I said the words aloud.

I charged, my sword ready, the others at my side.  I didn't spare either of them another look, for I knew that the time for hesitation was at an end.  Death waited in the valley, and I had to either defeat him, or prepare myself to take his hand, and I didn't intend to fall.

Red eyes swarmed forward as a seething mass of violence, and the world lurched into a slowed pace as I drove myself into a flurry of speed, breaking the fragile limits of human men.  My sword blazed from enemy to enemy, severing limbs, inflicting mortal wounds, and then passing on to the next.  Somewhere deep inside my being the echo of giant, hungry jaws gnashed the air, drooling in blissful pleasure at the slaughter around me.

A six-legged beast broke from the pack of red eyes, charging to my left, in Malice's direction.  I dove left, severing the head of a Hungering warrior and using its corpses to propel myself forward in the process.  I thrust my sword out, and two of the six-legged creature's legs fell away from its body.  It turned to bite, moving far faster than a normal Hungering soldier could.  I brought my sword up and lodged the blade in its jaws, stopping what would have been a killing strike.  I willed my claws to their sharpest and lashed out at the demon's neck.  The force of the blow tore through its throat and into its spine.  I had to pry my sword free from its still clenched jaws before I could move on.

The Hungering advanced, coming from every side.  There were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, and they were all clambering to kill our three-person party.  My blade never stopped in its course, I couldn't afford to let it slow down.  I pressed every attack, killing with almost every blow.  Some weapons broke through my defense, but I ignored the minor wounds and pressed on.  Malice and Ethaniel were still fighting strong, doing better than I was.  I was the weakest fighter, I knew.  My companions had both honed their skills over hundreds of years.  I had always had trouble mastering the blade.

A thrum of sound rippled through the air, strangely familiar.  It took me a moment, a slowed moment, but I figured out what it was.  Bows.  I spun about, my eyes searching for the trails of movement that signaled bolts.  My eyes quickly found them, but they were coming too fast.  Ethaniel would be struck.  I willed my body faster.

My heart hammered, like thunder tears at the air.  I had to go faster.  A primal howl filled the inside of my body, as though some beast was lifting its head and giving praise to the moon.  My heart beat faster, stronger.  I pulsed forward, the ground shredding beneath my padded wolf's feet.  There was a peculiar singularity of purpose in me, as though the Fell Beast within was responding to my call to arms.  My sword blade quivered and flexed as I churned it through the air towards the incoming arrow, the metal of the weapon bending against the forces that resisted its motion.  My blade struck the arrow shaft and the dangerous projectile flew wide, but even then more thrums were filling the air.  More arrows were being fired, several.  Faster.

Fire filled my limbs, my bones ached with the pressure of my movement, but the world around me had slowed down even further.  Even Malice and Ethaniel, moving at blinding speeds, seemed to be dancing slowly through their movements.  I shifted direction and charged at the nearest arrow.  It was inching through the sky at a snail's pace.  I reached out, pushing through the terrible pressure that tried to resist my movements, and grabbed the arrow, twisting it in the air and throwing it back the way it had come.  Pain exploded in my palm.  My eyes shifted to my hand, and I saw the flesh rip, blood splashing from the wound in a slow dance.  I was applying too much stress to my body, and the arrow was moving too fast to touch it directly to my skin.

I dove for the next arrow, it was aimed for Malice.  I swung my claws at it.  The pressure against my arm was tremendous, but as my claws hit the arrow it shattered into countless tiny pieces.  I felt the impact through my arm, but it was far less dramatic than the pain I'd felt in my palm.  I'd found a way to deal with the arrows.  I darted from arrow to arrow, smashing them from the sky. I struck down any Hungering that was in my path.

Malice and Ethaniel were getting faster.  Though, in truth, I knew that I was slowing down.  My body could not maintain the levels I had pushed it to.  I fell back into the pace of battle, matching Malice and Ethaniel.  My body ached.  My legs and my arms felt as though they might break at any moment, the muscles were sore to the point that the pain interfered with my movements.  Still, I pushed myself forward.

I darted amidst the group of Hungering, looking for those with bows or crossbows.  As I found them, I killed them.  I didn't know if I could block another volley of arrows, but now that I knew they were coming, I could attempt to prevent further attacks.  A cold chill shot down my spine, and I spun around just in time to see a sword slip through Malice's defenses.  The blade passed in slow motion, slicing through the air with dangerous precision.  I could see it moving, but I was too far away to do anything about it.  Malice was engaged with three enemies.

The gleaming metal passed through fabric and struck flesh.  I saw the moment it made impact in terrible clarity.  Malice spun, her clawed left hand striking the blade aside, but the damage had already been done.  The blade drew a line of crimson red across her back as she spun.  I could see the blood course into the air, and that red filled my vision.  My heart hammered against the inside of my chest, and I dove forward.  The bestial howl from inside of me was suddenly ripping its way through my throat, and though I couldn't hear it clearly through the strange fog of high speed movement, I could feel it ripping my throat raw as it issued forth from me.

Snow. . .

Blood. . .

The hunt. . .

I was consumed by an insatiable rage which I couldn't seem to stifle.  My sword fell from my hands, forgotten as I dove forward with my claws, ripping and tearing at anything that chanced to cross my path.  Red eyes burned out with every strike of my clawed fists, but I did not slow.  I carved a path of blood and bone, rage growing with every opponent that fell before me.

Kill. . .

Faster. . .

The world was red, the bodies of my enemies were piling up around me, but I noticed little of it.  I was intent upon killing everything that dared raise a weapon to me.  I would have kept going until my claws had worn away, or my heart had faltered.  Maintain yourself.  Calm.  The fire is getting nearer . . . calm.  The words echoed through my mind, a familiar voice, feminine, yet gravelly, distant, reaching to me.  It was another voice, though, a louder, more pressing voice that finally broke the murderous haze that had fallen over me.

“Lowin, we have to run!”  A hand on my shoulder, I swung about and raised a clawed hand with the intent to strike out at whatever had dared come so close to me.  Two green eyes stared at me, and there was a hint of fear in them.  The words had cracked the haze, but it was that look of fear that shattered it entirely.

“Malice.”  I whispered her name.

“Run, now!”  Ethaniel's voice roared, rumbling with the power of “the voice.”

I dropped my clawed hand, and reached out towards Malice, though she shied away from me, fear still in her eyes.

“Run.”  I said, an echo of what everyone else had said, and she turned from me and dashed away.  I fell in beside her, Ethaniel in front of us, and we all ran with all that we were worth, pushing ourselves to the extent that our bodies would allow us to move.  Somehow we had cut through the enemy line.  I had not thought it possible, but we were free again, for a time.

I had nearly struck Malice, and not merely a harmless hit but a blow that could have severely injured, even may have killed her.  I had been so close.  Inside my heart a winter wind blew and the dark creature reveled in my blood lust.  Kill them all.  Kill everything.  It’s mind whispered at mine, pushing me, tempting me with its primal lust for murder.  I drove it back down inside of me, terrified of that darkness, and, in truth, terrified of myself.

Was I becoming the monster I had always feared I might?  We ran on in silence, chasing the dawn.  I knew not what the others were thinking, but my thoughts had turned dark.  What had become of me?  I wondered.  I would need to talk to Malice and Ethaniel.  I hoped that Malice would forgive me, but that look of fear I had seen on her face haunted me.  Malice had been my companion for a long time, and never once had I seen her wear such an expression aimed toward me.

I remembered the blood spraying from her back, and my gaze turned to her once again.  The wound had been minor.  With her healing power it was probably already sealed and well on its way to vanishing, but at the time, in the heat of battle. . .  The darkness within me howled in pleasure, and I shivered at the bitter chill that welled up from inside me.

We swam through the dark woods, twisting and spinning amidst the trees and dense ground coverings.  The footing was precarious.  The pace was dangerous, but we did not dare slow down again.  We stopped only once to check our map, and the conversation was sparse.  Ethaniel and Malice watched me the entire time, as though I might shed my skin and turn into one of the Hungering at any moment.  Ethaniel spoke to me only once, and Malice held her silence.

“Don't drop your sword again.  There are no extra provisions where we're headed.”  He said, and handed me my weapon, my forged king's steel sword.  I had carried multiple version of the weapon over the years.  They were good blades, but far from indestructible.  I hadn't seen him do so, but Ethaniel must have picked it up after I had abandoned it in the fight with the Hungering.  I took it from him and sheathed it in the empty scabbard at my side.  I noticed as I took the weapon that the fur of my forearms and hands was still matted with the blood of Hungering warriors; yet another grim reminder of my loss of control.

Ethaniel stared at me for a time, as if he expected an outburst of some type, but I had nothing more to offer.  I felt cold inside, and tired.  I knew I should talk to him about what had happened on the battlefield in the valley, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything about that terrible lust that had driven my frenzy.  I felt that I did not understand the experience well enough to explain it to someone else.  I had lost control of some part of myself, something that was less me and more the Fell Beast.

I cast my gaze on Malice, and she turned her head away from me, not meeting my eyes.  My heart fell.  What did I have left if Malice couldn't stand to look at me?  What more reason was there for me to go on in the world if I had nothing left for which to strive?  Those were foolish thoughts, I realized as soon as I had them.  Whether Malice, Ethaniel, or anyone else had any interest in me, I still had a purpose.  I would keep fighting until I couldn't any longer.  If nothing else, that much, at least, I could give to the world my daughter would have to grow up in.

We began to run once more, the trees flashing by, the sky above the only real way to navigate through the confusing mess of branches and brambles.  The hours wore upon us.  Every moment we expected another attack, yet the night rolled on without event, and then the dawn was upon us.  For some, that would have meant a time to rest, but we were not in a position to slow down, let alone stop.  We had a destination to reach, and we would press on until we reached it.

We traveled until Ethaniel pulled us up sharp with a raised fist.  Malice and I ground to a halt, churning up dirt and stone, as the double-sighted Knight looked out over the land before us. In our path lay a treeless clearing blanketed in snow, which stretched almost as far as the eye could see across the landscape, meeting the horizon with a barely visible tree line where the open field met the forest once more.

“Deadfalls.”  The horned Knight said.  His gray eyes were distant.  “Follow me very closely.  Step where I step, and nowhere else.  There are deep pits dug all throughout this clearing.  They have been prepared sometime since yesterday.  I checked this area last night and these traps were not here.  There is… something… in them. . .” His voice trailed off.  He seemed to be concentrating.

“I can't see it.  The stone in this area must be blocking it.  I can't see far beneath the ground, and I can't see beyond this field.  I can tell where the hole entrances are, though.  That will have to be enough.  Stay close.”  With those words, he turned away from us and gazed out over the expanse of white.

He took his first steps out onto the snowy field.  Ethaniel moved quickly, accelerating with every step, despite the inherent risk in doing so.  Malice followed behind him, and I followed behind her.  The snow made it easier to keep in pace with the person in front.  All one had to do was match print for print, keeping their feet aligned with the tracks of the person they were following.  The way was dangerous, but the snow was working to our advantage.  We were some distance into the field when my Fell Beast ears detected a low rumbling from somewhere below our feet.

“What's that?”  I called out, and we all stopped in place.  I could still hear the deep reverberation emanating from the ground below.  A breath's pace later I saw Ethaniel's ears perk up.  His gray eyes shifted, changing focus.  He was in deep concentration.  The rumbling grew louder.  Ethaniel's black eyes went wide.

“A trap!  We've been surrounded.  Draw arms!”  He called out, even as he drew his own weapon.  The rumbling became a deafening cacophony around us as the ground at our feet ruptured.  The Hungering poured out of hundreds of burrows hidden under the snow.  The ground below us continued to shake and churn, and with one last great heave it seemed as if the entire world fell away beneath our feet.

I lost sight of the others as the ground collapsed, swallowing me up like some greedy beast.  The darkness of the underground fell in around me, and I found myself surrounded by black lit only by the red orbs of burning eyes.  I fell hard to the ground, barely able to push my sword out far enough from my body to avoid falling on the blade.  I rolled to my feet, trying to get some bearing on my surroundings, but it was difficult.  The Hungering were everywhere, and with little light from above filtering down into the hole, my sight was tracking only motion.   The Hungering writhed, and the rock debris and dust sifted through the air, confusing my vision.

I felt the bone in my right shoulder crack and bend, mending what had been a broken bone, shattered in the rough landing I'd survived.  The situation had been so tense I hadn't even realized it was broken.  The injury knit itself back together with a searing, tingling itch that was terribly uncomfortable, but it was a sensation that I was becoming all too familiar with from my often injury.

I wanted to call out to the others - to Malice - but I couldn't risk giving away their positions just to satisfy my own concern for their wellbeing.  In the darkness there was nothing left to do but fight, and hope the others would be able to do the same.  I didn't dare hesitate a moment longer.  There were too many enemies around me to risk losing any more of the initiative.  I slowed the world about me and charged into the nearest group of writhing figures, swinging my sword in all the patterns and arcs I'd learned over the years.

My Hungering opponents seemed not to care that they were dying by the tens.  They pushed forward, washing towards me like an ocean wave battering a cliff.  I was, however, not as well-grounded as a cliff.  I could not stand forever against such numbers.  No one person could hope to do that.  Inside of me I felt a trickle of blood-hungry excitement.  The lust for death and murder was clawing up out of the darkness into which I'd cast it.

A Hungering soldier jumped onto my back, and I felt a knife pass into my lower left side, once, and then again.  I growled in anger, grabbing the creature by the neck and squeezing with more force than I had known my body could muster.  Muscle and bone fell apart beneath my grip, and the creature collapsed to the ground, thrashing in its death throes.  By the time it had hit the dirt, I had already killed four more of the enemy, my sword carving through bodies as easily as it could cleave air.

There were too many of them.  No matter how long I fought, or how many I killed, there would always be more of them.  What was worse, I couldn't hear either Malice or Ethaniel fighting.  I tried to block them from my mind, to tell myself that they would be alive if I was, but that fear ate away at my composure.  The murderous impulse, the hungry, insatiable lust for death, came to fill the gap left.  Every strike I made brought the monster further from the darkness within me, and into the light of existence.

I was soon fighting two battles.  The battle against the Hungering seemed hopeless.  They came from every side, biting, stabbing, and ripping at any piece of flesh they could get their teeth into.  The battle against the Fell Beast within me was equally hopeless.  I could hear the growls issuing from the monster's maw in my mind, and I could hear the same growl ripping its way through my raw throat.  I couldn't stop it.  All I could do was fight on, and try to keep myself ahead of the enemy, and ahead of the rising darkness inside of me.

My sword snagged on a rock, and one of the Hungering lunged forward at me, its teeth gnashing the air.  In my accelerated state, it seemed to tumble slowly through the air at me.  Instinct grabbed hold of my muscles and I lunged forward, ignoring my sword, and ignoring my claws.  My mouth snapped down on the creature's neck and I bit down with all the ferocity I could muster.  I felt warm ichor explode into my mouth.  Before I even realized what I had done, the creature fell away from me, choking on its own blood.  I had to force myself to spit the piece of flesh away, though my mouth watered at the prospect of chewing it and swallowing.

In rage, more at myself than at the enemy around me, I tore my sword free of the rock upon which it was snagged and hacked the body of the still retreating Hungering soldier to pieces.  Even then, having recovered from my lust for devouring the flesh, I knew I was not taking the actions of a calm and collected swordsman.  I was giving in to the violent urgings of the darkness within me.  I struggled to find my calm again, pushing through the slowed world about me, killing any pair of red eyes that came too close.  I was wading in a sea of blood and death, and keeping my head above it all was becoming more and more difficult.  As I killed with one hand, I wiped the congealing blood from my face with the back of the other.

Something dropped down from above me, not near me, but I caught the motion out of the corner of my eye.  It fell down from the dim light over-head, and it was quickly followed by another such shape.  Suddenly there were other figures all around me, dropping from the sky.  I prepared myself for the onslaught of even more enemies, but then the reality of what was happening struck me.  These new figures were fighting the Hungering, and passing in a wide circle around me.

They ran on all fours, but lurched up onto their rear legs to attack, striking with the clawed hands at the end of their powerful arms.  At first there were only a few of them, but more and more descended from the spot of light high above me, tumbling through the darkness with surprising grace to land amidst the throngs of Hungering.  In the dim light, I finally recognized the forms - they were Shao Geok.  A wave of profound relief washed over my entire being, a sensation that I had certainly never thought I would feel at their presence before.

I couldn't be certain from where they had come, but it was obvious they were fighting with me, and not against me.  My hold on the darkness within me strengthened, and I fought the enemies around me with a renewed vigor.

The battle waged for what felt like hours, but finally the Hungering force was decimated.  Only the Shao Geok and I remained in the darkness of the subterranean cave system.  I was weary, but alive.  My wounds, the many cuts and bruises, as well as the deep knife marks in my side, were already stitched back together.  My broken shoulder, as well, did not ache in the slightest.  It had held up for the full course of the battle.  After the Shao Geok had joined the fight, I had taken far fewer hits.

“Where are the other Knights?”  I asked one of the Shao Geok, it looked at me blankly.  There was no understanding on its features.  I knew that it wasn't because it was a stupid creature, but merely because it didn't speak my language.  I felt panic as I looked about me for any sign of Malice or Ethaniel, and found none.  They had been standing only a few feet from me when the ground collapsed.  I ran through the darkness, searching the bodies on the ground, trying to make out the shapes as well as possible in the deep black of the pit, but I could not find my companions amidst the dead, nor amidst the still living forms of the Shao Geok.

As I was running, a hand shot out and grabbed my ankle, and stopped me in my tracks.  I felt the cold moist skin of one of the Hungering against my furred flesh, and my immediate reaction was to draw my sword.  The creature, however, was dying, and I was in no mood for any more killing.  I sheathed my weapon.  It stared up at me with eyes that shone only dimly the palest red.

“Cast the vessel into the fire, draw it free, and cast it in once more.  This is how we make it strong.”  It spoke, the words not accented at all, though they were faltering, coming between ragged gasps of breath.  I could only gape at it in stunned silence.  I had not known the Hungering could speak, and certainly hadn't thought they could speak my language.  At that moment, having delivered its message, the creature’s eyes flickered from red to darkness.  Between that short moment between life and death, it seemed that they almost certainly shone a vivid blue.

A thousand questions poured into my mind at that time, and I would have thousands more if I'd been given a few hours to think, but I would of course not have such an opportunity.  “Cast the vessel into the fire. . .”  Its voice had been strange, light and almost serene as it faltered.

I stared at the corpse for a time, lost in thought.  They could speak our language, and they could speak it clearly.  What did that mean?  What had its dying words meant?  It had grabbed my ankle, and it seemed to be speaking with a purpose, but what purpose?  A clawed hand grabbed my shoulder and I spun, hand on hilt.  It was one of the Shao Geok.  There was no challenge in its eyes.

I forced my hand away from my sword hilt.  The Shao Geok pointed upwards, towards the spot of light high above.

“Others.”  It said, its voice a growl in its throat.  “Above.”  It added after a moment.  Relief rushed over me.  By “others” I hoped that it meant Ethaniel and Malice.

“Malice, Ethaniel?”  I asked, hoping for clarification before getting my hopes too high.

“Horns.  Greened light.”  The Shao Geok made a gesture for horns on his head when he said “horns,” and pointed to his eyes when he said “greened light.”  If that wasn't a description of Malice and Ethaniel, then I wasn't sure what was.

“Thank you.”  I said, though the Shao Geok didn't seem to care for the nicety one way or the other.  He simply turned and walked off into the dark.  He joined the others in collecting the bodies of the fallen Hungering.  For what purpose, I didn't want to know, but I could guess.

I made my way to one of the walls of the pit into which I'd fallen.  They were steep, but also roughly textured.  Someone without my advantages might have trouble climbing them, but I didn't foresee any difficulty.  I leaped high and pierced the wall with the lethal tips of my claws.  Scaling the wall wasn't difficult, even though my body was tired from constantly running, and the long hours of fighting.  I'd been in worse condition before.  At the top, I was greeted with an encouraging sight.

The Shao Geok, as well as other members of Lucidil's army, were filing into the clearing, filtering through the tree line.  They didn't seem to march in any particular order, but they made for a fearsome sight.  There were Uliona warriors, truly a rare sight, and warbands of clans of man not normally associated with the king, as well as some of the other, rarer, races of our land, many I did not even know by name.  They were all men and women who had come to fight under Lucidil when he was scheming to take the crown from the king.  It was somehow heartening to see them joined with the king's men to fight the threat of the Hungering, even if they only served because Lucidil was now the king.

If they could come together to battle a common enemy, was there hope that someday they might live together under a flag of peace?  Had the Hungering done for the people what generations of kings had never achieved?  Only time would tell, I knew.  My eyes scanned across the busy clearing, looking for Malice and Ethaniel.  In truth, though, it was more for Malice that I searched than Ethaniel.  She found me before I could find her.

Approaching footsteps, paws on snow, caught the attention of my acute hearing.  I turned just in time to feel Malice put her arms around me.  I found myself locked in her vice-like grip, bound by muscles that could forcibly bend a metal shield, or crush the bones of an enemy to dust.

“I thought you were dead when you fell.”  She whispered into my hair as she held me tight.  I put my arms around her, and returned the gesture.  It felt good to hold her.

“I feared the same of you and Ethaniel.”  I said as Malice pulled away, straightening her cloak about her and doing her best to put on her look of stern disassociation once more.

“When the ground collapsed," I continued.  “I thought we were all together.  Once I was down there, though, I couldn't find anyone.”

“We jumped aside when the ground began to give.”  Malice explained.  “I thought you were right behind me.  It wasn't until the Hungering began to attack that I realized you hadn't made the jump when the area we were standing on broke free.  Ethaniel and I fought up here for nearly a half an hour before Lucidil's army found us.”

I looked across the quickly filling clearing at those gathered around us.  I was incredulous.  “How did they even get here?  They were supposed to be much further north.”

“Their commander detoured south to avoid a rough river crossing.  They were about to turn north again when they came across a contingent of the Hungering.  They've been following the Hungering line ever since, and it lead them here.  It was fortunate for us.  We wouldn't have lasted on our own.  It was also fortunate for them, because our battle alerted them to the ambush that had probably been set for them.”

I nodded at Malice's explanation.  It made sense.  The Hungering had sent far too many people just to stop the three of us, and now the reasoning seemed clear; those forces hadn't been sent for us.  They had been sent to stop Lucidil's rear force, and had just happened to encounter us as well.  It occurred to me that perhaps the Hungering forces had been sent to deal with both of us.  If the enemy army had been sent for such a reason, it certainly must not have been as effective as they hoped.  We had destroyed their entire army over the course of five or six hours.  Were they simply attempting to buy time so that their main force could dig into Lucidil's defenses before we arrived?  I hadn't considered that the Hungering might be using such sophisticated tactics.

“Where is Ethaniel?”  I asked, noting I still hadn't seen the horned Knight, and eager to get my mind out of the useless circles it could run in trying to understand what the Hungering were doing.

“He's with this army's commander, telling him exactly what needs to be done so that we can meet up with Lucidil's forces.  From here on out, it's going to be a hard fight.”  Malice answered.

It seemed to me that it had already been a hard fight.  I wondered how many more battles I would have to survive before I could return to Kay again.  How many more enemies would I need to kill?  Would I be able to fight the darkness that was growing inside of me long enough to see the end of the war against the Hungering?  It seemed to me that it might never end.  I had lapsed into silence for a long time, and Malice was watching me.

“I'm sorry for. . .” I began, ready to make an apology for frightening her during our previous fight.  I still remembered the look of fear that had been in her eyes.

“Lowin," She interrupted me.  “your mouth is bleeding. . .”

I reached up and touched my lips, my hand came away bloody.  I had feared it would be the blood of the Hungering I had bitten into, but the blood was red, and freshly warm

“What?”  I asked the air, and did not expect an answer.  I reached a finger into my mouth, and felt around.  My front teeth were sore.  I probed them with a finger, and one of my teeth fell out.  It landed in the dirt before me.  I stared at it for a moment in shock.  A moment later a sharp pain ripped through the tissue beneath where the tooth had previously been.  I reached back into my mouth.  There was a new tooth in place of the old one.  The tooth was long, and pointed, erupting from where my previously human canine tooth should have been.

Another pain ripped through my jaw as another tooth fell from my head, replaced by a jutting fang.  Twice more it happened, until both my top and bottom jaws were lined with four sharp fangs.

“What is happening?”  I asked Malice, hoping she would have answer, but she simply shook her head.

“I don't know.  I've never seen anything like this before.”  Concern was clear in her voice.

I ran my fingers along the inside of my mouth, looking for any other loose teeth, but there were none.  From the dark place inside of me, I felt a strange sense of exultation.  What was I becoming?

“We're not the most organized force, but we are among the most skilled.  If we can't break through the Hungering line, than it is likely that no one can.”  Said the tall Uliona man who was talking with Ethaniel.  He was dressed in heavy plate armor and carried a sword almost as big as he was tall.  His eyes were a vivid, shifting shade of orange.

Uliona warriors were exceedingly rare.  As a race, the Uliona prided themselves on being passive.  They did not fight, did not train to fight, and were not schooled in the ways of war.  The orange-eyed warrior I was now staring at apparently had not been informed of the Uliona passivity.  I had never seen a warrior, other than the Knights of Ethan, who looked so well prepared for battle.  Even in his heavy armor, with his massive sword at his back, he carried himself as though he were dressed in every-day clothing.  He moved like a man who feared nothing, and was burdened by nothing.

“Malice, Noble, this is commander Tairyk.  He is in charge of Lucidil's forces while Lucidil is elsewhere.  You can thank him for our rescue today.”  Ethaniel offered an introduction as we approached, though he had not looked in our direction.  A chill ran down my spine, for I knew that he had used his hostile gray eyes to observe us; they did not need to face the way they were looking.

“You couldn't have arrived at a better time.”  I said as I bowed deeply to Tairyk, ignoring my momentarily discomfort.  In truth, I wished he had arrived a few moments earlier, but I could hardly complain when I had not expected help at all.  It was better that he had chanced upon us when he did, rather than not at all.

“We owe you our lives.”  Malice said, also offering a deep bow.

Tairyk laughed, and it was a loud and boisterous noise, unfettered in a way that was uncommon to hear.  “You owe nothing, and I'm sure I could have arrived at a better time.  How about yesterday?  'Could have saved you the bother of fighting these nasty beasties all together.  That is the way of war, though.  Things rarely ever work out ideally.  I wasn't even properly following orders when we found you!”  He barked some more laughter.  “How is that for luck?”

“I got an itch to put a hurt on the Hungering, and decided to follow their line and kill as many as possible.”  He looked grim for a moment, though there was still a light of good humor behind his eyes.  “I'm afraid good King Lucidil would have had stern words for me if he'd found out what I was on about.”  The orange-eyed man paused for a moment, and then a wide grin split his face.  “. . . not anymore though!  As it turns out, we stumbled right into the place he needed us most.”

Even Ethaniel smiled in answer to Tairyk's open and friendly manner.  It was rare to see a military man with a good sense of humor.  They tended to be grim faced, and deathly serious.  Of course, soldiering was an occupation that could easily sap the humor out of a person's life.  How difficult was it to hold a smile while watching those around you cut down by the enemy?  How difficult was it to keep laughing while your friends died painfully and alone on the battlefield?  One could argue that not every soldier dies alone, but on the battlefield, everyone who dies, does so alone.

Tairyk's faced turned serious, though the humor never entirely left his eyes.

“They'll know we're coming.  They communicate instantly, across great distances.  If they haven't already, they will be preparing some nasty surprises for us.  They underestimated us, or at least put too much faith in their pitfalls working, and perhaps if you three hadn't sprung that trap, we may have lost a great many men to them.  It's unlikely that, when next we see them, their attack will be so easy to cast aside.  The Hungering adapt faster than any opponent I've ever faced.”  The orange-eyed commander said.  For all that he could joke, he had a good grasp of the situation.

“We must do as much damage to their forces as we can, and clear a path through to Lucidil's camp.  If possible, we want to sandwich their forces between our two armies and grind them away.”  Ethaniel noted grimly.

“That will take a lot of grinding.”  Tairyk replied.  “They just keep coming.  No matter how many we kill, it seems like there are always hundreds more.  I've never seen a force so vast.  . . . and their black drakes . . .” His words trailed off ominously.

“They do not fight well, though.  They rely upon numbers to make up for their lack of combat skill.”  Malice added.  “They are strong, but any reasonably skilled swordsman is more than a match for one of the Hungering.”

Tairyk nodded.  “This is true, but it isn't their skill that makes them deadly.  While I would confidently pit any man or woman in my army against one of the Hungering in equal combat, it is rarely one man to one Hungering fighting.  In this way, the Shao Geok have been our greatest allies.  They can handle the hordes of Hungering, and break them apart so that the rest of us can finish off the scattered remains.  It's a messy system, but it gets the job done.”

His orange eyes scanned the woodlands that had fallen in around us once more as we marched.  As long as there was light, Tairyk and his forces would keep moving.  “They also make far better scouts than most of us.  Their eyes are perfect for picking out the enemy amidst this tangle and mess, and they can move very quickly.”

The army was moving at a hard march.  The pace would be strenuous to a heavily burdened human after a few hours, but for Malice, Ethaniel and me, even after having run so far, the speed was effortless.

We finished our conversation with Tairyk and moved to the front of the traveling army.  It was easy enough to keep ahead of them, and we served them best by providing an additional forward scout.  Besides, Ethaniel felt that it was easier to use his gray eyes when beyond the confusing mass of moving bodies that made up Lucidil's army.  We initially went separate directions, but once we had given ourselves some distance, I sought out Ethaniel.

“I'm changing.”  I said, not precisely sure how to breech the subject troubling me.

“We're all changing.”  He answered, looking at me with both sets of eyes.  The black eyes, tinged so faintly with blue, held curiosity.  The gray eyes were awash with malicious intent.

“Not like this.”  I said, and I pulled aside my cloak to expose my shoulders.  I had discovered this new change shortly after my teeth had fallen out to be replaced by fangs.  I had taken off my cloak and shirt to check the condition of my broken shoulder, to assure that it had healed properly, since I had been unable to rest it while the bone knitted back together.  The bone, as always, had properly repaired itself, but I was startled to discover that the fur of my arms had spread to my torso.

My Fell Beast arms should have ended at the shoulder, where my human arms had been severed in the operation that bound them to me, but instead now the soft black fur extended onto my chest and back, meeting, almost like a collar, around my neck.  The fur on my legs had similarly spread.  It no longer stopped at my hips, but also lay across my lower back and across my lower abdomen.

“Oh. . .”  Ethaniel said.  He failed to completely mask the surprise that momentarily lit his face.  I smiled at him, not a gesture of good humor, but showing off the four fangs that lined my mouth.

“What is happening to me?”  I asked him, trying to keep the worry from my voice.  It boded ill, that this transformation had come as a surprise for him.

Ethaniel looked away.  “I don't know.  What is happening to you has never happened to one of us before.”

His words felt like a knife in the stomach.  If anyone could explain to me what was happening, I had hoped that it would be Ethaniel.  He was the oldest of us all, and the most experienced with our peculiar condition.  If Ethaniel did not know, where else could I seek an answer?

“You must have some idea?”  I pressed in desperation.

“I can guess, but Noble, you are as different from me, as I am from a normal man.  We were created in the same fashion, but we are very different creatures.”  Ethaniel's voice was tinged with fatherly concern.  I hadn't heard such tones from him since I'd first met the legendary Knight at Fell Rock, at the beginning of my training.

“Whatever you think, it is more than I have right now.  Please. . .” I coaxed him.  I did not understand what was happening to me.  If Ethaniel, with his extra years, and greater experience, could add something to what I knew, it would be better than what I had.

He sighed, seemingly reluctant to give me information that he wasn't certain about.  “It is possible that the strength of your bond with the Uliona whose eyes you carry has given you a stronger bond with all the other creatures that you have formed unions with since.  That bond, while making you stronger and more powerful, might also be allowing the changes to your body, changes that happen to all Knights of Ethan when we take on new aspects, to continue long after they should have stopped.”  Ethaniel explained.  “It's impossible for me to say for certain, because there has never been another Knight like you.

“But you're not only changing physically. . . am I right?”  He asked, still not looking at me, though I could feel a peculiar chill at the nape of my neck.  I wondered if he was using his gray eyes to watch me.  I found the thought disturbing, though I suppose I shouldn't have.  Those eyes, as menacing as they were, were just one more aspect of Ethaniel now, a man I knew was trustworthy and held no malice towards me.  I pushed the discomfort away.

“Sometimes, when I fight, or when I get excited, I can feel the Fell Beast inside of me.  It's like he is sleeping deep in my mind, and when I get agitated, he comes awake and tries to break free.”  I didn't want to try and explain things to Ethaniel, or to tell him how much I feared what was taking place, but I believed there was no one else who could give me insight into my problem.

“Yes. . .”  He said, a strange smile touched the corners of his mouth for a moment, and then it was gone.  He shook his head, looking dazed for a second.  “Yes.”  He repeated.  “You must beware of the Fell Beast.

“Is that what happened in our fight with the Hungering yesterday?”  He asked, piecing things together far faster than I had thought he would.  “When you almost struck Malice?”

I turned my face away from him, shame bringing fire to my cheeks.

“I wasn't expecting it to be so strong.  The violence carried me away, and all I could do was ride the wave of darkness.”  I tried to explain, but I felt my words were inadequate.

“You killed hundreds of them, Noble.  We wouldn't have survived that encounter if you hadn't downed so many.  We were losing, and suddenly you came through them, roaring like a monster, and everything in your path fell away dead.  Malice and I barely had to lift a sword as you cleared our way.  It was a terrible sight to witness . . . but it was a beautiful sight to witness as well.”  I could feel Ethaniel's eyes upon me as he spoke.

“. . . but you didn't stop.  You cleared our path, and the road lay clear before us, but you kept killing.  I called out to you twice, and Malice was calling you as well, but you would not reply.  Finally, Malice approached you to shake you free, and I believe you remember what happened next.”  He finished his short retelling, and the shame burned into me all the greater.

“I don't know exactly what is happening to you, but it is making you far stronger and more deadly than you were before.  It is making you more dangerous as well, not only to our enemy, but to us.  You must learn to master your demons, or they will consume you.  Remember, you are the ruler of your body and mind.”  Ethaniel said the last with an uncharacteristic determination.  “Only you can control the power within you.”

I looked at the dark-haired Knight again.  His face was set forward, and his eyes burned with a strange light.  I looked away, not sure what to make of his words, or his strange change of mood, but I felt that I wasn't meant to see the gleam in his eye.  Was it really in my power to control the monster within me?  I hoped that it was true, but I feared the changes to my body, and the hungering darkness inside of me.  I felt that if I did not constantly struggle with the monster I was becoming, I might very well lose myself entirely.

We traveled in silence for a time, running through the forest at a leisurely pace.  I separated from Ethaniel and took my own route, keeping just far enough ahead of the line of Lucidil's army that I couldn't see or hear them.  I could see neither Ethaniel nor Malice, but I knew they were both in the woods around me, scouting their own paths.  Occasionally I would see one of the Shao Geok scouts, though they were surprisingly adept at remaining concealed when they wished to.

From behind me, a horn sounded.  It called into the quiet evening only once, but once was all that was necessary.  It was a signal that was universally known.  The call to rally had been made.  Someone had spotted the enemy.  A moment after the first horn sounded, a second, but entirely different call tore through the air, coming from somewhere far in front of me.

It was the bottomless roar of a black drake.  I was not incredibly familiar with the sound, but it took little imagination to place the sound with the beasts I had seen on multiple occasions.  The Hungering were coming, and they unleashed their greatest weapons.

I reached our marching army in the span of a few seconds, letting myself slip into the current of speed as I traversed the woods.  I found Tairyk at nearly the same moment that Ethaniel and Malice were approaching him.  Tairyk watched us come in, his face having lost much of its humor, and taken on the serious tones of one about to go into battle.  He almost seemed a different man entirely.

“Our far-runners, Shao Geok forward scouts, say that there is a sizable force of Hungering units pushing through the forest, and underground, in our direction.  They've brought drakes with them, and there is a Blue guiding them, one of their wizards.  It seems they are not putting anything to chance.  They intend to stop us in our tracks.”  The Uliona general's eyes had gone cold.

“If I wasn't under orders, I would turn this army around and march it right back the way we'd come as fast as we could..  Night is coming, and the enemy force is far larger, and far more heavily armed then ours.”  Tairyk paused for a moment, and I noticed for the first time that many men were leaning in close to listen.

“However, I am under orders," A smile crossed his lips, though I noted that this particular smile did not reach his orange eyes.  “and I still haven't killed myself enough Hungering.  So, what do you all say we pave ourselves a road of blood all the way back to King Lucidil?”  He called out the last line of his speech loudly, so that all those around could hear it.

Whatever else the people of Lucidil's army were, they were not cowards.  They responded with a hearty cheer at their commander's rousing words.  I doubted that many of them were confident about the outcome of the coming battle, but they would all fight to their last.

“Remember folks, this battle is for everything.  If we die here, not only do we lose our lives, but our children will perish, and our home will become a wasteland.  So when you swing your sword, you swing it hard, and when you're going to fall, you damn well get your ass back on your feet and take a few more down with you, because this is your legacy.  Let there not be a man alive who can say we did not carve an impossible history here this day.”  Tairyk's voice tore through the assembled men, and they erupted into a cacophony of enthusiasm at the end of his words.  Men and women clanged sword to shield, and even the Shao Geok howled to the skies, bolstered by the speech.

I felt the exhilaration of the moment as well.  Tairyk had roused his men, and there was a palpable excitement in the air.  They might be at the verge of a heavily disadvantaged battle, but with his few simple words the orange-eyed Uliona had assured that all of them would fight with valor until their arms would no longer hoist a sword.  Tairyk's forces marched forward, and we three Knights of Ethan marched with them.

We stayed together at first, knowing that once the battle started we would have to divide.  After a time, Ethaniel left, and it was just Malice and I walking side by side, the army at our back.  I felt I needed to say something, but I couldn't find the correct set of words.

“Fight well.  We can survive this.”  I said, and hated the ones I'd chosen even as I spoke them.  They felt flat, and didn't convey what I meant to say at all.

“We have to, so we can see Kaylien again.”  Malice added.

“Malice I. . .”  I began, but my words faltered.  I couldn't make myself finish what I had begun.  That sentence had always been difficult for me, even with my own daughter.  Now I feared that saying that phrase would betray the memory of Kay's mother, Kyeia, or that Malice would laugh, or, even more foolishly, that my words might conjure up some kind of curse, and doom the recipient of the sentiment to their death.

“. . . I know we can get through this.”  I said lamely.  The ground beneath my feet rumbled with a distant thundering as the sound of a massive force marching touched my ears.   It was too late for any other words.

“Of course we can, Lowin.  I'll see you when this is all done.”  She looked at me, her green eyes as brilliant as ever, and she smiled warmly.  She adjusted her course and disappeared into the woods to my left, taking a position at the head of the army there.  Ethaniel, I knew, was off to my right somewhere.  I was left in the center position, the army of Lucidil at my back, and the Hungering forces growing closer by the second.

“I love you.”  I whispered the words to the empty air where Malice had stood, and cursed myself for my hesitance.  What if one of us didn't come back from the fight?  What would those three words have really cost me? Words that I had never had the strength to say to my daughter, and now I had failed to say to Malice as well.  I uttered a particularly nasty curse.  At the edge of my vision, a tree lifted from the ground and hurled through the air.  The battle was underway.

Chaos.  The world was a terrible, confusing mess of chaos.  Death rained down from the sky as a hail of poisoned arrows and debris cast by the giant lumbering drakes that waded through the horde of Hungering soldiers.  There were at least ten of the massive black drakes, spewing balls of flaming black ichor that tore giant rifts in the ground wherever they landed, and incinerated anyone standing too close.

Lucidil's army was large, but as I got my first glance at those massive black beasts of war I realized that we were hopelessly underpowered.  The enemy monsters killed with every step they took, and belched fire down onto our army with every breath.  The balls of flaming black ichor - something I had taken to be cannon balls when I had first encountered one of the creatures at sea years before - were devastatingly accurate.  On top of that, the drakes were capable of uprooting entire trees and throwing them into the ranks of our men.  It mattered little that our men were more skilled at arms.  In the face of such a massive and lethal enemy, we couldn't hope to stand and fight.

I lanced my way through the line of enemies, killing anything that passed within range of my sword or claw.  Even slowed as the world seemed to be, it was difficult to avoid all the arrows and weapons aimed to strike me down.  I had only one goal in mind, however.  I was advancing on the nearest drake.  I didn't know if there was any way for one man to kill one of the great beasts, but I intended to find out.  If the drakes could be brought down, our army might stand a chance.  Even killing one would improve our odds.

The drake took no notice of me as I approached, being far more intent upon attacking the body of our army which was still far behind me.  Its size, I realized as I grew closer, was far greater than it seemed at a distance.  The beast stood taller than most buildings and looked as heavily armored as a fortress.  Several hundred men could have stood upon the backs of even the smallest of the drakes, and the Hungering were doing exactly that.  Hundreds of the red-eyed demons rode atop the black monster.  They bore bows, and fired in an upward arc into the sky, aiming at the mass of Lucidil's army, still far away.

I benefited from being closer to the creature than the enemy expected. Those few who noticed my presence I dispatched quickly, my blade cutting them down before they could so much as raise a fist in protest.  The Fell Beast inside of me roared triumphantly with every kill, reveling in the gush of blood and the pile of bodies I left in my wake.  I pushed it back with every step forward that I took.

One of the black drake's legs came soaring through the sky at me.  It was several times thicker than a normal tree in circumference, and heavily covered in coarse scale plating that I took to be merely another part of its flesh.  I easily dodged out of range of the falling leg, and used my claws to latch onto it as it sailed back up into the sky.  I let the upward momentum throw me skyward, launching into the air along the creature's leg and towards its main body.  My haphazard flight nearly took me too far, too fast, and I had to scramble to latch a clawed hand into a crease between the drake’s scales.

Even slowed as the world was, it was difficult to navigate the beast's constantly moving body.  The scales flexed and moved as its muscles churned beneath them, and when the seams between the scales closed, they did so with the force of two slabs of dense metal being slammed together.  Every hand-hold I took had to be timed perfectly.  I was making steady progress until the creature reared back to let out another blast of fire. I was at the joint of its neck and shoulder when it reared its head back. I suddenly found the large black spines on the ridge along the back of its head swooping through the air towards me as the beast inhaled deeply.

I reacted on instinct, throwing myself from my place on the neck and latching onto the black spines of the beast's head.  The spine I grabbed impacted on the neck where I had previously been holding, not damaging the drake at all but still with enough force that it would have shattered every bone in my body.  I soon realized what was happening.  The beast's head darted forward and an eruption of searing flame burst from its gaping maw, sailing through the sky over the heads of the Hungering.  It wasn't yet within range of Lucidil's army, but it was still venting fire.

Atop the ridge at the back of the drake's head, I found myself suddenly exposed to attack.  The Hungering saw me, small though I was in relative size to the beast I rode.  Suddenly I had not only the movement of the drake to contend with, but the arrows and bolts of the Hungering army's weapons as well.  They turned their fire on me at once, as if they all had seen me at the exact same moment.  Arrows coursed through the air around me, bouncing off of the scale of the drake and leaving no damage.  I released my grip on the dragon's horn and slid downward, so that the ridge at the back of its head would protect me from any further arrow fire.  I noticed that two arrow shafts protruded from my cloak.

I was now eye to eye with the drake.  I had landed on the creature's cheek, just in front of one of its eye sockets.  The great, dark eye looked at me, black and reflective.  It held no emotion, and barely even seemed to notice me, but there was no mistaking that it had.  The drake tossed its head, trying to shake me free, and nearly succeeded.  I drew my sword and thrust it downward with all the might I could muster.  The blade found a gap between the armor of the beast’s face and dug into flesh, though there was a good deal of resistance.  The drake roared in anger and tossed its head harder, rearing up on its hind legs as it did so.  I did not see what this did to the Hungering on its back, but I guessed it probably wasn't pleasant for them.

My sword was all that kept me from flying off the black drake's head.  I held the handle as tightly as I could as the creature fought to shake me off.  The shakes of its head were so violent that at one point I felt both of my arms dislocate at the elbow and shoulder.  They jarred back into place, and my healing powers took over, but I knew that even so I could not last many more shakes like that.

The giant black eye of the drake stared at me, and inspiration struck.  I dived at the creature's eye, reaching deep to find more speed.  My heart beat faster in my chest, not straining, but giving my system the flow of blood needed to do what I wanted.  The drake almost seemed to stop moving as I sped up.  I tore my sword free, drawing it up in front of me.  I charged the great black orb.

Heavily armored eyelids began to close, but they could not move faster than I.  My blade hit the soft lens of the eye, first bending it, and then, sickeningly, bursting it entirely, but I did not slow my forward pace.  I was not aiming for merely destroying the creature's eye.  I took a deep breath as I broke through the vile ichor of the drake's eyeball and kept my forward momentum.  My sword led the way.  All around me burst terrible, reeking fluid warmth, and yet still I drove onward until my blade made contact with something firmer.  My progress slowed, and then I stopped.  Everything around me was complete darkness.

A tremendous force was suddenly pushing against me and I felt myself being propelled backwards through black fluid around me.  It happened so fast I barely had time to register what was occurring, but suddenly I found myself sailing through the air.  My sword, covered in foul black liquid, slipped from my slick right hand and sailed away.  I twisted my body about, trying to get my bearings, but I was still traveling upwards.  When I finally turned my body through the air enough to see what was below me, I saw that the drake had tossed back its head, and that a gout of black blood and gray matter was pouring from its eye socket.  It was slowly crumpling to the ground.

The monster threw its massive head back, and that paired with the blast of blood and brain matter exploding from the force of my impact threw me far into the air.  Below me I could not make out the individual creatures any longer.  In the slowness of my sped up state, I had a terrible amount of time to question whether or not I would be killed by such a fall.  The ground was a long way below, and I would be falling from a height far greater than merely jumping from a castle parapet.

The battle below began to rush towards me, coming surprisingly fast, even slowed down.  There was little I could do to stop the rush.  I put my legs out before me and cast my arms back and wide, hoping my cloak might catch enough air to slow me down.  It took me only a single breath to realize it wasn't going to help enough to ease the fast approaching impact.  Below me, as the people became clear again, I realize that I would be falling directly into the center of the fighting.  I needed to push myself to be faster.

My heart pounded, the world slowed.  Faster.  My heart pounded, the world slowed, the ground crept toward me.  Below me, Shao Geok and Hungering fought in heated battle, other warriors all around.  I would land in a relatively clear area, but there would be some surprised people when I hit.  The earth inched closer.  I prepared my body for what it needed to do.

My feet hit first, I let them collapse, which they did with little aid, though I forced my knees to bend the proper way, instead of backward, which they nearly did with the force of my impact.  The blow soaked through my knees, and I felt the bones of my shins, knees, and thighs splinter as I hit, but I forced my muscles to work around the broken bones, throwing my body forward in a roll onto my shoulder.  The world spun around me as I used my shoulder and shattered legs to soak as much of the momentum as I could.  My shoulder and arm broke and twisted madly behind me on the first roll.  By the time I came to a stop, I had more broken bones than I could count and had left a fair amount of skin on the ground in my path.

I looked up in time to see the drake I had skewered finish its shuddering collapse to the ground.  The world had resumed its normal pace around me.  In my damaged state, my body did not have enough energy to both heal my wounds and keep me moving quickly.  Red glowing eyes swept toward me.  My left arm was still working, and I willed my claws sharp.  I would not die without a fight.

Bone and sinew stretched, bent and snapped as it restructured inside my traumatized limbs.  The red eyes drew ever closer.  I was struck with the certainty that I would not live much longer.  It would take at least a few hours, maybe longer, for my body to repair the extensive trauma that it had just suffered.  Unfortunately, I had less than a few seconds.  The first Hungering drew near.

I lashed out with my left arm, feebly pushing myself towards the fallen behemoth on my still-healing legs.  Pain lanced through my body, starting low, and spreading upwards through the very core of my being like a terrible fire.  I lashed out at one of the approaching Hungering, and my attack struck flesh. The creature spun away, a large piece missing from its midsection.  It slumped to the ground, but kept crawling towards me, its teeth gnashing, trying to get a grip on my flesh.  Three more of the red-eyed beasts came on behind it, more prepared than the first, but still beyond my range.

I struck out again, hitting the crawling creature in the head, killing it with a powerful blow that once more sent a terrible shock wave through my ravaged body.  The other three descended upon me, obviously uninterested in their fallen companion.  I prepared myself to attack again, trying to decide which of the three threats was worse, but knowing they would all attack at the same moment.  My time was up.

A blur of motion streaked through my field of vision, and one by one the Hungering menace before me fell apart, split by a fine-bladed sword.  The blur solidified, and Ethaniel seemed to materialize before me.  His sword was drawn, and his wings spread to cover him.  He looked more impressive than I had ever seen him before.  This effect, I realized, might have been aided by the way he towered over me while I crawled upon the ground, or by how steadfast he stood, while I groveled with my broken limbs.  He bent down and picked me up, surprisingly gentle for a warrior who had just obliterated three opponents in a matter of seconds.

We lit into the air, his mighty wings stroking down and pulling us from the writhing bodies on the battlefield.  The world blurred around me, everything moving too quickly for my eyes to latch on to any details.  Objects warped into streaks of movement, and though my natural reaction was to speed up, to slow my perception of the world around me, my body was using all of its energy to heal.  I could do nothing but close my eyes and hope my stomach did not attempt to forgo its contents.

When next Ethaniel stopped, I found myself in a medical pavilion, surrounded by other wounded men.  Many, I could tell, were simply biding their time until death took them away from the world forever.  The horned Knight, my savior, crouched and laid me down on a bedroll on the ground far away from the others.  There was honest concern in his black eyes.  I pointedly ignored the void gray eyes, not wanting to see what terrible emotion they might be conveying.

Ethaniel stood up.  “This man has killed a black drake, by himself.  He is to be given as much time to rest as possible.”

A murmur of stunned shock ran through the pavilion around me.  A collective intake of breath sounded from those nearest me, and the others whispered and began to talk excitedly amongst themselves.

“. . . felled the unstoppable . . .”

“. . . a drake slayer.”

“. . . he looks like he might die.”

“. . . legends will be written . . .”

I was uncomfortable with the sudden attention.  I wished that Ethaniel had simply left me to rest, though I know he had only said what he did in an attempt to secure my place of healing.  I feared that, instead, his proclamation would bring more curiosity than peace.  I slumped back onto the bedroll and closed my eyes.  I did not feel that I could sleep, but I could at least ignore the world for a time while my body worked its magic.

“Is Malice alright?”  I asked, as I heard Ethaniel turning to depart.  He stopped and turned back to me.

“She was when last I saw her.  She fights like she is driven by demons.  You needn't worry about her, she is as capable as any soldier on the battlefield today.  Rest yourself.”  He responded, and then he turned once more, and ducked out of the tent.  I was alone, but for the curious people all levying for a position to get a better look at me.

I kept my eyes closed, and did my best to pretend that I was alone and, to those around me, asleep.  It was difficult, though, since my ears brought to me every whisper, and every sound of someone creeping closer to look at me.  . . . legend . . . hero . . . drake slayer.  They repeated these things over and over again, as though it were a mantra by which they might gain some strength to face the enemy that lurked not far beyond the tent in which they lay. I liked none of the things they said about me.  I was a soldier.  The only thing that made me different from those around me was the power which had fallen into my lap.  I had never done anything to earn my strength and speed.  I had been lucky - or unlucky - depending upon the perspective.

My body burned as it healed, my limbs streaking with pain as bone and tendon regenerated and strengthened.  Being able to feel every nuance of healing was an experience I was sure few could relate to.  Bone, as it stitches back together, gives off a terrible dull throbbing, and muscles tingle as they repair over extension.  Flesh itches as it puckers closed, and itches more deeply as the layers within bind back together.  Healing could truly be an unpleasant experience.

I couldn't be certain how much time passed, but when I re-opened my eyes, I was greeted by a deep darkness.  All about me figures huddled, many watching me intently.  I had heard them moving about, even with my eyes closed, but I had not anticipated there would be so many of them.  As I sat up, a wave of awe passed through them.

“He's moving!”  One exclaimed.

“The drake slayer lives!”  Another said.  Other murmurs followed as the people watched me with bated breath.

I was at a loss for how to respond, so I simply got to my feet and stretched.  My body was sore, my freshly healed wounds still aching slightly with my movements.  Some of that muscle, I reminded myself, was only a few minutes old.  After carefully appraising my flexibility, and the strength of my limbs, I judged myself ready.  The damage was mostly healed.  I was in good enough condition to fight again.  I gave silent thanks to Kye, for without her I would have been dead many times over.  Her eyes had served me well.

I decided it was necessary to address the assembled crowd, mostly injured soldiers and medics who had stopped to watch me between tasks.

“I need a sword.”  I said to those around me, for I did not intend to charge back out onto the battlefield unarmed, though my claws were significant weapons on their own.  I hoped that one of those men around me would be able to point me in the direction of some supplies.  What I got instead, was quite surprising.

Men and women alike, all warriors, drew their swords from their scabbards and offered them up to me, hilt first, many bowing to one knee as they did so.  Once more I found myself at a loss for what to do.

“I can't promise I will be able to return the weapon.  I've had a great deal of misfortune with keeping swords.”  I added, expecting at least a few of those around me to take their blades back, but not a single one did.  Every sword belonging to a fighter with the strength to do so had been drawn and offered to me.  It was now upon me to choose one sword among the many, and attempt to smooth over any hard feelings that might rise from my choice.  All eyes watched me.  I considered my options.

“Who among you has lost family to the Hungering?”  I asked, and almost as one the entire group raised their voices.  I should have expected the reaction, but it was still disheartening.  So many lives had been lost, and so many other lives had been affected forever.  It was then that my eyes chanced upon a man at the back of the pack of onlookers.  He laid upon the cold ground, clutching his gut, a pool of blood forming around him.  His knuckles were clenched tightly around the hilt of a sword.

I walked towards him, and the crowd parted around me.  I bent down, and the man looked up at me.  His eyes were clouded, his face red and contorted with pain.  He was lingering very death.

“Drake slayer, please, take my sword.  I have lost my family, as have many of these people, but I do not need mine any longer.”  He said, and blood formed on his lips.  I gently picked him up, and though his knuckles had been holding so tightly around the hilt of his blade, his strength faltered and the sword clattered to the ground.  I carried him to the place I had been resting while I healed and laid him down as gently as I could.

“I will carry your sword, but what is your name?  I will make sure it lives on past this battle.”  I told him, and I meant it.  He was young.  I guessed him to be younger than myself, but his face was hard, his features weary and worn.  The least I could offer him in exchange for his weapon was a chance at some semblance of immortality.

“I am Uin Delmor, husband of the fallen warrior-maiden Levia Delmor, and father of the fallen son, Casint Delmor.”  He answered, a smile upon his lips.  “I'll forgive you if you don't remember my name.”  He told me.  “It is not very memorable.”

“. . . but I wouldn't forgive myself.”  I told him before standing up once more, walking to his fallen sword, and picking up the blade.  It was not a grand weapon, but it was well cared for.  The leather bindings of the hilt were supple and well kept, and the blade was sharp, the nicks worked out.  The steel wasn't king's grade, but it had a good heft to it.  Those around me had gone quiet.  I turned to address them one last time.

“I must go now.  Rest, and heal well, so that you might fight again.”  I told them.  The words seemed to lack power, but the assembled men and women smiled and clapped as I walked from the medical pavilion towards the sounds of war that were far too close at hand.  I gained speed as I traveled, first walking, then running, then flashing forward in a streak, the world slowing about me as my body quickened.  Uin, Levia, and Casint Delmor.  Uin's sword would taste a good deal of Hungering blood that day, I decided.  It would do nothing to ease the loss felt by the living for the dead, but it would be a type of grim justice.

I shot through the front line like an arrow, my borrowed sword cutting a definitive path through those foolish enough to stand before me.  The new blade was heavier than the old, a side effect of the less pure common steel, but the added weight was barely noticeable to the muscles of my powerful arms.   It did, however, give my blade extra momentum on the attack.  I found that the new sword cut through armor far easier than the lighter king's steel, though it took longer to change direction in mid-swing.  The trade-off was worth it.  The heavier blade allowed me to cut through the enemy quicker than ever before.

Eight of the massive drakes still remained scattered along the battlefield.  One additional beast had fallen in the hours since I'd been injured.  That, at least, was something to be happy about.  I hoped that it had been taken down easier than the one I killed.  I wondered, not for the first time, if there was some method for killing the monsters that I was not aware of.  My technique, while effective, had been dangerous, and full of potential failure.  A glowing blue light caught my eye on the horizon.

Far into the battlefield, atop one of the black drakes, a figure sheathed in blue light shimmered.  I began to move in that direction.  I knew what I was seeing, but I had not clearly seen such a creature since my ship had been sunk into the icy ocean many years before.  It was one of the Hungering’s spell casters.  They were evil creatures that could rain down fire with the force of their will.  They could also control the winds, and, I'd heard, they controlled the might of the black drakes as well.

Tairyk had called it a “Blue,” and that was as good a name as any.  As I had with the black drake before, I decided with a singularity of purpose, that I would kill this Hungering magician.  I set my course and cut a path through the Hungering that stood in my way.  I had to pass by two of the massive drakes on my route through the battlefield, and each time I did, the trek became more difficult.  Arrows rained down all around the terrible behemoths, fired by the Hungering upon their back.  They were anticipating me this time, firing massive volleys of arrows ahead of me and trying to predict my course.  My speed kept me alive, but even then it was no easy task.

The ground at my feet was a mix of mud formed of blood, dirt and snow.  At the speed I was running, changing directions was difficult.  I picked off the Hungering as I swirled amidst them, only pausing when it was necessary to aid clumps of Lucidil's army caught in precarious situations.  The battlefield had grown so expansive that there was no way to be certain where Ethaniel and Malice were, or even if they still stood and fought.  I hoped that they did.

I reached the black drake upon which the Blue was riding quickly, and from there a new challenge opened before me.  I had not been the first to consider taking down the magic user.  Lucidil's men gathered around the massive drake in numbers, casting steel grappling hooks at its flanks, trying to get a hold on the creature so that they might scale it.  As they tried, arrows rained down upon them in ceaseless volleys, and worse, terrible blue fire that ate through armor and flesh with disturbing speed.  My eyes scanned the surface of the beast, looking for a route up, and that is when I caught sight of a minuscule figure scaling the side of the hulking titan.

The shifting cloak upon its back made it almost impossible to see, and indeed I might have missed it entirely if not for the way it occasionally jumped forward quickly, triggering the familiar trails of motion tracking that made my Uliona eyes so effective in combat.

I couldn't see the figure’s face at this distance, but there were only three Knights of Ethan on the battlefield, and Ethaniel had wings and horns and didn't wear the shifting cloak of our office.  I watched the drake change stances, breathing fire down upon the soldiers foolish enough to get in front of it, and saw Malice's tiny body shift violently along the scaled armor of the black drake.  My heart jumped in fear, remembering just how difficult it had been to attack the drake I'd faced, and that one had no magic user atop it.  I could not let her face those dangers alone.

I dashed forward, slipping between the ranks of Lucidil's men without touching a single one of them, little more than a shadow to those I passed.  I used the same technique I had with the first drake, latching onto one of its legs and using the fast upward momentum to propel myself up the scaled surface.  This time, I didn't allow myself to be thrown so far away, and I caught the creature's main body easily, falling into the rhythm of its motions so as to avoid the crush of its ever-moving scales.  My eyes passed across the length of the drake's body.  Malice was at the opposite end of the creature, near the rear leg on the same side as me.  She was also a bit higher up its back.  She would reach the top before me, and she did not know I was coming to her aid.  I forced myself to climb faster.

Malice disappeared over the top of the beast, and out of my line of sight.  I fixed my mind onto the task at hand and climbed with all the skill and speed at my disposal.  The shifting hand-holds slowed me more than I would have liked, but I crested the creatures back, further from its neck than I had the first, and found myself face to face with hundreds of Hungering.  The blue glowing form stood in the middle of them, its attention fixed on a commotion at the other end of the monster.  Malice.

The creatures around me attacked.  They moved like a solid mass of death, every tooth, claw and sword ripping through the air and seeking my flesh.  I dove headfirst into the tide of enemies, sweeping wide arcs with my sword.  Every pass of my blade was a sweeping wave of death.  I pushed myself forward doggedly, fighting my way through the horde of enemies that struggled ceaselessly to end my life.

The only warning I had that things had taken a turn against me was a bright streak of blue light that flashed in the air above me.  Danger!  A voice inside me yelled, and I dove to my left as hard and as fast as I could.  I rolled across the back of the scaled beast, regaining my feet just in time to spin around and see a splash of flaming blue death splatter across the Hungering descending on the place I'd just been standing.  The fire ate through the Hungering it hit, sending up wisps of black smoke as it dissolved through their armor, flesh, and bone.  They died silently, with no screams or calls for help.  It was an eerie sight to witness.  The fire rolled harmlessly from the back of the drake and down over its side to fall upon those unlucky enough be standing below.

The Blue had turned its focus on me.  Hungering warriors immediately began to pursue me once the blue fire had left the area.  I shifted my momentum and began a mad dash for the back of the drake, knowing it was only a matter of time before another lick of that terrible flame fell down upon me.  The world lit blue once more, and this time I had to break my momentum and fling myself backwards, into the waiting mass of Hungering, to avoid it.  The Blue had aimed in front of me.  Hungering teeth bit at me, and their weapons sought my flesh.  I managed to deflect a number of blows, but many others hit their marks.  There were too many, and I was far too out of position to counter their attacks.  I twisted in place, driving my sword between myself and the horde of enemies.  It served to stave them off partially, but there were so many of them that they seemed to ooze around my weapons edge, each attempting to rend and destroy any part of me they encountered.  What was worse, I knew that it was only a matter of moments before another wave of flames came down upon my head.  I had nowhere left to go.

Quite suddenly Malice was at my side.  Her sword joined mine, and the Hungering, who had an instant before been on the verge of overwhelming me, were falling back.  Malice's sword spun and cut with a finesse that was somewhat akin to art.  The Hungering died in waves, but in a moment the blue flame lit the sky again.

Malice and I dove in the same direction, forward, through the mass of Hungering, and towards the blue figure that they protected.  We didn't need to communicate verbally, because we both knew what needed to be done.  Blue fire splashed in the place where we'd been, some of it searing the end of my cloak.  The Hungering forces surged onto us, every single enemy atop the drake's back attempting to hold us in one place long enough for their blue-glowing magic user to burn us away.  We, however, would not be held.

Inside of me, in the darkness of my heart and mind, the Fell Beast pushed himself forward.  He was hungry.  I pushed against him, forcing myself to remain calm in the face of the enemy.  It was difficult, but I managed.  I did not want Malice to see that side of me ever again.  I didn't want to see her eyes filled with fear while looking at me.  I fought the Hungering with my sword, and I fought the Fell Beast within me with what resolve I could muster.

Malice carved a path, and I dived through it, clearing it further so that she might follow me.  Once there, it was my turn to cut ahead.  We continued this, breaking to a side when we needed to avoid the blue fire, and made our way towards the ethereal-seeming blue figure before us.  When finally we reached it, the Hungering troops atop the drake lay dead, and we stood facing the strangely empty eyes of the magic user, only the three of us still alive.

He was taller than the other Hungering, with eyes that shone the same shade of red, despite the blue glow that seemed to cling to the rest of him.  There was malevolence in his red eyes, but at the same time they seemed distant.  It was like looking into the eyes of a well-crafted puppet.  The emotion the puppet master had placed there was present, but at the same time, it seemed clear that there was no real life inside the shell that stood before me, dangerous though it was.  I wasn't sure what to make of that impression of emptiness, but I knew that I wasn't in the proper place or time to think too much on the subject.

We stalked closer to the Blue, and it watched us dispassionately, not apparently worried despite the fact that its minions lay dead in the hundreds around it.  I saw Malice ready her sword out of the corner of my eye, and I followed suit.  We would go as one.

Malice charged.  I charged as well, pushing forward and letting the world slow around me.  Blue light exploded all around us.  The error of our move was immediately obvious.

The Hungering magic user had summoned the blue fire down upon its own head, knowing that we would charge in to kill it.  The fire was sizzling down towards us, and we were directly underneath it.  The Fell Beast in me screamed in frustration, an instinctual rage filling its lungs.  I did not give in to its desire to flee.  I could have, but I refused.  Instead, I dove hard to my right, towards Malice, who was further under the rain of blue fire than I was.  I struck her hard, pulling my cloak over us both with my left arm and throwing us out and away from the fire.  I shielded her with my body as best I could.

In the darkness, under my cloak, I could see the look of terror on Malice's face as she realized too late what was happening.  We slid across the back of the drake, carried by the momentum of my impact with Malice.  Our view was hidden by my cloak.  I felt a terrible pain ripping deep into my left arm.  With my right, I grabbed Malice by the front of her cloak.  Her arms reached up for me, trying to grab me and stop me from doing what she knew I was about to do, but there wasn't time for that.  I forced myself faster, faster even then she could move.  My heart sped up, the world slowed down.  I flung Malice with all the strength I could muster, and clawed my way after her.

Light was streaming in through the holes burned in my cloak, and I saw Malice skidding free of the terrible ring of raining death.  I managed to break from the circle of descending blue before the greatest portion of it fell.  Even as I came clear, I scrambled to tear off my sizzling cloak that was covered in the blue fire.  My left arm was not responding to me any longer.  I ripped my cloak free and tossed it aside, and saw, to my horror, the remnants of my left arm fly with it, a charred and bloody tatter of flesh and melted bone.  My arm had been dissolved all the way to the shoulder.  My entire left side was covered in burns of differing severity, most not from direct contact but just light touches of the liquid fire.

I looked back and watched the last of the Blue dissolve under his own flames.  The mess flowed like liquid off the back of the giant black drake, which barely seemed to notice that anything had happened at all on top of its back. I slumped to the back of the drake, tried to brace with my left arm which was no longer there, and fell flat on my face.  I was exhausted.  My body's injuries and the constant work to heal were all taking a massive toll on me.  I heard the soft steps of Malice approaching and pushed myself up with my right arm.

Her face was locked in an expression of horror.  I could guess why, but it wasn't important.  She was alive.  That was the only thing that mattered to me.

“Are you alright?”  I asked her, ignoring the pain that lanced through my left side.

She nodded, her mouth hanging open.

“Lowin, your arm . . .” She said, as though I may not have noticed the damage yet.

My shoulder burned so badly that I wanted to break down and scream.  It was simply gone.  In a matter of seconds my left arm was completely gone.  I saw my sword laying a few feet away and realized I must have dropped it when I dived for Malice.  I stood up and retrieved it.  The blade had, somehow, avoided most of the blue fire, though there were a few strange etched ridges down the length of the steel, as though some of the fire had rolled off of it.  I slid the sword into my scabbard.  It fit well enough, but I would need to get it a scabbard made for it eventually.

“Lowin, your arm is gone.”  Malice gasped, walking towards me, her hand outstretched as though she might touch the wound and heal it.  Her fingers shrank back from the smoldering flesh as she drew close.

“It was the left one.”  I said, as if that made it better.  I wasn't sure what else to say, or how I should feel.  I didn't feel anything.  There was war all about me, but I felt numb and cold.  Even the Fell Beast inside of me had gone silent.

“We have to get you to the medical pavilion as soon as. . .”  She began but I shook my head.

“I'm alright.  I should be able to keep fighting.  I still have my right arm.  That's the one I use the most anyway.”  I tried to explain to her.  In my head, my actions made sense, though later I would realize the absurdity of what I was saying.

“You're not alright, Lowin!”  Malice shouted.  I could hear anger, and worry in her voice.  I didn't understand why.  My body was going into shock, and I felt dazed and confused.

“You are badly hurt.”  Her voice was softer.

Was I that badly hurt?  I looked at the sizzling stump where my arm had been.  It seeped blood, and smoke still faintly poured off it.  It hurt, but it seemed that I could just block out the pain.  I didn't have to feel it at all.  I could keep fighting.  I was tired, but I could fight.

If I didn't keep fighting, what would happen to Kay and all the other who were depending on me?  There were still eight drakes, including the one we were riding upon at that very moment.  How could I quit the fight while I could still raise a sword and still look my daughter in the eyes later?

“If I don't fight, Kay will die, Malice.  I have to fight!”  I told the green-eyed woman staring at me with so much anger and grief on her face.  I saw her fists ball up at her sides and I wondered for a moment if she was going to strike me.

“Are you stupid, Lowin?  Is there something wrong with your mind?  You are one man, part of an entire army.  When you are injured, you can stop fighting.  Others can take your place!  You don't have to die senselessly to be a good man!”  Malice yelled.

“So I should rest while others die?”  I answered, now angry.  I couldn't understand why Malice was asking me to stop fighting.  “I should lay down my sword because I'm injured, and just let men and women with families waiting for them march to their death?  Is that what you think I should do?”

The Fell Beast within me stirred at my anger.  I could feel it stalking the boundaries of the darkness inside of me, pushing at my limits, testing me.

“I want you to share the burden with the rest of us, Lowin.  You are not indestructible.  You can die just like the rest of us, and I don't want you to die.  By all that is vile in this world, Lowin, I do not want you to die!  Do you understand?!”  Her voice was near manic, and there were tears streaming down her face.  I didn't understand.

“I can't stop fighting.”  I told her, and walked past her, heading for the head of the drake. I knew how to kill them, and I would drop one more while I could still carry a sword.  Malice did not stop me, but I heard the sound of her nearly silent crying as I walked away.

“You should leave.”  I called back over my shoulder.  “The drakes fall hard.”  I fell into my forward motion, letting the world slow around me.

Kill. . .

Kill. . .

Kill it. . .

Kill them all. . .

The Fell Beast threw itself against the boundaries in which I trapped it, eager to be free.  Madness filled me.  Violence drove through me, and suddenly I was awash with anger and hunger.  I jumped from the black drake's body to its head, and rode the crest of its nose to its eye socket.  The beast saw me coming, but didn't know what to make of such a minor threat.  These large creatures weren’t intelligent like the Hungering.  It didn't know what had befallen the other of its kind.  I charged forward, my borrowed sword held firmly in my one remaining hand.

I awoke in pain, gasping for breath.  I rolled to my knees, and stumbled over as I tried to place weight on the arm that was no longer there.  The ground beneath my feet was shaking.  I shook my head to clear it and saw that the great black drake I had just attacked was only a few feet away from me, crumpling into the sickeningly moist mud and blood mixture that made up the earth of the battlefield.  It was dead.  I guessed that I had lost consciousness when it threw me.  I took stock of myself.  My body ached, every muscle felt as though it had been used to the extent of its strength.  I lifted my right arm, and found that I still held firmly to my new sword, though every inch of me was covered in disgusting, reeking ichor.

I didn't recall killing the drake, and I couldn't remember how I'd gotten back down to the ground.  A figure came towards me, walking through darkness, hooded and cloaked.  It was Malice.

“They're retreating!”  She was calling as she drew closer, her sword still in one hand.  “They're retreating, you can stop!  Please Lowin, stop now!”

“Retreating?”  I said numbly, spinning about.  The night was bright, the moon a shining jewel in the sky above.  As the battlefield cleared of smoke I could see the massive lumbering forms of the drakes making their way westward, away from the battle.  The Hungering, as well, were walking off the battlefield.  Some of Lucidil's men were striking them down as they left, but they seemed not to notice.  The scene put me in mind of the silver-eyed woman's story, but the details did not all fit.

The Hungering that were leaving the battlefield still had eyes that blazed a fiery red, and there were so many of them.  I didn't know how many there were, but I was certain there were more still alive than dead.  Why were they leaving?  Certainly they were not running away in fear.  They still have seven. . .  I stopped in mid thought.

I counted the drakes once more.  There were only five of the monsters leaving the battlefield.  Lucidil's army must have killed two more of them.  We might have won after all.

“Please stop!”  Malice was saying, and I realized I had been lost in my own thoughts.

“If they are leaving, then I am done fighting for now.”  I told Malice, seeing that she was obviously concerned for my sake.  I had been cruel to her before, and I knew it.  She was concerned for me, and I should have been more mindful of that.  I just did not want others to die for me while I was still able to fight.  I took a step towards her and found that my knees were so weak I could barely keep myself upright.

“I'm tired.”  I explained to Malice, who had moved close enough for me to clearly see the look of pained worry on her face.

“I thought that last one had killed you.”  She said as she ran up to me, putting my remaining arm over her shoulder.  I leaned into her, not because I wanted to, but because I didn't think I could walk far on my own.  “You should never have kept fighting after you lost your arm, and you certainly should have stopped after you killed that one.  Each time you climbed another one, I thought I was watching you scale to your death.”

“I only killed one after I lost my arm… the one we were atop…”  I whispered hoarsely, confused by Malice's discourse.  Her words were not meshing with my usually sharp memory.  I had killed the first one, and had to rest while my bones healed, and then I had killed the one after losing my arm.  That had been all.

Malice looked as confused as I felt.  “No, you've killed four of them in total.  Ethaniel said you killed the first one.  Lucidil's men killed the second, and then you killed the third, fourth, and fifth in succession.  I know.  I've been trying to force you to stop for the last hour.”  Her eyes filled with concern.  “Are you alright Lowin..?  You truly don't remember any of it, do you?”

It must have been the look in my eyes that told her just how little I knew.  I could remember nothing after I charged the eye of the second drake.  The howl of the Fell Beast filled the inside of mind, and I could almost feel the great beast stalking the corners of my consciousness.  It had wrested at least partial control from me, I realized with a panic.  In my pain and disorientation I had let down my barriers, and that darker side of me had broken free.

I didn't know how to explain what had happened to Malice, so I did my best to ignore it for the time being.  There were other matters that needed addressing.

“Why are the Hungering retreating?  They never retreat.  Telistera told us so, and I believe she spoke the truth.  They certainly haven't retreated in any of the other encounters we've had with them.”  I said, still trying to piece together the fragments of my memories.

The problem was that there was simply nothing to piece together in the emptiness between charging the drake's eye, and finding myself crumpled on the ground.  My mind churned over that blank spot, while also trying to make sense of the actions of the Hungering.  Where were they going?  What would cause them to leave a battlefield on which they were winning?

“Perhaps we should find the commander, or Lucidil.  Maybe they'll be able to shed some light on the situation.”  Malice suggested.  It seemed as good an idea as any other.  I scanned the wasted battlefield.  The real problem would be finding anyone amidst the chaos.

My shoulder, the one that had once held my left arm, hurt fiercely.  A momentary remorse for my lost limb took hold.  I felt diminished, and in fact, I supposed that I was.  The missing limb made my center of balance strange, though it was not such a problem while leaning on Malice for support.  In all my fighting it had never occurred to me that I might be maimed.  Death had seemed probable on many occasions, but I had never considered the loss of a limb.  I remembered the burn of the blue fire as it had bit into my flesh, and I shivered.

“Are you alright?”  I heard Malice ask.  I regretted my showing of weakness.  I didn't wish to make her worry.

“I was just remembering something.”  I said half-heartedly.  A loud pop issued from my chest, and I felt a stirring of pain as a rib snapped back into place.  I took that to be the cause of the pain that had been stabbing at me every time I drew a breath.

“Your arm may grow back.”  Malice offered in a way of comfort, after we had walked a while, heading in the direction of the medical pavilion.  I noticed where we were going, but for once I did not feel the desire to complain.

“Do our arms grow back?”  I asked, surprised at the notion.  I hadn't considered that the Knights of Ethan might be able to regrow lost limbs.

“No. . .”  She said, before quickly adding.  “It hasn't happened before, but you are different.”

“Ah," I replied, not really disappointed.  It would have been nice to believe my arm would come back, but I had not thought it possible, so I was hardly heartbroken.

“You shouldn't have done that for me," Malice broke a short silence after we'd walked on a little further.  There was anger in her voice again.  I wasn't sure who her anger was directed at, me, or herself.  “I would have . . .”

“Died.”  I cut her off mid-sentence, my voice harsher than I'd meant it to be.  I softened it as I continued.  “You would have died.  You were too far in when we realized what was happening.”

She looked across me, at the mangled shoulder that remained from the aftermath of the blue fire.  It still hurt, but the skin, thanks to my healing ability, had covered over the wound, and any infection that may have tried to get in was gone.  My shirt hung off of me, mostly incinerated on that side of my body.  The collar of fur that ran around my neck now terminated with the stump of my shoulder.  The fur there had gone pale white.

“You still shouldn't have done it.”  She said again, stubbornly.

“I guess some things are more important than an arm.”  I answered.  It was a stupid thing to say, and conversation faltered once more.  We marched back to the medical pavilion in silence.

The pavilion, when we finally reached it, was packed full of people, and more were being brought in from the field constantly.  As we approached, people stopped and stared openly.  Even the Shao Geok, who were aiding in carrying the injured, stopped to look at Malice and me as we drew near.  The whispers spread through the pavilion, too low for human hearing, but loud enough for my Fell Beast ears.

“. . . say he killed more of them, and after he lost his arm, too.”

“He's an immortal.”

“His name is Noble, trained by Lucidil himself.”

“. . . the drake slayer.”

I did my best to shut out their voices, and the silent praise they felt I'd earned on the battlefield.  They didn't know the darkness I bore inside of me, or the terrible, murdering impulse I'd succumbed to.  What would they think of me if they did?  What sort of hero would I be in their eyes if they knew that I was little better than a Fell Beast with a sword?

Malice carried me to a bedroll, and I collapsed upon it with relief.  The others in the tent, even though it was frightfully crowded, gave us space.  Malice lay down at my side, and I could see that she too was tired.  We had fought for a long time.  Even the Knights of Ethan couldn't fight forever without a rest, and the more we used our abilities, the faster we wore our energy.  It had been days since we'd slept, and we had seen much fighting since then.

Sleep came upon me almost before my eyes had the chance to close.  I dreamt of fire.

“Lowin, it's time to go.”  A soft voice cut through my sleep and I opened my eyes to the world once more.  The medical pavilion was quiet, but for the few people who were working on dismantling the tent.  The injured, and most of the medics, had left while I slept.  The dead, I guessed, had been taken away and buried.  I wondered if Uin Delmor had been among those.  I was certain he had.  I reached down to my sword, letting the fingers of my right, and now only, hand touch the leather of the hilt.

“Lowin?”  The soft voice again.  I turned my head and saw Malice kneeling over me. Her hand was on my chest.  I reached out and took her hand in mine, the claws of our Fell Beast features intertwined for a moment.  Malice stood, pulling me up with her.  My body didn't hurt any longer, but my arm was still gone.  There was no longer any pain in the shoulder.

“How long have I been out?”  I asked as I rose from the bed mat upon which I'd slept.

“You've been asleep for the better part of the day.”  The green-eyed warrior replied.  She handed me a bundle she'd had tucked under one of her arms.  “I took the liberty of finding you some new clothes.”

I took the bundle from her.  There was a shirt and cloak, though the cloak was only of standard black fabric, not a Lucidil cloak as I was accustomed to wearing.  I looked down at the one I was dressed in, and saw that the fabric was in tatters, and that the magic of the cloth seemed to have faded.  Though the edges were still translucent and the fabric attempted to shift and change colors based upon my surroundings, the effect wasn't dramatic.  Even the cold seemed to bite through the once impervious cloak.  Of course, I realized that it might just be the numerous holes allowing the chill air through.

I attempted to change, and quickly discovered that I wouldn't be able to undress and hold on to my clothes at the same time.  I handed them back to Malice, who looked chagrined as she realized the problem I was having.

With my hand freed, I made quick work of the ruined shreds of my cloak and shirt.  Dressing in the new clothes was difficult.  I hadn't ever thought about how much my arms worked in unison to accomplish simple tasks.  In the end, Malice helped me pull on my shirt, and fasten my new cloak.  I did my best to not be embarrassed by the aid.  I felt useless.  Once dressed, we moved out together in silence.

The army was on the march again.  Some of those in the rear-most sections were aiding with burying the dead and managing the traveling resources, such as the medical pavilion, and the food and weapon supplies.  For the most part, however, they were once again on the road, a long line of marching soldiers and the reave haulers carrying their gear.  Malice and I quickly overtook the front of the army, and were in the clear, running freely ahead.

Without my left arm, it was more difficult to balance my body as I ran.  I adapted my stance, but it took some time.  Every time I stumbled, it was another reminder of the fact that I was no longer whole.  I tried not to let that bother me, but it did.  I would have to relearn all of my fighting skills.  Instinct would only take me so far.  My eyes scanned the country around me.  A feeling of panic was creeping into me.  It had been rising ever since Malice had woken me in the medical pavilion, and every step closer to Lucidil that I took, that feeling of wrongness grew.

“Something isn't right.”  I spoke aloud, and Malice was at my side in a moment.

“I know.”  She answered.  “The way the Hungering left. . .”  She let her sentence trail off, but I knew what she meant.

The Hungering should not have just abandoned the field the way they did.  I half expected, with every footfall, another ambush to spring up around us.  The further we traveled, however, the clearer it became that the Hungering had left the area.  The world had resumed its normal pace.  The birds sang in the trees, and the winter wildlife had taken to the woods once more.  Why had the Hungering left the battlefield?  What could compel an unstoppable force to stop?

“We should warn Lucidil.”  I said, though I guessed that he would already know something strange was occurring.  He had been fighting the Hungering for a long time, and such a straying from their normal patterns must have alerted him as well.  I pushed myself harder, speeding the pace of my run.   Malice matched me step for step.

We ran with urgency, driven by a growing sense of foreboding.  The hours flew by, and with them, distance fell away before us.  Time became meaningless.  I knew nothing, had no thought but that we needed to reach Lucidil's camp as fast as our legs could carry us.

The camp opened up before us.  The area where the ground rams had been set was in chaos.  Most of the stations were entirely destroyed.  Men moved through the wreckage, picking up bodies, sorting them into groups.  The enemies would be burned, and the fallen soldiers of the king's army would be buried in the proper fashion deemed suitable for a fallen soldier.  We pushed through the battlefield.  The closer we drew to Lucidil's central camp, the less the damage became.  That should have been a good sign, yet I still could not shake the feeling of foreboding.

All those who saw us coming cleared way, as though they could sense that we were on important business.  Even the Black Patch Brigade gave way to us as we drew near.   It might have been our haste, or it might simply have been because we were both Knights of Ethan.  Of course, in my new cloak, I looked more like one of the human-Fell Beast amalgamations.   After a time we came upon the tents of the small residential camp that Lucidil had erected.  I stopped for the first time since I'd started running hard, my eyes surveying the scene before me.

Malice ground to a halt at my side.  “Is something wrong?”  She asked, and though her voice was set cold and dispassionate, I, who knew her well, could hear the worry hiding beneath her tone.

I thought in silence, but not for long.  I couldn't place what had caused me to stop.  Though the tents seemed to have not changed at all from the last time I'd been to Lucidil's camp, I felt a heavy weight upon my shoulders.  I was tempted to reach for my sword, and had to force myself to stay my hand.  Something was amiss.  What few figures that were here, guardsmen and servants, moved between the white canvas tents quietly, as though they too were a part of the dreary dark that had descended upon the camp.  I walked forward slowly.

“Lowin, is there something wrong?”  Malice repeated her question, and it was only then that I realized I hadn't answered her the first time.

“Yes.”  I replied.  “Though I do not know what it is yet. . .”  I trailed off in thought.  It was the best answer I could give.  I could hear my heartbeat thrumming like a drum in my ears.  I felt as though I were willingly walking into a terrible storm.

“Something has happened here.”  I heard Malice say, though her voice was low.  “The people wear it on their faces.”

