The Chaos Blade

by Phineas

Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17
17 18 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 Epilogue

Prologue

She screamed. Mixed in the cry was frustration, exhilaration, pain, and victory. The child slid free of her womb, coming to rest fully in the hands of the midwife that served her. She was Kalista Risingmoon, wife of the brother of the King of the Elves.

The healer chanted and a numbing coolness spread over her, soothing the fires that burned within her. The baby, a boy she noticed immediately, was toweled dry and placed in her arms. She smiled at it, elated in the absence of the pain and the pressure she had endured. The newborn baby looked around curiously, making no noise but clearly aware and healthy.

"Kelnozz," Kalista whispered. "I name you Kelnozz Risingmoon, nephew to the King and son of the mightiest elven warrior Viconia has ever seen."

"I see great things for the babe, Milady," a man said, coming from where he stood nearby. He, Kalista, and her husband, Myragordamar, were old friends. Now he was an advisor to the King as well as herself and Myra. "Many hardships await him, but his future will be filled with greatness if he overcomes them."

Kalista frowned, she wanted no hardships for her firstborn. Nonetheless, great responsibility and great power could not be wielded without proper tempering. "Leave us please, I wish to be alone with my son."

The healer looked at her, surprised at her proclamation. He bowed his head respectfully and gathered up his religious items, leaving the room on the heels of the midwife and her assistant. Narellin waited until they left then looked upon mother and son a final time. He nodded and smiled at her. She knew what to do.

Narellin had only just returned to his offices when his assistant gestured to him anxiously. Smiling, Narellin pulled him aside and inquired as to what had him so exasperated.

"Milord, General Myragordamar has returned! You wanted to be notified when he arrived. His armies rode through the gate an hour ago."

Narellin's dark skin paled as he pondered the news. Finally he smiled and thanked the man, then dismissed him. He turned and rapidly strode out of the room heading towards the gate of the palace to find his long time friend.

News at the gate was of the worst sort for him. He turned rapidly, the messenger already forgotten, and headed briskly towards Kalista's chamber again. He reached up to rap on the door when he heard the angry voice of Myragordamar from within.

"My own wife, betraying her kind! What right do you have to this dishonor?" Myragordamar shouted, his muffled voice easily carrying to Narellin.

Narellin pushed open the door and stepped in. He and Myragordamar had known each other since boyhood, centuries long past, and together had met Kalista. It had been an obvious and instant matching in the partnering of Myragordamar and Kalista, her sorcery augmenting his unmatched prowess with a blade in battle. Off the field of battle they supported each other as well, quickly falling in love and letting the natural tide of things carry them away.

"Peace my friends, what troubles you?" Narellin said, forcing a calm mien.

Myragordamar turned to face him, his expression livid. "You! Do you know of this? I return early to find my wife performing dark rites upon my newborn son! She would turn him into one of the forsaken ones that have turned away from the glory and the brotherhood we have!"

Narellin shook his head and looked at Kalista briefly, meeting her pain filled eyes. He blinked once, and she nodded, knowing the course that they must take. Narellin turned back to Myragordamar and shook his head again, feigning surprise. "I knew nothing of the sort! Are you sure of this? How did the campaign go?" Narellin tried to change the subject long enough for he or Kalista to come up with a possible justification. The elven general shook his head and looked away out a window over the graceful arches of the palace and the city below. He stared out the window for a long moment before he answered. "The battle went well, if you can call brother slaying brother a good thing. I have battled all things this world can offer, from demons to dragons, yet none leaves the wound in my soul that slaying my kin has done to me. I fear that even should those who have turned to the darker ways be destroyed or return to us, the damage done to many of us is to great to recover from."

"As for her," Myra gestured towards the woman who was wrapped only in sheets and clutching his son on the bed. "Do not forget that whenever one who has been corrupted is found, I am the judge and executioner. From having seen the foulness of their magic countless times I am forever stained. I can not forget, no matter how long I may yet live. Do not doubt what my eyes have seen, Narellin, you know me to well for that."

Narellin nodded. He understood all to well the lure of power that the dark ways promised. He was a wizard, a master of the arcane arts, the very manifestation of power that the rebels sought."I had but one thing to look forward to when I returned... the love of my good wife and the hope that I would arrive in time to witness the birth of my son," he continued. "But what do I find? My son is born and she is consecrating him to the dark powers that the traitors have turned too!"

Myragordamar turned to her and glared at her. "How long has it been? How long have you played me the fool? How many lives have been lost because you knew my heart and my strategies I would take into battle?"

She shook her head, tears glistening on her cheeks. Kelnozz was cradled tightly against her breast. The baby stared alternately at the sources of noise, trying to reach it's first bit of understanding.