I didn't need to reply.  I had seen it as well.  My trepidation grew as I drew nearer Lucidil's tent.  The flap was closed, and four of the Black Patch Brigade stood outside guarding the entrance.  As Malice and I drew near, they stiffened and placed their hands upon their weapons.

“His Majesty is not seeing vassals.”  One of the black cloaks announced.

“He will see us.  Let him know that Malice and Noble return from the field, and that we wish to speak to him immediately.”  I made my voice firm, commanding.  Malice had been about to speak, but I had preempted her.  She did not look displeased.

The guards looked at each other, uncertain as to what they were supposed to do under the circumstances.  They were creatures of one order, and it was not mine that they listened to.

“Inform him that we are here.  He will wish to speak to us.”  Malice commanded, reinforcing what I had said.  It took them a moment, but finally one of them lifted the tent flap and walked into the relative darkness within.  We waited, the three remaining men never taking their hands from their swords.  I wanted nothing more than to draw my own blade and strike them out of my way. Such was the frazzled state of my patience.  I forced myself to bide my time.  It was no easy task.

At last, the black cloak that had entered the tent emerged.

“Malice and the Oath Breaker may enter the tent. We are to give them privacy.”  He said to the others as he emerged.  The tent flap was drawn back, and the guards ushered us inside before turning and leaving their posts.  I thought it more than passingly peculiar that Lucidil would dismiss his guards.  It was yet another symptom of a problem that I didn't yet understand.

The space inside the tent was large and open, though the lighting was dimmer than it had been when last I'd visited the king only a few days before.  The table was pulled to the center of the area, Lucidil sat at one side, and Ethaniel stood at his right.  I was surprised to see the Knight of four eyes had already returned to the king's side.  Malice and I had made good time, but he had obviously started long before us.  He stepped back into one of the shadows of the tent as we entered.  Something about his motion, or the look on his face, struck me as inherently wrong.  Again, it was some aspect that I couldn't quite place.

My hands were cold, and my heart still sounded in my ears like a drum.  Something terrible was about to happen.

Beware the fire.  A gravely female voice whispered softly from somewhere inside of me.  I didn't know what it meant, or where it came from, but the advice seemed sound.  Lucidil's eyes burned like fire, and I felt a strange tension hovering about him.

“Malice, Noble, it is good to see you returned safely from the field of battle.  I was quite worried about you.”  Lucidil said, his tones conversational.  He did not rise from where he sat at his table.

I drew back my cloak, exposing the missing arm.  “You had cause to worry.  The field of battle was quite dangerous.”  I said, doing my best to keep my emotions from my voice.  I exposed my weakness as a way of putting the king off balance.  I felt I needed to position myself in a dominant stance for the encounter.

Lucidil eyes opened wide, but only for a moment, and then he stifled his surprise at my injury.  Whether my missing arm gave me any lasting edge, I couldn't know.

“It's not often a Knight takes such a heavy injury and lives to tell of it.  You surprise me.  How did you lose it?”  The king asked after he'd recovered.

“A Hungering Blue’s fire.”  I answered truthfully.  “He lured me in and then killed himself, and tried to kill me, in a spill of his own blue fire.  I got out in time to save my life, but as you can see, not unscathed.”  I gestured towards my damaged shoulder.

Lucidil's face soured, his eyes taking on a note of disappointment.  “That injury will ruin you as a fighter.  Though, I suppose you've earned your right to retire.  I hear that you felled multiple black drakes on your own?”

I wasn't sure whether he meant to slight me by saying that I was ruined as a fighter, but if he did, it was ineffective.  I had never been a brilliant fighter to begin with.  I knew I could never get past the technique and into the actual art of fighting.  Malice had told me that my adherence to form was my weakness, and I could accept the truth of it, even if I could do nothing to fix it.

I nodded my reply to Lucidil's question, unwilling to go into details on events that I could not remember.  Certainly I recalled killing the first drake, but the second was little more than a hazy half recollection and the third and fourth were a complete mystery to me.  An admission that I had killed them would be paramount to admitting that I had lost control during the course of a battle.  I knew it was true, but Lucidil did not need to.  That was my private shame.

“That is an impressive accomplishment for any man, be he human, Knight, or otherwise.  I shall make sure you receive the proper glories for your deeds.  A Knight wounded is no one, but a Knight wounded while fighting like a hero, that is the making of a legend.  Isn't that so Ethaniel?”  The red-eyed warrior asked the Knight who stood in the shadows at the corner of the tent.

“Indeed.”  Came the quiet reply.  Once more I was assaulted by the sense that something was amiss.  Lucidil's casual talk of glory and the events of battle were skirting the issue at hand.

“The Hungering walked off the battlefield.”  I said, feeling that it was time to cut through the pretense and get to the point.

“Yes.”  Lucidil replied, nodding as he did so.  “It is most fortunate, since we had no chance of pushing them back with the forces that we had at our disposal.  I believed we could, but I was wrong.”  The king had never admitted to being wrong before.  It struck me as strange.

“Why would they do that?”  I asked, pressing the point.  When Lucidil didn't answer immediately I asked again.  “Why would the Hungering leave a battlefield while they were still winning the fight, Lucidil?”  My ire was rising.  I was now certain that I was honing in on the source of the problem, and that Weaver knew what it was.

“I made a bargain with them.  They demanded something, and I gave it to them.  Once I had given it to them, they left the battlefield, and because of that we are all still alive to have this meeting.”  Lucidil sounded exasperated, as though he had already had this conversation before and he was tired of repeating it.  There was something in his eyes that put me on edge, something I had never seen there before.  It was fear.

“The Hungering don't bargain.  They take what they want, and what they want is to kill and devour everything that they encounter.”  Malice spoke quietly, but with the authority born of years of service as a weapons master.  Her voice had a dangerous edge to it.

“They've never bargained before. . .”  Lucidil replied, his voice trailing off for a moment.  “This time there was something they wanted, though, and I had to give it to them. My defenses were pressed to their limits.  We had felled five of their black drakes, but they had more of them, and they just kept coming.  I knew that even if our backup army came, we would never be able to clear them all away.  Things were hopeless here.  When the Blue came forward and proposed negotiations I had to listen . . . for the people of this land.  I had to do what was necessary to keep the people safe.  You can understand that, right?”  Lucidil was looking at me now, his eyes were defensive, but the fear lay beneath.  What was he afraid of?  Was he afraid of me?

I stepped towards him, and he shot out of his chair, his hand going to the sword at his side.

“I had to Lowin.  They said they wouldn't hurt her, so it was a situation in which everyone survives.  I did this for the people!”  Lucidil's voice was strained, and his eyes seemed almost manic.

My mind caught on one phrase.  “They said they wouldn't hurt her. . .”

My heart hammered at the front of my ribs.  “They said they wouldn't hurt who?”  I growled, and I heard in my voice that same dangerous edge I'd just caught in Malice's a moment before.  I asked the question, but I knew the answer already because I knew who Lucidil was afraid of.  He was afraid of me.  Why would he have any reason to fear me?  The answer was only too clear; because he no longer held the key to keeping me at bay.  I had already pieced this together, yet somehow I stayed my hand, waiting for the words to come from Lucidil's own mouth.  If he hadn't said them, then maybe I was wrong.  I wanted dearly to be wrong.

Lucidil did not answer, though he had drawn his weapon now, and held it steadily between us.  His eyes held fear, but they held a dangerous confidence as well.  He had spent hundreds of years fighting, and his skills were legendary.

“Trillia, they said they wouldn't hurt her.  She will be fine, and we will all live in . . .” Weaver began his answers, but I did not wait for him to finish speaking.

“You gave Kaylien to the Hungering?”  My voice boomed dangerously, my composure was faltering fast.  Inside of me, the beast howled, sharing in my rage and grief, and reveling in the dark tide of emotions that swirled in my mind.  I had trouble wrestling it back.

“I gave one life to save all the peoples of our land, and she is not dead, Lowin.  You don't have to worry.  They assured me that she would be. . .”  Lucidil's words fells away in my mind.  He kept speaking but I was no longer listening to them.  In my head I saw my daughter as she had been at two, smiling at me from the arms of Wisp.  Then I envisioned her as she had been in Weaver's tent just a few days earlier, a quick witted and loving child with so much life and promise ahead of her.  Now she was gone, given over to a force of evil so great that it threatened our entire world.  Lucidil had given my daughter to the enemy.

A peel of fury erupted from me, so loud and so terrible that it tore at the flesh of my throat, sending a mist of blood into the air.  I drew my sword and charged at Lucidil, falling into the full wrappings of my speed.

Lucidil's mouth dropped open and the words, the inane, useless words that had been flying from his lips, fell away.   He brought up his weapon and turned my blade away with ease.  He was fast, and dangerous.  There was fear within him, but it was buried beneath hundreds of years of training and an incredible amount of power.

Such was my fury that I charged on heedless of his skill with the sword.  His blade knocked mine from side to side, leading every attack I made in useless circles.  He parried one blow and dashed in with one of his own, his blade piercing my side deeply.  I fell away, and the world lurched back into normal speed.  Lucidil now stood at the opposite side of the tent.

“You can't hope to defeat me, Noble. You haven't the skill, and you're injured.  You don't know how to fight properly with your missing arm. Your sword swings are sloppy, and your technique is lacking.  Quit now or I will kill you.  Do you think you really stand a–”

Lucidil's words faltered as Malice blurred into motion at my side, and I let the speed fall back in around me.  Lucidil too picked up speed, and the three of us met in a knot of combat at the center of the tent.  Lucidil had leapt to the top of the table, giving himself a high position, but my senses were numb and I didn't care that he had the high ground.  I pressed towards him anyway, haphazardly dodging and blocking his blows as I sought to claw my way closer to him.  I wanted to kill him.  I needed to feel his blood spilling out onto my claws.  I wanted to watch the red light fade from his eyes.

At my side, Malice was attacking with a fury as well.  Her blows were beautifully timed, and delivered with a finesse I could never achieve.  Somehow, Lucidil kept us both at bay.  He moved like he'd been born with a sword.  Every swing of his arm served to throw me further away, and turn Malice's sword aside at the same time.  The king's steel blade in his hand, was an impenetrable wall of death.  I would not be turned aside.  My mind was full of darkness.  He had to die.  For all that he had done, for all those he had killed, and finally, for giving my daughter to the Hungering, I would finish him.  The world could not keep him any longer.

I lunged upwards at him, my sword leading my attack.  He struck my blade aside but my body's weight still drove me forward.  His blade shifted direction, impossibly, in mid swing, and it was only at the last moment that I realized I had too much forward momentum, and no way of stopping his blade from striking.  I didn't care - I wanted him dead.  I didn't bother trying to alter my suicidal arc.  I let myself fall towards his slicing weapon.  In my eyes, he was the only creature that stood before me, and only killing him could ever bring me peace.  I let go of my sword, knowing I would be too close use it, and willed my claws as sharp as I could.  The Fell Beast in me called for blood, the father and brother in me called for vengeance, and the man in me called for an accounting of all that had been lost for Lucidil's cause over the years.

A heavy impact on my right side sent me sprawling uselessly to the ground.  I spun around in the air, not knowing what could have possibly struck me from my course.  I was filled with so much rage at losing my opportunity to sink my claws into Lucidil that I barely realized that it had been Malice who hit me.  As I struck the ground I saw Lucidil's blade, the strike that had been aimed for me, cleave into Malice viciously.  A spray of blood lifted into the air as the blade opened her from stomach to throat.  She fell away to the ground, tumbling through the air in a spill of her own blood and organs.  Her eyes, beautifully green, were full of tears and loss.

Fire filled me.  It consumed my humanity like dried wood, and I was lost in the chaos of the Fell Beast.  Kill.  I lurched to my feet, only semi cognizant of what I was doing, and charged Lucidil, the world slowing around me more and more with every step.  Kill.  Lucidil's sword rose to strike, but it seemed to be moving so slowly.  I stepped through its range and struck out with my one good claw.  I struck flesh, but not deeply.

Weaver spun back from me, his sword changing direction as fast as anything I'd ever seen.  There were lines of blood opened up on his chest, not deep, but I had hit him.  The blood enticed me on.

He charged forward, anger and fear heavy in his eyes.  I charged as well, riding the tide of ferociousness that was the Fell Beast's fury.  My heartbeat quickened, and the world slowed.  My single claw moved surprisingly fast through the slowness, pushing through the heavy resistance of air with unerring accuracy.  I struck inside of Lucidil's defenses again, much deeper this time.

I felt my claw tear into the flesh of his stomach, rending the cloth and skin beneath to ribbons.  The red-eyed Knight flew back once more. This time, though, he'd been prepared for my actions, if not my speed.  His blade spun upwards as he retreated, the tip ripping a line up the length of my torso, much as it had with Malice, but not as deeply.  The blow was hard enough to knock me back.  The fury within me, though, would not be so easily doused.

I lunged forward again.  Lucidil's blade tip snapped up impossibly fast, the point aimed straight for my chest.  I was moving too quickly, and with too much lethal intent to swerve aside.  I felt the blade ripping through flesh, deflecting off of bone, and piercings organs as I drew in nearer to Lucidil.  Kill.  I forced myself further onto the blade, letting it slide through my chest.  Kill.  The steel tore through my back and emerged behind me but I drew in closer, lifting my right hand.  I brought the five razor sharp claws at the end of my arm down with all the force I could muster.  I hit Lucidil's face, and felt the talons of my hand bite deep.  I carried the cut through, down his neck and onto his torso, unwilling to ease up, but suddenly the kill was ripped from me.

Lucidil swung his sword hard, and my body slid off of it, propelled by the force of his motion.  I tumbled backwards, the world resumed normal pace as I fell into a dark corner of the tent.  Blood gushed from my wound, seeping into my clothes and the earth around me.  The Fell Beast howled in agony within me, but I refused to let the pain pass my lips.  I would not let Lucidil know how badly I was hurting.  What hurt worse than the wound, was knowing that I was going to die without avenging anyone or anything.

The king approached me, his face hanging in tatters.  He held his bulging guts in with one hand, and spat blood through his shredded lips.  His facial wounds reminded me of the wounds Wisp had inflicted on me so many years before.  I smiled as I remembered her.  Wisp.  She'd been too good to die the way she did.

“I'm sorry, Wisp.”  I breathed, and I was surprised to hear how quiet the words came from my lips.

“You're a fool, Noble.  You always were.  We could have been gods of this world, but you never understood what it takes to achieve great ends.  Now I have to kill you like so many before you.  No one will remember you.  The world will forget you ever tread upon its surface, and you'll be just like your precious Wisp, and all the hundreds of other Knights who have died.”  Lucidil spoke as he stood over me. The words coming from his tattered lips were sometimes difficult to understand.  “Now I will have to bury you like I've had to bury Ferocity . . . all because you can't see the greater picture.”

He lifted his sword and the blade caught the dim light from the candles in the tent.  Its reflection almost seemed red, though I knew the silver had no such tint.  His eyes glistened like wet blood in the dim light.  Lucidil's hand was poised to strike, and then it spasmed, the fingers went slack, his red eyes opened wide, as did his mouth.  The king's steel sword clattered to the ground, and he attempted to turn, but couldn't as another sword, also of king's steel, was ripping through the front of his chest, right through the place where his heart had been beating only a moment before.  Lucidil, the King of Men, died without so much as a word.  His body fell to the ground, taking the killing sword with it.

Behind him stood Malice, her green eyes brighter than seemed possible without some inner light shining through them.  On her face was a supreme look of vengeance served.  Her legs seemed to give out on her, and she fell to the ground.  I crawled my way towards her, dragging myself with my one good hand.  I didn't know if she was alive, dead, or dying, but I wanted to be close to her.  A terrible pain in my chest stopped me.  I tried to take a breath and felt blood pouring into my lungs.  I pushed myself nearer Malice, and I heard footsteps approaching.  A great shadow fell over me, and my mind fell into darkness.

I often wonder if death would not have been easier to deal with than life, but it was not to be so.  I awoke, some days later, in a bed in the king's infirmary.  My wounds were entirely healed, and so I dragged myself from bed, much against the better judgment of my physicians who believed I should rest at least for another day.  I'd never been one for resting when I was able to move.

I found Malice not far from where I'd been laying while I healed.  She was unconscious, and I was told that she should have died, so grievous were her wounds.  I stayed with her for a time, watching her until I was certain that she wouldn't fade away from me while I was away.  Once I was satisfied with that, I went looking for someone who could explain to me what was to happen with the kingdom, and what I must do to find my daughter.  I found Ethaniel, or to be more precise, he found me as I was leaving the infirmary.

“The crown is free now, and I believe you should take it.”  He told me after I had finished telling him of everything that had led me to that point in my life, and I laughed at him, for I did not want the crown.  I had never even contemplated becoming a king.

“I just want to get my daughter back . . . if she still lives.”  I told him, and he pointed out across the land.

“Noble, the Hungering are taking to the oceans, and they have your daughter.  If you want her back, you will need ships, and if you want ships, they will have to be built.  The Hungering destroyed all of our seafaring crafts.  Only the king has the power to order those ships built, especially in a time of recovery such as we are about to enter.”  Ethaniel's voice held no deception.  I knew the words were true, though I did not want to hear them.

“You should take the crown.”  I told him.  “You know the position better than anyone else alive.  You would make a good king.”

“No!”  His voice was hard.  Ethaniel's gray eyes flared, and his black eyes pierced me like talons.  “No, I must never take the crown.”  His voice softened.  “I am the king's man.  That is where I have always served, and that is where I'm needed most.”

“I am too young, and too inexperienced.”  I tried to explain to him.

“You have a need that can only be met by being the king, and a man in need does what must be done.”  Ethaniel answered, his voice normal again.  “If you do not take the crown, you will not get what you need, and someone less deserving - someone who cares only for their own betterment - might step up in your place.  Do it for the country.  Do it for Kaylien.”

I wasn't happy with his words.  I felt, once more like I was being backed into a corner.

“If I must take the crown to save my daughter, I will do it, though I do not want to.  How long will it take to build the ships?”  I didn't care for the title, but I would travel to the ends of the world to get Kaylien back, and if putting on a crown would speed me on my way, I would do so.

“Years . . . two, maybe three.” Ethaniel answered.

I was crushed.  For two or three years Kaylien would have to live amongst the Hungering.  What would she be like when I finally reached her?  Certainly she would not be the girl I knew any longer, though she hardly was the girl I remembered from when she was little.  Still, I could not give up so long as I knew she was alive.

“Let them start immediately.”  I said, and Ethaniel shook his head.

“You must be crowned.  You are a hero to the people now after your exploits in battle, and after helping dispose of a king the people were becoming distrustful of, especially after he gave away his own daughter.  Those people - your people if you become king - thrive on custom.  You can't change the old ways.”  Ethaniel told me.

I was about to walk away, but something was still bothering me.

“Why didn't you help Lucidil that day in the tent?  If you had, it would be Malice and I who lay dead, and not Weaver.”  I asked the old Knight.

“Lucidil's time had come.  It was I, after all, who made sure the guards were dismissed.”  He answered.

“He was your friend.”  I pressed.

“Yes, but he was not a good man.  I knew that when he became king.”  Ethaniel looked out across the courtyard beyond the infirmary, but it seemed to me he was really looking into his own past.

“You never objected to him becoming king.”  I noted.

Ethaniel shrugged.  “I knew he would do what was necessary to save the people.  He was a brilliant fighting man.”

That raised my ire.  “He gave my daughter to them. . .”

The old Knight nodded sadly.  “That is when I knew that his time had come.”

“Yet you didn't aid in the fight against him.”

“I was the king's man, Lowin.  I couldn't raise a sword against him, and he was my friend.  I took no joy in watching him die.”

His answer, while straight-forward, seemed a convoluted excuse to me.  A man, I believed, should make a stand for what he believed in.  Ethaniel had merely stood by while events unfolded.  “Do you think I'll make a better king?”  I asked.

“You are selfless and intelligent.  You're brave, and the people already see you as a hero.  You might be a great king.”

“. . . and if I'm not?”  I raised an eyebrow as I asked this final question.

“There will be others after you.”  Ethaniel said before turning and walking away.  I sat alone for a time, thinking over the events of my life.

I would take the crown, and I would have my ships my built.  In the meantime, there were bodies to bury, and plans to make.  I would be traveling into the heart of the Hungering's homeland, and I didn't believe for a moment that would be an easy fight.

I returned to Malice's side and took one of her hands in my right claw, the single one that remained to me.  I'd given the other to save her life just a few days before, and I did not regret the sacrifice, though I feared it might have been in vain.  I squeezed her fingers, hoping for some sign of life, but she did not return the pressure.  All the times I'd had to tell her how I felt, I now regretted not doing so.  Would she come back from wherever she had gone?  I couldn't know.

“I love you, Laouna” I said the words aloud, using Malice's real name for the first time.  “Please, please come back to me.”

There was no answer.

Epilogue

I believe it's only fair that I share with you the story of Ferocity and Tyvel as it was told to me by witnesses, after the fact.  It would be an injustice to them both not to include at least a short recounting of the incidents that led up to their deaths.  Heroism is rare, and selfless sacrifice is something that should not be overlooked.  For those reasons, I give to you the final story of Ferocity and Tyvel, as I've pieced together from firsthand accounts.

“For the girl.  For the violet-eyed girl, we will leave these lands, but we must have her.”  The Blue's voice was almost a song, soft and serene.  It was the last kind of sound anyone would expect to hear from a creature that had rained fiery death upon those it faced in battle.  The fact that it spoke at all was astounding enough.  Until it had come, under a white flag of truce, and declared itself a representative of its army, none had known the Hungering could speak the human language, let alone with such fluidity.

Lucidil rocked back in his chair as the demand was made.  Even the ghost, Tyvel, who stood at his side, seemed to grow paler at the request.  To give a little girl into the hands of monsters, even to end a war, was a terrible thing to ask.

“The girl will not be harmed.  We shall treat her as a princess.”  The red-eyed magic user of the Hungering said.  Though it spoke, its gaze seemed distant, as though it were merely mouthing the words that were being spoken somewhere far away.

“What do you want with her?”  Lucidil asked, not eager to make a decision that would certainly be unpopular amongst the people, even if it did wrest them from the brink of death.

“What we want is not of your concern.  If you do not give us the girl, we will wash over your army and devour you to the last.  Give us the girl, and we will sail from these shores.”  The Blue answered, no emotion showing in its voice at all.

“What assurance do you offer that you will do as you say?”  Lucidil pressed.  His line of questioning made it obvious that he was considering the offer.

“Your Majesty, you mustn't . . .” Tyvel said from where he stood at his king's side.  “Trillia is your daughter.  She is just a little. . .”

“Be quiet, Tyvel.”  Lucidil snapped, and the ghost obeyed.  The king turned his focus back upon the Hungering representative.  “What assurance do I have that you'll leave these lands?”

“You have none, but we will destroy you if you do not give us what we want, King of Men.  Of that you can be certain.”  The sing-song voice answered, once more emotionless.

“Alright, I'll give you what you want, but if you don't leave after you get her, I will. . .”  Lucidil began, but he let his words trail off.  There was little he could do to threaten the Hungering.

The creature nodded.  “Then bring the girl to me at once.”

Lucidil turned to Tyvel.  “Have Fero bring the girl.”  He ordered, but Tyvel shook his head.

“Your Majesty, I cannot do that.  I have done many terrible things, but Kay is so young.  She . . .” Tyvel's tried to resist, but Lucidil's words bit over his.

“You cannot refuse the order of your king, Tyvel.  Go and tell Ferocity to bring the girl here, or I will put a knife through your ancient, dried heart.  Do you hear me, specter?”  Lucidil's eyes were red with anger, and Tyvel didn't dare question him again.  He shrank back, and vanished from in front of Lucidil.

When next he emerged, he appeared at the location nearest Ferocity and Kay.  He was distraught, at a loss for what he should do.  He had long feared his own death, and had done terrible things to preserve his own existence, but he wasn't sure that he could play a part in what Lucidil had planned.  It had not been long since he'd spoken with Lowin, and tried to justify his actions to the young, purple-eyed Knight.  He had failed, of course, because there was no way to justify his betrayal.  That betrayal ate away at his mind.  Tyvel was not an evil man, but he had done many evil things in his unnaturally long years of life.  He decided, at that moment, that he would not be party to another.

He found Ferocity, and knew that he need only tell her the truth of what Lucidil intended to get her aid.  Lucidil might be able to let the girl die, but Fero loved Trillia as only a mother could.  She would not so callously throw away the life of the child she considered a daughter, even for Weaver.

“Fero, Lucidil is planning to trade Trillia to the Hungering in exchange for them leaving the continent.”  The ghost like creature told the Knight.  She was aghast.

“. . . but she's our daughter.”  She said numbly.  “He wouldn't. . .”  She grabbed her sword belt, strapped it on and walked out into the night.  She wound her way through the camp and to the place where the meeting between the Hungering Blue and Lucidil was taking place.  She stormed in, full of rage and indignation.

“Is what Tyvel says true?”  She demanded of Lucidil.  “Are you going to give our Trillia to these . . . these monsters?!”  She demanded, pointing to the blue creature who sat unmoving opposite the king.  Lucidil stood up and faced the woman he had spent the better part of the last fifty years with.

“I'm doing it for the people.  Trillia's life will save many, and the Hungering have sworn to treat her as a princess.  I can't pass up this opportunity to save the people.”  Lucidil said, reaching out for Fero.  She stepped away from him.

“You can't, Lucidil.  You can't do this!  Do you think your people would want you to give in to the demands of these monsters?  Do you think your people will support you if you give up your own flesh and blood to the enemy?”  The female Knight asked, demanding an answer.

“She is not my flesh and blood, Fero.  She is not really our daughter.  You are barren, and I have sired no offspring.”  His words were like knives to the woman who had loved him for so long.

“She has been a part of our lives for years.  We have raised her, and loved her, and though she did not come from my womb, I still love her.  I won't give up my daughter.”  Her words rang with conviction.  She turned and fled back towards the tent in which she knew Kaylien was sleeping.

“If you do not deliver the girl soon, we will resume our attack.”  The Blue said from where it sat, waiting.

“Give me twenty minutes.”  Lucidil's response was cold.  He turned and followed after Fero, flashing forward like a blur.

Ferocity had almost reached the tent when Lucidil caught up with her.  He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around to face him.  Tears streaked down her face, and sobs slipped between her lips.

“Why are you doing this, Lucidil?”  She asked, her voice shaking in her throat.  “Why would you send our little girl away with those monsters?”  Tyvel stood outside the tent, watching events unfold but unable to do anything in his hazy form.

“I am doing what is best for everyone.”  Lucidil snapped.  “You have more sense than this, Ferocity.  We have fought too long and too hard to die here.  I will win this battle, and I will wipe out the Hungering forever, but I need more time to build up my armies.  This will give me. . .”

Ferocity smacked him with all the force she could muster.  The sound rang out through the night.  “It is always about you.  You want the world.  You want to control everything.  Well what about Trillia?  What does she want?  You're going to take that all away from her.  She loves you, Lucidil. She loves her father.”

“You will go get the girl and bring her here immediately.  I'm not going to tell you again.”  Lucidil's voice was edged with malice.

“No. . .”  Fero uttered, and she reached for her sword.

“You would raise your sword against me?”  Weaver's voice was full of anger.  “I am your king, woman!”

“Please, Lucidil, I love you so much.  Don't make me. . .”  Fero's sword arm shook.

Lucidil drew his weapon.

Tyvel vanished from where he had been standing, knowing already what was to happen outside.  Ferocity was a strong fighter, but she couldn't hold a candle to Lucidil.  When she chose to draw sword, she consigned herself to death.  Tyvel appeared in the chamber in which his body was kept.  It was as frail and old as it had been when he was first turned into the shade he'd been living as for so many years.

He turned to it, ignoring the stares of the guards in the room, and did something that he'd never thought to do again.  He entered the body, and forced it back to life.  The heart, withered though it was, started again, the blood frozen in stasis for so many years, began to flow.  Tyvel was flesh and blood once more.

He rose from where he lay, forcing his old and decrepit body to work for him.  It didn't want to.  It was tired and nearing death, but he forced it to move anyway.  Fero would hold her own for a time, but not for long.  He hobbled into the tent in which Kaylien slept and made his way to her bed.  The guards did not stop him since he still looked like the Tyvel they knew, even if he was moving like he was suddenly on his death bed.

“Child, please wake up, child.”  He whispered to her.

Kay stirred and looked up at the ghost-made-flesh.  “You're all wrinkly.”  She commented in only the way the young can declare their observations.

“Yes, I am.”  Tyvel replied.  “Now, I need you to do something important for me.  Can you do this?”  He asked her, the words becoming difficult to speak.  His body was failing, and he knew it.  The energy of his existence could only carry him so far.

“Yes.”  She said solemnly, understanding from Tyvel's tone that the situation was important.

“I need you to run out the back of this tent, and just keep running as far and as fast as you can.  Keep running until you can't anymore.  Don't turn around, and don't come back.”  Tyvel gasped, the words becoming increasingly difficult to form.

“Mommy and daddy will get angry.”  She said, looking dubious.

“No, I will take any blame for this.  Please, child, run.”  Tyvel urged.  Kay got out of her bed, and slipped her feet into her boots, pulling a cloak about her shoulders.

“Ok, but you'd better be telling the truth about taking the trouble for this.”  The little girl said, still looking dubious.

“I am.”  Tyvel assured her once more.  Kay slipped out the back of the tent without another word.  Her footfalls padded off into the distance.  The guards did not chase her, obviously believing Tyvel had sent her on an errand.  At least, the tired ghost thought, she'd have a chance.  He turned from her bed, and began to rise, but a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.  Tyvel looked up into Lucidil's red, burning eyes.  The king's free hand was wrapped around his sword hilt, the blade was dripping blood.  Weaver had not a scratch upon him.

“I am surrounded by traitors, Tyvel, but you . . . I never thought you would betray me.  Where is Kay?”  He asked, his voice a snapping whip.

“She is long gone from here.”  Tyvel answered, and his heart pulsed hard in his chest.  “. . . soon so shall I be.”  He added.

“You think I'll let you die so easily?”  Lucidil's question was tinged with bitter anger.  He lifted Tyvel's fragile body from the ground with his free hand.  “Where is my daughter?”  He called even louder.  The servants in the tent were tucked deep into the corners, trying not to take any of the wrath from their enraged king.  His red eyes turned to them.

“Where has she gone?”  The king demanded, and they pointed out the back entrance to the tent.  Lucidil smiled.

“Tyvel, you've died for nothing.”  He said, and plunged his sword deep into the dying man's gut.  Pain exploded through his body as Lucidil let him fall to the ground.  Thankfully, his heart gave out before he could feel the recently reawakened acids from his stomach begin to eat away at his wound.

Lucidil stormed out of the tent after Kay.

It's a short story, but an important one.  I held Tyvel in a great deal of contempt for many years, but in the end he died trying to do what was right.  I don't know if that alleviates him of his other evils or not, but I believe it allows me to remember the good moments with him without feeling the sting of his later betrayal.  In the end, he tried to die a good man.

Fero - who I knew so little - died fighting for my daughter's life, and she deserves to be remembered as a hero for that.  Under any other circumstances, she might have been a friend.  I honored both her and Tyvel with a grand funeral ceremony, though I don't believe I did half-so-much as they deserved.  Whatever else they were, they both died as heroes to me.

The Snow Song

Vol. 3 of The Hungering Saga

by

Heath Pfaff

Version 1.0b

The Snow Song is ©2009 by Heath Pfaff

All rights reserved.

I had done many things in my life –  fought in many battles, suffered many losses, and killed more men and beasts than I cared to remember –  but none of that prepared me for the task of being a king.  It took me two years after the fall of Lucidil to gain the crown, for the manner of succession was deeply clouded, and with the threat of the Hungering seemingly passed, suddenly there was an abundance of men willing to take upon themselves the mantle of power.  They, however, were lacking the one thing which was most important.  I had the support of the man who had been the primary advisor to the line of kings for more than two hundred years.  Ethaniel, first Knight of the Knight's of Ethan, and the most respected warrior of our land, stood in support of my ascension to the throne after the disposition of King Lucidil, the man whose death I had played no small part in.

Of course, I hadn't been a party to his death in order to become king.  In truth it could have been said that I had played little to no part at all in Lucidil's demise.  I had been lying on the ground, at the cusp of death, when the previous king was felled.  Malice, a fellow Knight of Ethan, a lover, a love, had delivered the killing blow to the red-eyed king.  Lucidil had not been a kind man.  He had been a cold hearted killer, with his eyes set upon capturing the world.  No atrocity had been beyond his scope, if he had thought it might bring him closer to his goal.  His last such inhumanity had been his undoing.  He gave my daughter, Kaylien, into the hands of the Hungering, a race of flesh devouring monsters from across the sea, in exchange for their agreement to leave our lands.  She had been only six years old at the time.

The Hungering assured Lucidil that the girl would not be harmed, but that had not mattered.  In my eyes, in Malice's eyes, Lucidil had gone too far.  We fought him, and when our defeat seemed definite, Malice struck with the last of her strength and killed the fiery-eyed ruler of men, leaving the land without a king.  Unfortunately, Malice was near fatally wounded in the struggle.

I too, had been injured by Lucidil, but I recovered quickly, while Malice lay for months in a deep sleep from which I could not wake her.  I stayed by her side for most of that time, fearing that she might pass into death if I left for more than a few minutes.  When she finally did awake, however, she was changed.  She still had the voluptuous body of a woman, but her mind had regressed to that of a girl of thirteen or fourteen.  It was as though she'd erased all the bad parts of her life, and returned to a time when she was just a sweet, young innocent.

She was still a Knight in body, with powerfully clawed arms and legs, the result of replacing her human limbs with that of the nomadic and fearsome fur clad monsters of the frozen lands, Fell Beasts.  Her eyes still shone a miraculous green, bright and vivid, shifting with her emotions, and broken only by the ring of white around the place where the pupil would be on a human's eye, but she was not the Malice who had been the master of swords for the Knights of Ethan.  She still followed me, as she had almost as long as I had known her, but her attention had become like a young girl with a crush, and not like a friend whose council and companionship could help me through the hard times.  I had never told her how much I loved her before she was injured, and I dared not do so in her fragile, innocent state.  I did not doubt, when I looked into her loving eyes, that she would give anything to me that was in her power to give, but I could not accept any such affection from her while I knew that she was as timid as a child.

With Ethaniel's help, I finally took the crown, and began to build the ships I knew that I needed if I was to go after the Hungering, to bring back my lost daughter.  I did so, however, with a heart weighted heavily by tragedy.  My daughter was lost, given into the arms of a terrible enemy.  If the Hungering kept her alive, I feared what would happen to her mind under such conditions.  My love, my dearest friend, Malice, was diminished to a mere shadow of the woman she had once been, and everything else I knew and loved in my life was gone.

To make matters worse, I found myself in a world of double-talking and politics that I had never before experienced.  All sought the favor of the king, but at the same time, all sought to gain control of the king.  It was a constant battle with the nobles, and sometimes even the common people, in order to maintain some semblance of control, and I was ill adjusted to the task.  Ethaniel guided me.  My advisors guided me.  It seemed, however, that I did little to guide myself.  I wanted nothing more than to have my ships built so that I might set sail once more, and leave the kingdom, and my crown, far behind.

I hoped that time at sea, away from the castle and the unfamiliar world of the king's court, might aid Malice in remembering what she had been before Lucidil had nearly killed her.  I wanted my family back.

I did not want to be the king.

I sat staring at Liet from across a table covered in scrolls and documents that I was supposed to be reading.  The documents pertained to various business arrangements that would, in theory, aid the country in its attempt to recover from the massive damages that had been wrought by the Hungering.  I had spent four years since becoming king, reading through the various offers and treaties from the human nobles, heads of clans, as well as those presented by the representatives of the other races of our land.  All were eager to help, if they felt it would better their own standing.  The greatest trick was determining which of the deals offered would aid the people at the least cost.  For the time being though, I was ignoring all the various documents, and concentrating my efforts on the man who stood across from me.

Liet's eyes were hard. A barely restrained brutality lay just beneath the surface.  He had once been a knight of the king, not a Knight of Ethan, but a human knight in service to the king.  When I had escaped from the capital city after it was overrun with the Hungering, Liet had been one of the few humans to survive the ensuing battles.  He had proven his courage and strength on multiple occasions, even fighting on after sustaining serious injuries.  In the end, I left him in safety, or so I thought, at Lucidil's war camp, and departed to take care of other business.  It wasn't until well after the old king's death, that I learned what had become of the brave knight, Liet.

Lucidil had Liet turned into a black cloak, one of the Black Patch Brigade, a creature with the body of a Fell Beast and the head of a man.  Unlike with the Knights of Ethan, the black cloaks were shaped and bound by strong magics that dictated their behavior.  The Fell Beast, being the greater portion of their body, held strong sway over the personality that resulted from the blending of forms.  The only way to keep the black cloaks under control was to formulate strict restrictions into the magical process.  Liet, the good, honest, and hard working knight whom I had fought beside, was merely a shadow behind the eyes of the creature that stood before me in my study.

Upon learning of his fate, I had ordered the cessation of all such magical research.  Of course, I had not been king at the time, and my words were taken in stride.  Once I put on the crown, however, I closed down the kingdom's magical research centers.  The cost was too great, and the pay off too little.  My choice to eliminate magic was not well met.  The nobles, heads of various human clans, accused me of trying to make of myself a god.  They believed that I had gotten rid of magical research so that nothing stronger than me was ever created.  Others believed that by doing away with magic, I was allowing the country to weaken, and that it was only a matter of time before someone, led by a magically created army, would come in and destroy us all.

I, who had lost much to magic over the years, could not justify the cost that must be paid in order to create magical energy.  For every magic, there must be a sacrifice.  Even the enchanted lanterns used for most public lighting required a sacrifice of life, minor though it might seem to kill a calf to power several of the ever glowing lights, when that same calf was to be slaughtered for its meat anyway.  Where does one draw the line between killing an animal for power, and killing a man for power?  Lucidil, my predecessor, had lost sight of that line, and I feared that, should I allow magical research to continue, I might as well.  Liet's fearsome eyes still bore into me, reaffirming my belief that magic came at too terrible a cost.

When I had closed down the research center that was responsible for creating the black cloaks, I had received threats against my life from a researcher referred to as Father.  He was the head of the project and had worked closely with Lucidil during the creation and shaping of the process by which the Black Patch Brigade was produced.  In the end it had taken mobilization of military forces to extract him from his offices, and he had sworn that he would have his revenge on me in some way unless we gave him his research back.  I ordered the research documents destroyed, and Father exiled from the country.  I often wondered if banishing the man was enough, but I would not bring myself to kill a man who had been doing what he considered a service to his country, especially not while I was still making use of those forces he'd created.

“How are you today, Liet?”  I asked the black-cloaked figure before me.  He did not respond.

“Liet, I asked you how you're feeling?”  I repeated the question, much as I had every morning for the past two years.  At first, after becoming king, I had been too distressed by the sight of the changed Liet to even consider speaking to him.  Over time, I realized that by avoiding Liet, I was paying him a disservice.  I had fought beside him.  He was a brother of battle.  I ordered him to my private guard after that, intent upon showing him the respect his service owed him.

Liet did not answer me.

I sighed heavily.  “Zet-grutkol-grutfen-gret," Liet snapped to attention.  The ponderously long name was actually a number torn from a long dead language.  1,994.  He was one of the last black cloaks, but there were still far too many.  “How are you feeling?”

“I am ready and able to serve, my King.”  He answered, his voice the gruff growl that remained of his human voice after being joined with the Fell Beast.  It was not the answer I sought, nor was it any different from any answer I'd ever received.  I felt certain that Liet still existed somewhere within the mind of the black cloak, but trying to reach him had not proved fruitful.  In the early days, I had spent hours at a time trying to break through to the core of his personality.  As time passed, and my efforts were met with failure after failure, I'd fallen into a routine.

“From this point on, Zet-grutkol-grutfen-gret, I will refer to you as Liet, and you will respond only to that name.  Do you understand?”  I made my voice crisp and clear, letting the black cloak know that I was issuing an order.  I had done the same thing previously, every single morning.  The command held for a while, but eventually he would once again come to only respond to his Black Patch Brigade identification.  Each time I had to repeat that order, it felt as though a hammer struck my heart.  I wondered if he suffered, trapped inside his monstrous body.

“I understand, my King.”  The black cloak answered.  His eyes still burned with barely contained hostility, and deep seeded hunger.  I knew both of those feelings.  I too was joined with the Fell Beast, and I knew what it was to have the beast's boundless brutality pent up inside.  Even calm as I was, if I concentrated, I could almost see the beast stalking through the dark recesses of my mind.

“How did you sleep, Liet?”  I asked, pushing aside my own dark thoughts, and trying to draw out the bright-eyed and intelligent knight I had once known.

“I rested well.  I am ready to serve.”  Liet answered, no appreciable emotion in his voice.

My anger flared and I slammed my right fist, my only fist, down on my desk.  Liet did not flinch.  He watched me, his human eyes seeming like blank glass behind which was a feral malice.  I clenched my fist, and let my hand drop to my side as I leaned back in my chair.  The shoulder of my left arm, the shoulder that now had not even a nub on which to end, ached as I tried to clench the fist that was no longer attached to the arm.  My anger dissipated as quickly as it had come, burned away like the flesh of my left arm.

Many had believed that with my remarkable ability to heal, my left arm would eventually regenerate itself.  However, the blue fire of the Hungering had damaged the tissue to too great a degree.  The tingle of healing had eventually faded from the wound, and the fur that remained, a reminder of the Fell Beast from which I'd taken the arm, had turned as white as fresh fallen snow.  Many saw my missing arm as a sign of weakness.  They were correct.  I was no longer as able as I had been with both arms, but it was foolish to think me less than deadly because I lacked one of my limbs.  No few assassins had learned that truth the hard way.

The assassins were ceaseless in their pursuit.  Ethaniel told me that it was to be expected since I was a new king, but I noted that Lucidil, and the king before him, had never suffered so many attacks.  Ethaniel had merely shrugged, not willing to offer any further advice or explanation.  Ethaniel, first of the Knights of Ethan, should have been the king.  I knew it, and the people knew it.  Sometimes it seemed even the black cloaks, who served me without question, looked at me as if they too knew who belonged on the throne.  I tried not to care.

I had taken the position of king so that I could have my ships built, so that I might follow those who'd taken my daughter, Kaylien.  Once I was aboard a ship, and sailing across the sea, I didn't care what became of the kingdom I left behind.  That, I knew, was a terrible position for a king to take, but I was weary of the whole ordeal.  I had never wanted to serve as ruler, but it had been necessary.  For some reason, Ethaniel had thought it a good idea.  He'd never precisely told me why he backed me, no matter how hard I pressed him for an answer.

In my time as king, I had done my best to serve the people.  Despite not wanting the job, I felt responsible for those who trusted in my judgment.  Whether they liked my decisions or not, I tried to make choices that would allow the people to live comfortably and without fear.  I struggled not to make the same mistakes as my predecessors, but that was no easy task.  Everyone I spoke to, even my advisors, all had their own agendas.  It was nearly impossible to tell good advice from bad, when everyone had some, seemingly rational, advice to give.

After the war with Hungering, it had seemed like it would be so simple to bring peace to the kingdom, but it had not taken long for the independent tribes to split off once more.  Even the Shao Geok, a tribal race of fearsome creatures who had long fought against humanity, but joined in the fight against the Hungering, had returned to their homes far to the south, leaving without so much as a word as to what their future intentions might be.  Was peace even a possibility any longer?  I didn't know.

“You may return to your post, Liet.”  I said, and I heard the defeat in my voice as I spoke.  It was hard to remain positive when it seemed the world sought your failure.

“Yes, my King.”  Liet turned, and walked from the room.  As soon as the door opened, Malice darted her way inside, rushing past the dangerous black-cloaked warrior.  Liet watched her with his menacing eyes, but did not stop her.  He was well aware that she had free run of the castle.

Malice, in her mad dash across the room to my desk, very nearly skidded into the table, coming up short only by a few inches, and windmilling her arms to reestablish her balance.  She wore a wide smile across her young face, and I was once again stricken by just how beautiful she was.  She had the body of exceedingly shapely sixteen year old woman, with heavy endowments.  Her hair was a brilliant red, and hung freely about her shoulders, not much longer than collar length.  Her eyes were vivid green, the eyes of a Knight of Ethan, but filled with the mirth and joy of youth.  Her face, which had usually worn an expression of seriousness, lit the entire room when she smiled.

She was dressed in a one piece summer dress, with no sleeves, a modest, but not severe neck line, and a hem that came down to about mid thigh.  It was the type of dress any girl her apparent age might wear in the warmer months of the year.  Of course, it was late fall, and her actual age was nearly two hundred years.  Her arms and legs were those of a Fell Beast, covered in soft black fur, and ended in claws that could rip the throat from a man with little effort.  Guiding all that power and beauty, was the mind of a fourteen year old innocent.  Her appearance was a confusing, but not unpleasant, mix of brutal power and bottomless grace.

“Good morning, Lowin!”  She exclaimed as she seated herself on the edge of my desk, knocking various scrolls and papers free.  As was my talk with Liet, Malice's exuberant morning greeting had become a part of my daily ritual.  She spent most of her waking time with me, and most of her night hours curled up in my bed, though she had her own quarters.  I, being a Knight of Ethan, did not need to sleep very often, though I found that I enjoyed the quiet of my quarters in the deep of the night.  She, strangely, for she was also a Knight, slept every night, and I allowed her to use my room.  I could forbid her nothing, for I still loved her dearly, and hoped daily for the recovery of her mind.  Though we sometimes shared a bed, it was not in the way that one shares a bed with a lover, but as an adult protecting a child.  I had vowed to myself that I would not take advantage of her while her mind remained fragile.  The years had passed, and she had not gotten any better.

“Good morning, Laouna.”  I used her human name, from a time before she was a Knight of Ethan.  She didn't identify with the name “Malice,” and it didn't seem fitting to call her by it.  “I trust you had a good night.”  I knew full well that she had slept soundly, for she had spent the night curled up in my bed, while I lay on a couch nearby.  I would not allow myself to lay with her long.  It had been too many years, and I craved her intimate company with such a vigor that I feared I might I exceed my restraints.  Every night, after she fell asleep, I pulled myself from her grasp and went about my business.

She scrunched up her face.  “I'd sleep better if you didn't always leave in the night.  Where did you go last night?”  This was yet another aspect of the morning routine.  Every night I left the room, and in the morning, she asked me where I had gone.  This morning I could answer her honestly without fearing hurting her.

“I came here, to catch up on my work.  It seems that there is always more waiting for me.”  I answered with a sigh.  Some nights, not often, but when I was most lonely, I made my way to Snow's quarters.  The young, white-furred, master of swords for the Knights of Ethan, was always an eager partner.  I was not sure what she felt for me, but I had made sure she understood that my love only lay in one place, even if my body wandered.  We were friends, and nothing more, though I knew she believed me a fool for holding on to my hope for Malice.

I was not so foolish, or unobservant, that I did not hear the whispering among the knights, the castle staff, and even amongst the nobles who visited.  They believed I took advantage of Malice's flesh because her mind was weak, and that I did not desire to find another woman because I did not wish to find one with a mind who might resist my advances.  Of those around me, very few believed that what I felt for Malice was sincere, and that I had not taken advantage of her in her innocent state.

None were so foolish as to say anything directly to me, or to insult Malice's honor, or my own, directly, but I could see the accusations in their eyes.  Snow, Ethaniel, and Malice, they were the only three that knew the truth, and of them only Malice believed I was right in the head.  Of course, she saw me through the idealistic eyes of a young girl with a crush.

“You work too much, you should . . .” A knock sounded at the door, interrupting Malice's reprimand.

A black cloak entered, not Liet, but the other who served on guard duty with him.  “The Lord of Clan Lheec wishes audience, my King.”  His eyes, dark and dangerous, caressed Malice's body with a look of mingled lust and violence.  Her innocence, and her shapely form, attracted the part of the black cloaks that was Fell Beast.  I had gotten use to that terrible stare, but I did not like to see it.

“You may see him in.”  I said, eager to have the guard gone.

“He wishes to see you . . . in private, your Highness.”  The half-man said, more pointedly looking at Malice, that hunger still in his eyes.  My mind replayed for me the image of a woman I had considered a sister, Wisp, and her shattered body, ravaged and brutalized by black cloaks that had slipped their magical leash.  I had to bite back my anger.

I pointed to a side door, one that led to my private study.  “Laouna, would you . . .”

Malice hopped down from the desk, a graceful movement that spoke volumes on the state of her physical condition.  Every movement she made was like art.  It was that movement that had made her, at one time, one of the most dangerous sword masters ever to train the Knights of Ethan.  She wore a sour look on her face.

“You let me know when you're done.”  She ordered, her face stoic. For just a moment, the barest breath, I saw the old weapon master shine through, and then the expression faded in the light of another smile.  “I'll be angry with you if you don't!”  She spun about and dashed from the room and into my study.  I blanched to think of what mischief she might get into in there, but I couldn't force myself to send her out past the black cloak with the hungry eyes.  His eyes traced her movements as she left the room.

“Send Lord Lheec in, please.”  I issued a sharp command, and the black cloak jumped to obey.

Lord Lheec was one of the many nobles I'd found myself dealing with while working on restoring the capital city to proper working order.  His clan made their home in lands rich with rock, and resources we needed to rebuild the many damaged segments of the city, and the other towns and villages that had been ravaged in the Hungering attack.  At first, he'd been only too willing to give to the cause, to “better the lives of our people,” but it soon became clear that he had only been trying to better his own position.  He had great resources upon which to draw because his homelands had not been struck by the Hungering.

I had, perhaps foolishly, taken advantage of the help he offered, and he seemed to believe that placed him in a better position to negotiate for whatever he wanted from me.  I had given him some of the things he wanted, for it seemed better to keep a man with such resources on good terms, but the last few times he had paid me a visit, I got the impression that he was aiming for something more, though he wouldn't speak his designs clearly.  I didn't trust the man.

He usually came later in the day, and I generally only met with him when Ethaniel was nearby.  Ethaniel was out of the castle on routine business, and Lheec's timing for his visit, so early in the day, was suspect.

The door to my general study opened, and Lheec was shown in by Liet.  The nobleman did not enter alone.  Behind him was a strikingly beautiful young woman adorned in a dress that probably cost more than a common person made in a year's time of hard labor.  The gown was cut to accentuate the girl's budding figure, and was hemmed in jewels that rang softly as she moved.  The sound, I knew, was so soft that those with human ears might not hear it, but it was clear enough to my Fell Beast senses.  She had bright blond hair, and pale, translucent skin.

Lheec strode confidently across the room to stand before me, bowing deeply as he came to within a few paces of my desk.  The girl, who seemed to almost quiver inside her extravagant gown, followed him, and curtsied awkwardly.  Beautiful though she might be, she was young, afraid, and still awkward.

“My King, it is good to see you looking well.”  Lheec said without prompting, and there was a massive and false smile plastered across his face.  I had seen enough of these smiles to be able to identify them with little more than a glance.  I did not bother to return the insincere expression.

“Lheec, what brings you to see me so early in the day?”  I asked bluntly.  My advisors, had they been present, would have blanched.  They tended to dislike my to-the-point attitude.  I was supposed to engage in small talk before getting to the business at hand.  However, I had never been one for discussions involving the weather, or the current selling price of local vegetation.

Lheec seemed taken aback for a moment, but he cleared his throat, strengthened his well crafted smile, and pressed on.

“Straight to the heart of the matter, my King, that is a noble and forthright attitude, refreshing in these hard times.”  Lheec said, laughing with the same insincerity with which he smiled.  The empty flattery made me nervous, though I kept my face composed and cool.

“This,” Lheec reached out and grabbed the girl that accompanied him, clenching her arm hard enough that I thought he might bruise her.  He pulled her forward.  The young woman, despite Lheec's harsh grasp, only came forward hesitantly.  “Is my youngest daughter, Bellena.  Bellena, this is his Majesty, King of Men, the Noble King, the Drake Slayer.”  He embellished my title in an attempt to honor me.  I did my best to not wince at the tired recital of titles.

Bellena curtsied once more, deeply this time, shaking on her feet as she did so.  Her eyes did not meet mine.  “It is my pleasure to meet you, my Liege.”  Her voice was surprisingly deep for such a young girl, far gruffer than I would have anticipated.  Lheec smiled over the girl's shoulder.

“Bell has just reached the age at which she might be married, my King.”  Lheec began, and the purpose of the meeting suddenly dawned on me.  I should have realized it the moment the girl walked in with Lheec to our “private” meeting, but I was still unaccustomed to the scheming of politicians, even after four years of dealing with them.

“Forgive me for noticing," Lheec continued.  “But you do not yet have a queen, and without a queen there can be no heirs for the country.  I saw this, and many of my countrymen have seen this as well, and we feel that it is an injustice to both you, and the very country in which we live.”  His speech was so rehearsed that it felt to me that he was reading it from parchment.  I let him continue.  “What would happen should some ill fate befall you?  Why, there would be an uprising amongst the people, and chaos in the kingdom!  This is why we need to assure the lineage of our king, so that in the event something unfortunate should befall you –  pray let that never happen – but should something happen, you will have children to carry on your name.

“This is why I've brought my daughter here today.  I can assure you that Bell is pure of heart and body, and that she will give you as many heirs as you wish.  The women of my blood are known for birthing strong, healthy boys, your Majesty.  Bell is also well schooled in child rearing, and the tasks of state.  She can keep books, and has been educated at only the best schools.  I do not make this offer lightly, my King, as Bell is my favorite daughter.”  He droned on, and I tuned him out, knowing he would continue for a while.  I looked at Bellena, Bell.

She was pretty, if overly young.  If she was old enough to marry, she was just so.  Though I looked like a young man of sixteen, maybe seventeen, I was nearly twice that many years.  Being a Knight of Ethan, I did not age.  Bell was maybe two, three years at the most, older than my own daughter.  On top of that, she was terrified of me.  She stood before me shaking as though I were a monster that might devour her at any moment.  Perhaps, I thought, that was exactly what I was.  Certainly I was no mortal man.

“What do you say?”  Lheec asked, obviously having come to the end of his dialogue.  He had noticed me watching the girl, and his eyes had a glimmer of victory in them.  He didn't understand that I saw her less as a woman, and more as a little girl.

“At this time," I began, trying to find the words that would least offend the Lord of Lheec.  “I am not in a position to consider taking a wife.  There are too many. . .”

Lheec held up a hand, a dangerous spark in his eyes.  “Now, now, your majesty, I don't want you to make this decision in haste.  This is my most favored daughter, after all, and turning her down outright would be a terrible slight to both her, and my family.  Why don't I leave her here with you for the day?  I will come back tomorrow, and at that time I will accept whatever decision you make, knowing you gave the matter your full attention.”

Bell was shaking even harder then, her shoulders twitching lightly in what I knew were sobs, though she kept her face down turned, and the slight noise I heard would have been impossible to make out if not for my acute hearing.  Lheec had me in a corner.  If I refused him at that time, he would have a reason to withdraw his land's aid.  If Ethaniel had been there, he might have found a more politic way to extricate me from the situation, but I could not think of one.

“Perhaps you are right, Lheec.  I will keep company with Bell for the day, and consider this proposition more carefully.”  The sound of my private study door sliding shut, as though it had been cracked just enough for someone to listen through, came to my ear, and I cursed inwardly.  Malice, of course, had been spying.  She hated being left out of anything.

“Good!”  Lheec exclaimed, his eyes brightening once more.  Bell was still silently sobbing.  “Now Bellena, you show King Noble why you'd make the very best wife for him, girl.  Remember all that we taught you, and I know that you won't fail to impress.”  Lheec said to the young woman, who did not look up to meet his eyes, or mine.  Lheec did not seem to care or notice.

“I leave her in your just care, my King.”  Lheec's voice oozed a sick confidence, before he turned and walked from the room.  Bell stood quietly in place, her eyes downcast, her shoulders shaking with silent sobbing.  Lheec had chosen his youngest daughter because he believed I liked women who were young of mind, and malleable.  His actions only went further towards proving exactly what all the nobles of my kingdom thought of me.  They saw me as a tyrant who preyed upon the weak and innocent.  By offering me Bell, he offered me a girl who would be of service, and was young enough to be trained in whatever fashion I wished for my wife.  He was trying to supplant the position he thought that Malice was filling.  That realization angered me, not because it was true, but because it showed such little faith in me as a person.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, that I barely noticed that Bell had begun to remove her dress.  She moved in a mechanical fashion, unfastening the clips on her outfit with fingers that looked as though they only moved numbly.

“What do you think you're doing?”  I asked, my voice stern.  I felt bad for the girl, but I had no intention of relaxing my demeanor in her presence.

“My King, I'm going to show you what a good wife I can be.  I have been told what I must do to please a man, and I am willing to offer myself to you.”  She whispered, her voice soft, frightened.  She did not stop undressing.

I took a deep breath to stifle my anger.  Lheec believed I would be swayed by the promise of flesh, and he'd offered up his own daughter.  I was disgusted.

I stood up from my desk, and the world slowed around me.  I forced myself through the slowness, ripping through the resistant air, moving so quickly that I knew human eyes couldn't follow my progress.  I used the gift of speed that only the Knights of Ethan who'd taken the legs of the Fell Beast could manage.  I came to a stop when I stood directly before Bell, letting the world resume normal pace around me.  The girl shrieked and fell backwards, her dress falling open as she landed on her backside, exposing a chest not fully ripened with puberty.

“You're just a little girl.  You want no part of this monster.”  I growled, looking down at her, and smiling, exposing the fangs that had grown to replace my human teeth.  Bell's eyes streamed with tears as she gazed up, her face pale beyond white in her terror.

“Did your father really think a human girl could ever satisfy my urges?”  I filled my voice with venom, though the words were as false as any I'd ever spoken.  I was certain her body would have well sated my lusts, but it was better if she believed something foolish, than that I was rejecting her for some reason that might be her fault.  Better still, if her father believed that as well.  I didn't think he would look well upon Bellena when she returned unsuccessful.  At least if I did not sully the girl's honor, she should be able to find a husband elsewhere.  She was still shaking in fear, crying openly now.  I really was a monster.

“Dress yourself.  You will remain here until I send a servant to give you quarters for the night.  I do not want the company of a girl who cannot match my brutality.”  I turned my back on her, and listened as her sobs eased.  For all that I had scared her; she was relieved to know that she would not need to give herself to a monster, to the Maimed King.

“I have a private matter to attend to.  Make yourself presentable, and I will send someone for you.”  I ordered over my shoulder, and then I walked towards my private study, in which I knew I would find a very upset Malice.  I had probably just ruined my associations with Lheec and his people.  In my anger, I had reacted hastily.  There would be repercussions.

As I drew near my study door, my sensitive ears picked up a faint sound.  Quiet crying issued from behind the intricately carved wood surface.  It seemed I had a bad-way with women.

Malice's eyes were downcast as I entered the room, but her crying stopped as soon as the door began to open.  I slipped in quietly, not opening the door far enough to expose the still dazed, and unclothed form of Bell who was collecting herself on the floor of my public study.  My dear friend, my love, was sitting in my chair, her legs curled up and wrapped in her fur clad arms which ended in those lethal talons.  She said nothing, so I took a seat in one of those chairs across the desk from her.

“You really shouldn't listen in on business matters, Laouna.”  I told her, not sternly, but with a great sense of sadness.  She did not respond immediately.

“Are you going to make that girl your queen?”  She asked, her voice as timid as I'd ever heard it.  Had I not been looking at her, had I not known she was the only other person in the room, I wouldn't have believed it was her.

I shook my head.  “No, I'm not going to make that girl my queen.   I should.  It would make Lheec happy, and that would be good for the country, at least in the short term, but still, I will not marry her.”

“That's good.”  Laouna answered, a little more confidence in her voice.  “I was scared. . .”  She paused for a moment.  “That you wouldn't want me around anymore.”

“That won't happen, Mali. . . Laouna.  You don't have to worry about that.”  I replied, my heart heavy with the words.  For all that she might never recover, I knew in my heart that I would hold out hope for as long as we both still lived.  I was foolish in such ways.  I had done the same for Kyeia, in a time that seemed forever gone.

The green-eyed girl looked up, an innocent smile on her tear-streaked face.  It was good to see her wearing such an expression again.

“I wouldn't mind being your queen.”  She told me then, her smile fading into a more serious expression.  “I would always be there when you needed me, and I would help you run the kingdom, and fight the criminals.”

“Perhaps, when you're. . .”  What was I going to say?  When you're older.  She was already far older than myself.  “When life is less complicated.”  I finished lamely.

Malice's face fell, the remainder of her smile fleeing.

“I love you, you know.”  She told me, words I'd never heard her say when she was Malice the Knight, but that I heard now three times from Laouna the child.

“I know, and I love you too.”  I answered, the words were true.  I had loved Malice for a long time before even I realized it, but had never told her until she lay in a coma, on the verge of death.  That weighed heavily as one of the many regrets in my life.  I'd been told by many people that living with regrets was useless, but I still believed that keeping my regrets with me, meant that I would not mistakenly make the same bad choices again.

A pained expression crossed Malice's face.  “Then why do you never lay beside me in the night?  Why do you never kiss me?  I've seen lovers in the court, and I've seen them walk holding hands, and kissing beneath the trees in the garden.  Why do we not do these things?  Why, Lowin?  What is different between us?  Why do you leave the bed every night?  I just want to be close to you.”  I could see the tears in her eyes once more.  Her face held the expression of the very young, frustrated when they don't understand something that they consider simple.  Her questions were difficult ones to answer.  I knew the reason, but how could I tell her?  She was physically an adult, but her attitudes, her personality, and her understanding of the world were those of a child.  Giving her what she thought she wanted, would be taking advantage of an innocent crush.

I felt a tear streak down my face.  Her words pained me more than any wound I could remember taking.  Her questions were the questions that tore me apart every night, and sent me wandering the halls in the calm quiet of the evening.  The darkness held no answers, only more questions, yet I pursued it whenever I could not find answers, as though I might someday cast all my problems into the depth of its bottomless void.  When the void became too much to bear alone, I looked for peace elsewhere.  The yearning for Malice sent me to Snow for solace that could never be found in her arms.

“. . . because I never want to hurt you.”  I replied, giving her the only answer that I could come up with.  It was the single light of truth that I could cling to.  I kept my distance so that I did not hurt her.

“. . . but not being close to you is what hurts me.”  She said softly, her head downcast, her shoulders shaking as she cried once more.  I got up from my chair and walked across to her. I held my hand down to her until she reached up and took it.  I pulled her up and close to me, wrapping my only arm about her body.

“I'm sorry, Laouna, but you needn't fear that I will leave you behind.  You've been important to me longer than even you can even remember, and that will not change.”  I told her as she dried her eyes on my shoulder.

“Before I woke up from my dream. . .”  She said, which was how she referred to her coma.  She could remember nothing of the times before that, other than a remote childhood with parents whose faces were a blur, lost to time.  She could read and write, and knew her name, but whether intentionally, or as part of some defense system of her mind and body, she had blocked out everything leading up to her becoming a Knight of Ethan and beyond.  Though she had always remembered my name.

When she'd first come back from the coma, she woke, looked straight at me and said, “I love you, Lowin.”  I had been overjoyed.  I had feared she would never wake, and the fear had been growing with each passing week.  It wasn't until some hours had passed, and we began to talk, that I realized what had been lost during her long sleep.

“We were together then, too, right?”  She asked, as ever looking for the confirmation of our bond, as though my merely speaking the words guaranteed that we were one, and always would be.

“Yes, we were together then.  You've been beside me through all the hardest times, Laouna.  I could not ask for a better companion.”  I said, and felt her pull back a little.

She looked up at me, her face still tear-streaked, but her eyes cleared.  Her face was serious.

“Will you kiss me?”  She pleaded, leaning towards me.  Perhaps I should have said no, but I could not deny her when she was so freshly hurt.  I leaned forward, and she came forward as well.  Our lips met, hers puckered awkwardly, as a girl who has seen the action performed, but never tried it in person.  We touched but briefly before I drew away, not willing to allow myself to give into the fire that suddenly burned from my lips down through my body.  In the dark recesses of my mind, the Fell Beast stirred.  It wanted Malice almost as badly as I did, but in different, terrible ways.

I drew back, and Malice was smiling now, her cheeks a pleasant shade of flushed pink, beautifully offset by her deep red hair, and shimmering green eyes.  The kiss had been brief, but it had been enough to make her happy.  I returned her smile, a gesture I seemed only capable of when she was around.  There were few enough occasions for joy in the world.

“If you're feeling better," I said.  “there is business for us to be about this morning.  Snow will be waiting for us at the training yard, and you know how she gets when we're late.  I also still have to send a servant to deal with Lheec's daughter.  The girl will need a room for the night.”

Malice's face soured.  “I don't like Snow, and you better make sure Lheec's daughter is in a room on the other side of the castle.”  Her voice snapped with the tiniest hint of her old note of command.  The mirth in her eyes dispelled the effect, but I knew that her mood was lifted once more, though I felt that mine was no better for the stolen kiss.  I was simply reminded of what was lost.  Still, I had no intention of letting Malice know that.  If she was happy, then I could feign happiness as well.

“I assure you the girl will be in the furthest comfortable room the castle has, but it's unkind of you not to like Snow.  She is very fond of you.”  I knew exactly why Malice disliked Snow.  She was jealous.  She knew nothing of the nights I'd spent with the new weapon instructor of the Knights of Ethan, but she didn't need to in order to see that Snow was the only person, other than Malice herself, with whom I shared a friendship.  Of course, I was not lying about Snow either.  Snow really did like Malice, and had always looked up to her as a master of her craft.  I knew that Snow felt my continued affection for Malice was strange, but she still treated Malice well, and even went out of her way to try and help the girl recapture those skills that had made her a great swordsman.

One night, after Snow and I had spent the evening in close physical intimacy, she had told me how she had once had a crush on Malice.  All the while she was training with the sword, under the different masters, she had been told of how wonderful Malice was with the blade.  She had never had the chance to train directly under Malice, but she had always wanted to.  She noted that it wasn't common for her to have such feelings for women, but that Malice had been, to her, the ultimate symbol of strength and beauty.  Snow, in her own way, loved and respected Malice.  She, however, wasn't confident that the green-eyed beauty would ever recover the piece of herself lost.  I could not allow myself to accept that.

Malice sighed in exasperation.  “I just think we spend too much time with her.  She should have something better to do.  Other people need training as well.”

“This is true, but I am the king, and you are to be my queen some day, so certainly our training should come first. . .”  I trailed off, playing Malice's game.  It was easier than arguing with her.  I rarely won.

At the mention of becoming my queen, Malice's face lit up, the sour expression burning away in an instant.

“You're probably right.  I should learn how to fight, so I can save you from Lord Lheec's daughter!”  She blurted out.

I couldn't help but chuckle.  I'd never needed to be saved from small, defenseless girls before, but I could hardly rain on Laouna's enthusiasm.

“Shall we go then?”  I asked, gesturing at the door back into the main study.

“Probably.  Snow is mean when we're late.”  She said, face serious once more.  Indeed, Snow could be a tyrant if we did not show up on time.  She was a good instructor, but like Malice before her, she was strict.  Being the king didn't seem to have much of a blunting effect on that.

Together we walked back out into the main study.  Bell had straightened her clothing, and looked far more presentable.  She was no longer sobbing and she met my eyes, if only hesitantly, as Malice and I walked back into the larger public office.  She curtsied as I drew near.

Malice dropped the shoulder strap of part of her dress so that the fabric hung precariously from one of her large breasts, and clung to me possessively, sticking out her tongue at the frail young girl.

“Laouna!”  I snapped, the word spoken in a low angry tone.  Immediately Malice straightened back up and pulled the strap back into place.  She looked at me with half-apologetic smile.

Bell looked startled and confused, obviously not sure of what to make of Malice's behavior, and probably having never encountered the childhood expression involving sticking one's tongue out at another.  Even startled, she looked more composed than she had before I entered the private study.  The fear in her posture had significantly lessened.

“I will send the servant along in a moment, Lady Bellena.  I trust you will inform your Lord that I cannot accept his offer, gracious though it was.”  I spoke calmly and coldly.  It was a tone I'd learned from time spent with the Knights of Ethan.  They were all masters of intimidation, and I found the techniques useful as a king.  Malice, before her time of dreaming, had been a master of the art.

“Yes, My King. . .”  She paused for a moment, and I could see her wavering on the verge of saying something.  Finally, she did.  “Thank you . . . my father will be angry, but . . .”

I turned my back and walked away.  I was happy to have her thanks, but if I was to keep my illusion of aloof monstrosity, I couldn't allow myself to slip.  I walked from the room and into the hallway where the black cloaks waited.  I would send a servant to gather Bell before taking Malice to the morning's training session.

Snow's practice wand moved in a dizzying array of patterns before my eyes.  I kept my guard high and waited for the moment of attack that I knew was coming.  The patterns she used were different from those I'd been taught, but I found that the skills I'd learned still applied in dealing with my opponent.  Snow had learned under many different sword masters during her training, and was considered a prodigy of the blade.  She blended three distinct fighting styles with liquid grace.  Even so, facing her was like facing a shadow of the fighter Malice had once been.  I knew for certain that she was a better swordsman than I was, but by the same token I knew that Malice was better yet.  At least Malice had been better, when she was still Malice.

The attack came.  Snow exploded forward, her wooden sword darting and slicing with serpentine grace.  I knew that I would be at a loss to press the attack, so I fell back, turning the onslaught of strikes aside with all the skill I could muster.  Snow was pressing harder than she usually did, no doubt angry that Malice and I had been late to her class.  I could see it in the fire that burned behind her eyes.

The sound of wood on wood rang out with every success, each time a clear snap signaling that I had joined the pattern properly.  It seemed, for a moment, that things were going well, but my ears heard my mistake before my body had time to register.  The rhythmic snap of wood meeting wood sounded dully once, and then twice, and I knew that I was about to be hit.  I realized far too late that I had extended my balance too far to my right, and because of my missing arm, had no counter balance on my left side. My sword point fell and Snow's blade struck twice, fast, hitting me soundly across the face, and stabbing painfully into my chest.  I fell backwards and landed hard.

I felt Malice at my side in a moment, her hand on my shoulder.  Snow stalked in, her practice weapon at her side.

“You're getting better, but you're still fighting like you've got two arms.  You can't rely on your left arm to balance you, since it's not there anymore.  Your style is strong, your power is phenomenal, and your speed never fails, but any opponent you face who is worth his weight in dirt will fight to take advantage of your missing arm, and if they can survive long enough, you will give them an opening every time.”  Snow reprimanded.  It was the same lecture I'd gotten many times.

“You don't have to be so mean about it!”  Malice snapped, ever the one to come to my defense, especially if it was against Snow.  “He's trying his hardest.”

“In fact, I do have to be mean.  He'll not learn any other way.  If I don't hit him, someone else will, and they might do it with sharp steel.  You don't want that.  I don't want that, and I think Lowin really doesn't want that.”  Snow retorted.

“Well, you're still mean.”  Malice whispered aggrieved, though much of the fight had left her voice.

“Yes, and now it's your turn.”  Snow pointed her practice weapon at Malice to emphasize the point.  The green-eyed former Knight looked down at me, concern on her face.  I nodded that I was fine, and handed her my wooden weapon.  She took it in her hand, firmed her resolve, and moved away from me and into a ready position across from Snow.

Snow looked much the same age as Malice, like a girl in her late teens with short cropped black hair, none of it long enough to fall in front of her line of sight.  She was dressed in a Lucidil Cloak, a fabric whose color shifted and blended, albeit imperfectly, with the surroundings of the user, constantly changing appearance to make opponents uncertain about the exact motions concealed within.

Snow was unique among the Knights of Ethan, even when their numbers were larger, for she had the arms and legs of a white-furred Fell Beast, a very rare breed.  Those features had won her the name “Snow.”  Outside of the practice field she was an easy person to like.  She was courageous and strong, quick to laugh, and quicker to try and make others laugh.  On the battlefield, though I'd never fought at her side, I'd heard that she was always at the front, and never placed another in a position she would not willing fight in herself.

On the training field, however, she was a devil, and a sharp tongued menace.  She allowed no dissension, and exploited every flaw showed to her.  Her teaching style left many a student with bruises and broken bones, but few of those who trained under her ever made the same mistake twice.  It was easy to remember a mistake when it still hurt for a week after you'd made it.

Their eyes met across the distance between them, Malice's green, and Snow's eyes - once pure and deep black - flashed with a hint of vibrant pink.  It was not something that a casual observer might notice, but one who spent as much time close to her as I had, was bound to take note.  The gradual change in her eyes, and her closeness to me, was something that frightened me to think about.  Malice's eyes had once been black as well, before we'd lain together once, many years before.  They had shone green ever since.

The king, the ruler before Lucidil, had once tried to discover what it was about me that had the power to reawaken the nearly dead eyes of the Knights of Ethan.  They had sent Snow to me as part of that experiment, and she had come away from the encounter unchanged.  Now, years later, after many further intimate nights, I could see the change in her eyes, subtle though it was.  What exactly that meant, I could not fathom, and did not wish to dwell upon.  I was beginning to suspect I was creating some form of magical bond between others through sheer physical intimacy, and that was a difficult concept to wrap my mind around.

Malice attacked first.  As per the rules of training, none of us used our ability to slow down our perception of time and move with super human speed, but even without that aid, the green-eyed girl was fast.  Snow was fast as well, and she fell back, bringing her defenses to bear with only a hair's width of space to spare.  Snow would not be so easily over matched however, and she turned Malice's surprise attack around in a rush.  Malice's attack while fast, and well aimed, had also been sloppily carried out.  Her sword technique was amateurish, and Snow took quick advantage of that, striking through the gaps left open in Malice's form.

To her credit, the red haired and green-eyed girl avoided many of Snow's initial attacks, weaving through the pattern of battle like she was made of smoke.  However, in the end, technique won out over acrobatics.  Snow's wooden blade sounded dully off Malice's ribcage, and the red haired girl fell back in pain.  Snow had not taken so much as a single grazing.

Malice's practice wand bounded across the frozen winter grass and landed several feet from her, dropped with the shock of the hard impact on her chest.  I went to her side, and offered her a hand up.  She knocked it away and stood on her own, an emotional storm cloud hovering over her.

“I should be better than this. . .”  She muttered under her breath, her eyes seeming distant for a moment.

“Your techniques are sloppy, and your attacks lack conviction.  If you want to hit me, you have to really want to hit me.  You can't hesitate.  I want you to practice your forms for the next two hours.  If you're movements are as sloppy tomorrow, I will hit you far harder next time.”  Snow issued her judgment coldly, and with detached severity.  On the training field, she was a different person.

I half-expected for Malice to argue with the white-furred weapon master, but to my surprise, she did not.  She nodded her understanding, dusted herself off, and walked away to recover her practice weapon, without meeting the eyes of either Snow or myself.  I looked at Snow.  She looked angry.

“What's wrong?”  I asked, not sure what it was that was bothering her.  She had won the encounter.

“She's still there.”  Snow said.  I did my best not to look confused.  “I can tell that Malice is still there.  The way she moves . . . the way her attacks roll from one to the next, taking the form of necessity and not pattern.  It's like she is just below the surface.  I can't see it when I talk to her, or with the way she clings to you, but when we face each other sword-to-sword, it's like she is just beyond the range of voice.  I feel like I could almost reach her if. . .”  Her words trailed off.

I considered Snow for a time before speaking again.

“So, there is hope for her yet, then?”  I asked.

Snow shrugged.  “Hope can never be taken away, only lost.”  Snow swung around to me, her face once more neutral.  “Grab a practice sword.  We're not through yet.”

I tried not to sigh heavily as I went to retrieve another weapon.  I supposed that I was lucky that I healed quickly.  Snow rarely broke my bones, a task which was pretty difficult to accomplish, but she quite frequently hit hard enough to leave some terrible bruises.  Of course, bruises healed so fast on my flesh that I could watch them fade before my eyes.  In fact, unless I intentionally tried to look at them, I rarely saw them anymore.  If I hadn't come so close to death, on so many occasions, I might have thought myself immortal.  Of course, my missing left arm served as another constant reminder.  Immortals didn't lose limbs so easily, I thought.

I withdrew a weapon from the bin of practice blades, choosing one far larger than the size of a standard sword.  The weapon was heavy compared to a Knight's weapon, but it felt right in my hand.  I walked back to Snow, getting a feel for the wood wand.  Snow looked at me with narrowed eyes.

“You'll never learn any finesse when fighting with a weapon like that.”  She said.

“Finesse has never really worked for me.  However, I'm stronger and faster than most of my opponents, so maybe it's time to use that to my advantage.”  I replied.

“So you're going to substitute brawn for style?”  Snow did not look impressed.

“Yes.”  I answered coolly.

“Then I shall have to show you why that is a bad choice.”  She brought her weapon up.  The practice wand she used was crafted to mimic the two handed weapons of the Knights of Ethan.  The wooden blade I had selected was a weapon of the front line, a massive sword used less for fighting, and more for skewering charging war sows, or breaking apart an enemy's front line as they tried to plow over the top of you.  The blade alone was about four feet in length, and three quarters the width of man's hand across.  I gripped the handle and held the weapon out before me.  It was light in my massively powerful grip.

“You're not the first to think this was a good idea.”  Snow said to me as she began to circle.  “Yet, do you ever see any of the others carrying such a big weapon?”

“No, but the others were not me.”  I answered.  I didn't honestly know how my experiment would turn out, but I needed to think of something.  I had been trying to adapt to fighting with one arm for a long time, and I had yet to find a successful method.

Snow and I charged at the same moment.  Her blade moved quick, circling in for a decisive kill.  I brought my weapon up before me, turning my side to my enemy as I did so.  My larger blade turned her smaller one aside with ease, but she did not slow her movements.  Her deflected momentum turned around in a flash, and her blade was coming back at me again almost before I could respond.  I called upon my endless strength and forced the massive blade through the air to counter the new incoming attack.  I deflected her again, but the large wooden sword had dragged me off balance, and I had to follow through its momentum with my body to avoid stumbling.  I kept its flat surface between myself and Snow, and she was hard pressed to push her attack through.

The big blade had its disadvantages, but it had its advantages as well.  To get within range of attacking me, my enemy had to cover a good deal of ground directly through the path of my weapon.  If moved quickly enough, the blade was an effective shield.  With my strength, the sword did not slow me down enough to be a hindrance, but with my missing arm, the large blade was even more likely to overbalance me on my right side.  Could I make it work?  I wasn't sure.

Snow stalked in, her blade tip never quite still as she weaved her path towards me.  She sprung, her entire body uncoiled, seeming to double in length as she burst forward with surprising agility.  She was past the point that I could create an easy defense in a flash, and I was forced to risk retreating, or closing and shortening her striking range, rendering her attack less effective.  No, there was another option.  I heaved my giant weapon in close to my body and drew it across and downward, in front of me as fast as I could.  The opening that Snow had been driving through came closed just as she was nearing striking distance, and her blade deflected from the cross piece of my wooden sword and spun wide, only grazing me where it should have struck a powerful blow.

I was not so lucky on her follow up swing.  I was so caught up in the triumph of my deflection, that the next strike hit me hard across the neck, and I fell to the ground, collapsing on my left side that had no way of bracing for the fall.  Snow stood over me, looking down and shaking her head.

“The fight isn't over until one of us is lying on the ground.  Try not to forget that next time.”  She paused for a moment, probably replaying the fight in her head, and looking for what aspects needed criticizing.  “Your big sword makes a great club, if you're into that kind of thing.  Of course, I guess that a brute like you was never really meant to handle a refined weapon.  You may continue to train with your Sow-fork, but I want your active weapon changed to reflect the new direction of your training.  There is no point in learning a new sword on the training field, and not taking what you learned to the battlefield.”

That, I knew, was the closest I was going to get to approval of changing weapons.  Snow had learned her sword skills in multiple places, and believed the skills she'd obtained were an art.  I had been told on many occasions that I did not have the will to break my training and accept the flow of the sword art, but maybe it was only that my art was different from theirs.  I would need to find my own way.

“Well, don't just lay there.  I'm not done humiliating you yet.”  Snow broke my line of thought, tapping her practice sword in one palm.  I stood up and dusted myself off.  It would be a long morning.

I was nearing the end of training, when Ethaniel walked out onto the sparring field.  The tall powerful leader of the Knights of the Ethan was grim faced.  He had been so for years.  He rarely ever smiled, and had few pleasant words to say to anyone.  He had two sets of eyes, two the black of a Knight of Ethan, and two  located just above his brow line that were gray and smoky.  Those gray eyes oozed a perpetual mist of darkness.  His head was crowned with a pair of large spiraling horns, and upon his back were black webbed wings.  They were folded over his shoulders like a cloak.  Beneath his lower set of eyes were two pits, an acquisition whose origin I was not certain of.  They gave him an instinctual ability to perceive fluctuations in hot and cold.  He was the first of the Knights, and had always been considered the greatest of them.  He was my primary advisor, and my only political supporter, though I'd grown to dread speaking with him.  His moods were, anymore, always dark.

I remembered when I had first met him.  He'd had a warm, if not sad, smile that came easily to his face, and a demeanor that welcomed talk, and encouraged a bond whether one meant to establish one or not.  Ethaniel had changed, and I knew not why.  Every time I gazed into the second set of gray eyes upon his forehead, however, I wondered if they had something to do with his descent into bleak drear.     They always seemed to stare outward with malevolent rage, as though watching a world they hated.  Those eyes should have had no bearing on Ethaniel's personality, for all additions to the body of a Knight of Ethan were supposed to be bound by the Knight's mind, but I had learned much about that bond over the years.  I had my own demons dwelling within me.  Did Ethaniel fight such darkness within himself?  Was he winning?

Of course, I knew it was possible that the political situation alone was to blame for his constant dour mood.  Castle life had been difficult since I'd taken the crown.  Ethaniel worked constantly to maintain the peace between myself and the heads of the various loyal clans.  Some few supported me whole heartedly, but for the most part they all would have preferred if another had ascended the throne.  If I hadn't needed the ships to sail and find Kaylien, I would have been happy to let someone else take the position from me.  The grim faced warrior approached me.  He seemed more agitated than usual.

“My King, may I have a word with you.”  His voice was clipped, his eyes, all four of them, glinted with anger, though the gray eyes glinted with more than just general anger.  They gave Ethaniel the ability to see things that were too far away to be seen by the naked eye.  With them, Ethaniel could gaze from one side of our lands to the other, or even further, across the Great Salt Seep that stretched from our shores into forever, as far as most were concerned.  The problem was that the eyes only worked occasionally, and only showed some things.  Ethaniel had worked for years to master the art, but he'd never been able to tame the ability.  It was yet another source of frustration for the Knight.

“Of course.”  I answered promptly.

“In private. . .”  Ethaniel added, gesturing to the side of the practice field.  I nodded my agreement, though I certainly wasn't excited by the prospect of a private chat with my angry advisor.  I turned to Snow, bowed respectfully, and then followed Ethaniel to a more private setting for our conversation.

We stepped into the covered overhang of the double doors which led back into the castle interior.  I could tell I wasn't going to like what Ethaniel had to say before he even opened his mouth.  The set of his jaw and the clip of his voice had given every indication that he was in an especially foul mood.

“Lord Lheec was here today.”  He began, his anger, I could tell, was boiling just below the surface.  How he had learned of the events of the morning I didn't know, but it was obvious that he had.  News traveled fast in a castle.  It was as though everything that happened within the walls echoed through the very stone.  “I don't suppose I need to even ask if what I've heard is true.  You turned down Lheec's offer to wed his youngest daughter, Bellena.”  If it was meant to be a question, it wasn't stated as such.