"I know this much, I interrupted your dark rites and will spare the child because of it. Your treachery can not be forgiven, however much I wish it otherwise." Myra strode forward to her bed and pulled Kelnozz from her, prying the hands of the woman who had become a stranger to him from the child. Kelnozz still did not cry out, but instead watched the events unfolding about him.

"Narellin, my oldest and truest friend, take the child please. Make it well and see it gets a proper nursemaid."

"What will you do, Myra?" Kalista moved back and forth on her bed, her eyes wildly jumping from one man to the other and then to her son. The sheets, forgotten, fell about her, entangling her.

"The King's law states that any who practices the dark rights is guilty of treachery and must be slain." Myragordamar said, his voice flat and emotionless.

"You would murder your own wife?" Kalista said, staring at him. She knew the penalty for her actions, but the consequences had seemed so unreal.

"My wife has already been murdered by the insurgents that spread the poison and lies of the dark ways. I do not know who you are," he stated just as flatly.

The tears stopped flowing from her eyes then. She nodded slowly, resigned to her fate. "Treat your son well then, Myra, for he has a powerful fate before him."

Myragordamar looked out the window again, clearly upset at the choice forced upon him. It was more then just the King's law, it was his own as well.

"Myra, I have a suggestion."

The elven general turned to the wizard, a brief glimpse of hope crossing his features. "Speak, Narellin, this moment is very bitter to me and I would have light words to sweeten it."

"If it is as you say, that your wife was assassinated long ago, then this women who is before you is no threat. Send her away, exile her to a secret place where she may do no harm and no harm will come to her. Your wife was beloved by the people, let them mourn her loss and let them celebrate and cherish her...your son."

Both husband and wife looked to the wizard, Myra with his face tight with controlled emotion, Kalista with a stunned expression. Finally Myragordamar nodded, his decision reached.

"Go, Narellin, take my son from here. See to it that my personal guard is sent, I have a long journey ahead of me," the elven champion said.

Narellin bowed his head slightly and whisked Kelnozz out of the room, taking the newborn with him to his own chambers. On the way he sent word that Kelnozz's personal guard were to attend him in his wife's chambers, for something fell was amiss. Back in his own offices he locked himself in his room and stared down at the babe in his arms.

"It's too late to finish the spell your mother began, child, but let me see if there is anything I can do to prepare you for your future," he said, smiling triumphantly. "Perhaps some day, when you are grown and see the natural way of things, we can go and find whatever prison your father places your mother in and free her. Oh, and don't worry about your father, he'll be dealt with soon enough."

Narellin talked quietly, for his own benefit more then child's since Kelnozz was far to young to remember or understand the words. Narellin then began chanting, invoking his magic to determine what he might yet do to the babe. Freshly born but strangely quiet and complacent, Kelnozz chose this time to begin to cry. He kicked out and thrashed his arms as best as his infant muscles would let him, visibly and aurally upset at the magic being gathered about him.

Chapter 1

Fresh from a battle the young woman glanced around at the strange setting she was in. It was night, but the stars and the full moon shone brightly upon the lagoon she found herself in. Tropical as well, from the feel of it and the silhouette of the palm trees surrounding the beach she was on.

Yamara glanced down at herself. She was a mess. She had no idea how many months or years it had been since she had taken a proper bath. She had always maintained her hygiene as best she was able, but the thought of a quick swim in the nearby water had her warming up inside. Never mind how vulnerable it might leave her, at that moment she did not care. She needed to wash away the stains under her fingernails and under her skin one way or another.

Yamara's armor and clothing was dirty and in need of mending. Her situation was not one that offered such amenities, however, so instead she simply let it fall to the sand unceremoniously. She stood naked on the unknown beach and wondered if she should have felt at least a small amount of trepidation. She shrugged for the benefit of no one other then herself. She was to drained to care what might come after her.

Yamara looked out over the lagoon. The faint light from the cloudless sky painted a faint picture of two islands, one closer and the other further out, but both fairly sizeable. She held no illusions as to her ability to swim out to one of the islands. Even the closer one was several hundred yards distant and she had never been that strong of a swimmer.

Instead she walked forward until the water lapped over her feet. It was warm and refreshing. She found myself sighing softly as she let some of the tensions that had been building up inside of her since my bath flow out of her. She glanced around. It appeared she was the only one in the grotto. Such a beautiful and peaceful place yet she was the only one in it. She shook her head and chuckled. As far as she knew she was the only one on this entire world. A ridiculous thought, but she entertained it anyhow.

Another glance around, wondering if maybe there was somebody hidden spying on her naked body profiled by the moonlight against the darkness. Her modesty was normally nothing so much as a lack thereof, however. Still, she felt a race of excitement at being so exposed in the strange environment. She shook it out of her head and waded into the water, letting the warm waters coax her further and further from shore.