“Yes," I replied, attempting to keep my calm.  My anger flared inside me though.  That Ethaniel would be angry at me for turning down such a disgusting offer enraged me.  “She was a young girl, too young to marry, and I am not interested in wedding.”

A low growl issued from Ethaniel's throat, and his eyes smoldered.

“Lheec is one of the very, very few people who stand in support of your rule, at least publicly.  Do you have no love of your country?  By insulting Lheec, you put yourself in a very precarious situation.”  Ethaniel's voice was like a whip, tinged with the strange powerful vocal disharmony known amongst the Knights as “the voice.”  Like the arms and legs our kind take from other creatures, some Knights have taken the very voice of another monster, and it is as much a weapon as the claws of the Fell Beast.  Ethaniel normally hid the voice when in public, but agitated, it shined through, lashing at me like a physical attack.  I was, however, no fragile child to be so easily intimidated.

“I serve this country as I see fit, giving what needs be given for the betterment of the people.  Marriage to Lheec's daughter would serve no purpose other than to put me further into Lheec's pocket.  He wants total control of the throne, and Bell was just another tool to get him that.  I would be no man at all if I had taken that offer.  What would you expect of me?”  I responded in my coldest tones.

Ethaniel's gray eyes cut at me, ripping me to pieces with hidden malice, and his black eyes, once tinged with blue, were like two lumps of coal staring out from his tight-jawed face.  I wondered for a moment if he was about to strike me down.

“I would expect you to do your duty and make Lheec's daughter scream like a whore if it's what was necessary to secure a stable political situation.”  His words were bitter and hard, and it seemed for a minute they almost shocked him as much as they did me.  He paused before continuing.  “To serve the country, you must be willing to make sacrifices.  You've insulted Lheec, and there is no doubt that we will pay a heavy toll for that.

“I spoke with my informants today, and they bring me troubling news.”  The leader of the Knight's of Ethan grew calmer as he spoke, but I could tell the anger had not left him, merely been suppressed through some titanic effort.

“Lheec has amassed a sizable force at the borders of his clan's holdings.  My spies tell me, and I have confirmed this with my vision, that there are representatives from all of the ten major clans, and many of the minor ones as well, including some of the rebel clans.  It seems obvious to me that Lheec is not merely bolstering his clan's defenses.”  Ethaniel's voice was almost calm by the time he finished.

I stood in silence.  There was only one reason that Lheec would amass an army, and its presence boded ill for me.  That was troubling.  What was more troubling was that all the clans that had sworn allegiance to me were backing him.  It came as a strong blow to discover that those I thought trusted my judgment, were secretly plotting my downfall.

“I have tried to serve them well.”  I said, suddenly feeling the weight of the world upon my back. “My decisions have always been for the betterment of the country.”

Ethaniel nodded.  “You have.  Every choice you've made has been the right one, in regards to how you're handling the countries business.  However, every choice you've made politically has been the wrong one, and that is what really matters in the end.  Lheec, for what it's worth, apparently was willing to offer you one last chance, in the form of his daughter's hand in marriage.  No doubt when he learns of what has transpired, we will see what the purpose of this army he is building really is.”

“I've done the right thing.”  I muttered in disbelief, unwilling to accept the betrayal that loomed before me.

“In hard times, like we've had while we recover from the Hungering attack, the common people need a villain.  You've allowed yourself to be placed in that role, Lowin.”  He used my name, and not my title, a rarity for Ethaniel.  I looked to his black eyes, and it seemed that there might be compassion somewhere beneath his anger.  His moods seemed to flow as swiftly as a flooded river.

“Lheec gives to the country, for he has nearly endless resources, and he does so as boisterously as possible.  The people know where their relief supplies are coming from, and even they believe his family should sit the throne.  Every problem is laid at your feet, and every success is laid at his.”  Ethaniel added.

“. . . and I would serve the country better by pandering to Lheec's corruption?”  I asked, still trying to stifle my indignation and anger at the situation.

“Yes.  You would serve the people better by doing what was necessary to assure that they received the supplies and resources they need to grow and thrive.  What's more, you could bring about another war, simply because you're not playing the games of state.  Do you think the people need another war?”  Ethaniel's words brought up questions I didn't want to face.

When I had agreed to become the king, I had never anticipated that I would spend so much of my reign fighting to keep the nobles happy.  As a Knight, I had seen the king as an absolute authority, but as king, I saw that, in truth, the position was only as powerful as those who supported it.

“I don't understand how they could even consider the possibility of another war.  We're still recovering from the damages wrought by the Hungering.  What is wrong with Lheec?  Would he really take us into another war simply because he wants more control over the crown?”  I could hear the anger in my words, and knew that my temper must also be obvious to Ethaniel.  I tried to cool the fire burning inside me.

“You are the Maimed King, Lowin.  You are a monster to them, and not even a strong one.  They see you as a warrior past his prime, who preys upon the weak for pleasure, and uses his position to live in comfort while the common man suffers.  Lheec withholds supplies to the people, except for when he's visiting, and has his underlings whisper lies about how he would send more supplies, if only King Noble would allow his caravans into the cities more frequently.”  Ethaniel explained dryly.

“Those are lies!”  I snapped, my anger boiling forth again. From the darkness inside of me, the sounds of teeth gnashing rang through my mind.  “He's . . .”

“Preparing for your fall and you're just making it easier for him.  Why don't you at least take a new arm?  We could have a Fell Beast brought in from the mountains.  If the people saw you whole again they might . . .” Ethaniel began, but we had gone this course many times before.

“No," I cut across his words.  “I won't do that.”  I refused to explain to Ethaniel that I feared that joining my body with another Fell Beast would make it even more difficult for me to keep the darkness at bay within me.  Already my dreams were haunted by the memories of the creature whose limbs I wore, and I did not wish to risk losing anymore of myself to the beast.

“There are other options.”  Ethaniel said, and I could tell by his tone he was growing frustrated with me.  I knew, as well, where his next suggestions were going.  “The Uliona still wish to reestablish their contract.  They see your position as a Knight, as an assurance that their sacrifice would not be abused.”

“I will not do that.”  The anger was bare in my voice with this denial.  My first love, Kyeia, had been a Uliona bound by the contract.  She had given her life so that I might have the eyes which had granted me all my strength and abilities.  I had loved her, and in the end her death had destroyed some part of me.  The only thing that remained of Kye was her eyes, and our daughter, born of her dying mother, who was lost to the Hungering, somewhere far across the sea.

“I will not allow others to die so that we can build a new army.”  I growled the words as I spoke them.

“The people need the Knights, Lowin.  They need to feel that their king, and his military force, can provide them with safety in even the most dangerous of times.  The Uliona see this as well.  That is why they are offering the contract again.  Don't let your personal feelings get in the way of making a choice that would be best for the people.  The Uliona want our protection.”  Ethaniel pressed.

“. . . and I've offered it to them.”  I shot back.  “The kingdom of men shall be at their beck and call if they need assistance.  We don't need the contract of bonding to assure that.”

Ethaniel continued to push, unwilling to give in.  “You're ignoring the greater problem.  You've made the creation of the Black Patch Brigade illegal, and you refuse to allow the creation of more Knights of Ethan.  The kingdom of man's forces are already weakened, and you're not allowing us to grow any stronger.  You steadfastly refuse to allow the people that which would make them feel secure again.  Among all the choices you've made, this is the one that they see as most unjust.  You're denying them their heroes.”

“I'm denying them more monsters, Ethaniel.  You know what we are, or have you lost the last remnants of your humanity?  Creatures such as we should not exist.  We have too much power.  The people fear us.”  I'd played this argument over and over again in my mind.  Every time I came to the same conclusion.  The Knights of Ethan, while a valuable military asset, were too powerful to be safe.  One corrupt leader could make of them a terrible weapon.  One man like Lucidil could tear the world apart to reach his ends.

The first Knight's eyes flared with murderous rage, but his hand did not so much as twitch towards his weapon.  I was not wearing my sword, and I felt suddenly vulnerable without it.

“The people fear us, but they love us as well.  They feel better knowing that we exist, but if you will not be compelled by sense for their good, do it for your own.  If you accept the Uliona contract, you could take a second binding, and your arm would . . .” The Knight of four eyes began, but I had to stop him.

“What do you mean by, 'take a second binding?'  That's not even possible.”  I had never heard of such a thing.

Ethaniel shook his head.  “You're wrong.  We've known it was possible for some time, but the original contract forbade such a practice.  We could make an exception this time.  It would grant you almost twice as much power as you already have, and your body would heal.  With a revitalized, strong, king before them, the people would have to accept you.”

I took a step back, shock rippling through me.  “But the eyes. . .”

“. . . are only needed for the first binding.  Once a candidate is found who is compatible for binding, it is quite likely they could be bound again.  The eyes would not need to be transferred.  You already have one set of Uliona eyes, and they would facilitate the necessary channeling of power.  You would only need to take the crystal and seal the binding, and your power would increase beyond our understanding.”  Ethaniel finished for me.  I was horrified.

“No.  I will never do that.  I could never take another life for myself.  That is far and away the most terrible suggestion you've ever come to me with.”  I told Ethaniel, who stood looking at me, now with an expression of barely restrained contempt on his features.

“What will you have us do when Lheec's men are pounding upon our gate, demanding entrance?”  Ethaniel's voice was razor edged, heavy with “the voice.”

I turned my back on the other Knight and began to walk away from him, back towards the courtyard.  “I will do what has to be done when, and if, that time comes.  We'll not speak of this again, Ethaniel, not ever.”  I walked out into the chill, looking for Malice, who I knew would still be hard at work with her forms.  I half expected for Ethaniel to come lunging after me, his sword raised to strike me down, such was the rage I felt emanating from him.  He did not come, though, and I was thankful for that.  He would have killed me.

I found Snow and Malice together, Snow watching silently over Malice as the green-eyed girl repeated the forms of sword combat, a mix of three different styles taught to her by Snow.  She moved slowly, making each motion as controlled and perfect as possible.  Slowed down, and concentrating fully on the task at hand, her form seemed flawless.  For a moment I could imagine that Malice was her old self once more.  She paid no attention to me as I drew near.  Snow, however, turned to greet me.  We walked a few paces away from our concentrating friend, where we could talk privately.

“What was that about?”  Snow queried softly, nodding her head in the direction from which I'd just come.  I looked and saw that Ethaniel had gone.

“My advisor was informing me of my options in our current tense political situation.”  I chose my words carefully, unwilling to discuss the exact nature of our conversation.  I wasn't certain whether I was ashamed of what I'd said, or if I was ashamed on Ethaniel's behalf, for what he had suggested.  Either way, I did not wish to speak of it any longer.

Snow nodded.  “They say you've lost your edge, that you're not the same man who slew the black drakes during the war.  I hear few kind things.”

“I know.”  I said, for I was well aware of the rumors and speculation that surrounded me.  “A king of war was raised to the throne, and so far that king has done nothing but bring misery to the people.  I'm cursed with exceptional hearing.”

“What will you do?”  Snow asked.

I thought for a moment, my mind spinning in circles.  What could I do to recover a reputation that was already so sullied?  Though I had done nothing wrong, I had also not taken the proper steps to put myself in the people's good graces.

“I could marry Lheec's daughter.  That would make Ethaniel happy, and make Lheec happy.”  I said tartly.

“Wennia is a beautiful girl.  She's also considered quite intelligent, with a bright and business capable mind.”  Snow offered, referring to Lheec's older daughter.  “Though I believe she's engaged already.”

I shook my head.  “Not that daughter.  Lheec wants me to marry his other daughter, Bellena.”

Snow looked shocked.  “Little Bell?  She's not even a woman yet, is she?”

“Apparently woman enough for Lheec, but not so for me.  I rejected the offer.”  I answered stoically.

“. . . and you would have rejected the offer if it was for Wennia as well.”  My intelligent sword master said, a knowing smile on her lips.  We spoke in low voices so that Malice would not hear us.

“I would have.”  I answered truthfully.

“Do you really believe that she will recover?”  Snow said, her eyes wandering to the girl who moved like a dancer across the stage, following in her blade's wake.

“Yes.”  I needed not embellish my reply.  That one word summed up all that I would say on the matter.

Snow's gaze turned back to me.  “There are others who would make you feel like a whole man again, Noble.  If not Bellena, then what about me?  Certainly I am not such a bad person that you could never learn to love me?  I like you more than any other man I've been with.  You're good on a level that others will always strive to approach.  So, what of me?”

I looked at Snow, her eyes, the hint of barest pink shinning through the black, alive and bright as she spoke, but though I saw a friend in her, I knew I felt no love.  I had tried to find it there before, but in Snow it was not to be found.

“You are among the greatest of people Snow, and to me you are a friend beyond compare.  I would fight to the death for your safety, and stand beside you in any circumstance, but we are what we are.  I love Malice, and I can't change that.”  They were difficult words to speak, because I did not wish to insult Snow.

She nodded, a smile on her lips.  She may have been sad, but I knew her well enough to believe that her smile was honest.

“I knew you would say that.  That is part of what makes me like you so much; the way you still stand beside Malice when everyone else says you should quit; the way you still fight to save your daughter, when no one else remembers her face.  You are just so damn noble.”  She said.

I shook my head, uncomfortable, and undeserving of her kind words.  I was not a good person, and certainly not a noble one.  Lucidil had given me the name Noble, and I had always believed it was a joke on his part.

“If it would make you feel better, I'll not pay you any more visits in the night.”  I said, for I saw those nightly visitations as selfish. I knew we both enjoyed the physical act, but I did not know if Snow took ought else away from the encounters.  For me, they quieted my inner demon for while, but was I leading Snow to feel that she might someday get something from me that I could not give her?  I did not wish to hurt my friend.

“Oh no, that certainly would not make me feel any better.”  She said, a light laugh in her voice.  “You may pay a visit to me on any night you wish.  A warm full bed is better than a cold empty one on any night, and you are such a considerate lover.”

We both turned our eyes back to Malice.  I knew it was almost time to stop her.  If I did not, she would keep going until she was tired, and whether she knew it or not, she had a Knight's energy to draw upon.  If properly applied, she could go on swinging her sword for days.

I stepped away from Snow, and moved towards the green-eyed girl, the woman who wasn't.  Her face was set in determination, her features grim as she strove to be perfect with every swing.  She looked like the old Malice, and that gave me some hope for the future.

“Training is finished for the day.”  I called, making my voice loud enough to shake her from her concentration.  Her sword point fell and she looked at me, for a time it seemed she wasn't sure where she was, and then she was back.  Her features did not brighten, but I could see the light flicker back on inside her, as though she had just returned from someplace else.

“Alright.”  She answered, her tone sad.  She walked off to return her weapon.  Something about the morning's training had affected her.  I found myself both troubled, and encouraged.  Was it possible that she was recovering something of what she'd lost?

I turned and followed after Malice.  Snow stopped me on my way by.

“I'll see you tomorrow morning, if not earlier. . .”  She let the invitation hang in the air.  I smiled, but did not give her an indication either way.  I continued after Malice, who was already waiting by the door that lead back into the castle proper.  She was sullen and quiet.  I would need to talk to her later in the day.  For the time being, I had to report to court, to hear the day's cases that could not be settled by the lower courts.  It was not a portion of the day I looked forward to, but it was business that must be done.  I placed a hand on Malice's shoulder, and though she did not look up at me, she reached up and squeezed it in one of hers before we opened the door and returned to the relative warmth of the castle interior.

The bed was soft beneath me, and Malice was warm at my side, her slender and shapely form pressed against me with a welcoming softness I was hard pressed to ignore.  She had fallen asleep quickly, as she usually did, and I lay awake, waiting, and wondering whether or not I should move myself away from her.  In the end, it was for her sake that I did not.  If I left again, she would know, and I would have let her down once more.  I would stay the night, and deal with the demons that plagued my mind.  I closed my eyes, and forced myself to relax, forced the visions of a naked, welcoming Malice from my mind.  It was difficult, but my lusts fled, and eventually sleep took me.  I dreamed.

The world grew brighter around me, and I found myself standing in an ancient wood.  The trees all about me were burned off, charred and blackened, and the ground was littered with a heavy coat of ash, smothering out any life that might have existed on the forest floor.  I spun around, and at my back I saw a lake, the water black from soot, the fish all floating dead upon the surface.  I turned slowly, allowing myself to fully take in my surroundings.  Everything was burned.  Even the sky was gray, as though the smoke had filled the clouds, and clogged them with foul tears.  So full were they with sadness, it began to rain.

I held out my hands, and indeed I had two hands again.  It seemed strange to see two arms stretched out before me.  I closed the fingers of my left hand, and opened them again, marveling at how they responded to my call.  I could feel the stretch and pull of the muscles beneath the flesh, and the way the light breeze in the air stirred the fur on arm.  The rain struck my skin.  It was cold, and left a black streak of soot everywhere it landed.  A melody wafted through the air, sad and distant.

I turned my head to capture the strange song, my ears focusing on the source somewhere far within the woods.  I began to walk towards it, though I knew not why.  I felt compelled by the bitterness of the song.  There was a longing in its notes, a yearning for something lost that tugged at the very core of my being.  I abandoned my slow pace and began to run, letting the skeletal remains of trees fall away behind me like a vast graveyard of the recently dead.  The rain drew trails of bright light through the sky on its decent, as my vision tracked every passing drop of water, obscuring the path ahead of me.  Despite the hazard of obscured vision, I did not want to slow down.

I found myself faced with the realization that I knew exactly where I was going, for I had traveled those woods before.  They had been different with every visit, but I had a sense of what waited ahead of me.  My foreboding grew with every step.  I crested a low hill, and waiting before me, as I had anticipated before even seeing it, was a small, rustic cabin.  The cabin was little more than a burnt out husk, surprisingly intact for a building that was entirely blackened from fire damage.  A figure stood outside the building, obscured partially by the streaking rain.

I saw enough to recognize the beast.  It had the upper torso of a bear, and the lower half of a human man.  Its fur looked seared, its flesh badly burned.  As it noticed my approach, it walked inside of the cabin.  The music drew me in closer.  As the cabin grew nearer, I began to realize that the music was not coming from inside of it, but from somewhere beyond it.  Still, I moved towards that burned out building.  My business, I knew, was within its walls.  I ignored the call of the song, at least for a time.

It was only as I moved on to the small path, well worn with use, that ran to the front steps of the cabin, that I realized that the building before me was the same one that I had built with my own two hands and the edge of my sword, deep in the woods beyond the lands of men.  It was the cabin I had lived in with Malice, Kay, and Wisp.  Had my dream cabin always been the same as the cabin I'd built?  I rarely forgot details, but here was one that seemed obscured.  However, it felt to me as though it always had been the same cabin, and that I had just never noticed it before.  I drew nearer the entrance, fearing what lay within, but not wanting to avoid the confrontation I knew awaited me.

No more was I the frightened child who wanted to run from my fears.  I was afraid, but I was ready to face whatever might stand before me.  I mounted the two steps and crossed the small porch before reaching the open door of the cabin.  Inside waited a darkness so pure that even my magical eyes could make no sense of the void.  I reached for my sword, out of habit, and found that it was not there.  I cursed my dream for leaving me unprepared, but did not let my lack of weapon slow me down.  I crossed the threshold.

As I passed beneath the frame of the door to the house that had been a place of relative happiness, I was assailed by memories.  I saw, in a bright flash, visions of Kay running through the rooms, chased by a gruff but smiling Malice.  I saw an image of Wisp, her hair bedraggled from Kay playing with it, smiling downward.  I saw myself, sitting next to Malice, as we watched Wisp carrying Kay on her back, the little girl holding on to Wisp's horns, a gleam of glee in her eyes.  Those memories were gone in a second, and then I was merely wrapped in a near total darkness, emptiness taking the place left by the warm visions of better times.

“Welcome home.”  A voice growled from a dark corner.  I centered my eyes on the corner, but I could make out little more than a vague, hulking shape.  The music still beckoned from somewhere outside, tempting me to leave the cabin and wander on.

“This place is haunted.”  I told the creature in the darkness.  I did not doubt it was the bear-thing, and when I least expected it, it would try to kill me.  I readied myself for such an attack.  The creature was moving rhythmically in the darkness, though I could not tell what it was doing.  My eyes seemed unable to track the motion.

“No, not this place. . .”  It answered.  “You, you are haunted.”

I nodded my answer.  It was right.  I carried the ghosts of the past with me.  Lightning flashed outside, and for just a moment light spilled across the room, streaming through holes in the ceiling.  Strangely no water fell through these openings.  I caught a partial glimpse of the thing in the corner, just the top half of it.  It was not the bear-man.

A throaty, growling chuckle issued from it, though it silenced quickly and again only the sound of the rain and the strange melody filled the darkness, accompanied by the rhythmic motion of the creature in the corner.  It was a Fell Beast.  More, it was the Fell Beast that I had killed.  I had seen the red tips of its ears, those same red caps that I now wore.  I felt ill at ease.

“It's calling to us.”  The creature tore at the words, as though it hated to speak the language of man.  “It wants us to come and play its game.  It's hungry.  More hungry than you or I.”

“What is that music?”  I asked the creature, for it seemed to know more than I did, and though I was loathe to talk to it, I needed answers.  I always needed answers.

“Death, but we need not fear it.  Even death may die.  We will find it, and we will conquer it, you and I.”  It replied.  “We are strong together.  We are unstoppable.”

“You are dangerous.”  I told the black beast in the corner.

“We are dangerous.  Embrace me, man, embrace my power and we would make them all cower before us.  We would feast upon the flesh of our enemies, and use their bones as our hunting paths!  Embrace me, and let us eat, hunt, and breed.”  It answered, and I could hear the lust for power and pleasure filling its voice.  I could see the images it bore in its mind, visions of murder, rape, and gorging on death.  Something else exuded from it, some sense of terrible satisfaction.

“I will not give you what you want.”  I told the black thing, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

It barked with terrible laughter. “. . . but we want the same thing, Lowin Fenly.  We want the same thing.”

A candle lit in the corner of the room opposite the dark form, and a second later another candle lit, as if by magic, followed by three more.  Suddenly the room was bathed in light, and there before me I saw the Fell Beast in all its terrible glory, red banded wrists, and red tipped ears.  Its massive jaws were lined with row after row of terrible teeth.

In the new light, I was able to see the rest of the scene that had been hidden up until that point.  Malice lay upon the floor, her face locked in a grimace of horror and pain, tears running silently down her face, as the Fell Beast loomed over her, its massive body pinning her to the ground, it's animal loins pressed between her legs, thrusting violently into her.

“No!”  I screamed.  I charged the beast, and it stood up from its prey, casting Malice aside like a broken play thing to dash against the wall.  The creature wore its foul lust like a trophy, a dripping and pulsating sign of its victory.  Rage filled me, and I willed my claws sharper.  The beast charged me, and I found myself locked, claw to claw, with the demon.

“You want it too.”  The creature growled.  “She is delicious, her body is supple and. . .”

“Be quiet!”  I screamed and pressed back harder, trying desperately to kill the creature, but it matched me stride for stride.  I could not get an upper hand.  I fought with its fury, and it fought with my technique.  I couldn't tell where it stopped and I began.  I was horrified.

Suddenly, and alarmingly, the music stopped, and as one, both the Fell Beast and I froze in place, claws wrapped about one another's throat, powerful, sharp claws poised to kill and rend.  I still tried to struggle, and I could see behind the creature's eyes that it too was trying to fight, but we could not move.  The beast's face went slack and it looked towards the door.

“There is someone here . . . wake up.”  It snapped, and then the dream melted away from me.   As it faded, I saw the broken form of Malice lying upon the ground, far too still.

I awoke in a flurry of violence.  Malice screamed, awakened by my sudden thrashing, but I was still moving on instinct.  I sprang from the linens and barreled into a figure in the dark, standing poised above the bed, a sword raised.  I lashed out with my right claws and felt flesh, bone, and sinew part easily.  Banging sounded outside my door.  Five more dark figures leapt towards me, weapons at the ready.  The world slowed around me as I forced myself faster and faster.

I could see the men clearly in the vortex of speed I'd created.  Four of those remaining were dressed as guardsmen, wearing the colors of the kingdom.  They were humans, gruff faced and handling their weapons with the finesse of trained killers.  The fifth figure was the most startling.  It came at me through the slowed world with agility, and deadly intent, dressed in a cloak of Lucidil fabric.  I recognized that fifth figure's face immediately.  Silent.  He had vanished after I took the crown, along with two other Knights of Ethan, leaving our numbers at a scant eleven, since Lucidil's death.

The enemy fell upon me, the humans coming within range before Silent could.  To them I dealt out death, ripping through their fragile forms with almost no resistance.  From one of the falling men, I stole a sword.  The blade wasn't weighted well for my preferred fighting style, but it would be enough.  I charged to meet Silent, forcing my body to propel me even faster.  My heart pounded upon the inside of my ribs like a drum beat to which I wove a dance of murder.  My blade snaked out, and Silent threw himself backwards in the nick of time, barely avoiding the blow that I had intentionally aimed wide, so that if it struck, it would only injure.  I could have killed him easily enough, but I still remembered that he had been a friend once.  Even though he'd betrayed me before, I still stayed my blade.

A glint of motion behind me caught my attention, and I spun around just in time to see two other Knights of Ethan, Swift and Merciless, two I knew only as the traitors who had left with Silent after Lucidil's fall, rushing towards Malice where she lay curled up in the corner.  I traced the line from them to the window, and knew how they had gotten into my room without alerting the guards.  It was a long climb, but not an impossible one, especially for a former Knight.

I broke from my fight with Silent and dived back across the room.  Swift was reaching for Malice, and I forced myself even faster, a roar escaping my throat as I charged.  The two Knights looked up, shock evident in their faces.  They were not expecting me, and certainly couldn't hope to get their defenses up in time.

Behind me, even in the density of slowed time, I could hear the splinter of wood as my door caved in.  I didn't know who was entering, but I hoped that it was my guards.  Silent was chasing after me, but he was not as fast as I.  My borrowed blade licked out and caught Swift at the elbow of his outstretched arm.  The limb fell away easily, separated in an instant by the sharp blade I wielded, and he jumped back, clutching at the injury.   I did not slow my advance.  I skidded across the stone floor of my chamber, coming to a rest between the enemy and Malice, interposing my body in front of their target.  Why did they want Malice?

They will take her and use her for their pleasures.  The fell beast growled inside of me.  I heard a snarl escape my lips.  She is mine.  The beast's voice snapped venomously.

“Mine.”  I whispered, an echo of the monster's words, in a voice barely recognizable as my own.  Rage boiled from within me, radiating out from my being.  Swift was retreating, trying to exit through the window, and Merciless had gone pale, holding his sword out before him as he slowly backed towards the exit.  Silent, however, was not retreating.  He charged in from my side, his blade leading the way.  My heart beat like a drum, and I was moving again.  Silent seemed to be crawling through the air, his killing intent obvious on his face.  My blade snaked down the side of his own, knocking it wide, even as it cut a deep line down the inside of his arm and slid effortlessly into base of his shoulder, splintering bone, and parting muscle as it tore through his body like paper.  His blade dropped to the ground.  The threat was not ended, however.  Seeing me engaged, Merciless was closing the distance that had been between us.  I felt his blade point touch my back before I realized that I had left my flank unwatched. I spun and jumped with all the speed I could muster.  Instead of piercing my heart his blade passed through my lower chest, below my left lung, and wedged into my rib cage.

My vision blurred with a dominating fury.  I released my sword, leaving it in Silent's shoulder, and lashed out with my claws.  My hand impacted Merciless's face like an axe striking over ripe fruit.  The impact blew his head to pieces, and his body slumped to the ground in a mess of blood.

The world lurched back into regular speed even as my guards, having broken down the door, finally reached Silent.  Swift was out the window, climbing down a rope tied there.  I didn't bother with him.  The two black cloaks that had been guarding my room picked up Silent roughly, for he had slumped to the ground on his knees.  My sword still hung from his body.

I took a moment to check on Malice, who sat huddled in the corner sobbing, making sure she was uninjured, before I walked back over to Silent.

“Why, Silent?”  I demanded of him, my voice still more the Fell Beast's than my own.  “When you left, did I ever send anyone after you?  Did I ever do anything that you should hate me so deeply?”

Silent looked at me incredulously, as though I were out of my mind.

“First you ruined my dreams and killed the only man with a vision that could bring peace, and then when I left you behind, you had me hunted endlessly.  I have been dodging your assassins for years.”  The once-Knight spat at my feet.  “Yet you would stand here before me and lie about it.”

“I never sent anyone after you.”  I said firmly, my eyes locked on his.

Silent just laughed.  “Then you have less control of this country than my resources have led me to believe.”

His words cut to the heart of the matter.  Obviously someone had indeed been hunting Silent.  I could see the feral look in his eyes, and could feel the weight of truth in his words.  The country was out of control, and I was unable to rein it in.  Though I was the king, I was merely another man along for the ride.

“My King, you are injured.”  One of my Black Patch Brigade guards said.  I looked at him, for a moment not certain what he meant, and then I looked down.  A sword point still protruded from my flesh, the hilt, I knew, was sprouting from my back.

“A moment. . .”  I told the black cloak.  The creature nodded, and resumed his solemn duty of holding the prisoner.

“Who sent you?  Under whose orders did you come to kill me?”  I asked, forcing myself as calm as possible.  My voice, I noticed, had returned to normal.

“I was approached by a beggar in a bar.  He handed me my orders, and I took them.  I do not know who wanted the job done, but the task was not to kill you.  We were supposed to kidnap the girl, and kill you only if the opportunity presented itself.  We were informed that you left the room almost every night by this time.  We didn't expect you to be here.”  Silent stated simply.

My anger flared once more.  What would anyone want with Malice?  That they threatened my life I did not care, but that Malice was being put in danger was something I could not abide.

“. . . and you do not know who would want such a service?  Where were you to take Malice after you'd abducted her?”  I asked once more, my voice just shy of the growl of the beast.

Silent chuckled weakly.  He was losing blood, and he was not as powerful a healer as was I.  “You have enemies everywhere, and friends almost nowhere.  Any number of men are awaiting your downfall.  As for where we were to take the girl, I'll die before I tell you that.”

“I see.”  I replied coldly.  I could have had him tortured, and the truth might have come from him, or he might just lie.  I could never be certain, and the time it might take to get anything from him would likely render the information useless.

“Let him go.”  I said finally.

The guards did not give any outward sign of surprise, but Silent's face wore shock prominently.

“Are you going to kill me yourself, then?”  He asked.

I stepped into the speed, moving as fast as my injured body would permit.  I shot forward, grabbed the hilt of my borrowed sword, and pulled it from his shoulder, and then let the world resume its normal pace around me.

Silent gasped in pain, staggered forward a little, but did not fall.  He looked at me as though I were the last thing he might see.  There was fear in his eyes, and in his posture, but he did not speak out.  It wasn't pride or strength that stilled his tongue.  He held only fear.  It was hate that kept him from telling me what I wanted to know.  Fear and hate.  The Silent I had known was truly dead.

“You can go.  Follow Swift.  Leave this city, and don't come back.  From here out, you will be on a kill-on-sight order within the capital.  I shall try to find out who is sending assassins after you, and see that it stops.  I believe I know who to talk to about that.”  It did not take a great leap of logic to guess that Ethaniel had acted to stifle a possible traitor.  I would need to have words with him on the matter.  I did not savor the prospect.

“I'll probably try to kill you again.”  Silent muttered quietly.

“Next time we meet, I'm going to end your life, Silent.”  I told him.  “Not because you are a threat to me, but because you are a threat to those around me.  This time I give you your life because you were once my only friend, but I'll never show you such a kindness again.”  The words were cold, and I delivered them with an impassiveness I did not feel.  Inside I was a storm of emotional distress, somewhere between grief at the final loss of a once trusted companion, and rage at that past companions attempted abduction of Malice.  Had I not been there. . . It didn't help to dwell upon it.

“Leave.”  I snapped, and Silent jumped and ran for the window, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

After he was out of the window, I walked to it and watched him descend to the ground.  Once he reached the ground, I unlatched his roped from the cross beam it had been lassoed to, and drew it up, tossing it onto the floor.  Malice had stopped crying, and was now on the bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.  She was watching me with concern and confusion on her face.  I approached the two black cloaks who still stood, awaiting new orders.

I turned to the nearest.  “Draw this sword from my back.”  I ordered him.  He took a step forward, and then stopped.  A look of mixed emotions crossed his face.

“I may hold no sword that draws the blood of my king.”  He intoned before stepping back, and looking at me blankly.

I sighed heavily.  I was beginning to feel tired.  My injury was wearing on me as my body tried to heal it, and was unable to do so.  Malice was getting out of bed, walking toward me.  She seemed hesitant, but there was determination on her face.

“I can do it.”  She said.  I considered her for a moment.  She had the strength, and the skill with arms to pull it out without causing any more damage, so long as she applied them.

“It needs to be pulled straight out, preferably as fast as possible.”  I told her.

She nodded and circled around behind me.  I could see that she was nervous.  In her mind, she had never killed an enemy, and never dealt with such a bloody situation.

“Just keep your hands steady, relax, and draw the blade straight back.”  I told her calmly, keeping my voice as soothing as possible.  I felt the pressure on the blade as she took the hilt in her hand.  She moved fast, drawing the blade out with such precision that I barely felt the motion. I sighed in relief as I heard the sword clatter to the ground.  Malice was at my side in a moment.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?”  She asked concernedly.

“No, I feel much better now.”  I replied, and the words were true enough.  My body was already working on repairing the terrible wound.  I could feel the burning.  “Let us find another room to rest in for the night.”

“Guards," I called the black cloaks.  They snapped to attention.  “I want this room cleaned, the bodies disposed of.  Inform Ethaniel of the events that transpired.  Send a steward to prepare a new room for me to use in the future.  For tonight, I will be sleeping in the guest room next door.  Post a guard on the ground floor below the window from here on out.  No more disturbances tonight.”

The orders given, I took Malice and we left for the guest room.  I was tired, and growing more so by the minute.  Healing was hard work.  We entered the small adjacent chamber and made our way to the bed.  I was leaning heavily upon Malice by that point, though she seemed not to mind.  I sat down on the edge of the feather mattress heavily, and was about to fall backwards when Malice stopped me.

“At least take off your bloody clothes.”  She said.  “I know it's late but. . .”  I could see how uncomfortable my bloodied, disheveled state made her.

I nodded.  She was right.  I shouldn't lay in bed covered in blood.  I drew off my shirt, though I left my pants on.  There was little to no blood on them, and I was not inclined to undress myself that much in Malice's presence.  My wounds had closed, though they were still healing both outside and in.  The line where the sword had broken my flesh was brilliant red, and stung fiercely.  I used my shirt to clean the blood and mess from my fur.  Malice had to help me.  She brought in a pitcher of water from the draw-tap in the guest rooms bath facility, and helped me get rid of the last of the mess.  Cleaned, I tossed my shirt on the floor and laid back in bed. Malice curled up at my side, drawing the blankets up over us both.

“I thought we were going to die.”  She said softly.

“We can't die yet.  There is too much we need to get done.”  I answered, pulling her close to me with my one good arm before sleep swept me away.  I did not dream.

I woke long before the dawn, but I did not leave the bed immediately.  Instead, I waited for Malice to wake up as well.  How she slept so long every night, I did not know.  As a Knight, with the changes to my body, I needed only a few hours of sleep every week when not injured or fighting constantly, and I could survive on less.  Injuries, or long stretches of pushing my limits, could change the needs of my body, but on any average day, sleep was not essential.  Even if I forced myself to rest, I rarely slept an entire night.  Malice should have been the same.

I lay on my back, in the exact position I'd fallen asleep, but Malice had rolled onto her side.  I could feel her back against me, rising and falling with every breath she took.  As she inhaled, her skin, even through her nightgown, felt like fire against my own.  I resisted the desire to move closer to her.  I waited in the silent darkness, my thoughts drifting to the troubles of the kingdom.

The sun eventually began to stream through the window of the room, brightening the interior of the guest chamber.  I felt my bed companion stir, and then she jumped, as though she had been startled.  Her arms went out wide, and she looked frightened until she turned over and her arm struck me in the chest.  She spun the rest of the way in bed, and though she still looked sleepy, she wore a smile on her face.

“You stayed the entire night.”  She announced, her eyes sleepy, but a brilliant, almost jewel-like, green in the early morning light.

“I thought you could use the company.”  I answered

Her smile brightened.  “Thank you.”  She said, and then her arms were around me, her chest pressed against me, and we were embracing.  Desire welled up in me anew.

Finally we parted, and I found that it took a sizable amount of willpower to force myself to leave the bed.  I needed to get my mind focused on the day's tasks.  After the previous night's events, I knew that I would need to speak to Ethaniel.  He would doubtless have a few things to say, and I had a few of my own to bring up.  Most pointedly, I wanted to know why Ethaniel had sent assassins after Silent without verifying such an order with me.  He had overstepped his bounds.  How many other times had he done so?

I sent one of the black cloaks guarding the door for the steward, who I had bring a fresh set of clothes for Malice and me.  We took turns in the bath room, changing, and preparing ourselves for the day.  I dressed in the clothing popular amongst the Knights of Ethan.  My shirt was dark gray, almost black, with no sleeves to impede the movement of my Fell Beast arms, or arm, in my case.  The pants were black, loose fitting, and ended just below the knee.  These allowed for my legs to move freely at very high speeds, a necessity for a fighter such as myself.  Besides, Fell Beast legs did not afford the fit of a standard pair of pants.  Above it all I wore a cloak.  When I was just a Knight of Ethan, I generally wore one of the shifting garments made from Lucidil fabric, but as the king, I was generally given a cloak of vivid blue to adorn myself in.  I preferred the shifting cloak, but the castle staff preferred me to have on an outfit which would allow them to identify me quickly.  I was told that this was so that I could be paid “proper respect” by all who saw me, but I felt that it was much more likely that my bright cloak was a warning to keep silent, and keep distance.  As a Knight people feared to speak to me, as a king, people rarely wanted to speak to me, unless it was to air a grievance, or request a gift.

Laouna was adorned in a simple sun dress of dark green.  It was longer than the summer outfit she'd gotten herself the day before, and was far more adept at hiding her more feminine points, but it was still a lovely outfit on her.  The green, a color that matched her eyes exceedingly well, also served to highlight her vivid, red hair and pale skin.  Dressed as a warrior, Malice had always been beautiful, but dangerous, a goddess of war.  Adorned as any other girl might be, she somehow transcended the mundane, and still seemed every bit the goddess.  Perhaps though, she seemed more a deity of innocence than ought else.  I loved her no less for her loss, but I missed the master of blades who I'd fallen in love with originally.

Clothed and ready for the day, we set out for the kitchen.  Malice ate twice a day, and though I generally ate less frequently, the wear of the night before had left me with a fierce hunger.  My wound was still healing, though I knew on the outside it would appear to be completely repaired.  Inside I could still feel the burn of muscle and flesh mending, accompanied by a sharp pain with every step I took, a pain that reminded me all was not yet well.  Even amongst the Knights I was a miraculous healer, but my body could only do so much.  I was lucky that no vital organs had been pierced.  Those were always much more difficult to heal, since to heal properly, those pierced organs needed to be working.  I had survived many blows that should have permanently injured, or killed me.

After eating, we made our way to my public study, where I would take care of the early business of the day, and work on my confounding pile of official documents.  Of course, I knew that morning would not be one of my most productive before I even reached the study.  I would have the business of the night before to handle.  The door stood open when I reached the office.

My two guards stood outside the door, so I knew it was safe to enter.

“Good morning, Liet.”  I said to my old friend-turned black cloak, before crossing the threshold.  I knew I would not have the opportunity to speak with him privately, but I would not go a morning without acknowledging him.  Liet looked at me with violent eyes, but did not respond.  I sighed and passed him.

Ethaniel was waiting for me inside the room.  He wore a dour expression on his face.  He was as bleak and foreboding as ever.  He was, perhaps, less furious than he had been the last time I spoke with him.  For that, at least, I was thankful.  The old Knight made it difficult to tell his exact emotional state most of the time.  Though it seemed “angry” would generally sum up his mood at any given moment.

“Ethaniel, good morning.”  I greeted him as I made my way around him, and to my desk.

“King Noble," Ethaniel clipped curtly, offering the barest of bows.  It was not to show a lack of respect, I knew, but simply because Ethaniel did not care for custom.

“I guess you're here to discuss the events of last night.”  I said.

“Yes, but first we should discuss the events from last night of which you were not a part.”  Ethaniel answered cryptically.  I raised an eyebrow.

Malice took a seat in one of the spare chairs of the study, and occupied herself with flipping through the books that lined the walls.  She was not particularly interested in the affairs of state.  It was just as well.

“So, what happened that I am unaware of?  Were there other attacks in the city?”  I asked, my concern growing as my mind churned through the possibilities.

“No, there were no other attacks.  However, last night, about two hours before the assassination attempt in your room, Lord Lheec, his daughter, all of their retainers, and all of the Lheec's men in the city, including our financial contacts, and trading contacts, left via a long caravan.”  Ethaniel's eyes, all four of them, rested heavily upon me.

“Prior to leaving,” He went on.  “They withdrew all owed funds from the treasury.  The move to leave was quick, and well orchestrated.  No one is left, and not a sliver of Lheec's gold, not a bale of hay of his resources, remains in this city.”

I learned forward.  Lheec, it seemed, had made his final decision regarding his intentions for my reign as king.  He would not withdraw all of his aid, and all of his money, unless he intended to launch an attack.  He was gathering his resources to prevent losses.

“How did he learn of my rejection of his daughter so quickly?”  I asked, angry at the way information seemed to flow through our walls with such ease.

“Lheec probably has more informants inside the castle than I do, Lowin.”  Ethaniel dropped the formalities.

“The men last night didn't come to assassinate me directly.  They came to take Malice.”  I told Ethaniel.

The old Knight nodded.  “That makes sense.  Lheec could have used her to gain leverage on you, to get you to surrender without the need to engage in a lengthy war.  It was a good idea.”

I shot Ethaniel a cold stare.  “Kidnapping and murder are never good ideas, Ethaniel.  How long have you been playing the political game that you no longer know that?”

“Whether you like it or not, Lheec is going to try and take the throne.  At least he put forth the effort to try and do it as bloodlessly as possible.  Of course, I don't doubt he would have demanded your head in exchange for hers.  It's much easier to place a new king on the throne, when the old one is dead.”  My advisor replied coldly.

“What do you suggest we do?”  I offered the question in a sigh of defeat, slumping heavily back in my chair.  I could tell that Ethaniel had something in mind. His tone of voice, the way he explained things, all added up to the fact that he was holding something back.

“I've received word that your ships are nearing completion.”  He answered, a grim smile coming to his face.  It was not an all together pleasant expression, but I hardly noticed.  I was filled with a sudden hope.  At long last, after six years of waiting, my ships were nearly ready to sail.  It was finally nearing the time when I could recover Kay.  My daughter.  I missed her so much that it hurt to think of her.

“You think we should run?”  I asked, but the words were hollow.  Knowing that my ships were ready, or nearly ready, I had no intention of staying in the capital.  Kreo had been a prison more than a city.  To be rid of the role of king, and finally on my way to recover Kay, was all that I really wanted.

“Would you have us start another war?  The Knights and the Black Patch Brigade against the armies of man?  What would we win through such a conflict?  Even when we won, and I do not doubt that we would, smaller though our force would be, what would we have to show for that win?  The kingdom of man would lay divided, and our resources would be depleted even further.  There would be no recovery.  If the Hungering came back. . .”  Ethaniel's words trailed off.  He didn't need to finish that thought.

“Then why back me?  You could easily dispose of me, and clear the way for Lheec, giving him control of the remaining Knights and the black cloaks.” I said the words almost at the same moment the thought occurred to me.  Ethaniel owed me nothing.  Indeed, I had done him no favors over the years.  I had killed the king he served, and many of his Knights, when recovering Kyeia from the facilities in which she was being kept and studied.

“Lheec, or whoever he chooses to serve as his puppet, will never really be the king.  I serve the man who I see fit, and for all that you are a political fool, you are the king that I believe in.  I will follow you, and the Knights will follow you as well.  The black cloaks will follow you until you're dead, because that is the only manner of dethroning that their particular form of magic understands.”

“Then it is settled.  We must make preparations to leave.”  I declared, nearly forgetting about the other matter I wished to discuss with Ethaniel.  I had told Silent, though, that I would try to correct what had been done.  Ethaniel was on the verge of turning to leave and make preparations.

“Ethaniel, before you leave, did you order assassins sent after Silent?”  I asked the old Knight.

He cocked his head, seeming to consider me before he answered.  His gray eyes were full of threat, but his black eyes seemed to be searching my demeanor for something.  What did he see, I wondered, when he looked at me?

“I did.”  He stated, not supplying any further explanation.

“I want that order canceled.”  I told him.  Had I not been about to leave the kingdom, I might have asked him why he had acted without my permission, but it hardly seemed to matter any longer.

“As you will, my King.”  My four-eyed advisor replied, and I could tell by the formality he used, that he was annoyed.  I didn't feel like pressing him any further on the matter, not when there was so much that needed to be done.  He turned and began to walk from the room.

“Ethaniel, try to carry out our preparations to leave as quietly as possible.”  I told him.

He didn't stop, though he called back over his shoulder.  “We'll be ready to leave in two days.  Be prepared.”  He walked from the room.

Two days.  That was fast.  Had Ethaniel already been making preparations for our departure?  If he had been, how had I not heard anything about it?  Was I really so far removed from the happenings of the castle?  That was a simple question to answer.  I was.  In the end, I had been a terrible king.  I bit down my bitterness at the way events had unwound.  I could do nothing further.

“Where are we going?”  Malice asked, startling me from my thoughts.  She had been listening after all.  She sat on the edge of my desk, looking at me with obvious curiosity.  She had no memories outside of what she'd experienced within the castle.  For her the prospect of leaving must have been both exciting and frightening.

“Far, far away from here, across the Great Salt Seep, and further still, to a place where none of our kind has traveled before.”  I told her, trying to make it sound like a magical voyage, an adventure.  The truth of the matter was somewhat less pleasant.  We would be crossing the great seas, a voyage that few ships survived, and from there we would be making land-fall in the lands of the Hungering.  I looked at Malice, and wondered for the first time, if it was right of me to take her along.  Should I take such an innocence to a place of death and terror?

She was smiling, her eyes full of wonder.  “Will we get to ride on a ship?  I've always wanted to ride on a ship!”

Looking at her, I knew that there was no way I could leave her behind.  No one would be able to look after her, and I couldn't bring myself to simply abandon her.  Danger or not, she would have to come along.  I would have to protect her, and do a better job of it than I had so far.

“Yes, we will get to ride on a ship.”  I answered, forcing a smile through the haze of worry that I felt suddenly creeping up around me.

“So you're going to let Lheec chase us out of the capital like a bunch of scared animals?”  Snow said dully as I told her of what Ethaniel and I had decided to do.  I was not surprised at her reaction.  Snow did not approve of retreating.  At least, not when fighting was a viable option.

“No, we'll be gone well before Lheec and his men arrive.  When his armies get here, the castle will be empty.”  I answered her calmly.  In truth, I had plans of my own.  I did not intend to simply hand over the kingdom and its assets to Lheec, but I had not shared that knowledge with anyone else yet.  The idea had come to me as I had finished my conversation with Ethaniel, and by the time I had reached Snow for training, my course of action was all but set.  Lheec would get the kingdom, but I would make sure that he had some trouble settling in.  He would not take the throne without a cost.

“They will call you a coward.”  Snow's face was set, her mouth an angry line.

“Let them.  Fighting will win nothing but death.  I'm not prepared to start another war just to hold the crown.  I never wanted to be the king in the first place.”  I tried to explain things to my stubborn master of swords, but she shook her head again.

“I don't like this.  Lheec deserves to be put in his place.”  Snow retorted.

“Lheec will have no easy time sitting himself upon the throne.”  I offered, unwilling to divulge any details of my plan at that point.  “I think that Lheec will find his throne is going to cost him much more than he anticipated.  I also don't think the people will be calling me a coward after I am gone.  In fact, they will probably have nothing but kind things to say.”

Snow's angry expression turned to one of curiosity.  “What are you going to do?  You haven't had any luck making the people happy yet.  If you had something you could do that would please them, why didn't you do it before all of this happened?”  She seemed to think for a minute, and added.  “Not that I'm criticizing your work as king.  You just have not managed to capture the hearts of the people.”

I might have been offended if her words were not so obviously true.  “What I have in mind is something that will only work once, and when I am done, it will leave things in a very difficult place for whoever is left holding the crown.  Next week, when Lheec arrives, he will find himself in an incredibly precarious situation.  If he can hold the kingdom, it will cost him dearly.  If he can't, it will still cost him dearly, and he will be out the crown he so desperately wants.”

Now Snow smiled.  “I don't know what you have in mind, but it sounds absolutely terrible.”  She put on a stern expression.  “Lowin, it's not like you to do spiteful things.”

I thought about that for a moment.  Was I simply trying to sting Lheec to no benefit?  That was a possibility.  The man had, however, tried to kidnap Malice, and he'd tried to have me killed, possibly on multiple occasions.  I had, I thought, held my temper quite well so far.  It was past time for me to stand up and fight back.  If I could do so without hurting the kingdom as a whole, all the better.

I turned my eyes to Laouna.

She was still working on her sword forms, getting better with every hour of practice.  Her body remembered, even if her mind did not.  I hoped that she would be ready to fight if a situation arose that must be confronted by force.  I would do everything in my power to protect her, but that would be easier if she was also able to protect herself.

“How is she progressing?”  I asked Snow, who was also now watching the red-haired girl.

“She is a brilliant student.  I don't know whether she is remembering what she knew before, or whether she is really learning as fast as I'm teaching her, but I have never trained anyone so good.”  I saw Snow's jaw tighten, and knew she was about to say something she didn't want to.  It was a habit of hers to bite off things she didn't wish to speak. “She's not better than me now, but she will be if she keeps on learning at this pace.  Even when I teach her techniques that I know she never learned before, she takes to them quickly.  Another year or two and I will have nothing left to offer her.  She is good, but. . .”  Her voice trailed off.

“But?”  I prompted, after a short silence that I wasn't certain Snow was going to complete.

“She lacks the will to kill.  She is playing a game.  When she strikes, she does not strike with the determination to wound or kill.  Without that, she will never be an effective fighter.”  Snow finished.

I nodded solemnly.  Malice had never lacked that edge.  I remembered only too well the first time I'd met her, and she'd lifted me up by the front of my shirt, picking me up until I was eye level with her.  Her eyes had been black then, and they had been full of darkness and anger.  I had feared she would kill me.  That feral look of pent rage had always been just behind the surface of her eyes.

Laouna, with her green eyes, and gentle smile, had nothing of the anger and darkness that Malice had worn like a shroud.  How beautiful and terrible she had been in the dance of battle. . .

“Real battle will harden her, and give her the edge she needs.  She needs to have her life on the line.  That's the only way to work through the hesitance.”  Snow said.  I knew the words were true.  Killing was difficult, but it became easier the more it was done.  That was the sad truth of being a soldier.  After a while, it became difficult to see those on the opposite side of your sword as anything other than targets.

“Blood will temper the steel of determination.”  I spoke the old adage, one I'd heard from experienced fighting men, with a mournful breath.  I did not doubt that fighting would better Malice's ability to strike, but I wondered if she deserved to be run through that dark gauntlet again.  She had a second chance at innocence.  Did I have the right to take that away from her?  I would not defile her body, should I allow her mind to be equally defiled? It would make her a better fighter, but it might take that spark of innocent joy from her eyes as well.

I loved her, and I did not want to see that light fade from her forever.  I vowed to myself that I would strive to keep her from battle as long as I might.  If she must fight, I told myself, let it be only when no other choice remained before her.  Until that time, my arm would be her shield, and my sword would be raised for her defense.  After all, my innocence was already lost forever to a world that took and never gave back.

“I'll have your new sword for you tonight.”  Snow's voice broke my line of thought.  I looked at her, confused for a moment.  I did not carry a sword often within the castle.  I had tried to for a while, but my retainers and the other nobles did not feel comfortable.

When I did carry a sword, I carried the blade that had been given to me by a dying soldier on the battlefield where I had fought the black drakes, and lost my arm.  The blade had survived the battle, and though I didn't believe in luck, I had felt the blade had served me well, so I kept it.  I'd had the blade repaired after the battle, but had no more work done to it.  It was not of the light, bright-silver steel that was commonly used in noble weapons, but it was a good and sturdy blade.  I didn't savor the thought of replacing it, even if Snow though it was wise for me to change to a longer weapon, closer to the one I'd practiced with the day before.

“I already have a sword.” I told her, remembering Uin Delmor, the fallen soldier's whose blade I carried, and whose name I had burned into my mind.

“I know, because I've had it reforged for you.”  She replied, smiling.

“You had my sword reforged?”  I was angry.  That sword had sentimental value, and I was aghast that it had been melted down.

“Don't look at me like that.”  Snow snapped.  “The steel is still the same.  I made sure that the metal was matched perfectly, and that not a drop of the original weapon was put to waste.  The cross-piece was reworked to fit, and even the bindings were repaired and kept.  You will be pleasantly surprised with the finished results.  It is a blade unlike any other.  I supervised its design myself.”

My anger diminished, flowing away almost as fast as it had come.  I remembered a time when my anger would not have flared up so quickly, or so brightly.  I had changed.

I could see that Snow had put a lot of effort into the new sword, and that she had meant it as a kindness.  She had known how much the original blade meant to me, and seen to it that the new blade was true to the old.  The truth of the matter was that I did want a longer, heavier weapon.  Snow had provided that, and allowed me to keep my old blade, in a sense.

I smiled at her, though it still pained me to think of my sword being melted down.  “Thank you, Snow.  I know that if you helped design it, it will be a blade without equal.”

My blade master smiled, and I could tell that she was sincerely happy and maybe even excited about her gift.  Giving, I thought, was often better than receiving.  Snow stepped closer to me, and leaned forward, her lips forming that gesture that can only mean one thing.  I found myself leaning forward as well.

“I'm ready!”  Laouna called, stopping us both in our tracks.  She was standing off to one side of us, her practice blade at her side.  “I'm ready to spar again.”  She spoke directly to Snow.  Behind the green-eyed girls eyes, burned a fire of competition I had seldom seen.  She was challenging Snow to a battle of sword, but she was also challenging Snow for my affection.  I looked to Snow and saw the expression reflected in her eyes, even if not so keenly.

I could say nothing, at that point, without hurting the feelings of one or the other, so I backed away.  Snow took up her practice wand, and the two fighters, perhaps the two greatest sword masters the world had ever seen, squared off across the practice field.  There was an air of competition between them, but also I sensed a certain camaraderie.  They were about to duel, but they were akin spirits.  I watched them stand still, each waiting for the perfect moment to move, and it seemed the world froze as well, wanting to see the outcome of the encounter that was about to occur.

What signal triggered the first move, was beyond my ability to determine.  Suddenly both women exploded forward, their practice weapons weaving through the patterns of battle like a bird of prey cuts the sky, chasing its quarry.  Malice, for all the skill that she had lost when her memories fled, was still better with a blade than I was.  Snow was as well.  I had seen many blades clash over the years, but when Malice and Snow faced off, it was like watching physical poetry.

It became obvious after very little time that Snow had the upper hand.  She knew more tricks, and her form was more flawlessly executed.  Malice was losing ground with every pass, and it was only a matter of time before she faltered.  I watched, stifling my urge to interfere.  I knew what was coming, but it wasn't my place to come between the two women.  The practice field, and their sparring matches, were theirs.

It happened suddenly.  Malice's guard passed perilously low, Snow feinted high, the green-eyed girl responded by making a drastic correction, and Snow changed her blade's momentum and feinted low.  Even further off balance, Malice again forced her guard low to counter.  This time, as Snow changed direction once more, I saw the finishing blow.  The wooden wand caught Malice on the left side of the face hard enough to knock the girl backwards, and to send a jet of blood into the air.  I winced.  That was a solid hit.

I came forward to check on Malice, but Snow had already come to her side, and was knelt on the ground, her weapon discarded.

“Are you alright?”  Snow asked.

Malice was clutching the side of her face that had been struck by Snow's weapon.  I could see a deep bruise forming there, from around her viciously clawed fingers.  I knew the bruise would form and pass within an hour, with Malice's healing abilities, but I still didn't like to see it.  However, I could not fault Snow for the injury.  The practice match had been well fought on both sides, and Snow had only done what was necessary to teach a lesson.

The red-haired girl nodded, looking sullen.  “Yes.”  She said, miserably.

“You did well.”  Snow announced, standing up and offering a hand to her fallen opponent.

“I lost again.”  Laouna answered, accepting the hand and allowing Snow to pull her back to her feet.

“Your form is still weak, and you allowed your blade to be teased out of position.”  Snow reprimanded, but without the sting of gloating.  Malice's expression turned even more sullen.

“However, you also showed a surprising level of adaptability, and an impressive ability to recall, and quickly apply, the different forms you've been taught.”  Snow continued.  “Your performance today was better than yesterday.  I'm very proud of you.”

Malice did something she rarely did.  As her hand fell away from her face, she actually smiled at her instructor.  Her cheek was badly bruised, and there was a split on the skin, though that had mostly closed already.  Her sullenness seemed to flee before Snow's praise.

“This doesn't mean you can stop practicing your forms.”  Snow snapped, her face taking on the grim expression it generally did when she was being an instructor.  “You must work even harder, now, to fix the flaws in your style.  I will go harder on you from here on out.”

Malice nodded once.  “I will work hard, Snow.”  She said, and there was determination in her voice.  The competition was at an end.  Snow had won the fight, but more than that, I believed the two women had once more reestablished their level of mutual respect.  That was as it should be.

Snow turned to me.  “What are you staring at?  You haven't worked half as hard as she has, and you've only mastered a third of the techniques.  You might be able to beat her now, through brute strength, but strength will only get you so far.”  Her face was stern.

“Hmmm," I replied, unhappy with the sudden change in direction the situation had taken.  Snow, I realized, was now ready to start pounding out my weaknesses.  I didn't savor the notion.

The morning of departure came quickly, a flurry of activity buzzed throughout the castle.  It was well known that I - with my retinue of Knights - was soon to be departing the capital on a hunting trip.  Of course, the “hunting trip” was only a pretext under which we were actually slipping quietly out of the kingdom.  All of the black cloaks, and all of the remaining Knights of Ethan, were ready to march.  The Knights had been told of what was really happening, but the Black Patch Brigade remained oblivious.  I had tried to talk about it with Liet, but my once-companion was uninterested in anything more than what his orders were for the duration of the coming events.  I knew that had I tried to discuss the matter with any of the other black cloaks, they would have been equally uninterested.

As I prepared to leave, my pack strapped beneath my brilliant blue cloak, Ethaniel came marching through my bedroom door.  Laouna shot him an acidic look from where she sat perched on the edge of my bed as he entered uninvited.  Laouna was already prepared to leave, her own pack in place, and her shifting cloak wrapped about her shoulders.  She looked almost like any other Knight, dressed in such a fashion.  Her expression, and her relaxed manner, betrayed the illusion.

“What is this about a public address before you leave the capital today?”  Ethaniel demanded, angered that he had been left out of the loop.  I ignored the piercing gaze of his gray eyes, and replied calmly.

“I'm going to address the people before we depart.  I have something to tell them; a last act as king.”  I explained.  I had gone to great lengths to carry out my plans with as little notice as possible.  Very few of the castle staff had been told of what was to be done, and only those few in high positions and with a lot to lose should any information leak out.

“. . . and what is the nature of this 'last act'?”  Ethaniel pressed, his ire still obvious in the tone of his voice.

“You'll find out at the announcement, with the others.”  I told him.  I didn't want him to try and stop me, and there was a chance that he would, if he knew what I intended.

A low growl issued from Ethaniel.  “You shouldn't be keeping secrets.  Things are dangerous enough as they are.  You endanger us all with your carelessness.”  The old Knight threatened.

“That is true.  Things are dangerous, and what I have in mind will not change that one way or the other.”  I looked at Ethaniel, my eyes locking with his black eyes, shying clear of the gray, smoke and hostility-filled eyes above.  “Have I not proven that I have at least some sense in all the time you've known me?”

Ethaniel did not reply immediately.  “I'm your advisor.  You have an obligation to share your plans with me, otherwise I cannot advise.”  He finally snapped.

“I have looked to you on most major decisions, Ethaniel, but this is something that I have to do.  You don't have to approve of it, but you'll learn nothing more from me until I make the announcement.”  I held firm to my conviction.  I was committed to my course of action, and would not allow my four-eyed advisor to dissuade me.

Ethaniel's fists clenched at his sides.  He seemed about to say something more, but then thought better of it.  He turned and left the room, his cape snapping in his wake.  The encounter had gone almost as badly as I'd feared it would, though perhaps not as badly as my imagination had conspired to make me believe.  My head was still attached to my shoulders.

“He scares me.”  I heard Laouna say, and I turned to see that she had gotten up from the bed and was standing just a few feet behind me.  She wore a sword at her side, and her hand was on the hilt.

“He's been an advisor to the king for a long time.”  I told her, making my voice as soothing as possible.  “He's a good man, proven through years of service.  You don't need to fear him.”  I told her, but the truth of that matter was that I feared Ethaniel as well.  There was something dark about the old Knight, and it was a darkness that only seemed to grow by the week.  Could it be so easily explained away as stress?  I often wondered.

Malice shook her head.  “He's a monster.”

I forced a smile.  I had heard that term used to describe me on many occasions.  It had become almost a curse in my ears.

“He is no more a monster than am I.”  I told her, but I was not certain I believed those words as strongly as I might have years before.  Ethaniel had sent assassins after Silent, and he had told me I should have accepted Lheec's daughter despite her age and hesitance.  Maybe he was a loyal king's man, but could his judgment be trusted?  I wanted to believe that it could, but every time I looked into his smoky-gray eyes, and saw the rage and violence within them, I found myself questioning his motives.

“You're not a monster.  You're just sad.”  Malice's voice cut across my thoughts. I looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Sad?”  I asked, uncertain what she meant.

“Sad.”  She repeated.

“What makes you think that I'm sad?”  I asked.

She shrugged her reply.  “Sometimes you just look sad.  I don't know why.  You don't smile a lot.”

I'd heard it said, that children had a different way of seeing the world, and that sometimes they picked up on subtle signals that adults, hardened to the world, did not see.  I wondered if Malice had that same clarity of vision, or if she simply knew me well enough to see through the facade of cold indifference I tended to wear.

“Sometimes I think I get too busy, and I forget that it's alright to smile.”  I told her, the words little more than an excuse for all the reasons I actually did not care to smile.

Malice stepped forward and locked her left arm in the crook of my right arm.  “You should smile as often as you can.”  The green-eyed girl, suddenly serious, told me.  “It will make you feel better.”

I considered her for a moment, thinking on what she'd said.  Was a smile the source of good humor, or was good humor the source of a smile?  In an ideal world, I thought, maybe just smiling could bring happiness, but I had too many bad memories, and too many worries still ahead, to smile away my troubles.  I forced the expression once more for Malice.

She sighed.  “I know when you're not really doing it.”  She said.  “You're not good at faking it.”

I let the expression fade away.  “I'll have to work on my fake smile then.”

Malice punched me in the shoulder with her free right hand, not hard, but hard enough to make me wince, at least in feigned discomfort.

“That's not how it works.  You have to really be happy.”  She said, irritated.

“I guess I shall have to work on that instead.”  I said, in all seriousness.

“Good.”  She responded.  We walked out of the room together.  Liet, and the other black cloak on duty, fell in behind us.  It was time to leave.

I stood in the middle of the procession of Black Patch Brigade and Knights.  I knew the names of all the remaining Knights of Ethan, but the black cloaks far outnumbered them.  There were nearly a thousand of the menacing, black-hooded figures in my retinue, all of them with their hard-set, dark eyes gleaming from beneath their hoods.  Each of them was an individual explosion of violence contained by black thread.  Would the magic that bound them to me loyally, last indefinitely?  That was something I couldn't know for sure.  I was no master in the arts of magic, but I feared for the worst.  I wanted to give those wretched men back their humanity, but what humanity really remained in them?  Their eyes, but for seldom few times, always burned with the powerful hatred, and terrible hunger of the Fell Beast to which they were bound.  It was dark magic, indeed, that had crafted their bodies.

The wind kicked up, and I drew my cloak about my shoulders more tightly.  The fabric was magic.  It could resist cutting to an extent, and kept the same comfortable temperature on the inside, but strong wind still made me want to clutch the fabric more tightly about me.  I felt out of place dressed in my bright blue cloak.  All around me were black figures, punctuated by the occasional shifting cloak of the Knights of Ethan.  In their midst, I was like a beacon of brightness, drawing all eyes as we passed through the busy streets of Kreo.

The people were assembling.  The city criers had been out before us, and they had announced that I would be holding a public assembly in the city center before departing on my hunting trip.  The eyes that sought me in the crowd all held barely contained hostility.  No few of those common people, those subjects of the king, would gladly have seen me drawn from my crowd of protectors and murdered in the streets.  An occasional rock sailed through the air, to be knocked aside by my black cloak protectors.

As a Knight of Ethan I had been feared, and even hated by some, but as a king I was feared by none, and hated by all.  Many people dreamed of becoming a king some day, and of having the power to make the changes they wanted, and to live a life of luxury.  I, however, had my fill of royal life. There was little freedom as the king, and the life of luxury was little more than a gilded cage.  I was watched constantly, and never free to do as I wished for a moment.  In the years I had served the kingdom, I'd had not a single moment of real privacy.  The nights in my room, and those spent with Snow, had been the closest I'd managed, and even then the black cloaks, my ever present guards, had been no further away than the span of a room, and the thickness of a door.

It was strange, but I could look back on the time I'd spent traveling with Malice, running through the forests of the kingdom of men, with no one watching but the birds and the sky, and I envied those moments.  Life had been hard, and we had been running for a purpose, but I'd had freedom.  As the king, I was still driven by purpose, but freedom was lost.  My life was not my own.  Even once I left the lands of men, the Black Patch Brigade would remain.  They were bound to me until I died, or until they died.  That was a grim reality that I didn't wish to dwell upon.  I was one monster, tied to hundreds.

We cut a wide channel through the city streets on our way to the public square.  The people, though curious and eager to throw insults and whatever else they might have on their person, at the king, were still terrified of the Knights of Ethan, and the black cloaks.  They gave us distance, if for no other reason than that they feared getting too close to one of my savage guards.

I flexed the muscles in my back, feeling the weight of my new sword as the strap pressed against my flesh there.  It was a comforting feeling.  The blade was too long to be worn at my side in the normal fashion.

Snow had been right.  The reforged weapon was a thing of beauty, but one that retained the spirit of the blade it had been built from.  The scabbard was a special construction as well.  It was designed to allow the blade to slip from the side with ease, so that I could draw the weapon quickly in a time of need.  There was a simple catch that I could spring with my drawing hand, and the blade would fall into my ready palm in an instant.  The catch was designed so that it would take a precise effort from me to release it, so that my blade would not come lose at inopportune times.  It was a very clever design, and one that Snow had assured me was entirely hers.  She had no shortage of confidence in her work.

I had been wearing the blade ever since I received it.  It made my retainers uncomfortable, and drew stares, but it felt good to have a weapon on all the time again.  For sitting and such, a simple pull of one of two straps shifted the blade from the center of my back, to either side.  If I could just be rid of my blue cloak, I thought, I might finally feel more like my old self.  Perhaps I should have been ashamed for feeling more comfortable while wearing a weapon, but I had spent most of my time as a young man fighting for my life, and thrust into situations where my survival was dependent upon being able to defend myself.  A sword was an assurance that I would not have to face a foe unprepared.  Perhaps, I thought, if politicians squared off in such a manor, decisions might be made more quickly and with less dishonesty.  Steel never lies.

We finally reached the city square.  People were pilling in from all the side streets, filling the entire area. They created a wide channel for my men and me to pass through.  There was a terrible tension in the air.  I felt as though at any minute fighting might break out.  I made my way towards the stone pedestal, an open stage that stood in the middle of the clearing.  The large stone had been damaged in the Hungering attack, crumpled by one of their black drakes, but enough of it still stood that I could make my way to the top of it, and thus put myself higher than those assembled around me.  More and more people poured into the public square, even as I took to the pedestal.

In front of the masses of people of Kreo, I felt exposed.  Their hate-filled eyes lashed my body like whips.  Their hostility was like a wave upon which I must ride, or fall and succumb to the fury of their potent wrath.  I looked around me, for I was surrounded by masses of people on all sides.  I saw the eyes of the denizens of Kreo, but also the eyes of Ethaniel, and the other Knights of Ethan.  Some few of them, too, I noticed, were hostile to me.  Snow and Malice, those four eyes looked upon me not with hostility, but with curiosity.  They gave me strength, or I took strength from them.  I couldn't be certain.

I held up my arm, hand stretched out wide, and silence passed through the crowd around me, spreading from those nearest me, and outward like a great wave through the assembly.  I waited for quiet.  As with any large crowd, it never grew absolute, but it became close enough.  I began.

“As you all know by now, I will be leaving on a hunting trip for the next few months.”  A murmur of dissatisfaction swept through the audience at my words.  They believed I had called the assembly just to announce what they had already known.  “However," I spoke loudly, firmly, my voice carrying to the ends of the clearing and beyond.  Silence fell once more.  “I would not leave and have my people left in misery while I am gone.  I know only too well that times have been difficult for the people of Kreo.  I have heard your complaints, and I have thought long and hard on how I could best serve the people.”

“You could kill yourself and let a man take the crown!”  Someone yelled from the throng, and a roll of uneasy laughter filled the clearing.

I ignored the words, and stuck to my original purpose.  “Today I am here to announce that, over the course of the next week, every citizen of Kreo will be entitled to a sum of gold, and a provision of the king's land, to be handed out at the castle.”  I paused for a moment, and heard a wave of awe pass through the crowed, followed by whispers, and a general confusion.  “This gift will be given to every man, woman and child, but only once.”

“Upon being given your share, your right palm will be marked with a symbol that will not wash off for two weeks.  If you attempt to cheat the system, I assure you the punishment will be swift and terrible.”  The cacophony of voices, which had silenced as I spoke, arose again.  This time, however, there was a general sense of exuberant joy.  Some people started to cheer, and then others joined.  Suddenly, the hated king was very popular with the people.  They did not care that giving out money in such a way would drive the kingdom to financial ruin, and that giving out all of the kingdom's land would lower the amount of food that could be produced for the public.

What I had done, in one bold move, was destroy the self-sustaining economy of the country of men.  The people of the kingdom, who did not understand the ramifications of my actions, were overjoyed.  In truth, they only stood to benefit from my decision.  It was Lord Lheec who would suffer.  He would come into the kingdom only to find that its vaults were empty, and its lands divided and owned by the people.  He would either have to take the lands back from the people, or cart in supplies from his own lands, thus depleting his own resources to uphold the entire economy.  Either way, he would find himself in a precarious and unpopular position.

“The gifting starts tomorrow at dawn, and will be carried out at the taxation office.  There will be plenty of time for everyone to receive their due, so do not fret.  No one will be left out.”  I called over the shouts and voices.  Another round of cheering filled the air.  My eyes gazed across the crowed, specifically across the eyes that watched me from my own party.  Some of the Knights looked away as I attempted to gauge their reaction.  Ethaniel met my gaze, and may have even cracked the slightest smile.  I couldn't be certain, but I did not see any outward anger.  That, at least, was a good sign.  Snow's eyes sparkled with mischief as she realized exactly what I had done.  Malice looked excited, though I doubted she fully understood the situation.  I couldn't help but smile.

I stepped down from the dais, and voices rose all around me.  “King Noble!  King Noble!”  The people chanted.  It was a good moment.  Despite all that I had hated being a king, at that moment it felt good to wear the crown, and better yet to know that I was nearly done with it.

The black cloaks and the Knights of Ethan, formed up around me as I made my way through the mass of people towards the exit of the city.  We did not travel with war-sows or reave haulers, as I felt the animals would be too difficult to maintain on a long march.  Bringing animals just meant that I would need to bring supplies for those animals.  It was better to travel light.  People pressed in all around us as we traveled, no longer throwing the occasional rock, or icy stare, but now throwing flowers, and well wishes for the hunt.  It was remarkable to see how quickly the attitudes of the people could change.

It had taken a good deal of effort to set everything up for my plan, and to assure that it was carried out fairly.  Sums would be given out until there was no longer anyone who had not received a dividend.  This would leave some money and land still available to be signed over.  This land and money was to be divided among the staff of the castle.  They would, in the end, get the largest share, but then they were responsible for assuring that the rest of my plan was properly carried out.  In the end, everyone would be a little richer, and have a little more land to call their own.  Well, everyone but Lord Lheec, who would find himself hard pressed to fund the repairs for the country, and to pay off all those owed money by the kingdom.

“You're bankrupting the nation so that you can have one last jab at Lheec.”  A voice said, close to my left side.  I recognized the tones immediately.  It was Ethaniel.

“I know, but I wasn't going to hand everything over to him without doing something.”  I answered.

“He'll hate you for this.”  Ethaniel said, his voice neither a reprimand nor an encouragement.

“I thought he already hated me.”  I replied.  Lheec had tried to kill me on many occasions.  That seemed a strange thing to do to someone you didn't hate.

Ethaniel shook his head.  “No, he just needed you out of the way.  After this, though, he will hate you.  You might not be able to come back here.”

“That is the least of my problems.  You know as well as I, that there is a significant chance that I will never have the opportunity to return here anyway.  What we're doing is dangerous.  We could die.”  I locked eyes with the old Knight.  His jaw was set firm, and his face showed determination.  I ignored the gray, hostile eyes that seemed to give off an entirely different state of being than the rest of Ethaniel's face.

The old Knight said something then that I did not expect.  His eyes seemed to focus somewhere far away as he spoke, the gray eyes, as well, seemed to lose their malignant fire.

“I have fought for this country so long that I don't know anything else.  I am afraid of what this means for us.  I fear what might come next. . .”  His voice, in that moment, sounded like the voice of a lost child.  I turned to look more closely at my advisor.

“Ethaniel, are you alright?”  I asked him, suddenly worried.  The vacant expression fled his features, his eyes sharpened, and the gray eyes grew fiery once more.

“Yes.”  He replied.  “. . . just lost in thought for a moment.”  He flexed the wings wresting on his shoulders.  “Things have been hard these last few years.  Whatever fate awaits us, it will be better than being locked in this dying city.”

I nodded, for I agreed with him, but I was still troubled by his lapse in composure.  I had never seen Ethaniel less than totally focused before.  Ethaniel was the oldest of the Knights, and he seemed to be experiencing more and more instability as the years passed.  I had to wonder if it was an indication of the direction that all Knight's would eventually take, becoming more and more morbid and dark as our minds were forced to adapt to the traumas of a hard life that stretched on without foreseeable end.  I had never contemplated the reality of my long life-span, or what it could mean to me over the course of hundreds of years.

Lucidil had been mad, power hungry, and driven to extremes beyond reason.  Had that been due to living too long?  Of the first couple generations of Knights, only Ethaniel still remained.  There were no others by which to compare.  Had the others been as dark and demented as Lucidil had been, or as frightening as Ethaniel was becoming?   Perhaps I was reading too much into the perceived problem.

I put it from my mind, knowing that I would need to address those questions at some time in the not so distant future.  I relied too heavily upon Ethaniel to not question his actions when they were suspect.  The castle gates loomed ahead, and all my worries fled.  The road awaited me.  Kaylien needed me.

We had traveled for two days when Ethaniel came to me after we'd made camp for the evening.  The black cloaks went mechanically about their preparations for the night.  They split off into groups, some bedding down, and others preparing for their shift on watch.  It was eerie to observe them as they went about their work in near complete silence.  I was almost thankful when the four-eyed Knight approached me, but I knew, even before he spoke, that I wasn't going to like what he had in mind.  He approached in a stiff and terse manner; his face hard set like it was any time he planned on telling me something he knew would be a point of contention between us.

“I'm going back to Kreo.”  He said, making it a statement, and not a request for my permission.

I shook my head in negative reply.  “No, you're not.  We've finished with Kreo.  There is no reason to go back.  Our goal lays ahead of us now.”

“I left something dangerous in a place where it might be found.  I need to put it someplace where it will not fall into the wrong hands.  I must go back to Kreo.”  He reaffirmed his decision.  I knew already that he would be going back, but I did not intend upon giving in so easily.  Ethaniel had made his decision, and he could have avoided coming to me all together.  I should have simply let him do what he wanted.  He was going to, whether I agreed or not.

“What is so important that you'd risk going back to Kreo now?”  I pressed, and not just to push the frightening Knight to anger.  I really couldn't imagine what would necessitate a trip back to the capital.

“The research for the creation of the Black Patch Brigade, and the method for creating Knights of Ethan.  If I don't go back and erase the research, Lord Lheec will have access to that information.  Those are secrets best kept out of the hands of men like Lheec.  I will go back and take care of things.”  Ethaniel's point struck home.  I had thought all such information was destroyed, or at least locked away where it might never be found.  I had never been specific on my orders regarding the disuse of those magics.  I was at fault as much as anyone else for my lack of care.

I found myself nodding despite my best intentions.  The black cloaks and the Knights of Ethan should never be placed in the hands of a man like Lheec.  He would exploit their strengths to spread his own power mercilessly.  He'd already proved that he would not wince in the face of murder if it would obtain his goals.  A man like that would be unstoppable with the Knights and Black Patch Brigade at his call.

We had traveled for two days.  It would take Ethaniel less than that to get back to the city, if he made fast time.  Lheec's forces needed at least a week to reach Kreo from his borders, and that was at a forced march.  Four days had passed since he'd left the capital.  That left time for Ethaniel to get in and out of Kreo.  It would be close.

There was still a risk that something could go wrong.  Lheec might have sent a sprinter ahead for his army, then they would arrive earlier than anticipated, or Ethaniel might be slowed down by adverse weather.  It was a big risk to allow him to go back to Kreo.  We were still almost two weeks away from the ships.  Ethaniel could get to Kreo, and return to us in a matter of days if he traveled hard.  We would, of course, have to keep moving.

“You can go, but you need to be quick and careful.  Lheec could be in Kreo at any time.  We've assumed that we had a week from the time he left, but we could be wrong.  We've spent two days traveling, and another two days preparing to leave.  At the most, you have three days.  It shouldn't take you two to reach Kreo if you press hard, and another two to meet up with us again.  We'll keep moving.”  I tried to stress the urgency of our need to work quickly.

Ethaniel nodded.  “This will not take me long.  I will be gone before Lheec reaches Kreo.”

I looked at the old Knight, and he looked back at me.  His gray eyes held an unfamiliar sparkle.  It might have been the fire light playing off of them, or perhaps some trick of the moon which hung full and heavy above, but in that dim light those eyes looked as though they brimmed with terrible glee.  A shiver ran down my back.

“Go then, but travel fast, travel safe.”  I said, dismissing Ethaniel, suddenly quite eager to have those terrible eyes as far from me as possible, though I knew that they could see me from any distance away if given the right motivation.  What motivated those eyes, however, was something I, or even Ethaniel, did not understand.

Ethaniel left without another word, vanishing from the edge of the campsite and into the darkness of the world beyond.  I followed his progress for a few moments, until his movements were too far away for even my sensitive motion-tracking vision.

It shouldn't have bothered me, but I found myself wrought with a feeling of distrust towards the old Knight.  Was he really going back to Kreo to do what he claimed he intended?  His words hadn't rang false, but Ethaniel was a difficult individual to read.  His emotions were, generally, so tightly restrained.  What other purpose could he have for returning to the city?  There was nothing of importance left there.  At least, nothing of importance that I knew of.

I was assuming that he was telling the truth when he said he was returning to Kreo.  What if he was going somewhere else?  That was something I hadn't considered initially.  Where else would he be going?  That I didn't know.  I was letting my paranoia get the best of me.  It did little good to ponder the unknown, when it posed no immediate threat.

Snow approached me.  She was dressed in a Knight's attire, her hood pulled back, and her white-furred arms crossed over her chest.  Her face bore a curious expression.  I knew what the subject of conversation would be before she even opened her mouth.

“He's returning to Kreo to dispose of some dangerous information pertaining to the origin of the black cloaks, and the Knights of Ethan.”  I told her, preempting the question I thought was coming.

“I heard," She said, twitching her white capped ears to emphasize the reality of her exceptional hearing.  I sometimes forgot that I wasn't the only one with the ears of the Fell Beast.  “But what concerns me is that, as far as I know, all such information has already been destroyed.”

“What?”  I asked incredulously, suddenly finding myself confused.

“When you ordered the research stopped, we destroyed the written documentation that went with it.”  Snow explained, her eyes scanning the tree line into which Ethaniel had vanished.

“Perhaps there were copies hidden somewhere else.”  I said, trying desperately to put Ethaniel's actions in a better light.  I didn't want to believe that he would outright lie to me.

Snow shrugged.  “It's a possibility.  If there were still copies hidden, Ethaniel would be the one to know about them, but. . .”  Her words trailed off.  “He's been acting strangely lately.  Something isn't right with him.”  She added after a pause.

“It could be the stress of the situation.”  I offered forth one of my own theories.

“Ethaniel was dealing with tense situations for hundreds of years before you were born.  Why would he only start to show signs of instability now?”  Snow asked, putting voice to the very concerns that had filled my mind many times over the prior few weeks.

“I'll need to question him on this when he gets back.”  I said, my voice heavy with the weight of exactly what those words entailed.  Directly questioning Ethaniel in such a way would be like accusing him of betrayal.  That was a big step to take, and one that could never be undone.

Snow shook her head.  “No, I don't think that would be advisable.”  Her voice dropped, becoming so quiet I had to lean in to hear her, even with my sensitive ears.  “You're the king, and what you want to do is your decision, but perhaps it would be better to watch him for a time.  Ethaniel has served this country well, and many of the Knights would sooner side with him than you if things came to a split.  It would be best to be cautious here.”

I looked into Snow's black, almost pink, eyes.  There was no deception there, and I sensed no intent to trick or otherwise mislead me.  For all I could tell, she was being honest with me.  It was comforting to know that I wasn't the only who had noticed Ethaniel acting strangely.

“Who would you side with?”  I asked her, not entirely sure of the answer I might get.  We had become good friends, but Snow was a Knight, and she had always been loyal to the Knights.

She grinned.  “I came to you, didn't I?”  With that, she turned and walked back the way she'd come, leaving me to my thoughts.  Malice sat by my feet, on her bedroll.  She had witnessed both interactions, watching in silence.  Sometimes it was easy to forget that she was even there.

“You see, other people know it too.  Ethaniel is a monster.”  She reiterated her earlier sentiment, this time quietly, in conspiratory tones.

I placed my hand on her head and messed her hair.  “I'll be certain to watch out for him.  You need to get some sleep.  We've another long day of walking tomorrow.”  Malice stuck her tongue out at me before curling up under her cloak and falling quickly asleep.  I sat on my own bed roll, prepared to stay up the night, watching in silence.  I suddenly felt as though the entire world was stalking me, waiting for me to drop my guard for a second so that it might attack.  Little did I know that my paranoia was well justified.

Hours of darkness passed around me before a figure came silently through the camp in my direction.  The shifting cloak and stiff posture told me immediately that it was a Knight of Ethan.  I stood at his approach.  I could tell by the way he moved that he was coming on business.  He drew down his hood as he neared.

“Rampage," I identified him, and offered him a nod of my head.  I spoke in a low voice so as not to wake the others around me.  “What brings you to me so late at night?”

Rampage bowed evenly before speaking.  “Our border patrol has captured something you'll want to see.”  He said, looking urgently back the direction he'd come.  I pulled the strap on my scabbard, sliding the blade to the center of my back and nodded.

“What is it?”  I asked, falling in behind him as he turned about.  Two of my guards fell in at my side, Black Patch Brigade soldiers who would have followed me whether invited or not.  It was their job.  I would have to individually order each of them to stay behind if I wanted them gone, and I had not looked closely enough to determine who each of them was.  Besides, their black cloak names were ever difficult to remember.

“It's better if you see for yourself, your Majesty.”  Rampage was old blood.  He wasn't as old as Ethaniel, but he had served the Knights for a long time.  If he felt that there was something I needed to see, I was willing to take his word on it.  I followed him in silence as he lead the way past the edge of camp and out into the dark wood beyond.

The night air was crisp and fresh, and I drew great breaths of it, filling my lungs with the invigorating chill.  It felt good to move, and better still to breathe the fresh, untainted air of the open wilderness.  Far beyond the city, the air was free of smoke, and the smells of civilized life.  That particular stench, a smell that only appeared in places where men amassed in large numbers, was impossible to pinpoint, but impossible to forget as well.  I was happy to leave it behind.

I kept my eyes on Rampage's back, following the older Knight through the twists and turns of the deep forest.  I looked forward, but for the few times I glanced to the sky to check our position.  I wasn't sure where we were going, but we seemed be traveling a long way.  We walked for several minutes, and I was just about to ask Rampage how far out we were to go, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

I stopped as well, and that is when I heard the rustling in the woods.  It came fast, and I barely had time to react.  My two guards, the black cloaks that had been on duty that night, were not fast enough.  Blood misted through the air as they were struck, heads cleanly separated from their bodies.  I dashed away and to the side, coming in close to Rampage so that I might provide a line of sight at his back.  I wasn't sure what was happening around me, but I knew we were being attacked.

I reached up and unlatched my sword.  Rampage shifted quickly.  I could hear him spinning about, and I followed his motion, believing an attack to be inbound from his side.  That movement saved my life, though not for the reason I'd anticipated.  Rampage's sword slammed down in the place I'd been standing only a moment before, burying itself in the ground with the force of the blow.  I fell back, bringing my massive sword to bear in front of me.  I caught sight of my attackers clearly for the first time then.

Rampage stood facing me, his sword drawn, and to either side, and slightly behind me, stood two more Knights of Ethan.  I recognized them as Pride and Watcher. With Rampage, the three Knights surrounding me represented the oldest and most well decorated Knights remaining, other than Ethaniel himself.

“What is this?”  I demanded, my anger and sense of betrayal, making my voice more a growl than a human vocalization.

“You've destroyed us, Lowin Fenly.”  Rampage called, his voice equally wrought with rage.  “You've brought the Knights to the edge of ruin, and cast the kingdom into a pit from which it might never crawl its way out.”

“Worse," Came Watcher's voice from behind me.  “You've forced us all into an exile from which we will probably never return.  The Knights of Ethan, the bravest and strongest warriors of the kingdom of men, are running away in self-imposed exile.  That's disgusting, and it's all your fault.”

Their words stung.  How close were they to the truth?  How much of the kingdom's fate was my responsibility?  How much of the Knights of Ethan's diminishing honor was upon my head?  I had to be honest with myself.  The Knights would probably have been better off without Lowin Fenly as their king.  Certainly I had done them no favors over the years.

“You've been an enemy to the Knights many times.  I don't believe that has changed.  You're just an enemy wearing a different disguise.”  This time it was Pride who spoke, his face set not in an expression of anger, but one of resignation.

“Assassination?  This is the way you reclaim the honor of the Knights of Ethan?”  I asked, my rage barely contained behind my reason.  Inside me, the Fell Beast stalked the limitations of the darkness of my mind.  It could taste the conflict; sense the bitter smell of battle lying heavily upon myself and the other three Knights.  It thrived on such turmoil.

“You've left us no choice.”  Pride spoke again.  “We either act, or we lose the rest of the honor we retain.  I'll not turn my back on my honor to follow a traitor, whether he wears the crown or not.”

“What of those men you killed?  What had they done wrong?  They were serving their country, doing their duty, and you cut them down in cold blood.”  I gestured towards the two dead black cloaks.  I didn't know their real names.  I didn't even know their exact calling signs.  In the darkness I couldn't be sure which two had followed me.  They had died nameless.  It was wrong of me, but I found myself thinking, “Please, let neither of them be Liet.”  No man deserved to die as they had, but the thought that it might be Liet, troubled me to no end.

“How do you plan on getting away with this?”  I asked, stifling my worry for Liet, and worst, my worry for those back at the camp.  How many more Knights of Ethan were in on the betrayal?  What if they had someone back at camp?  Would they hurt Malice to get to me?  Would they see her as a threat to them?  She certainly wouldn't accept my death in stride.  Neither would Snow.

“You fell off a cliff while we were showing you a stock of supplies we found in the woods.  Accidents happen.”  Watcher said, his voice unworried.  If the thought of killing me was bothering him at all, he didn't show it.

“That's not a very plausible story.”  I replied bitterly, knowing that my words would do little dissuade the three men intent upon killing me.  I did not believe they had made such a decision lightly.  I, however, was not prepared to die yet.  Kaylien was still waiting for me.  If I died, no one would be left to go after her.  Malice would have, if she'd been herself.  Snow might, for my sake, but she didn't even know my daughter.  Of course, the same could be said for me.  I had spent so little time with the girl before losing her.  I would fix that.  I had to survive in order to correct that mistake.

“It's plausible enough.  Few will have a problem with you disappearing.”  Watcher spoke again.

“. . . and my guards?”  I pressed.

“They followed you off the cliff.  After all, that is their duty.”  Rampage finished.

“I won't let you kill me here.”  I told them flatly, raising the tip of my blade to the ready.  “Who else is involved in this?  How many of the others?”  There were only eleven Knights.  Snow, Malice, Ethaniel and I made up four of them.  I knew I had not betrayed myself, of course, and I hoped those other three were not involved.  Of the seven others, five of them were old blood, having been Knights for at least a hundred years.  Two of them were younger than me, and one of those was not even joined with a Fell Beast.  It boded ill that all three of those surrounding me were among the oldest of the Knights.

Rampage simply smiled, forgoing an answer.  My heart hammered in my chest.  If there were others, would they go so far as to hurt Malice and Snow?  Wouldn't that ruin their cover?  Though, if those two died, would Ethaniel really question what had happened to us?  How much did my fate truly concern the oldest Knight?

“Are you thinking about her?”  It was Watcher again.  “That cunt-weapon instructor?  The one whose brain is addled?”  He taunted.  “You don't have to worry about her.  I'll take good care of her . . . real good care of her.  The boys and I have been watching her for a while now.  Seems she's forgotten quite a bit.  You teach her how to beg yet?  'Teach her how to make a man feel good?”

“Watcher, hold your tongue.”  Pride snapped.

“No.  I want him to know that after he's dead, I'm going to have a piece of his little bitch.”  Watcher snapped back, a wicked smile on his face.  I felt the hackles on my back rise, yet I knew I had no hackles which to rise.  My hand clenched about the hilt of my weapon, and the beast within me tore at its confines.

“Kill them!”  It growled, and to my shock, I heard my voice echo the sentiment.  It tore from my throat, raw and primal.  “I don't want to kill you all, but I will.”  I said, having to force the words through my throat in a normal voice.  I could not see the faces of Pride and Watcher clearly, but Rampage looked confused at my odd, and contradicting, set of outbursts.

“You think too highly of yourself, Noble.  While you're bitch is writhing beneath me, I'll be sure to tell her you cried and begged for your life while I cut your throat.”  Watcher flashed forward, his body shifting into full speed.  There was no other signal.  As a group, my attackers fell upon me.

I roared my rage and let the world slow around me.  The other three Knights were all skilled fighters, battle hardened and powerful.  What was worse, they knew my weakness, and knew how to exploit it to their advantage.

I met Watcher first.  He came in, sword leveled to deliver a killing blow.  The Knights were not aiming for a prolonged battle, and were not fighting me one on one.  They intended to throw me off balance and kill me as fast as possible.  I couldn't allow that to happen.  Watcher was not ready for the length of my blade, or the speed with which I could bring it to bear.  I pulled the massive piece of metal through the air and brought it up between us in an arc that was fast, even in the slowed perception of super speed.  Watcher dove aside to clear the path of my blade, but Pride and Rampage were still coming fast.

Rampage was on my right side, and Pride was on my relatively unprotected left side.  I brought my sword point to the right to meet Rampage, and spun my left shoulder to meet Pride's strike.  Rampage's attack was parried, and Pride's blade was knocked wide, deflected harmlessly off my shoulder.  It was a risky move, for it brought the blade perilously close to my body, but I had no other defense on my left.

MORE.  FASTER.  KILL THEM.  The beast raged inside of me, and I was swept up in the wake of its murderous intent.  My heartbeat quickened in my chest, and the world slowed down even more around me.  Behind the chaos of speed, and the raging of the Fell Beast, a quiet voice whispered.  Be ferocious, but be thoughtful.  Strike fast, but don't lose us.  Ferocious.  Fast.  Controlled.  The voice was so quiet I could barely hear it behind the roar of the Fell Beast welling up within me.  Listening to it, though, calmed my mind.

I spun my sword, cutting low, and sweeping wide around me.  Pride was forced to jump back, or lose his legs.  Watcher had to halt his advance, and Rampage attempted to block the weapon.  His sword could not stop the weight and power of my blow, and his blade deflected uselessly away as I struck him in his upper thigh.  Blood cascaded slowly into the air, the individual droplets rising like a macabre reversed rain.  I did not slow to watch them go.

Instinct took over.  I charged the injured man.  Rampage had no time to recover from his wound before I cleaved him nearly in half.  Pride and Watcher were charging at my now exposed back, but I knew they would do that.  It didn't matter.  I was faster than them.  I spun, shifting my momentum, a task like trying to push an entire castle wall when done at the velocities I had reached.  The buffeting of the wind caused the metal of my weapon to vibrate fiercely, a sensation I could feel all the way up my arm.  The bones in my arm, incredibly strong as they were, creaked with the pressure of my exertion.  The only thing that kept them from exploding into fragments, was the tight wrapping of my corded muscles, taunt as steel as they strove to keep my blade on course.

Watcher tried desperately to shift his stance from attack to defense as I spun, to their eyes, impossibly fast, my sword diving to attack, but he was too committed to his own strike.  His blade stayed out in front of him, but his forward momentum and the length of my own weapon were too much.  He skewered himself, the length of fine steel passing through his upper chest, just below his neck.  I began to tear it free even before his body had come to a stop on its fatal course.  Pride was still coming, and his blade was aimed for my heart.

My arm flexed hard, drawing in the massive span of sharpened metal that was my unorthodox sword.  The blade wavered in the air, bending and twisting against the forces of motion being applied to it.  Watcher's body flew away.  I felt something in my arm creak, and a sharp pain lanced through my forearm.  I recognized the sensation of bone shattering, even if there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

My sword came up firmly between Pride and me.  Metal struck metal, and Pride's attack deflected harmlessly aside.  The other Knight fell back, now the only other living fighter in the clearing.  The world lurched back to normal speed.  Rage burned in the back of my mind, spewing forth from the darkness inside of me.  The bones in my arm snapped and groaned as they grew back together.

“We weren't supposed to come to this!”  Pride yelled.  His deep brown hair hung long about his shoulders, limp and tired, much like the face of the man who it crowned.  His limbs, Fell Beast arms and legs, were scaled, another variety of the beasts I had never personally encountered.  I looked at Pride, standing across from me, miserable, tired, and worry-worn, and my anger began to burn off.  He was just a man.  A man pressed to his limits.

“We were honored everywhere, Noble.  The Knights of Ethan, people spoke that title in awe and respect.  Now look at us.”  Pride swung his sword in an arc, taking in the corpses, unmoving, and laying in filth, deep in an unknown portion of the wood.  “This is how far we've fallen because of your choices.”  Pride threw his sword down.

I let my weapon point fall.  “It never should have come to this, Pride.  Knight should have never fought Knight.”

Pride laughed, and it was a sound like a madman lost in the dark.  Outlined by the moon, he was a terrifying sight to see, some mindless creature cackling into the silver light of the moon as though he might frighten it with the fervor of his outburst.

“You slew us first, Noble.”  He said, when his bout of laughter had finally subsided.  “You came for us first.  We were doing the king's work when you first began killing our brothers.”

“I just did what I had to do.  I did what was right.  Sometimes that meant . . .” I began, but Pride cut me off.

“That meant betraying those who'd put a trust in you.  Even Lucidil, who had betrayed us . . . you killed him as well.  Noble," Pride spat the name I'd been given by the former king.  “you are a poison to everyone and everything that trusts in you.”

The words struck hard, cutting deeper than any sword could.  How many people had died because of me?  How many had I killed, and how many of my loved ones had suffered because of my presence?  It was easy for me to see the pain I experienced, but I did not often take time to consider the pain inflicted on those around me.  For all the good I had tried to do, in the end, the kingdom was left in ruins and many decent people were dead.  Wisp was dead.  Kaylien was lost.  Kye was dead.  Brutal, dead at my own hands.  Liet, his humanity was stripped away from him.  The list could go on and on.  I had killed so many, and didn't even know all of their names.

Kaylien.  I stiffened my shoulders, and set my jaw.  I had done terrible things, but I could not stop.  I would get my daughter back, and I would have to continue to fight until I accomplished that end.  What did that make me?  I had become a monster, but I knew that I could not stop.

“I'll make no more excuses.  I've done terrible things, but I'm far from finished.  I have business left to attend.  You don't have to come along.  I never asked anyone to follow me.  Those who came with me have done so because they wanted to.  If you don't want to follow me, then don't.  Go back to being what you were before.”  I kept my voice calm and impassive, though I felt neither of those things.

“. . . what I was before?”  Pride laughed again, this time a sad, resigned sound.  “We can never go back, Noble.  There is no going back.  It's over for me.”

He exploded forward, his claws coming up to strike.  The motion was so fast that I barely had time to react.  I did not need long, however.  I was faster than he was.  The bones in my arm were mostly healed, even if they still needed time to firm up entirely.  They were repaired well enough to accomplish what was necessary.  I snapped my sword up, ripping it through the air before me.  Pride didn't even flinch as the blade tore through his body.  His form shattered in the darkness, the two separate, but still moving pieces, rolling away into the forest at my back.  I stood alone in the clearing.  The woods were silent, but for the dance of the wind through skeletal trees, and the slow, steady drip of blood from my sword to the ground.

Drip.

I had murdered them all.  Three more names to add to the list of those I'd struck down with my own sword.  I could fool myself and call them evil, and perhaps they had contained their own evils, I thought, remembering Watcher's terrible threats, but in the end they were just men.  We were all evil . . . men.  We lived as we felt we had to, and did the things that we deemed necessary to continue our existence from day to day.

Drip.

They had believed that killing me would allow the Knights of Ethan to return to a state of honor and prosperity.  They had believed that by ending my life, the kingdom would be a better place.  Who was I to say that they were wrong?  Certainly many others had felt much the same.  They had fought and died for what they believed in.  They were my enemies, but they were no less noble for that.

Drip.

I bent down and cleaned my sword point on the edge of Rampage's cloak.  The fabric was destroyed, not salvageable.  Perhaps it was a disservice to him to do so, but I needed to clean my weapon.  I didn't want it to rust.  I still had a long way to travel with that blade, I knew.  The sword clean, I replaced it in my scabbard.

I moved to Watcher's body.  I unfastened his cloak from his broken form before removing my own garment, and throwing it over him.  The shifting fabric was still intact.  My sword strike had only slightly damaged the garment.  It could be stitched.  I threw the cloak about my shoulders, and felt as though I were being swallowed up in familiarity.  It was a ghoulish thing to do, robbing the dead, but I was tired of the blue cloak of a king.

After redressing myself, I went to the bodies of the two fallen black cloaks.  I didn't recognize their faces.  I breathed a bitter sigh of relief.  At least Liet was still alive.  I had no right to find solace in that information, but I did, just the same.  I should have known their names, or at least their Black Patch Brigade designations, but I did not.  It was not generally necessary to refer to them individually, and it was only when directly ordering them to do something outside of their normal duties that their full names were needed.  I stepped away from their bodies.

I would leave them all unburied.  I didn't have the equipment to do a proper job, nor did I have the time.

I looked to the sky to reorient myself, and began the trip back to camp.  I moved at a run.  There was a persistent pressure in my chest as I moved, and I felt a cold line of dampness running down my face.  I reached up with my only hand and wiped at the stubborn moisture falling from my eyes.  That cold wind, I told myself, always made the eyes water.

Camp waited for me.  I feared that I would get there and find that my betrayal had been complete.  I feared that I would find Malice and Snow killed, and the other Knights rallying together to dispatch the rest of the black cloaks.  What would I do then?  I knew I would kill them.  At least, I would try.  It would be smarter to run, but I couldn't do that if they'd killed Snow and Malice.  I would have to avenge those two.  I would kill all those who betrayed me, all of those who hurt the ones I loved.  It was empty, but it was all I had.

KILL THEM ALL.  The words echoed through my body, and I had to fight back the Fell Beast that welled up inside me.  I didn't really know what I would find when I got back to camp.  It was too early to jump to conclusions.  I needed to remain calm, remain Lowin Fenly.  Snow and Malice had to be alright.  They had to be.

The forest flew by around me, a continuous gray-blue blur under the light of the moon.  I charged back into camp, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword even as I came to a stop amidst the horde of sleeping figures.  The camp was still.  Malice was lying where I'd left her.  I ran to her side, my eyes looking for the telltale signs of breathing.  Her chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I turned about, scanning the clearing in which we'd set up camp.  Some few of the black cloaks watched me, confused.  I'd entered camp past their sentries, which they'd seen, but I did not have guards with me.  They knew I should have had guards with me, but they were unable to question me directly, such was the nature of the magic binding them.  I would deal with that situation later.

I looked for the other Knights of Ethan.  I couldn't see any of them, which was to be expected.  The rest of them should have been out on watch, since they did not need to sleep.  Everything was eerily quiet.  It seemed almost as if the events that had taken place in the woods had just been my imagination.  If it wasn't for the shifting black fabric I was wearing, I might have believed myself suffering from a particularly vivid dream.  I had expected to come back to find the camp in chaos, Malice dead, and Snow with her.  I had not wanted to find such a sight, but I found myself at a loss as I looked upon the almost serene vision before me.

I sat down at Malice's side, carefully so as not to wake her, and tried to decide what I would do next.  I had killed the three traitors, but were there others amidst the group?  I knew the black cloaks couldn't be subverted, but there were still the four other Knights.  That thought struck a chord inside me.  Only eight Knights of Ethan still remained, if I counted Malice, Snow, Ethaniel and me.  I had just killed almost a third of our remaining number.  What of the other four?  Silver, Cleave, Tower and Fenrick Wexol.  Silver and Cleave were old blood, though not as old as Malice, who, other than Ethaniel, was now the oldest of the remaining Knights.  Tower was relatively fresh to his Fell Beast limbs, and Fen had neither been given a name, nor taken the Fell Beast additions.  There had been much talk of taking him out to the ice lands to make him a more complete Knight, but with our reduced numbers, and the fact that very few still retained the knowledge of the process, it had never happened.

In a way, I felt bad for Fen.  He did not fit in with the common soldiers because of his black eyes, and he did not fit in with the other Knights, because he was, to them, still a trainee.  Of course, that didn't mean he'd necessarily been excluded from any plotting.  Who could I afford to trust?  Malice, I had complete confidence in.  I trusted her with my life.  I wanted to trust Snow, but by the same token, she had ever been faithful to the Knights.  She'd said she sided with me over Ethaniel, but would she side with me over her brethren in the Knights?  Ethaniel, he was an unknown quantity.  He had stood by me through all the roughest times, and had been in a prime position to destroy me on several occasions and never acted upon it.  He had proven himself reliable again and again, but he was also acting strangely.  Could I still trust the old Knight?  I would need to be wary.  Until that evening, I would never have second guessed any of the Knights of Ethan.  I had believed each of them was loyal to the grave.

I held a quiet watch through the dark, waiting for the dawn.  It seemed the light would never come.  When the first light of morning finally touched the horizon, Snow returned first from her scouting.  She drifted silently through camp, wearing a comfortable smile.  I stood up as she approached.  I'd had much time to think through the night, and I had decided what I was going to do.

“Snow," I greeted the white-furred Knight as she drew near.  “I want you to gather Silver, Cleave, Tower, and Fen.  I need to speak with them all before we leave this morning.”  There must have been something in my face that betrayed the importance of the situation, because Snow's easy smile fell away.  Her expression was all business as she bowed tightly, and spun around to gather the others.  She didn't say so much as a word.  My suspicion crept up on me.  Did she know what was going on?  Did that mean she was a part of what had transpired?  No, I was being paranoid.  She would not have approached me with such an easy smile if she had known.

I crouched down to wake Malice.

“Malice," I said, shaking her arm.  She jumped awake, staring at me confusedly.

“Huh?”  She said, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

“It's time to wake up, Malice.”  I told her.

Her face took on a sour expression.  “I don't like it when you call me that.  My name's Laouna.”  She complained groggily.  I hadn't realized I had made that slip until she reprimanded me.  She knew we'd called her Malice, but she didn't identify with it.  I was looking for companionship, I knew, and in my time of need, it had been Malice I had wanted to be there for me.  Laouna was loyal, but Malice would know what I should do.  Though they were one and the same, Laouna did not have the same insight that Malice had.  I missed my old friend and lover keenly at that moment.

“I'm sorry Laouna, but this is important.  All the Knights of Ethan are meeting this morning, except for Ethaniel, because he's not here.”  I told her, as she went to work at rolling her bedroll.

“. . . and you want me there?”  She asked, stopping in her packing process to look at me.  “What happened to your normal cloak?”

“I thought you'd want to be there.  I've retired the blue cloak.”  I told her.

“If it's important, then I do want to be there.”  She said, beaming because she'd been invited to a private meeting personally.  I was primarily inviting her because she was a Knight of Ethan, whether she remembered that part of her life or not, and it wouldn't be right to leave her out of the matter I was about to breach.

Malice's expression turned sour.  “I like the blue cloak better.”

“I don't.”  I replied.

She huffed.  “Suit yourself, but a king shouldn't dress in common clothes.”

“Of course.”  I nodded.  That had been exactly my point.  I was done playing the part of king.  The Black Patch Brigade I couldn't be rid of, but I would have the other Knights of Ethan know that I was done with the charade.

Laouna looked confused, but after a moment she shrugged.  “At least we match now.”  She said, strapping her repacked belongings on her back, and throwing the cloak on above them.

“Indeed.”  I replied, distractedly.  We began walking towards the edge of camp.  Two black cloaks fell in behind us.  Liet and another that I had seen on the morning guard shift many times.  Their eyes burned with that bestial rage that lay in the eyes of all black cloaks, but other than that they seemed unconcerned that two of their numbers were missing.

“Liet,” I addressed my old friend.  For a moment I thought he was not going to respond to me.  I had not talked to him as much recently, though I had still made the attempt to greet him every morning.  It had been a long time since I'd ordered him to respond to the name “Liet.”  To my surprise his eyes snapped to mine, letting me know that he was listening.

“My two guards from last night were killed protecting me.”  I said, for the time for secrecy was past.  They would need to be replaced.  I didn't feel inclined to mention how quickly they'd died.  They would have fought for me if given the chance, and I believed that was enough.

“As was their duty, my King.”  Liet said, his eyes never flickering.  I could have as easily said, “I used the last of the soap last night.” and not gotten any less of a response.

I felt Malice stiffen at my side.  Suddenly she was tugging at the side of my cloak to get my attention.  I looked to her.

“What happened last night, Lowin?”  She asked, her eyes were full of concern.

“We'll discuss that once all the Knights have gathered, but don't worry.  I am fine.”  I tried to make my voice as soothing as possible, but Malice did not look particularly convinced.  If anything, she looked angry that she was being made to wait for further information.  I probably should have spoken to her separately, but I did not want to go through the details of the night's events any more than I had to.

“Liet, make sure the night watch is adjusted.  Also, if any of your men wish to offer words of respect to those fallen, we can have a service for those who've passed.”  I knew the words would fall on deaf ears, but I would not allow the death of those guardsmen to go by with no notice.  They had died in service, whether it was a magically imposed service or not.  Their deaths weighed heavily upon me, perhaps even more so since I'd felt so much relief when it had been them, and not Liet who was dead.  I should have known Liet wasn't amongst them, since he was typically first shift, but not knowing for certain had been terrible.  The relief at seeing that none of the dead men were Liet had been a bittersweet emotional cacophony that I would have preferred to not experience.

“That will not be necessary, my King.”  Liet said, his voice unwavering.  I was unsurprised, but disappointed just the same.

We reached the edge of the camp in short order.  The black cloaks were mostly awake, their gear being stowed and their equipment readied for another long day on the march.  As they prepared, they fell in together, grouping up, and interacting almost entirely without vocal communication.  They were naught but a horde of angry eyes, and barely restrained aggression, falling in at my back.  It was like having a ravenous beast on a chain just behind you.  I knew how long the chain was, and that so long as I stayed the proper distance away I was safe, but there was always that fear that the chain might break, or shift.  What then?  What would happen when the black cloaks broke free from their magical bindings?  Ethaniel had assured me that could never happen, but life, I'd noticed, rarely dealt in certainties.  There was always an exception.  Always.

Snow appeared amidst the trees, four other shapes following her, like ghosts drifting through the woods.  I could tell Tower from the others, for he was tall.  He'd been nearly seven feet tall before joining with the Fell Beast, and had gained another foot from that process.  He was massive and imposing, though every time I'd talked with him he had been nothing if not shy, and reserved.  His height had made him an outsider, and his joining with the Knight's had finally given him a place to fit in, but some things never changed.  He would carry the stigma of his awkward youth with him for the rest of his days.

Silver, too, was easy to identify.  She carried a spear, and not a sword like most of the other Knights.  She was adept with the weapon, and could soundly dispatch most of her brethren if necessary.  The weapon assured that she would always stick out in a crowd, and that was before one even got a close look at her.  Beneath her hood, she wore her hair shaved to the scalp, but for a narrow strip down the center of her head, which was nearly shoulder length.  She wore that swept to one side.  It was said to be a style common amongst her people, but it was not one with which I was familiar.

Having recognized those two, it was easy enough to tell the other two figures apart.  The shorter figure was Fen.  Without the added height boost from the legs of the Fell Beast, he seemed tiny amidst the other Knights.  He was unremarkable, but for his shockingly dark hair.  It was like a starless night had settled on his head, shimmering in its depthlessness.

That left Cleave.  Cleave was a Knight of exceptional raw power.  He'd earned his name by splitting a large rock in half with no more than his sword and the force of his will.  The blade had been ruined, but it had been enough to earn him his title, and a healthy dose of respect from his fellows.

Malice had told me, before she'd lost her memory, that I reminded her of Cleave.  His technique with a weapon was poor, and he compensated with brute strength.  That had been long ago, while I was still training at Fell Rock.  My technique had improved over the years, though I had never reached the finesse of either Snow or Malice.  They were fighters of a skill unparalleled by any other.  I'd had little personal interaction with Cleave over the years, but had always felt a distant kinship with the man.

Which of the four, I wondered, could I allow myself to trust?  I hoped that I would soon find out.  There was little I could do but confront them with what had happened, and try to determine whether or not they'd played any part in it.  I wasn't sure what I was about to get myself into, but I knew there existed a chance that the situation could get dangerous.  If all four of the others had been in on the previous night's incident, I could be placing myself and my friends in a perilous situation.  I just hoped Snow and Malice would be ready if anything went badly.

I looked at Snow, and wondered again if I could trust the white-furred Knight of Ethan.  I hoped so.  I didn't believe I could defeat her in a one-on-one fight, and the thought of having to fight her made my stomach lurch for other reasons as well.  She was one of few I could count as a friend.  The other Knights drew up around me.  A heavy tension hung in the air.  Everyone was aware that something of importance was about to happen.  All eyes lay upon on the shifting black fabric I wore.  That, they knew, was a signal that something was amiss.

“Rampage, Pride and Watcher are dead.  I killed them last night.”  I began.  The normally calm faced Knights reacted as a group, their ranges of expressions running the gambit between shock, anger, and finally settling on confusion.  As I spoke, I noted that Cleave looked away from me, his eyes refusing to settle on mine.  Snow also looked uncomfortable.  There were questions, I could see them in the eyes watching me, but they were held back by a surprising show of restraint.  I went on.

“Rampage came to me last night and told me that he had found something that I needed to see.  He led me, and two of my guards, far out into the woods, where Pride and Watcher lay in wait.  They fell upon my guards and me in the dark.  Both of the black cloaks were killed, but I survived the initial attack, at which time I confronted Rampage and the others.

“They told me they were going to kill me because I had brought dishonor upon the Knights, and because I was a poison to those around me.” I felt Malice's hand on my shoulder, but I shrugged it off.  The other Knights, all of them, Snow included, were no longer meeting my eyes.  What did that mean?  A deep fury burned inside of me.

“I'm done with this.”  I spat the words in anger.  “I'm done killing other Knights.  Do you hear me?!” I yelled at them.  No eyes came up to meet mine.  “If this is not your ideal life, go find your own!  If you don't want to be here, then by all that is wrong with the world, get as far away from me as you can.  I'm tired of having to kill you.

“How many of you knew what Rampage and the others intended to do?”  I tried to calm my voice, but the growling rage was still crawling up the back of my throat.

“Cleave?  What of you?  Did you know what was going to happen last night?  Were you part of their conspiracy?”  I demanded of the powerful Knight.  He had looked away first.  He stood in silence.  It seemed the entire world was silent.

“Damn it, answer me Cleave!  Did you know what was going to happen last night?!”  My hand twitched, the claws shifting between sharp and dull, a reaction to my fluctuating control of my emotions.  What would I do if he said yes?  What would I do?

He looked up, and there was pain in his eyes, a deep and terrible pain that stemmed from somewhere inside of him.  I had my answer before I had his words.

“Yes.”  He said, his voice the growl of a Knight who had 'the voice.'  His shoulders seemed to slump.  “I knew what they intended, though I told them I would take no part in treason.”

“You knew, and you did not tell me?  You let me walk right into death?”  I hadn't expected a confession.  It took me completely by surprise.  I had anticipated an enraged confrontation in which he denied everything.  He had said “yes,” and I had not struck him down.  Though every impulse in my body demanded that I do so.  Perhaps it was that sadness in his eyes that held me at bay.

“I knew, and I did not tell you.”  Cleave said.  “I listened to Pride talk.  He remembered the days under the old king so clearly.  Things were better then.  There were so many of us, and even if the people were afraid of us, most of them at least respected what we were.  The kingdom respected the Knights of Ethan.  We lost that, and Pride . . . we, we blamed you.  I refused to strike out against you, but I was willing to let the others do what they wanted to.  I took the coward's path.  I spoke out for neither side, and therefore betrayed both.”

I watched his eyes.  They were full of pain and fear.  In that moment, he knew that I was going to kill him.  I wasn't going to do so, but he believed it with every ounce of his being.  He did not draw his weapon, or even move his hand to its hilt.  He stood their facing me, believing that I was about to deliver his death, and he did not so much as move.

“Get your gear and go back to Kreo, Cleave.  You don't belong here.”  I told him, looking away from him.  It wasn't that he had stared me down, but that I didn't wish to look into the eyes of betrayal and weakness any longer.  Cleave was dead to me.

“. . . but I am a king's man.  If I leave that would be treason.”  He stammered over the words as he spoke.

“I am not your king.  Get your gear and go back to Kreo.  I'm sure Lord Lheec will find a place for you there.  Tell him you betrayed me, and he'll probably throw you a banquet.”  The words were bitter, but true.

“I just . . .” He began, but I cut him off.

“Go.”  I said firmly.  He did not speak again.  I next turned my attention to Silver.  Her eyes were still downcast.  Silver, Tower, Fen and even Snow, hung their heads.  Did they all know the truth?  Did even Snow know the truth?  Would I have to send her away as well?

“Silver, did you know about the attempt on my life?”  I asked the woman with the strange hair.  She brought her face up, and her eyes met mine.  Her eyes were coated in a layer of moisture, though her face was firm.

“I had heard them speak out against you, but I thought it was meaningless words.  I told them they were foolish, and that it wasn't your fault things were the way they were.  I knew they hated you, but I refused to let myself believe they would ever act upon it.” She said, her voice firm, only lightly underlined by a wavering.

“So you knew they bore me malice, but said nothing?”  I asked.  My anger was still burning, but my confrontation with Cleave had taken the sting out of it.  In the end, he had been just a broken soldier, just a man trying to find the easiest path, even if it was a damned path.

“I knew, and I never said anything, but Noble, I've always stood behind you.  I've always believed in you.  I fought near you in the great battle against the Hungering, the one where you felled the black drakes.  I know you're a good person, and I do not want to serve Lheec.  I would never intentionally betray you.  I just didn't want to believe the worst of the brothers I'd served with for so long.”  There was a pleading in her voice, but it was not to be confused with begging.  She was a strong warrior.  It would be a great loss if she wasn't fighting at my side any longer.

“You can stay or go as you please, but if you stay, I expect you to treat me as you would a friend, and let me know when you over hear something that could pose a threat.  Don't give me reason to confront you like this again.” I finally said.  It wasn't an easy decision, but I hoped it was the right one.  I did not want to be rid of all my supporters.  I feared being alone, just Malice and I, with all the frightening members of the Black Patch Brigade.

I turned to the massive form of Tower.

“Tower?”  I asked, knowing that it would be unnecessary to repeat the question again.

“Never heard any planning, King Noble.  Knew they said some mean spirited things, but I thought they were just mean.  Wanted no part of it, sir, King Noble.”  Tower spoke quietly, only meeting my eyes for a moment.  I could feel the honesty in his words.  He wasn't looking away because he was being dishonest, but because it was in his nature.  I'd heard he was a demon on the battlefield, but I'd never seen him fight.  It was hard to imagine the shy, giant warrior as fierce and terrible, even though he towered above all others.

“Alright, Tower.  It is your decision whether to stay or go.”  I told him, for if he did not wish to stay, I did not want him to.

“I'll stay, if it pleases.  I never liked Kreo.  I prefer to be out here.”  He gestured at the sky and trees with his hands, and then lapsed back into silence.

“Good.”  I replied, before turning my eyes to Fenrick Wexol.  I was staving off speaking with Snow as long as possible.  I didn't want to hear what she had to say.

“Fen, what about you?”  I asked him.

The youngest Knight jumped when I called his name.  “They never really spoke with me.  I swear I didn't know anything about what was happening, King Noble.  I don't want to go back to Kreo.  I want to keep fighting with you, and Tower, and the others.”  His words rushed out, like a stream cutting through a narrow canyon.

“Then you can stay, Fen.  It is your choice.”  I told him, before turning my eyes on Snow.  I took a deep breath to steady myself before asking the question I feared to ask.

“Snow, where do you stand?”  I sounded the words I feared to give voice to.  I had trusted her so many times, and put both Malice and my life in her hands.  What would show through for that trust?

Snow did not meet my eyes.  “I'd heard them talk.  Rampage came to me, and asked me if I would back you if such a situation arose, and I told him that I would.  He spoke no more of it around me, but I think I knew what he was going to do, and I knew that Pride and Watcher would help him.”

It felt as though someone was clenching a fist around my heart.  Snow had known, and she had not told me.  Other than Malice, I had trusted no one more than her.

“You knew, and yet you did not tell me?  How long have you known?”  I asked, my words coming out far quieter than I would have liked.

“A little over a month, now, I have suspected.  When it was announced that we would be leaving Kreo, that was the last time I spoke to Rampage on it, and that is when I told him I would support you.  I knew it was only a matter of time before he made his attempt.”  Her voice was barely a wisp of its normal exuberance.

I turned my eyes from her.  “Snow, take your things and return to Kreo.  A skilled sword master such as yourself will have no trouble finding a place there.”

I heard a sharp intake of breath from Laouna, and felt her hand upon my arm again.

“Lowin, no.”  I heard her say softly.  “You can't send Snow away.  She's my friend, and she's teaching. . .”

I pushed her hand away.  “She's not your friend.  She's not my friend.”

“Noble, please. . .”  It was Snow this time.  She'd fallen to one knee.  “I know I should have told you, but Rampage was . . . he was my lover for many years.  I didn't want to see him die.  I refused to let myself believe he would ever act upon his words . . . he was always so boastful.  I just didn't want to interfere. . .”

“Do you know what would have happened to Laouna if I had died?!”  I demanded, and the words surprised me.  For the first time, without thinking about it, I came to the center of my anger, the reason for all the rage I was feeling.  “Do you know what Watcher would have done?  Do you know what will happen to my daughter if I die?  Do you understand any of that?”  I drew my sword in one fell motion and smashed it into the ground with such force that it sunk several inches into the earth.  I roared into the sky with the rage that filled me, trying to vent some of it before it exploded in a murderous lust that I could not control.

I felt as though I was standing in the midst of a great fire, the flames licking at the edges of my being, attempting devour all that was left of Lowin Fenly.

“I have fought so long to get here.  So little remains, and even now you betray me.  What have I done to you, Snow, that warrants such a betrayal of trust?”  I wanted her to meet my eyes, to tell me why she would turn her back on me.  She finally did, and her face was streaked with tears.  I had never seen Snow cry before.

“Please don't make her cry anymore, Lowin.”  I heard a soft voice from beside me.  It was Malice, and she was crying as well, her eyes moist, and tears streaking her face.

“Noble, I will never betray your trust again.  If you give me another chance, I will prove my worth to you.”  Snow pleaded.  “If you allow me to follow you, I will make you proud to have me as a companion once more.”  She bowed further, until her forehead was touching the ground, her noble shoulders hunched over in supplication.

“Get up.”  I ordered, embarrassed by her gesture.  I took no joy in seeing her bent over like that.  Snow, even if she'd betrayed my trust, was too honorable a warrior to ever bow in such a fashion to anyone.  “You can stay if that's what you want, but don't you ever bow to anyone like that again.  Do you hear me?”

Snow got to her feet, and bowed her head lightly, before meeting my eyes again.  Her face was composed, though tears still ran streaks down her face.  The journey had only begun, and already it was wrought with betrayal and violence.  That boded ill for the future.  I found myself cast adrift from the Knights of Ethan once more, as though I was joining with the Broken Swords, Lucidil's band of rebels, all over again.

“Prepare for the road.”  I called.  “We need to get moving if we're to stay on schedule.”  The camp resumed its course, the black cloaks staying stoic and disinterested in the events about them, and the few remaining Knights of Ethan going about their business, all looking a little uncomfortable after the confrontation.  I felt a pressure on my arm again.

“Thank you.”  I turned and saw that it was Laouna, still at my side.  “She is like my sister.  Sometimes I get angry at her, and sometimes she's mean, but I love her.”

I sighed heavily, and tore my sword from the ground.  “I know, but she has a lot to prove before I can trust her fully again.”

“She'll do it.  Someday you'll tell everyone about how great she is because Snow is a good person.”  The green-eyed girl said with vigor.  I could tell from the gleam in her eyes that she believed what she was saying.

I wasn't as certain.  I only hoped I had not made a terrible mistake by allowing her to stay.  If she had once been Rampage's lover, perhaps she still harbored a soft spot for his ideals.  It was a troubling thought, and one that I would have preferred not to have.  She had, I reminded myself, told Rampage she would back me.  I should be able to take solace in that knowledge, but it was overshadowed by the fact that she had never warned me.

Trust, once lost, was difficult to rebuild.

We were four days outside of the port city of Risthis when Ethaniel finally found us again.  I had begun to worry about him, or more pointedly, I'd begun to worry about his absence.  The betrayal of the other Knights still lay heavily upon me, and it was not a distant stretch of the imagination to place Ethaniel at the root of their betrayal.  His tardiness did little to alleviate any such concerns.

“I expected you sooner.”  I told him when he finally returned.  For a moment a hunted look passed over his face, and then it fled, to be replaced by the calm indifference his features normally wore.

“Things did not go as anticipated in Kreo.  Lord Lheec's forward scout arrived while I was still there.  Apparently he'd had men camped inside the borders.  He was already attempting to take over the city when I left.”  The corners of Ethaniel's mouth went up almost imperceptibly.  “He was having a good deal of trouble when last I saw him.  The people have rallied around their king, it seems.”

Even I couldn't help but smile at that.  Things had worked out much as I'd hoped they would.  The longer the people of Kreo tied up Lheec, the better it would be for my men and me.  If Ethaniel had reached us again safely, it stood to reason we'd have enough time to get to Risthis, board our ships, and leave before news of the change of power ever reached them.  If it was discovered that I was no longer the active king, it could make our business in Risthis far more difficult.

“I passed Cleave on the road here.”  Ethaniel said, breaking my train of thought.

I locked eyes with the older Knight.  I'd known he would need to know of the events that transpired, as there was no way to keep it from him.  I wasn't certain how he would take the news of the betrayal.  Part of my uncertainty was due to the deaths of his men, and part of it was due to the nagging question of his loyalty, or lack thereof.

“I did what was necessary.”  I answered whatever accusation might lay behind his words as cryptically as possible.  I wasn't sure how much he knew, and I didn't want to get into any details until I was certain that all information had been presented accurately.

To my surprise, Ethaniel nodded.  “I agree.  You handled the situation well. Even Cleave agreed to that before I sent him on his way.”

I nodded, still feeling some guilt about discarding the Knight.  I'd let Snow stay, perhaps I should have offered the same to Cleave?  By casting him aside, I'd done no favor to his honor.

“I believe he was relieved to be going back to Kreo.  He was in high spirits when I met him on the road.”  Ethaniel added, after a moment of silence passed between us.

“Oh?”  I raised an eyebrow.  I wondered whether Ethaniel was telling me that merely to ease my worries, or because it was true.  It was probably true.  Ethaniel seldom said things out of any sense of sympathy.

“Yes, we enjoyed a meal together, and split on good terms.  Cleave was always, for lack of a better way to put it, a coward.”  Ethaniel said with a sigh.  “He's strong, and dangerous, but he never liked a situation that entailed risk.  He always put others between himself and danger, and though he fought hard when backed into a corner, he's only alive today because he let many others die in his place.”

I was shocked to hear Ethaniel speak of one of his men in such a light.  I'd never heard him say anything unflattering about the Knights of Ethan, or their service to the king.

“Why didn't you do something about him sooner?”  I asked, still incredulous that we were having such a conversation.

“He was a Knight, and even as a coward he was still worth several normal men on the battlefield.  He followed his orders well enough, and since I knew his weaknesses, I could make sure not to place in him in positions where they would dramatically affect his performance.  A man who fears only for himself does not fight at his best.  I knew that about him.”  Ethaniel said with a shrug.

“The death of the others doesn't bother you?”  I asked hesitantly.

The old Knight shifted his stance, and looked away from me.  His black eyes became distant, as though watching something far removed.  I knew that look.  I'd seen it many times before on those who'd survived hard lives.  It was the look of someone gazing back over the years, a mix of sweet memory, and bitter shadows.

“They were good men, but they lost sight of why we fight.  I will miss their companionship, and their skills on the battlefield, but they chose their fate.  They made a challenge they were not ready to answer.  As a soldier, that's a mistake you should never make.”  There was no bitterness or anger in Ethaniel's voice.  For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt as though I was talking to the old Ethaniel, the one I'd first met so many years before.

It was time to ask the question I didn't want to ask, but it was only fair, since I'd asked the others.  I took a few breaths to calm myself.  I couldn't be certain how Ethaniel would respond.  He was calm at that moment, but I knew that terrible rage and darkness was still there inside of him.  I needed only to look at the gray eyes on his forehead to confirm that.

“Ethaniel, did you know that the others were conspiring against me?”  I finally got the words out, and to my surprise, my voice was even and firm.  I wondered where that strength in my voice came from.  Certainly I did not feel it inside.

Ethaniel looked at me, his two sets of eyes each conveying a separate set of emotions, but both had the old Knight's incredible intellect buried beneath them.  For all that he was a warrior at heart, Ethaniel had lived a long life, and he'd put his mind to good use over the years.  His reasoning and his intelligence were almost as dangerous as his sword and claw.  I felt that intellect levied at me in that moment.

“The other Knight's would not talk to me about such things.  They know where my support lies, and they know what sort of reaction such talk would get from me.  So, to answer your question- no, they did not tell me of their plans, or even of their dissatisfaction with you as a king.  Even when I told them we would be leaving Kreo, not one of them opened their mouth in protest.”  A look of anger passed over his features, but it fled in a moment, replaced by the sadness that had filled Ethaniel's black eyes for as long as I could remember.

“I was their leader, Noble, far longer than you were.  I know you feel guilty for killing them, and that the burden of your decisions weighs heavy upon your shoulders, but I feel that weight as well.  I should have seen all of this coming.  My men should have been able to come to me with their problems, so that they could be discussed honorably, and handled without the need to shed the blood of our fellows.

“You think you have failed, King Noble, but it is I, First Knight of Ethan, that has failed this time.  If I was more myself, more the man I started out to be, these events may not have transpired.”

To hear Ethaniel speak in such a manner terrified me.  I was seeing a side of the old warrior I had never seen before.  Looking at him, his shoulders hunched, as though the wings upon them were too heavy to bear, his eyes downcast, it was like looking at a defeated foe about to collapse upon the battlefield.  In that moment, I saw all the weight of the years upon the back of the old Knight, and I was starkly terrified that I might need to bear such a burden myself.  How heavy would that burden be in a life time?  In two life times?  A hundred?

“Those men are dead because they didn't have enough faith in their leaders, and it was my job to place that faith there.”  Ethaniel said at last.

“No, those men died because they made bad choices, Ethaniel.”  I told him, suddenly feeling the need to bolster the seemingly fallen Knight, maybe for my own sake as much as his.  “You told me that yourself.  They carved their own paths.”

He looked at me then, as if just noticing that I was there, as though he'd forgotten I still remained at his side.  “Yes, choices . . . we've all had to make some hard choices recently . . . bad choices.”  His voice trailed off, and his black eyes went distant.  His gray, smoke-filled eyes, however, seemed to bore into me.  They burned with malignant purpose.

“Ethaniel?”  I asked, his eyes snapped back into focus.  He straightened his shoulders.

“What's done is done.  We need to get to Risthis and get on the ocean.  The road, whether it be water or land, is just the change we need.  It will make us all feel more like our old selves again.”  Ethaniel said.  He seemed to be trying to convince himself as much as me.

“I hope so.”  I replied.  I had carried the same hope about the entire trip.  So far, it hadn't held true.

All told, it took is slightly more than two weeks to reach the port city of Risthis after leaving Kreo.   Telistera, the silver-eyed woman from across the sea, had made Risthis her home following my coronation.  She had taken it as her personal task to craft ships stout enough to survive the seas, and the dangers that existed beneath and above them.   No other had been so qualified for the job, so I had eagerly allowed her the resources she requested, though I held many concerns for Telistera's health.  She was strong, and an able fighter, magically enhanced by a technique peculiar to her people.  She had been instrumental in the fight against the Hungering, offering an insight that only someone who had lived through an invasion of their kind may have offered, however she was also nearing the end of her life span.

The magic that had given her amazing strength and stamina, and made her one of the most honored warriors of her people, had also taken most of her natural life span.  I knew when I gave her the task of building my ships that it might be the last task she completed.  She refused to say how much longer she had, but I knew enough of her kind, from her own stories, to know that her years were dwindling.  In those years that I'd known her, she had proven herself a good associate, and if I'd had the time to spend with her, I probably would have counted her among my very few friends.

I had only been able to visit Risthis once during the course of my time as king, and she had few opportunities to visit the castle.  Her work on the ships occupied most of her time.  My visit, two years before, had proven a strong reaffirmation that I had picked the right individual for the task at hand.  The ships were coming along well, untraditional, but obviously designed with many considerations that a shipwright who had never tried to sail the Great Salt Seep would have overlooked.  I only hoped that the ships would be finished, and that Telistera would be ready to sail when we arrived.

My hunting party arrived at the gates of Risthis slightly after midday to find them closed and armed men nested along the walls.  There had been no such security on my last visit, and immediately my suspicions were peeked.

“Risthis," I called up the wall to the men above the gate.  “Open your gates and allow your king entry.”

“Stand down,” One of the men atop the wall yelled.  “We have received word from the capital that you have been disposed, and that the king is none other than King Lheec.  We are ordered to keep these gates sealed come fire or death, and we have the men to see that it happens.”

Ethaniel grunted at my side, and I looked to him and saw a dangerous glint in his eye.  It seemed he was as unhappy with the situation as was I.  How had Lheec managed to get a message to Risthis so quickly?  No human runner could have made the trip.  That left only one possibility.

Lheec must have sent the message by bird, but they were expensive creatures and had to be prepared ahead of time.  Carrier crull, as they were called, were used for fast messages.  They came in pairs, a bird and its mate.  When separated, the two birds would always fly back together as quickly as possible.  This trait had been exploited to make them excellent speed couriers.  The two birds were taken to different locations, with one person being a receiver, and the other a sender.

The message sender had only to attach his message to the sender bird, and let it go, and that bird would find the other caged bird, no matter how far apart, or how well hidden.  Assuming the sender bird was not killed, it would always find its mate, and it would do so without ever stopping.

The primary drawback to this form of communication was that the birds were rare, and very expensive.  Also, birds kept apart longer than two months tended to die.  Some died faster, and others took a little longer, but two months was a good average. The other problem came in the fact that the birds could only be used once in such a manner, and then they would have to be manually returned to separate locations before being useful again.

If Lheec had used such a method of message conveyance, it meant that he had anticipated not only my retreat from the capital, but also the direction of my retreat.  That did not bode well.  What else might Lheec have set up in my path if he knew what I intended to do?  I couldn't know, for my mind was not as devious as the old politicians.

“I have never spoken with Lheec, but I assure you that when I left for this inspection, I was still the ruler of these lands, and indeed, until Lord Lheec is willing to face me and offer challenge, I am still your king.  Open up these gates, and allow me entrance.”  I called up the wall, keeping my voice loud, but firm and controlled.  I wanted to meet the confrontation with as little violence as possible.  It was obvious to me that Lheec and the men of Risthis had conspired openly around me.  There was no other reason they would have one of Lheec's bird, and no other reason they would so quickly take a random message as fact, without checking the details of such a message for themselves.

A new man stepped to the front of the gate.  He was dressed in finery, and wore a distasteful smile on his face that let me know immediately that he was of the noble aristocracy.  There was no way of ignoring their particular variety of smugness.  Politicians and aristocrats, both were equally as vapid.

“These gates will not open to the enemies of the kingdom, Noble, and I have it on the King Lheec's good authority that your band of mercenaries are guilty of treason.  I have been ordered to defend this city from your ravages, and I have 10,000 men with which I plan to do just that.”  The smug noble said.  A wave of cheers swept across the wall, followed by the sound of shield banging against sword.  My army was deathly quiet.  They did not fear, and they were not worried.  They were black cloaks, and I was their king.  They simply awaited my orders.

“I want my ships.  Let me pass and give me my ships and this doesn't need to come to bloodshed.”  I demanded in a cool tone.  My anger was building, but I was trying to stay my own hand.  They numbered 10,000, and were fighting from a fortified position.  If it came to a fight, many would die, and I couldn't be certain that I would win.  Unfortified, my men would destroy the 10,000 humans, but walls could make all the difference in the world.

“We're not afraid of shedding your blood, traitor.”  The noble called down, and another round of cheering came from atop the wall.

“Where is Telistera, I wish to speak with her.”  I called, remembering that she should still be within the walls.  If I could speak with her, I hoped to at least find out the condition of my ships.  She might also be able to give me some indication of the situation within Risthis.

“The witch has been imprisoned.”  The pompous man smiled down at me, bolstered by his seemingly superior position.  “I've been instructed to offer you the same hospitality.  Come rest in my prison, and King Lheec has promised that he will allow all of your men to return to their former places of honor in his service.  He holds no grudges against them.”  The nobleman turned his eyes on the others in my party.

“King Lheec knows how hard it is to avoid the trappings of a charismatic leader, even when he is evil, and he extends his warm welcome to any who wish to defect and come back to the side of justice.  All you need to do is turn over the rebel, Noble.  We'll imprison him and you can return to Kreo as heroes.”  His voice was sickly sweet, and heavy with temptation.

I looked to the men around me, at the Knights of Ethan, all of whom now stood just behind me.  None of them moved.  I met the eyes of each of them, and each held my gaze firmly.  I could see the anger behind the eyes of my fellows, a reflection of my own rage.  They were not going to betray me.  The Black Patch Brigade I knew could not betray me, even if they wanted to.  My men would stand firm, but I had to decide what we would do.  I looked to the sky.

It was four or five hours until nightfall.  In darkness, we would have all the advantage.  The black cloaks were enhanced magically to see well in the dark, and the Knights had excellent night vision.  We would be difficult to see, and far more lethal under the cloak of darkness.  I closed my eyes for a moment and gathered my thoughts.  When I opened them again, my conviction was set in stone.

“You have six hours to open the gate, make my ships ready for sailing, and to release Telistera.  If you have not done all of those things at the end of those six hours, then under the true king's authority, I will declare you enemies of the country, and my men will destroy you mercilessly.  So speaks King Noble, Drake Slayer.”  I called out to the castle walls.  I snapped around, letting my cloak twist with me.  As one my entire army followed suit and we marched back the way we'd come, until we'd fallen under the cover of the trees again.  No word of reply came from Risthis, and no more cheers sounded from the walls.  If they had hoped for me to bow to their pressures, they had just been surprised.

I had a plan, and it was probably not what the army of Risthis expected.  We were 1000 strong, and if we could clear the gates, we would be unstoppable.  I did not want to spill more blood, but I would pursue my course through any obstacle.  I had come too far to be turned back.

“We should send someone over the wall to let us in.”  I heard Ethaniel's voice, and turned to see that he was just behind me.

I nodded.  “That's exactly what we're going to do.  Two Knights should be able to go over the wall, dispatch the guards at the gate, and open the doors for the rest of the army.  Once we're inside, I don't think Risthis will be as eager to resist.”

The other Knights were gathering around, all looking ready for whatever might come next.  Even Malice was grim faced and silent, looking every bit her old self in the shifting cloak and padded leather armor the Knights of Ethan generally wore.

“We can't afford the men or the time it would take to siege the entire city.  We don't have enough men to cover the perimeter by any means.”  I added.  “They've underestimated our abilities, and that's a mistake that no one should make with the Knights of Ethan.”  I steeled myself for what I had to do next.

“I need two volunteers who believe they can sneak over the wall, and get that gate open.  It will not be an easy task.”  I left it unspoken that I would have done it myself, if I'd been able to.  With only one arm the climb would be difficult, and more so if I was trying to make the climb without being heard or seen.  If I tried to force myself into the situation, I would only be a detriment to the success of the mission.  I knew it, and though it pained me, I would not risk doing the task myself merely to appease my own pride, when doing so might put all the others at risk.

For the briefest moment I wished that I had taken the replacement Fell Beast limb Ethaniel had offered me on many occasions.  That moment passed quickly.  I had enough demons within me without inviting another.  While a second arm would make me more capable, the nightmare of what it brought with it – the constant mental struggle between myself and the creature to which I was joined – terrified me.  I could wish that I was more like the others, without the dark voices and terrible power that flowed through me, but that wouldn't be true either.  For all that I hated the darkness, I needed it to do what must be done.  I was not a brilliant swordsman.  I survived on the sheer magnitude of my strength and speed.  That was a bitter brew to swallow, but it did not make it any less true.

As one, the Knights around me stepped forward and drew their swords.  They had all volunteered, even Malice.  I took a deep breath.  It would be up to me to decide who went, and who stayed.  If one of them died, it would be because I had ordered them into a fatal situation.  I had cast aside my crown, yet still I was the one leading.  It was not what I wanted, but I didn't see it changing any time soon.  I could vocally denounce my leadership, but that would not change the fact the others had grown accustomed to looking to me for direction.  Such a denunciation would only serve to make the others hesitant to follow my directions in the future.  The worse thing a leader could do was show uncertainty.

“Ethaniel, Snow, you two will go.”  I made the decision quickly.  They were my most capable and battle trained fighters.  If any two could manage the task at hand, it would be them.  I could ill afford to lose either of them, but at the same time I could trust such a dangerous task to no others.

All swords were returned to scabbards.  If there were any hard feelings about my choice, the Knights did not show them openly.  It was as though they were a different set of people from the ones I'd initially set out with.  They had once looked broken and dishonored, but they wore their pride again.  Perhaps the event a few days before had been for the better.  Whatever else, I had reestablished their faith in me as a leader, and if I was to be forced into that roll, it was better to have that faith, than not.

“What will we do once the army is inside?”  It was Fen who spoke up.  He looked steadfast, but I could see the fear behind his eyes.  He had not seen combat in a long time, and had probably never had to fight other men, only the Hungering.

“We will demand a surrender, and then we will recover Telistera, get to our ships, and leave this place behind.”  I answered quickly and confidently.

“Who will sail the ships for us?  I certainly have no experience with sea vessels.”  It was Silver who spoke this time.  Her question was a good one.  I had thought to hire on a captain, and a crew large enough to manage each ship until my own men could be trained to handle the tasks of running the ships.  I wasn't sure how difficult it would be to train the black cloaks.  They were stubborn, and would have to be dealt with individually.

“We will hire a small crew for each ship.  They will teach our men how to handle the ships as well.  That should be sufficient to get us going.”  I didn't bother to address the hidden question of whether or not we would be able to hire a crew on such short notice, under the current situation, and if we could, how reliable that crew might be.  I'd brought enough gold to give many men a long and wealthy life.  Each black cloak carried a sack of gold, and the total sum should have been enough to hire a twenty man crew for each ship, with enough money for each to retire with their families, and never have to work again.  Whether I would have the opportunity to make use of that wealth or not, was another matter entirely.

“What if they don't surrender?”  Fen asked another question.  Silence fell upon us.  With the exception of Fen, we all knew the answer to that, and none of us wished to give it voice.  Though it was likely Fen knew the answer as well and simply didn't wish to believe it.  I could not disillusion him.

Night fell too quickly.  There was a general sense of tension amidst the Knights of Ethan as we waited for the time to strike.  Waiting to fight could be more difficult than the actual combat that might follow.  Once metal met metal on the field of battle, everything became a blur of motion and action.  Then, there wasn't time to worry.  Sitting in the tree line, watching the still city of Risthis, I almost wished we were able to fight them sword to sword.  Almost.  That wish was quelled by my lack of desire to kill more people that were only fighting for what they believed was right.  There was no real victory in such a slaughter.  I hoped that a minimum of blood would need to be shed.

As soon as full dark fell upon us, I ordered Snow and Ethaniel to depart.  They were to scale the wall, dispatch any guards that stood between them and the gates, and open our way forward, at which time we would charge into the city before the forces of Risthis could reorganize and rally around the breech.  It was a simple plan, but one that should be effective, assuming that Risthis really didn't anticipate that we were capable of scaling their walls with ease.  Obviously no one had informed the guards of my own scaling of the walls at the border fortress many years before.  Walls sometimes gave a false sense of protection.

I watched the two cloaked figures slip across the open expanse between the tree line and the city, all but invisible if not for my eyes ability to track their motion, a streak of light moving through the black.  Even though I was taking no part in that raid, and perhaps more so because of it, I felt a sense of worry that I could not shake.  What if one of them died?  What would I do without Ethaniel or Snow?  Snow had betrayed me, but she was still valuable to my army as long as she was fighting for me.  My trust in her might be daunted, but that didn't meant I wished to lose her.

Ethaniel, for all that he was frightening and unpredictable, was also an asset.  He always had an answer, and his second set of eyes, when they worked, could provide valuable insight.  Of course, it seemed to me that it had been a long time since we'd last relied upon them for anything.  I'd been told, “I can't see that.” so many times, that I had not even asked the old Knight to look in a long while.  It was more reliable to depend upon traditional scouts.  Still, his experience, and ability to fight through any situation, made him a valuable addition to those who still followed me.

“I'm nervous.”  It was Malice, she spoke quietly behind me.

“We all are.  It's always like this before a battle.  Things will go smoothly.  Just stay close to me, and don't fight unless you have to.”  I told her, trying to sound as confident as possible.  I still held a notion of protecting her from the horrors of battle for as long as possible.  I wondered how much longer that would be.  Would I be able to measure the time in years, or would I have to measure it minutes?

“What if some of us die?”  Laouna's question startled me.  Her voice was little more than a whisper.

“If some of us die, the rest of us will have to go on, and try to remember those who have fallen.  That's all we can do.”  I could hear the bitterness in my own voice.  There were too many people to remember, and no one could ever keep them all in their mind.  I didn't like to think about it.  Uin Delmor's face came abruptly to the forefront of my memory.  I remembered him because I had an uncanny recollection, and because I had formed a personal bond with him on the battlefield to which I'd lost my arm, but how many others had died that no one would recall?

Silence fell upon us for a while, though I couldn't say how long.  Time seemed to stretch out indefinitely, until every second seemed a day, and I wondered if the moment would ever come for us to move.

“They're taking their sweet time.”  Fen said, his voice a little higher than normal.  I could hear the agitation and nervousness in his wavering words.  I looked at him.  He had one of his hands wrapped around his sword hilt, and his eyes were fixed on the gates.  From our position, we could clearly see the walls, though from the walls we would be invisible, hidden away in the tree line.

“It's still too soon, relax.”  I replied.  I too was eager for things to get moving, even more so to see the gate begin to open, a sign that at least one of the people sent over the wall was still alive, but I didn't want to let my agitation spread.  Everyone needed to be calm and prepared.  For the Black Patch Brigade, that wasn't a problem.  For the Knights, the waiting was far more difficult.  Tower, Fen, Silver, Malice and I, all had to maintain our calm while we waited for the gates to go up.  Failure was a possibility, though I hoped it was an unlikely one.  Reduced by two of our best, the situation before us would be hopeless.

“They're opening.”  Silver whispered urgently.  All eyes snapped forward.  Indeed, the portcullis was rising, and the gates were swinging open.

“Forward!”  I called the order, and as one my men moved to obey.  We charged down the hill towards the city, as silently as possible while making a good pace.  In the darkness we would be nearly invisible from the city walls, poor targets for archers, though I doubted that would stop them from taking a few shots into our numbers.

I saw the arrows fly, streaks of light passing through the sky, but they were all poorly aimed.  If any of my men was to fall, it would be by sheer bad luck.  Ahead of me, through the gates looming up before my men, I could hear the sound of metal striking metal.  Ethaniel and Snow had engaged the enemy already.   Once the gate started to come up, there would have been no way for them to maintain stealth any longer.  I charged ahead, running as fast as I could without forcing my body into that state of unreal super speed which would send me too far out in front of my men.  In moments I was passing through the arched gate, and the black cloaks and other Knights were only steps behind me.

Ethaniel and Snow, I could see, were fighting off a growing horde of human soldiers, slowly losing ground to sheer numbers.  They blurred from target to target, leaving death in their wake, but there were too many of the enemy.  My men came up behind them like an impenetrable wall, forming a line, and joining their blades to the surging wave of defense.  Suddenly the men of Risthis were pressed, collapsing back.  The gate was lost, and my army was inside.  I surged to a high point, looking for a place from which I could be heard.  I stepped onto an interior outcropping of the wall, clawing my way through the mass of black cloaks eager to rip into the enemy army.  I climbed until I could see over the heads of all the men and women waging war on one another.  It was as terrible a site as war ever is.

“Your wall is breeched!”  I cried into the darkness, though it was quickly becoming brighter as torches were brought, to aid the human fighters.  “Stand down and no more men need fall this day.”  I called out.  “My men, strike at no man that does not strike at you first.”  I commanded my own army.  Slowly the fighting abated, until the two forces stood toe to toe, eyeing each other, and waiting for orders on what should be done next.  Risthis, it seemed, was not eager to fight any longer.

“Bring your leader here.  Let us talk.  The sooner this business is passed, the better for both of us.”  I called out.  There was a stirring amidst the enemy army, and I saw a man dispatched, presumably to get the nobleman I'd spoken to before.  We waited in silence, the men of Risthis slowly backing away from the dangerous-eyed black cloaks they faced.  Every minute of delay was another minute in my favor.  The mere presence of the black cloaks was enough to incite fear, and fear made my army stronger, and theirs weaker.  When combined with being inside their walls, we were no longer at a disadvantage.  We had fewer men, but ours were better trained, more powerful, and far more dangerous.

So far things were going as well as could be expected.  Men had died, I couldn't be sure how many on each side, but fewer had died, I was sure, than would have resulted from a full out attack.  That was one thing to be thankful for.  The fewer lives resting on my conscience, the better.

It took a while, but finally the noble who'd spoken atop the wall was brought to the front of his army.  He looked disheveled, as though he'd been carried from bed, and his smug smile was gone, to be replaced by a look of poorly concealed fear.  I stepped down from my perch and went to the front of my army to meet him.  For his part, he stood stiffly, back straight, in some semblance of honor, though it may have merely been a paralysis of fear.  I towered over him as I drew close, nearly two feet taller than the man, who I realized, was quite short when not atop a wall.

“I want Telistera freed and brought to me. Our ships are to be prepared to sail this very night.  If you give me what I want, I will be gone by morning, and you will need never see or hear from me again.  I am prepared to pay for the supplies, and the men necessary to crew my ships.  Do you understand?”  My voice did not offer any compromise, and I set my face in an expression of angry determination.

The noble's jaw dropped open.  “That's not how you negotiate. You can't just come in here and . . .”

“This is not a negotiation.  This is the order of your king, who you have betrayed.  I have judged you and yours guilty of treason, and your punishment is execution.  I am willing to grant you all a pardon if you see to my orders immediately, but failing that, my judgment will be carried out now.”  I locked my purple eyes on the dull brown eyes of Risthis' ruler.  He attempted to meet my gaze, but in a moment he averted his line of sight.

“We will do as you say.”  He conceded quietly.

“What was that?”  I asked.  “I didn't hear you, and if I didn't hear you, your men might not have heard you.  I wouldn't want there to be any confusion in the hours to come.”  I knew my actions were humiliating the little man, but I wanted there to be no question as to who had come out on top in our encounter.  I needed things done quickly, and without question.  To accomplish that, I would have to play the part of the tyrant once more.  I had done it many times in my role as king.

“We will do as you say!”  The noble called loudly, this time so loudly that all of his men heard.  I felt the other Knights around me relax.  There was no sigh, no shift in posture, but there was a sense of tension leaving the air.  The fighting was done for the time being, and we had won.

“Have Telistera brought at once.  Have runners sent to see to my ships, provisions and crews.  I will be making my way to the dock now, and I want my ships being loaded when I arrive.”  I ordered.  The noble practically jumped out of skin while turning to give out orders of his own.  He snapped at his men, taking his anger at me out on them.  I had no doubt that the circle of blame for the events at Risthis would be massive.  Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief.  The immediate crisis had been averted.  I would get my ships, and I would be away from Risthis, and Lord Lheec, and the land of men, before another dawn had crested the sky.  I didn't know that it was yet too early to feel relieved.

By the time I reached the docks, they had already sprouted into a cacophony of action.  All the dock hands were running about, trying to get organized for loading the ships.  Supplies were being carted out of warehouses, and men were being pulled from their beds to man the pulley systems that would load supplies aboard the ships.  There, beneath the partial moon, I had my first chance to really look at the vessels that Telistera had built for me.

There were three of them, taking up a good portion of the dock area.  The first of them finished was the one furthest out to sea, and it looked as though it might take sail at any moment.  The other two were slightly less organized appearing, since they would be loaded after the first ship, as it was easier to move the cumbersome equipment to the end of the dock, then back into shore, so that the cranes and pulley systems would be out of the way when the ships were ready to get underway.

They were massive crafts, large enough to hold a good deal of men each, but they still managed to be narrow bodied, designed with speed in mind.  The wood used to craft the hull had been chosen from a wide variety of options available.  Telistera had settled on a peculiar red hued wood that was half as heavy as traditional building materials, but nearly twice as strong, and far more resistant to water logging.  There had been many problems.  The wood was rare, and difficult to come by.  The strength of the wood had been a problem of its own, as conventional tools did not last long in shaping and manipulating the lumber.  Telistera had been forced to reinvent the tools of ship crafting as well as the basic design of the ship itself.  The end result, however, was a better understanding of wood working, a better set of tools that could be used well into the future, and three ships of a strength and design never imagined before.

In the darkness, the hulls of the three ships looked gray and blue, as did all else in the world, but the red hue of the wood gave them a decidedly darker cast that was almost ominous.  Just looking at the ships, however, one could see that they were something special.  Each had ten cannons per side, as well as two cannons in the bow and aft.  They were equipped with other weapons as well, though I knew little of them at the time.  Telistera had insisted that they would be necessary for crossing the sea, and I had not doubted the conviction that had been in her eyes.  She warned that she had seen all of her fellows lost to the creatures of the deep, and she didn't intend for that to happen again.  I wanted to say that I did not believe in such monsters, and in a way I did not, but there was no denying Telistera's belief in them.  I trusted her judgment on the matter.  Once, in a time that seemed forever gone, Brutal had spoken of similar beasts, and I had found the stories difficult to believe then as well.  Monsters of the deep, could they be any worse than those we found on land?

I watched the preparations for a time, my black cloaks around me, waiting for their next set of orders.  The other Knights had split up and were seeing to preparations, keeping a watchful eye to insure that there were no deceptions from the ground crew.  I was just beginning to wonder if something foul had befallen Telistera, when I spotted her tall and imposing figure making its way down the main street of Risthis towards the dock.  People struggled out of her way as she came.  There was a look about her that sent any who crossed her path away in a hurry.  Watching her approach, her silver eyes reflecting the moon's light like silver-blue torches in the night, I could see why people would flee.  She was tall and attractive, but also powerfully muscled, and lethal looking.  Watching her move was like watching a powerful beast of the wild, beautiful, but deadly at the same time.

She pushed her way through the black cloaks as effortlessly as she did the other people, using her staff weapon to nudge aside any who were hesitant to move.  They eventually cleared way, but not without locking her with their terrible fiery eyes.  I could see that the only thing holding them back from attacking her was the bond of magic that entrapped them.  She came to a stop before me, her eyes full of thunder, her hair disheveled.  She looked as though she'd spent a few uncomfortable nights in a cell, and I guessed that was exactly what had happened.

“Telistera.”  I greeted her as she drew near, offering her a respectful bow.

“Noble.”  She returned the bow, though only slightly.  It was not a slight on her part.  Her people didn't bow, and she had never really taken to the custom.

“I'm sorry about your accommodations these past few days.  I hope you were at least kept comfortably.”  I doubted such was the case.

“Jailers here have loose fingers, and believe they are entitled to more than they are, with regards to their prisoners.”  Telistera said, her back stiffening, and a fierce look lighting her features.  “They will not make that mistake again.  Once I'd maimed three of them, they stopped making unwelcome advances, and once they realized that I was only staying in my cell at my own choosing, and not because of the strength of the bars, things went smoothly enough.  I figured you would settle matters when you arrived.  You did not disappoint me.”

“I'm sorry it took so long, and I'm sorry that you had to go through this at all.  Our world of politics and politicians knows naught but corruption.  They seem to feed upon turmoil, and grow strong upon the chaos of people suffering.  I look forward to leaving it all behind.”  I echoed aloud the sentiment I'd expressed internally many times.  The mistreatment of my silver-eyed ally only furthered that sentiment.

Telistera shrugged.  “It's done now.  I wouldn't think too highly of the voyage ahead.  It will not be easy.  The waves claimed many of my people, and what lies beneath the waves claimed many more.  The journey is long.  It took my people more than two years to cross the ocean. It will take us less time, but it will still take years.  You will miss the land.”  She paused for a moment before adding.  “Even this land.”

“I suppose I will.”  I admitted, though at that moment I couldn't imagine that I would.

“First ship is loaded, and there is crew aboard willing to make the trip for the gold promised!”  Fen's voice cut across the dock as he came running in our direction.  He looked excited, his face lit by the exuberance created by the motion around us, and the sea that stretched out forever to the horizon.  He looked as young as he was in that moment, no warrior at all, but a boy pulled from his life and cast into a role that he should not have had to fill.  I wondered about his family, and what they would think of where he was now.

That thought, made me think of my own family.  I had not done so in years.  I had not seen them since before I'd left for my training as a Knight of Ethan.  I wondered if they even knew that I had become the king.  It seemed unlikely.  No one knew me as Lowin.  It had always been King Noble, Drake Slayer.  I thought back on my life, and realized that I had never missed them the way I should have.  There had been too much happening to stop and think about my mother and father.  I hoped that they were alive and well, but I didn't know.  Maybe someday, I thought, if I came back, I would check on them.  If.

Fen's voice interrupted my dark thoughts.  “The hold-master says she'll have the first ship ready to sail in a few minutes, and then we just need . . .” He was never able to finish that sentence.  He was still walking across the dock in my direction when a massive explosion tore through the air, and everyone stopped what they were doing immediately.  The noise was so loud that I couldn't determine from which direction it originated.  I looked back to Fen, and saw him lift his arm to point, and then suddenly he was gone in a blur of motion, and a splatter of red blood and mangled flesh.  With him went a piece of the dock, and about thirty black cloaks, also torn to bloody splinters.

I looked in the direction Fen had been pointing and my heart sank.  I could see twenty trails of smoke snaking their way up into the sky, the telltale signs of cannon fire.  Risthis had fired upon us.  They had fired upon their own harbor.

“To the ships!”  I bellowed.  Dock workers were scrambling to get away, and the Black Patch Brigade stood stoically, waiting for death to take them.  At my order, every one of my men began to move.  In the chaos I could not see what was happening.  I didn't know who was alive, and who was dead, though I knew Fen was no more.  The Knight who had never really been one of us, and he never would be.  Rage tore through my body like a burst of fiery pain.  Suddenly I wanted to kill every one of the men of Risthis.  I drew my sword and started up the wood planking, heading towards the smoke trails coming from further up in the city.  I intended to kill them all.  In that moment, with the Fell Beast inside of me licking its drooling maw, I had all intentions of slaying every man in armor in the entire city of Risthis.

Laouna.  A voice whispered in my mind, and I stopped in my tracks.  Malice.  I spun around, looking back at the chaotic remnants of my army.  Where was Malice?  I didn't see her anywhere.  She had been near me before the explosion, but some of those strikes had hit very close to me.

“Malice?” I yelled, running back down the dock, all thoughts of revenge fleeing before the incredible fear of losing another person in my life.  Dock workers ran by me, terrified expressions on their faces.  Another explosion rippled through the air.  My body reacted on impulse this time.  The world slowed around me, even as I was spinning around to watch the next volley of attacks.  The metal shrapnel flew through the air at surprising velocity, even when slowed by my accelerated perception of time.

I watched in horror as black cloak and human man alike were torn to shreds at the impact of the incoming fire.  I surged forward, trying to move as many as possible from the volley of death, knocking one out of the way, before dashing to the next, but there were twenty incoming rounds, and too many people to move.  I watched as a cannonball barreled into a group of children huddled beneath an open crate, the game of dice they'd been playing lay forgotten a few feet away.  I watched as a woman carrying a sack of grain tried in vain to push one of the black cloaks from the path of an incoming projectile before the flying piece of metal reduced them both to a bloody pulp.  They were too far away, and I was not fast enough to save anyone.

Every face I looked at, I just wanted to find Malice.  She wasn't amidst the people on the dock.  I saw four rounds hit heavy on the second ship, three of them bouncing off of the hull to fall violently into the crowd of people still trying to get away.  The fourth tore through the mainmast, a lucky shot, but one that assured the ship would not be leaving dock.  The third ship, I saw, was aflame.  The sails had caught fire, and the crew was jumping from the sides.  Flaming cannon balls.  I watched it all in slow motion, everything happening like some sickening dance, poetic and terrible.

I let the world slide back into pace around me.

“To the first ship!  Everyone to the first ship!  Cast off anchors, make sail!”  I called out, screaming until my throat bled.  It was time to go, or we would not be going at all.  If the first ship had not been the furthest out on the docks, it probably would not have been safe either.  I fell back into the depths of my speed, flashing around the dock, avoiding the places where it was collapsing into the sea.  I couldn't find Malice.  I couldn't find any of the other Knights of Ethan.  Black cloaks lay dead, or dying, all around me.  I let myself slow down again, thinking that in my speed I might be missing something.  Another explosion ripped the world apart.

Something heavy hit my body and I was spinning backwards, pressure on my chest.  I hit the ground hard.  The place where I'd been standing exploded before I'd even recovered my breath.

“We have to leave now!”  Telistera yelled above the ruckus while getting back to her feet.  It had been her that knocked me to the ground.  She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the ship.  I looked back over my shoulder.

“But Malice . . .” I started, but she cut me off.

“We sail now, Noble, or we don't sail.  This is for Kaylien.”  She was still dragging me.  I fell in behind her, reacting numbly.  I followed her to the ship, which was already pulling out of dock.  We grabbed a hold of a rope ladder as the ship began to cut through the outgoing tide, and climbed our way to the chaotic deck.  The climb was hard for me, but I barely noticed it. My mind was in shock.  The events that had just transpired seemed a confusing blur.  Even as the ship was clearing the dock I ran to the back of the ship and stood atop the railing, my remarkable eyes scanning the ruined tatter of the city's edge for some sign of Malice amidst the rubble.

Another explosion sounded, and another volley of rounds tore into the docks, smashing into the already ruined ships.  Fire was everywhere, and I could make out nothing amidst the mess of bodies and death.  Black figures burned, the smell of fur, and flesh roasting in flames filled the air, and black smoke billowed into the sky.  I stood atop the rail and watched the world burn.  The wind tore at my cloak, sweeping it out in front of me.  In that moment it seemed I could hear all the world screaming in anguish at the atrocity before me.

“Malice!”  I screamed into the night.

What fools men, who kill and maim each other, when each wants only to live and be happy.  As I watched the docks of Risthis burning, a fire so bright it was like a damning sun upon the horizon, I wondered if there was truly anything worth saving left in our doomed people.  Was humanity worth all that had been lost in its name? Despair held my heart, a force that clutched down until it seemed I would be unable to draw a single breath.

“Lowin?”  A voice called across the ship's deck, familiar and as enchanting to my ears as any sound I'd ever chanced to hear.  That voice was hope in the face of bleakness.  I spun, turning my back to the burning hell of Risthis, and my gaze locked upon the distinct green eyes of Malice.  She stood amidst the horde of confused black cloaks and sailors, like a beacon, a pillar of solidarity in a world that seemed on the verge of crumble.

I ran across the deck to where she stood, darting between the remnants of my army still awaiting orders, and threw my single arm around her, lifting her to my lips until I joined my flesh to hers and kissed her with all the passion I could muster.  In that moment, I could think of nothing but the fact that I had come close, so terribly close, to having lost her again.  I kissed her as only a lover can, deep and passionate.  She replied, clumsily, in kind.   It was that clumsy effort that reminded me of her fragile mental state.  I pulled my lips from hers hesitantly.  Her cheeks were bright red, flushed with color, and her face wore a surprised, but pleasantly startled expression.

“I'm sorry.”  I forced out an apology, understanding that I had crossed the line I'd set for myself, without meaning to.

“I didn't mind.”  Malice replied, her eyes downcast, the color in her cheeks heightening until it seemed all the blood in her body must have fled there.  “You can do that any time you want to.”  She added after a pause.

I was too happy to see her alive to offer any more of an apology, or to make excuses for my actions.  I put my arm around her once more, and hugged her tightly to me.  The ship's crew watched the whole spectacle unfold before them, most appearing confused.  Knights of Ethan were not known to be emotional and affectionate, but I didn't care what they saw of me at that moment.

The black cloaks looked, as ever, hostile and more interested in Malice as breeding stock than anything else.  The human crew was busy trying to keep the ship running, but even they had stopped to watch the confusing scene unfold before them.  It was time to get things under control.  I hesitantly released Malice, though I did not move away from her.  I looked for familiar faces amidst the crowd, and saw a few.  I spotted Ethaniel.  His clothes were tattered in places, and his skin looked reddened, as though he'd been too close to a fire for a time, but he appeared mostly uninjured.

“Ethaniel, I need a head count.  I need to know how many men we have left in fighting condition, and how many of us survived, Black Patch Brigade, human crew, and Knights.”  I ordered him.  He came forward.

“All the Knights, with the exception of Fen who died in the initial volley of enemy fire, are accounted for and suffering from no serious injuries.  It will take some time to figure out how many of the Brigade have survived, but just from looking at those on deck, I'd say we've lost close to 900 of them.  In the chaos, and the noise, they were unable to think for themselves enough to keep from being slaughtered.”  He answered quickly.  It was obvious that while I was having my emotional moment with Malice, he had already been taking stock of the situation.

My relief at hearing no more of the Knights of Ethan had been lost, lifted a huge weight from my shoulders that I hadn't known had been there.  Upon hearing that 900 of the black cloaks had fallen, that weight returned.  I wondered if Liet had been one of them.  Again, I had no right to worry about him above the others, but that didn't change the fact that I did.  He had been a friend once, and I still believed that he existed somewhere beneath the layers of magic, and the hostility of the Fell Beast.

My thoughts turned once more to the fallen Knight.  Poor Fen.  He hadn't deserved to die the way he had.  It had been fast, but he hadn't even had a chance to save himself.  He'd never really been one of the Knights, and was gone forever before that could be changed.  What legacy did he leave behind?  At sea, we couldn't even properly show him his last rites, not that there would have been anything to bury.

“Sir,” A voice spoke from behind me.  I turned to face the man who had spoken.  He was a human, older, with gray hair, heavily tanned skin, and the look of a well traveled sea farer about him.

“Yes?”  I tried to seem as unimposing as possible.

“I was hired on as captain, but only half my crew made it on board ship.  There are ten of us, Sir, and enough to manage things for a time, but we can't keep the ship in order around the clock.  This journey is to be a long one, and we will either need to put in at a different dock to get more hands, or we'll need to teach your men how to run this ship.”  He said.  He spoke confidently and managed to meet my eyes through his entire speech.

“What's your name, Captain?”  I asked him.  The fact that he did not outwardly project any fear he might be feeling made me like him.  I wouldn't have blamed him for being terrified.  He was to be stuck on a ship for two years with a group of men many considered monsters, and he only had half of his crew.  His home dock had just fired upon him, his other ten men were probably dead, but he was all business.  That took strength.

He shrugged a reply.  “They always just call me Captain, it's as good as any name.”

“Alright, then, Captain.  We'll train our men to manage this ship.  It's going to be a difficult process, since they're not inclined to learn things that don't involve fighting, but we'll see your men don't have to run the entire ship on their own.  I'll be relying on you for judgments concerning what is needed to maintain this ship since I have little experience at sailing.  Any questions that need an expert opinion, you can bring to Telistera's attention.”  I gestured to the silver-eyed woman who was also watching the happenings with rapt attention.  “She is well experienced at sea, and is the only one of us all that has made this voyage before.”

Captain nodded.  “As you will, Sir.”

I shook my head.  “You can call me Noble.  This journey is going to be far too long for formalities.  If you have any needs, or your men have any requests, bring them to me immediately and I will see what can be done.”

“Aye, Noble.”  He said, before offering a slight bow of respect, and running off to attend to his duties.  Ten human men.  I had hoped to have at least double that many for each ship.  Of course, only one ship remained of the original three.  My visit to Risthis had been devastating.  A strong yearning for vengeance burned inside of me.  I knew on some level that it was a hollow desire, but that did not lessen the want for blood to match that spilled by the foolish noble of Risthis.  It felt wrong that no one would pay for the death of the innocent Fen, and the hundreds of black cloaks, all once men of the kingdom, who had died in the fires on the dock.  What of the dock workers and ship crews?