Before she knew it, she was swimming. Powerful strokes that seemed to renew her instead of draining her. The water was salty, but not nearly as much as she had expected it to be. Her buoyancy in it helped keep her arms from tiring, but she soon started fearing she would get herself lost in the near dark.

She swam in place, treading water so she could get her bearings. She glanced around and saw how much closer the island was. Glancing back she did a double take to realize she was at least half the distance to that island. She took a quick stock of her endurance and decided that she had more then enough. She swam on.

Before she knew it her hands dug into the sandy bottom. She put her feet down and walked out of the surf, breathing hard but feeling alive. She stood on the sandy beech of the island and marveled at the distance from the shore of the land that she had swam out from. She could have grown concerned about that, but she was beyond caring at that point.

She had no idea where she was and no idea where she was headed. Yet, in spite of that, Yamara knew where she needed to go. Without weapons, clothing, or armor, she walked silently forward on the pads of her feet into the trees. Her path, as always, lay ahead of her.

She climbed higher and higher on the small island, always going up when a choice presented itself. The light had long since faded behind me but she somehow knew where to step and what not to walk into. Soon she crested the top of a rock and looked around, knowing she could go no higher. She was on a rocky crest overlooking the grotto. The other island was still nearly twice the distance from her as the shore with her worldly possessions on it, and she was more then a little relieved to feel no urge to head there. She settled down on the broad expanse of what felt and looked like weather-beaten rock, sitting in a thoughtful pose and staring into the blackness of the water below.

She fell so deep into her thoughts and memories that she lost track of not only time, but also her whereabouts. She was reliving those final moments again, tears of sadness leaving wet trails down her cheeks. Gone this time was the unrelenting guilt. In its place was only sadness but also a feeling of acceptance. Brina had forgiven her. Brina had confessed herself to her. They had truly understood one another at the last, and as she thought about it, had another fate awaited them there was no telling how messed up things might have become between them.

Then she noticed for the first time the light below her. A single light, glowing softly but steadily, was moving through the trees. She watched intently, feeling certain that it was no threat. She was merely curious. Something made her feel safe in a way that nothing else had ever done. She felt that it was bad for her simply because her senses would grow dulled if she spent to long there.

She heard a woman curse then. It was distant and she could not pick out the words, but the tone left no question as to the gender. She smiled softly and rubbed the tears away from her cheeks. The light moved closer and she had to reposition myself on the edge of her overlook to see it. She was on her hands and knees looking down the thirty feet that was the rock face on that side when suddenly the light changed directions. It started coming straight up towards her.

Yamara's mouth fell open in surprise. The woman rose out of the trees with nothing to propel her and no means of control. A ball of glowing light was held in her open palm, her other hand was at her side. Her feet were as bare as Yamara's, but she wore a loose shirt made of blue silk that fell loosely about her and clung to her curves. Crimson lace about the deeply plunging neckline and the sides completed the shirt, and matched the crimson trim on the black skirts that fell to her ankle. Her hair was as black as her skirt and shimmered in the light.

Yamara's gasp of surprise changed direction then. She was still surprised by the strange woman's magical ascent, but now she was gasping at her beauty. Her wavy black hair framed her nicely tanned face and fell to her shoulders. She smiled at Yamara and stepped forward when she was at her level, putting her feet on the rock and letting her spell dissipate.

"Hi, I'm Alesha," she said, offering Yamara no chance to recover. Her hand was extended. Yamara climbed to her feet quickly and shook her hand, forgetting completely about herself. Alesha's eyes wandering over Yamara's body, examining her in a way that left her feeling vulnerable and mildly turned on at the same time. She blushed slightly under her scrutiny in spite of herself.

"I'm sorry, I've just been alone here for a very long time," she said, noticing Yamara's slight discomfort.

Yamara waved it away and asked, "I was up her looking for some peace and quiet, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Oh, you were? I'm sorry," Alesha said, looking disappointed.

"Wait a minute, you've been alone for a long time? How long?"

Alesha's expression brightened slightly in the pale moonlight. "Many years," she said. "A great many years."

Yamara filed her answer away, ready to think about it later. Then her curiosity get the better of her. "With your magic you can leave this island, can't you? Why make a hermit of yourself."

Alesha smiled sadly. "You have no idea, do you? How did you come here?"

Yamara shook her head, a tinge of sadness dulling the edge of her curiosity.

"Sorry, none of my business I guess," Alesha responded. "To answer your question, this world is dead. I am the only person that lives here. I was imprisoned her a long time ago, that is why I am lonely."

"An entire world with no people on it? No humans, elves, dwarves, or anything else?"

Alesha nodded. Yamara took a deep breath and tried to decide if that was for the best or not. She would be safe from any of the calamities that seemed to befall her around other people, at least. Still, as much as a loner as she was, she was not sure she could survive without others.

"You did not come here of your own volition then?" Alesha tried again, hoping to break through Yamara's defensive mask.

Yamara was having none of it. "Imprisoned, you say?" she asked, Alesha's earlier words suddenly flashing back to her and saving her from reliving her own memories so soon.

Alesha gave her a shrewd look, her smile fading for a second. Then she laughed rather harshly. "Alright, fair enough. Why should you tell me anything if you don't know anything about me. Have a seat and let's do this then."

Alesha sat down on the rock beside her, pulling her skirt up to avoid tearing or snagging it. Yamara watched her and noticed her very faded and worn her clothing was. She was mildly irritated at how she had invited herself to her private moment. Then Yamara let out her pent up breath and sat down facing her, ankles crossed in front of her and her knees on the ground. Yamara made no move to cover myself, trying instead to make Alesha uncomfortable with herself exposed to her so openly. Alesha's smile and wink instead served only to infuriate her.

"So talk," Yamara said gruffly. If she had offended her she showed no notice of it.

"This world is my prison," she explained. "I was put here because this is the only safe place for me, short of killing me. I was a bad girl."

Given how she had found Yamara directly in her hidden spot and used what seemed like powerful magic to do it, Yamara was not inclined to disbelieve her. Still, she seemed harmless enough. Then again, So had Brina before she had been twisted into that hateful thing she had become.

"I sold my soul to the devil," Alesha told her after a moment of introspective thought. She offered a bitter smile and followed it with, "it seemed like a good idea at the time."

She had piqued Yamara's interest there, and the way in which she tried to lighten the conversation the blond woman appreciated. "How did you manage that?" she asked her.

Alesha looked at her, appraising her for a moment. Finally, having made her decision, she plunged on. "I was a fool. Simple enough. I was in over my head and I wanted to help out the men I admired and even loved. The only way I could do it was to accept the candy a stranger offered me."

Her analogy baffled Yamara, but the context was enough for her to reason it out. Yamara wondered at how she could have let herself get in over her head enough to take and survive the dangerous trek she claimed she had.

"I'm from a boring world with a lot of technology but no real beauty or magic. Mankind has all but killed nature there, and even humans grow docile and tame in spite of trying to kill each other over stupid reasons," Alesha explained.

"Humans always find stupid reasons to kill each other," Yamara offered. It was true enough. After all, she had even done her share of killing for no good reason. Yamara shivered and hoped that she had washed her hands of it. Then she gritted her teeth and vowed that she was finished with it. There were better ways to live and she owed it to myself, to Brina, and to Evart to find those ways.

"I suppose they do," Alesha agreed. "But anyhow, some magic spell went wrong and summoned me from my bathtub to Viconia. The wizard ended up dead thanks to the two I mentioned, and they took me under their wing and helped me out. I had to learn how to do everything in a new world, it was scary and exhilarating. Till we got separated and one of my protectors was hurt and I had to make myself useful."

Yamara nodded, it was an interesting story and other then her being helpless and useless, not terribly different from Yamara's own world-hopping. She even felt that she knew how she had gone down the "wrong" path. "So you made a deal with a demon to help your friend out?"

She nodded, sighing slightly and looking out over the water of the lagoon. "Long time ago, 80 years or so now, I've lost count."

Yamara's eyes widened. "80 years? That's a long time to be stuck in one place. Especially to look as young as you do."

She smirked. "Yes, immortality is a blessing and a curse. Do you have any idea how boring this place can be after a while? I've done it all here: fights in the arena, served beer and food in the tavern, even spent my time in the brothel as both customer and employee. It gets boring quick when you know the walls of your prison."

"Immortality?" Yamara asked carefully. Only very powerful beings that dealt in magic made claims such as that. Elves, though long lived, still had the decency to die at some point.

"Yes, my gift left me untouched by age."

Yamara glanced around. It seemed large and filled with places to explore, but she knew better. She nodded her head after a moment, signaling her understanding to Alesha. The raven haired beauty smiled sadly.

"I haven't seen my jailer in years now either, at least 20 or 30. I wonder if he has forgotten me." Alesha's voice caught in her throat a little at the end and she looked away again. If nothing else, it fit with her story about loving the men she had journeyed with. Obviously the man or men who had imprisoned her here were one and the same.

"That long, perhaps the worst has happened... perhaps he has died?"

She chuckled, still looking away. Her hand brushed her face, certainly wiping tears away, before she looked back. She had a wry smile on her face. "No, he's an elf, and no ordinary one. I don't think he can be killed, at least not by anything Viconia has to offer."