“You're not thinking of going back, are you?”  It was Telistera.  She was now standing beside Ethaniel, both of them watching me intently.  I met her strange, mirror-like silver eyes.  Was I so easily readable?

“No, I won't go back.”  I said, and it was the truth.  I didn't know if I'd ever go back.  Just the same, I still wanted vengeance.

“I've seen that look on the face of others.  It never amounts to anything good for anyone.”  She pressed her point.

“I have other things to attend to.  Vengeance will have to go unserved.”  I answered, and I could hear some of the agitation in my voice.

“We should have a service for those that are lost.”  Telistera offered in what I gathered was an attempt to shift my focus from revenge to something more constructive.

I nodded.  I hadn't considered that.  Just because we were at sea, didn't mean we had to simply forget those who'd died.  “Once the matters of the ship are settled, I'll see to it personally.”

Telistera smiled, ever a sad expression upon her face, and turned to leave.

“Telistera,” I stopped her.  “Thank you for pulling me off the dock.”  Had she not done so, I knew, I would be dead at the harbor of Risthis.

She didn't turn back to me.  “Your daughter needs you.  I think we all do.  You're the type of man that passes through the world, and it bends to accept you.  The rest of us can't make a difference, but I think you can, Noble.  I think you can make a difference for the better.  I've thought that since the first time I saw you.”  She left with those words, on her way to try and make sense of the chaos of our departure.

I didn't understand what she'd just told me.  I would, I thought, need to ask her about those parting lines at some point.  That time would have to come later, as there was still much I had to do.  For my own peace of mind, I needed to see if Liet was among the still remaining men from Kreo who were milling about the deck with no definitive sense of purpose.

I took my first step, deciding if I didn't get moving, I might forever remain in place.  Malice followed in my wake, a silent, but welcome companion.  Ethaniel split from us, but it seemed to me that his gray eyes kept watching me. Just before his head turned away, I thought I saw a devilish mirth burning beneath their surface.  The old Knight was away before I could say for certain.  A chill ran down my back.

I sat staring at the swinging lamp, unlit though it was, as it traced a course back and forth through the air in time with the motion of the ship beneath me.  Laouna was fast asleep in one of the two beds in our small cabin, but I could not make myself sleep.  Two months aboard ship had done little to help me relax.  I had not seen land in a long time, and there was something stark and terrible about the endless flatness of the ocean spreading out in every direction.  It was as though the rest of the world was entirely gone, and only we remained.

What was worse, Telistera became notably more agitated the further out to sea we went.  She watched the waters almost constantly, her eyes sliding along the turbulent surface of endless blue-green depths as though at any moment the very sea might spring up and attack.  If what she said of the beasts beneath the waves were true, then perhaps that was not such a great stretch of reality.  She had been watching the waters for the past month, saying that we had entered the deeps.

“They feed out here, beyond the shallows.”  She'd told me one evening as I sat with her atop the deck.

“Perhaps we'll outrun them.”  I'd offered, but she'd just shaken her head.

“We can run for a time, but eventually the wind will die down, and they'll be there.  They always were.”  Telistera's eyes had taken on a distant look.  Memories.  I had not breeched that topic again with her, and she had done little else other than sit on deck and watch the waters.

The black cloaks had taken a great deal of training, but they had become proficient enough to manage most of the ship's tasks with little human interference.  The human crew still worked beside them, but they'd settled into a harmony that seemed to work well enough, and while at full sail, the daily tasks of sailing became easier.  I took my turn at the chores, and I made sure the others Knights did as well.  There was a good deal of grumbling, but I felt we should all do our part to keep the ship in good working order.  We did not need a rift between the human crew and the Knights.

All told, there were 112 black cloaks left alive.  Liet had indeed been among them.  There were six Knights left, and ten human crewmen.  The ship was designed to comfortably transport a crew of 350, and under desperate situations, a crew of 400 could find places.  Our tiny crew of 128 made the ship feel empty, especially since the black cloaks rarely talked while on duty, and never spoke with anyone outside of their own group when off duty.  For the longest time, I had not known they talked amongst each other at all, but I had seen them talking once, a few weeks after our ship left port, and since then I had noticed it other times as well.

I had believed them only able to communicate with those who directly confronted them, but obviously I had been incorrect.  They had once given me the name Oath-breaker, so I should have known they had some way of communicating amongst one another.  I still understood very little about the magic that governed their behavior.  In truth, magic in general was a mystery to me.  I understood that all power came with a sacrifice, but I was not clear on anything beyond that.  I had asked Ethaniel about it once, but he'd not been inclined to discuss it, saying that, “Some things are best left unknown.”  I wasn't sure if I agreed with that thought, but I also was no fan of magic, so I did not press the matter.

Finding Liet among the crew had been a substantial relief to me.  I had resumed my daily talks with him, and found that he was still responding to his actual name.  At times, though I might have imagined it, it seemed that he was even making an effort to communicate with me as well.  Of course, that might have just been wishful thinking.  It was hard to believe that after so many years of trying the same things over and over again, he would finally start to come out of his shell.

A scream startled me from my thoughts, Laouna.  I flashed across the room and was at her bedside in an instant.  She was sitting bolt upright, her eyes opened wide in terror.  I sat on her bedside and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

“What's wrong, Laouna?”  I asked in as soothing a voice as possible.  Her body against mine was as stiff as a board, but as I spoke she turned to me, seemed to notice me for the first time, and I felt her relax into my embrace.

“I had a nightmare.”  She said quietly.  “. . . it seemed so real though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”  I asked.  It sometimes seemed that talking about such things chased them away more effectively.  A nightmare, kept to one's self, was bound to repeat.  I didn't know if that was true, but I'd heard it said before.  I relaxed, knowing that Malice would be alright.  I was certain she would tell me about her nightmare, and drift back off to sleep.

“I dreamed that there were these monsters, thousands of them, crawling across the land.  They all had red glowing eyes, but some of them were great black giants, with hundreds of the smaller creatures upon their backs.”  She began.

I felt a wave of cold pass through me at her words.  She was describing the Hungering, and the battle we'd fought in before confronting Lucidil.  It was the first time since she'd woken from her injuries suffered in the fight with Lucidil that she had ever mentioned any of those events.  I wasn't sure whether to be excited, afraid, or worried.  I wanted her to remember her life, and to become the Malice I remembered, but I wasn't sure I wanted her memories to start in such a terrible place.

“You were there, and you kept fighting those . . . things.  I was trying to tell you to stop, but you wouldn't listen.  I was afraid you were going to die, so I followed you.  I kept trying to help you.  You just got further and further away.  I couldn't keep up with you no matter how hard I tried.  I lost sight of you, and it started to rain this strange blue fire.  I was afraid of it at first.

“Everything it touched burned away, but it seemed to be avoiding me, as though it were impossible for it to strike me.  Then I found you.  You were lying on the ground, screaming, and the blue fire was covering you.  I couldn't help you, Lowin.”  She looked at me and there were tears streaming down her face.  I squeezed her shoulders.

“It's just a dream.  Those monsters are gone now, and I'm fine.  There is no blue fire.  You don't need to worry.”  I told her, though those monsters haunted my dreams as well, and the blue fire had consumed me in my nightmares more then I dared to discuss.  It was rare that I would ever sleep and not see that battle against the Hungering and their black drakes.  The rain of blue fire, the feeling of my flesh burning away; memories that haunted both waking and sleeping.

“It was so real.  I could hear the sounds of people fighting, and smell the burning. . .”  She insisted.

“Those are memories of the time before you woke up.”  I told her, deciding it was better to be honest with her.  “That was one of the last battles we fought together.  We won, though, and we are both here now, so there is nothing to worry about.  Those things are past, and we are both safe.”  I tried to fill my voice with assurance.

I felt her hand reach across my chest and touch my left shoulder, the place where it should have connected to my arm.

“That's where you lost your arm, isn't it?”  Her voice was just above a whisper as she asked.

I nodded, trying to push back the memory of that moment that surged forward.  “Yes, that's where I lost my arm.”

“I'm sorry I didn't save you.”  Laouna's voice was sad, heavy with regrets she should not have felt.

“I made the decision that caused this injury.  There was nothing you could have done to change things, and I know you would have if you were able.  You don't need to feel any guilt about my arm.”  I told her.  It was the truth.  I left out that I had lost the arm saving her life because that didn't really matter.  I had made that choice, and if I had it to do over a thousand times, I would make the same choice.  I might miss the arm occasionally, but I never regretted the decision that caused me to lose it.

“Ethaniel says that you could have a new arm if you wanted.  I've heard him tell you that a lot.  Why don't you get a new arm?”  She asked.  It was the first time she'd ever asked me that.  Ethaniel had many times, and Snow had pressed the point as well, but Laouna never had.

“Don't I do well enough with just the one?”  I asked, avoiding the question.  I didn't know how to explain it to her.  How could I tell her that I feared I might become more of a monster if I took another of them into myself?  I had tried to explain that to Ethaniel, but he either hadn't understood, or hadn't seen a problem.

“You do, but wouldn't you be better with two?”  She pressed.

For a moment I was silent.  I wasn't sure what to say.  “I might, but there is a price to be paid for strong arms.  I'm not willing to pay that price again.”  I finally answered.

“How much does it cost?  You have a lot of gold.”  Laouna was sincere in her question.  My half-answer would not be sufficient this time.

“It's not money that it costs.  For a new arm, I have to give up a little piece of what makes me the Lowin that you know.  I've given up a lot of that already.  I want to try and keep the rest.  I'm afraid of losing myself.”  I tried to explain again.  This time she seemed to understand.

“I don't want you to go away.”  She said, and put her arms around me.

“I'm not going anywhere.  I'll just have to make do with my single arm for now.  I think I'm doing well.”  I replied with a smile, and gave her another squeeze.

A loud knock sounded at my door, and I got up from the bed, hesitantly separating myself from Malice.  I crossed the dark room and opened the door.  Light spilled in from the hall.  Snow was standing in the opening.  She looked distressed.  I had not seen much of her since our voyage had begun.  I'd been avoiding her.  Every time I saw her, I was reminded that she had betrayed me.  That still stung, like a wound that had become infected.  The more of her I saw, the less of her I wanted to.

“What is it?”  I asked, unhappy to be disturbed in the middle of the night, whether I was asleep or not, and even less happy to see Snow.

“One of the Black Patch Brigade on deck is refusing to obey an order from Ethaniel.”  She said urgently,

“They can't refuse. . .”  I began to say they couldn't refuse an order, but the look of concern on Snow's face silenced my words.  If a black cloak was refusing an order, then it was certainly a matter I needed to look into.  The ramifications of such an occurrence were profound, and quite possibly dangerous to the entire ship.

I took only enough time to grab my sword and cloak from my room.

“Stay here, keep the door locked, and don't open it unless I tell you to.”  I told Malice as I left the room.  There was fear in her eyes, though she seemed outwardly calm.  She nodded at my words.  I pulled the door shut and waited until I heard the bolt latch.  I fell in behind Snow who led the way through the halls.  There were no guards posted at my doors, for I had deemed them unnecessary so far out to sea.  For some reason, their absence, despite the fact that it had been that way for over a month, sent a chill of foreboding through me.

Above me waited trouble.  I could only hope it wasn't as bad as I feared it might be.

The deck was quiet as I came up from my quarters below, as it always was, but there was a notable tension in the air.  The active crew for the night had all come to a stop, eyes fixed on one location.  I didn't need to follow Snow any longer, for it was obvious where events were taking place.  I needed only follow the onlookers.  Black cloaks, Knights, and human crew alike had stopped to witness events as they unfolded.  Most troubling, I noted, was that the Black Patch Brigade had stopped in their work.  Under normal circumstances, if the magic governing their behavior was working as it should, they would have continued their tasks oblivious to the events around them.

There was electricity in the air, the crackling sensation of a fight about to erupt.  The crowd cleared way for me as I approached, and then all eyes settled upon my back.  I could feel the burning gaze of the black cloaks like hot coals on my flesh, but I ignored them and trudged on.  I found Ethaniel and the uncooperative member of the Brigade at the base of the main mast.  They were standing only a few feet apart.

“Noble.” Ethaniel greeted me, his right hand rested on his sword hilt.  His posture was aggressive.

“Ethaniel," I returned the greeting.  “there is a problem?”  I tried to keep my own posture relaxed, but every muscle in my body was ready to spring.

“Fener refuses to climb to the lookout tower for his shift.” Ethaniel said.  I looked at Fener, Ten, in the ancient numbering system used to assign the black cloaks their identities.  His facial expression was set, and his stance was hostile, hand on sword hilt.  He looked like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner and was just moments from lashing out.

“Fener, is there a reason you're not willing to do your duty?”  I asked the fearsome creature we had just, perhaps foolishly, pressed up against a wall.  He had nowhere to run, and if the situation didn't find a peaceful resolution, Fener would have to fight.  I did not expect much of an answer.  My verbal cue should have been enough to make him jump to his task, even though I had not directly ordered it.

“It is too high.”  He answered, in a voice both human and animal.  It was a clear and well spoken answer for all that it came out a near growl.

“I do not like climbing to the lookout.”  Fener added before I could offer anything further.

Using his proper black cloak calling, and with the authority of the king, he should have immediately sprung to his task, but instead he had given a clear reason why he did not wish to do what he was ordered.  That was an unprecedented behavior for one of the Brigade.

“If you don't wish to do one of your assigned duties, then you should find someone who is willing to take your shift in exchange for another task that they do not wish to complete.”  I offered, looking for a compromise.  I wasn't yet sure how to deal with a black cloak that was unwilling to do what he'd been told to.  I knew well the aggression of the Fell Beast that burned within them, and I wondered just how far the magical restraints must be slipping.

“Wait,” Ethaniel stopped me.  “this is his task.  He has been assigned it, and he should be the one to complete it.  Order him, as his ruler, to complete his assigned work.”  There was anger in Ethaniel's voice.  His control of the Knight's “voice” slipped a little as he spoke.

I wasn't sure whether Ethaniel was testing my range of authority over the black cloaks, or was being spiteful, but I did not want to give that order.  I wasn't sure what was happening with the magically bound warriors, but I did not believe that taking a stand on that point was a good idea.  If the Brigade was slipping its leash, I would only be giving it more reason to see myself and the rest of the Knights as enemies when the last of the restraints finally broke down entirely.  On the other hand, directly countering Ethaniel's order in front of the crew demeaned his authority.  I was angry that he had pushed me into such a place.

I looked at Fener, meeting his eyes.  There was a burning hostility there, but it was tempered by intelligence, and something that might have been humanity.  His eyes were not like those I was use to seeing when looking at one of the Black Patch Brigade.  Something almost imperceptible had changed within him.  Had it changed in all of them?  If so, what did that mean for the rest of us on our long journey?

“Fener, if I ordered you to do this task, with my authority as your king, would you do it?”  I asked him.  I felt the tension around me rise.  The hostile eyes of the black cloaks seemed to intensify their gaze.  For a moment I was certain, beyond a doubt, that violence was unavoidable.

“I would, my King.”  Fener said, though his teeth were clenched and I could almost feel the animosity pouring from him.  The magic bonds apparently had not crumpled entirely.  I did not intend to stress them any further, however.

“I will not give that order.  As your king, I recommend you find someone to switch duties with.  As long as the watch is maintained, there is no foul done, and no one will be punished.  Make sure you tell the officer in charge of scheduling who is to take your duty on the high watch, and what task you will be taking in return.  Is this understood, Fener?”  At my words, violence fled the air, though I heard Ethaniel swing about and walk away, his heavy steps letting me know that he was obviously dissatisfied with the way I'd handled the situation.  I would need to speak with him later.

“I understand, Drake Slayer.”  Fener said.  I nodded, and turned to return below decks.  “Drake Slayer,” the black cloaks never called me that.

“My name is Yuen.”  I heard, and I looked over my shoulder, trying to stifle my surprise.  The Fell-joined warrior had just given me his real name.  It was a name he shouldn't have remembered at all.  I knew that from working ceaselessly with Liet.

“Yuen, return to work.”  I bowed my head slightly and turned to depart.  Yuen.  The black cloaks were changing.

It was obvious that my hold was not lost entirely, but it was slipping.  What would happen when the magic binding the black cloaks faded entirely?  Why was it happening to begin with?  I had been assured by several different authorities on the matter that the magic binding the black cloaks would never fade, but if the magic wasn't fading, then the black cloaks were becoming resistant to its effects.

Either way, the ocean still stretched out far before us, and we were trapped aboard the ship with what could soon become a hostile force.  If the Brigade slipped their restraints, there was no telling what kind of troubles we could have.  Worse, they were all well armed and provisioned.  If they decided to fight, we would be outnumbered by well equipped warriors, and they would have the initiative.  Life aboard ship had just become more difficult.

Daily events settled into a strange rhythm.  The weeks drifted by slowly.  The black cloaks had settled into their own pacing, doing their work with as much vigor as ever, but there was no denying the changes happening amidst them.  They held conversations amongst themselves, enough so that no member of the crew could miss it.  They rarely spoke to anyone outside of their own, but they did occasionally.  They had gone to the Captain of their own volition and requested the watch be increased.  The Captain had come to me with the request, and I had allowed it.  They were watching for something, and I was not inclined to stir their hostilities by standing in their way.  Telistera had suggested an increased watch as well, and it seemed wise to fulfill both requests at once.

Ethaniel had been livid when I told him what I'd done.

“You will allow more of them to walk armed around the ship at one time?”  He had almost yelled.  “They are the greatest threat that this voyage faces!”

“They have not been outwardly hostile or violent to any member of the crew yet, and I will not treat them differently from any other member of the crew until they give me reason to do so.”  I'd told him.

“You are a fool, Noble.  A damned fool.”  He'd slammed the door to my room as he left, and I had seen little of him since.

He might have been right.  I didn't know what was happening to the black cloaks, and I was perhaps not being as cautious as I should have been.  I couldn't bring myself to treat them as lesser members of the crew, not when they were doing their part of the work and asking for almost nothing in return.  My weakness there, I knew, might come back to haunt me in the future.

I had kept up my conversations with Liet, though they had actually turned into conversations, and not one sided questioning as was the usual result of our time together.  Liet responded in rational, if not brief, sentences, and there was a spark of humanity in his eyes when he looked at me.  He had even preempted me once, and asked how I had been without me initiating the dialogue.  He had delivered the question in a cold and indifferent manner, but it was a change of pace I had not expected.  It was those conversations with Liet that made me put a, perhaps unreasonable, amount of faith in the black cloaks.

When I looked into Liet's eyes, I could see the humanity shining out from inside of them.  The Fell Beast was still there, and it was powerful and deadly, but Liet was there as well.  The magic was failing, but as it left, it seemed that the part of the black cloaks that was human was growing stronger.  It made me wonder, when they had been created, which part of their being had been the most strongly repressed?

I had always assumed that it was the Fell Beast that had been locked furthest away, but perhaps it was the human free will that had been bolted most firmly beneath the trappings of magic.  The Fell Beast was all fury and power, valuable characteristics to a man with no other purpose than war, but a human could think, and would always try to find a way out of the shackles of slavery.  I was certain the Fell Beast part of them yearned for freedom as well, but which part of them would it have been most distressing to see begging for freedom?  The Beast?  The Man?  It was the man.  If we had seen a man imprisoned every time we looked at the black cloaks, could we have so easily sent them to die in our wars?  Could we have so easily ordered them to serve menial positions with no personal benefit?

Of course, this was all just speculation on my part.  I didn't know for certain, and Liet had never indicated such.  For me, it became a matter of refusing to treat the black cloaks like lesser men because of what they were.  They had fought beside me through perilous situations, and seen countless numbers of their brethren fall to the fires of battle.  I would not treat them as an enemy, until they gave me some indication that they were, in fact, an enemy.  It might not be the most reasonable course of action, but it was the right course of action in my eyes.

I was sitting in my cabin, contemplating the issue of the Brigade, when I felt a strange swaying in my body, and my stomach lurched ever-so-slightly.  I stood up immediately and turned to Malice who was lounging on her bed.

“Did you feel that?”  I asked, making sure it hadn't just been me.

“It feels like we've stopped.”  She answered.

“Yes . . . like we stopped.”  I hadn't realized what that feeling had been until she'd put into words.  Our ship had just stopped.  Not suddenly, but gradually as thought it had just slowly drifted to a halt.  I'd been in motion so long, that it was disconcerting to not be moving.  I grabbed my sword and cloak and headed for the door.  Malice was immediately behind me, her own cloak and sword in hand.  I stopped.

“You should stay below decks.”  I told her.

“I want to see what's happening.”  She replied, and I could tell by the tone of her voice that attempting to force her to stay below decks might not be effective, and would waste a good deal of time either way.  I decided not to argue.

The floor of the ship, on which Malice and I shared a room, was only occupied with the other Knights of Ethan, so the halls were quiet as we made our way to the upper deck.  When we got there, a good deal of the crew had already amassed.  There were at least fifty percent of the black cloaks on board the ship, as well as all the Knights and human crew.  I looked up to the ships sails, expecting to see some kind of damage, but all the sails were still there.  However, they hung limply on the masts.

It was then that I realized that there was no breeze touching my face.  I made my way to the railing and looked out over the sea.  It was as still as I'd ever seen it, for as far as the eye could see.  The sky was clear and bright, and the sun beat down, making what should have been a cold day, almost seem warm.

All thoughts and worries concerning the black cloaks fled in that moment.  We had a much more urgent problem at hand.  Telistera had warned that the winds might stop.  She'd also warned of what would happen when they did. No ship, no matter how well designed, could sail without wind.  For the first time since leaving Risthis, our ship had come to a stop.

“They'll be coming.”  I turned from the railing to face the speaker.  It was Telistera.  She was looking out over the ocean.  “They'll keep coming until the ship can sail again, or until we're sunk.”

“What do you think we should do?”  I asked the silver-eyed woman, stifling the sudden feeling of despair that threatened to overtake me.

“We need to prepare ourselves for attack, get the weapons ready to fire.  I built these ships specifically to fend off the monsters of the deep, and unfortunately we'll have to see if I've done a good enough job.  I'd planned for three ships working in unison, but we won't have that now.”  Telistera said.

“Our ship is so huge.  Whatever is down there can't be big enough to fight a vessel of this size.”  Malice said from where she stood at my side.

Telistera smiled wanly.  “The largest of them bit one of our ships in half in a single pass.”

Malice went pale.  I had already heard that story, and though I believed Telistera, I could not imagine any creature so large actually existed.  While my trust for Telistera told me it must be so, my mind failed to fathom the reality of the situation.  I had seen the black drakes, and they were massive, but these creatures of the deep, if Telistera described them accurately, were far larger than those.  That such creatures could survive anywhere in our world seemed unbelievable.

“They move very slowly, and we will see them coming from a long ways off.  That is the only advantage we have.  If we can get the ship underway, we can outrun them.  If we can't get underway, we can use our weapons before they get dangerously close.  If we can hurt them enough, they might leave us be.”  Telistera's words were meant as encouragement, but it was hard to think positively in the face of such a monstrous opponent.

“Maybe they won't come.”  Malice said, echoing a thought that had just been teasing through my own head.  “The sea is massive.  Maybe they won't find us before the wind picks up again.”

I held that hope as well, but the look on Telistera's face dashed much of my confidence.  I could tell before she even spoke that such luck was unlikely, at least in her eyes.

“That is a possibility.”  She said, but her eyes said that it was a remote possibility.  It was time for us to wait and watch.

We waited, time passing in an exquisite parity of its usual fleeting self.  A day passed, and then another, and still no wind came to fill our sails.  The crew, even the normally stoic black cloaks, were growing agitated.  There was an unpleasant tension in the air, colored by a fear of the unknown, and Telistera's even more potent fear of the known.  She carried herself well, but those who had spent any time with her could see the unease resting upon her shoulders.  Her silver eyes, which were so difficult to read, held a strange, paranoid edge.

Our ship, though driven by those most would consider monsters, was crewed by those who'd started their lives as human men and women, and even the Black Patch Brigade, those of us least tied to what we once were, still held some semblance of humanity.  No man, woman or child could have faced that situation without some sense of fear.  We sat waiting to be consumed by a beast of legend come to life.  We were forced to accept that not only were sea monsters real, but that they might very well be creeping towards us from the endless depths in which we were trapped.

The third day dawned, the horizon blistered red and purple, the light casting ominous shadows across the surface of the deck.  The voice of the lookout in the high-watch called loud and piercing, shattering the quiet that had settled on the ship over the previous two days.

“Movement to port!”  He was a human man.  I didn't know his real name, but I knew him by face.  He was friendly, and a hard worker.  His crew mates called him Sticky, I'd been told, because he was so sure footed climbing up and down the masts and lines of ships.  I'd never imagined hearing such a terrible portent from a man named “Sticky.”

The crew made their way to the port side deck, everyone gathering and straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of what had caught the attention of the watch.  It was Tower who saw it first.  He pointed.

“I can see it, just barely.  It's still far away, but it's coming in this direction, no doubt about that.”  His voice was grim, and his face seemed paler than it normally was.  Again, fear.

“Sticky," I called to the high-watch.  “can you guess as to how long we have until it gets here?”

“An hour, maybe less.  It's hard to say, Noble.  It's easier to judge things moving on the surface of the water, this just looks like a bubble with only part at the surface.  If the water wasn't so still. . .”  His words trailed off.

“Telistera?”  I called.  Her voice answered from a little way down the deck.

“That's it.  It travels just below the surface, but it'll come further out of the water as it gets closer.”  She said, her voice had taken on an unearthly calm.  “We should man the port guns, and prep the sinker cannon.”

I'd heard of the sinker cannon, but I did not know what it was, or what it did.  I knew that it was a downward facing weapon that could fire below the deck of the ship but I wasn't sure about how that functioned practically.  Telistera had seen to its installation, and she was certain of its importance.  That was good enough for me.

“How can you be sure it will attack from port?  What if it swings around, and comes from another side?”  It was the voice of another of the human crew.  Who exactly, I couldn't' tell amidst the crowd.

“It won't swing around.  It's not worried about strategy, and it's not afraid of us or anything else on this ocean.  It has no reason to fear.  It will not deviate from its course.  They never do.”  Telistera's answer silenced any more questions.

“To battle ready positions, men.”  I gave the order over the silence, and the crew exploded into motion.  The men on duty knew where they were supposed to be, and everyone got there as quickly as they could.  In doing their duty, they could take their minds off of the situation for at least a few moments.

The main mast was levered such that it could be folded down, and that preparation was underway.  I had never known why Telistera had designed such a difficult feature into the ship, but she had explained that it was to keep the mast from shearing off during an attack.  As the men prepared the ship for battle, the great mast tucked down, the sail folding away with it.  Without the sail up, the ship really did seem vulnerable, though I knew the windless fabric offered no real protection.

I felt a pressure at my side, and knew without looking that it was Malice.  In times of trouble, she was always as close to me as she could possibly be.  I turned to face her. She was looking out over the port railing, her hood pulled low so I couldn't see the expression on her face.  I felt no shaking in her body.  She was as firm at my side as ever she was.  The only indication that she was at all anxious was how close she'd gotten to me, but perhaps she was doing that for my benefit?  As that thought struck me, it occurred to me that maybe something of the old Malice was beginning to return.

“We've fought monsters before.  This one will be no different.”  I told her, trying to infuse as much confidence into my voice as possible.  I spoke loudly, so all those around me could hear, though the comment was primarily for Malice's benefit.  Being in charge meant that I had to put on a brave face, even when I felt terrified inside.  Of all times, it was in the face of death that being calm was most important.

No one had ever told me that, but I had seen it in those around me throughout my life.  I had seen it in Tempest, the Knight of Ethan who had fought off the Shao Geok to save Kyeia and myself years before.  I had seen it so often in Malice, throughout the years, when we'd fought in battles that could have easily been our last, and even as she stood by me at that moment, apparently stoic and at ease.  That calm, Lucidil had possessed it, Ethaniel possessed it, all of the great men and women I'd known had mastered it.  It was my turn to try.  I wouldn't know if I succeeded, because there was no mark by which to compare, but if I did succeed, my men would fight better.  They would be stronger in the face of fear.  We all might survive yet another battle.

So, with fear biting away at my spirit, I stood with my back stiff, my shoulders firm, and my eyes fixed on the coming threat.  I kept my face as calm and indifferent as possible, and told myself, “This is just another battle, and you do not lose in battle.  You are unstoppable.  You will save Kaylien.”

“I know.  Lowin never loses.”  I heard Malice say, and for a moment I thought she was talking directly to my inner voice, but then I realized that she was actually replying to what I'd said a few moments before.

“Never.”  I agreed.  At the horizon, and moving with slow but meaningful progress, the great bulge in the Seep was now obvious for everyone to see.

Time no longer passed slowly.  It seemed that the great swell moving towards us came with increasing speed as it grew nearer.  It wasn't until it began to draw close that I fully came to appreciate just how large it was.  Our ship was massive, but the swell that approached us, and whatever lay beneath it, was several times the size of our ship.

The water, normally a brilliant blue-green under the light of the sun, was black where the bubble began.  A low rumble coursed through the water, and the vibrations hit our ship and made the timber groan in reply.  The depth of the sound was such that it made my bones shake inside my skin.

“Stand strong!”  I called out to the men standing on deck.  I had felt the bone chilling sound all the way to the core of my person, and I was sure everyone else had felt the same.  If ever they needed encouragement, it was then.  The mass grew larger, and suddenly the bubble broke, and something began to emerge from the water, still multiple ship lengths away from us.

“Listen for Telistera's signal.  Do not fire until you have Telistera's word!”  I called out loudly.  They all knew what to do, but in times of stress people could make mistakes.  By reaffirming the orders, I was both establishing a verbal presence that let the crew know I was still leading, and reaffirming the orders, making sure that everyone remembered what they were supposed to be doing during the most stressful of times.

A massive form erupted up from the depths of the ocean, stretching upward into the sky as though an entire castle, some impossibly large structure, was clawing its way up from the depths of the sea.  The ocean heaved in answer to its movement, and for the first time in a long while, the entire ship moved across the surface of the water, propelled by the wave produced by the demon creature emerging from the ocean waters.

Though I had seen many monsters in my life, I had witnessed none as terrible as what drew itself up from the depths of the Great Salt Seep.  Its body was a gray so dark that it was almost black, but for its underside that was a sickly gray-white.  It stretched as long as four or more ships the size of ours, and was wider at the mouth than any ship was long, bow to stern.  It had fins that were larger that our ship by far.  Stranger still, it had no eyes, but depthless pits along its fore-body, deep black holes, each large enough to swallow a smaller vessel, puncturing the skin like tunnels to the beast's insides.  There were six of these holes, three on each side of the creature's terrible head.

Around its mouth were appendages, long and reaching, like massive writhing snakes, but barbed with vicious claws that looked sharp enough to rend flesh, wood, and possibly metal.  It mouth, though, was the worst part of all.  As it drew closer it opened that orifice, and I looked into the depths of a horror I had never before imagined.  Its teeth were layered, each larger than two hands put together, and there were thousands upon thousands of them lining its mouth, and going back into the darkness of its insides.  By some mechanism of life that I have never before witnessed, those teeth churned about inside of the thing's maw, undulating in a fashion that I knew would devastate anything that came in contact with them.  The beast was bearing down upon us.

“Men, make ready!”  I called out loudly so that my voice could clear the sound of crashing water, and that terrible bass rumble that I took to be the voice of the monster before us.  To their credit, no man had yet fired their cannon.  The ship had been tossed by the wave from the beast rising out of the water, but we still faced it on the port side.  I was relieved.  I had feared we would be turned in the suddenly turbulent waters.  Our cannons were ready. We were just waiting on Telistera's word.  I looked to the silver-eyed woman.  She seemed surprisingly calm, but I could see the sheen of sweat on her brow.  She was terrified.  I thought no less of her for that.

I was terrified as well.

I have never felt so completely powerless before, as I did in the face of that monster of the sea.  I drew my sword and stood transfixed as it approached, though I quickly sheathed my weapon again, realizing it would do nothing against the foe before me.  My strength would be as meaningless to that beast, as a leaf is to an autumn breeze.  I had faced opponents of such monstrous size that men considered them nigh indestructible, but the dragon of the ocean was a beast to rule all others.

Cavernous jaws, wide enough to engulf a portion of the ship, gaped off the port railing.  As they loomed nearer, I found myself suddenly certain that I was staring into the abyss of death.  A deep bass rumble sounded once more, and the world reverberated, shaking so hard that even my vision trembled.

“Fire port cannons!”  I heard Telistera yell.  Her voice was followed by the explosive percussion of our ship's armaments.  They were twice as powerful as normal ship cannons, but would they have any effect against the enemy before us?  I would have my answer soon enough.

I did not see the cannonballs in flight, but I saw the damage their impacts wrought upon the beast.  The heavy metal shot tore away massive pieces of flesh, many larger than any three or four men combined.  Where the leaden projectiles hit inside the creatures mouth, teeth shattered and skin ripped like fabric under a sharp knife.  Another bass note tore through the air, shaking the boat, and making me feel as though my bones were trying to jump out of my skin.  I knew that the cannon teams would be readying to fire again.  Time was getting short.  The creature was still drawing nearer.  It had not slowed in its progression.  Our weapons, for all the damage they had dealt, had not fazed our attacker.

The sun was still low in the sky, and as the beast drew nearer, its massive bulk blocked out the light, so that it seemed suddenly dark.  Morning had become night in an instant.  I did not know how much time passed, but cannon fire shook the ship once more, again tearing into putrid gray flesh, and again not slowing the creature's advance.  Our cannons would get one, maybe two, more shots before it was upon us, and any further shooting would be done directly into the monster as it devoured our vessel.

“How did your people escape when this happened?”  I asked Telistera while we stood in the shadow of death, the smell of cannon powder filling the air, as well as a terrible rotting stench coming from the mouth of the beast before us.

“Our people did not escape.  No ship that was targeted by those demons broke free, Noble.  Not one.”  Her words were like the chiming of a burial bell, clear and infinitely heart rending.

The percussive sound of our cannons firing again filled the air, for a moment, dulling the terrible bass rumble that threatened to rend our ship apart before the creature was even upon us.  The gaping mouth of the thing now loomed overhead, and I could see with exquisite detail the undulating teeth within that terrible maw.  I felt a pressure at my side.

“Laouna, get below decks.”  I yelled, realizing that I did not want her to see what was coming.  “Clear the deck!”  I called to the crew in general.  The creature was upon us, and being atop the ship was no longer a good idea.  The crew fled at my command, the few top-side cannons abandoned.  Those below deck might get another chance to fire, and we still had Telistera's secret weapon.  Would we get a chance to use it before our ship was consumed?

While the crew was running below decks, I noticed that Laouna was still at my side.  The sound of cannon fire echoed again, and I looked up, and toward the port rail.  All I could see was the terrifying jaws of the demon that wanted to consume our craft and everyone aboard.  I would not go below until everyone else was safe.

“Laouna, get below decks.  Go to our quarters.”  I told her again, this time more firmly.

“I'm not going to leave you.”  She said.

“Get below decks, now.”  I told her again, anger touching my voice.  I wanted her to be safe, or at least some place safer than where we stood at that moment.  I was certain we were going to die, and I did not want to see her death.  So long as I could believe that she was safely below decks, in our room, I could keep functioning, but if she perished before me, I knew I would lose myself entirely.

“I don't want to die alone, Lowin.” She pleaded, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Below decks now!”  I shouted, that Fell Beast part of me coming through in my voice, making it a dangerous growl.  She started, looked at me with eyes wide with shock, and then turned and fled down the hatch amidst the crowd of crew members.  She was gone, and I felt little better for it.  Would those be the last words I said to her?  What if I did not see her again before. . .

I made myself stop that thought before I finished it.  We would not die.

“Everyone off the deck!”  I yelled once more, though the last few people were already filtering below.  They did not need my encouragement.  The great jaws were descending, falling slowly through the air towards the ship.  What more could I do out in the open myself?  I looked around to make certain everyone was below, and then I retreated.  I stood at the door for a moment, and watched as the massive mouth of the creature collapsed upon our ship.  Those terrible teeth, churning and grinding, would soon be rending our vessel to dust and debris.  The entire ship shook as the powerful jaws took hold.  I closed the door and went below.  The creature's mouth had latched onto nearly a quarter of our ship.

The crew, black cloaks, Knights, and humans, lined the halls, those that were not manning cannons.  All eyes were on me, as though they expected I would have something insightful, or hopeful to say.  At that moment, I should have had something to give them, words, a smile, anything, but though I searched myself for some tiny morsel to hand them, I could find nothing.

“To the cannons, I want every cannon that can hit that thing, firing.”  I said quietly, but it was loud enough.  People heard and they sprang to action.  I had only told them to do what was logical, but apparently it had been what they needed.  I looked for Malice, but I did not see her among the crew in the hall.  I made my way downward, to the bowels of the ship.  Telistera would be there, along with our one remaining, untried weapon.  The ship rocked ominously around me, and the sound of wood splintering echoed through the hull.  Would we stay afloat, or be dragged to the bottom of the sea?

I found Telistera where I thought I would, in the very bottom of the ship.  She was near the firing mechanism for the sinker cannon, and I immediately knew something was wrong.  She was flustered, and for the first time ever, I saw outward panic on her face.  There were two black cloaks standing near her, watching her, and they too looked uneasy.  It was strange seeing them so.

“Telistera?”  I asked as I approached.  The hull groaned loudly around us, and a loud crack sounded from somewhere far away.  How much time did we have left?  I didn't know, but I guessed it wasn't much.

“The firing mechanism is locked from the outside.”  Telistera explained, without me needing to prompt her at all.  “We locked it at the dock when we loaded it, for the safety of the crew there.  When we left, because of the trouble we had, we never unlocked it.  We can't fire the weapon.  She slammed her fist on the wood console in front of her.  The wood there groaned at her abuse, but did not give.  I only hoped the rest of the ship was holding up so well.  It was a strong ship.

“Can this be fixed?”  I asked, trying to maintain my outward calm.  The news that our final weapon wasn't working, was a devastating hit.

“The locking pins need to be pulled from outside the hull.  Until then, we can't aim, and we can't fire.”  To punctuate her words, another loud crack sounded, and was followed by the sounds of surprisingly large amounts of water gushing into places that no water should be.

“Tell me what I need to do, and I'll go out and do it.”  I told her.  It was a rash decision, but circumstances were dire.  I had no desire to leave the ship, but soon enough it would be destroyed, along with everyone aboard it.  I wasn't ready to lose them all.  Their lives were my responsibility, and more, if the ship sank, Kay would have no one left to save her.

“You can't go out there, you'll be eaten alive.  What will. . .”  The hull creaked loudly and another splintering crack sounded from somewhere distant.

“Tell me now, and tell me fast Telistera, how do I do what needs to be done?  Once you've explained it to me, get as many men fixing punctures as you can until I get the weapon ready.   Do you understand?”  I filled my voice with command, and Telistera nodded numbly.

She pulled out a technical drawing from beside the wooden firing console and showed me the points that were secured by pins.  Three pins were in place to lock the cannon in its tucked away position, and one pin locked the firing mechanism from engaging.  I would need to remove all four, from the underside of the ship, before we could use the cannon.

“Noble, you should send someone else.  With your arm you're not . . .” Telistera began, but I stopped her with an upheld hand.

“I'll not order anyone to do this.  When I have the pins undone, I will knock three times on the cannon barrel.  Listen for knocking, and fire when you hear it.”  I told her firmly.  Unlike when I had sent Ethaniel and Snow over the wall at Risthis, this was a task that would likely prove fatal.  I would not order another in my place, not when I knew the risks.

“We can't fire until you're well clear of the ship.  This blast is far stronger than . . ." She began, but I stopped her again.

“Give me to the count of twenty, and then fire one way or the other.”  The ship groaned all around us, and creaked loudly.  “Twenty, and no more.”  I turned and started away.  I put on speed instantly, letting my body accelerate with every step.  I had to be fast.   Time was short.  I had to go back up on deck, and then go over the railing and down underneath the ship.  I was not an experienced swimmer, but that didn't matter.  I would do what had to be done.  I had to do it.

Deckward I flew, stopping only long enough to trade out my sword for a long knife, and to leave my cloak behind.  As much as I found comfort in my sword and cloak, I knew they would be no assistance to me in the depthless waters of the sea.  I fastened the knife sheath to my right leg, and tore forward again.  The world blurred about me, and within half a minute of my conversation with Telistera, I was approaching the final door that would lead me back out onto the exterior of the ship.

I exited onto the deck on the starboard side of the vessel.  The ascension was a difficult one, with the boat rocking precariously, and the hull shaking with constant bass reverberations.  The scene on deck was a nightmare.  The sea monster was latched on to our ship, its hungering gape working at the wood.  I could hear the grinding of its teeth biting into the material of our ship, and wondered how much damage had already been wrought.  All told, nearly a quarter of the ship was already engulfed in the creature's rending maw.  If not for the exceptional strength of our craft, I knew that we would be destroyed already.  No normal boat would have withstood such a terrible fury.

The massive dark pits, those holes in the creature's head that seemed to take the place of its eyes, were like voids staring into me as I gazed upon the ruin that was devouring the ship Telistera had built.  I was transfixed, but only for a second, and then I tore my attention free and made my way to the starboard railing.  I looked over.

The distance to the water below seemed immense from on high, but I did not hesitate.  I tossed one of the rope ladders over the side and plunged downward, using the rope only so much as I needed to keep myself from impacting the water with dangerous force.  That salty water was bitter cold as it touched my body.  It was the sort of chill that reached directly through your skin and into the muscle below.  I knew, should I survive, I would be hard pressed to shake that frost from my bones.  I took a breath and plunged beneath the surface.  The water, where it was touched by the sun, was clear and bright, though it descended forever downward, into a darkness so absolute, that it was impossible not to feel intimidated by the immensity.  Was there any end to that pit?  I wasn't certain.

I ignored the abyss, and dragged myself along the bottom of the ship, using my clawed hand and feet to make progress.  It was slow going, despite my best attempt to propel myself forward with haste.  I tried to use my body's uncanny speed, but it did not work right under the water.  The friction of the water around me made my movements imprecise, and wasted a lot of energy.  With practice I might master it, but I hoped my actions would need never be repeated.  By the time I reached the cannon, I was already growing concerned about my ability to hold my breath.  How long had I been under?  Maybe a minute, certainly no more than that, and a good deal of it wasted scrambling and trying to figure out how best to move.   It was surprising how long so short a time could seem.

I found the first of the four pins quickly enough, and set to work on removing it.  It was one of the pins that locked the cannon into place under the ship, so that it couldn't swing out while in dock and snag on the relatively shallow ground below.  It was stuck tight, and I had to leverage my entire body against the ship to pull it free.  The ship shook and groaned while I worked, a protest at the abuse wrought by its attacker.  I looked toward the port side once, and saw the massive form of the beast from below, its white-gray belly stretching out until it was consumed by the relative murkiness of the water.  I did not look that direction again.  If it had been terrifying to see from above, it was more so in the world below the water.  I was in the creature's domain.

The first pin came free, my lungs were beginning to burn.  I realized, with distress, that I would need to go up for air before I took out another pin.  I didn't want to, but my heart was beginning to pound heavily in my ears, and I could feel a sense of panic welling up inside of me.  I reached for the edge of the cannon mount, and was about to pull myself across the ship when something grabbed my ankle and tugged downwards.

In my surprise and terror, I lost my grip on the ship.  Before I was even certain what was happening, I felt myself being dragged into the icy depths.  I looked down.  There was a strange fish-like animal below me, with black eyes and a fierce mouth full of sharp teeth.  It looked like a natural denizen of the sea, larger than a man, a body with fins and a powerful tail, fins that were pointed and lethal looking, but the creature had arms, or at least some semblance of arms, at its sides, below its side flukes.  It had grabbed a hold of my leg with one of its pincered hands, and was carrying me into the waiting black below.

I tried to pull my leg away, but the creature's grip did not give.  My lungs were burning even worse.  In desperation I drew my dagger and dived at the fish-man thing.  It took no notice of my struggling, at least until the moment my knife pierced its head.  I drove the blade in with all the force I could muster, and its foul black eyes rolled back in its head.  Its mouth, full of sharp little teeth gaped open, but it did not release its grip.  Its body was floating downward, and it was taking me with it.  I tried to swim away, but it was too heavy, even in the water.

There was a fire burning in my chest.

I swung downward with all of my might, hacking at the beast's clawed appendage again and again.  Each stroke of my blade stole more air from my lungs.  The world was growing dim before my eyes.  Three more pins.  I had three more pins to free.

In the darkness there were spots of color.

Panic.

I gashed at my dead tormentor's arm again and again, striking my leg once in my mad dash to free myself.  Then, as suddenly as it had grabbed me, the thing's weight was gone.  It was too late.  I couldn't control the impulse overwhelming me any longer.  I felt my mouth open, and I breathed in hard, taking in a mouthful, then a lung-full, of the briny green liquid.

Something peculiar happened then.  I should have died, but I didn't.  I felt the pain in my chest lessen, and the burning began to flee.  The colored spots fled from my vision, and then the darkness.  I found myself sucking in another lung full of water, and pushing it out.  It was difficult to do, but for some reason there was air in the water.  My lungs were drawing air where there shouldn't be any.  I was as a fish, drawing air from the cold brine.  Without knowing why, I was suddenly certain that this was another aspect of my body's unusual ability to adapt to hostile environments.   Certainly no other had ever experienced such a rapid change, but how else could I explain my ability to breathe water?  I swam back to the ship cannon, and set to work on the next of the three remaining pins.  I couldn't be certain what incredible break in fortune was allowing me to survive when I should certainly have died, but I would not let such good luck go to waste.

I had to use my knife to pry the second pin free, and the next one.  I finally came to the last.  It seemed as though I had been under water for hours, but I knew it was probably closer to four or five minutes.  For the ship, being torn apart by the great monster of the sea, it might as well have been hours.  The last pin was the hardest to reach.  I was forced to wedge myself behind the cannon to find a grip on it, and when I finally did get a hold, it was difficult to get leverage to pull the pin out.  I pulled with all the strength I could muster, and was rewarded.  The final pin came free in my hand.  I tucked it into my belt-pack with the others, and pulled out my knife.

I hammered on the barrel of the cannon three times to signal Telistera that it was time to fire, and turned to flee back towards the starboard side of the ship.  The cannon was already turning to fire at our gigantic attacker.  Something grabbed my ankle.  I looked down.  It was another of those monsters, like the one I'd just killed.  Again it started to drag me downward, slowly.  I twisted my grip on my knife, and swung to attack it.  Time was counting down.  How long before they fired the cannon?  Would I be far enough away when it happened?  I struck out at the fish-creature, and felt a hand grab at my hair.  I twisted in the water and came face to face with another of the wretched beasts.  Its mouth was agape, its black eyes, dark and soulless, bore into my face with obvious hunger.  I struck out violently, my knife tearing through the creatures head.  A gout of blood filled the water, and that creature jerked, spasming, and releasing my hair in the process.  It drifted downward and away.  The other creature, having seen what just transpired, tugged harder at my leg.

I began to bend down to strike at it.  A ripple passed through the water around me.  Time, how much time was left?  Pressure hit me, a force so strong that everything in the world rippled and distorted, and then a dull rumble was everywhere.  The entire sea about me seemed to be groaning and throbbing.  My ears rang, and then I was struck by a devastating force of pressure and everything fell away from me.

I struggled to remain conscious, but there was no way I could do so.  I felt myself being pushed through the water, as though thrown through the air, and then there was nothing but the absolute darkness of the great abyss.  My last thought, before total blackness consumed all thought, was that I had fallen to the bottom of the sea, and I would never return from that great darkness.

There was a light in the darkness, and in front of that light was the hulking form of a Fell Beast, a dark outline against the brightness of the glow beyond.  It stood over me, back turned away.  A single arm stretched out from its right side.  Its left shoulder terminated abruptly, as did mine.  As I stirred, it turned to me and I caught a glint of a circle of bright red fur on its wrist.

“I'm dead.”  I said, my voice a rasp.

“Not yet.”  A growling reply came, and then the illusion shattered, and I felt burning pain from all over my body.  The form of the Fell Beast vanished, and was replaced by the face of Snow, leaning over me, her features framed by the dim light of a torch.

“He's awake.”  I heard her say, though her voice was almost blocked out by a loud ringing in both of my ears.  I heard movement from somewhere else, and I turned to look.  There were others in the room, but one of the shapes, blurry and indistinct to my eyes, got up and left as I struggled to make sense of what was happening about me.  Through the ringing hiss in my ears, I heard the door shut behind whoever had departed.  A hand on my shoulder brought my eyes back to Snow.  There was a look of relief on her features, unshed tears behind the pink-tinged windows to her soul.  I didn't understand her.  She had betrayed me to a situation that could have killed me, but there she stood, her features tortured by worry.

“How do you feel?”  It was Silver who spoke, though I couldn't immediately see her.  Things beyond my immediate vicinity were blurry, difficult to make out.

“I hurt . . . ears are ringing . . . vision blurry.”  I said.  I found that my voice was raspy, so dry that it felt like it was cutting my throat as I spoke.

Silver moved into my line of sight.  She looked tired.

“When we found you, we thought you were dead.  The impact wave from the cannon threw you a good way out to sea.  You were floating face down in the water.  When we pulled you aboard, and discovered that you were alive, there was so little of you undamaged, that we were certain you would be dead within the day.  Here we are, less than a single day later, and you're already awake.”  Silver said, shrugging as if she couldn't make any sense of it, and didn't wish to try.

At her words, the events leading up to my injuries came back clearly, and I sat upright in bed, my head spun as I did, and I almost collapsed back into the pillows and blankets from which I'd just risen.

“The ship?  What's the situation?”  I asked, my voice no better than it had been.  The ringing intensified as I sat up.  I could feel my body burning, parts of me healing that I had not even known I could damage.

“The beast is gone.  The wind recovered while we were making repairs.  We're underway again, though patching and pumping are ongoing.  Most of our emergency supplies for repairing the ship are used, especially tar and wood braces.  We're still taking on water slowly in some parts of the hull, but we've assigned teams of men to work the pumps to keep the water out.  As long as we keep our eyes on the problem, we should be able to manage it.”  It was Snow who answered me this time.  I did not meet her eyes.

Someone handed me a glass of water, and I took it, looking up to see the face of whoever had done so.  My hand nearly froze halfway to the cup.  It was Liet, his fierce eyes, not as fierce as they generally were.

“Thank you, Liet.”  I said, taking the cup from the black cloak.  He nodded his head, but did not reply.  Liet should have either been on duty, or back in his quarters.  As one of the Brigade, it was not normal behavior for him to worry about my injuries, even if I was his king.  However, I found myself pleased that he was there.  There was one face that was not among those around.  One that I had expected, and that I wanted to see above all others.  My vision was slowly clearing, but Malice was not in the room from what I could tell.  I remembered my last words with her the day before, and winced.

“You should keep resting.  You're not fully healed yet.”  It was Silver's voice.  She had been trained in battlefield medicine.  She was the closest thing to a healer our ship had.  I downed my glass of water in a single heavy swallow, feeling the rejuvenating liquid course through my system.  I placed the cup on the table at the side of my bed.  I swung my feet out over the edge of the bed and stood up, though everyone watching seemed to wince as I did so.

“I've rested too long already.  I want to see the damage to the ship myself.”  My legs felt a little shaky, so I stepped lightly as I moved, making sure each foot was well planted before moving the next.

“As the ship's healer . . .” Silver began, but I cut her off.

“You are well qualified to give advice, but I am far from the normal patient, Silver.  I heal better on my feet.”  I used a tone of voice that had an edge of command to it.

Silver shook her head.  “Ethaniel was right. You really are a damned fool.”  She smiled, and that took the sting out of her words.  I couldn't count the number of times I'd heard that exact phrase from the first Knight.  I noted that he was not present, but was not surprised.  He had other business to manage.  Really, of those who'd gathered; Snow, Silver, Liet and Tower, only Silver needed to be there.

“How is the crew?”  I asked, perhaps belatedly.  I didn't think anyone had died, but then I couldn't know for certain.

“The crew is fine.  You were the only person to suffer any injuries during the attack.”

“. . . we killed the beast?”  I queried with uncertainty.

All faces looked uneasy at that question.

Liet answered.  “It lives.  Injured, scared it away.  Silver-eyed woman says it would come again, but the winds will carry us beyond it.”  His voice was gruff, but his answer was well expressed.

I looked at him for a moment.  We'd all seen the changes in the black cloaks, but never had they been so clear.  All pretense of what they'd been before seemed gone.  If the Black Patch Brigade had been keeping it to themselves that they were changing, Liet was quickly dispelling any such deception.

“Let us hope, then, that the winds do not waver again.”  The ringing in my ears was beginning to fade, and I could hear the creaking of the ship underway.  It was a comforting sound.

“What should I see first?”  I asked Silver.

“There is very little that needs your personal attention, Noble.  The repairs are mostly finished, and the ship is sailing as normal.  Personally viewing the repairs will not make them hold any better.”  She answered.  I knew her words were true, but I felt that I had not done my part to help the ship recover from the damage.  While the others had worked, I had slept.  That grated on me.

“Perhaps it would do well by the crew to see you up and about.”  Silver said, after a short pause.  “We can start with the bottom deck.  Repairs are still going on there.  We'll work our way up to the upper deck from there, but if you get tired, or need to rest, make sure you let me know.”

I smiled, though the expression was far from heartfelt.  “I'll be fine.”

Silver looked skeptical.

Snow seemed about on the verge to say something, but I turned my back to her and walked out of the room.  Silver followed me out, and then took the lead.  I stepped into place behind her, happy to let her play the guide.  My thoughts were a mess, and my body ached and burned as it righted itself.

I was not treating Snow fairly.  Or was I?  She had betrayed me.  It wasn't her betrayal that hurt. It was that it was her who had committed the betrayal.  I trusted so few as much as I had her, and so her betrayal was much harder for me to overcome.  I wanted to be able to accept her again, but every time I looked at her, I felt resentment.  Would I ever see her as I once had?  I wasn't certain that was possible.

Malice's absence wore heavily upon me as well.  I should have been overjoyed to have survived the great monster's attack, and that the ship had withstood, and that all the crew were well.  Instead, I felt as empty as I ever had.  Perhaps she had been busy.  There was much to do aboard ship, and if Malice was on duty, then she would have had to work instead of sitting at my bedside.  I knew that wasn't true.  Malice did as she pleased, responsibilities be damned.  Really, why should I expect her to stay at my bedside anyway?  It wasn't as though I owned her.  She was free to do as she wanted.  Certainly I had not been the most loyal to her over the years.  I'd had my nights with Snow.

It might be better for her to move on beyond me.  Certainly I had not made the lives of my friends and supporters any easier over the years.  All of these thoughts did nothing to lessen the pain that welled up inside of me.  My physical hurts seemed as nothing to the emotional turmoil that churned within.

I just wanted my life back.  I wanted my cabin in the woods, with Malice, and Kaylien, and Wisp.  Poor Wisp.  She was gone forever, another friend burned up in the flame that was my existence.  I wore too many deaths about my shoulders.  The weight of them all was greater than any other burden I had to carry.

My only hope for salvation, the only chance I had left to reclaim some semblance of my life, lay yet ahead of me.  I needed to find Kay, and be the father to her that I should have always been.  How old would she be when I finally found her again?  Fourteen, fifteen…old enough to marry in some places.  Too much time had been lost.

My vision sharpened to perfection, and the ringing fled from my ears.  I would carry on.  When I finally found Kay, at least I could tell her that I had never given up.  I had spent every moment since she'd been taken, trying to find her and bring her home.  I hoped that would be enough to help heal the rift that time had opened up between us.  I feared it would not.

The damages had been far worse than I'd imagined.  Snow had not over estimated the situation.  Our repair supplies were critically low, and our ship still had problems.  The sails had been entirely replaced.  Much of the rope used for tensioning and control had needed to be completely thrown away and refitted.  The hull had taken extensive patching.  We would not be able to survive another barrage of such damage.  On top of all of the damage, we only had two more shots for the sinker cannon.

Telistera's ship was an amazing testament to ship crafting.  That it had survived for so long against a beast of such terrible immensity and power, was proof of the silver-eyed woman's design choices.  That we all still lived was yet another proof.  It was difficult to find joy in those facts, however, when I considered that more than half of our journey still lay ahead of us.  A dark mood settled over me.

I returned to my room, after my tour of the ship, at Silver's recommendation.  In truth, I felt fine.  My injuries, what were left of them, were mostly healed already.  I took her advice anyway, hoping to find Malice waiting for me.  I reached the door to our shared quarters with some trepidation.  My ears, ever acute, could pick out no sounds coming from beyond.  I placed my hand upon the wood surface, as if by will alone I might discern the contents of the room beyond.  What would I do if I opened the door and found our shared space to have become only my space?

That was a fool's question, I knew.  I would go in, and I would be alone.  I had not found myself without company in a long time, but it would be my own fault if I did find myself alone.  I had been harsh with my words too many times.  I had no right to expect anything else.  I reached down to the door handle.  The metal felt like ice against my palm.  I twisted it, and pushed the door open.  Darkness waited within.

There was no light on in the room, and even my sensitive eyes could not discern details in complete darkness.  I stepped inside the room, pulling the door quietly shut behind me.  My eyes could track motion, even in a completely dark place.  Other than the slight sway of mobile objects in time with the movement of the ship, nothing stirred.  I heard no breathing, and saw no telltale signs of living movement.  I walked to the lamp that set upon my desk.  I touched its base, and the magic that fueled it crept to life.  Light burst into the room, not a lot, but more than enough for me to see that my room was, for all intensive purposes, empty.

Both beds lay made.  Someone had even reassembled mine after I'd gotten up from my injuries earlier, but whoever that had been, there was no sign of them in the room any longer.  What I feared had come to pass.  I was alone.  Malice was gone.

I cried then, though I told myself it was a foolish thing to do.  It wasn't as though I would never see her again.  She was still aboard the ship, and she probably wouldn't stay mad at me forever.  At least, I hoped that she would not, but in that moment, I felt as alone as I had not felt since my time imprisoned.  That brought back more memories, memories that chipped away at my fragile mental state.

I remembered Wisp, and how she had been so good with Kaylien, when the girl was still a baby.  She would have made a fine mother herself.  Of course, females of the Knights of Ethan were denied the physical necessities of child birth, but she still would have made a good parent.  I touched the scars on my face, the vertical lines that would forever remind me of my lost sister.  We had first met as enemies, but before her end, I had been as close to her as anyone else at the time, closer than most.

I remembered first meeting Snow.  She had been an enemy at first as well, an agent of the kingdom I rallied against, sent to take advantage of my loneliness, but she had proved herself much more over the years.  Snow had fought hard with me, and proven an invaluable companion in the hardest of situations.  At least she had been such a companion, until she'd. . .

I let that thought trail off.  It mattered little.  For the time being I was alone.  I had done a terrific job at chasing away those unlucky enough to get too close to me.  I was beginning to believe that it was in my nature to foolishly hurt those I was closest to.  Perhaps, I thought, it would be better for all involved if I kept my distance from others.  They had all done so much for me already, what more could I ask of any of them?

A sudden rage took me, a fire burning from within, coursing from my heart and out through my flesh.  It was as though all the darkness locked within me was manifesting.  I grabbed the small magical lamp before me and tossed it across the room.  It shattered into dust against the wall, the light fading so that the darkness within me was matched once more by the darkness without.  I did not stop there.  I was overcome by a need to destroy.

I tore my bed from the floor, where it was bolted, and tossed it through the air.  Bolted though it was, against my terrible strength there was no resistance.  With my claws I ran from wall to wall, thrashing and shredding the world about me.  Everything I touched, I broke.  Every piece of furniture, every bit of linen, every shelf and sheet I destroyed because it was the only way to answer the dark within me.  It asked, “Why does it hurt so much to be alone?”  I answered with another howl of rage, and more carnage.  I did not stop, could not stop.

I pulled the second bed from its bindings and flung it across the room.  It shattered against the wall.  Malice's things were gone.  Her pack, her spare clothes, the room was empty but for my few possessions, and I cared nothing for them.  I cared nothing for myself.  I destroyed, and I raged, throwing a tantrum like a child with the strength of a demon, and the stamina of twenty men.

I did not stop my rampage until a knock sounded on the other side of my door, loud and urgent.

“Noble, are you alright?”  Snow's voice.  She had the nearest room to mine.

Was I alright?  The room around me was still and black, in the absence of my fury, it felt as though I was back in the abyss, sunk once more to the bottom of the sea.  The knock at the door sounded again, more urgently.

“Noble, I'm coming in!”  The door creaked open, and light, terrible, revealing light spilled across the room and Snow saw it all.  She saw the devastation around me, and her eyes met mine.  Her expression changed from concern to fear.  What did she see when she looked at me?  She didn't see Lowin that was for sure.  No one would look at Lowin with such a terrible expression on their face.  She saw the truth.  She saw a man falling apart, lost in the grip of his own darkness, held in the fist of the monsters that drove.

“I'm fine.”  I said, the words a growl, a voice that wasn't mine at all.  It was the Fell Beast.  It was Lowin.  It was something more.  It was something less than all of those.  It was a lie.

“You're . . .” Snow began, but my rage flared.

“I'm fine!”  I growled, feeling my throat rip at the guttural roar that erupted from me.  Snow jumped backwards, shutting the door.  I heard her footsteps move away quickly down the corridor.

“We're better like this.”  I heard my own voice, though I hadn't realized I was speaking the words.  I stood amidst the fruits of my rage, destruction my only companion.  The anger fled from me, and was replaced by nothingness.  Rage could make a man feel full and powerful, but once it fled, he was left with less than he had before it consumed him.  It carved its place in the heart, and once carved out, it was difficult to repair the void that was left.  In fact, I wasn't certain it was possible at all.

Weeks passed and became months.  I encountered almost no one during that stretch of endless time.  I was a prisoner, locked away by my own callous rage and self-pity.  I left my room long enough to keep myself alive, food and water runs, and no longer.  Snow and Malice I did not see at all, though a few times I thought I saw someone watching me from the corner of my vision when I left my room to obtain provisions.  I had no will to confront them.  It felt to me that some spark of what made me wish to live, had been snuffed out.  I was full of anger, little else.

My room remained in ruin, and I slept amidst the rubble I had created.  In the darkness, surrounded only by broken things, I had time to reflect upon the mistakes and failures of my life.  I also had time to think of the future.  I was unsure what it held for me, but I knew that I needed to be ready to face whatever challenge next presented itself to me, if for no other reason, than so that I might save Kay.

As I lay staring up into the darkness of the room around me, a knock sounded at my door.  I wasn't entirely surprised by the sound, for I had heard the telltale footsteps coming down the hallway.  However, I had heard that same pattern many times, and no one had stopped at my door before.  I did not answer the person on the others side of the door.

The knock sounded again, louder, and more insistent.  For a moment I entertained the thought that it might be Malice, finally coming to forgive me for my harsh words, and foolish behavior.  I tossed that thought aside as quickly as it had occurred.  She would not come.  I had given her no reason to come back.  It was better if she did not.  She needed to find her own way, and to stay away from whatever it was I was becoming.  They were all better off without getting too close to me.

The door to my room opened, and light spilled in from the hallway, splitting the near total darkness of my destroyed living area.  I had made my resting place in the furthest reaches of the room, in a corner, and no light hit me where I lay, but I still found myself withdrawing from the burning glow of the lanterns that so angrily assaulted the serene peace of my dark retreat.

“Noble," It was Ethaniel's voice, perhaps the last voice I'd thought to hear.  I had not seen him in months.  “This madness needs to end.  The crew has become convinced that you've lost your mind.”

I felt eyes upon me, though I knew Ethaniel had only taken one step into the room.  He should not have been able to see me from where he stood, yet I knew he could.  Those gray, smoke-filled eyes of his were piercing the darkness, and locking on me.  I could feel them crawling across my skin, hungry, and full of … something.  I couldn't be sure what I was feeling, but it wasn't the normal animosity I felt when Ethaniel's gray eyes were upon me.  I stood up in the darkness.  I was discovered already, and I preferred to meet Ethaniel on his own level.

His Knight's eyes found me as soon as I moved, and then two sets of eyes were watching.

“The human crew believes the beast that attacked our ship drove your mind away as well.  The Knights believe you're injuries have gone to your mind, and that you're beyond recovery.  Snow believes you've lost control of the darker parts of yourself, and that you're dangerous.  The Brigade, I don't know what they think is happening, but they know something is not right.   They've . . .” his words trailed off.

“You need to be a king to these people.  I don't know what has happened to you, but I know you're not out of your mind.”  He continued after a pause.  He was leaving something out.  There was some other reason he'd come to me, some reason he wasn't ready to tell me yet.

“I want to be left alone.”  I said, my voice was raw, unused.  I hadn't spoken since the night I'd destroyed my room.  I hadn't had any water in days, maybe a week.  My body needed little, but I was pushing those bounds.

“No, Noble, you're not going to be left alone.  Your crew has given you three months.  It's time for you to stop acting like your actions don't affect anyone else.  Whether you like it or not, this ship relies upon your leadership, and right now that is needed.  We have a problem.”  Ethaniel's voice seemed uneasy at the last, and that uneasiness spread to me.  The sulkiness I'd been basking in retreated.

“What kind of problem?”  I asked.

“You should see for yourself.  It's on the deck.”  The old Knight seemed intense, and I found myself caught up in that sense of urgency.  I crossed the room to him.

“Fine, lead on.”  I acquiesced.  I didn't need to grab my sword and cloak.  I had been wearing them for the past month.  I had put them on at some point, and simply never taken them off again.  I stepped out into the hallway beyond my room, and followed Ethaniel.  The halls were quiet until we reached the point where the main apartments met up with the primary walkway that traveled up to the deck.  Around the final stairway more than half the black cloaks were assembled, talking quietly amongst themselves.  When they saw Ethaniel and me approaching, they went quiet.

Their attention was focused squarely on me.  I could feel the probing questions that burned inside of them.  Is he sane?  Is he a man?  Is he a monster?  I knew in that moment that the black cloaks were as curious about my behavior as the other members of the crew.  Even if Ethaniel didn't know what they were thinking, it was obvious to me.  They stood aside as we approached, and I crested the stairs and walked through the doorway that passed into the wide open deck beyond.

The light outside, brighter than any I'd encountered in weeks, would have been too much for my eyes, if my eyes were not capable of adapting almost instantly to even the most extreme situations.  As it was, I felt a moment of piercing pain before they adjusted to the brilliant sunlight that spilled across the deck.  It was early morning.  All eyes on deck turned to me as I exited out into the open.  Tower, Snow, and Silver were on the deck as well.  Malice, she was standing next to Snow.  I caught a glimpse of her red hair for a moment before her hood was pulled low and she fell into Snow's shadow.  The pink-eyed warrior stood before her, almost protectively.

I winced inwardly, but tried not to let my pain touch my face.  I looked at all the faces watching me. Each looked as though they anticipated I might turn into a beast right before their very eyes.  It was interesting how far, and how fast, a man could fall from king to monster.

I was uncomfortable beneath their accusing gazes.  In that moment, if I could have appeased their desires, I may have erupted into the monster they so suspected me of being, and dived into the sea, to swim away and never return.  It was a foolish thought, but with so many watching and waiting for me to make some sort of outburst, I felt every part the fool.

“I don't see a problem.”  I said quietly to Ethaniel.

“Look up.”  The old Knight replied stoically, and I did.  My eyes scanning the lines of the sails, running over the well crafted white fabric, looking for some flaw, and then they locked on the problem.  When I saw it, I was immediately stricken with a sense of dread.

A body, seemingly small with the distance it hung above the main deck, swung from a rope tied securely about its neck.  It was one of the Black Patch Brigade, though I couldn't tell which one from where I stood.  It was obvious from the stretch of the neck, and leaden way which it swung, that whoever it was, was dead.  One of the Brigade had been killed aboard ship.  What that implied, and what it could mean for the rest of the crew, was difficult to decipher, but I knew that it was an ill portent.

“Who did this?”  I asked, my shock at the sight causing my voice to deepen and growl as it came out.  The words were loud enough that they carried for some distance across the silent ship, the ship that watched me as though I might explode into flames and kill them all at any moment.  Certainly the tone of my voice was doing nothing to disillusion them.

Ethaniel shrugged.  “We've already asked, but no one is taking credit for it.”  The old Knight looked troubled.  “The black cloaks haven't done anything yet, but...”  He let the sentence hang.  I knew the implications.  If someone had killed a black cloak, how long would it be before they took their retribution?  They were no longer as tightly restricted by the magic that bound them.

“We will learn who has done this, and there will be a swift and terrible punishment for it.  Do you understand?”  I called to the crew.  It wasn't an ultimatum I wished to give, but such a murder could cause the crew to split and cave upon itself.  If the black cloaks revolted, the rest of us would be hard pressed to keep them in check, and I wasn't certain that we could man the ship without them.  “I want the body taken down and given proper respects before it is cast to sea.  The service will be held tonight, and all nonessential crew members will be present.  No man or woman dies on this ship and gets any less than that.  None.”

Those eyes, all those piercing eyes, they turned away from me then, refusing to meet the gaze I laid upon them.  I would need to talk to the crew.  I would have to find out who had killed the black cloak, and they would need to be punished.  Furthermore, I would have to carry out the punishment.  I couldn't leave a task like that on any of the others aboard ship.  That terrible responsibility would have to fall upon me.

My eyes sought Malice, but she was still hidden behind Snow.  Snow stood resolutely, her eyes locked on mine.  What did that stare mean?  What did her protective posture imply?  I didn't have the time to consider it.  I turned from the crew on the deck and made my way back towards the door through which I'd come.  The Black Patch Brigade waited there, and their eyes were still turned to me.  What did they intend?

“Send Liet to me in my room.”  I ordered as I drew near enough for them to hear me without raising my voice.  For a moment I feared they would say they couldn't, because he was the one hanging from the mast, but they nodded as a group.  I felt a wave of relief pass through me.  It seemed I spent a lot of time worrying about Liet's life.

Ethaniel followed me down.  He watched the black cloaks warily as we passed through them.  He didn't trust them.  It had been some time, I thought, since he had trusted them.  I wasn't certain that I did either, but I wasn't about to let on that I was worried.  I would speak to Liet.  I hoped that he would have answers for me, though I didn't expect much.  I needed to know whether or not the black cloaks would take action.  The lives of those on the ship depended upon that information.  No matter what was changing within me, or what else might be troubling me, I was still responsible for the lives of those on the ship.  I would do my best to protect them.

It was Malice that I thought most of.  I missed her.  Every thought of her was like a poignant pain in my chest, so strong that I felt it might still my heart if she continued to avoid me.  Of the time I'd spent alone in the darkness of my room, it had been her who filled most of my thoughts.  I remembered the time before she'd lost her memories, and the times since.  I remembered the touch of her lips on mine, and the press of her body against me when I held her as she slept.  There was lust, but more than that, I missed her nearness.  Without her, I felt more alone than I had since before I'd become a Knight of Ethan.

“What do you plan on doing?”  Ethaniel's voice tore me from my downward spiral of despair, and forced me to look at the current situation again.

“I'm going to see if Liet will tell me what the Brigade are planning to do in answer to the death of one of their own.  From there, I can't be certain.  We need to find out who committed the crime, and see that they are punished for it.  It will help the crew to feel safe.”  I explained, my answers summing up all that I had managed to conclude on the situation.  It was impossible to be any more specific until all the details were clear.

“Do you really think Liet will tell you anything?  He's one of them.”  The old Knight looked back over his shoulder at the way we'd come.

I wasn't sure, but I didn't intend to let Ethaniel know that.

“He is a friend, whatever else he might have become.  He does not want to see harm come to this crew.  He will help us.”  I did not feel quite as confident as I made myself sound.

“Does this mean that you'll be taking hold of your responsibilities again?”  Ethaniel asked, his question more of an accusation than anything else.

“I have little other choice.”  The words sounded bitter to me, and I knew that the bitterness was a reflection of what I felt inside.  I still only wanted to be left alone, but I knew that I was in no position to leave the crew unattended.  I had done that too much already, and the evidence of my negligence was hanging from the mast.

“Snow believes you're becoming a monster.”  Ethaniel said suddenly, his words seeming completely jarring, and out of place.  “I've seen your room now, and I have to say I'm impressed with the level of damage.  Are you still fit to lead?”

I thought I detected mirth behind his voice, and I snapped my head around to look at the old Knight.  His black eyes held no emotion at all, but the gray eyes, smoking with black vapor, almost seemed to contain a terrible joy.  A chill crept down the center of my spine.

Was I still fit to lead?  That was a difficult question to answer, and not one I wished to consider.  My anger had been growing steadily more difficult to control.  I felt as though I rode upon a wave of blackness, and if I but slipped once, it would all come rushing out, destroying anything that lay in its path.  I had dragged all of the people who followed me into my world of problems.  It was my journey to find my daughter that had taken them from their relatively peaceful lives into the dangers of the unknown.  Every member of the crew who died did so because I had made the choice to save Kaylien.  How many lives would be sacrificed to save hers?

In my heart I knew that answer.  I would never directly ask another to die for Kay, but I would not stop until I'd found her.  Those who followed me, if they died, I would forever suffer for their loss, but I would go on.  I would save Kay.  I could not stop though I might have to carry the burdens of thousands of lives upon my shoulders.

“I have never been fit to lead, Ethaniel.”  I answered.  “I am indeed a monster, and I become more so by the week.”

The amusement in the gray eyes flickered, and then faded.  The old Knight's expression was blank again, unreadable.  Whatever spark had been in his gray eyes for a moment, was gone so that it seemed I might have imagined that other look.  His black eyes never changed.  I wondered what had happened to the sad smile of the oldest Knight.  We were all changing, and I wondered if any of it was for the better.

“Yet lead you must, because no one else will.”  Ethaniel said.  I nodded my head once, knowing that was the truth.  None of the others wanted to take the reins, and none of the others would be able to control the black cloaks, if even I was still able to control them.  That was questionable as well.

I reached the door to my room, and pushed it open, letting light spill across the ruins of furniture within.  Every time I opened that door, though I knew it was impossible, I hoped to see the room as it had been months before.  I wanted it to be tidy, and for Laouna to be sitting atop one of the beds, a book in hand and an eager smile on her face.  I knew that was not going to happen, but every time she failed to appear, it hurt a little more.

“Would you have a lamp brought to me?”  I asked Ethaniel.  It was time to clean.

I discovered not long after beginning the task of righting my room that none of the furniture was salvageable.  The completeness of the devastation visible once the lights were turned on was terrifying, even to me, who had perpetrated the destruction.  I began piling the shattered furniture to one side of the room, knowing that I would need to haul it away at some point, but satisfied for the moment to have everything in some semblance of order.  I was still working on this task when a knock sounded at my door.

“Enter.”  I called, putting down the jagged half of a nightstand I held in my hand.  The door opened, and Liet stood within the frame.  There was no one else with him.  He stepped through the entryway and pulled the door shut behind him.  He gave away no indication of his disposition through his posture or expression.

“King Noble,” He said, bowing his head slightly.

“Liet, it's good to see you.”  I wasn't sure how to breech the subject I needed to discuss, but I knew that he must also be aware of the situation.  I doubted that there was anyone aboard ship who had missed the spectacle on the deck.  I decided the time for intricate political maneuvering was past, not that I had ever been skilled in such fruitless manipulations to begin with.

“Regarding this incident, what sort of reaction should I expect from the black cloaks?”  I asked, not mincing my words.  I would not risk an unintentional miscommunication with such a vitally important topic.

“There will be no reaction from the black cloaks.”  Liet answered, his face not giving any indication of an emotional response to my question.  It wasn't the answer I'd anticipated, and I wasn't sure if I could trust it.  I felt there was something being left unsaid.

“You mean to tell me that with one of yours dead, none of the black cloaks are angry about what has occurred?  I'm not as big a fool as I often seem, Liet.  I know that you are all slipping free from the bonds of magic that have held you loyal.  That isn't a problem, so long as you do not cause trouble for the crew.  If there could be trouble, I want to know before it explodes around me.  We don't need to lose any more lives.”  I insisted, trying to get the weight of the situation across to my once friend.

“There is no problem.”  Liet's reply was as deadpan as it possibly could be.

I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, feeling the weight of command as though it were physically manifest upon my back.  “Whether there is a problem or not, I will still be bringing justice for your dead companion.”  I said, incredulous that the Brigade would feel nothing regarding one of their own being murdered.  There was the possibility that Liet was lying, but I had no way of knowing for certain.

“That won't be necessary.”  The stoic soldier replied.

“Of course it's necessary.  A member of the crew is dead, and until we find out who committed the murder, everyone is in danger.”  Anger crept into my voice.  I couldn't help it.  Liet's lack of interest in the problem was almost as frustrating to me as the situation itself.

“An investigation will not be necessary.  We killed her.”  Liet said, and those three words rocked me backwards like a physical blow.

I sat in silence for a moment, watching his face for some expression, some hint that he might be joking, or lying to me, but I sensed none of that.  A black cloak was dead, and the murder had been committed by her fellows.  That was not a situation I was prepared to handle.

“Explain.”  I demanded, and I left no room for disobedience in my voice.

Liet's eyes seemed to focus on mine, as though he was really paying attention to me for the first time since entering.  I could see his thoughts rolling behind his fierce, yet proud and strangely human eyes.  It struck me then that his eyes held more humanity then did any Knight's eyes.  They hid a hostile and dangerous instinct, but they were the eyes of a man for the most part.  Liet and the other black cloaks might be considered more human than the Knights of Ethan, though their bodies were far less so.  For a moment, I thought Liet was going to refuse my order, but then he spoke.

“Her name was Wyile.  She was one of twelve females amongst us.”  Liet paused for a moment. He seemed to be struggling with what he wanted to say.   His voice had the gruff edge of the black cloaks, a human toned voice, but gravely with the influence of the Fell Beast rage.  “It is difficult to explain to an outsider, who does not understand what it is to be us.  You see, the females have power over the rest of us.  Since we've begun to wake up - the human parts of us - we've been overcome with urges, lusts that are difficult to control.”  I did not comment, but I knew only too well the urges that Liet referred to.

Liet's eyes became feral, distant.  “I remember what it is to hunt the plains of frost, and to mate with any female whose path I crossed.  I remember the taste of fresh meat, and the satiation of warm lust.  These things drive my body, but. . .”  His eyes refocused, and the human intellect was there behind those glass surfaces again.

“I can think as well.  I know that I must not take women against their will, and I must not kill and consume flesh for pleasure.  The part of me that is Liet knows this.  Still, I lust.  The females use that lust to maintain control.  Not all of them, but some allow satiation in exchange for power amongst our group.

“Wyile was like this.  She had plans.  Dark intent.  She wanted the ship for her own, crewed only by our kind.  She gave her body to any who would listen to her.  She bred with all who would take up sword in her cause.  We were dividing.  The men were listening, if only to wet their lust, but they heard what she said.  Her promises were made on a currency stronger than gold.”

As Liet spoke, I realized just how little I'd known of what was going on aboard my own ship.  I'd had no idea that the black cloaks were developing their own power system.  The implications were frightening.  Liet's story, delivered in his cool, detached voice, was almost unbelievable.  Had anyone outside of their own group known what was happening amongst the majority of our crew?  I doubted it.  Their quarters were separate from the others, and what they did behind their closed doors had always been their own business.  Liet continued.

“Those of us with clear enough minds to think realized that this was a problem that was not going to get better.  We did not all want what Wyile wanted.  We were men of honor.  Many of us had been knights before becoming black cloaks, and we still felt loyalty to our king.  King Noble has treated us well, and we are not ready to betray him so easily, not ready to leave honor behind when we had only so recently remembered what it was to have that honor.

“You vanished for a time, and we saw nothing of you.  Wyile began to spread word of her desire to act.  She saw your disappearance as a weakness, and wanted to strike while you were away.  She feared you. We all fear you.”  Liet's eyes held mine while he said that.  “Drake Slayer, Old Wolf, Tireless Rage, these are the names we know you by.  Wyile remembered other times, wanted more for herself.  Oath Breaker, she called you.  Some of the others remembered.  She was giving her favors more freely, and drawing more into her plan.  We had to act.  Wyile was confronted.

“She said that we betrayed our brothers, and that she offered us a better future then we would ever have while in service to the crown.  Her words were empty, and we knew it.  We would be trading a king who respected us, for a queen who only wanted to use us.  When she saw our intent, she offered us her favored currency; as much as we wanted of her, for as long as we wanted.  We chose justice, and delivered it.  We hung her body so that others would see the price of betraying our king, so that others would know Drake's Bane, and fear the might of the Old Wolf.  He Who Walks with Shadows.”  Liet's voice trailed off as he spoke.  I had never heard most of the titles he'd listed.  Drake Slayer and Oath Breaker I knew, but the others I'd never heard in reference to myself.  I was curious about them, but knew it was not the time to ask.  I didn't know if there ever would be such a time.

I had to think.  I stood in silence, trying to figure out what I could possibly do in order to smooth over the situation.  How many black cloaks had been involved in the murder, and had they committed a crime, or done a service to the ship?  Certainly, if Liet was to be believed, they had stopped an outright rebellion.  I could not punish them for that, but how could I explain such a situation to the rest of the crew, who were already wary of the black cloaks?

“Thank you for your honesty, Liet.”  I said, and I was struck by a sudden feeling of responsibility for all that had transpired.  Had I not been sulking in my room, Wyile might never have decided to attack, and she might not have been killed.

“You can go.”  I said to Liet.  I needed time to think.  He seemed about ready to depart, but he hesitated.

“What will you do?”  He asked.

“I'm not sure yet.”  I answered honestly.  “I want all of your men at the funeral service this evening.”  I added, after a moment's thought.  They had delivered their own brand of justice, and possibly saved the ship, but a life had been taken.  Whether Wyile had betrayed the crew in the end or not, she had served loyally for a time, and I would see her sent off properly.

“We would have been there without being ordered, Drake Slayer.”  My friend-turned-black cloak replied.  He spun and left quietly, leaving me to my troubled thoughts.

I stood in my newly restructured room, taking in the sparse emptiness of the space.  There had been furniture for two to live comfortably before my shameful rage.  I had only taken a single bed, a desk, a chair, a cupboard for storage, and the lamp Ethaniel had brought after my return to regular ship life.  The furniture, other than the chair, which could be locked beneath the desk when not in use, was all bolted to the floor.  I'd disposed of everything I'd destroyed.  The room seemed overly large, and depressingly empty.  It had been a little too large for only Malice and I, without her, it was far starker.

I laid down on the bed, and let my mind wander.  Ethaniel had already stopped by twice, and Telistera had come once.  All wanted to know what I was going to do about the situation with the black cloaks.  I hadn't yet told them what Liet had told me the day before.  I would need to soon, but first I had to make a decision regarding what was to be done.  I was formulating a solution that would alleviate the fear of the crew, and still provide the answers people needed to trust the Black Patch Brigade.  I didn't want to create a rift amidst the crew members.

Of course, a rift already existed to some extent.  The Knights, the black cloaks, and the humans all kept their distance from one another unless their work required otherwise.  Telistera moved most freely amongst the crew.  The human crew and the Knights both communicated well with her.  Relative to the rest of the crew, I was closest to the black cloaks.  The Knights were loyal, but they did not speak to me often.  I knew my eccentric behavior was at least partially to blame for that.  The human crew kept their distance as well, preferring to only see me in the event of a problem.  There had not been any outward hostilities amongst the crew, with the exception of the executed black cloak, but the relationships between the crew members were far from ideal.