Viconia was clearly the world she spoke of. Another one Yamara had never heard of. And apparently the elf she spoke of was far from ordinary himself. "Even elves can die of old age, but 20 years is not so long to them."

Alesha nodded. "On Viconia elves do not die of old age. I thought all elves the same, but if you know otherwise then I will take you at your word. Kelnozz was around 5000 years old when I last saw him. I hate to admit, after all this time, but I miss him still."

"And without his pardon you can not leave here?" Yamara asked her. Alesha looked at her and shrugged. "I think your love is misplaced, but I am no expert in affairs of the heart."

Alesha shrugged again. "So then, that is my story. You sound as though you have one to tell as well.

Yamara looked at her, studying her carefully. They met each others gaze, not challenging either but also not backing down either. Yamara nodded after a long moment. "Alright, I suppose you've earned it."

And so she told her. Not all of it, but enough for her to understand. From the beginning to the present, including the sordid details of her relationship with Brina. Yamara tried to shock her a few times, but to her own surprise Alesha was nonplussed by any of it. Even her meeting with Dagrazt, the Dark Lord of Malatoria, did little in the way of putting Alesha off balance. Yamara learned more about Alesha in the telling of her tale then she did when she had told Yamara hers. Yamara also learned that she had an old soul and had seen far more she had. Alesha had trafficked with great things, greater then Yamara had imagined, and she thought she had seen it all.

It was only a matter of time, really. After the great disclosure they had both made, though Yamara's seemed far greater to her, they were both feeling a little open and vulnerable. Before Yamara's story was even finished Alesha was holding her hand. Shortly after, their lips were together. Thing progressed naturally then, and for the first time in a very long time, Yamara knew the pleasure of the release that only another women can give. And again and again. It was easily the next day before they returned to the beach where Yamara's clothing remained on the sand.

The two girls spent much time together, becoming fast friends quickly. They both had their mood swings, but they helped one another forget about them and move on and survive in their harsh but beautiful surroundings. During one of Alesha's she again expressed her desire to escape the abandoned paradise, but did not think she had the strength alone. Leery, Yamara nevertheless asked her for details.

Alesha told Yamara of her sword then. Of how with it she had managed incredible amounts of power, using the sword as an antenna or conduit to tap into the magic around her. With her sword she felt she would have power enough to escape and be able to command strength enough to be left alone wherever she chose to go. Viconia was forbidden to her, that much she knew, but other worlds existed. Other worlds where her past would be unknown. Other worlds where she could live as she wanted and be left alone. It made Yamara think of returning to Evart, but she dashed the thought quickly, such a thing was not possible.

Yamara could empathize with her, all she had ever wanted was enough power to be left alone. The abandoned Eden they were in would be perfect for her except she now found she craved the occasional contact with other sentient beings. Kelnozz had told Alesha she was forbidden to leave the world without his pardon, but no such thing had happened to Yamara. Yamara had taken so much from so many people she felt it was time she gave something back. She offered to do her this favor, to retrieve her sword for her.

Alesha told her then of her world and of who had it when last she knew, as well as how to find him. The rest was left to Yamara. A new quest and a new stairway in life to climb, Yamara left soon thereafter, stepping through a magical gate that Alesha opened for a brief period of time with her magic.

She appeared in the dark again, though the smell of rotting garbage and the noises of the bad sections of a city assaulted her and reminded her of her childhood. She shook her head and glanced around, immediately unfamiliar with her surroundings. Even the buildings looked different to her. They were made out of small rectangular red stones that she had never seen before. Nearby was a green bin forged of steel that was the source of the worst of the smells that assailed her. She shook her head again at the oddity of it all and moved down the alley cautiously into the new world beyond.

Chapter 2

All he ever asked for in life was for help in trying to prove that money alone could not make him happy. Thus far, he had failed miserably to prove that simple truth. It was a common myth middle and lower class people told each other and themselves, though deep down nearly all of them yearned for it. It had taken Eric many years of hard work to accomplish it, but now that he had enough to live his lifestyle quite comfortably, he had no intentions of ever losing it.

Originally a computer geek with an athletic side and a passion for motorcycles, he had turned his knowledge of computer lore towards programming. Designing systems able to outperform those in place, Eric's software package acquired first a single state contract, then others followed as soon as they were able to do so. The purpose of the software was running the lottery games for the states that were his customers. Now, some 7 years into it, Gamers, Inc. possessed 39 state lottery contracts and was looked at very favorably by the remaining 11 when their current contracts ran out. Even other countries around the world had expressed interest, a fact which caused more then a few ulcers to the managing staff of the other big fish in the international lottery pond.

At the age of 34, Mr. Hunt could have retired if he chose. He chose instead to continue working, an ethic he instilled into himself less then 10 years past, but one that had served him well. It was this work ethic applied in other areas that kept him in top shape, regularly playing tennis and hockey, as well as lifting weights and eating healthy. Perhaps his greatest accomplishment, were any to ask him, was that he had managed to remain single throughout his life, in spite of a couple of close run-ins with ring-crazy women.

Speaking of crazy women, he glanced over at the one lying beside him. After a particularly fulfilling bout of totally raunchy and obscene sexual acts, they had collapsed on the bed. Eric thought that the girl had dozed off, but he was not sure. His own mind had wandered, going over everything from the upcoming roller hockey game his team was supposed to play in a few days to the board meeting he had planned early next week at work. Now he took a chance to admire the woman laying beside him.

They had met at a club, one of the many he occasionally frequented when he was in the mood for some companionship. Neither one showed any interest in the dance floor, instead she merely slid into the seat across the table from him and looked at him challengingly. Eric had been surprised at her audacity. Then, meeting her gaze, he had been more surprised at how she radiated raw sensuality. It was only a matter of time then. She showed no interest for the usual fencing match that most women played when it came to finding a bed partner. Instead she took the offensive and before he knew it, they were back at his place.

Now her short blond hair was tussled by their lovemaking. Her eyes were closed and her mouth opened a slight bit as she breathed regularly. Taller then most women at 5 and a half feet, her green eyes had pierced him earlier that night with an intensity that had surprised him. He guessed her at being in her early to mid 20's by appearances, but after having spent some time with her, he suspected she was older then he had first guessed. Nonetheless, her skin was soft and smooth and nicely rounded. Being a reasonably charming and attractive man himself when he put his mind to it, Eric had dated better looking women, but there was something about this one that attracted him to her. 'C' cup breasts and a waist that was perhaps 30 inches, he had to remind himself to keep this one at a distance. As much as he felt himself drawn to her, he felt something was strange about her other then her accent (which he was unable to place). He had learned years ago to trust his instinct.

It was years ago indeed that a great many things had changed for him. He had met first two men that had claimed to come from another world. One a mountain of a man named Garrick who possessed the strength and ability to do things that Eric was reasonably certain were impossible. The other was a very tall black man by the name of Kelnozz, who was no slouch when it came to muscle tone either. Both seemed largely ignorant of technology, and to back up their stories they wielded medieval weapons with a proficiency that Eric was certain no one else on the Earth could match. Garrick had claimed to be a former God of the world they insisted they had come from and Kelnozz a dark elf.

Eric had gone with them on their mission, being their transportation and guide to America. They had quickly learned the English language and had even taught him a bit of theirs, though both claimed skill in many languages native to their world, Viconia. More importantly, they had taught Eric some great lessons about being a warrior. Not merely a sword or gun wielding soldier, but a person who did whatever was necessary to succeed in life. Being a warrior had only a little to do with being armed and taking the life of another. Instead it had to do with having the desire and the ability to fight for what was necessary.

In what seemed a short time they had accomplished their goal, which was to capture an ungodly beautiful woman that had come from their world to Earth in an effort to raise an army of followers and conquer not only the Earth, but also to return and rule Viconia. As part of the terms of her capture, she had been forced to release her followers from the magical thralldom in which she held many of them. Magic, on Earth. Had Eric not seen it with his own eyes and felt its effects he would never believed it. The thoughts of Alesha still haunted his dreams. Nightmares really, the eroticism of some of them frightened him anymore, for they always ended in death and worse.

But triumph they had. In addition to the occasional training sessions Garrick or Kelnozz gave Eric, they also gave him Alesha's sword. The sword was priceless in and of itself. The crosspiece was made of ornately carved ivory and trimmed with a metal that Kelnozz had told him was mithril. Having no idea what mithril was beyond that in popular Tolkien fiction, Eric just shrugged and accepted the explanation. The blade was black, though not merely a fire tempered black iron, but made from some metal that he had never seen before. It shined brightly whenever light hit it, yet when you stared into the blade it seemed as if you were looking into a void. A fuller ran along the length of it, adding rigidity and allowing it to be withdrawn from a body with greater ease. The final thing of interest about the short sword was the leather hide that was wrapped about the ivory hilt. Eric had never seen it's like before, and Kelnozz had assured him it was griffin hide. He had accepted it as well as anything he had encountered then, for the thought of a giant beast with the body of a lion and the wings and head of an eagle were no stranger then anything else he had seen at the time.

Kelnozz had also claimed it was a very powerful magical weapon, and that he should take care with it. Other then going through katas with the sword, Eric had never found any use for it, save as a beautiful decoration piece. According to his one time companions, many beings were trapped within the sword, including a powerful demon that Eric had seen them banish. Sometimes he caught himself daydreaming, wondering if any of that had really happened or if he was really crazy and had dreamed it up. He knew such was not the case deep down in his bones, but that did not stop him from wondering.