I heard footsteps in the hallway beyond my door, my sensitive ears detecting the smooth and nearly silent motion of a Knight of Ethan, or one of the black cloaks.  I guessed it would be Ethaniel, returning to yet again press the issue of taking care of the business of the dead Brigade member.  I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable knock as the footsteps stopped.  The knock did not come.  Silence fell, even to my sensitive hearing.

Whoever had moved along the hallway had halted outside of my door.  I sat up in bed, moving slowly.  I crept from my comfortable perch, my hand going to my sword hilt.  I didn't know what lay beyond my closed door, but I could think of no reason for a normal guest not to announce themselves immediately.  It could be another black cloak rebel, come to put an end to me.  I'd only heard one, though, and that seemed folly.  The black cloaks were strong, but no single one of them was an even match for me.  I was too fast and too strong.

A quiet knock sounded at the door, and some of the tension fled from me.  Someone with dark deeds in mind probably wouldn't bother to knock before entering.  I took a few steps back from the door, and let my sword drop down beside my desk.  I felt foolish for having clutched it so firmly a moment before and suddenly wanted nothing to do with it.

“Enter.”  I made my voice crisp and clear.  The door opened, hesitantly at first, and then normally, as the figure in the doorway caught sight of me.

“Laouna,” I greeted her, bowing my head, as formal a gesture as I could manage.  At that moment there were a thousand things I wanted to say, and a thousand other things I wished to do, expressions of love and pleasure that could not be conveyed within the confines of such brittle things as words, but I was afraid to say or do anything that might frighten her away.

“Lowin," She replied, returning the greeting, her eyes left mine and traveled the room.  “You got rid of my bed.”  Her voice was sad.

“I threw a tantrum and destroyed the furniture.”  I said, embarrassed to have to explain my own immaturity, my own inability to control my emotions.  She was supposed to be the one of the two of us whose mind was still that of a child, yet it was I who had most acted the part.  “You had moved out, so when I replaced the furniture, I only took what I needed for myself.”

“Oh. . .”  She answered, her voice soft, almost fragile.

“I don't know if it matters to you, but I'm sorry for yelling at you.  I'm sorry for chasing you away.”  I said, words I should have brought to her long before that moment.  I wondered what good they might do.  They needed to be said, one way or the other.  I watched her, hoping that she might take them to heart.

Laouna bowed her head, her hair obscuring her face.  “I just wanted you to miss me.  I left when you yelled at me, moved all of my stuff into Snow's room, and then you were hurt by the sea monster.  I felt so guilty for being mad at you.  I stayed by your side while you recovered, but when you woke up I couldn't bring myself to face you.  I ran back to Snow's room, thinking I would come to you later that night, but then. . .”  Her words raced out, and I began to form the bigger picture.

“Snow saw me destroying my room and everything in it, and you thought better of coming back.”  The realization was painful.  I had indeed been directly responsible for Malice's long absence, but not for the reason I had originally believed.  My fury had driven her away.  “It was probably for the better.”  I said.  I could hear the echo of pain in my own voice.

“Snow said I should be careful of you, that she'd seen something in your eyes that terrified her.  She wouldn't let me go back that night, and then it was like you were gone from the ship.  I was scared for you, and Snow was . . . is, scared of you.”  Laouna took a step towards me, and my eyes shifted to follow her motion.  I felt a trail of moisture trace a line down my face.  Seeing her so close, I ached only to be closer.

“. . . but I can see now.”  She took another step towards me, so close I could smell that scent that was only hers, a subtle aged wood scent, imparted by a pack of aged wood chips she kept in the bottom of her pack with her clothes.  She lifted her face, and her eyes came level with my own.  They were so green, so beautiful and deep, I could have fallen into them.  They were wet, like green mirrors reflecting my own image back at me.  “You're still Lowin.”  She closed the last of the distance between us, her arms wrapping around me so tightly I feared she might crack my ribs.  I put my arm around her as well.  A pressure eased in my chest, and I sighed as if, for the first time in so long, I could finally release the terrible tension that had been twisted tight around my heart.

“I love you, Laouna.”  I whispered the words into her ear, and I heard her lips echo the sentiment back to me.  Our lips met, warm, salty with tears, and we fed of each other's love in a moment of pristine serenity.  I felt her pull me, towards her, towards the bed that lay behind her.  I drew back, but she pulled more firmly, her strength denying me a retreat.  She seemed so slight, and so graceful, yet in her was a phenomenal strength.

“I'm ready for this.”  She whispered, a blush lighting her cheeks even as a ready passion filled her eyes.  “I want this, Lowin.  I've seen you and Snow, back at the castle.  I'd follow you some nights, after you thought you'd sneaked away.  I saw you on the practice yard, and I watched through her open door once.  I wasn't ready then, but I'm ready now.  I want you to do to me what you've done to her.”

“. . . but you don't remember . . . you're still so . . .” I tried to rationalize, tried to resist the temptation, that burning need I had for the woman I loved.

“I'm not a child.  I know I don't remember a lot, and I know you think you're protecting me.  I'm older than Snow, though.  I know you love me, but I want you to do more than kiss me.  I want to be together with you.”  Her cheeks grew even warmer, until I could feel the flush of her skin even while her face wasn't pressed against mine.  “I want to be your lover.” She whispered, and then we were falling onto the bed.  She was beneath me, having pulled me over on top of her.

“I can feel how much you want this.  I want it too.  Please, Lowin.”  She whispered the words in my ear as she ran a soft trail of kisses along my neck.  My desire was throbbing, a desperate burn in my anatomy that yearned so strongly for release.  Malice grabbed at the collar of her shirt and tore the fabric away, her impossibly sharp claws shredding the cloth as though it were the sheerest linen.  Her breasts, large and inviting, lay before me, pert in the relative chill of my quarters.  I had felt them against me in the night, but it had been years since I'd seen Malice's generous endowments in all their glory.  She was the perfect image of feminine beauty, her red hair framing her pale skin, rounded features peaked in pink temptation.”

“Touch me.”  She breathed, and it was such an invitation that I could do naught but accept.  I lay my lips upon flesh I had not dared touch in so long, and felt the tremble of eager anticipation against my skin.  Passion took over from there.  Clothes were torn aside to make way for our twin desires.  Foreplay was a concept for another time.  Her hips ground against mine, until I tore the fabric that bound me away and took her with a fierceness born of supreme desire.

Her femininity enveloped me, taking me in, and wrapping me tightly in the cusp of her inner most being.  I thrust as deeply into her as I could, as though I might find some way of becoming more in tune with her if only I could pierce her more completely.  I gave into her with a fire that only her body could ever hope to quench.  That first time in so long was not slow, not gentle, but a thing of passion and necessity.  I forgot my worries, and wrapped myself in her body, and she shook against me, quaking with her own passions.  When we'd finished, we started again, more slowly, more restrained, but with equal love and passion.

I had never made love with such intensity before.  That night, I found peace.

“If you hurt her, Lowin, I'll come after you.”  Snow said.  It had been a few days since Laouna had moved back into my room.  I had not seen the white furred Knight of Ethan until she confronted me in the hall that day.  There was fear in her eyes, but other emotions as well.  Longing.  Loneliness.  Frustration.  I felt sorry for her in that moment, but I still couldn't look at her without seeing betrayal.

“Good.  If I ever hurt her, I want you to kill me, Snow.”  I replied, the words almost as much a surprise to me as they seemed to be to her.  I realized after I'd said them that I meant them.

“Lowin you . . .” Snow began, but I interrupted her.

“If I ever hurt Laouna, kill me.  If I ever reach that point, it will be necessary to end my life.  She won't be able to do it, but you can.  So promise me that you'll do what is necessary, should I ever lose control of myself.”  I spoke with conviction.  If anyone could defeat me sword to sword, it would have to be Snow or Malice, and Malice would not.  If I ever lost control of myself, she who once betrayed me would need to be the one to end the danger I posed.

She didn't answer.

“I know you'll do what's right.”  I told her, because I believed she would.  She felt something for Malice, possibly love, but at least a sister's bond.  I didn't know if she felt anything for me.  I had believed she might love me for a time, but her betrayal had made me doubt that.  I was laying a heavy burden on her, but she had brought it upon herself.  Her hasty words had been all the invitation I'd needed to lay such a heavy task at her feet.  Perhaps it was unkind of me, and perhaps I shouldn't have given such a trust to one who had betrayed me before, but I was ever one for rash decisions, and there was no going back.

“I will do what is right.”  She said, her voice quiet, the vehemence of her earlier statement gone.

I stepped around her, leaving her stunned in the hallway, but just as I brushed past, I heard her speak.

“Am I destined to always be just out of reach . . .” Her words were quiet.  I don't think I was supposed to hear them, and I pretended that I did not.  They clung to my mind though, and I would remember them many times over the next few years.

“The Brigade is acting strangely.”  Ethaniel declared, as he came up beside me on a bright and clear morning nearly a year and seven months after we'd first begun our journey.  We'd been at sea so long that it was difficult to remember what it was like to walk on a surface that did not move and surge beneath your feet.  The ship was still sailing strong, and we'd not suffered any further losses of the wind, though we had come close on a few occasions.  The end of our journey, I knew, was growing close.

“I've noticed.”  I answered the accusation in the voice of the Knight of many eyes, not meeting his gaze.  For nearly a week the black cloaks had been acting out of character.  I had not breached the topic with Liet yet, but I knew I would have to soon.  Ethaniel was one I knew would not let the matter drop, especially after the incident of the murdered woman.  That had been difficult enough to smooth over on its own.  Ethaniel had watched them closely ever since.  He was not inclined to believe that they had acted in the best interests of the ship, and that such a situation would not arise again.  I had spoken with Liet privately on the matter and made him swear that no further executions would be carried out without allowing the accused party to stand some form of trial.  Liet had agreed, had even seemed to approve of my decision.  Recently though, some dynamic had changed.  The black cloaks had a secret, something they were hiding from the rest of the crew, and that made me nervous.  We were so close to our destination.

“What do you plan on doing?”  Ethaniel pressed, as was his way.  I rarely ever saw the old Knight unless there was a matter he believed I should be taking care of.  He hid away in his rooms and rarely came out.  His behavior had been strange and growing stranger by the day.

“I will speak with Liet.”  I said, turning away from the ocean and facing the horned and winged Knight who had served as the head of the Knights of Ethan for so long.  “What of you, Ethaniel?  You have not been yourself.”  The conversation had been a long time coming, but I knew I needed to have it.  If the black cloaks must take accountability for their behavior, Ethan too needed to explain himself.

Ethaniel shrugged his wings and cocked his head to one side.

“This has been a long trip.  The endless sea is wearing on me.”  He explained after a moment.  “It is Liet and the others of his ilk you should be concerning yourself with.  They are not to be trusted.”  I felt the exact moment that he intentionally shifted the subject away from himself.  I saw it coming before he'd even let fly the first word of the subject change.  There was a subtle shift in his posture, an acute change in his breathing, difficult to discern, but obvious for those with sensitive hearing, and an intent eye.  I didn't doubt the conviction of his words, but it wasn't his purpose that rang ill with me, it was the evasion I felt being pushed before me.  The Black Patch Brigade weren't the only ones keeping secrets.

“There is little that can be done other to watch and wait, Ethaniel.  I have faith that Liet will bring me anything that I need to know.  He is still a good man.”  I gave the same argument that I had used many times before, and I anticipated the reply before it even came.  I did not, however, anticipate the acidity with which Ethaniel declared it, and his sudden explosive rise in hostility.

“They are poison!  Liet is one of them.  Dirty magic, evil creatures.  Your trust in him will be your downfall, Noble.  You'll doom us all.”  The Knight of four eyes nearly spat the words, his wings coming unfurled for a moment.  A shadow fell over me, cast by his imposing figure, and his eyes burned with a terrible rage.  I found myself taking a step backward, my stance going wide, and my body preparing for attack.  My hand reached for the draw on my shoulder harness that would bring my weapon within easy reach.  I gave it a tug.

Ethaniel stepped back, his expression cooling.  “I've warned you many times.”  He said, and I felt the tension leave the air, though I did not return my sword to its tucked away position.  It was the first time in a long while I'd held it at the ready.  Ethaniel's black eyes were on my hand which rested easily upon my weapon's hilt.  The other set of eyes; I couldn't be certain what they watched.

“You're mistaken in who you should be listening to.  Liet is one of them, and that's where his interests and loyalties lie.  You'll make us all pay for your foolish trust.”  The old Knight pushed, his words still bitter and full of anger, but his outward fury calmed.

“Trust is a difficult concept, Ethan.”  I used the shortened version of his name, a form of it I rarely ever addressed him with.  I tended to always give the other Knight the honor of his full name when addressing him, but this time I held that back.  The issue of the black cloaks suddenly seemed minuscule in the face of the four-eyed Knight.  He had almost attacked me.  Over the years it had come close many times, but in that moment, we had been closer to crossing weapons than ever before.  “Trust must be earned, and once earned; one must keep working to maintain it.  I do not trust the black cloaks, but I do not trust you either, and right now you're giving me even less reason to put any faith in your judgment.”

“That's not a good idea, Noble.  If you can't trust your advisor, then who can you trust?”  Ethaniel growled under his breath, and I didn't like the tone of his voice.  It was condescending.  There was mockery behind those words.

“This conversation is over.”  I made my voice flat and authoritative before turning my back on the other Knight.  It was perhaps a foolish thing to do, but I no longer sensed the spark of violence in the other man.  I heard his footsteps moving away, and felt a wave of relief pass over me.  Ethaniel was dangerous.  He was not the man he'd once been.  Or had I just never seen him for the man he'd always been?  Either way, I needed to keep a closer watch on the oldest Knight.

I stood for a few more minutes, watching the endless horizon, and thought about returning to bed to see if Laouna was up yet.  I heard footsteps moving up behind me.  I turned, expecting to see Ethaniel again, or maybe just one of the crew passing on business, but instead I came face to face with Liet.

“We should talk.”  He said, his voice as stoic as ever, but I sensed a weight behind his words that hinted at something important.  I wondered if he had been listening in on my conversation with Ethan, or if his appearance was merely coincidence.  It didn't really matter either way, but I couldn't shake the feeling that his appearance was uncanny.

“Yes, we should.”  I answered.  I would not be returning to Laouna's side any time soon.  A feeling of foreboding took hold of me.  Death was in the air.

We found a quiet place on deck, a place far enough from prying ears that all other sounds would be washed away by the churn of the sea against the hull.  Liet, for all that he generally showed no emotion, looked worried.  There were subtle signals, things I only noticed through months of studying the behavior of the black cloaks.  Liet's motions were sharp, almost hostile in their military precision, and his eyes were alert and ever moving.  His posture was rigid to the point of extremity beyond a natural fighter's stance.

Liet scanned the area around us multiple times, making certain that no one was within hearing range of us, and even then he looked uneasy.  His hand clutched the hilt of his sword, and for a moment my heart pounded like a hammer in my chest, and I felt my body automatically getting ready to thrust itself into the altered state of speed best suited to combat.  My old friend seemed to notice my tension, and he released the handle of his weapon.  I forced myself to calm again.

“My apologies.”  He said, before taking a big breath.  “There has been a birth.”  He blurted.  The words hit my ears and my mind worked them over, but they didn't make any sense to me.  I must have looked as confused as I was, because Liet spoke again.

“One of our females has given birth to a child.”  He explained more clearly.  I was taken aback.  The black cloaks were men who'd been given the bodies of Fell Beasts.  I had never considered that those bodies would still be capable of breeding.  Female Knights were stripped of the parts of their internal anatomy needed for breeding. I'd assumed that the females of the Black Patch Brigade would be no different.  The reality of the situation struck me all at once.  I suddenly realized why the Brigade had not been surgically altered to keep them from having children.

The black cloaks were supposed to be tightly locked under the confines of magic.  Those responsible for their creation hadn't bothered to remove the breeding functions, because they'd assumed those instincts would be forever locked away.  If they were breeding, though, successfully, what sort of offspring were they having?  Were they birthing Fell Beast pups?  Were they having human children?  I didn't know, and I knew it wouldn't be right to ask.  Besides, Liet didn't look like he was finished.

I nodded.  “Go on.”  The news was shocking, but it was far from terrible.  There had to be more.

Liet shook his head.  He looked content with my reaction so far.  I wasn't precisely sure what he may have worried my reaction would be.  Certainly I was startled, but I couldn't make myself take the creation of a new life as an evil occurrence.  What it meant for the crew I did not know, and what the future implications might be for the black cloaks themselves, I couldn't say, but a birth was not reason enough to warrant the agitation that Liet seemed to be experiencing.

“The birth has brought our role as servants of the king under question.”  Liet continued.  “Some of the men believe it is time we took this ship.  . . . believe we should make sail for some place where we can settle, start our own village.  They do not believe you and the others will allow that.  They do not trust you and yours.  They do not believe human kind will see us as equals.  All of our females are with child.  You see the problem?”  Liet finished.

There were eleven females.  That they could all be pregnant and have hidden it from the crew for so long was a surprise.  That one of them had given birth and none outside the black cloaks was any the wiser, was also a shock.  I could understand their fear, and their desire to secure a future for their kind, but I couldn't let them take the ship.  That was unacceptable.

“The mother and her child, they are healthy?”  I asked Liet, deciding it was best to tackle one aspect of the problem at a time.  A new mother and child would have to take precedence.

Liet nodded.  “They are strong, mother and daughter.  She is like you, the girl, human child, almost.  She has light fur on her stomach and back, gray, strong claws, Fell eyes, but she is helpless like a human child.  Soft.  Fragile.  Sweet. Innocent.  Human features, though her legs are like the Beast, and her ears are pointed, large for a human child.  She is beautiful.”  His voice grew soft as he spoke of the child.

I wondered for a moment if it was his, but I could not bring myself to ask.  “Liet, I will not let any harm come to the child or the other black cloaks, if I can possibly avoid it.  I just need to get my ship to Telistera's land, and then your folk are welcome to it.  You have to make them understand that I will not stand in the way of their lives.  We are close now.  Let us finish this journey.”  I tried to appeal to Liet.

His soft expression faded.  He was shaking his head.  “Can't, my King.  They have already decided.  That is why I've come to you.  You must take this to them.  You must make them see, or set an example.  That is what we understand.  Strength.  Power.  Go soon, I don't know how much longer they will wait.  Find Kivann.  He will lead them.  Convince him if you can, if you can't, kill him, or he will kill you.”

“I don't want to kill any more of my men.”  I told Liet, though I wasn't sure if the sentiment was for his ears, or if I was simply speaking my thoughts.  Too many of my own men had fallen at my sword already.

“King Noble is good, but He Who Walks with Shadows, must do what must be done.  You have young to protect too.  Sweet.  Fragile.  Innocent.  Go to Kivann, speak, fight, win, and protect.  That is what my king does.  Protect.”  Liet's voice was sure, confident in his convictions.  I wished that I felt so confident myself.

I knew what I had to do, but I did not like that it had to be done.

Kivann was working the hull pumps for the early part of the day.  I waited until his shift was over, knowing that he would go from there back to the black cloak's commons area.  I did not know how far I would have to take matters, but I knew that it was important that whatever happened, happened in front of the others.  They needed to see that I would do what was necessary to maintain order, and to assure the ship reached its destination.  I hoped that words would be sufficient, though my talk with Liet had not given me much confidence in that regard.

The section of the ship in which the Brigade resided was left entirely to them.  None of the other crew, with the possible exception of Ethaniel, would breach the area that had become theirs since the trip began.  There was no set rule, but it was common knowledge that they had made their homes there.  I wasn't sure what to expect as I pushed open the door which separated the black cloak quarters from the rest of the ship, but it certainly wasn't what I encountered.

Some part of me had believed that the fierce-eyed half-men would live in squalor, filthy and disorganized, a testament to the part of them that was Fell Beast.  The truth couldn't have been further from that.  The area beyond the door into the black cloak rooms was spotless.  Everything was pristine, and well organized.  It looked as though it had all been cleaned within the past couple of days.  There was no sign of a spider web or spot of dust anywhere.  Whatever else the black cloaks might be, they were tidy.

I briefly considered asking for assistance with what I was about to do, but the thought passed as quickly as it came.  If I brought anyone else with me, and they were injured, it would be my responsibility.  Besides, I didn't want to give the impression that I had a fight in mind.  If possible, I still wanted to avoid a conflict that could result in more deaths.

I walked down the hall, my quiet footsteps seeming loud in the empty corridor.  Doors lined either wall, separate apartments, each large enough to bunk four crew members in an emergency.  I wondered if they lay empty, or if each was filled with the tidy quarters of another black cloak.  Were they all so fastidious in their cleaning?  I knew so little about them.  I felt out of place.

It was a feeling that had assailed me as soon as I crossed through the door into the clean and well kept area the Black Patch Brigade had taken for themselves.  It wasn't that the cleanliness was off-putting, so much as a sense of not belonging.  I had come somewhere that I wasn't welcome to be.  I felt no outward hostility, and sensed that I had not yet been detected, but that feeling of not belonging did not fade as I walked deeper into the ship.

I was headed for the commons.  It was a large open area, with tables and facilities for cooking.  Liet had told me that would be the best place to find Kivann off shift.  I knew where the commons would be, though I had never actually been there.  The interior of the ship was divided into four sections.  The front two sections were the same, only mirrored.  This was true of the rear section as well, but it was the front section that was most important, as that was where the black cloaks had taken residence.  Knowing how the other side of the ship was arranged, it was not difficult to determine where I needed to go.  I followed the path I would take to reach the commons in my own section of ship, only I reversed the turns as necessary.  There were few turns to make anyway.

A door opened on one side of the corridor and a figure dressed in black stepped out, hood pulled down.  I recognized female features instantly, and remembered Liet had said that all the females were pregnant.  The black cloak female saw me, and her eyes went wide for a moment.  She stepped back into her room, and the door shut behind her.  I wondered if she was a mother to be, or if she was already a mother.  All of the females would soon have children.  Even having had Kay, the concept of children seemed alien to me.  I had been a terrible father.

I was curious about the black cloak child already born, but I would need to handle the situation with Kivann before I could make any further inquiries into the health of our newest crew member.  Even then, it was unlikely the black cloaks would be eager to accept my intrusion.  I was an outsider to them.  The actions I was embarking upon, I knew, would not help that situation.

The sounds of voices drifted to my sensitive ears from further down the hall.  I was approaching the commons.  The jumble was too thick to pick any one voice out, but the conversation seemed light and was interspersed with laughter.  For all practical purposes, it could have been any group of people in the mysterious commons still further ahead of me.  Away from the scrutiny of the rest of the crew, it seemed that the Brigade, for all their seeming hostility and bleakness, were not so very different after all.

I cleared the last of the distance to the black cloak common room with some trepidation.  I was about dark business.  I wasn't happy to be doing it, but it had to be done.  I would try my best to make them see reason, and if reasoning failed, I would resort to the universal language of violence.  It was, sadly, a tongue I spoke only too well.

I entered the commons.  The black cloaks around me were hardly recognizable.  Most of them, though not all, were dressed in normal clothes, likely taken from the supplies in the hold of the ship.  The few that were in cloaks wore theirs hoods down, and had their weapons off and laid to the side or on the tables before them where they sat.  The tables were full with men playing cards, and men drinking and eating.  I saw a few women amidst them, some dressed  in feminine clothing, a strange sight to see over their Fell Beast bodies, even stranger than such a sight on a Knight of Ethan.

As the first eyes fell on me, a wave of quiet swept through them, moving from the first to notice, and outward, until the entire room had fallen to silence.  Before I had felt that I was some place I wasn't meant to be, at that moment there was no denying the significance of my intrusion.  Every eye in the room fell upon me, and though not all were hostile, those that weren't, were confused.  I had pierced a secret place, and the black cloaks were, perhaps rightly, agitated.

“I'm here to see Kivann.”  I said, deciding the best course of action was to directly confront the problem, and get myself away as quickly as possible.  The tension level in the room rose immediately.  A table with eight black cloaks around it stood up as one.  I saw hands reaching for swords, and heard the sounds of steel on leather as weapons were drawn.  A few other warriors around the room stood and drew weapons.  One of those who stood was a woman, dressed in a pale sun dress, her bestial body seeming so unusual in the fabric.  She'd taken the sword of the armed man next to her, and held it defensively.  In her dress, I could see the bulge of her stomach, heavy with young.

A figure stepped from the group of eight, dressed in his black cloak, the hem of the fabric still damp from his work down in the pump rooms.  He was bigger than the others, a wall of a man, tall and imposing.  His hood was back, revealing a young face, with a firm jaw line, and hard gray eyes.  He held his sword with confidence, though all of the black cloaks did, his was a casual confidence that bespoke some talent with the blade.  His hair was short, roughly cut, and hung bedraggled about his face, giving him an ominous cast.

I had not expected hostilities to rise so quickly.  I did not reach for my sword.  I had the advantage of speed.  If it became necessary, I could draw and defend myself before those around me attacked.  There was still a good amount of distance between myself and even the nearest of those who'd stood in Kivann's defense.  The pregnant female was the closest, only five paces away from me.  That distance could be closed quite quickly.  I didn't wish to cross swords with her.  I did not want to be responsible for the death of a mother and her unborn child.

“King Noble, you are not welcome here.”  It was Kivann who spoke, his voice had the gravely edge of the Fell Beast, but there was barely restrained hostility beneath it.

He had not introduced himself, but I knew the large man was Kivann.  He would not have stepped forward if he wasn't.  He was leading the others.  It had been he who first stood from the table.  The others had followed quickly, but his motion had begun before the others.

“This is my ship, Kivann.  I'm welcome wherever I might wish to be.”  I answered calmly, keeping my voice steady.  My eyes traced the numbers of risen black cloaks.  Twelve had stood with Kivann, including those at his table and the female.  That made for thirteen possible enemies.  Others might support his cause, but they were not willing to do so openly.  There was always the possibility that some might be waiting for trouble to start before jumping in, but I did not believe that those with such a heart for subtlety would number high among the black cloaks.  They were driven by the same Fell Beast compulsions I felt driving inside of me.

The beast inside of me already stalked its confines, growling and snarling, its vicious teeth gnashing at the prison in which I kept it locked.  It could sense death coming, and it wanted to be free.  I knew the black cloaks around me must be feeling the same impulse.  Violence, death, lust, these were the creature's primary driving forces.

Kivann stiffened at my words, his eyes filling with hostility as I claimed the ship as my own.  Liet had not been deceiving me.  Kivann wanted the ship, and he was doing a poor job at hiding that fact.  I could see his knuckles whitening on his sword hilt.  Anger, while powerful, could weaken the form of a good swordsman.  That tightening of grip would not help his grace with the weapon.  His anger worked in my favor.

“Why have you come, King of Men?”  Kivann spat the words with venom, emphasizing the word “men,” as if to let me know that I was no king to the black cloaks.

“You want my ship.”  I kept my voice level, without accusation.  I was rarely good at establishing a point in a subtle manner, and with the Kivann, I didn't believe it was the best approach anyway.  “I'm willing to let you have it.”  Kivann's grip on his sword loosened, and his expression became confused.

“You'd give us your ship?”  He asked, a smile coming to his features.  “Fear.  Death has filled you with fear?”

“Once this ship reaches its destination, I will turn it over to you and yours, along with any remaining supplies.”   I said, ignoring his jibe.  If I could get out of the situation without violence, I would have achieved my goal.  I hoped that Kivann would see the benefit of settling matters without any loss of life.

Kivann's smile soured.  “No.  The king commands.  We die.  Too long have we served.  We want this ship now.  You Knights and Humans, you can take the escape boats.  We'll let you have water, food.  We'll let you live.  No more.”

I shook my head.  “I don't think you understand the situation, Kivann.”  I began, not liking the direction the conversation was turning.  I would not lose my ship before we landed on Tett O Sut.  “This ship is mine.  I know your women are with child," at this a rumble of alarm passed through the black cloaks.  I knew their secret.  “and I am giving you this ship because I believe your services to the throne do not deserve to go unpaid.  I will not, however, be given ultimatums on my own craft.”

“You don't understand, Oath Breaker.”  He used the mocking title first given to me by the black cloaks a long time before.  It had been years since I'd been called by that name, but it had never bothered me.  “We have served.   We shed our blood for you without our will.  We had no choice but to follow you to our deaths.  Thousands of our comrades, dead.  How many for this ship?  How many for the whims of Oath Breaker?!  You say that the ship is yours?  Whose blood soaks its planks?”  Kivann's voice rose as he spoke.  A few more men stood up, drawing their swords.  Kivann's message was powerful.

“You want to protect your women, and your new children.  I respect that, but I have a daughter to protect as well.  If this ship does not reach its destination, she will be left in the hold of the Hungering.  She has already been with them for nearly six years.  I will not be turned away now, Kivann.  Once I am on shore, you can have my ship, but not before then.  I will fight to the death to get this ship to my daughter.”  I still did not move for my sword, but I knew my words might be taken as a declaration of war.

“Then we will kill every human and Knight.  We of the Brigade take what is ours.  We will not be ignored.  We will not serve.”  Kivann took a step forward as he spoke, and the others around me also inched forward.  There were seventeen including Kivann and the pregnant woman.

“Please, Kivann, no one needs to die.”  I held my hands out palm up, my last attempt to plead for a peaceful solution.  “You can have what you want.  You've waited so long, you need only wait a little . . .”

“Silence!”  Kivann sprang forward, and so did every other standing black cloak in the room.

My heart hammered in my chest, and the world slowed around me.  They were fast, and dangerous, but I was faster, and far more lethal.  I pressed forward, letting the resistance of the thick ship air whip at me, even as I drew my blade from my shoulder sheath.  The weapon came free easily in my hand, glinting like silver fire under the dim lighting of the ships interior.  Even slowed, Kivann was coming fast, his Fell Beast strengths giving him the ability to move with terrific speed.  His eyes though, were not equipped to handle the motion, and he was forced to maintain a line once he'd taken it.  I used the flat of my blade to turn his charge.  His momentum shattered against the side of my larger weapon, and he was thrown to the side, even as those around him attempted to reach my body with their steel.  To their eyes, it appeared that I vanished before them. In my slowed perception of the world, I could see the confusion forming on their faces even as I twisted my sword's line of motion with a powerful swing that knocked multiple incoming thrusts uselessly to the side.  I ran out wide and stopped as far from the aggressors as possible, allowing the world to resume a normal pace again.  I had managed to avoid matching swords with the pregnant woman.

“Take that as a warning.”  I called across the room, and all eyes shifted from where I had been, to where I had moved.  “I can kill you if you make me do it, but I'd prefer not to.  You are my men. We have fought together through many situations.  Let us not shed each other's blood now, when we are so close to the end of this journey.”

“You say you'll give us this ship when we reach land,” Kivann spoke after righting himself and doing his best to appear that he had not been knocked easily aside.  “yet what have you ever done for us?  Hollow words.  Empty promises.  Give us this ship.”

“There are only two, maybe three months of travel left.  You would risk all these lives over so little time?  If you can take the ship by force now, couldn't you do the same in three months if I do not keep my word?  You have nothing to lose by waiting, but the lives of yourself and your fellows are forfeit if you make the choice to fight now.  I'm tired of killing my own, Kivann.  Let us end this without bloodshed.”  I kept my tone firm, but spoke from the heart.  I did not desire any further death.  I couldn't believe that Kivann would risk the lives of his own men, knowing that his power was much less than mine.  The other black cloaks watched him expectantly.

“Three months will see all the young birthed.  Young make us vulnerable.  You wish to weaken us.  I'll kill you here.  We will take the ship today.  You've brought this to the crew.  You came here and brought war.  We might have waited. Now there are no options.”  My heart sank at Kivann's words.  His will was set, and there was no turning him from his path.

“Let none say I did not try to stop this.”  I said, loud enough so those around me could hear.  No new bodies joined Kivann's side, and I did not believe any others would.  If he defeated me, I did not doubt that they would help him achieve his ends, but by the same token, if I won, they would finish out their three months on ship without complaint.  They would let a test of might make their decision for them.

“We take him as one.”  Kivann called, and then his men charged.  My body reverberated as it shifted into the depths of its power and speed, quaking to the very bones as every muscle knotted like steel to force the unnatural momentum I would need to stay alive.  Seventeen enemies, even if they were not Knights, could overwhelm even the fastest of men.  I had to get the odds down in my favor.  I charged the men closest to me, my blade leading the way.  My reach, thanks to Snow's specially designed weapon, was far beyond that of my opponents.  I drove my blade through the charge of the first opponent I encountered, and into his body.  The stroke should have killed him instantly, but he grabbed a hold of my blade.  I felt his muscles tightening on the weapon, and suddenly I was hard pressed to pull it free from him.  Normally I would have ripped the sharp steel out and moved on, but he was using his fearsome grip to end the threat posed by my weapon.  Blood frothed at his mouth from the fatal wounding, but he did not loosen his hold.

Two more black cloaks charged in from the sides, one of them the pregnant female.  I released my sword with a hard shove of the weapon and leapt at the male on the other side, ripping his throat out with my razor sharp claws.  His swing, which he'd started before I'd even let go of my sword, had little force behind it by the time it struck the left side of my body.  The blade gouged, but did not cut deeply.  My blood joined the rest of the blood spattered across the floor.  I didn't need to turn to know the female was coming in for a kill.  I dived to the ground and rolled forward, skidding to a stop, and tearing long trails in the wood floor beneath me.  The pregnant female's sword was wedged into the ground where I had been just a moment before.

I tore across the floor as fast as I could and grabbed the dropped sword of the Brigade member I had just slain.  The first one I'd injured was still standing, my sword protruding from his chest, with both his claws gripped tight around the hilt.  He was no longer a threat, but until he died my sword would stay where it was.  I charged the next approaching group.  They'd been running since the beginning of combat.  Only a few brief moments had actually passed, but in that time much had changed.  They charged blade first at the last position they'd seen me, but I was no longer there.  I stepped between two of them, lashing out with two swings, severing an arm and a head before diving to the ground to avoid a claw swipe from the man whose arm I had just removed.  I ducked the claw, but the blow was too fast for his companion who was just behind me.  The powerful stroke tore into the already headless body and sent it spinning backwards into the next group of approaching enemies.

I righted myself and charged forward again.  I heard the sound of a string thrumming, and dodged out of reflex.  A barbed bolt tore into the flesh at my back before I could even spin to see where it had been fired from.  By the time I'd spun, I saw that two more black cloaks had charged in while I was occupied, and the bolt had been fired from only two feet away.  It must have been a blind shot, but it had been enough.  My momentum was still carrying me away from the shooter, even as I spun to face him, and I felt myself strike something warm and heavy with my now injured back.  Suddenly there were powerful arms locked about me, pinning my arm to my side.

I could see my foes approaching, but I was helpless to run, held tight as I was.  Another black cloak grabbed a hold of me, pinning me in place, and two others approached with swords drawn and ready to strike.  This all happened in a terrible slowness, a macabre dance set to my impending demise.

We don't die!

It's not time.

Two different voices sounded in my head, and I felt a surge of power coursing through my body.  I struggled against those holding me.  Someone twisted the arrow in my back and pain shot like fire through my limbs.  I channeled that pain away from myself, and thrashed about madly.  A sword streaked towards me, the blow a well measured stab set to pierce my restrained chest.  I thrashed harder, roaring into the suddenly claustrophobic room.  The hold on me slipped, but not enough to set me free.  I felt the blade pierce my lower abdomen, instead of my chest, but it was angled upwards.

I DO NOT DIE!

We do not die.

“I can't die!”  I screamed out in unison with two others voices, voices I would later realize were only heard by me. The Fell Beast and whatever else called from within, and though I struggled to stifle that darkness within, I felt myself carried away with it.  I had no choice.  I knew I must go with it or fall.  My body throbbed with energy.  My feet caught wood, the claws digging in firmly and I threw myself forward with all my strength.  Black cloaks fell away around me.  I was not done.  The world grew slower around me, the resistance of the air grew stronger, but I sludged through it.  The world was red, a blur, death and pain all around me.  Death.  Violence.  Rage.  Despite allowing the darkness free, I found myself fighting it as well, struggling to keep afloat, and then I was gone.

“Stop, you've won!”  That was the next thing I remembered hearing, many different voices yelled it unison.  There were hands all over me, pulling me away, claws tearing into my flesh.  My arm was straight, my hand clutched around the throat of a writhing female figure dressed in a sun dress, her clawed hands digging at my wrist, gashing huge lines of blood along my arm as she struggled to free herself from my grasp.  All around me the Black Patch Brigade, no longer fighting, struggled to set the woman free.  As I came to myself again, I released her, and she slumped to the ground, gasping for breath.  She was missing one of her legs, the limb severed below the knee.  Where the limb had gone, I did not know.

The entire world around me was a mess of broken bodies and death.  Sixteen corpses, all devastated beyond reason, lay in pieces, ruining the once serene cleanliness of the commons.

My body hurt.  I looked at myself.  I was covered in claw marks from those who had tried to pull me free from their female companion.  A sword protruded from my abdomen, and I was bleeding from dozens of cuts ranging in severity from minor to serious.  I pulled the sword free numbly, and let it fall to the ground.  My blood followed it, pooling on the floor beneath me, disappearing in the already massive flood of ichor upon the ground.  How much blood had I lost?

“You've won.  We will wait, Drake Slayer.  We will wait until the ship makes land.”  It wasn't one voice, but many that spoke to me, trying to calm the beast that lay before them.  There was rarely emotion in the eyes of the Brigade, but now I could see the fear in them.

“Three months.”  I said, my tongue moving thickly in my mouth.  My mouth was full of blood.  Was it mine?  I didn't know.  “These people are dead for three months.”  I shook my head, and turned to leave.  I found it difficult to walk, but none of the black cloaks came to my aid.  I didn't expect them to.  I put one foot in front of the other, and then again.  I repeated that, forcing every step.  I needed to get to my room.  I needed Malice.  I needed someone to explain to me why I had just murdered sixteen people to win three months of time.  I needed someone to explain to me what sort of monster I had become that I had almost killed a pregnant woman.

I left bloody tracks in my wake.

I meant to walk to my room, but I found myself on deck instead.  The sky was gray above me, and in the distance the horizon appeared to end at what looked like a great black wall, occasionally lit by a flash of brilliant light.  The sea churned, and I wondered if it was somehow reflecting the turmoil I felt inside.  Did the sea sense my disquiet?  Was it struggling to quell the anger, fear, and sadness that burned inside of me?  I walked across the ship, ignoring the eyes that fell upon my tattered body.  I was cold, yet I burned all over.  My body was struggling to heal wounds.  I should rest, but I couldn't bring myself to face Malice.  She had stood next to me for so long.  I couldn't help but feel that, in my loss of control and brutality, I had failed her.

I could feel minor cuts and gashes sealing up, but there were so many injuries that even my powerful healing abilities were having trouble.  The wound in my gut burned, and I felt a tearing pain with every step I took.  The pain of my injuries fought back the numbness that was attempting to settle into my mind.  I walked to the railing at the edge of the ship.  A strong gust of wind grabbed my cloak and billowed it out to my side, revealing just how tattered the fabric had become in my fight.  My wounds burned as the fabric pulled on them.  I went to place my hands on the railing, and stumbled slightly when I realized that I had only one hand.

I stood like that for a time, watching the storm come in.  It looked like a tempest of epic proportion.  Footsteps approached me from behind.

“Lowin, Tower said that. . .”  It was Malice's voice.  I spun to face her, surprised that she had come.  Her eyes went wide as they took in the wreckage before her.  I knew my clothes, black through they were, were soaked with blood.  Most of it wasn't mine.

“What happened?”  She cried out, rushing across the last few paces between us.  She didn't grab a hold of me, but instead she ghosted her hands over the wounds, afraid to touch the damage lest she cause me any further pain.

Tears formed in my eyes at her question, stinging to be released.  I kept myself from blinking, knowing that if I did I would betray my own weakness.  What could I tell her?  How did you explain to someone you loved, that you were a terrible monster who had just murdered sixteen members of your own crew?  I couldn't lie, and my silence would only hurt her worse.

“I've ended sixteen lives.”  I said numbly.  “The black cloaks were going to revolt, so I faced them.  I tried to stop things from coming to a fight, but I couldn't.  I killed sixteen of them.”  My words sounded like an excuse.  I was attempting to justify what I had done, but I knew my actions would never be justified.  I would wear that burden for the rest of my days.

She reached out to me, touching a section of my arm relatively free of damage.  “I know you Lowin, and I know you wouldn't have killed them unless you had to.  You're not an evil man.  Please don't look at me with those eyes.”  She pleaded, and I didn't know what look she meant.  I could see the glassy reflection of tears in her green windows to her soul.  Was she crying because she feared her words were false?  Was she crying because she feared me?  No, it wasn't the latter.  I saw no fear in her eyes, only hurt.

“I'm sorry, Laouna.”  I hadn't meant to make her cry, and I certainly hadn't meant to kill all those men.  My apology, my words that could offer no real compensation, was all that I could offer for all the wrongs I'd committed.  How many more times would I need to do such things before I saved Kay?  What would be left of me as a man when I was finally able to face my daughter again?  I didn't know, but I was afraid.  I was afraid there would be many more apologies, many more empty words that could never bring back those lost to my cause.

What I feared most, was the darkness in my memory.  I remembered so much, so clearly, that the empty spots were the most terrifying part.  I had lost control of myself again, like I had in the fight with the black drakes.  In that moment of blind fury, I had become something more, and something immeasurably less, than a man.

Panic suddenly seized me.  I reached up with my hand and touched my chest, pulling the fabric aside with ease, for it was torn to shreds anyway.

“What's wrong?”  Laouna asked, seeing my sudden unease.

I ran my hand along my skin, and found that the fur that had stretched along my neck, at the line of my collar, had spread further down, creating a trail down the center of my chest.  I had changed again, like I had after the battle with the drakes and the Hungering.  I didn't know how far, but without looking I could feel the difference.  I reached around to my back, and I could feel the progression of fur up the center of my spine, not covering my entire back, but far higher than it had been before.  Those black spells, my loss of control, it was all costing me more than just my memory.

“I'm changing.”  I said, my voice a harsh whisper, mixed with fear and the pain of all that had transpired.  “I'm afraid I'm losing myself.”  I added, after a moment.

Laouna threw her arms around me.  “You're not changing, Lowin.  You're the same man I've always loved.  Do you remember . . .” She tried to assure me, and it seemed for a moment she was recalling something, but then it slipped away from her, and she sobbed and grabbed me harder instead.  Her embrace hurt.  Wounds reopened and began to bleed again.  I did not flinch away though, her closeness made me feel real.  However, her words and her love did little to quell the truth that lay before me.  I was losing myself, small pieces at a time.  Lowin Fenly was becoming something else.  I put my arm around the woman I loved, and closed my eyes tightly, as if I could make everything but the feeling of her body and mine vanish.

Thunder rumbled through the sky, and I felt the first cold touches of rain.  The storm was upon us.

My wounds healed over the course of two weeks, the severity of the major injuries taking a long time to completely become whole again.  I forced myself to rest as much as possible, but the storm brewing outside drew me inexorably to the deck of the ship.  It came in slowly, growing stronger every few days, until the rain lashed at the hull, a relentless torrent pelting the skin, and creating such a cacophony of noise as it drummed on the wood planking, that one could not clearly speak to a person standing directly next to them.  The sea churned and tossed, creating swells that the ship rocked uneasily over.  We had encountered such storms before, but none that lasted so long.

I was returning from the deck, the water sheeting off of my cloak, when I encountered Liet in the hallway leading to my room.  He was carrying a sword.  Not just any sword.  He was carrying my sword.  When he saw me, he stopped in the hall and waited for me to draw closer.  There was no hostility in his stance.  I had not seen my sword since I'd forgotten it in the black cloak commons weeks before.  I'd known it was missing, but I couldn't bring myself to go back and get it.  The metal gleamed in the hall lights.  It had been cleaned and maintained by the looks of it.  That scrap of metal, though a finely honed tool crafted with precision and care, had never seemed as ominous as it did at that moment.  Its existence was a grim reminder of the battle that had taken place on the other side of the ship.

“I thought you might need this.”  Liet said as I approached him.  He held the weapon out grip first.  I hesitated to reach out and grab it.  The leather wrapped hilt looked darker than it had been, as though it were stained with blood that could never be removed.  I stayed my hand.  A question burned in my mind.

“Is the woman, did she. . .”  I hadn't asked anyone yet.  I hadn't seen any of the Brigade in days.  I still did not know the fate of the woman that I had injured and almost killed.  I was afraid to know.  Had she died . . .

“She is fine.  We stopped the bleeding, and she is recovering well.  The child seems healthy, though we won't know for certain until it is born.”  Liet answered the unspoken question, reading the intent in my features, and the words I was too great a coward to speak.

Cool relief swept through me.  It hardly helped the guilt I still felt, but it went a long way towards easing my mind.  I had feared the worst.  I reached out and took the sword hilt from Liet.  The weapon felt warm in my hand, as though it were alive.  I replaced it in the empty scabbard at my back, eager to get the feel of that tool out of my reach as soon as possible.  The Fell Beast within me stirred at the touch of the bindings of my weapon hilt.  It lurched forward in the darkness within me, testing the air.  The handle of my weapon reminded it of death, blood, and battle, things it craved as a normal man craved a willing woman.

“You look troubled.”  Liet said, cutting through the brooding darkness that was threatening to creep up inside of me.

I nodded.  “I am troubled.  What has transpired has left a mark on me.  It should never have escalated to that level.”

“It was always going to escalate to that level.” Liet answered, almost before I'd finished what I was saying.  “They wouldn't have understood it any other way.  Battle.  Strength.  Dominance.”

“Why, Liet?  Why couldn't they see how close we were to done with this journey?  They died for three months of time.  Do you understand how terrible that is?  They could have had what they wanted if they'd only waited a little longer.”  My voice rose as I spoke.  I had to bite back the anger that threatened to explode out of me.  I was angry at the Brigade for pushing me so far, but more so, I was angry at myself for letting things reach the point where sixteen men had to die.

“Some men, fighting men, do not understand patience.  It is difficult to wait, when what you want it right before you.  You let it eat at your heart, Drake Slayer, but the black cloaks hold no grudge over what transpired.  We know you did what you had to.  Fight to protect.  There you find honor.  Kivann fought to protect.  He had honor as well, but you won.  We accept that.  You should accept that was well.”  Liet said, explaining things as though it were the simplest concept in the world.  I understood what he was saying.  I could make myself see his point, but I couldn't accept it.

“Sixteen more are dead, Liet.”  That number was one that haunted me.  Any time it seemed I might put the experience behind me I found myself repeating that number in my mind, like a mantra of remembrance.  “Our crew keeps getting smaller.  The black cloaks are dwindling, and that's not fair.  You deserve the chance to make a place for yourself in the world.”  I insisted, trying to get Liet to see my perspective.

My old friend didn't seem fazed.  “We will find our place, Drake Slayer.  The world waits.  We wait for the world.  You killed only our men, and there are too many of them anyway.  We have a bright future ahead without them.  All you've done is weed out bad leaders.  Weak.  Too quick to act.”

The ship tossed sharply beneath us, and we both reached to the wall to gain balance.  It had been happening so often over the last few weeks that it was almost second nature.  I heard footsteps, booted, coming down the corridor behind me, and I turned to look.  Telistera approached, moving swiftly down the hall, her arms outstretched to either side to maintain balance.  She looked troubled.

She acknowledged Liet and me with a nod.  She was dripping wet.  It was obvious that she had been out on deck recently.  I was not that wet.  My shifting cloak did not hold water, but Telistera was not so well uniformed against the elements.  She looked miserable in her sodden clothing, though the male part of me noted how well it clung to her sleekly muscled and feminine figure.

“Noble, we may need to take down the sails.”  She said as way of greeting.

I nodded.  It had occurred to me the first time we'd entered a storm that it might be necessary to take down the sails in the event of really bad weather.  At the time, when I had brought the matter to Telistera, she had said that it shouldn't be an issue.  I wondered what had made her change her mind.

“Are they weakening?”  I asked, looking for clarification.

“No, the sails are still strong, and we're still on course, at least I believe we are, as long as the instruments in navigation are reading accurately through the weather.  This storm, though, is getting worse.  I've never seen one like it before.  I'm worried that if the wind picks up too much more, we may lose a sail.  We don't have the fabric to waste if something catastrophic should occur.”  She explained.

“I see.”  My mind was churning.  How much time would we lose if we had to take down sails?  Another thought occurred to me, and I spoke it as it did.  “What of the sea creature, will it find us if we take down sail and ride out the storm?  That would be a fate far worse than possibly losing a sail to the wind.”

Telistera shook her head.  “No, in this kind of storm the beast shouldn't be able to find us on the surface of the water, especially if we are drifting at the will of the storm.”

“How much longer do you think this tempest will last?”  I asked.  I had never encountered one that stayed strong so long.  I could tell by Telistera's expression when I asked the question, that I was not going to like the answer.

“I've never experience one that did not blow out in a week or two, but I see no sign of it letting up.  I'd say we have another week of this, maybe less, maybe more.”  Her answer was not encouraging.  A week longer on the rough seas did not sound appealing, especially if it was to be a week making no progress.

“Do what you think is best for the ship.”  I replied, giving her permission to take down the sails.  It was a difficult choice to make, but without the sails we would be left with no way of moving of our own accord once the storm was gone.  So far out to sea, we would be easy prey for the beasts that lay below.  We would have to draw sail and wait out the weather.  A blast of thunder roared through the ship, causing the wood to quake around us.

A look of concern hung over Telistera's features.

“Is there something you're not telling us?”  I asked the silver-eyed woman.  In that instant, as the thunder roared about us, she had looked as though she expected something more than merely the rumble of distant lightening.

She smiled, a somewhat nervous expression.  “It's nothing. . .”

Liet cocked his head to the side, obviously picking up on the same unspoken signal as me.

“It's something.”  I said, pressing for more information.  “What is it about the thunder that has you so on edge?  Are you afraid of lightening?  There is no shame in that.”  I had known grown men who quaked during lightening storms.  There was something raw and terrifying about the forces of nature.  They were to be respected, if not feared.

“No, it's not lightening.”  She began.  After a moment's pause, as if she was considering whether or not she should say anything more, she went on.  “When I was a little girl, my father once told me about these storms at sea that only happen every fifteen to twenty years.  He said they were bigger than any normal blow, and that they grew more powerful the closer to the center one came.”

“Usually, those storms stayed far out to sea, and my people never encountered them, but sometimes one would roll over land, and they always wrought massive damage when they did.  In the center of the storm, near the calm center, there is a strange type of lightening that he called a red streak.  He told me that a red streak will pierce a hole right through a home, or even through a stone wall, and leave a giant crater on the other side.  Once, when he was a young boy living in a fishing village, he witnessed a man getting struck by a red streak.  There was nothing left of him.  His bones and flesh were turned immediately to dust, and a crater was left where he'd been standing that was large enough to fit a grown man so deep that he couldn't reach the surface.”  Telistera looked a little embarrassed.  “It's just an old story my father told me, but this storm has been going on so long, it brings back memories.  I'm sure he was just trying to keep me from going outside in the rain.”

“Then there is nothing to worry about.  We'll come out of this storm soon enough.”  I said, forcing a smile and trying to sound encouraging.  Stories such as Telistera had been told by her father, generally had some source of origin.  It was possible that red streaks and monstrous storms such as those mentioned by her father were just another case of mundane events blown out of proportion through many retellings.  It was also possible that, like the legends of the great sea monsters, there was some truth to be found in Telistera's story.

She nodded.  “I know.  I'll go get a crew together to bring down the sails.”  She seemed to relax a little.  Sharing ones fears could go a long way towards easing them, I had notice.  She departed, and Liet followed in her wake, obviously intent upon helping her with her task.  Apparently, he saw no need to finish the conversation we'd started.  Perhaps it was for the better.

I stood in the hallway alone for a moment.  Red streaks.  The storm raged on beyond the confines of the ship.  I felt ill at ease.

Malice had departed to the commons to have a meal, and I sat alone in our room, pining over a stack of paper that I was considering turning into a memoir.  So much had happened to me since I'd joined the Knights, and I had always told myself that I would record it all at some point. My training as a keeper of records, a scribe, had left me with a strong sense of duty in regards to maintaining historical documentation.  As I sat down at my desk and picked up the quill to write, the ship surged heavily beneath me, and the capped bottle of ink rolled off of the desk and onto the floor.  Perhaps it was a sign that I should hold off writing until later.  It had been a week since Telistera's story of the red streaks, and still our ship was embroiled in the surging of the storm.  Our situation had gotten no better.  If anything, the storm was growing yet fiercer.

Telistera assured me that we were not loosing much travel time, since the storm was actually pushing us in the right direction, but I did not like the feeling of floating at the whim of such a squall.  I put down the quill I'd only so recently picked up.  It wasn't time to write.  Not then.  I knew, though, that I would have to start soon.  There was no one else who could tell the story that I had lived.  Too many events had happened that bore no other witness than myself and a number of dead friends who could bear no witness at all.  Who would speak for those who had died?  Who would remember their bravery if someone did not make a note?

I got up from my desk, recovered the ink well, and returned it to its drawer where it would be safe until the storm blew over.  It was foolish to even consider starting such a task while the ship still rocked and surged to the whim of the angry storm outside.  A knock sounded at my door, hesitant, quiet.  I had not heard anyone approach, but the sounds of the weather outside were loud enough to hide quiet footsteps.  I grabbed my sword from where it lay at the side of my bed.

“It's open.”  I called.  Malice would have entered without knocking, a friend would not find it strange to be given entrance in such a way, and a threat would be at a disadvantage, coming into a room that they did not know the layout of, plus they would have to manipulate the door and whatever weapon they were going to use.  All of these considerations passed through my mind as I readied to greet whoever lay outside.  I was almost surprised at just how paranoid I had become.

The handle turned, and the door swung open revealing the impossible to mistake outline of Tower.  The massive Knight of Ethan had to duck to enter the room.  He wore his hood down.  His hair was long, light brown, and hung loosely bound down his back in two separate tied bunches.  Stray strands hung about his face, almost hiding his eyes as he bowed his head upon entering.  His face had a coating of very light stubble, and his jaw line was firm and strong, despite his obvious shyness.  He had an almost feminine cast to his features, a grace uncommon among men.  It was a face women could fall in love with, if they looked long enough after seeing his imposing frame headed in their direction.

“Tower,” I greeted him, tossing my sword to the bed.  It was obvious he hadn't come to do me harm.  “What brings you here?”

He hesitated, opening his mouth, and then closing it again, as though he knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't force the words free.  I waited.  I didn't know what it was like to be as shy as Tower was, but I could see that he struggled with social interactions and I wasn't going to chide him for that.

“I wish to speak to you regarding Snow.”  He said, finally ringing the words out.  They came out quietly, but spoken with a solemn intent that I couldn't help but take notice of.  My curiosity was peaked.  What he could have to tell me about Snow that I didn't already know, was beyond me.

I held my hand out and offered him a seat on the bed.  He took the offered seat, and I sat down in my desk chair.  Even sitting, Tower was still tall and imposing without meaning to be.  The boat heaved in the sea, and I had to stop myself from sliding across the floor in my chair by grabbing the corner of the desk.

“Speak your mind, Tower.  I'll always hear you out.”  I readied myself for whatever news might come next.  Tower, I knew, wouldn't come to me lightly.

“Sir, King Noble, I need. . . I wish. . . I would like to know what your intentions are in regards to Snow, King Noble.”  Tower asked, his request coming out haltingly, and with far too many formal addresses.  Of all that he may have asked me or told me, those words were perhaps the last I'd expected to hear.  What were my intentions regarding Snow?  That was a good question.  She had been a dear friend, and a lover, but I wasn't sure where I stood with her any longer.  I couldn't look at her without seeing betrayal.  Was Tower asking for his own benefit?  Did he have some interest in Snow beyond the professional?  A pang of jealousy struck for a moment at that thought, but I pushed it away.  Snow was not mine, and never had been.  That had always been understood.  I did not love her, at least not as I did Malice.  Since her betrayal, I wasn't even sure if she was still a friend.

“Why do you ask, Tower?”  My curiosity got the better of me.

“Sir, I . . . she is . . . what I mean, is that she's very nice.  Er, what I want to say is that, if you do not want her. . . No, I mean, if. . .”  Tower stopped, he looked frustrated.  His fists were bunched closed, but I did not want to stop him.  He opened his hands, apparently a conscious effort, and took a few deep breaths.  “King Noble, I think I love her.”  He said, the words coming out in a burst, almost knocking into each other on their way out of his mouth.

I stifled the smile that wanted to come to my lips.  He had tried too hard to get those words out for me to squash them by taking him lightly.  Tower was serious, so I would treat the situation with the respect that it was due.  There were times for levity, but matters of the heart, I knew, should be handled with caution and seriousness.  Tower still needed his answer.

“I have no claim on Snow, Tower.  No man has.  If you love her as you say you do, you are free to pursue her until she indicates otherwise.”  I told the young Knight, and for the first time since entering he lifted his head, his hair falling back from his eyes.  It is often said that we Knights of Ethan have eyes that are black and soulless, lacking the emotional connection of human eyes, or even the lively color of the Uliona, from who we steal our vision, but in that moment there was no denying the joy behind the two black mirrors to Tower's inner self.

“Tower,” I added, locking eyes with the young Knight.  “If you wish to pursue her, you must know that she is strong and independent.  She's not going to be caged, and you'll have to be bold to attract her notice.  She holds herself, and others, to a high standard.”  In all the time I had spent with Snow, those few truths were what I had taken away from her.  I once would have added that she was loyal and trustworthy as well.  I would no longer give her such credits.  Perhaps to others those titles would hold true, in my case, she had been neither.

“Caging such a bird would be a crime, Sir.”  Tower replied, looking bashful as he said the words, as if realizing only half-way through his speech that what he was saying was about as un-Knightly as possible.

This time I did smile, though it was not a mocking expression.  “Indeed it would be, Tower.”

Tower departed as quietly as he'd come.  I wondered what Snow would make of the young man's approaches.  I hoped that she would take him as seriously as he took himself.  It would be far too easy to hurt the young and shy Knight.  Even if Snow wasn't interested in him, she would need to be careful otherwise he might withdraw further than he already had.  It was not, however, my place to meddle in their affairs.  Bringing the matter to Snow would only serve to humiliate Tower.  He would have to do things in his own time, and in his own way.

Sometime later, the door opened, and Malice stepped back into the dimly lit interior of the room.  She wore her shifting cloak, and beneath it a full set of light armor.  Her hair was tied back, though not as severely as she had tied it back before her memory loss.  Still, she looked much as she had when I'd first met her.  The illusion was somewhat marred by the partial smile that always seemed to rest on her features, a change, I thought, that was for the better.  Malice's honest smiles had been too few and far between back in those early days.

“I passed Tower on my way here.”  Laouna said, pausing to see if I would have anything to add.  When I said nothing, she continued.  “He seemed a little flustered.”

“Did he?”  I asked, feigning ignorance, more for a spot of fun than for any intent to hide the truth.

Laouna walked across the room and cuffed me lightly on the shoulder.  “There are only two rooms down this hall, and I passed him just before he reached Snow's door.”

“So he passed Snow's door?”  I asked, honestly curious.  I had wondered whether he would go directly to her, to make his feelings clear, of if he intended to wait.  It had obviously taken him considerable effort just to confront me on the matter.

Malice cocked her head to one side.  “Yes, why?”  She pressed, her curiosity as tenacious as my own.  I snaked out my arm, grabbed Laouna by the shoulder and pulled her down into my lap.  She fell with little protest, wrapping her left arm about my shoulders she landed.

“I'll tell you this because I love you, and for no other reason.  I'm sure Tower would appreciate this information gets no further.”  I told Laouna, my face just inches from hers.

She smiled, leaned forward and kissed me.  “No one will hear a thing from me.”  The green-eyed beauty assured me, and I was helpless to keep anything away from her in that moment.  My heart fell into her eyes, and I would have given her every secret the world possessed, if I'd had them to give.

“Tower is in love with Snow.”  I said, before explaining the conversation I'd had with the love-struck Knight.

To my surprise, Laouna laughed.   “I already knew that Tower had feelings for Snow.  There are few who have seen him when he's around her that do not know that already.”

I raised an eyebrow.  “Really?”

Laouna laughed again, put both her arms around me, and kissed me once more, her lips soft and welcoming against mine.  “You need to pay more attention to the things that are happening aboard ship.”  She chided.

“I suppose I do.”  I answered, feeling a bit foolish.  I supposed keeping things a secret was a moot point.

A cloud seemed to pass over Malice's face, and her smile faded.

“I had a strange dream last night, Lowin.”  She said softly.  “I didn't remember it when I woke up, but while I was eating supper, it started to come back to me.”

She'd been having more and more dreams since returning to my room. Sometimes they were just nightmares of the hungering, but other times they contained pieces of the memories she had lost.  I often had to wake her from vicious nightmares that left her thrashing about in the bed as though she were being physically assailed.  Once awake, usually the dreams would fade in a matter of minutes, and she would return to sleep, passing the remainder of the night in peace.  I rarely slept, and so I lay as silent witness to her torments.

“What did you dream of this time?”  I encouraged her to talk to me.  I always hoped that she might recover more of what she'd lost.

“I was in a dark place, and I couldn't see anything.  I heard someone crying, so I tried to move towards the sound, but no matter how close I came, the sound moved further away.  I began to panic, and run, because the person crying sounded like they needed help, but I couldn't get to them.  Suddenly there were lights everywhere, torches, and I could see.

“I was in a cave, and there was a little girl in a cage.  She looked like you, Lowin, but her eyes were human, yet they were so purple that she couldn't have been human.  When she saw me she called out my old name, Malice.  I tried to run to her, but all these hands grabbed me and held me, powerful hands with claws, driven by burning red eyes.  I tried to break free from them, but I couldn't.  The little girl in the cage was carried away and I could do nothing to stop it.  She disappeared, and the light went away.”  Malice delivered her story in a flat tone, but tears seeped from her eyes.  I lifted my hand and wiped them from her cheek.

She seemed surprised.  She reached up and wiped the tears away as well, she smiled, an expression that seemed odd through the tears.  “I don't know why I'm crying.”  She tried to explain, and laughed weakly.  I wrapped my arm back around her and squeezed her tight to me.

“You've just remembered Kaylien.”  I told her, feeling a lump in my throat as I said my daughter's name.  “You've just remembered the person that we're making this journey for.”

Malice's smile faltered once more, replaced by a look of frustration.  “Why can't I remember everything, Lowin?  Every time I see that little girls face, my heart hurts, but I don't remember anything more about her.  What is wrong with me?  Why did I forget so much?”

I kissed Laouna's cheek.  It was warm, and the salt of her tears flavored her soft skin.  “I don't know the answer to those questions.  All I know is that I love you, and we'll be together whether you remember what has happened in the past or not.”

Laouna tucked her head into my shoulder.  “Will you tell me about her, Lowin?  Would you tell me about Kay, and about Malice . . . I mean, me, before all of this?”

I nodded.  “I'll tell you anything you want to know.”  I began the telling of the story of Malice, to the woman that had been Malice.

The entire world exploded.  I was in the commons with Malice, nursing a glass of fresh water, when suddenly the ship jolted so sharply that I, and the few other crew members in the room, were tossed into the air.  We'd grown use to the rigorous shifting caused by the monstrous swells of the storm raging above, but never had the boat been so powerfully struck.  My body reacted on impulse slowing the world about me, so that I was able to stop myself from striking the low ceiling of the commons.  I was still hard pressed to get my legs back under me before the ground surged up to meet me again.  As soon as my feet touched the floor, I sprung for Malice.

She was laying flat on the ground, a trail of blood trickling from her brow line.  My heart jolted in panic.

“Malice?”  I called her name as I ran my fingers down the side of her face.  Her eyes fluttered open, she blinked, and I saw her gaze focus on me.  Her green eyes were surprised, but sharp and clear.  I breathed a sigh of relief.

“What happened?”  She asked, sitting up, and holding her hand to her head.

I held a hand out to her, helping her to her feet.  “I don't know.”  I answered.  The ship listed heavily to one side, and I had to grab on to the nearest table to keep from tumbling over.  I waited for the angle of the ship to right itself, but it didn't happen.  The wood hull groaned.

The others in the room were pulling themselves from the floor with the aid of anything that was bolted down.  Tower and Silver were there, as were a few of the human crew, including Captain.  I looked at the oldest of our human sailors, searching for some indication that he knew what was going on.  His face looked grim.  A moment later, a loud ringing sounded from above decks.  It was one of two bells located onboard ship.  One bell was to be rung in the event of an attack. The other was only to be rung when it was time to abandon ship.  It was that second bell that I heard ringing.  I'd only ever heard it one other time, and that was when it was first shown to the crew.  I didn't know who was ringing the bell, or why, but I knew that matters must be serious.

“All hands to life rafts!”  Captain called out, doing what I should have done as soon as I heard the bell.

Malice, Tower, and Silver all looked at me, as if needing my command before following any other order.  I nodded once, and we moved as a group.  We let the few humans go before us, though it was a difficult process, since the ship was still tilted at an unusual angle.  A loud rumble rattled through the wood of the ship as the deck suddenly jolted beneath our feet again.  It wasn't as severe the second time, but there was no denying the amount of force that must have exploded against the hull to make such a terrible pressure.

A human sailor fell, and went tumbling down across the deck back towards the bolted down tables and chairs of the dining area.  I caught him as he fell past me.  It was only as he rolled down the slanting floor that I realized that the list of ship was growing worse.  The man's eyes were full of panic as they met mine.  I lifted him, and set him back on his feet, making sure he had good hold on the ship again before I let him go.

“Thank you, Sir.”  He said, shaking where he stood.

I nodded.  “Get moving.”  He snapped to the order and was crawling out through the door in a moment.  Once all the humans were safely in the hallway, the rest of us fell in behind them.

“Where are Telistera and the others?”  Malice asked.

“I'm sure they're getting to the escape boats just as we are.”  I answered calmly, though I understood her concern.  I was worried for the others as well.  We all knew what to do.  I would have to depend on them doing what was necessary to get free of the ship, even as we were doing the same.  The vessel was going down.  That was the only reason that second bell would be rung.  The craft that had been our home for nearly two years was sinking, and I was still months out to sea.  How would I ever reach Kay without the ship?

I had to push that thought away.  Down that road of thought lay only desperation, and I couldn't afford such a bleak mindset at a time when I needed to protect those around me.  An explosion sounded, dulled by the hull, and a light tremble rolled through the deck.

“Are we under attack?”  It was Silver who spoke.

I didn't know how to answer that question, so I didn't.  The answers, I knew, waited for us above.  It was a long trip up to the top deck, following behind the humans who had difficulty moving through the heavily slanted halls without the aid of claws and inhumanly powerful muscles.  The dangerous extent of our situation was not clear until we reached the world outside.  The wind whipped across the deck with a terrible ferocity, driving the rain against one's skin so hard, that it felt like needles piercing flesh.  To make matters worse, occasionally a massive ball of hail would fly down from the sky and crash into the deck, leaving a dent as it hit.  If such a ball of ice struck a person, it could severely injure or kill them.  Luckily, they were infrequent enough occurrences that they were not a continuous risk.

I turned to look in the direction in which the ship was listing, and staggered backwards in shock.  There was a smoldering black hole in the starboard aft section of the ship.  The hole was large enough to drop two complete carriages down, side by side.  The bell was still ringing, and I looked for the bell tower to see who had sounded the alarm.  I briefly saw a glint of silver hair through the open window in the small building.  It was Telistera.

“Man the life boats!”  I called out, having to yell at the top of my lungs to be heard over the torrent of rain.  I could see no sign of an enemy ship, or any apparent cause for the damage that had been wrought.  Some of the life boats were already being lowered, though on the surging seas it was a difficult task.  The black cloaks were working on several boats for themselves, and the human crew, with the aid of tower and Silver, had started on another.  Each boat could comfortably keep twenty-five men, and there were ten such boats.

“You should get to a life boat, King Noble.”  I spun at the words, yelled just behind me.  They were difficult to hear in the storm.  It was Ethaniel.  I had not seen him since our last fight.  I felt Malice press close to me, and I turned back to look at Telistera, still desperately ringing the bell, calling to any who may not have heard the warning.  Did she know she'd rung the bell enough?  Why wasn't she abandoning ship as well?

“Ethaniel,” I turned to the old Knight.  “Please, see that Malice makes it aboard a boat.  I will be back in a moment.”

“No!”  Ethaniel and Malice called out together with the same angry retort.

“You need to get safely aboard a boat.”  Ethaniel barked.

“I'm not letting you go off alone at a time like this.”  Malice retorted angrily, their explanations, while completely different, were spoken at the same time.

Tower approached, his imposing figure like an immovable stature in the powerful wind of the storm.  “I'll go with you.”  He said.

I nodded to Tower.  His strength, and his size, would make him an asset.  I didn't know what it would take to get Telistera out of the bell tower, but it couldn't hurt to have his muscle aiding the cause.

I looked at Ethaniel and Malice.  “I have to do this.”  I said.  “Tower will be with me.  We will be fine.”

Ethaniel shook his head, his facial expression still full of anger.  “You're a fool, Noble.  Hers is one life.  You would risk two for hers alone?”

I pointedly ignored Ethaniel.  Malice looked worried.  She was worried enough that she hadn't even been bothered when I referred to her as Malice, and not Laouna.  I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Damn you Lowin, sometimes you really are a fool.”  She said.

I smiled.  “I can't help it.”  I turned and walked away.  Tower fell in at my side.  Ethaniel would see that Malice was safe.  I had to hope he would do as ordered.  Of course, Malice could take care of herself, so long as she didn't do anything stupid like try and follow me.  I had confidence that she would be safe.

Tower and I ran across the deck towards the tower, the bell still blaring loudly through the darkness of the storm.  A bright red flash erupted in the distance, and a loud, concussive explosion sounded afterwards. The ship shook with the blast, though it had been quite far away.  I had seen only a flash of red, and only for an instant so fast that I was barely sure I'd see it at all, but my eyes, sensitive as they were to movement, held onto the traced path of that bolt.

I had seen lightening many times, spidering its way through the sky so quickly a blink might cause one to miss its passing, but the red streak was faster.  Telistera's father had told the truth.  The hole in the ship was the result of one of those legendary events.  No doubt remained in my mind.  What an unearthly power, that could rip our ship asunder with such terrible ease and speed.    Red streaks were real, and they were terrible.  I wondered if they were some form of magic, or just another monster of the natural world that lay unknown beyond the realms of men.

I don't know what triggered my next move, but suddenly the world slowed around me, and I found myself diving backwards.  A piece of ice the size two fists held together slammed into the ground where I had been standing a fraction of a second before.  I watched it shatter, exploding into tiny fragments of shining slivers, and a cloud of ice dust.  Sped up as I was, it was a beautiful destruction.  Whether it had been my hearing, or perhaps something I had seen out of the corner of my eye, I didn't know, but in that moment my preternaturally sharp reflexes had saved my life.  I let the speed carry me forward, flashing across the remaining distance to the bell tower, and scaling it as quickly as I could with one hand.

Tower sped forward as well, though he moved slowly through the abyss of speed in comparison, and I reached the top long before he did.  Telistera was ringing the bell for all that she was worth, a look of panicked desperation on her face.

I slowed down as I pushed open the door to the small room.

“Telistera, we need to leave now.  It's time for you to go as well.”  I told her.  She jumped as I spoke, oblivious to my presence until that moment.  Her free hand kept ringing the bell.  The other hand was wrapped around the handle of her staff weapon.

“We must make sure everyone knows.”  She said.  Her face was tear streaked.  I realized then that she wasn't just suffering the loss of our ship, but the loss of every ship she'd seen go down on her first voyage across the endless seas.  How many of her people had died in that damned journey?  How many did she feel directly responsible for?  Telistera was a warrior of her people.  They had put their faith in her protection, and in her eyes she had failed them.  I had seen it in her before, just beneath her silver gaze, a haunted look that never quite left.  I had seen that same look in my own eyes often enough.  I had given up on mirrors, tired of seeing myself, and what I had become in them.  Had Telistera done the same?  Did she see only her own failure to protect her people when she looked at herself?

“Everyone knows, Telistera.  Please, we too need to leave now.”  It was Tower who spoke this time.  His voice was uncharacteristically strong as he spoke to the silver-eyed woman, perhaps because he'd found his strength in action, or perhaps simply because it had to be to be heard over the crush of the rain pounding on the wood of the bell house.

Telistera seemed to come to.  Her hand stopped on the bell.  She withdrew it.

“Of course, I guess it's time to abandon ship.”  She said, she looked empty, as though she had rung out the last vestiges of her spirit with the tolling of the bell.

We hit the deck running.  Tower dragged Telistera with him, holding her hand so she did not fall away.  We ran for the side rail of the ship, even as the deck slanted further into the sea beneath us.  I didn't know which boats we were running to, I just hoped we would find the other Knights there when we arrived.  My ears twitched, and the speed enveloped me.

I drew my sword and leapt into the air even as my conscious mind became aware of what I was doing.  My blade hit a massive piece of ice that had been barreling toward the unwary backs of Tower and Telistera.  The ice chunk split against my steel and smashed harmlessly to the deck to either side of them instead.  I rolled to my feet coming up in front of the other two.  To their credit, they did not slow pace.  We reached the railing, and found a boat still waiting below us.

I saw the other Knights of Ethan holding position for us.  Distantly, almost entirely hidden by the torrent of rain that caused my motion sensitive vision to be confusing, I could see what I assumed was another life boat further out to sea.  Would the fragile seeming little boats be able to hold up to the storm around us?  What if one was struck by a red streak?  I didn't know.  I didn't want to think about the consequences of abandoning our ship.  We had no other choice.

I saw the look of relief on Malice's face when I leaned over the railing to make sure there was a rope down which Telistera could descend.  I put the rope in the silver-eyed woman's hands, and made sure she was paying attention to me by touching the side of her face with one hand.  I saw her eyes sharpen, though I couldn't be certain they were focusing on me since they had no pupils, there was definite change in their attention.  I hoped that meant she was watching me.

“No one else gets off this ship until you are safely in the life boat, do you understand?”  I asked her, making sure she knew that Tower and I would be remaining on board until she was safely in the boat below.  I didn't want her doing anything foolish.  She nodded numbly.  She'd heard, though I still felt that she was leaving some part of herself behind with our sinking ship.  I watched over the rail as she descended.  Tower stood at my side.  As she reached bottom, and I saw Snow and Malice taking her to the back of the boat, I turned to Tower.

“Alright, it's our tu . . .” I didn't get to finish that sentence.  The world flashed red.

I was burning hot, and then I was freezing cold, in between there was so much light that I felt my eyes might explode in my skull.  I felt something heavy hit me, and then I was surrounded by frigid water.  I struggled, thrashing about, trying to find the surface, but I couldn't find the direction that was up.  My eyes cleared, and suddenly I could see motion, trails of light falling downward, away from me.  I realized what I was seeing after a moment.  I was seeing fragments of the ship, blasted off by the red streak that had just struck, sinking into the ocean.  One object though, a streak of motion falling into darkness, was different than the others.  It was man shaped.  Tower, I realized with a start.  I abandoned my struggle for the surface of the water and swam downward.  I grabbed his limp body and tried to swim back up, but my sword, and his sword, our armor, and our clothes, were just too much for me to handle with only one arm to swim with.  I willed my claws sharp and tore the bindings of my sword, and then Tower's.  Our weapons fell away, and then I cut free the fabric of our cloaks, and the armor beneath.  Suddenly I could move upward.  I surged towards the surface with all the strength I could muster.  At some point I had breathed in, the water filling my lungs, but I was not dead.  As had happened before, my body was wresting air from the frigid brine.

I didn't believe that Tower would be so adaptable.  He wasn't moving in my grip.  The surface of the water opened up before me, and suddenly I was in the air again.  The bitter chill of the wind sunk even deeper than that of the cold water all around me.  I breathed out, and water sputtered out of my mouth, my next few breaths were a strange mix of water and air that caused me to gag and choke.  I was not suffocating though. I made every effort to keep Tower's head above the level of the water.  It was difficult in the turbulent waves, the giant swells constantly threatening to engulf me and my waterlogged companion.  I squeezed my arm around his diaphragm, and put as much pressure on it as I dared, willing him to breath.  Nothing.

I tried again and again, still nothing.

“Damn it, you haven't told Snow that you love her yet you worthless tree of a man, breath!  You will damn well breathe!”  I squeezed again, and as if on command, he choked, vomiting out the sea that had filled him.  He thrashed for a moment, in panic, and then he stopped, calming.  I released him and he trod water beside me.  The sea surged beneath us, lifting us up higher than a castle wall with each crest.  I grabbed his shirt so that we would not be parted.

“I hurt!”  He yelled into the storm.  “I think I've been burned.”

“You were almost dead, be happy you hurt.”  I answered.

“Thank you, Noble.”  He said, after a moment of no other sound than the fury of the storm.  I was about to reply when my eyes caught sight of the prow of a small boat moving towards us.

“They're here!”  I heard a familiar voice yell, Snow I thought, and then there were hands reaching down to us, and we were lifted up into the relative dryness of a life boat.  I had never been so happy to see Ethaniel's face before as I was when his powerful arms tore me from the grip of the sea.

“Damn fool.”  He said, though it seemed to me there was some relief in his voice.

“You're right, I'm a damn fool.”  I agreed.  I was a fool, but at least I was alive.

Keeping our relatively small vessel afloat amidst the surging seas was a difficult endeavor.  We crested swells that spanned higher than buildings, and narrowly avoided further red streaks.  The explosions from those close strikes knocked our boat over on more than one occasion, leaving us all desperately scrambling to flip over our craft and get back inside.  When we were not fighting the waves or the red streaks, we were struggling to keep the water out of the boat.  It rained so hard that it was a near constant battle to keep our craft afloat.

I couldn't say how long the storm raged around us, whether it were only days, or weeks.  Underneath the black skies time was lost to the torrent of rain, and the constant need to keep moving.  Our boat contained all the Knights of Ethan, and Telistera.  In those very rare moments of calm, I wondered what had become of the others who had fled the ship.  Their boats, wherever they had gone, were nowhere near ours.  Had Liet and his people made it to safety?  What of Captain and his men?  I did not know, and no amount of worrying about it did any good.  I could only hope that they fared as well, if not better, than did we.

The storm ended.  It was a gradual transition.  One moment the skies were black, and then they began to lighten as the hours passed.  The rain trailed off, and patches of blue broke through the pervasive darkness, great rifts in the blanket of storm above.  The sea grew calm, and we slept.  There was no decision made to rest.  It was a simple matter of necessity.  None of us had closed an eye through the entire ordeal.    There was plenty of room for all of us to lie down, as the life boat had been meant to carry 25, and there were only seven of us:  Tower, Telistera, Snow, Silver, Malice, Ethaniel and myself.

When I woke, it was late in the day.  The sun, a friend I had thought forever lost, was sinking below the horizon, and the brightest stars were already visible in the sky.  I sat up, noticing that I was covered in part of a shifting cloak.  As I moved to right myself, I felt a stirring to my left.  Malice sat up as well, curled under the cloak at my side.  Hearing the stirring, others began to get up.  Soon all of us were awake, staring out over the still sea, the bleak realization of our situation settling in.  There was no land in sight, and we were adrift without our sails.  Worse, we were still in deep water, and with no way to propel ourselves forward, it was only a matter of time until the creatures of the deep found us again.

“Do you know how far out from land we still are?”  I asked Telistera after we'd all sat in silence for a few hours.  The stars had settled in above.  Telistera looked up, as did we all.  The stars were in strange places in the sky.  We had come so far that even the familiar points of light that seemed constant above us, were no longer where they should be.

“The ship's instruments indicated we had a month, maybe less, when last I checked, but it's impossible to know if they were accurate in the storm.  The ship is gone anyway, so our pace will be much slower.  These stars look familiar to me.  That means we are getting close to my home, but without the right equipment, I just can't say how much further we have to go.”  Telistera explained, her expression crestfallen.

“By ship, we are about three weeks out from shore.”  Ethaniel said, and every eye in the boat turned to the old Knight.  His statement was a shock to everyone.  It was more the confidence with which he spoke, than the actual statement itself which was so surprising.

“How do you know that?”  Snow asked, echoing the question that had been at the tip of my tongue.

“I studied the charts in great detail while aboard the ship.”  He answered.  He pointed to the sky, to a bright green star just above the horizon.  “That is Teretal Tui'en.  We travel away from that star, and when it is beneath the horizon at this time of night, we will be at our destination.”

His answer seemed legitimate, but it didn't settle well with me.  Ethaniel had never studied the chats that I knew of.  He'd spent most of his time locked away in his room.  The charts were kept elsewhere, and had they gone missing people would have noticed, particularly Telistera.  She had done most of our navigating.  I looked to the silver-eyed woman.  Her expression was difficult to read, but I felt that she was having the same thoughts as me.  Ethaniel was lying, but only partially.  He obviously knew something of the local stars, and the methods to navigate by them, but how had he learned?  His eyes could see far and wide, but being able to see a distance didn't necessarily give one an understanding of how long it would take to travel that distance.  Besides, Ethaniel had always said that his eyes worked only when they wanted to.  Under other circumstances, I might have pressed the point.  With just the seven of us on our small boat, it was not the time to make an issue.  Conflict could cost lives.  I would need to keep a close eye on Ethaniel.  My distrust of the old Knight was growing.

“We have oars.  We should begin paddling.”  Ethaniel added.

“What will we do when the creatures in the sea come?”  Snow asked.  There wasn't fear in her voice, but I knew it was a question that lay inside of all of us.  Just because I could not hear the fear, did not mean that it wasn't there.  I was afraid, and I was sure the others were as well.

“They might not notice a craft as small as ours.”  I answered.  My words were an attempt to give the others hope.  I didn't put much faith in them myself.  I did not doubt that the great sea monster would come again.  It was only a matter of time.  The further we got from the storm, the more obvious our presence on the surface of the water would be.  Being small might make it more difficult to find us at a distance, but then I wasn't sure how those behemoths of the sea found their prey.

“How are our supplies?”  It was Silver who spoke, her voice quiet.

Ethaniel answered.  “We have fresh water to last us three weeks, food to last a month.  If we ate and drank the way humans did, we'd only have a few days of both, but we have a slight advantage.”

We were lucky.  Even Telistera ate as we did, infrequently, and small quantities.  Of course, Malice had grown accustomed to eating more, and sleeping more than a normal Knight.  She had not done so during our struggle to survive the storm.  She had stayed awake with the rest of us, breaking her normal sleep cycle for the first time since she'd lost her memories.  It had not occurred to me before that moment.  I looked at the green-eyed Knight.  She didn't seem any worse for wear than the rest of us, and she was stoically accepting the fact that she would be eating only every couple of days, as well.  Would she feel as though we were starving her?  I worried, but I tried not to show it outwardly.  Her memories were gone, but had anything changed about her physically?  She seemed as strong and willful as ever.  She'd already been on light rations for a week.  Time would tell.

We broke out the oars and began to paddle, Ethaniel guiding our direction.  We had no choice but to trust his guidance since none of the rest of us knew how to navigate without equipment.  We were not men of the sea, despite the fact that we had spent so long on its surface.  We were fighting men, and that was what we did best.  If Ethaniel said he knew the way, we would have to believe that he did.  I could see no benefit in him misguiding us.  He was as much stranded as the rest of us.  Until we reached land, we were all dependent upon one another.

We paddled for what felt like forever, working the six oars constantly, only stopping when it was time to shift one person off of the paddles for a time.  This went on for an entire week, with only one break for a few hours of sleep.  The work was unrewarding.  No matter how much paddling one did, it always felt as though we were not moving at all.  The ripples of the passing of our boat were the only indication that we were changing position at all.  I watched Malice for any sign that she was ill affected by the sudden change in her normal patterns, but she did not complain.  She smiled little, though, and spoke rarely.  In a way, she was more like her old self than ever before.  If that were true, though, why did I miss her smile so keenly?