Picturing Alesha, the self appointed high priestess of the cult they had put an end to, Eric felt himself growing aroused again. The woman possessed a dark beauty that was so intense he felt as though he would cut himself upon her. Well toned but not overly muscular, she had nonetheless impressed upon him in the very short time he had seen her that her strength was not to be underestimated. Of course, her strength was the least of her weapons. Trained to a level of expertise with the sword he now owned by Kelnozz himself before she had been seduced by evil forces and coerced into abandoning the dark elf, she was almost as deadly with a blade as Kelnozz or Garrick. But even worse was her magic. She possessed incredible powers, seemingly able to shape the forces of nature and magic around her as she wished. Smiling ruefully, Eric imagined her most dangerous weapon of all was her simple beauty, able to enslave men by their hormones with a simple smile or flash of her skin.

Eric rolled over then looked back at the woman sharing his bed that night. Yes, definitely a keeper for a sportsman that wanted to keep what he caught. Eric regretted having to tell the girl in the morning that a relationship between them was not to be. The things she had done in bed that night had truly blown him away, both literally and figuratively. He had never known anyone more skilled, though he suspected Alesha might have given her a run for her money. Another thing that he found strangely unique and captivating about her was her name, Yamara.

Eric's eyes trailed down her body in the dim light let in by the large windows that made up one of the walls in his bedroom. He had run into her at a popular nightclub. At first he had dismissed how quickly they had hooked up as mere coincidence and perhaps his own charisma, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to him like she was the aggressor. In the few hours he had known her, he had yet to see her with the benefit of a full light. Still, he suspected perhaps that was for the best. Dim lighting and beer goggles, both helped men and women alike in their nocturnal pursuits of companionship.

Not as voluptuous as he would have preferred, she was nonetheless endowed correctly and in all the places that it mattered. Eric's hand reached out and gently slid along the curve of her thigh and along her trim belly. She woke instantly, her eyes focusing on him with an uncanny alertness. His hand stopped and he was about to withdraw it when she smiled faintly at him and glanced down to see his hardness. Her smile grew then and she rolled towards him onto her side. Unlike him, she possessed a single item of clothing still, a thin silver chain about her neck upon which hung a good sized ruby shaped like a teardrop.

Eric opened his mouth to say something but she stopped him from talking by placing her fingers over his lips. Her piercing green eyes bored into his, a twinkle of amusement in them. She slid down the bed then, pulling her fingers away from his mouth and lightly scraping her nails across his chest. All to soon and not soon enough she arrived at her destination. Eric felt her hot breath blowing lightly across his manhood, teasing him to greater heights. Then her soft lips brushed against him, just rubbing along his length lightly. Eric groaned. He did not know what it was about this woman, it had been years since he had been as active in a single night as what she had coaxed out of him, yet here she was again driving him to a pleasant distraction.

Her lips sank lower, kissing lightly now along the base of his shaft and then the fleshy pouch below that housed his sensitive and overworked balls. He sucked in his breath as her mouth opened and her tongue began to lightly lick him. A little suction from her mouth and Eric found himself clenching the sheets with his hands. He wanted desperately to drive himself into her mouth, but even more he wanted her to continue the delightful torture.

Yamara licked all the way up to the tip of his cock then, a string of pre-cum attaching her lips to him when she pulled away. She dropped her head back to him and swirled her tongue around his head, agonizing Eric further. Then, in a moment of rapture for him, she sunk his titanium phallus into her mouth until the tip of it bumped against the back of her throat. Fighting the natural urge, she swallowed repeatedly to further stimulate him. Eric groaned and felt his hips unconsciously buck up at her. She looked up at him and smiled around the raging cock in her mouth, with over an inch and a half of him still not covered by her hot lips.

Then just as suddenly, she pulled away from him. Eric gasped at the cool air and looked down at her. She had retreated further down, licking at his sack again. She forced his legs apart and lay between them, worshipping his crotch with her tongue. Then Yamara sank down even further, her tongue licking a teasing trail behind his sack towards his ass. Eric's breath caught in his throat as she flicked her tongue against his rectum, spiking his already aching libido into overdrive. He moaned lightly and noticed that his muscles in his body had been clenched tightly enough that he had begun to shake lightly.

Yamara's hand lightly slipped up and down his shaft, milking the pre-cum out of it while her tongue continued to tease his asshole in a way that Eric could never remember any other girl doing. Sure, he had seen it in porno's and read about it, but he never expected to meet a woman willing to actually have a go at it. He had done it once or twice to ex-girlfriends himself, and they certainly seemed to enjoy it, but the favor had never been returned nor did he really think much of anything about it.