We were eight days paddling when a dark spot appeared on the horizon, small, but growing larger.  We all stopped at once, drawing our oars from the water.

“What's that?”  Silver asked.  We all squinted to see, straining against the unending horizon, trying to make out whatever shape was breaking that line we'd been chasing for a week.

I stood up in the boat and peered, trying to focus on the object.  It was still so distant.  Our craft drifted out of line, and I used my oar to right it so we could face the black speck again.  The dot began to take shape.

“Sails. . .”  I said, as I recognized enough of the object to make out what I was seeing.  I couldn't believe it.  “It's a ship!”  An almost euphoric relief passed through me, and those in the boat seemed to explode into an outburst of pleasure.  Silver's voice, though, broke the momentary joy we'd all been on the cusp of enjoying.

“What kind of ship would dare sail this far into deep waters?”  She said, and her words doused the momentary excitement of the crew like a bucket of cold water dispels the warmth of a fire.

Telistera shook her head.  “My people don't sail this deep.”

Suddenly the ship on the horizon, which seemed to be sailing unerringly in our direction, no longer looked like salvation.

As the approaching vessel drew nearer, Telistera became more and more troubled.  “It's one of our ships.”  She said, as the outline of the craft became clear against the horizon.

“Then you should be happy.  Your people are close at hand, and we're to be saved.”  Ethaniel said, his voice dry, a hostile edge suffusing it.

“My people do not sail this far out to sea.”  The silver-eyed warrior restated, her hands ringing the wood handle of her staff weapon.

“You sailed all the way across the ocean.  Why is it so strange that others might sail out into the deeps as well?”  Ethaniel retorted.  He had a valid point, though I too felt that something was amiss.

Telistera ignored the old Knight's reply entirely, which I thought was probably for the better.

“We don't know who they are, or what their business is out here yet. Whatever business they may be about, we couldn't do ourselves any harm by getting out of this life boat and back aboard a ship.  If they are willing to take us aboard, we might yet make Telistera's homeland.  The alternative is bleak.”  I said, trying to calm everyone's agitation.

“. . . and if they don't intend to return the way they came?”  It was Silver who asked the question, but I had already anticipated it.  Indeed, that question had passed through my mind shortly after first spotting the foreign ship.  What was to be done if the crew of the ship was heading back the way we came, and had no intention of returning to Tett O Sut?  The ship might well be full of more survivors of the Hungering onslaught trying to break free.  What would we do if they refused to turn about?  We should acquiesce, return to our boat, and continue on our long and impossible path.  Even that possibility floated through my mind, I felt a searing rage take seat in my gut.  No, I would not be turned back, and I would not return to the boat that might never see me to my destination.  If I had to, I would make the ships occupants take me where I needed to go.  It was a painful realization to come upon, but I could not deny the knowledge.  I could lie to the others, but not to myself.  I was too close to fail.

“We'll have to take matters as they come.”  I answered Silver, hoping my hesitance to answer did not so clearly spell out the inner workings of my mind.  What would the others think if we were forced into such a situation?  Would they still follow me, or would they rally against me?  What of Malice?  I clenched my jaw and pushed those thoughts away.  Speculation would not help the situation that lay before me.  I needed to focus on what was happening, and stop worrying about what might, or might not, happen in the future.  One could only prepare themselves so much for the eventualities to come.  After that point of readiness, further troubling over future events was counterproductive.

The ship loomed nearer, approaching until it began to slow as it drew within hailing range.  Its sails came down and an anchor was thrown out.  I could make out the shapes of figures moving across the deck, though I could not see them clearly.  The ship was less than a third of the size ours had been, but not small.  It looked like it had been to sea many times, aged and tired, but apparently well kept.  We took up our oars and paddled our life boat closer to the ship, progressing with caution.  They had traveled in a straight line out to us, and stopped before reaching us.  It was as though they'd known exactly where we were, and had come to find us.  That, of course, made no sense, and appearances could be deceiving, but. . .

As our boat drew near, the crew of the ship came into sight for the first time.  They were hooded figures, moving quickly about their craft, with agile grace that was somehow familiar and strange at the same time.  Each of them was tightly wrapped in shabby hoods and cloth, obscuring any sign of who they might be.  A figure stepped to the edge of our mysterious salvation and cast a rope ladder over the side as our boat clattered to the side of the larger craft.

“Do you need transport back to land?”  A strong female voice called down, the accent lilting and familiar.  It was the same accent that Telistera spoke with.  It didn't obscure the language as some foreign accents did, but it gave the words a distinctly alien cast.  The woman wore a brown cloak, as did the rest of her crew, the hood pulled low over her face.  I noticed that her hands were wrapped in bandages.

“Our ship was destroyed in a storm.  We thought ourselves doomed to die at sea.  It is fortunate that you found us.”  I called up, as I stood to catch the proffered rope ladder.  The woman dropped down another rope, a line to tie down our boat.  Tower caught it and set to work at securing our craft.

“You're indeed quite lucky we found you.  Few ships sail out from shore anymore, and none but ours come this far out.”  The woman called.  “You are welcome aboard.  We will turn about and head for shore as soon as you are on deck.  I warn you though, keep your distance from our crew.  We have the creep, and it's highly contagious.”

I heard Telistera's sharp intake of breath, but I had never heard of “the creep” before.  I was about to ask what “the creep” was, but Telistera shot me a sharp look that said I had better keep my mouth closed.  I was hesitant to move our people aboard a ship with a contagious disease.  The situation, however, was dire.  We needed a ship, and one had just so happened to fall in our path.  I would be a fool to turn down such an amazing turn of events.  Or, perhaps, I would be a fool to blindly accept such uncommon luck.  Either way, my goal was laid out before me, and I could not pass up an opportunity that would take me nearer my destination.

Telistera moved to the rope ladder, her weapon latched onto a clip on her back so she could scale the rope without it getting in the way.  I followed her up, and Malice came behind me, shortly followed by the others.  I watched the Knights as they climbed.  I could see the tension, the fear of the unknown, in the eyes of all of them, except for Ethaniel.  He seemed calm.  In fact, he seemed more relaxed than I had seen him in a long time.  His gray eyes, normally so dark and hostile, seemed almost at peace.  It was that, above all else, that put me most on edge.  I wasn't sure how a ship had just happened to come across us in the deeps of the great sea, but the situation felt wrong to me.  Ethaniel's calm acceptance, when he was generally the first to speak out against any activity he considered suspicious, raised my hackles.

As we came up on deck, the crew of the ship gave us a wide birth.  They didn't even really seem to notice us, other than that they stayed as far away from us as possible as they went about their jobs.  The woman, who I took to be the captain of the ship, kept her distance as well, though I felt as though her eyes were upon me.  I couldn't see them beneath her hood, and the bottom part of her face was covered by linen wrappings, but my skin prickled as though sharp points of ice were striking my bare flesh.

“I trust you will make yourselves comfortable up here on deck for the duration of your stay.  I'd offer your greater hospitality, but with our condition I imagine you would be safest up here.”  The hooded woman said.

“We can't thank you enough for helping us out of our situation.  It is unlikely we would have survived if you hadn't found us.”  I replied, offering a deep bow, but not quite taking my eyes from the ship's captain, or at least the ship's representative.

“The sea is a place of misfortune.  If those cast to its foul temper do not help each other out, we stand no chance at all in surviving its fury.”  She replied.  Her voice was calm and her words surprisingly eloquent.  I was again struck by a sense of unreality, as though what was happening should not be.

“I am Noble, and these are my friends, Malice, Ethaniel, Telistera, Snow, Tower, and Silver.”  I offered an introduction, since our host had not yet offered one of her own.  “We are bound for the mainland, returning our friend to her home.”

“Oh, returning a friend. . .”  I thought I heard a catch in her voice, as though she was mocking me, but it passed in a moment.  “I am Shay 'Fiiel.”  The woman introduced herself.  She did not offer the names of any of her crew.

“You are far out to sea, Shay 'Fiiel.”  Telistera spoke up.  I winced a bit at the silver-eyed woman's bluntness.  My curiosity, however, kept me from speaking up.

“Yes, the bounty of the sea is much richer this far out.  There is risk involved in making money this way, but when you are afflicted with a disease that shortens your life by so much, the risk is acceptable for the pay off.”  Shay 'Fiiel answered smoothly.  If she was insulted, she let no sign of it show through in her voice.

I looked to Telistera, to see if she was satisfied with the answer.  I couldn't read the expression on her face, but she did not speak again. An awkward silence hung in the air.

“If there is nothing more, I will see to preparations to bring the ship back in to shore. . .”  The female ship captain said.  We raised no protest.  I wondered if the others felt as uneasy as I did.  The situation was too conveniently solved.  The strange crew went about their duties, making a wide arch around us.  I watched them flit about the deck, their sinewy movements familiar in some way that I couldn't place.  They were strong and agile.  Were these the bodies of men and women in the throes of a terrible disease?  I needed to know more about the creep.

I sat down on the deck, in a quiet, out of the way, place.  The others followed me.

“Telistera, tell me about the creep.”  I asked the silver-eyed woman, in a quiet tone so that none would overhear.

“In a moment, don't you think it is strange that our appearance did not raise any unusual notice from any of the crew?”  Telistera's whisper cut through the air.  It hadn't struck me until she said it, but she was right.  The ship was crewed by members of Telistera's people, and it was likely they had never seen a Knight of Ethan before.  We should have been a curiosity to them, yet no one paid us any mind.  At the very least Telistera, a legendary warrior of her people, should have attracted some notice.  There was nothing.  A chill passed through me.  I still wanted an answer to my question, though.

“That is strange, and might be a matter worth bringing up before Shay 'Fiiel, but please, explain to me what the creep is.”  I bade my silver-eyed companion.  She looked uneasy, but she explained.

“Before the creep, our people knew nothing of disease.  In fact, until I learned of your people, I did not understand that there are many different types of disease in the world.  We lived for generations without ever growing sick.  We had stomach ailments, caused by eating bad food, and we had injuries, and the problems associated with treating them, but we did not have diseases that could be spread from one person to another.  The creep changed that.  It started in a coastal village.  A young fisherman went out to sea, and when he came back he had a strange green discoloration on the side of his leg.”

“Of course, everyone in the village was curious.  No one had seen anything like it before, so everyone came to see what strange thing had befallen one of their own.  Within a week, most of their village had already been infected.  They all showed signs of the green spot.  Things boded ill for the first man to be infected. The strange spot had spread all over his leg, and he was beginning to feel terrible pain in that limb.  He visited the village elder, the pillar of wisdom for his people.  When the elder could not help him, he left his village and searched for help elsewhere.

“This spread the disease even further, and infected more villages.  Within a month, what had begun as a small spot on one man's leg, had spread to hundreds of people, spreading across their flesh and leaving them in terrible pain.  The man who'd first contracted the disease fared the worst.  As the green spots spread across his flesh, pain exploded beneath his skin.  They were already referring to this strange new plague as the creep, because of the way it crept from one person to the next, and then across their skin like some foul horde of insects.  People were wary of it, but it had not yet earned its place of horror.  My people had been growing increasingly distrustful of those infected with the creep, but they were still allowed to live relatively normal lives.  We required that they bandage their sores, and try their best not to come into contact with others who had not been infected.

“The young man who had first gotten the disease took a turn for the worse.  The flesh on his leg ruptured into a mess of black puss and disease.  The bone had been eaten away entirely in places.  The limb was so foul, that when they went to cut it away, the knife met little to no resistance as the surgeon performed his grim task.  All those who were sick with the creep began to suffer the same symptoms.  My people made a difficult choice.  We declared those infected with the creep as pariah, and cast them out of our society.  We feared that a further spread of the disease might destroy us all.  It was a difficult decision to make.  It worked to stem the spread, but we never managed to completely eliminate the sickness.  Until this ship, however, I had never encountered anyone suffering from the disease.”  Telistera finished her retelling of events.  I'd encountered many different sicknesses throughout my life, but none as bad as the one that my foreign companion had just described.  Her retelling left my stomach sour.

I wasn't sure which part of her story was most disturbing to me.  The disease was horrific.  We had no sickness so terrible in our lands, but I was also startled by the calm way in which Telistera accepted that her people had banished those with the disease.  I understood why it was done.  What bothered me the most, I realized after she'd finished telling her tale, was that I might have done the same thing in that position.  For the sake of the people as a whole, some must be cast out so others could live.  Telistera's society was different from our own, but it seemed that it suffered from the same failings.  A small portion would be sacrificed to better the whole.  How was that any different than what Lucidil had once done to Kay?  He had given my daughter to the Hungering so that they would leave the lands of men in peace, saving hundreds of thousands of lives.

I hated Lucidil for that.  Had it been the right choice?  I grit my teeth and pushed that thought aside.  It was easier not to look at such an ugly question.

One of the crew of the ship approached the center mast, took hold, and ascended the wood beam with smooth grace, climbing as though unhindered by a fear of falling, or the strain of their own body weight.  My eyes were transfixed by the sight, and I noted that the others were also watching with some curiosity.  Our mast had a ladder, and our crew had never ascended so quickly.

“From what you know of the creep, do these look like men infected by a disease that is eating away at their bodies?”  I asked Telistera.  I was unaware of what the progression of such a disease did to one's body, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that it filled men with such vigor.

She shook her head in negative to my reply.  I looked to the others, and they also shook their heads, no.  None of the crew moved as though they were debilitated in any way.  In fact, most of them were unusually agile and precise in their motions.  I felt that we were being deceived, worse, I felt that there was something dangerous being hidden from me.  It felt as though there was a knife at my throat, and the only thing stopping it from cutting me, was that I didn't know that it was there.  However, leave a knife at your throat long enough, whether you see it or not, and it will cut you.

“Ethaniel,” I spoke to the four-eyed Knight.  His attention, which had seemed to be focused elsewhere, shifted back to me.  “I need you to keep track of our direction of movement.  You're the only one of us that knows how to track our progress.  I need to know if we start going off course.”

Ethaniel replied by bowing his head slightly.  He said nothing, but his eyes, all four of them, became distant again.  A wave of worry swept through me, but I swallowed it down and forced myself to stay sharp.  I had to trust that Ethaniel would do what was in our best interest.

“As long as we're on course, it would be foolish to do anything that might get us cast back out to sea.  Right now we have access to a ship, but everyone needs to remain alert to the possibility that the situation could become hostile at any minute.  I want us all to remain close together, and constantly vigilant.  I don't believe that Shay 'Fiiel is telling us the truth, and even if she is, that is no reason not to keep an eye open.  We'll avoid the crew unless absolutely necessary, so if there is disease aboard this ship, it will not spread to us.”  I gave the others my orders, fully aware of the risk I was taking.  We could have returned to our life raft, but that was another type of risk, and one that I felt stood a greater chance of failing, than the one we were already facing.  The ship was an unknown quantity. The small raft on the open waters was just a matter of waiting for death to find us.  We might survive in the raft if it was too small to draw notice, but otherwise we would be dead for sure.  I wondered, and not for the first time, what had become of the others.  Obviously they were not aboard the ship that had saved us.  Had they all been lost to the storm?  I thought of Liet, Captain, and the new lives born to the black cloaks.  They had not deserved such a fate.  I could do nothing but hope that they would find land safely, and hope was such a fragile thing.

“We could take the ship by force.”  Silver suggested, freeing me from my cycle of worries, and echoing a thought I'd had earlier myself.  It was always an option, but as long as the ship was going in the right direction, we would not need to take such a drastic action.  I was about to open my mouth and state just that, but Ethaniel spoke up before me.

“They have turned us about in the right direction.  It would be foolish to fight them when they are just trying to aid us.  None of us can be certain of their motives.  Caution is our best option.”  The old Knight said, offering advice that, for a change, seemed sound.  For some reason that only made me more wary of him.  Ethaniel had been only too eager to put down the black cloaks, but in the case of the strange crew and their captain, he was taking a radically different stance.

“You don't usually suggest caution.”  I said, deciding it was time to voice at least some of my concerns.  “Would you care to explain why you've had a change of heart?”

The gray smoking eyes above his Knight's eyes seemed to grow dark with rage for a moment as they looked at me.  However, when he spoke, his voice was relatively calm.

“The situation has changed, King Noble.  This ship is not our own, and these people were kind enough to pull us from the very hands of the sea.  Unlike the Brigade, there is no reason to suspect them of having ulterior motives.”  His reply was delivered too calmly.

“No reason to suspect them?  You mean to tell me that you don't find it strange that they just happened to find our tiny boat amidst this entire expanse of sea?  It isn't suspect that they are sailing in waters normally avoided by Telistera's people, and you don't find it the least bit strange that, despite allegedly having a terrible sickness, the crew moves as though they are all well trained acrobats at the prime of their health?”  As I spoke, I had to constantly struggle to control the volume of my voice.  Anger gnawed away inside of me.

“Luck is with us for a change, and as for their disease, do we really know enough about it to make any judgments as to what state the crew should be in?  Perhaps those suffering the worse are below deck, and those managing the ship are only recently afflicted.”  Ethaniel answered, again his reply seemed too smooth, too easy.

“You knew they were coming.”  I said the words as the thought occurred to me, and immediately wished I could take them back.  I wasn't afraid of Ethaniel, but my suspicions would have served me better if kept to myself.  Ethaniel's eyes, all four, shot open wide, though he hid the surprise almost as quickly as it appeared.  Had he seen the ship approaching with his eyes, or was there something more than that?  I didn't know for sure, but I felt certain that he'd at least known it was coming.  Of all of us, he'd been the only who'd not seemed surprised.  In fact, he had been calm through our entire ordeal.

All eyes fell upon the old Knight.  “I may have seen the ship, with my far vision, but I didn't know for certain it would meet up with us.  My vision doesn't work like that, when it works.  I can see things far away, but I can't tell how far they are, or exactly in which direction.”  This explanation did not seem as readily prepared as the last.  We'd caught him in something, though I wasn't sure exactly what it was.  I remembered a time when he had used his eyes to guide the armies of Lucidil.  It seemed that recently his vision had been far less cooperative. At least, he claimed it was.

“If you knew there was a ship, why didn't you tell us so that we knew to watch for it?”  It was Malice who asked.  There was an edge to her voice that I had not heard there in years.  My eyes snapped to her.  Her expression was firm and angry.  I knew that expression well.  Laouna had never used it.

“If we had not crossed paths with the ship, you would have cursed me for giving you false hope.  I couldn't be certain we would even come within sight of the ship, so I did not intend to tell you about it.  What does it matter?  They found us, and now we can finish our mission.”  Ethaniel's ire was rising.  I could hear the anger coming into his words, as his control over the voice slipped.

“You withheld information vital to our survival, and you expect us not to be angry with you?”  This time it was Silver, she looked on the verge of rising.

“I did what I deemed necessary.”  Ethaniel growled his reply, and he looked like he might rise and draw sword.

“Enough.”  I said, deciding to head off any conflict that might erupt if that line of dialogue was allowed to continue.  “For now we will have to bide our time and see what happens.  We are headed in the right direction, that's what matters.  We will have to settle these other problems at a better time.”  Even as I spoke those words, I realized just how foolish they were.  If Ethaniel was somehow involved with the people on the ship - though I didn't know how that could be - and if they were a threat to us, he would not tell us if we were traveling in the wrong direction.  Our problem was more immediate than it initially seemed.  However, a fight between the Knights of Ethan and Ethaniel would win us nothing but a further loss of lives.  I would need time to think.

“We'll take shifts sleeping.  After all the rowing we've done, we're all in need of a break.  Once we're well rested, we'll decide what to do next.  I'll take first watch.”  I announced.

“I'll stay up with you.”  Snow volunteered before any of the others did.

“Alright,” I answered.  “The rest of you bed down, I'll wake you in six hours.”

The other Knights, and Telistera, lay down on the deck and curled up under their cloaks.  Malice lay at my side, a warm presence next to me as I sat and watched the movement of the crew aboard ship.  . . . so familiar, yet so unusual.  Snow watched from the other side of our sleeping companions, looking out in the opposite direction.  I didn't say anything, but I found it difficult to relax with her at my back.  I knew that was foolish, and that in our situation, I had no reason not to trust the other Knight, but I couldn't shake that feeling of betrayal that she stirred within me.  I sat with my eyes outward, and forced myself not to check back over my shoulder.  I needed to think.  There were many issues that needed to be addressed, and I felt that time was growing short.

The hours drifted by, and though I was attentive, I never saw any member of the crew move in our direction.  For that matter, I never saw any member of the crew speak to another, or do anything other than the task they were assigned to do.  In a way, their actions reminded me of the black cloaks before they'd broken free from the magic that had bound them.  They went about their business with complete focus, and with no appearance of camaraderie.  They never even glanced at the other Knights, Telistera, or me.  The longer I watched them the stranger it all seemed, a dance in harmony, accompanied by silence.  The silence was broken.  A quiet song drifted to my ears, hummed so softly that even my sensitive hearing had to strain catch it.  The tone was familiar, a snippet from a dream that had been too real.

I turned, and saw that Snow was sitting with her white furred arms wrapped around her legs.  She was humming softly.  I'd only heard that song once before, yet coming from Snow it seemed to carry an entirely different emotional weight.  I listened to it for a time as she repeated the melody over and over again.  The pattern of music was simple, but beautiful, and for some reason it filled me with soothing calm.  I stood up from where I'd been sitting, moving carefully away from Malice so as not to wake her.

“That's a pretty song.”  I told Snow as I approached.  She looked up at me, and smiled.  Her expression was sad.

“My mother use to sing it to me as I'd drift off to sleep.  When I'm worried, it always comes back to me again.  I don't remember much of it anymore.”  Her eyes left mine and passed over the ship, watchful.  I turned to look back at my own side of the vessel.  All was as it had been.  Still, quiet.  The strange crew went about their work with a complete disinterest for their extra passengers.

“Sing it for me.”  I told Snow, the impulse to hear more of the song springing from some deep need within me to be comforted, or perhaps to better understand the song that had haunted one of my vivid and surreal dreams.  It wasn't right of me to ask, but I had found the melody enchanting.  I turned back to the pale-furred Knight.

Snow's cheeks were cast lightly red as she answered.  “I couldn't, Lowin.  I don't sing.”

“You've done a good job at humming.  I'd like to hear the words, at least the ones that you remember.”  I insisted.  I was glad she did not press me for any explanation for my sudden desire to hear the song, because I couldn't have given her one.  There are times in a person's life when they simply need something, more than food and drink, in order to go on.  At that moment, I needed Snow's song.  I needed the words to match the melody that swirled through my mind, easing away the troubles that threatened to rise up like some great monster and overwhelm me.  Listening to Snow hum the tune had made me relax, even if only for a short period of time.  It had been too long since I'd felt such relief.  Was the song magic?  I didn't think so, but at the same time, I knew that its harmonies were a different type of spell entirely.  No magic was weaved, but music could have its own variety of power.

Snow smiled shyly, an expression I had never really seen on her face.  For a second, a brief second, I forgot about her betrayal entirely.  She was my old friend again.  That moment passed quickly, and my foul associations returned to my mind, tainting the moment.

“If you insist, Lowin.”  She said, before clearing her throat.  She hummed the melody once, and then she began to sing.

In the morning, in the light,

no more worries, no more fright.

For the evening, close your eyes.

Tomorrow comes with sunny skies.

In your dreams, where heroes play,

sword and shield, you safely lay.

Sleep now child, rest and dream,

in that place of fields green.

Dream of dragons, dream of knights,

dream of brilliant, wondrous sights.

Dream of heroes, dream of flight,

dream of wrongs, all set right.

No more fear, little one.

Sleep my sweet, until the sun.

Rest your head, and be at ease,

drift and float on whimsy's breeze.

In the morning, in the light,

no more worries, no more fright.

Eyes shut softly, peace and calm,

no more troubles, night has gone.

Someday, I knew, I would write the words to that song, as she sang them there, but in no way could I ever hope to write those simple words and attach to them the depth of emotion they carried in the way she sang them.  Snow's voice was not the greatest singing voice I'd ever heard, but it didn't need to be, because she was the embodiment of that song, at that time.  She lent an energy to the words that I didn't believe any other ever could.

“There were other words," She explained as the song trailed off.  “I don't remember them anymore.  It seems like that was a long time ago, and I didn't think I would need to remember it all.”

I smiled.  “That was enough.  Thank you, Snow.”  I said, as I turned and walked back to my post.  I took count of the other Knights, and made sure the area was clear, and then I sat down again, next to Malice.  Snow's song.  I would never forget it.

“Noble, Ethaniel is gone!”  Those panicked words pulled me from sleep like a dousing of cold water.  I was on my feet, and reaching for my weapon before my eyes had even come fully open.  Of course, my weapon was gone, and as my vision cleared, I realized there was no immediate threat to my safety.  Tower was standing over me.  Even though I was on my feet, I still had to look up to meet his eyes.

“What do you mean he's gone?”  I asked, attempting to draw the fog of sleep from my brain.  I checked the position of the sun.  Two hours had passed since I'd finally been relieved of the watch.  Snow and I had been the only ones sleeping.

“I took a head count less than five minutes ago, but when I checked again, he was missing.”  Tower explained as calmly as he could.  He was obviously agitated, and I couldn't blame him.  Ethaniel had been acting strangely, and his sudden disappearance did not settle well with me either.   I scanned the deck looking for where he might have gone.  There was no sign of him.

“Malice, I'd like to borrow your sword.”  I picked her because she was nearest to me other than Tower, who, like me, did not have a weapon.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do yet, but I had no intention of doing whatever it might be without a sword.  Steel, cold thought it may be, is as warm a companion as any in times of strife.  “I'll need the scabbard as well.”  She hesitated only a moment before unfastening the weapon and passing it to me.

“Thank you.”  I said as I took the blade from her and fastened its scabbard around my waist.  It was a difficult process with one hand, but one I'd grown familiar with over the years.  I placed my hand on the weapons hilt.  It was immediately comfortable and familiar to me.  That sword of fine king's steel was as tried as an old friend, one I had not seen in a while, but one I would never forget and could always trust.  It was a standard sword of the Knights of Ethan, and probably would have served much better in Malice's hand than in my own.  However, I would not send the others into danger if I did not have to.

All eyes were upon me.  “I want you to stay here.  I'm going to find Ethaniel.  In the mean time, keep a close watch on one another.  No one leaves the group for any reason.  This whole ship, and everyone aboard it, sets ill with me.  Be vigilant.”  I turned quickly, and walked away from the others, not giving anyone time to protest.  I knew some would want to.  They would tell me I shouldn't go alone, and perhaps they were right.  I'd never been great at taking the advice of others.

I moved quickly across the deck, passing along the wood planking while keeping my eyes open for any sign of Ethaniel's passing.  I approached one of the crew, cautiously moving in until I knew I would be near enough for them to hear me without having to yell.

“Have you seen one of our men - a little taller than me, with wings - did he come by here?”  I asked.  The crew member did not even lift his eyes to look at me, nor did he turn in my direction as though he'd heard me.  He failed to acknowledge my presence at all.

“Hey, did you see a tall man with wings come through here?”  I repeated my question again, with more volume.  Nothing.

I grabbed one of his shoulders, and turned the figure towards me.  There was no resistance, but the man did not look up at me at all.  He kept his hooded head bowed low.  The shoulder I'd grabbed on to was bony to the point of famine through the cloth, but firm and I could feel the muscles move as his arms shifted.  Sinew, bone, and muscle.  Once more I felt a sense of familiarity wash over me, but I put it aside.

“Please, I just want to know if you saw our friend pass this way.”  I released the shoulder, and the crewman turned away from me and went back to his job without a single word.  My ire rose, and I was assailed by a sudden urge to strike out in violence.  I had to restrain the impulse, though it was quite a difficult thing to do.  The urge to maim and kill raced through my blood, causing my hand to twitch towards my weapon.  It took a strong effort on my part to resist.  How much time had passed since Ethaniel had vanished?  Five minutes?  Ten?

I realized there would be no answers forthcoming from the crew of the ship. They were no ordinary crew.  Whatever was wrong with them, I did not believe it was a sickness.  I walked towards the door to below decks.  I'd known it would probably be necessary, but I hadn't wanted to go that route until all others had been extinguished.  Ethaniel was not atop the ship, and the crew would not speak to me.  My options were limited.  I drew my borrowed sword as I approached the door.

I half expected the entry way to the ships interior to be locked, but the door swung easily open as I pressed it with the tip of my sword.  The latch was not fastened at all.  Someone had gone through, and not bothered to close it on their way by.  The door opened into complete darkness.  Where the last of the sun faded from the opening created by the door, so too did the light penetrating the level below the main deck.  The ship was eerily quiet on the inside.  I stepped into the dark, shutting the door behind me, though I did not allow the latch to catch.  I wanted to be able to get out quickly if it was necessary.

I briefly considered calling out to Ethaniel, to see if he would reply, but I did not believe that the other Knight had been dragged away against his will.  That would have attracted too much notice.  He had left of his own volition, and come below decks.  Why would he do that?  What secrets did the old Knight keep that he was unwilling to share with those who'd come so far with him?  I gripped my sword firmly and pressed on through the dark, listening for any sound of voices.  There was nothing.  The only sound was the quiet pad of my own feet upon the wooden floor.  I had a brief memory of the old stories about ghost ships I had read in my youth.  I shook my head, dispelling those thoughts as foolish.

The air was clear and fresh, not the stale, sickly air I would have expected of a ship crewed by those with a terrible, wasting disease.  Everything was wrong about the ship and its crew.  Ethaniel was part of it as well.  He had changed, and had been changing even more recently.  He was not the man he'd once been.  There was a tie between him and the ship, him and the captain and her strange crew.  I couldn't imagine what the connection was, but I knew it was there just the same.  I pressed on through the dark.

Footsteps sounded down the corridor from me, and I stopped in place.  Someone was coming in my direction.  My nerves began to jump, and I took a few deep, yet quiet breaths to ease the tension.  I held my position, sword at the ready.  The footsteps were soft, widely spaced.  It was a Knight.  Ethaniel?

The soft padding rounded a corner and my motion sensitive vision traced a winged outline moving through the darkness in my direction.  It was Ethaniel.  He stopped after a few more steps in my direction.

“Noble.”  He said, his voice giving me the last identification that I needed to be sure.  I did not lower my sword.

“Ethaniel.”  I replied, uncertain how he had seen me in the complete darkness below decks.  The eyes of a Knight could not see in complete darkness, not without movement to trace.  Was it the other eyes that had betrayed my position or perhaps it was those dark pits on his face?  I understood little of what they were or how they functioned.

“Do you plan on cutting me down in cold blood?”  Ethaniel's voice was calm.  He wasn't worried, and he wasn't bothered that I had discovered him somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

“What are you doing here, Ethaniel?”  I ignored his questions.  I knew they had been spoken to attempt to throw me off, to make me panic.  Inside my mind, I could feel the Fell Beast part of me pacing the hollows of my darkest thoughts.  It sensed the onset of blood.  I stifled it.

“Since when is it my responsibility to answer to your paranoia?  Will you strike an unarmed man?”  Ethaniel's answer shot back.  His reply had been angry, but his voice had not held any of that anger.  It was as though he were reciting a rehearsed reply.  He lifted his hands.

“You left us without so much as word, and stole away into the bowls of a ship allegedly carrying a crew of gravely sick men and women.  I believe that my paranoia is justified in this situation.  Besides, even unarmed you are more than a match for me.  You have experience, strength, and a repertoire of battle strategies that I cannot hope to compete with.  Now, what are you doing here?”  I asked the question again, more firmly.  Could I kill Ethaniel if it came to it?  Would I be strong enough to defeat him?  Not with one arm.  He was a better swordsman then me, and he was not burdened by the loss of a limb.  If it came to a fight, all my strength and speed would not amount to much.  At least in the close confines of the ship his wings would be of no use to him.  That did little to bolster my confidence.

“You underestimate yourself, Lowin Fenly.  Your potential is far greater than mine, even if you are maimed.  Your strength and speed are boundless, and your determination is like a mountain.”  The old Knight's reply struck me as odd.  I thought for a moment he was simply avoiding my question again, but he went on.

“If you must know, I came to speak with the captain.”  He said, and there was a certain sense of triumph in his voice.  I felt as though I'd just fallen into a trap of some sort, yet the nature of the trap was beyond me.  “I came to get charts for you and the others to study, so that you could rest assured that we are heading in the right direction.  Since my word is apparently not good enough anymore, I thought it would be advisable for you all to see for yourselves.”

I lowered the point of my sword.  It was a good explanation, even if it didn't make complete sense.  The charts would be invaluable to us, though I still did not believe the old Knight.  Would he really come uninvited into the depths of a ship full of the sick just to acquire some charts?  I didn't believe he would, unless he was certain that there was no chance of him actually getting sick.  His trip had been quick, as well.  How had he known exactly where to go?  He surely must have gotten the captain's permission before taking the charts.  How long would it take to find the captain, get permission to take the charts, and then to get the charts?  Longer than he had been gone, I reasoned.  However, I had no solid evidence that proved anything he'd said was untrue.

“This ship is dark, and quiet.  Where are the sick crew?”  I asked, not willing to let the matter rest yet.  Too many questions remained, and too much rode upon getting to our destination safely.

“The disease spreads faster in the light, so the crew stays below decks with the lights out unless they are on duty.  When we came aboard, they moved everyone to the bottom decks, to assure none of ours would be near the sickness.  Those on duty have been instructed not to socialize or come too close to you.  Their coverings are standard practice.  As I said, the light irritates their condition, so they remain completely covered unless absolutely necessary.”  Ethaniel explained.  Had he learned all of that in his short time with captain?  It seemed unlikely.  I was, however, at a loss to call him on anything else.  His explanations, while unlikely, were not impossible.

“Let us return to the others with the charts.”  I said, defeated.  I put away the sword I'd borrowed, and turned about.  The path back was dark.  Ethaniel fell in behind me without another word.  The fur along my shoulder blades stood on end.  I knew Ethaniel had not drawn a weapon, but I felt no safer for having him behind me.

He was lying.  The ship we were on was bad news.  I could feel it all the way to the center of my being.  Danger lay just below the surface of our situation.  I would need to be watchful.

Time passed uncomfortably aboard ship.  We saw nothing of the mysterious captain, and the crew avoided us as though we were the ones suffering from a plague.  A week dragged by, and then another, all the while we watched the charts to track our progress.  Whatever else the ship's crew might be, they seemed to be taking us in the right direction, if the charts were to be believed.  We crossed the border into shallow waters late the second week of travel.  The fear of the great monsters of the sea could finally come to a rest, but instead of relief, I was filled with a sense of impending doom.  I had not grown complacent because of lack of action aboard ship.  The mysteries still remained, and, if anything, I had become more agitated by the strange behavior of the ship's allegedly sick workmen.  It was two days after the crossing into shallow water that Silver had a run in with one of the crew.

“King Noble, they're Hungering!”  She yelled, as she ran with her spear at the ready across the deck of the ship.  Her words ignited a fire in me the likes of which had not burned in a long time.

“What?”  I asked, standing, and instinctually preparing myself for a fight.  I was unsure what Silver meant, but just hearing the word “Hungering” after so long set me on edge.

“I went to make use of the head, and when I stepped out of the room, I knocked into one of the crew by mistake.  He fell over, and his hood came undone.  The crew is not human, King Noble.  They're Hungering.”  Her eyes scanned the deck as though the crew might attack at any moment.  “I couldn't see all of him, but I could make out his red eyes, and that strange pale skin of theirs.  She held her spear at the ready.

“You're probably mistaken.  The Hungering would never have allowed us to sail on one of their ships, besides, they don't sail normal vessels.  They use black drakes.”  Ethaniel's voice cut in.  I ignored him.

Fury was soaking through my body, permeating to the center of my mind.  I remembered the bony shoulder I'd grabbed on my first day aboard ship, and the agile way which the crew members went about their business.  I remembered the strangely familiar, yet alien movements that I couldn't quite place.  It all seemed clear to me in that moment.  Silver was right.  The crew were Hungering. I crossed the ship, walking towards one of the deck hands that was still going about its job with complete indifference.

I grabbed the thing's hood as I drew within range, and pulled it back.  Its head was wrapped in linens, a strand going around its eyes to cover the red glow, making it nothing more than a feint shine, but as soon as the head was uncovered, there was no mistaking the creature that stood before me. The Hungering.  I expected the creature to attack, to strike out at me in some way, but it didn't do anything at all.  It kept to its task.  I stared on in horror.

I recoiled from it, the claws of my hand sharpening without any intentional willing on my part.  I was so close to striking it down, but instead I backed away.  It wasn't attacking me.  It hadn't attacked any of us and we had been aboard ship for weeks.  Though the impulse to kill burned through my veins, I would not strike down an enemy in cold blood.  Questions flooded my mind, needing an outlet.

“What in the hell is this, Ethaniel?”  I called back across the ship.  The old Knight did not reply.  I spun to face him, storming across the open deck.  “What is going on?  Why are the Hungering taking us into land?  Is there a trap waiting for us at shore?  What is your part in all of this?”  I demanded, my ire rising with every question that occurred to me.  I was certain he had played some part in the events that were transpiring.  I reached for my sword.  It wasn't there. It hadn't been there since I'd lost it to the great ocean depths.  The blade given to me by Uin Delmore was gone forever, vanished into a blackness that seemed without end.

The door leading down into the ship interior opened at the far end of the deck, and the captain stepped forth.  She moved quickly, as though she'd been alerted to what was going on.  I turned away from Ethaniel and faced her.  The Knights were all standing. Those with weapons held them at the ready.  I stepped out in front of the other Knights, placing myself between her and them.  Such a feeling of hostility radiated from the woman that my skin felt as though it were crawling under her eyes.  She started towards me.  I widened my stance subtly as she approached, and prepared myself for an attack.

“What is this?”  I demanded as she came nearer, waving my hand at the crew around me.

“We're transporting you and your men into shore.  That's what you want, isn't it?”  She answered, her voice calm, but undercurrents of hostility radiated out from her.  She kept coming closer.  I refused to step back.

“Your crew are monsters.  What are you?  You don't move like them.  What are you planning for us?”  I pressed, but I felt the situation was on the cusp of flying out of control.  The captain lunged forward, her body blurring with the speed of her motion.  I hadn't anticipated such quickness from the woman.  It took me completely by surprise.  Her hand latched onto my arm before I could even shy backwards.  Suddenly the crew of the ship were alert, moving towards my men, weapons I hadn't known they possessed, drawn.  Their hoods were pulled back, and their red eyes burned through the cloth coverings.  We were surrounded by hostile Hungering forces.

An image of Kay being dragged away by their red glowing eyes flashed through my mind, and with it came a phenomenal rush of strength.  I twisted my wrist with explosive force, breaking the hold the woman had on me and grabbing a hold of her throat, all in one darting motion.  Her hood fell back as I lifted her from the deck by her neck.  She was human in appearance, but her eyes were terrible.  I had seen such eyes before.  They were dark gray, and seemed to seep smoke from their corners.  They were the same eyes that Ethaniel had taken unto himself when he'd joined with creature known as the shadowlyn.  The woman differed, though, as she did not have any other eyes besides those gray ones.  The look of hostility in those smoking orbs was exactly as it was in Ethaniel's.  In my shock, my grip slackened, and the woman tore herself free and backed away from me.  She drew a saber from beneath her cloak.

“We're leaving.”  I said, as I began to back towards the section of the ship to which our lifeboat was bound.  “Everyone, to the lifeboat.”  The Hungering circled around, but they did not pursue.  The woman had pulled her hood back over her head as I released her.  She stood at the head of those creatures that comprised her crew, a dark force whose whim they obviously followed.

“We will still take you to shore, Lowin Fenly.  Come with us.”  Her voice had resumed its calm tones, but the anger below it gave it a subtle growl.

“We've come far enough with you.  We'll find the remainder of the way on our own.”  I said, the Knights were behind me, and I could hear them readying the rope to lower us down onto the lifeboat.

“You will die, smashed upon the rocks at the coast.  The tides of the coastal waters cannot be navigated by such a small craft.”  The female captain said, and I could hear the ire in her voice rising.

“We do not die so easily.  I don't know what you intended, but keep your ship away from us here on out.  If we cross paths again, I will tear this craft apart, plank by plank.”  I said, forcing the words to sound firm, even though a terrible chill ran down my spine.  She'd answered none of my questions, and I didn't believe that she would, even if I wanted to stay and ask them again and again.  My men, I believed, would be enough to take out her crew, and kill her as well.  She would have to be wary of my threat.  I did not believe she would pursue us any further.  I felt a tug at my sleeve.

“The others have gone, it's just us now.”  Malice's voice sounded in my ear.

I nodded, still not taking my eyes off of the woman and the Hungering crew that surrounded her.  “Go, I'll be right behind you.”  Malice's hand released my shirt, and then I heard the sounds of her quickly navigating the rope.  I grabbed on behind her, and made my way quickly down the line, only taking my eyes off of the woman and her crew when my line of vision passed below the level of the deck.  I severed the rope with my claws as we struck bottom.

“Oars, paddle hard and fast.  We all know the direction now.  Stay to the charts, we should be able to make it into shore.”  I ordered, and six of us grabbed oars.  I did not take one.  Instead, I looked at Ethaniel, who was staring at me, barely concealed hostility playing across his features.  His smoky gray eyes burned ferociously.  I wondered if the others had seen the eyes of the ship captain as I had.  They didn't seem to be paying any extra attention to Ethaniel, and that lead me to believe they had not.  I, however, could not get those dark eyes out of my mind.  The ship faded behind us, apparently having drawn to a stop.

I was leaving the enemy behind, but I had the sneaking suspicion that I had also allowed the enemy to come along with us.  He rowed with the others, seemingly as intent as them to get us away from the ship, but Ethaniel was nothing of what he seemed.  The situation was out of my control, and I wasn't entirely sure how long it had been so.

We paddled tirelessly in the direction indicated by the charts until finally, for the first time since we'd begun our seemingly endless journey, land appeared at the horizon.  It had been too long since we'd last seen dry land.  There was an undeniable giddy excitement amongst us, though Ethaniel did not seem to be affected for either good or ill.  I had not spoken to him since leaving the Hungering controlled ship.  Indeed, little had been said by any of the crew, though days had passed.  Leaving that ship had felt like defeat.  I was certain that it had been the correct choice, but getting back in the life boat had been difficult for everyone.  I was just thankful the ship had not made an attempt to follow us.  I had believed that it might, but I never saw sails on the horizon.  That my threat had worked at all on the woman and her strange crew was bewildering.

Of course, I was beginning to realize that I understood very little of what motivated those strange creatures.  I had once been told that they lived to feed and expand, but I no longer believed that.  The Hungering were driven by some purpose that I couldn't yet fathom.  What could they possibly want with Kay, and why would they allow the other Knights and me to sail upon their ship?  I looked over my shoulder at Ethaniel.  His eyes were elsewhere, apparently far away.  He had answers.   His gray, smoky eyes were part of those answers.  I needed to confront the old Knight.  When we reached land, it would be time for him to tell the truth.  I would force the point if I needed to.  I was tired of the lies and half truths.  Was he an agent of the Hungering?  If so, he would have to be dealt with.

The water became increasingly violent as we drew closer to land.  We could make out the shore, and the tree line beyond, massive mountains sprawling in the distance, but all of that faded to the tumult of the ocean.  We went from paddling for speed, to paddling just to keep our boat oriented and upright.  We drew nearer, and suddenly there were jutting rocks amidst the waves, knife like protrusions that were covered by water one minute, and exposed the next.

The ocean surged around us and I felt a heavy impact on the hull of our boat.  The sound of wood splintering followed.  I felt our craft slide down the side of a rock, and we hit the water just as it was rising back up to throw us forward again.  The impact of boat on water tossed us into the air, and it was a struggle to land back in the relatively small confines of the craft.  Without any help from us, our lifeboat was surging forward.  The tide running inward towards the coast was dragging everything afloat along with it, and we were helpless to do anything other than hold on.  Rocks scraped the bottom of our craft, but I knew it was only a matter of time until the surge ran low and we hit something that could not be passed over.  I shifted my position in the boat, trying to get a better grip on my seat.  I glanced at the others who were all doing the same.  The pretense of paddling had been discarded.  The tide was taking us into land, but whether or not we would survive being scraped over the rocks was still to be seen.

The wave upon which we were riding crashed downward, but our boat did not follow it.  We struck a rock half way through the descent and we stopped with a tremendous force.  The boat split, the water etched reef cutting into it like a knife, and suddenly we were all being tossed into the cold sea.  I hit the protrusion that had split our craft as I fell downward.  It was an abrasive, cutting shard of stone.  I felt my flesh split and tear as I was dragged down, and then back up the length of the rock as the water rose once more.  Everything was a blur.  I paddled frantically, looking for the others, but it was difficult to see them amidst the swells of water, and the churning white caps created by the dangerous rocks beneath the surface.

“Malice!”  I called out as my head cleared the surface of the water long enough to draw breath.  My heart was racing.  I was terrified, but not for my own life.  I had confidence in my body's ability to heal.  I couldn't find Malice.  The others lay forgotten as I struggled against the current to try and find my green-eyed lover.  Where was she?  Had the ocean swallowed her into its grinding maw?

In my haste to find her, I was not watching where the water swept me.  The wave I rode upon ebbed and cold stone tore into my right arm, sending a burning flash of pain through my body.  My mouth, which had been open to call out to Malice, snapped shut on my tongue and began to fill up with blood as searing pain lanced through the damaged flesh.  I spit out a mist of blood and a small chunk of flesh that had been the tip of my tongue.  The water surged hard again, tearing me off the rock it had just deposited me on, dragging me along its rough surface and taking away layers of skin as it did.  The cold, salty sea water was like liquid fire against my freshly opened wounds.  I felt myself lifting skyward, atop the crest of a great wave.  I struggled through the pain that enveloped me, trying to make some sense of the world that had fallen entirely into chaos.

The water dropped below me, and I fell with it.  I was still nearly upside down, and facing the wrong direction.  I couldn't see what I was falling towards, and I knew that was dangerous.  I fought, letting the world slow around me as I struggled to use sheer speed to gain control of the situation.  Moving faster was not helping.  The water was pulling me along its course, and I could not get my body to correct.  I hit another rock.  It was smaller than the others I'd been bashed into, and it only clipped my left side as I was descending.  Still, I felt a deep gash open up along my hip.  I knew that if I could get my legs out in front of me, I would be able to control how hard I hit the jagged sections of reef, but I could not get my body to spin in the quickly churning waters.

“You will die, smashed upon the rocks at the coast.”  The words of the woman leading the Hungering floated back to me.  Had they been a portent?  Was I doomed?  No.  I couldn't die.  I couldn't allow myself to die.  Malice needed me.  Kay needed me.  I couldn't let them down.  I fought harder.  My muscles strained against the water.  Another swell blossomed around me, lifting me back into the air.  A whirling current caught my torso and I felt my head being pulled under water.  It all appeared to be happening so slowly.  I tore at the water with my right arm, feeling the wounds on it split and open wider as I struggled.  I had to save the others.  I had to.

The water fell away beneath me.  I was completely upside down.  My legs were out of the water, and my head was being held under by a strong current.  I twisted with every bit of strength I could muster, and finally I felt myself coming around.  I turned, orienting myself so that I could see where I was going, even if my head was still below the water line.  At that very instant, a gnarled, jagged rock came up to meet me, and I struck it face first.  There was an explosion of darkness, and then the ocean and its terrible currents went away.

I found myself standing at the edge of a lake.  It stretched out before me, meeting the tree line in the distance.  There was a light wind blowing across its surface, cool and refreshing.  I took a deep breath, and could smell that a recent rain had fallen.  That scent was mixed in amidst the earthy smell of the forest.  The sky was clear, and the sun was bright above me.  I could hear the song of birds, and the sound of the grass, and the leaves of nearby trees rustling in the light breeze.

“You've come a long way.  You should sit and relax.”  A female voice, peaceful, yet gravely and strangely-accented, spoke from behind me.  I turned to face the speaker.  I was facing a large wolf with fur as green as the grass upon which she sat.  There were strands of longer fur amidst her normal length coat that looked like the occasional long strands of grass that you would see in a field.  Her eyes were a deep golden color that seemed to shine with their own light.

“Whisper of the Mist,” I intoned her name, as I recognized the female wolf that stood before me.  I had not seen her in many years.  She had died to give me the heart that still beat in my chest.  Her expression was calm, yet feral.  I felt a pang of guilt.

“Lord Lowin.”  She greeted me, tilting her nose forward for a second, in what I took to be a wolfish bow.

“Where am I?”  I asked her, for I could not remember coming to the lake in the woods, and I remembered only too well that she was dead.  I feared that I might be dead as well, though I did not want to ask that exact question.

“You're not dead.”  Whisper answered, and I could see a smile in her golden eyes.

“How did you. . .”  I began to ask, but she spoke before I could finish.

“You should understand how I know, Lowin.  Isn't it obvious?  We are the same, you and I.  I am just the echo of another part of you, Lowin Fenly of the gods of man and wolf.  As is he.”  She pointed with her nose, and for the first time I caught sight of another figure standing at the lake side.  He was a few feet away from Whisper and me, with his back turned to us, apparently looking out into the woods.  He was a hulking black figure, like a monstrous bipedal wolf-creature, with red tipped ears, and a circle of red at his single wrist, and ankles.  He was missing an arm, as I was.  I could not have forgotten that Fell Beast even had I tried, for I wore his legs, and his right arm still.  He was as dead as Whisper though, another life sacrificed to make me what I had become.

I ignored the Fell Beast, the monster that haunted me far too often.  “Why did you do it, Whisper?”  I asked the question that had been on my mind for years.  Why had Whisper given her life to me, when it was I who had lost the combat between us?  By her own people's rules, she was entitled to my heart, my strength.  She had chosen to give her own instead.

“I won, Lord Lowin, it was my right to choose the prize.”  Whisper answered without hesitation.  She had known what I was going to ask.

“Why did you give your life for me?”  She hadn't answered the question I really wanted answered, the one that still troubled me at times, even years later.  There were so many lives lost for my sake, and I questioned all of them.  I had never had a chance to ask that question of any of the others.

“Because I knew you would do what I couldn't.  I saw the truth in your eyes as we fought.  I saw your strength and determination as I came in to make the killing blow, and I knew what I had to do.  There is a fire coming, and the Kaziem will be consumed with everyone else if you can't do something to stop it.”  She answered, though it was difficult to understand her answer.  She seemed to believe I played a more important role than I did.

“Lucidil put out the fire.  He got rid of the Hungering, not I.”  I pressed, trying to understand, and fearing I never would.

“The danger is not past, Lowin.  In fact, it is closer now that it has ever been before.  You must stand and fight where others would forfeit.  Others might have been able to do what you must, but they were not given the chance.  You must stand strong.  Protect your pack, protect us all.”  Whisper of the Mist insisted in her calm, wise voice.

“I'm afraid of what I'm becoming, Whisper of the Mist.  I'm so full of rage and I just can't hold it all inside.  How can I trust myself to do what is right, with all this anger inside of me?”  I pleaded for an answer.  At that time, Whisper seemed like a pillar of wisdom.  I hoped that she would have an answer to ease the demons that had been haunting me.

“You're trying to stifle an aspect of yourself.  You shouldn't.  That doesn't weaken it, it makes it stronger.” Her golden eyes shifted to the Fell Beast.  “He is as much a part of you as am I.  If you try to shut him away, he will only fight more fiercely to get out. A man cannot stand divided against himself.  You are losing yourself, because you are denying yourself.”  Her words made sense.  I could understand what Whisper of the Mist was saying, but I was not sure what to do with that information.  How did I embrace that dark aspect of myself without letting it run out of control?

“That is a question you must answer for yourself.”  Whisper answered the query I had not spoken aloud.

I looked to the hulking black furred figure, and then back to Whisper.  I felt a pang of pressure in my chest.  I was there, and so was Whisper and the Fell Beast, but Kyeia was nowhere to be found.  Was she not another aspect of me?  After all, it was her power that bound us all together.

“Of course she's here, Lowin.”  Whisper again gave voice to answer the question I had not spoken.  She stood up and walked to the lake's edge, pushing her nose against the water so that it rippled.  “Look.”

I walked to the water hesitantly, afraid at what I might see beneath its surface.  I leaned over and peered into the water.  The face looking out at me was not my own, but Kye's.  I staggered back, and then fell to my knees and crawled back to the water's surface.  There she was again, looking back at me with the same look of wonder I knew must be on my own features.  A tear traced a line down the edge of my nose and fell into the water, sending a ripple through Kye's reflected face.

“She is always closest to you, Lowin Fenly.  You may never hear her, and you may not see her.  She is here too.”

I smiled, and the face in the water smiled back at me.  Kye's smile.  I had not seen it in so long.  I drew back from the water's edge, my heart fluttering in my chest.  Would Kye smile at me if she knew all that had happened since her death?  Would she be happy that I had been with Malice?  Would she be able to smile if she knew what I had allowed to happen to our daughter?

“She loved you.  Do you really believe that would change?”  It was Whisper's voice again.  I looked up at the wolf.  Her golden eyes were higher than mine while I was kneeling at the water's edge.  Would Kye still find something to love in me?

A howl tore through the air, a jagged, terrible sound that sent a shiver down my spine.  I turned to face the source of the cacophony of noise.  The Fell Beast was standing, now facing us.  His single hand was clutched over his chest, an expression of pain painted his face.

“HURTS!” He roared, froth flying from his mouth.  I stood and stepped back from the suddenly fearsome creature.  “WHY DOES IT HURT?!”  The beast screamed in rage, its voice barely intelligible.

Suddenly another howl sounded, this one from Whisper.  I snapped around to face her as she finished her soulful cry into the heavens.  Her eyes were full of pain, not physical, but emotional anguish.

“I'm so sorry, Lord Lowin.  I'm so very sorry.”  She said.

The world shifted and melted, and suddenly the woods were gone, and it was just me, standing alone in a great gray void.  I seemed to fall backwards out of my body, and I could see myself standing, right hand clutched over my chest.  I was falling away from myself.  I saw tears streaming from my eyes, yet I looked like such a fearsome beast in that instant.  Behind me, I saw a woman standing, pale hair shining in the void, her hand on my shoulder.  She had no eyes.

“Kye!”  I tried to call out, but I had no voice, for I was not in my body.  I fell through the gray and. . .

I sat bolt upright, pain ripping through my body, originating from the center of my right hand.  My fist was closed around something hard and I had to force my hand to open, straining the muscles to their limits, though I wasn't sure what force I was struggling against.  My hand opened.  In my palm rested a small blue glowing crystal.  A binding crystal.  I dropped it and jumped backwards to my feet, as if the crystal was a monster that might strike out at me.  My feet caught in the sand, for I was on a beach, and I fell backwards.  Terrible pain roared through my body, and I felt my left shoulder explode with searing agony.  I fell to the ground screaming.  I couldn't hold the pain inside of me.

Bone shot from the socket of my left shoulder, erupting forth as though it were a sword piercing my body.  Muscle and nerves broke from the joint and began to encircle the newly formed bone, followed by a layer of skin, and then a silky white fur.  I watched it in disbelief, barely able to keep my eyes on it through the pain that caused them to stream with tears.  I screamed again, though I didn't realize it immediately, as the terrible anguish was too excruciating.  Piece by piece my left arm rebuilt itself, first bone, then muscle, then flesh and fur, until my entire arm was grown back, coated in smooth white fur and banded at the wrist in a circle of black.  There were other figures all around me, standing in a wide circle, familiar faces, though I didn't see any of them clearly in that moment.  I knew them, but I only registered them peripherally.

The pain from my arm subsided as the limb finished regenerating, and I forced myself to my feet, the new arm forgotten in the tide of rage that was overwhelming me.  A single figure stood before me, wings tucked over his shoulders.  He bent over and picked up the blue crystal I had dropped.  Ethaniel.

“What have you done?!”  I demanded, my voice ripping through my throat with such ferocity that I could feel it reverberating in the air around me.  Those blurry shapes around me stepped back, as though physically struck by my voice.  I knew the truth.  I knew what had happened.  Ethaniel had just bound me to a second Uliona.  He had always wanted to do so.  He'd finally found his chance.

“I've made you whole again.”  He answered calmly.

I flashed across the space between Ethaniel and me.  The world slowed, and I passed through it with ease, cutting through the thick resistance of the air as though it were barely affecting me.  My fur churned at the press of the wind, and the pressure sank through my flesh to the bones beneath, but I felt unstoppable.  I could feel power flowing into my body.  I could feel wounds stitching closed faster than ever before, and a terrible vigor filling every muscle contained inside my rebuilt frame.  I grabbed the other Knight by his throat and lifted him into the air. His eyes barely had time to go wide as I did all of this.  I had been fast before, but with new energy flowing into me, I was even faster.  I let the world resume its normal pace around me.

“How dare you bind me to another life!”  My hand was tightening, my claws growing sharper.

Ethaniel did not struggle against me.  He was motionless in my grip, his four eyes trained upon me with a mix of hostility and ambition.  It was the ambition that confused me the most.  There was no fear in him.  His lack of fear only made me angrier.  I threw him to the ground.  His massive body felt surprisingly light.  He was laying face down in the sand at the side of the ocean.  I knelt upon his back, grabbing the hair on his head with my right hand and turning it to the side so his face was not buried.

“Who have you killed to make me stronger, Ethaniel?  Whose life is forfeit for this?  Do I know them?  Do you know them?  Have you seen the face of the man or woman you've sentenced to death on my behalf?”  I feared that if I stopped speaking I might just kill the old Knight.  My anger was becoming a beat all its own.  The Fell Beast roared within me, and I struggled to stifle it.  The beast would not be quieted.

“Does it matter who she is?”  Ethaniel said, his words strained.  “You were gravely wounded, and weakened by the ordeal coming into shore.  You've been unconscious for hours.  I did what was necessary to save my king.  If you think that is such a crime then . . .”

“Be quiet!”  I yelled in a fury, terribly aware of the life of the woman that was draining into me.  I did not know her, but I could not help but picture Kye.  He'd known my wishes.  He'd known I would have rather died than be bonded again, yet he'd done it anyway.  That knowledge above all else incited the fire that burned in my heart.  I felt strength coursing into my body, and wondered whose life was dwindling at the other end of the bond?  Some poor Uliona woman was destined to fade until her life ran out as I became something far more dangerous than I already was.  Not even her eyes would be saved when I was done with her.  She would fade to nothingness, lost forever from the world.  The howling beast within me broke free from its bonds, yet I did not lose my consciousness.

“I'm tired of your excuses.  I'm tired of your lies.”  I said, my voice strangely quiet, even to my own ears.  I reached my new left hand up to the base of one of Ethaniel's wings and took a firm hold.  “I don't care that you think you've done the right thing.  I don't care.”  I pulled violently, flexing my newly strengthened muscles with all the power I could muster.  There was a terrible, tearing, popping sound as flesh, bone, and cartilage tore and ripped free in my hand.  Ethaniel screamed.  It was a sound of utmost despair unlike anything I'd ever heard before.  It was certainly not a sound I'd ever expected to hear from the leader of the Knights of Ethan.  The Fell Beast reveled within, and I reached to try and quiet it.  I struggled to suppress its monstrous hunger, ignoring the advice given to me in my dream just moments before.  It would not be bound.  It wasn't finished.

There were gasps of shock and fear from those gathered around, but none stepped forward.  I tossed the chuck of useless wing aside, and placed my now bloody left hand against Ethaniel's neck, keeping him pinned.  The arm felt strange.  It was mine, but it felt new, and untried.  I'd been without the use of that limb for so long, that the sensation of touch in those fingers seemed alien.  I removed my right hand from the old Knight's hair and grabbed a hold of the other wing.  The white fur of the new limb contrasted with the black of the old, making it seem like it wasn't even my own hands doing the bloody work before me.

“Lowin, no.  You can't do this to me I'm . . .” Ethaniel spoke quickly, but I ignored his words.  My muscles flexed and flesh and tendons tore with a ripping sound quite unlike anything that can be described.  If one has never heard a living creature being physically torn to pieces, then there is no parallel of description possible.  Ethaniel's scream shook the air with the power of “the voice.”  I barely noticed that he was using that particular skill.  I heard sobbing, and the sounds of footfalls running away.  Malice probably.  It was good that she was alive, and well enough to be upset.  I should have been horrified at what I was doing, and I was on some level, but my heart was numb.  I tossed the other wing aside.  Blood flowed down Ethaniel's back, soaking into the fabric of my tattered pants, and into my shirt.  The fur of my arms was sticky with it, my white arm was red.

“Tell me the truth.”  I demanded, my voice sounded far away.  “Tell me what is going on, and what your part has been in all of it.”  There was no reply.  I looked down and saw that Ethaniel's eyes were closed.  All four eyes were shut and sweat beaded on his forehead.  He had passed out.  I could still feel the pulse of his heart through my hand on his neck.  The rage fled, leaving me empty and frightened.

I stood up and looked at those around me.  Tower, Silver, Telistera.  I saw Snow laying a few feet away, her eyes closed.  She was still, but my eyes detected the slight movement of her chest as it rose and fell.  She was sleeping, deeply.  Probably injured at the same time that I was.  Telistera was gashed and beaten.  That held true of Silver and Tower as well.  The faces watching me were scraped and tired, and frozen in shock.

“Did you know he had a binding crystal?”  I asked the three facing me.  They shook their heads negatively as a group.

“He said he was going to watch over you while Malice got some sleep, and then a few minutes later you got up.  We had no idea. . .”  It was Silver who spoke up.  She had a long gash that had already begun to heal along one side of her face.  Her clothes were bloody and torn.  Her hair, that peculiar strip down the center of her head, was disheveled, hanging in every which direction.  She looked scared.

I nodded.  “Alright, I want someone to keep an eye on him.  When he wakes up, I want him watched.  He's not to go anywhere.  I'm not done speaking to him yet.”  I looked to Tower.  “How is Snow?”  At my question, the look of fear fled from the tall Knight's eyes.  It was replaced by concern.

“She's injured badly. She hasn't regained consciousness since we made it to shore.”  He spoke calmly, if not quietly, but it was obvious that he was worried about the white-furred Knight.

“See to her.  I'm sure she will recover.  She is strong, and too stubborn to die on a beach in her sleep.”  I told the other Knight.  I wasn't just putting on a strong face for Tower.  I believed that Snow would recover so long as she was still breathing.  She was a strong woman, and a fast healer.

I scanned the area around me.  “Which way did Malice go?”  I asked, when I could not find clear sign of her passing.  I needed to go to her.

“She went off into the trees.”  Telistera pointed.  “If you're going to go after her, you should at least clean the blood off of your hands first.”  The silver haired and eyed woman did not look happy.  Her eyes were awash with an accusing disappointment.  My loss of control had injured her faith in me.  She did not look well, either.  Her hair seemed to have lost some of its sheen, and her wounds did not look like they were healing as fast as the others.  Worry crept into the hollow left by my anger.  My friends, no, my travel companions, were suffering for me.  I would have liked to call them friends, but my actions would not allow that.  One did not treat their friends as I treated those around me.

I looked down at my blood caked hands, and then walked to the shore line to rinse off in the ocean.  The water was cold, but it did the job.  The blood stains in my clothes did not come out.  I spent a few minutes working on getting the worst of the mess off of me, but eventually I had to give up the task as hopeless.  I stood up and walked into the forest to follow after Malice.  Telistera, Silver and Tower watched me leave, their eyes as troubled as my heart.

The forest I entered was familiar and yet not.  I recognized some of the plants and trees, but many others were of varieties I had never encountered before, or were only similar.  Even the insect sounds of the woods were different, and the scent subtly so as well.  I felt as though I were walking through some terrible dream.  I looked down at my hands.  One was white, one was black.  The white fur was still pink tinged from my assault on Ethaniel.  I flexed my left hand.  White.  It was as though the limb were a ghost of the arm it had replaced.  I closed my left fist.  A life was being spent for that flesh.

It took me some time to find Malice.  When I did come across her, she was leaning against a tree at the side of swiftly running creek.  Her eyes were looking outward and away.  There were no tears in them.  There was no smile on her face, only a hard, humorless expression.  She turned her head as I approached, and then pushed herself away from the tree until she was standing before me.  I drew closer.  There was a tension in the air that I did not like.  She looked less injured than the others on shore.  I was thankful for that.

I saw her motion coming the moment she initiated it, but I was so stunned that I did not even think to react.  Her fist struck hard on my left cheek, and I fell backwards, landing with a heavy thud on my back some few feet behind where I had been standing.  I felt my jaw crack and realign itself, the healing happening almost at the instant of damage.

“That was terrible.  What you did to Ethaniel was wrong.  What he did was an evil thing, and he should have been punished, but not like that.  You went too far, Lowin.”  Malice's words were strained.

I pushed myself back to my feet.  “I know.”  I whispered, as I dusted myself off.  There was little else I could say.  I had been wrong in the way I handled the situation.  I let myself be ruled by my anger, driven by the beast inside of me, and justice had not been properly served.    I was playing the part of the monster again, a role I only too easily took.

“I love you, Lowin, but you scare me sometimes.”  She turned her back to me.

“I scare myself, Laouna.”  I replied.  “I don't understand how to control the anger inside of me.  When it wants to break free, it overwhelms me.  I feel as though I'm watching as my body does whatever it wants.  Ethaniel has bound me again, and I'm growing stronger.  I don't know what that will do to my control.  I don't think anyone knows.  No one has ever been bound twice.”

“You're a good person, Lowin.  I know you can control whatever is making you do these things.  I wouldn't feel this way about you if I believed you were really a monster.”  Malice's voice was tinged with sadness, most the anger having gone.  The red haired warrior turned back to me.

“I have another life on my conscience.  Another Uliona woman is dying now.  Ethaniel forced the binding, but it is I who will swallow up her life.”  I felt crushed inside as I said the words.  “I don't want to live through this again.”

“You'll live on for Kaylien, and for me.”  Malice said, her expression softening.  She moved closer to me, her eyes going over my face.  She reached up a hand and I flinched for a second, but she only passed her fingers gently over my skin.  “Your scars are gone.”  Her gaze went distant.  “How will we remember Wisp now. . .”  A tear fell from the corner of Malice's right eye, and traced a single line down her smooth, pale skin.

I reached up and touched my own face, looking for the familiar scar lines that I had worn for years, since Wisp had cut them into my face when we'd fought while I was still in training at Fell Rock.  The scars were entirely gone.  A profound sadness filled me.  Though those scars had been given in anger, every time I had looked in a mirror, I had always seen them and thought of the good times I'd spent with Wisp and my daughter.  Wisp had been too good for the fate that had befallen her.  Another realization struck me.

“You remember Wisp?”  I asked, incredulous.  Malice had not mentioned her since her coma.

Malice nodded once.  “I think of her face, and I get sad.  I don't recall much, but sometimes I would picture her when I saw your scars.”

“I'm glad you remember her.”  I smiled as I spoke those words.  “She always thought of you like a big sister.  I'm glad I'm not the only one who carries her still.  She was a good woman.”  Silence descended.

“You won't do anything like that again, will you?”  Malice asked, after we'd stood quietly, a breath's width apart.  I knew then that I was forgiven, and I wondered if finding her forgiveness should have been so easy.  Malice loved me, and perhaps that was her greatest flaw.  She would forgive me anything.

I shook my head, hoping that it was true.  “No, I will not do anything like that again.”

She put her arms around me, and I returned the gesture.  For the first time in years I held Malice in two arms.  If only that second arm had not come at such a terrible price.  Would I think of that life trickling away, eventually to be lost entirely, every time I held Malice with my new white arm?

Ethaniel was awake when I returned to the beach with Malice in tow.  I hadn't been certain he would recover so quickly, but it was a relief to see that he was at least awake and coherent.  He was sitting up.  A fire had been built, and he was resting near it, Telistera not far behind him.  Snow was still laying quietly, Tower at her side, a vigilant sentinel.  I wondered if he'd had time to rest at all since reaching shore.  Silver was at the water's edge, staring out over the sea from which we'd come.  All attention turned to me as I drew near the fire and Ethaniel.

His gaze locked on mine.  There was no anger in his black eyes, but the gray eyes were, as always, alight with their own inner malice.  Those gray smoking orbs were the key to everything.  They had changed Ethaniel from the brave, stalwart leader of the Knights of Ethan, into whatever it was that he had become.  I wanted to know exactly what that was.  I wanted to know why that woman aboard the ship with the Hungering, had the same eyes as he did.  I intended to have my answers.  I sat down, keeping the light of the fire between us.

“What are you?”  I asked, across the roar of the flames.

“You know, it took me years to track down the monster I bonded to take those wings, and that says nothing of the effort I put into fighting and killing the beast.  That battle was the closest I'd come to defeat since becoming a Knight . . . until today.  I knew you would be powerful, but I had no idea the extent of that power.  You impress me.”  Ethaniel said, his voice as collected as ever.

“What are those gray eyes, Ethaniel?”  I asked again, doing my best to keep my anger restrained.  He was playing his usual games, avoiding my questions.

“The eyes were painful, but having those wings torn away was something else entirely.  A cut wouldn't have hurt as much, but that terrible pressure, and then the exploding agony as you tore the flesh away from me . . . that was something I won't soon forget.”  He smiled as he finished speaking, a strange expression that sat unnaturally upon his face.  Was it madness that lay beneath the surface of his calm black eyes?  There was something trapped in there, but I could not tell what it was.

“Why did that woman on the ship have the same eyes as you?”  I asked another question, ignoring his teasing.  The others around the camp had been watching closely, but as I asked that question, I could feel their attention becoming more pointed.  Until that moment, they hadn't known what I'd seen.  “Why did that woman in charge of the Hungering have the same eyes that you have, Ethaniel?  I've never seen another creature like the one you took those cursed things from.  What is the shadowlyn?  What is your connection to it, to her, and to the Hungering?  What have you become?”

Ethaniel's smile fell from his face instantly, not passing to shock, but merely melting like the illusion that it had been.  His gray eyes smoldered.  There was hostility there, anger, but there was a clever cunning as well.  I did not fear the anger, but I feared that cruel intelligence.

“I have been nothing if not loyal to a fault.  I have stood at your side, fought at your side, through every situation.  I have gone with you when others abandoned you, and stood between you and death on many occasions.  You repay me by accusing me of betraying you, and tearing the wings from my back.   In doing so, you not only take the flesh, but you take the freedom of flight from me, and that is something that I will miss dearly for the rest of my time.  I owe you nothing, Lowin Fenly.  I owe you nothing, King Noble.  Yet still I remain, because I will fight at your side until the bitter end.  That is the course of action I have chosen to take.  I will help you find your daughter, no matter what you inflict upon me.  I will see you to your goal.”  Ethaniel's words felt like a dagger struck into my heart.  I did not doubt that they had been aimed to have just such an effect.  He was playing on my sense of loyalty.

“You're not answering my questions.”  I said, my anger cooled by my own shame.  His words rang with just enough truth that they cut away at my facade of calm, and etched away at my righteous anger.

“I'm not going to answer your questions.  What will you do, Lowin?  Perhaps you will rip my arms away next?  My legs?”  He reached up and grabbed one of the long horns that protruded from his head.  “These?  They were hard won, and harder still to join with.  I suppose having them torn away would be a relief, though.  Doorways would no longer pose such a difficulty.  So, Lowin, what will you take away from me next?”  He stood, spreading his arms out wide.  “Don't be shy.  Show the others what a powerful man you have become.”  He was playing to the audience around him.

“Say what you will, Ethaniel.  We both know that you are hiding a dangerous truth.  You say you serve me, but I know you serve something else.  I was wrong to take your wings as I did.  I regret doing it.  However, you are a danger to all of us, and you have betrayed me more deeply than any other I have ever known.”  I held up my white furred arm and clenched the fist.

“You cursed someone to death so that I might have this arm back.  I don't believe for a minute you did it because you were worried about me.  You bound me to another life, that I will have no choice but to slowly eat away.  I will grow stronger, while the woman you've tied me to will grow weaker.  Every day that I feel more powerful, she will die a little more.  I don't even know her face.  I can't even thank her for what she has given me.  She will die alone and unremembered because of your actions.

“You are a disease dressed in a Knight's armor.  I don't know what you intend for us, but I swear if I find that you've hurt anyone here, I will cut you down so swiftly that you won't have time to realize you are doomed.”  The words all flowed from me in a rush, a torrent of things that I needed to say.

Ethaniel did not speak again, and uneasy silence settled over our camp.  I'd had the last words, but he'd defeated me.  I would get no information from him, no matter how hard I pressed.  Further violence would only serve to alienate the others, and he knew it.  The answers were slipping away from me again.  I was forced to act without all the information I needed to make a sound judgment.  I turned to Telistera.  She still did not look well, but I was counting on her.

“You know how to find the Hungering?”  I asked, though I already knew the answer to that question.

She nodded. “I know where they came from.  I can take you there, more, I can tell you how to get there.”  Her face was grim.  “I may not make it all the way, so it will be important for you to know how to finish the journey without me.”

I nodded.  I knew what she meant.  It was not something I wanted to think about, but Telistera was nearing the end of her life.  That was why she looked so run down, and wasn't healing as quickly as normal.  Those of the silver eye, her people's chosen warriors, only lived for twenty years at best, and she was near the end of those years.

“What do you mean you may not make it?”  Malice's voice was wrought with concern.  It sent a rush of pain through my chest.  “You've healed from worse injuries before.  I'm sure you'll be fine.  You just need some time.”

Telistera shook her head. “For one of my kind, I have lived a long time.  I wanted to come back here, to my home, before my life had run its course.  I've done that now.  I will stay with you as long as I can, but my end is soon upon me.  I can feel it rushing towards me.  My powers are waning.”

“. . . but, I don't want you to die.”  Malice said, and for the first time in a while, she sounded more like Laouna than Malice.  I could hear the innocent inflection in her voice, and that innocence was suffering.

“It's alright, Laouna.  We all die eventually, and I have lived a good life.  I am not sad about it, and you shouldn't be either.”  The silver-eyed woman insisted.  I clenched my teeth and forced my own emotions under control.  She had been an invaluable ally for a long time.  I did not want her to die either.  I knew, however, that the time was coming.  I would remain strong.  Perhaps that would give strength to the others.  To lose a companion in combat was hard, but to lose one to the ides of time, somehow that was harder still.

Malice did not speak again, but she drew her cloak about her, and pulled the hood low over her face.  I moved to her side, and put an arm around her, looking out over the beaten remainder of the thousands that had come with me from Kreo.  Only six were left.  I wondered what had happened to all the others from the ship.  Had they made it to shore yet?  Would they ever?  The black cloaks, and their young, what had become of them?

Snow lay still upon the ground, Tower sitting at her side like a loyal dog.  I hoped that she would wake soon.  The longer she slept, the greater were my concerns for her.  Tower held her hand in his own, his eyes falling back onto the white-furred warrior's face as the camp settled and became quiet.  What if she died?  I forced that thought out of mind.  It was far too bleak a consideration to hold onto.

“Everyone get some rest.  I'll keep watch for the night.  I'm not tired.”  There were protests, but in the end I convinced the others to sleep.  Even Ethaniel laid down, though whether or not he actually slept I didn't know, and didn't care.  I stayed by Laouna, and kept my eyes on the world around us.  We were in Hungering country.  It was time for us to be more cautious.  I hadn't lied to the others, either. I was not tired.  In fact, I felt as energized as ever.  I couldn't have slept if I'd tried to.  I didn't know it then, but I would never need to sleep again.

Snow rose from sleep four hours after the others had lain down.  She looked tired, and still had bruises and cuts, but otherwise she seemed well.  When she woke up, she stealthily extricated herself from Tower, who slept closely at her side and made her way across the camp to me.  She froze in her tracks when her eyes fell over the new limb stretching from my left shoulder.  She crept forward, as though she thought I might be a monster taken the form of a friend.

Her voice was pitched so low that my sensitive hearing was only just able to pick it up.

“How did this happen?”  She asked, gesturing towards my arm.  I motioned off to the side of the camp, indicating we should create some distance between us and the others so as not to disturb them.  I stood up and walked across the beach towards the rolling ocean.  When I stood at the very cusp of the water, so that every surging wave licked at my feet, and the sound of the water was all that filled my ears, I knew I had come far enough.  I told Snow of everything that had happened the day before, not leaving out any of the details for my own sake.  I was not proud of what had transpired, but I would not hide the truth either.

Snow was silent for a time after I'd retold my story.  She opened her mouth, as though she were on the verge of saying something, and then closed it again.  The silence was heavy, a burden that seemed to rest squarely upon my shoulders.  It was a weight I'd brought upon myself, so I bore it stoically.  I spoke just to add something to the void left by my confession.

“Tower was worried about you.  He stayed by your side the entire time you were out.”  I spoke as casually as possible.  Snow seemed as eager as I to let the subject change.

She smiled wanly.  “He's a sweet kid.  He has always looked out for me, like a younger brother sticking up for his older sister.”

That wasn't how he saw it, I knew.  I didn't think young Tower would be happy to hear Snow refer to him as a brother, but it was not my place to interfere between the two of them.  Tower would need to make himself clear to Snow, or be forever trapped in the image of the kind little brother.

“He's a good man.”  I said, emphasizing the world “man” as I spoke it, though not so much that it would seem strange.  I could not speak on his behalf, but I would speak the truth as I saw it.  Tower was indeed a good man.  He was strong, intelligent, and dependable.  I was glad to have him fighting beside me.  If Snow would allow a place in her heart to open, she might find that he was willing and able to fill it.

Snow stepped closer to me, so that our shoulders were almost touching.  “It's a really lovely night.”  She said, looking up at the sky.  The stars shone clearly overhead, a great mat of absolute darkness, broken only by points of vivid sparkling light, spread atop the world.

I suddenly found myself uncomfortable, standing at the beach's edge next to Snow.  I sensed that she was looking for something from me that I was in no position to give her.  What she needed from me could never be hers.  I had given it once to Kye, once again to Malice, and there was nothing left for Snow.  Since her betrayal, that truth was set all the firmer.  I still felt that stab of a trust broken when I looked at her.

“You should get some rest.  You were injured quite badly on your way into shore, and we'll be moving out early, possibly before the dawn.”  I said, trying to turn aside Snow's attention.

She took a step closer, and then her right hand reached out and took my left hand.  She smiled as she squeezed it softly in her own grasp.

“We match now.”  She said, and indeed our fur did have the same pure white color.  I drew my hand away from her.

“Go, get some rest.”  I pointed back towards the camp where the others still lay.  Snow drew her outstretched hand back as though it had been burnt, clutching it to her chest.  Her smile was gone.  She nodded her head, and turned to return to camp.

I watched her walk way.  We had always agreed that what lay between us was nothing more than friendship.  I wondered when it had become more to her.  I felt the sting of guilt.  I had let it come to that point.  I should never have gone to her on those lonely nights.  If she suffered, it was because of me.  That was yet another burden to add to the many others I would need to carry.  Which of us, I wondered, had most deeply betrayed the other?

“Give your sword to Tower.”  I told Ethaniel, as we all prepared to move out.  I had not taken the weapon away from him the day before, but I had decided to do so during the long night.  The others had slept for nearly eight hours, an unusually long time for the group of Knights.  I had not interfered.  They'd needed the rest.  It was our first night back on dry land in nearly two years, and everyone was beat from a combination of healing serious injuries, and paddling for days without end to make it to shore.

Ethaniel, to my surprise, did not immediately complain.  He unfastened the weapon and handed it to Tower, who quickly put the sword about his waist.  It was only after the transfer was complete that the four-eyed Knight decided to speak.

“I am just as dangerous without the sword, King Noble.”  He said.  “I give you the weapon, though, as a show of good faith.  I am still loyal to this cause.”  His voice was calm and even.

“Then I see we don't have a problem.”  I replied curtly, ignoring the old Knight's attempt to rile me.  Only Ethaniel and I did not have weapons.  Ethaniel, I felt, was safer without a sword.  With the terrifying power coursing through my body, I did not feel that I needed to carry a weapon.  Still, I missed my long sword, and not just because it had been a good weapon.  I had carried it as a reminder of the people I fought to protect, for it had originally been given to me by Uin Delmor, a man who'd fought and died to avenge his family.  Snow had the weapon rebuilt, retaining the core of the original blade, and had given it to me as a present when we left home.  That gave it sentimental value.  I would never have it back.  The ocean had taken it as its own, and there was no recovering what the ocean claimed for itself.

“That peak,” Telistera explained as we began to walk.  She was pointing to a particularly jagged mountain in the distance, one that stood slightly above the others around it.  It was difficult to judge actual travel distance, since I couldn't be certain how tall the mountain we were seeing really was.  “there is a cave at the base that leads down into the Hungering tunnels.  There are entrances all along the mountain range, but that is the one which I am most familiar with.  If you keep walking in that direction, keeping the very point of the mountain in front of you, you should be able to find the cave opening on your own.”

I tried to shrug off the feeling of sadness that was attempting to take hold as Telistera gave directions as though she would not be there to finish the journey.

“Thank you, Telistera.  Do you know how long it will take us to get there from here?”  I asked, eager to know how much time remained before I might rejoin my daughter.  It was difficult to believe that I was so close to being with Kay again.  Of course, I was assuming that nothing had befallen her on her trip across the sea with the Hungering, or since.  If the Hungering had hurt her. . .  That thought trailed away.  What would I do if they had hurt Kaylien?  I didn't know.  I held firm to the belief that I would find her well, because they had given their word.  What if that proved not to be true?  I wasn't sure what I would do then.  Vengeance, certainly, but it would be a hollow and hopeless battle.

“Three weeks if we keep a strong pace.  We don't want to completely deplete our energy.  We still do not know what lies ahead of us.”  Telistera said, and I could sense that she was attempting to give me advice.

I nodded.  “Three weeks.  We'll maintain a good pace, but I'll try not to run us into the ground.”  I reiterated, letting her know I acknowledged her concern.  It was far too tempting to just begin running and not stop.  I didn't know my limits anymore.  I felt as though none remained, as if I could run forever without resting.  Somehow, the immense feeling of power inside of me did little but make me feel estranged from the others.  Were they growing distant, or was I pulling away from them?

Telistera left me, taking the lead, though it wasn't strictly necessary.   As she left, Malice came up beside me, falling into pace at my side.  Her presence was always comforting.

“You're worried.”  She said, after a time.

“I am.  The closer we get to Kay, the more I feel that something terrible is waiting for us.  I. . .”  I let the words trail off because a realization was forming in my mind.  It wasn't an epiphany born from thin air, but a slow realization pieced together from everything that had occurred over the past few years.

“What, Lowin?”  Malice pressed.

“I think the Hungering are waiting for me.  I'm beginning to believe that they took Kaylien just so that I would come here.”  As I spoke the revelation aloud, I understood just how absurd it sounded.  How self-centered of me to believe that an entire race of creatures had orchestrated events just to draw me in.  I expected Malice to laugh, but she did not.

“What do you think they want with you?”  She asked, and from her tone of voice, I could tell that she was taking my suspicion seriously.  Knowing that Malice was willing to listen, and hear me out, even when what I suggested seemed strange, filled me with warmth.  I didn't deserve someone like her in my life.

“I don't know what they want, and I could be entirely wrong.  Maybe there is something about Kay that they want.  Maybe I wasn't part of their considerations at all.”  I said, doubting myself.  It was the ship with the strange woman and the Hungering that had first sent my mind spiraling in these new directions.  Why hadn't they done more to keep us aboard?  Why had they let us aboard at all, and why had they been taking us into shore?

“They never attacked us.  They were taking us exactly where we wanted to go.”  Malice voice echoed my thoughts, as though she were able to see inside my mind.  “That's what has you upset, right?”

I smiled half-heartedly.  Her guess was uncanny, but it did little to comfort me that she saw the connection as well.  If they had taken Kay just to attract my notice, didn't that make it my fault that Kay was gone?  I shook my head to dislodge that thought.  It couldn't be me.  I didn't have anything that the Hungering would want.  Besides, they had already come to me, why would they need me to cross the ocean?  If they wanted something, they could have taken it while they were invading.  They'd had plenty of chances.

“It doesn't matter what they want.  We're going to get Kay, and we're going to put an end to the Hungering.”  Malice attempted to comfort me, her voice brimming with confidence.

I looked at her, surprised by her assertion.  My goal had always been to find my daughter and bring her to safety, but I had never considered what that would mean for the Hungering.  Certainly I was in no position to destroy them all on my own.  Could they be reasoned with?  They spoke our language, so certainly that implied that it was possible.  The question was what motivated them?  What could I offer them that would end the threat they posed?  Stopping the Hungering was a daunting prospect.  Did I have a responsibility to do more than save my daughter?

I did.  So many lives had been spent to cross the sea that it would be a terrible slight to those who had fought for me to simply take Kay and leave.  That is all I wanted to do, but I knew at that moment that I could not get away so easily.  I owed it to everyone to do more than serve my own selfish purposes.  How could I ever look my daughter in the eyes if I let thousands of men die, and did nothing to honor those lost lives?

I had come so far, but it was only at that moment that I accepted that my fate involved more than saving my daughter.  I would have to save everyone, or die in the attempt.  The Hungering must be stopped.

“Lowin?”  Malice's voice swept across my thoughts.  “Are you alright?”

I shrugged.  “Yes, I just realized that we still have a long way to go.”

Malice leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.  “We've come this far.  There is no stopping us now.”

I hoped she was right.

A great blue stone circle stood before me.  Its opening was large enough to pass a meager house through.  It stood amidst a clearing in the woods, with no other sign of man's presence around it.  I thought of it as a circle, but it appeared as little more than an arch, because the bottom edge of the circle was buried in a rock footer, made of the same blue stone.  I wasn't sure why I believed it to be a circle, and not merely a rock arch, but I had a vague sense that the structure was somehow vaster than what was immediately apparent.  The stone was blue, and smooth, so smooth I almost did not believe it was stone at all.  As I gazed upon it, I felt as though I were being drawn in its direction.

Why would such a structure be standing all alone in the center the woods?  It looked like it should be the portal to a city, or an important piece of statuary, yet there was nothing else around it.  I noted that no plants had grown over it, and the smooth blue stone was unmarred by the passing of time.  Was it a fresh structure, perhaps something built by the Hungering as they routed Telistera's people?  Were those creatures even capable of such an artistic endeavor?

“You mustn't go near it.”  Telistera voice cut through my thoughts.  “Those rings are cursed.”

“Cursed?”  I asked, stopping in my tracks.  I had been moving towards the ring, though I didn't exactly remember when I had begun to do so.  I studied it more intensely, without moving any nearer.  I could make out no discernible sign of threat.  The rock was smooth, and the ring seemed solid.  I had heard of curses, and I believed in magic, but I did not think that word applied to the structure that stood before us.

“My village wasn't near a ruin like this, but I've heard that some villages used them as a form of punishment.  Criminals, those who'd been caught committing truly terrible deeds, would be forced to walk beneath the arch.  I'm not sure what happened to them, but I know it was not pleasant.  We call them ghost rings.  They say you can hear the voices of the dead if you stand too close.”  I could see that Telistera was honestly troubled by the strange artifact.  Still, it was difficult to pull my attention away.  I took another step in the direction of the blue circle.

“She's right. Don't get any closer to the ring, Noble.  It would be dangerous.”  Ethaniel spoke up, and I stopped again, turning to face the old Knight.  How would he know anything about the artifacts of the Telistera's land?

“What do you know of this ring?”  I asked him, my curiosity overwhelming my common sense.  I'd received two warnings.  Under other circumstances, I might have heeded the advice of Telistera without hesitation.  The ring, though, called to me.

“Do you remember when Lucidil attacked Fell Rock?”  Ethaniel asked, and I sensed, for once, that I was actually going to get an answer to one of my questions.  With the first Knight, answers were rare indeed.

I nodded for I had not forgotten that horror.  Lucidil had used an ancient and dangerous magic to transport his entire army across a great distance instantly, so that they could arrive by surprise at the fortress of the Knights of Ethan.  His attack had been incredibly effective.  He decimated half the remaining Knights in one move, and left the kingdom in a state of complete confusion.  He'd also broken one of the great magic prohibitions, and incidentally drawn a creature of darkness from the place between worlds.  That demon had killed Lucidil's army as well as the Knights, and had finally been stopped at a great expense of life.

“He used a traveler's gate to transport his men to the battlefield.  His gate was a temporary structure; it crumpled after his men retreated back through it.  Men have long lost the ability to master the energies and techniques necessary to use such power efficiently.  This ring though," Ethaniel explained, pointing at the strange stone structure.  “is from a time when man had mastered magic, and brought the greatest forces of the world under their own control.  This is an original traveler's gate.  It has stood here for thousands of years, unscathed by time.  They are nearly indestructible.”

I looked at the stone ring with a new respect.  “So it is dangerous because we might draw another creature like the lantern eye out if we were to pass through it?”  I asked.

“That is the least of it.  No, it's really dangerous because almost none of these go anywhere, anymore.  The other side of this one is likely gone.  If you were to step through that ring, you would get stuck between places, forever.  That which goes into a broken traveler's gate, does not come out.”  The old Knight was looking at the gate, his eyes distant.

“It doesn't look like it goes anywhere at all.”  I said, my own eyes scanning the circle.  The far side of the gate looked just like the other side of the clearing.  There wasn't so much as a ripple of distortion across the opening to indicate that what I was seeing was anything other than a circle of strange rock.  “Maybe it's just dead?”

“No.”  Ethaniel shook his head.  “They never die.  So long as the gate stands, it keeps functioning.”

“If they're so dangerous, why were they not completely destroyed?”  I pressed, still not sure I bought the old Knight's story.  I maintained little trust in his words.  Besides, where was he getting his information from?  I had read many books in my times, but I knew nothing of what he was speaking.  I could tell by the confused expression worn by Telistera that she was equally at a loss.  If any of us should have known more about the artifact, it should have been her, a native of the land.

“They can't be destroyed.  At least, not by any means that we could muster.”  Ethaniel replied.

“Then what happened to the other end?  Why are the traveler's gates broken?”  I thought I had found a flaw in his logic.  Certainly if we couldn't break the gates, no other could.

“The ancients were far more powerful than are we.”  Was Ethaniel's answer, and something about it sent a chill up my spine.  “Look," Ethaniel walked in the direction of the gate, but off to the side.  He stopped when he was standing a few feet away from it on the left side, but level with the edge of the stone.  “look here.”  He pointed at the gate.  I came forward hesitantly.

“I don't think you should get any closer.”  Telistera protested as I moved forward.

“Lowin, don't.”  Laouna said, but I shook my head, curiosity had long been a failing of mine.  I would not be satisfied until I had seen all there was to see.

“I'll be careful.”  I said, as I drew next to Ethaniel.  I had not feared the ring before, but Ethaniel's story, true or not, had given me a hefty respect for it.

“Look across the ring, from the side.  What do you see?”  He instructed, and I did as he asked.

At first, all I saw was stone.  I could still feel that tugging at my chest, as though the stone were trying to draw me closer, but I resisted that pulling firmly.  I was about to ask Ethaniel what he was trying to show me, when I saw it.  I had to get my head at just the right angle, but if I looked flat across the surface of the gate, from the side, I could see a shimmering black curtain at the opening edge of the stone.  I watched it for a moment, as it shifted and churned.  The strange, rippling blackness filled my heart with a terrible sense of despair.  I had to look away.

“A working gate would look similar, but it would be white.  The blackness means that this gate is dead.   That which goes in, will not come out.”  Ethaniel said, moving back away from the gate. I followed him, doing my best to avoid looking as afraid as I suddenly felt.

Even though I could still feel the compulsion of the gate, I no longer had any desire to draw nearer.  I had seen enough.  That blackness had been terrifying.  It had been as though it were trying to reach into me.  I felt shaken.

“We'll cut a wide path around any further stone circles.”  I told the others, an informal order that clearly needed not be made.  “It would be wiser not to take any unnecessary risks.”  There were no protests from my travel companions.

We set out again, back on path, but it was a long time before I felt the dark pressure from the ring leave me.  It was as though it kept watching me, expectantly, ready to devour me and my travel companions.  I felt as though I had just denied a monster the feast it desired.

We drew closer to the mountains with every day of travel.  We ran day and night, only stopping when it was necessary for the others to recuperate from the hard pace.  I did not grow tired, no matter how far I ran.  I could run for two days at a hard pace and I felt only mild fatigue in my muscles that would quickly flee as we came to a stop.  My strength and energy seemed to be increasing with every step I took nearer the mountains.  I knew that, in truth, it wasn't the nearness to the mountains that was giving me strength, but the life of a Uliona woman, somewhere far across the sea.  I tried not to dwell on that fact.  The process, once began, was irreversible.  Ethaniel had doomed another innocent, and I would have to accept that burden upon myself, since I would reap the benefits.  To take the power and feel no guilt at all would be a crime unto itself.

Our first week of travel had gone the fastest, but Telistera was beginning to slow down.  She could still run for days at a time, but her pace was beginning to fall off.  I knew what it meant, and I could tell by the sadness in Malice's eyes that she was only too aware of the truth as well.  All of us knew what was happening.  Only Ethaniel seemed completely unperturbed.  His cold indifference raised my ire, but I had done my best not to come to any further confrontations with the old Knight.  He had begun to act strangely.  There was a certain excited exuberance about him that worried me.  He should have had nothing to be excited about, certainly the rest of us were more troubled than eager.

“We should stop for a time.”  I heard Malice's voice, soft and close, and I drew myself out of my thoughts.  “The others are tired.  We could use four or five hours of rest.”  She finished.

I looked at the others as I drew to a stop.  They looked worn.  It had been four days since we'd taken more than a brief break.  I'd promised Telistera that I would not push everyone too hard, and I had been on the verge of doing just that.  I looked at Malice's face, and I could see the fatigue written across her features.  Had she not come to me, I probably would have run for another day without even thinking about it.

“Of course, you're right.  We should have stopped hours ago.”  I admitted, realizing that I was slowly losing touch with the others.  It was far too easy to get lost in my thoughts and just go on forever.  My travel companions dropped their packs in place and fell to the ground.  We were running across hills with only a light covering of brush and sparse patches of forest, and just about anywhere was a good place to rest.  The hill we'd just crested gave us a nice view of the surrounding area.  It was a good place to keep watch.

I was not certain keeping watch was entirely necessary.  We had not seen so much as a single sign of the Hungering since arriving.  The day before, we had passed through a large open clearing that Telistera assured us had once been a village of her people, but all that remained was an open field of grass.  There were no buildings, no wreckage, and no signs of war.  Animals had freely entered the clearing, wary of us, but apparently unworried about any other threat.  I had feared we would be fighting constantly from the moment we made land, but we had received no resistance at all.  There were no signs of the Hungering, and there were no signs of Telistera's people.  We had passed three different places that should have once had villages, but all of them had been like the one we'd seen on the previous day.

Had Telistera been one to joke, I might have believed that she was attempting to play a strange trick on us.  However, I knew the silver-eyed woman well enough to know that she was not joking, and I didn't believe she was intentionally deceiving us either.  For some reason, all signs of her people had been erased from the land, and nothing had been placed in their absence.  I felt as though we walked through an undiscovered world.

“I'll keep watch for the night.”  I announced, not feeling much like sleeping.  Whether it was only my new energy, or a combination of that and my anticipation of finding Kay, I could not be certain.

“Lowin, you can't.  You haven't slept since we arrived here.  I can take the first watch.  I feel good enough to stay up a few hours.  You get some sleep.”  Laouna said, speaking up at me from where she sat on the ground, leaning against her pack.

“I'm fine.”  I insisted.  I didn't believe I could sleep even if I wanted to.  All I really wanted to do was keep running.  My body burned with unquenchable energy, my mind writhed in eagerness at obtaining my long sought goal.

“We don't even need a guard.”  Tower said.  “There is nothing here.  We haven't seen any sign of danger since we arrived.  I don't know what lies ahead, but I don't think there is anything other than the wildlife here to trouble us.”

“I really am not tired.  I'll keep an eye on things while the rest of you sleep.  I'm sure Tower is right.  We could probably all sleep without worry.  This place is quiet, but I'll keep watch just to be safe.”  I stated again.  Tower shrugged and laid down a few feet from where Snow had sat down.  Ethaniel was already sprawled across the grass, his pack under his head.  Telistera had lain on the other side of him, furthest from the camp.

“I'll stay up with you for a bit, at least.  You shouldn't have to watch alone every time we make camp.”  Malice said, exasperated that the others had given up on trying to convince me so quickly.  They needed their rest, and I knew that Malice needed hers as well.  I also knew that my beautiful green-eyed warrior had her mind set on a course of action, and I would not be convincing her otherwise any time soon.

“As you like.”  I acquiesced with a small smile.  Fighting it was useless, and I was not really so eager to deny her company.  My growing strength was leaving me feeling detached from the others.  It was only Malice that kept me grounded.

We sat for a time in quiet, watching the valleys around our hilltop with no real worry that we would be attacked.  Malice leaned against me, her head upon my shoulder.  Under the spread of the stars above, the world truly seemed at peace.  It was impossible to imagine that once the Hungering had passed through the area, massed in the thousands.  On that night, beneath those stars, it seemed as if the entire world consisted of only Malice and me.  The others were all but forgotten.

I felt the warmth at my side shift, and looked over to see Malice standing up.  She reached a clawed hand down to me.  “Let's go for a walk.”  She said quietly.  I took her hand, though I didn't need it, and let her draw me back to my feet.  She was strong, powerfully so.  It was easy to forget that when one's eyes were so quickly drawn to her beauty.  We walked beneath the stars, traveling down the hill and through the valley that surrounded it.

“You should get some rest.”  I said to her, after we'd walked for nearly an hour.  She was in front of me, leading our way, but she stopped as I spoke, and turned to face me.  Her green eyes were bright, even in the dim light of the stars.  I could see the rise and fall of her ample chest, highlighted by my motion sensitive sight.  It was only at that moment that I realized why she had wanted to go for a walk.  Behind her eyes was a naked lust, and yearning that was hard to miss.  She didn't speak as she reached up and unfastened her cloak, letting it fall to the ground.  She knelt upon it as she pulled free the draw strings of her shirt and drew open the front of the fabric.

She removed her shirt, and set to work on her pants, unfastening her sword belt and removing the fabric with graceful precision.  I could feel my excitement rising.  It had been too long since we'd lain together.  My desire for her pounded through my veins like a hammer against an anvil.  I set about unfettering myself of my own clothes, as I watched her undress.  Her body was as beautiful as it had ever been.

Her Fell Beast legs blended into her silky white hips with artistic perfection, a contrast of terrible power, and terrifying beauty that defied comparison.  She drew her legs together as she cast away her pants, hiding that soft tuft of hair that concealed the mysteries of woman.  Her breasts were still tightly bound and wrapped, but even so constrained, they were not insignificant to behold.  I went to her then.

With careful haste I unfastened the knot holding back her ample bust.  As it loosed, she spilled forth from it, a fountain of femininity from which no man could possibly turn.  I cast aside her bindings, and revealed her to the stars in full glory, though not for long, as I was soon upon her, my mouth, my hands, my every exposed inch of flesh savoring in the touch of her skin against mine.  My hands searched her for the places that gave her greatest fire, and her hands returned the tribute.  We were a warming inferno upon a cold winter day, we were unending joy amidst a world of loss and regret, we were two parts made one whole.

Her hands upon my flesh were soon not enough to sate the hunger I carried for her body.  I pushed her to her back, and parted her so that I might, in so doing, draw us closer together.  The moment of connection was sublime, and every moment thereafter was greater still.  I gave into her time and time again, and we lay together in passion until all desire was temporarily sated.

We dressed in the aftermath of our lust, and began our walk back to camp.  Malice stumbled as we went, and I held on to her.  Our love making had been vigorous, and she had been exhausted before we started.  I lifted her into my arms, her weight so light that it seemed almost nonexistent.  She resisted but for a second, and then laid her head upon my shoulder and drifted fast to sleep.  When we reached camp, I nestled her into the grass carefully, and sat beside her.

I watched the starlight as it shimmered against her clear and pale face.  Her lips were turned up in the barest smile as she drifted through her dreams.  No nightmares plagued her that night.  . . . my Malice, my Laouna, my love.

I patrolled the hilltop, not because I was worried about attack, but because I couldn't force myself to sit still any longer.  The woods were not entirely quiet at night, but without the sounds of footfalls, the singing of the birds, and the voices of my companions, the night seemed endlessly silent.  The others appeared to be sleeping soundly, so I was careful not to wake them in my pacing.  I reminded myself that we would make better time once they were fully recharged and ready to run again.  It was unfair of me to ask any more of them than they had already given.

A motion in the valley below caught my eyes and I stopped in my tracks.  I had seen various animals throughout the night, so I wasn't entirely surprised, but still I stopped to get a clearer view.  The stars were bright overhead, and my strong vision was able to discern a great deal of detail from the minimal amount of light available.  Still, it was my ability to track motion that first caught my attention.  I was surprised by what I saw.

A human figure, female, attired in what looked like a flowing black dress, was walking through the forest below.  She had long hair, and from her slender features, I guessed her to be young.  Seeing her amidst the trees sparked a terrible yearning in my heart.  She was familiar.  Something about her was undeniably familiar.  Before I knew what I was doing, I found myself running down the hill towards the fleeting figure.  I reached the valley in seconds, and fell in amidst the trees grouped there, searching for the woman that had been far easier to see from atop the hill.  I moved in the direction I'd last seen her, carefully, slowly so as not startle or alarm whoever it was.

“Hello?”  I called out, thinking I must be close.

I saw the glimmering light trail that my Uliona eyes recognized as movement, the edge of a dress disappearing behind a tree ahead of me.  I dashed forward.  I restrained myself from using the full speed at my disposal.  I didn't want to terrify whoever it was.  A young woman alone in the woods at night probably would not be happy to have a man as terrifying as I appear in front of her out of nowhere.

“I mean you no harm.  I just want to talk to you.”  I tried to reassure the other in the woods as I moved forward.  The outline of a young women stepped out from the trees even further ahead of where I'd just seen movement before.  She stopped and turned to me.

“Milady, if I could have a word.  My friends and I have. . .”  She turned and stepped back into the trees, and I found myself running forward again.  In the woods, where the stars did not shine so brightly, I could not make out any details of her features.  Why did she seem so familiar to me?  Who was she, and how was she keeping ahead of me so easily?  I ran forward, passing between the trees with ease.  I was mindful of the distance from camp that I was allowing to form, but I could not make myself turn away from the black dressed girl.

I reached the tree by which she'd been standing, but there was no sign of her.  I looked at the ground but could see not so much as a single footprint or snapped twig.  How she had passed through the area without leaving any sign at all, was beyond me.  In the woods, one simply could not move without leaving something, especially not if one was moving hurriedly.  To stay ahead of me, she would have to be running.

I pressed forward, desperately trying to follow someone I could not see, and then she was there again, just ahead of me once more, watching from between two trees.  I could reach her in a dozen long strides if I pushed myself, but I stopped, and held my hands up to show that I was unarmed.  Of course, my monstrous claws, I realized belatedly, probably looked more fierce than any sword or bow.

“Please, don't run.  We can talk from here.  I will get no closer.  I just want to know who you are, and how you got out here all alone.”  I pleaded with the girl in the black dress.  I didn't know what good that would do, but I was certain it couldn't hurt my cause.  She was agile, and moved through the woods as though she were part of them.  I might never catch her if she kept running, that was if I didn't use the advantages I had.

She ducked back behind a tree, and this time I did not restrain myself.  Desperation clenched at me as I feared that I would never catch up with the elusive girl.  I was wrapped in the void of speed, scouring forward through the woods in an instant, slipping through the pounding resistance of the wind with little trouble.  I took only the twelve steps necessary to reach the place she had just been, before I stopped myself.  She wasn't there. I had arrived less than a second after she'd ducked back behind the tree, but there was no one there.  I stood alone amidst the foliage, in the darkness created by the canopy above.  A chill ran down my spine.

I felt a pressure on my shoulder and jumped, spinning around.  The girl was there, just behind me, with human eyes, only lit with purple light like that which shone from my own.  I knew her then, beyond any doubt, I knew that face.  Her hair was pale and long, like her mother's had been, and her skin had that same flawless white purity, almost translucent.  She was no longer the little girl she'd been when I'd last seen her.  She'd grown and was now something between a girl and a woman, partially filling out her strange black lace dress, but still with the awkward innocence of youth.  As I took in all of her features, I was struck by the pain of lost time.

“Kaylien . . .” I lifted a hand and reached out to her.  I wanted so desperately to hold my daughter, and there she was.

Her eyes filled with tears, distorting the beautiful purple they held.  “I remember. . .”  She said, and then she vanished.

It was as though the wind struck her and carried her away.  She just distorted with the breeze, and then faded as though she had been a creature of naught but smoke and light.  My heart wept agony, and I crumpled to my knees.

“Kay!”  I called, crawling to the place where she had stood just a moment before.  Nothing.  I couldn't feel anything.  The air was no warmer there.  The ground was untrod.  There was no sign that she had ever been there.  Was I dreaming?  No, I'd had many dreams over the years, and I could tell the difference.  I turned in place, looking all around me, searching for some sign that Kay was hidden somewhere nearby, but I saw nothing.  She was gone, and every trace that she had ever been was gone with her.  I searched the woods, combing back and forth, but she did not appear again.

Broken and with a heavy heart, I began the trek back towards the hill on which we'd made our camp.  In that moment where she had stood just beyond my reach, I had felt so very close to her.  In a way, I still did.  I felt as though she had somehow touched my heart, as if I was still connected to her.  I wasn't sure what to make of my experience in the woods, but I could not deny that something had happened.  I wondered if I should tell the others, or if they would think that I was losing what was left my mind.  Their confidence in me was already fading, I knew.  My outbursts and violent behavior were not helping that.

I would tell Malice, but I wasn't sure about the others.  Maybe once I'd told Malice, she would have some insight into what I should do.  She had a way of seeing things that I could not.

A woman's scream of pain tore through the night air.  I leapt into motion, following the direction the sound had come from, centering on it with my enhanced hearing.  There was no follow up sound, but I didn't need another one.  I knew which direction to run.  I dashed forward, using my enhanced speed and strength to carry me safely through the underbrush.  The voice had been all too familiar.  It had sounded like Telistera.

The sound had not come from the direction of the camp, and had been far closer to me than it should have been.  What was Telistera doing out in the woods?  I drove myself onward, Kay not forgotten, but placed away until I had time to discuss all that had happened with Malice.  Telistera needed my help, and I would not let myself be distracted by phantoms in the night.  I would find Kay, but I could not let what had happened distract me.  Others still depended upon me.

“Noble!”  A voice yelled, coming from the same direction as had the scream before.

“Lowin, where are you?!”  Malice's voice called, also coming from the same place, not far ahead.  I broke through the brush of the forest and came out into a small, grassy clearing.  I came to a stop.  The scene before me was terrible.

Hungering bodies littered the ground, ten or more.  Tower, Snow, Silver, and Malice stood, swords drawn, also in the clearing, though I noted none of their weapons glistened with blood.  Their eyes fell upon me as I broke the tree line, but in truth I only barely noticed them.  I came into the clearing only a few feet from the fallen form of Telistera.  The woman's body lay torn from neck to waist, her insides sprawled across the grass.  Her hair was no longer silver.  It had faded to a dull black, stained red in places by her own blood, and her eyes, transfixed open, were a shade of brown with the empty gaze of the dead.  A few feet away from her, my eyes fixed on another horror.

Ethaniel lay in a pool of quickly expanding blood, Telistera's lance protruding from his torso, near his heart.  He was still alive, blood sputtering from between his lips as he thrashed about on the ground.  As I watched, darkness seemed to pour from the top of his head, as if those gray smoky eyes of his were suddenly dripping out all of the vile void they'd contained.  I reached for a sword that wasn't there, and took an involuntary step backwards.  The others were doing the same, though they had swords, and held them at the ready.  All eyes were now on Ethaniel and whatever it was that was seeping from him.

The smoke began to coalesce, forming into the vague shape of a man-like-creature, though black, and flowing, skeletal in appearance.  Its eyes turned on us, and I recognized them as the eyes that Ethaniel had worn for so many years.  I realized in that moment that I was looking upon the shadowlyn in its true form.  The demon, a creature that should have been dead, was pulling itself out of Ethaniel's body as the man lay on the ground, bleeding out.

The shadowlyn stared at us all, its dark eyes piercing like barbed arrows, and not one of us moved to do anything.  The scene before us was too unreal, too horrifying, for us to react in any way other than stunned silence.  In a flash the dark thing spun about and vanished, slipping back into the woods and out of our line of sight.  I was prepared to chase after it, but Ethaniel's voice stopped me.

“Lowin, by all that you love in the world, Lowin, please, come here quickly.”  The old Knight's voice was weak, shaky, but insistent.  I wasn't sure what I wanted to do.  Telistera lay dead, killed by either the claws of Ethaniel, or the claws of the Hungering, and the shadowlyn, a creature I felt was inescapably tied to the events that had transpired, was getting away.  The other Knights seemed as confused as I.

I don't know why I did it, but I walked over to the old Knight.  I believe it was his voice that compelled me, the desperate tone of a man who needed to be heard one more time.  Looking at him, I knew that he would not be recovering from the wound Telistera inflicted.  His heart was pierced.  If not for the lance plugging the wound, he would have died already.  He was wrecked; his once proud features were caked in blood, sweat, and dirt.  I knelt at his side.  The dark eyes on his forehead were gone, and when I looked upon him, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I saw the glint of blue in his black eyes.  I saw in him the fatherly figure I had first seen at Fell Rock so many years before.  Lying before me in a pool of his own blood was the lost Ethaniel.

“Lowin. . .”  He reached out to me. His bloody hand was clutched around something.  I held my own hand out and he unlocked his grasp and dropped a glowing blue crystal into my palm.  I was about to jump back, and yell at the dying man in anger, but he grabbed my wrist and held firm.  I was still angry, and disgusted that he would bring forth that hated crystal again, but I held my place.  It would have been easy enough to tear my hand from his grip if I'd wanted to.

“Listen, don't have long . . . so much to say.”  He sputtered the words, blood forming in frothy puddles at the corners of his mouth.  “I've done so much wrong. . . The shadowlyn drove me.  At first I was in control, but it all slipped away from me.”  He said, and tears formed in his eyes.  He blinked them away, and I saw his resolve firming.  His breathing was ragged.

“Must keep the crystal, don't throw it away.  The only way you can save her, Lowin.  They wanted it back . . . were going to . . .” He coughed and blood misted into the air.  “They were going to take it back, Telistera found us.”  Despair swept over his face again.  “I killed her, Lowin, I can never be forgiven. I've killed so many, everyone who knew about us. . .”  His words trailed off as more frothy blood filled his mouth.  “I went back and killed them.  There will be no more Knights . . . terrible things.  I've done terrible. . .”  His face contorted in pain, and he grew even paler than he had been before.

I was confused.  He was saying so much, and it didn't all make sense to me at the time.  “Who am I trying to save, Ethaniel?”  I asked, trying to press for more information.

The Knights had gathered around.  We all stood transfixed in confusion, horror, and sadness.  Ethaniel's eyes locked on mine, and his face filled with torment. “You must cut a hole into the heart of a strong Knight . . . pierce the crystal into the still beating flesh.”  He spoke in bursts, his words coming between convulsions of pain.  The old Knight's body shook violently, and I thought for a minute he was going to die, but his grip on my wrist tightened.  “Pierce the heart.  It will break the binding, kills the Knight who does it, but breaks the binding.  Must be a Knight. . . The only way . . . knowledge is forbidden.  It's my only secret . . . my only . . .  I've betrayed you all so many times.”  He smiled wanly.  “I kept that secret though . . . that one secret.”

His eyes fixed on mine, his grip tightened.  “I'm such a monster, Lowin.  We cast you into the fire, and drew you back, to make you strong but. . . I think I'm going to die.”  He whispered the last phrase, and the light faded from his eyes.  His head fell backwards, and Ethaniel was no more.  The first of the Knights was gone in a moment so fast, and so shocking, that it didn't even seem real.

His words immediately struck a chord in my memory.  Cast the vessel into the fire, draw it free, cast it in once more.  This is how we make it strong. Those words had once been spoken to me by a dying Hungering soldier.  Ethaniel's words had echoed them too closely.  What did they mean?  What had Ethaniel been trying to tell me in the end?

We stood amidst a field of death.  The Hungering and our two companions lay broken and ruined.  I didn't know what to make of Ethaniel's final words, but obviously they had been important to him.  I held the blue crystal in my palm, and replayed his words in my head.  Was it possible to break my tie to the Uliona woman by piercing my own heart with the blue crystal I held in my hand?  Could I give back the life I was taking?  It would mean my own life, if Ethaniel's words were true.

A resolution was forming in my mind.  Once I'd gotten Kay back safely, I would free the Uliona from her bond, and give her back the life I'd been taking from her.  I would get Kay back first, but once that was done, I would do what was necessary. Ethaniel had said it would kill me, but in the end, I did not truly deserve to live as I was.  I was no longer human.  I had become a monster, and was growing more so every day.  Maybe in redeeming one life, I could leave a legacy worth remembering.  I felt a hand on my shoulder, and noticed that Snow was at my side.  How long had she been there?  I hadn't noticed her moving so close.  She stepped away as I stood up from Ethaniel's corpse.

I took the blue glowing crystal and stowed it in my pack.  The other Knights stood in silence, and I knew they were waiting for me to say something, to make some decision regarding what had just happened.  I wasn't sure what I could do or say to help them cope with all that had transpired.  I was not prepared to handle all that had occurred myself.

“Let us take care of our fallen companions.”  I proclaimed aloud, but in my head I added ". . . again."  It seemed that we buried too many dead on this journey.  I walked back to Telistera and looked at the woman who had lived such a short life.  She almost didn't look like the same person.  Her time had been close to finished, but I did not believe she'd deserved to die as she had, killed by one of her own companions.  Ethaniel had been a slave to the shadowlyn, but that hardly made it any better.  What was the shadowlyn?

I felt a hand on my arm.  I began to shy away, thinking it was Snow again, but it was Malice this time.

“Are you alright?”  She asked.  There were tears hiding behind her eyes, though I could see she was holding them back.  Her eyes seemed brighter than normal, as though they were almost burning with their own light.  Was it only the tears held back, I wondered?

I shook my head. “No.  I don't think I am.”

We buried our dead.

“What will we do now?”  Silver asked as we stood at the foot of the two marked graves we'd created.  The headstones were local rock, roughly etched with the names of our fallen companions.  It was strange to think that the legendary Ethaniel, leader of the Knights of Ethan, who had lived for hundreds of years, would be buried in the middle of nowhere, below a poorly constructed headstone.  Of course, Telistera had been a hero to her people as well, and she received no better a burial.  It pained me to leave them both in such a sorry state, but there was little else we could do without spending significantly more time then we had available to us working on nicer accommodations.  In the end, I knew the dead did not care.

“We will keep doing what we've been doing.  Our mission has not changed.  We must rescue Kaylien and stop the Hungering from posing a threat to the rest of the world.”  That was the first time I'd ever spoken the second part aloud.  To that point I'd always claimed to be on a mission to free my daughter, but now I had admitted that there was much more to the tasks ahead of us.  We would need to destroy the Hungering.  It would be pointless to save Kay only to have her killed when the Hungering returned.  After all, once all was done, I wouldn't be around to protect her anymore.  Malice would have to take over that responsibility, but I would do my best to ease the burden.

“What about the blue crystal?”  Snow spoke up, and as I took my eyes away from the graves to meet hers, I saw the same question resting in the eyes of the other Knights.  They all looked concerned.

“We heard what Ethaniel said, Noble, and you did not throw the crystal away.  What do you intend to do once we have settled matters with the Hungering?”  Silver asked.  “We have served you well.  You have an obligation to tell us.”

I looked to Malice.  She was not speaking, but I could see the worry behind her eyes.  I had not discussed anything with her yet.  She knew me though, and she must have known what I was thinking.

“I intend to do what is right.”  I said.  I did not want to have the conversation being forced on me.  I had intended to tell no one of my intentions before it was time to carry them out.  I didn't want to spread that burden.

“. . . and what is right?”  Snow asked.  Her voice was strangely intense.  “You didn't choose to take anyone's life, Lowin.  Why should you die for them?  It is a cruel world, but haven't you suffered enough?”

I shook my head.  “It's not that simple.  Do you think I'd make this decision lightly?  I have to live with the guilt of that woman's life if I do not give it back, and it would only be worse now that I know I can stop her from dying.”  My reasons were selfish.  I didn't want any more innocent blood on my hands.  “I am a warrior, Snow, and I have lived a full life.  I have loved, and brought a child into this world.  I have murdered, and risen to the level of king.  How could I, who have done so much, deny another the chance to have their own experiences?  What kind of monster would I be to live on knowing that I could have saved an innocent?”

Snow did not answer, and I swept my eyes across those of the others.  I could see the barely held back tears in Malice's eyes, but I was afraid to let my own eyes linger there.  Seeing her only served to remind me of how badly I wanted to live.  It seemed I had been fighting constantly since I'd joined the Knights of Ethan, and all I really wanted was to spend time with the people I loved.  That would not be an option.  I could feel the binding process strengthening by the hour.  For some reason, perhaps because it was the second time I'd been bound, the process seemed to be moving more quickly than it had before.  A Uliona woman was dying somewhere across the ocean, and I was growing stronger.

“What about Kay, what about Laouna, what about. . .”  Snow spoke up again, but her words trailed off.  What about who?  Whose name had been on the edge of her tongue?  What about me?  Had she been about to ask that?  Her words cut deeply, even if she didn't finish the thought.  I worried about Kay and Malice.  I did not want to leave them alone, but what other choice did I have?  I was in a position to give an innocent woman back her life.  What if that woman had been Kyeia?  What if that woman was someone else's Kyeia?  I could not deny her the chance to live and love as I had.

I shook my head.  “Now is not the time to talk about this.  We've lost more companions on our road.  We should be remembering them now.  We have a great distance yet to travel, and there is still a great deal of danger ahead of us.  The Hungering know we're coming, and they haven't yet stood in our way.  That means that we are walking into a situation they've prepared for us.  That is what we should be worried about next.”  I was eager to change the subject.  I didn't want to think so far ahead.  I still had time left.  I would find Kay, and I would hold my daughter once before I must face my destiny.  I thought I was prepared for that.

“We're another week out from the mountains.”  Silver said, her voice subdued.  She was allowing the subject to change, and I was thankful for that.  “We should be able to make better time from here on in.”  She didn't add “without Telistera.”  It was the truth behind her statement, but it went without saying.  She had been slowing us down towards the end of her life, but none of us would have ever said anything to her.  She'd fought with us too long, and too hard.  She'd been an excellent warrior, and a vital part of all that had transpired.

As I gave one final look at her headstone, I realized just how much I would miss the silver-eyed woman.  She'd been amazing.  Even weakened, she'd fought and defeated Ethaniel.  I was fortunate to have had her at my side for so long.  If nothing else, I was glad that she was able to return to her homeland to rest.  I knew that it had been important to her.

After a few more minutes, we gathered our gear and made to leave.  Of ten thousand, five, including myself, remained.

Malice came to me as the others were resting.  We'd been traveling for five days straight, and had reached the base of the mountains, though we had not yet found the caves.  I had decided it was best to let the others rest, for once we found the entrance to the cave system, it was difficult to say when we would next have an opportunity to sleep.  I still had not slept since Ethaniel had given me the binding crystal, and I wasn't tired.  I greeted Malice with a small smile, but that faltered when I saw that she looked agitated.

“Lowin, I'm bleeding.”  I nearly jumped up from where I was sitting but she held out a calming hand.  “I'm not injured its . . .”  She looked back over her shoulder at the others in the camp before sitting down closer to me, so she could speak more quietly.  I didn't think it was too great an issue, as the others looked as though they'd fallen asleep.  “It's a woman's blood.”

I was confused.  “But female Knights don't. . .”

She nodded.  “I know.  I've been told.  I talked to Snow about it, and she says there is no doubt.  It started two days ago, and it hasn't stopped.  There is pain, but it's not that bad.  I started feeling strange after we were together last time, and then I began to bleed, a little at first, and then more.  It's slowed now.  I don't know what to do.  Snow said I shouldn't worry, but I don't know how this can be possible.  I'm scared, Lowin.”

I put my arms around her shoulders and drew her close to me.  I wasn't sure what to say to comfort her.  All female Knights were robbed of the parts of their inner anatomy necessary for breeding.  It was a terrible cruelty, but one that had been deemed necessary.  The Knights had been afraid that pregnancy would weaken their stock.  I did not agree.  In fact, I found myself strangely happy.  I kissed Laouna's cheek.

“I'm happy.”  I told her.  She pulled back from me, her green eyes locking on mine.  I could tell she was trying to decide whether or not I was being honest with her.  “It means you're whole again.”  I added.  Other than her memories, she was more a whole woman than she had been in two hundred years.  I could have pretended that I didn't know why the changes had happened, but I suspected the truth.  My bond with Malice, sealed by our physical intimacy, was making her stronger as I was growing stronger.  That was why the color had come back to her eyes in the first place, and that was why her body was healing the ravages wrought upon it by the Knights.  The body remembered what it was at its strongest, its most healthy, and hers was restoring that.  At least, that is what I suspected.

“If you're happy, then I think I am too.”  She said, and her face lit in a smile.  I kissed her again, our lips touching in serene bliss.

We made love then.  It was not a beautiful romantic thing, but a quick, intimate exchange of passion and lust, handled quietly, and with as little show as possible since our companions slept only a few feet away.  Malice fell asleep in my arms, but I kept my eyes open and watchful, the mountains looming overhead.  I could feel time slipping away from me.  Would I ever have another night like that one with Malice, I wondered?  My future hovered above me like a black shadow.  I held Malice tighter.

The cave stood open before us, a gaping black maw that lead deep into the interior of the mountain.  All light seemed to vanish not far from its opening.  There were other cave entrances around, small, not large enough to move a group of people through easily, but that large entrance, I knew, was the main path.  It had taken us two days after reaching the mountains just to find the entrance, but our persistence had paid off.  Upon first seeing the ancient cave, I was immediately reminded of Telistera's story told to me years before.  For the first time the reality of the situation washed over me.  We stood at the base of the Rakaash mountains, in the homelands of the Tett.  Orthisius and Reamis had gone into the very same cave we stood before, and had saved their people, for a time.  They were characters of legend for Telistera's people.  We were about to follow their trail, and crawl into the depths of the world.

Of course, there was one distinct difference with us.  We were not fighting off hordes of the Hungering, despite the fact that they knew we were coming.  It was a difference that I felt held some major importance.  It was almost as though the Hungering were inviting us in.  I did not like that thought.  Surely we posed as much a threat as did Reamis and Orthisius, so why were the Hungering not interfering with us?  Was it because they had Kay?  Perhaps they were so confident in their stance because they did not believe that we could do anything while they still held my daughter.

I felt a tugging in my chest, as though I were being drawn downwards.  It was as if someone had tied a rope to my insides and was subtly pulling it from within the darkness that waited before me.  I felt that so long as I followed that pulling, I would not get lost.  Where, though, would I find myself?  What was tugging on my string?  Was I following some sense of Kay's presence down into the earth, or was it the Hungering who drew me downward?  I didn't know, but I couldn't deny the pull.  I took my first step into the cave, and heard the others fall in behind me.

“Do we know where we're going from here?”  Tower asked.  I looked at the tall Knight.  He stood steadfast, not far from Snow's left shoulder.  It seemed to me that any time I looked to him that was where I found the young Knight.  He was brave, and strong, but he had not yet told Snow of his feelings.  We were on the verge of descending into a place from which we might never rise, and I wondered whether he would ever get the chance.

“No one but the Hungering know these caves, but I think I can guide us well enough.  I can feel something calling me from down there.  I think if I follow that, we'll find where we're intended to go.”  I tried to explain in such a way that it would comfort the others, but I could tell by the expressions that met me, I had failed.

“What if that feeling is leading us into a trap?”  Silver asked.

“I think we've already been lead into a trap.”  I answered.  “Everything we've done for years has been pulling us into this snare, and now the only thing to do is to go to its center and see what happens.”  Ethaniel had long been under the control of the shadowlyn, and whatever purpose had driven that creature had driven the old Knight as well.  Ethaniel had brought me where he wanted me, and I had gone along with him, thinking that it was the best course of action we could take.  I was too far into the trap to turn around.

“It is not easy to walk calmly into death.”  Silver said quietly.

“If the Hungering wanted us dead, couldn't they have killed us by now?”  It was a simple question, but a poignant one.  There were too many of them for us to fight.  If they'd wanted to murder us, they could have overwhelmed our paltry number.  What was it that they wanted?

“This whole situation worries me.”  Snow said.  She stood with one hand on her sword hilt, her eyes piercing the darkness ahead of us.  “What will we do if we get down there and find out they've done something terrible to Kay?  Are you prepared for something like that, Lowin?”  Her words stung, but I could see that she wasn't asking to inflict hurt.

I looked to Malice.  I had told her of my encounter in the woods as we ran, and while she had not been sure what to make of it, she had believed it was important.  She'd told me to not tell the others for the time, and I had agreed it would probably be for the best.  That experience in the woods had reignited my sense of purpose.  I believed that Kay was still alive, and that she was somewhere not far away.  I wanted to tell the others that I was confident we would find my daughter alive and well, but even if I tried to explain my vision in the woods to them, it would only leave them confused and doubting my sanity.

“I am prepared for whatever may come.”  I answered finally.  I gazed from face to face of the companions that still stood with me.  I needed to give them one final chance to escape what was most likely a terrible death.  I feared to give them that opportunity.  I feared they would accept my offer, and leave.  Somehow, I still managed to speak the necessary words.  “I won't ask you to come any further if you don't want to.  We know the Hungering are below, possibly numbered in the millions.  Those who go into these caves with me are risking death.  I can't assure you that there will be any gain for the risk.  As Silver said, it is not easy to walk calmly into death.  That is what I'm asking of you.”

“I'll not let you go into the darkness alone.”  Malice said, speaking as soon as my words finished.

“I'm going with you.”  Snow's voice was sharp.  There was underlying edge to her tone that I could not make out.

“I go where my friends go.”  Tower said, stepping nearer Snow.  I wasn't so certain he would have come without her, but I admired his courage anyway.

“I've come this far already.  It would be a pity to turn back now.”  Silver said, smiling.  Her strange strip of hair hung to the left side, covering part of her face.  She was not what many would call pretty, but her smile lit her features, and made her attractive.  I smiled back at each of my companions.  Dare I even think of them as my friends?  Certainly mere companions would abandon me in the face of that which I was about to confront.  If they were friends, I had done them a grave disservice by dragging them along with me.  If any of us survived the trials ahead, I would have to find some way to pay the great debt I owed them.  We'd come a long way together.  There wasn't much further to go.

“Let us show them what happens to those who try to trap the Knights of Ethan.”  I called into the cave, hearing my voice echo through the emptiness.  We walked into darkness.  I thought we would not need to fight the hordes of Hungering that Orthisius and Reamis had encountered, but I did not fully understand the nature of my enemy.  That was a dangerous failing on my part.

Time is meaningless in the darkness where the sky has no claim.  Days after we entered, and I only guessed days because I could judge by nothing other than a whimsical sense of time passing, the rough-hewn floor of the cave gave way into a smooth, worked surface.  The going became easier, but our unease increased.  When the ground first changed, we took a moment to feel out our surroundings.  The tunnel seemed to shift from natural cave to crafted hallway, a structure of carefully carved stone.  There were even sconces upon the wall in which torches might be set.  There were no torches in them, but their presence was a curiosity.  Who had put them there in the first place?

We fumbled through the dark trying to get a feel for our new surroundings.  My eyes could make out vague outlines of the area around me, an effect, I reasoned, of my constantly increasing abilities.  Combined with my hearing, I had a much more precise picture of our surroundings than the others who were walking through complete darkness.  Even had we thought to bring light, torches would not have stayed burning as long as we would have needed them to.

The passageways wound and twisted together, spiraling off in different directions, some leading up, some leading down.  I always had a sense of which direction to take.  How long, I wondered, could a person walk lost amidst the tunnels without the aid of that constant pull?  I thought of the story of Reamis and Orthisius.  It had taken them a month and a half to go all the way into the tunnels and come back.  How much of that time had been spent lost, walking the same paths again and again?

A more terrifying thought, and one that had occurred to me on several occasions, was that whatever I was following might be leading me in circles.  I could not be certain what called me into the darkness.  Sometimes it seemed we turned back on our own path, or took a left one too many times.  However, we seemed to be making progress.  If nothing else, the change of the caves from natural rock to carved corridor seemed to indicate a positive shift in our surroundings.  Though there was also something ominous in discovering a perfectly sculpted corridor so far below the ground.  Who had built those passageways, and where had they gone?  Were the Hungering the source?  If so, I really understood very little about their society.

Someone bumped into me roughly, distracting me from my considerations.

“Sorry.”  Snow said, nudging me several more times before she got her bearings correct again and separated herself from me.  “This darkness must be getting to me.”  She added.  Her voice seemed strained, tired, as though some great weight lay upon the shoulders of the white-furred warrior.

“We're making progress.”  I whispered, trying to be encouraging.  We all spoke in whispers.  The caves were quiet, and anything louder than a whisper seemed too much for the space around us.  I could see the positions of each of the other Knights.  To my vision, even when they were standing still, I could see the nearly imperceptible rise and fall of their chests, and the barest shifts in their posture.  In the dark, they did not stand as confidently as they did out under the sun or stars.  Perhaps it was because they didn't feel the need to put on false confidence in the caves, or perhaps the darkness really was wearing upon them.

A vague scuffling sound caught my ears.  It was distant, and hard to catch, but it was immediately identifiable from the normal sounds of the cave.  I'd heard dripping, and occasionally the scurrying of an insect or rat, but this was more substantial, and yet far away.

“I hear something.”  I said quietly, and everyone went absolutely still.  I heard more scuffling, growing louder, coming from multiple directions.

“I hear it.”  Snow said, and a moment later the others could hear it as well.  The sound of metal on leather rang out around me as those with weapons drew them.  In the caves of the Hungering, it was probably safe to assume whatever was coming was not there on friendly business.

“Spread out.”  I instructed the others, and we all moved to create distance between us.  If something dangerous was coming, we would be able to fight it by tracking its movement with our motion sensitive eyes, but that didn't mean that we wouldn't be safer if we all gave each other some space in which to fight.  The stone corridor we were in allowed for a good deal of movement.  All of us could have stood abreast across it, with arms fully extended, and enough room to jump, even Tower.  If we had to fight, it was as good a place as any.  There had been a few very narrow and low roofed passages in the early tunnels, and I was just as glad we had not had to fight our way forward through those.  Pinch points like that could have stopped us indefinitely.

I took the foremost position, placing myself squarely between whatever was coming, and my companions.  I had no weapon, but my body was far less vulnerable than theirs, and I could at least make out some semblance of my surroundings in the darkness.    From fifty yards down the corridor, red glowing eyes began to appear.  I could tell they were pouring into the main corridor from side passages by the direction from which they came, but I was still alarmed at how fast they appeared.  The Hungering had arrived to greet us.  I could hear the sound of metal weapons clanging against chitinous armor.  They were not coming simply to greet us.  Whatever leniency had been allowed us to that point had just ended.

I had no time to consider what the sudden change in tactics meant because I was quickly swept up in the fire of the moment.  I rushed forward, willing my claws as sharp as I could make them.  I hit the Hungering front like an explosion, ripping through the first bodies before they could even draw up a defense.  I slipped into the speed of my motion, and the world fell to a crawl around me.  In the stillness of the slowed world, only those creatures closest to me stood out clearly.  That was all I needed.

With every lash of my claw my enemies fell away, spiraling through the air in bloody tatters, disgusting, slow-motion, artistic works of death.  I was fighting for those behind me.  That thought pushed me onward.  The Hungering surged forward harder, and I suddenly found myself losing ground.  For every one I killed, three more stepped to fill its place.  I could hear the sounds of heated battle behind me, and I realized that despite my lead into the fight, I was being forced backwards.  I couldn't afford to go backwards.  Kay lay ahead.  I roared in anger and thrashed through the enemies around me.  The Hungering crumpled away in waves.

A squealing howl sounded through the corridors, echoing off the chamber walls in a confusing manor that made it difficult to tell from which direction it originated.  I recognized the sound immediately.  It was the howl of the six legged beasts the Hungering used to hunt the Knights of Ethan.  They were fast, and could outmaneuver a Knight if they were not cautious.  I searched the horde for the beasts, knowing they posed the greatest threat.  I found the first once quickly.  It was emerging from a vent in the ceiling, crawling down the rock as though it were on a level surface.  I leapt, soaring through the air in slow motion, preparing my claws to strike.  It never had a chance to react to my attack.

The last time I'd fought such creatures, I had not been as strong or quick as I had recently become.  I tore the six legged monstrosity's head from its body and twisted about in the air, so that I would be in position to push myself off of the ceiling when I landed there.  My legs struck and shifted my momentum. I threw myself towards my next enemy.  Even moving as quickly as I was, it was difficult to change trajectories in mid flight, and I landed to the side of the next six legged beast, smashing into a group of Hungering.  I struck with both claws as I landed, killing whatever came within range.  I missed my original mark, however, and the creature was already away through the hungering mass, moving towards my companions.

I finished my roll to the ground, spending my excess momentum and shifting directions back the way I'd come.  I had to reach the creature before it broke through its own ranks and came upon my friends unprepared.  The Fell Beast within me raged, clawing at the cage in which I bound it.  I needed its strength, but I was afraid of it.  Whisper's words came back to me, "a man cannot stand divided against himself."I understood them, and knew what I should do.

That six legged thing, that bearer of death, was drawing closer to those I wanted to protect, and hundreds of Hungering stood in my way.  I needed more strength, and more speed, and there was only one thing I could do to get it.  I let go of the wall I'd built around the Fell Beast aspect of myself, and reached out to it.  The Fell Beast's rage dropped away, and in my mind I saw its fiery eyes.  There was still anger, and terrible power burning in those dark pits of its existence, but beneath that, I saw a shadow of myself.  It's about time you realized that we are the same.  Strength rippled through me, and suddenly the way ahead seemed clear.  I shot forward, claws rending those that came too close.  I didn't need to concentrate on every strike I made or every defensive move, my body knew what was necessary, and it reacted.  The Fell Beast part of me was all instinct and power, and with it firmly in hand, I was a stronger fighter.  The Fell Beast was dead, what I had been locking away all that time, was my own fear and anger at myself for using strength that I thought made me more of a monster.  I was what I was, and there was no time to fear that.  That revelation that I had kept locked away for so long, had been my greatest burden.  Suddenly freed from it, I found myself twice as powerful as I'd ever been before.

The Knight hunting creature parted the last of the Hungering line and dived at Tower, tackling him to the ground, but it only had a second on him before I exploded from the ranks of enemies around me and charged into it.  I hit it with such force that we skittered across the ground in a flurry of claws, teeth, and rage.  By the time we'd come to a stop, the creature was dead.  I leapt back into the battle, breaking the front line of the enemy and dealing death wherever I could lay claw.  The Hungering line began to fall back.  At my sides, the Knights fought on.  Malice and Snow swept through their forms, impenetrable walls of steel death, and Tower and Silver held their own as well.  I had little time to check, but I could see that Tower had sustained injuries in his short tumble with the six legged creature.

Still, we were making headway.  The progress was slow, and every minute of battle ate into the energy of me and the others.  I worried about the other Knights.  How long could they hold the pace?

As quickly as it had begun, it stopped.  The Hungering began to filter out of the tunnels, until only a few remained.  One turned as it was about to crawl down a side passage.

“Remember, you live on at my discretion.”  The creature said, its voice strangely serene and fluent in our language.  It ducked down a passageway and was gone.

I didn't know what to make of the creature's words.  What did it want?  If the Hungering really did control when we lived, and when we died, why had they not simply killed us?  Were they testing us?  I looked at the others.  Malice and Snow were uninjured.  Silver had a few small gashes, and Tower had several nasty gouges on his torso.  I guessed that they had come from when he'd been attacked by the Knight hunter.  All four of the others looked tired.  The attack had taken a lot out of them.  We'd been walking for days without rest, and their energy was low.  Even I was feeling winded, if not anywhere near at my limits.  What would we do if they came again?

The pressure in my chest tugged me onward.  I could feel that there wasn't much further for me to go.  Whatever was waiting for me was near at hand.  At the most, we had another day of progress through the tunnels.  That was, of course, if we met no further resistance.

“We should rest.”  I said, knowing the others would need it far more than I.  I hated saying the words, but I couldn't run my friends into the ground.  I owed them more than that.

“No.”  Snow replied.  “We're too close now, and this place isn't safe. We need to finish what we've come here to do.”

“I agree.  Stopping now would be foolish.  We don't want to be attacked while we're at rest.  That would be worse than facing the enemy while tired.”  Silver added her opinion.  I looked to Malice and Tower. They both nodded their agreement, also stating that they were ready to go on.  As much as I knew they needed rest, their sentiment held true.  Resting at the wrong time could be a worse tactical move than fighting tired.  If the others felt they could go on, it was best to go on.

“Alright.”  I agreed.  It was at that moment, that a faint white light filled the corridor.  Everyone prepared for the worst, swords coming up, claws leveled, but it took us only a moment to realize that the source of the light was the walls around us.  For the first time we could clearly see the corridor we were in.  Every surface of the walls and ceiling was covered in minuscule carvings that were lightly aglow.  The light was so slight that, had we not been in complete darkness for days, it might have gone unnoticed.  However, to those who'd seen nothing but black for as long as we had, the strange stone halls around us almost seemed bright.

“Does anyone else find it strange that we were just attacked, and now they're lighting the welcoming torch?”  Silver asked.

I had been thinking the exact same thing myself.  They attacked us, and then they shone light on our path.  The strangeness of their behavior did little to ease my mind.  The light was a welcome change, but it also sat uneasily with me.  Knowing one's enemy, could aid in a battle, but in the case of the Hungering, it was impossible to determine what motivated them.  We were fighting an enemy that we knew nothing about.

“At least we won't have to stumble through the dark anymore.”  Malice said, and the others laughed uneasily.  I wondered if we might not have been better off in the dark.  The Fell Beast part of me sat with hackles at a rise.  Danger, all around me was terrible danger.

The miles passed, and the corridors turned into expansive streets as a great underground city of ruins opened up before us.  Of all the marvels I had seen in my life, no piece of construction compared to what lay deep beneath Tett O Sut.  Much of it was in ruin, either from disuse, or some form of attack I couldn't be certain, but there was no denying the level of craftsmanship that had gone into what remained of what must have been one of the greatest artistic metropolises of all time.  The buildings were made from an unfamiliar wood, though it was all incredibly well preserved.  Every inch of timber bore intricately carved designs so that no two pieces looked exactly the same.  To see it in ruins was heart breaking.

Who had created such art?  Certainly no humans lived so far below ground.   What did that leave?  Had the Hungering been responsible?  Were they capable of such levels of high art?  If they were, why had they let it all fall to ruin?  Why did they not carry any of that art or culture with them as they traveled?  The underground world we'd stumbled into raised more questions, and served to answer none.  If I had any expectations of what the Hungering's home might look like, what surrounded me did not meet them.

As we progressed further into the city, more and more often I saw red eyes peering out from the buildings.  They glowed with fiery hostility, and I expected that at any minute an attack might come.  My body was tense and ready, and I could tell by the stance of my companions that they felt much the same.  All their faces wore a mixture of surprise, wonder, and resigned readiness.  The further we progressed, the more the city seemed intact.  Fewer buildings were collapsed, and more stood stretching up into the darkness of the cave high above.  Human buildings fought the forces that drew them downward, and that is how they looked to the observer, like a structure fighting to stand.  The buildings of that cave city seemed to be growing to the sky, as if they were effortlessly lifting their own weight towards the cave ceiling high above.

No two structures were exactly the same, but every building looked as though it had been inspired by the mind of the same artist.  How many years, I wondered, had it taken to carry all that wood below ground, and carve all those buildings?  The city below ground was the single greatest achievement I had ever witnessed.  I was awed by its splendor.  Had it really been the Hungering that built it?  I wished that Telistera was there.  If any of us would have known, it would have been the silver-eyed woman.  Somehow, though, I thought the answers to that subterranean city would have been beyond even her.

I followed the pulling in my chest.  It had become almost painful.  I could tell my goal was near at hand.  The closer I came to it, the less I noticed the buildings and wonders around me.  Red eyes, thousands of them, watched our progression from all sides.  They did not attack.  I found myself running.

I wasn't sure at what point I'd broken into a full run, but the pulling was so insistent I couldn't resist it any longer.  Side streets fell away as I charged forward.  The other Knights ran hard to keep up, and I believe they sensed that we were drawing near the end as well.  There was an excitement in the air born of our magical surroundings, and the impending end of our journey.  Wherever we had been lead for years, we were nearly there.  A wall stretched before me, and in the wall was a large, double doored gate.  The gate stood open, and beyond it was a brighter area of light.  That was where I was going.  I ran harder.  The Hungering began to pour out of the buildings.

They did not attack, but they were gathering up behind us, and all around us, massing in numbers so large that they were filling up all the alleys and adjoining roads.  I ignored them.  My goal lay in front of me.  The end.  I was nearly there.  I charged through the open gates and into an area lit by ball of glowing light that hovered some fifty feet in the air.  The light was giving off a warm sun-like glow, and the area around me was filled with grass and trees.  There were plants of all kinds in full bloom, and a field of grass lead up to a white stone dais.  There was a figure clad in a black dress lying atop the dais.  My heart jumped in my chest.

“Kaylien!”  I called out as I dashed forward.  I covered the last stretch of ground between myself and the stone slab in a flash, blurring forward with speed.  There upon the stone was the same girl I'd seen in the woods a few nights before.  Her face was calm and peaceful, and I could see her chest rising and falling, as though she were breathing deeply in sleep.  Something was wrong though. Her breath was too slight, each spaced too far apart.

“Kay?”  I called, and placed a hand on her arm.  She did not wake, but I felt a stirring in my mind and a twitter in my chest.  “What?”  I asked aloud, surprised by the sensation.

“She's sleeping.”  A voice said.  Actually, it was two voices speaking in perfect harmony.  I didn't move, but I looked up.  Standing at the other side of the garden, just a few feet from where my daughter lay, were two human looking figures.  I recognized one of them immediately.  She was a woman of average height, with short dark hair, and eyes of gray that brimmed with smoke.  I had only seen that face once before, but I recognized it for what it was.  It was the woman who had been aboard the Hungering ship that had rescued us after our vessel was destroyed by the red streaks.

The man next to her I did not recognize at all, but his he had two sets of eyes, both of them were gray and smoky, like the woman's.  One stood in place of his normal eyes, the others were on his forehead, in the same place that Ethaniel had worn his.  I knew those creatures for what they were.  Shadowlyn.  How many such monsters existed?  What were there ties to the Hungering?  Both of the figures before me were dressed in finery, the clothes of nobles.  The man wore a crown of bright silver metal that shone in the light cast by the false sun that hovered above the subterranean garden.

I ran my fingers across Kay's face, feeling her skin against mine for the first time in far too long, and then I let my attention fall away from her, so that it might once again come to center upon the figures that stood before me.  Every fiber of my being was yelling a warning.  They were deadly, those two.

“Why won't she wake up?”  I asked, my voice was low and dangerous.

“She sleeps because I am keeping her asleep.”  The two answered, again speaking perfectly in sync.  “Besides, you wouldn't want her to waste more energy than she already has, would you?  It took you so long to get here that I'm afraid her time is running short.”

Anger flared in me, held at bay only through considerable will.  “What have you done to her?  The Hungering said she wouldn't be hurt!”  I demanded.

“. . . and she hasn't been hurt, not by me certainly.  It is you who pose the greatest threat to her right now.  Even as we speak, you're eating into her life force like a starving wolf eats at a dead animal.”  The two replied.

“What do you mean?”  My confusion and surprise was such that the facts lying bare before me were impossible to put together on my own.

“Who did you think you've been bound to this entire time?  Didn't you find it the least bit strange that the bond took hold so fast, and has been filling you with power so quickly?  Even I did not anticipate that you would steal her life with such an insatiable hunger.  You are remarkable.  We knew, when we discovered she had the Uliona power, that she would bond well with you, but how could we anticipate such an unprecedented event?”  The two spoke as one.

I heard gasps of shock from behind me.  The reality of what had been said struck me like a war hammer.  I felt my knees go weak.  I looked down at Kaylien, her pale features, and her tightly closed eyes.  She was the Uliona girl whose life I was bound to.  I was stealing the life out of my own daughter.  She looked so fragile, and so alone.  It all made sense to me in that moment.  That was how I'd seen her in the woods.  The bond between us, already strong from being parent and child, had been made stronger by the binding process.  Through that, Kay had been able to project herself to me.  It was the same way Kye had always known when I was in serious danger, and had come running.  That pulling I'd felt, drawing me into the cave, and down into the earth, had been my parasitic bond with Kaylien.  Had she been calling for help, or just unwittingly drawing ever nearer the man who was killing her?

“Why would you do something so terrible?”  I growled across my daughter's sleeping body.

“Terrible?  TERRIBLE!?”  The two figures both yelled angrily in reply.  “Do you think you can understand what terrible really means?”  The hate in their eyes smoldered.  “You have seen my city, human?  I know that there is nothing so terrible in this world as humanity and their offspring.

“You want your daughter's life.  I want something as well.  You will listen to what I have to say, and then you will agree to my terms.  If you do not, I kill everyone in this room, and then devour the world.  Let me tell you about your people, Lowin Fenly.”  Hungering were streaming into the garden room as the two spoke, crawling over the walls, and filing in through the gate.  We were surrounded.  The two shadowlyn creatures, which I was beginning to think of as one entity, stood in front of us, and thousands of the Hungering surrounded us.  The shadowlyn was the king of the Hungering I realized only too late.  I had traveled for years in the company of my greatest enemy.

I had no choice but to stand and listen, though I wanted nothing more than to leap across the distance between myself and the shadowlyn and rip their throats out.  I took my daughter's hand in mine, and stood my ground.

“Say what you will, but be quick.  I have something I need to do.”  With the blue crystal in my pack, I could give my daughter back her life.  I just needed to assure that she could be gotten to safety after I'd done so.  I only needed an opening.  Kaylien, I thought, I'm sorry that your life has been so terrible.  I hope you can forgive your father some day.

“Humanity created me, Lowin.  Long ago they practiced magics different than those you use now, and they had reached a pinnacle of mastery, by their own judgment.  They believed that through power, they could obtain absolute mastery over every element of their lives.  Perhaps they were correct, but they did not understand their own flaws.  I was a result of their fooling with powers they did not fully comprehend.  Back then, I was a single entity, small and bewildered by the world I found myself suddenly born into.  I was so weak that I could barely maintain my own existence.  They considered me a failure, and so I was released, and left to my own devices.  They were careless with magic.”

As the shadowlyn spoke, both of its bodies gestured and inflected in exact harmony.  “I did not hate them for that.  In fact, I did not hate at all.  I didn't understand human emotions, or human ambitions.  I was a pure being.  I knew nothing of violence, and war, of death and torment.  I wanted to learn what the world would teach me, so I drifted through it, watching and taking in everything I could.  Everywhere I went I found mankind fighting one another, killing one another, over things I didn't understand, for reasons that seemed to make no sense, yet still I did not learn anything of war and death, though I saw it everywhere.  I drifted further from my creators, looking for purpose in myself, and in the world.  That is when I found my children.”

The eyes of Hungering around us flashed from red to blue, and then back to red again, as though in answer to the story being told.

“They were almost entirely blank, but in them I saw such incredible potential.  They had strength, and power, and were open to be molded by whoever was willing to give a pattern to them.  By this time, I had wandered the world for thousands of years, and I had many stories and visions in my mind.  I wanted to paint them all.  I wanted to create something that would last, and so I reached to these empty children, these Hungering, these Cave Fay, and I connected.  I began to build two cities; one above ground, and one below.  I connected them with magics that had been bestowed upon me by my creators.  I think, at that time, I understood something of pride, and I wanted for my creators to feel that pride in what I had learned.  I wanted them to look upon my works, and see that I was not a failure.

“I sent an emissary from my people to the humans, but it did not return.  I felt the moment it stopped, though at that time I had not the power to see what it saw.  I sent another, and another, and then a hundred more, but each time they vanished, cut off from me forever.  I felt each loss, and wondered what had happened.  That is when humanity came to see my creations.

“They came not with artists and researchers, but with generals, and armies.  I didn't know what war was.  I didn't understand death.  They taught me.  They destroyed my city above, and then they destroyed my city below, and killed my children, every one of them that they could find.  I tried to hide them.  I tried to fight back, but they kept coming.”

“'Why,' I asked, 'Why are you doing this?'”  They did not have any answers.  They came to take what was mine because they wanted it for themselves.  They came to take, yet they destroyed.  What would be left to take after everything was destroyed?  They killed almost all of my children, and I fled deep into the rock, in shock and dismay.  I understood war.  I understood death.  I had learned.

“I spent millennia in hiding, trying to gather what was left of my children together.  We tried to rebuild my city.  That is when something amazing happened.  A human child stumbled into my caves, and fell deep into a vent.  He was injured, dying, when I found him, but not yet gone.  He reached out to me and said, 'Please, help me.'

“I was going to finish him.  I was going to snap his fragile spine and leave him to die, as his kind had left so many of mine, but as I drew close to him I felt myself being drawn into him.  On impulse, I let it happen, and suddenly I discovered something I didn't think possible.  I had a body, and with that body came power.  What was more; I knew everything the child had known in life.  I knew of his family, his friends, the turmoil of existence.  I knew it all.  Humanity had changed in the time I'd been away from them, but their plague still existed upon the land.  Suddenly I found myself filled with an unquenchable lust for revenge.  I could see deep into the world below ground, and there I found more children, like the Hungering.  I called to them, and they answered.  There were other things sleeping there too, but they were too deep to reach.  I took what I could find.  We surged up from the earth, and fought to take back what was ours.  Nothing could stop us.  I learned only too soon that an army must feed, and that no food is more abundant than that created by war.  I let my children feast.

“Then came Orthisius and Reamis, and I learned the folly of keeping so weak a host.  My power had been increased, but when those two reached me, they killed me easily, though not before I had nearly destroyed them and all their followers.  They cut my body into three pieces, crafted boxes from the remains of my beautiful city, and cast them in three different directions.  They thought I was dead.  I thought I had finally learned of death.  However, those three pieces of me were not dead.

“It took me a long time to learn how to separate myself from a body, far longer than it had taken me to learn how to join with one, but I pulled free of that dead flesh.  I found myself in three separate places, and in need of new hosts.    I discovered, through trial and error, that a host must be willing or I could not properly form a connection.  These two bodies were willing.”  Each of the shadowlyn's bodies pointed at itself.  “For the power I offered, they had no problem with playing host.  The third body, Ethaniel, he was different.  I thought I had him, but he used a bonding ritual that was archaic and brutal.  It left me weak.  It took me a long time to overcome his will, and he never stopped fighting.  When he was killed by the silver-eyed witch, I was able to easily leave his body since it had never been fully mine to begin with, but his hesitance and his personality were a constant battle to control.  I nearly lost him multiple times.  When he was killed, I was almost glad to be free of him.”

All those terrible eyes settled on me.  “That brings me to what I want from you, Lowin Fenly.”

“You are a being unlike others of your kind.  Your potential for power is nearly unlimited.  When I first learned of your existence, I knew that you were possessed of something I wanted.  Just being near you, I can feel the energy, and the potential to create, and destroy.  I want your existence.  I want you to give yourself to me, freely.  I want to bring the three parts of myself back together in one place.”  The two speaking as one said.  A cold chill ran down my back.

“I am not unwilling to deal.  For your body, I will give your friends their lives, and I will break the bond to your daughter.  With your life, I will have the power to do that.  Her lifespan will be diminished, but at least she will have a chance to live.  Furthermore, I will leave humanity to its own devices for the next hundred years.   In that time, those you care about can have lives of their own.  Your daughter could even have a family, and children.  All I ask for is that you give me what I want, willingly.”  The wall of Hungering around us surged as though they might burst forward and attack, but they subsided.

I could hardly believe what was happening.  The choice laid before me by the shadowlyn was a terrible thing.  It was offering me the lives of my companions, and the lives of countless others, but only until it decided to attack and take the world for its own.  If I gave it my life, I would be giving it the power to do as it pleased.  Neither of its choices amounted to a victory.

“What if I refuse?  What will you do to us?  Will you kill us now instead of waiting until later?  What of my daughter's children, and her children's children?  At some point, you will rise up out of the ground and sweep them all away. You're bargain is empty.  It gives us some more time, but in the end it still means death for my people.”  I retorted. I was trying to think of some way out of the situation.  I could think of nothing.  Kay's hand, which I still clasped in my own, felt cold.

“For your people death is inevitable.  Humanity is not happy unless it's killing and ruining each other.  Look at Lucidil. Nothing stood in the way of his ambitions.  He tread upon any foolish enough to block his path, even the woman he claimed to love.  Lord Lheec wanted the throne so badly that he made the people suffer just to claim it.  He conspired against a rightful king because he wanted that power under his thumb.  When you refused him that power, he took things into his own hands, and would have killed countless thousands to wrest it from you.

“Ethaniel served the human kings for years, doing his bidding even when he knew that what he was doing defied his morals.  He allowed the binding process that cost an innocent life each time it was used because he knew it would strengthen the human kingdom's standing in the world.  The atrocities he'd witnessed, and failed to stop, would shock you, Lowin.  Should I tell you of how he let his own sons be sold into slavery because the king felt that their presence interfered with his duty as a soldier?  How about the story of how he killed the human woman who had sired those children at the king's orders?  Certainly he didn't tell you those stories himself.  In fact, I think I might be the only one left who knows those tales.

“What about you, Lowin?  You stand here before me, defying my will, when you yourself are just another symbol of what is wrong with humanity.  You have chased your daughter across the world, allowing people to die so that you can save one life.  You took money the people needed to recover from the war, and used it to build ships to get here, and you bankrupted your own kingdom just to get one last strike in at Lord Lheec.  What of Brutal?  Did he deserve to die?

“No, Lowin, humanity is already dead.  It is just waiting for me to come and sweep it away and start fresh.  Wasn't this country beautiful as you passed through it, Lowin?  Wasn't it peaceful, and calm?  That is what the world will be like when I'm done.  There will be blood and death along the way, but when it's over, there will be serenity and peace.”

Never before had words pierced me so deeply.  Whether they were magically weighted, or simply perfectly aimed, I felt them like deep wounds.  His examples were perfect.  In each situation I could see the evil of man, laid bare for me to look at.  We were a terrible menace, humanity.

Laouna's smile flashed through my mind, and I looked down at my daughter's face.  They were beautiful, wonderful people.  I loved them dearly.  The world was full of other people like them, and those people had others that they loved.  Humanity was ugly and disgusting sometimes, but there was good in it as well.  I remembered holding Malice in the dark, and the feel of her skin against mine.  I remembered the innocent smile of Kye, so long dead, and I remembered the stern face of Wisp as she'd scolded me for not being a good father to Kay.

There was too much good in humanity to let it all die.  I would not be the harbinger of the death of humanity.  I bent down and kissed my daughter's cheek.

“I love you, Kay.”  I whispered into her ear.  I felt warmth flow into me.  Somehow, I knew she heard me.  I flashed forward, hoping that I would not be condemning us all to a terrible death.

The world slowed around me as I pulled at every resource of speed and strength I had at my disposal.  I had never moved so quickly before.  I reached the woman first, with her single set of shadowlyn eyes.  I could see the male jumping backwards.  He was faster, but the female body had no chance.  I tore her in half with two vicious lashes, and she fell to the ground, writhing and gurgling on her own blood.  The Hungering mass surged forward, but I did not slow.  I charged at the four-eyed male.

He brought up a sword and deflected my first strike.

“What will you do, kill me?  Even with these fully bonded bodies it will only take me a year or two to break free from the flesh.  When I come back, I will hunt down and kill everyone you love, Lowin.  I will start with your daughter.”  His voice rang through the void of speed, as though his words were aimed directly at my mind.  I had no time to look, but I knew the other Knights would be fighting as well.

I ignored the shadowlyn's taunt and attacked again.  He was fast, and skilled.  His blade whirled and twisted perfectly through patterns I'd never seen before.  He had thousands of years of experience in his mind.  I would dodge a strike, only to find that it was a feint, and I needed to dive off my center of balance.  He was not fighting to kill, I realized, after three such moves.  He was buying time, and I knew that time was exactly what I did not have.  The Hungering would be wearing down Malice and the others.  I had to kill the beast with the smoking eyes.

Our fight continued with me constantly pressing in for a kill, and the shadowlyn continually turning my strikes aside, and offering counter blows of his own, but he would not strike to kill me.  He would not even strike to cause me serious harm, though the openings for him to do so were many, I knew.  I could sense every time my guard slipped too low, and knew, each time, that death was only a flick of the creature's wrist away from me.  In every instance the shadowlyn backed down, refusing to take the opening.  He would fight me until my friends were dead, and I could no longer resist his advance, and then I would have nothing left to do but to hear him out, and either give him what he wanted, or lose my daughter and everything else.  I could not allow the situation to fall back into that corner.

I glanced over my shoulder long enough to see the others fighting a harrowing battle against the hordes of Hungering warriors.  They were being overwhelmed by sheer numbers, a magnitude of enemies that they could not hope to turn aside no matter how well they fought.  How long before one of my companions was killed?  How long before Malice was struck down?  I could not allow that to happen.  A plan formed in my mind.

The shadowlyn feinted with a thrust, a blow that even the weakest trainee swordsman would be able to avoid.  I saw the feint, but instead of retreating as my common sense told me to do, and falling away so as to avoid the follow up blow, I pushed myself forward with everything I could muster.  The shadowlyn saw my intent too late.  I felt the sword point pierce through my upper torso, skimming my heart, and ripping through my left lung and out through the back of my left shoulder blade.  Now I was too close for my enemy to escape, and his weapon was tied up beyond his ability to retrieve it.  I grabbed the shadowlyn with my white furred hand, picking him up by the neck.  I squeezed with all my strength.

“You fool!”  His voice screamed through the void of speed.  I ignored him and kept squeezing, though his hands clawed at my arms in desperation.  “I will kill everything that means something to you.  You will suffer beyond imagining for this!”  His voice growled through my mind, dark and menacing, the scream of a creature whose rage was a beast unto itself.  I did not relent.  The muscles in my arm strained, my hand tightened, and then his spine snapped and the flesh of his neck tore away under my grip.  His body fell away in two pieces, head and torso.  I collapsed to my knees, wheezing with every breath.

The shadowlyn was dead again.

I struggled back to my feet, grabbing the sword and tearing it from my chest.  I felt my body healing the damage even as I stumbled back to the stone slab on which Kay lay.  I had never suffered so severe a wound before, but as I felt the flesh knitting back together, I knew I would recover.  All around me, the burning red eyes of the Hungering shifted to blue.  The creatures turned and walked away, suddenly uninterested in the events happening before them.  My companions, who had just been involved in a struggle for their very lives, found themselves poised for battle in the midst of an enemy that no longer seemed to notice they were even there.  Malice ran over to Kay, and stood over her, a look of confusion on her face.  I leaned on the dais, my blood pooling around my elbow.  I felt weak.  Even though I was healing, the wound was severe.

“Kay.”  I called my daughter's name as I took a hold of her arm.  She did not reply.  Her breathing had become more rapid, and a sheen of sweat was on her skin.  She felt far away.  I felt the edges of my wound knitting closed.  “Kaylien.”  I said her name again, but she did not open her eyes.  How much life had I taken from her so far?  How much remained to her?

“I know this girl.”  I heard Malice say.  “I know her, Lowin.”

I nodded.  “This is our little girl. We raised her together, with Wisp.  Though you and Wisp are the two who really raised her.  I was not a very good father.”  I reached to my pack and cut the straps from it with my claws, letting it fall to the slab in front of me.  I knew what I needed to do next.  The other Knights had gathered around.  Tower and Silver were both bleeding from several wounds, but Malice and Snow seemed tired but unharmed.  They were phenomenal fighters.  I could think of no better people to leave my daughter with.

“Oh. . .”  Malice said, and I saw light dawning on her face.  “I remember her.  I remember holding her and I remember. . . Lucidil took her away from us.  I. . .”  Her words faded, and I could tell she was struggling through her memories.  I wasn't going to interrupt her.  I had something I had to do.

I reached for the pouch that had the blue crystal in it.  My fingers found it readily, shaking in anticipation of what I must do next.  I felt frayed fabric.  There was a jagged rip across the bottom.  Panic bit into me as I unfastened the tie to the pouch and reached inside.  It was empty.  I staggered backwards.

“No. . .”  I said, and fell to my knees, searching the ground.  It must have fallen out when the sword pierced me, cut by the blade as it went by.  Realization struck, with desperation following soon after.  The sword hadn't pierced there.  When could I have ripped my pack, how many miles of road lay between myself and the place where I'd lost the crystal?

“I have it, here.”  I turned as I heard Snow's voice.  She was standing with the blue crystal in one hand.  She had a knife in the other.  “I took it when I bumped into you earlier.  I'm sorry, Lowin.  I knew you'd worry. . . I didn't know your daughter was the one. . . I had no idea.  I wasn't going to let you die.  I couldn't. . .”  Her pink and black eyes shone with tears.

“Give me the crystal, Snow.”  I reached out my hand, relief flooding through me.  I could still save Kay.  That euphoria I experience as I realized I might still serve one last cause clouded my perception.  I saw Snow, but I did not really see her.  Perhaps I never had really seen her.

Snow took a step backwards.  “No, Lowin.  I'm sorry, but I love you.  I know what you plan to do, and I can't let you.”  There was a blur as her hand accelerated, and then she dropped to her knees, blood gushing from her chest.  I flew to my feet and charged across the distance between us even as I saw the hand holding the crystal thrust up towards the fresh wound.  I was not nearly fast enough.  All the power in my body could not move me with any more agility, though I would have given anything at that moment just to have started moving a second sooner.  An explosion of blue light tore through the air, rippling out from Snow's body.  I saw the pink and black eyes go dark, like two shimmering coals, and then the wave hit me with such force that I was knocked to the ground.

“Snow!”  Tower's voice cut the air, one of the most pained sounds I'd ever heard.  The Knight of white fur slumped the rest of the way to the ground and lay terribly still.

“Daddy. . .”  A weak voice sounded from behind me.

Let me start the beginning of the end, the way I ended the beginning - with a burial.  We buried Snow in the woods not far outside the cave of the Hungering.  We were too far from home to do anything more for her.  Time wasn't something we had in quantity, but we took some anyway.  I found a suitable headstone after a great deal of searching.  It was a white, crystalline rock.  Together with Tower, Silver, and Malice we carved and worked the rock to pay Snow the respect she so well deserved.  The stone bore the inscription:

Snow,

she was our song.

In the morning, in the light,

no more worries, no more fright.

Eyes shut softly, peace and calm,

no more troubles, night has gone.

It was foolishly sentimental, but I couldn't think of anything more poetic to write.  That song of hers has never left me.  I will teach it to Kay some day, and I'm sure she will teach it to her children.  Perhaps Snow had siblings of her own that also will carry on that sad tune.  In the end, I really knew very little about the woman who had spent so long fighting at my side.  I'm still ashamed of that.

I will never forget all those who died to bring my daughter back to me, and as many of them as I knew, I've recorded in these pages.  The countless members of the black cloaks who died weigh heavily upon me still.  So few of them will ever have a name, and yet they gave so much.  I know I have forever lost my chance to make things right with the dead.  I most regret the way I treated Snow towards the end of her life.  I never completely forgave her betrayal, and in the end she gave everything for my happiness.  What harm would those words have done me?  “I forgive you.”  What harm?  What a fool I am, and always have been.

Tower left shortly after we finished burying Snow.  I don't know where he went, or what his intentions were, but he took his sword and departed.  I fear the worst for him.  When Snow gave her life, I believe it broke something in that young Knight.  I have not seen him since, and I don't know if I ever will again.

We took the two bodies of the shadowlyn, and put them into boxes we crafted from the elaborately designed wood of the creature's fallen city, much as Orthisius and Reamis had done long before us.  With the help of Silver and Malice, I took the bodies and cast them into the broken traveler's gate, Telistera's ghost ring, that had beckoned me so strongly when first I'd encountered it.  It still called to me.  Getting close enough to throw the boxes in was a harrowing experience.  They tumbled through the air and vanished at some invisible point just before the beginning of the stone entry way.  I don't know where they've gone, but I hope it's some place from which they will never return.

I don't know who is worse, in the end, the shadowlyn or me.  Every accusation it had made was true.  I had done terrible things over the course of my life.  I hope I will need do no more.

I am a monster.  I wasn't born as such, but I became one.  I hope that someday I can find my soul again in the love of Laouna, and my daughter, Kay.  If there is any hope for man, it is in the hearts of those who would love him despite all of his many failings.  That is where I'll continue to search for myself.

LAOUNA~

Lowin wanted me to write an ending for his book.  He says, “If we don't tell this story, who else will?”  Sometimes I look at the man he has become and it scares me.  He is so strong and dangerous.  I get scared, but then I remember how tenderly he holds me, and how soft his voice is when he speaks to Kay, and I know that I have nothing to be afraid of.

I've recovered most of my memories, but I don't think I'm the same person I was when I first met Lowin.  I can smile.  I remember the terrible burden of loneliness I carried.  I don't feel that anymore.  Kay chases out any such illusions with her warm smiles and her quick laughter.  She reminds me of her mother, Kye, and I can say that without feeling any jealousy.  I once was very jealous of Kyeia, but she was a good woman.  Kay will be a good woman too.  She has her father's stubbornness, but her mother's subtle strength.  I love her very much.

I'm pregnant.  It's a terrifying experience, but Lowin is excited, and Kay is hoping for a little brother.  I never thought I'd find myself in this kind of situation, but I'm not unhappy.  Is Malice really a good name for a mother?  I asked Lowin, and he smiled and said that it was one of his favorite names, so of course it was.  That made me happy.

We're living with the black cloaks.  We had feared that they died, but we stumbled upon their village not long after we disposed of the body of the shadowlyn.  A great many of them did perish in the storm, and on the vicious rocks, but all the females survived, and a fair number of the males, including Liet.  They welcomed us with open arms when we found them.  With their help we've built a cabin for ourselves and another for Silver, who has stayed with us the entire time.

I don't think we'll ever leave this land.  There is too much to lose, and nothing to gain.  Kay has had trouble with her memory, but she remembers us.  She remembers Wisp too, and the day that Wisp was killed.  Those memories trouble her, as well as the memories of Lucidil, and being turned over to the Hungering.  She still tosses and turns with terrible nightmares.  Other than that, she is a wonderful, bright girl.

Lowin smiles a lot.  I remember most of my time with him, and he's never smiled as much as he does now.  I know he misses our friends, and that he carries a lot of guilt over all that has happened, but Snow was right.  He does deserve some happiness.  I'm glad that we've finally found it.