Then it was over. She slipped back up and greedily sucked his cock into her mouth. Eric tried to form words but only managed to grunt on his first try. Before he could try any more one of her hands found its way up to his mouth and two of her fingers slipped inside, distracting him with its unspoken request. A prisoner in his own bed, he went along and focused what few still functioning brain cells he had on devoting proper attention to her fingers. Down below Yamara continued to sink her head up and down on his penis, bottoming out on every plunge with his cock grounding out against the back of her throat.

Yamara stopped pistoning her head then and Eric realized that his hips had been thrusting up at her mouth in time. One of her hands, the one not in his mouth, wrapped around the base of his cock and actually encouraged his behavior. He doubled his efforts, driving his cock into her mouth in an effort to sate the incredible lust he was feeling. For all intents and purposes the rest of the world had ceased to exist, all that mattered was Eric fucking Yamara's mouth.

He was almost there then. He could feel the gripping sensation down in his balls and knew that with a little bit more effort he would succeed. A tiny part of consciousness remained that told him to warn her of his impending explosion, but when her hand slipped away from his cock and began to fondle his balls the last resistance he had to animalistic behavior left him. Just to be safe, her fingers slipped out of his mouth and her hand cupped itself over his mouth to prevent him from speaking anything more then a mumble - not that he had the presence of mind to do that anyhow!

Eric's loins clenched and unclenched, driving orgasmic shivers through him as the process began. He grunted behind Yamara's hand as his semen rushed through his cock and into her mouth with powerful splashes. His hips continued to thrust into her mouth and his cock continued to bottom out against the back of her throat on each thrust throughout, but the tight seal she maintained around him prevented any of his seed from escaping.

Eric felt certain that he had never came so much or so hard in his life, and the slightly swelled look on Yamara's cheeks seemed to confirm the fact. He finally collapsed back on the bed, his muscles exhausted and spent. Yamara continued to suckle at his cock, sending oversensitive shivers through him. She swirled his sperm around his cock, refusing to relinquish her seal. Eric would have chuckled if he had the strength to do so.

Then the strength came to him. All of a sudden something seemed out of place. The light in the rim, dim as it was, seemed to dim further. A quick glance down at Yamara and Eric saw that she had noticed something as well. Nothing had changed, but yet something had. Her eyes darted around and her head pulled up off of his still hard cock, not spilling a drop in spite of the distraction. Eric rolled off the bed then, reaching under it and pulling out a pistol he kept for just such an emergency. Yamara rolled the other way, dropping into a low crouch and narrowing her eyes as she searched for the unseen threat they both sensed.

They did not have to wait. Between one blink of the eyes and the next three people appeared at the far end of the room. Dressed in black clothing, they looked around the room and the one in the middle focused his gaze on the sword mounted on the wall above the head of the bed.

"What the fuck do you want?" Eric asked. Yamara remained motionless, blending into the shadows so well Eric forgot for a moment she was even there.

The man smiled darkly. "You have something that belongs to us, we'd like it back." The two men to either side moved out a bit, taking up flanking positions on the bed. None of them had any visible weapons, but the long black coats they wore could have easily hidden any sort of firearm.

"See this?" Eric asked, holding his pistol up to get their attention. "I'm not entirely sure how you got in here, but if you want to avoid a trip to the hospital or morgue, you'll leave the same way by the time I count to three."

The man chuckled softly and the his two flunkies just grinned as if Eric had told a good joke.

"One!" Eric said, somehow reminded of his childhood where his parents had threatened a spanking had he not done what they wished by a three count. Unlike his parents, he had no intention of delaying the time from 2 to 3 by adding in two and a half, two and three quarters, etc..

"Two!" Their grins did not diminish any.

Eric opened his mouth and let loose the final number, squeezing the trigger that he had sighted in on the apparent leader of the would be thieves. "Three!"

The gun flew out of his hands then, crashing into one of the tempered windows and causing it to shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. He scowled and understood what had been bothering him. He glanced at Yamara and had to take a moment before he found her. She blended into the shadows beside the bed and the wall so well he had began to wonder if he had been abandoned.

"I've dealt with your kind before," Eric spat out, standing up. "I helped banish your queen, in fact, you're no match for me!"

The leader of the thugs grinned and his eyes flashed red for a brief moment. If he was hoping to distract or frighten Eric he was disappointed. Eric leapt onto the bed and grabbed the sword on the wall. He triggered a hidden button that released the catches on the mount, allowing him to wield the extremely well balanced weapon in front of him. Turning back around he saw that he was alone in the room. More then just saw, he felt that they were alone again.

"Yamara!" Eric said, wondering if she was a part of it too.

"I'm here," she said, moving away from the now open window where the pane of glass had shattered. Eric looked at her through narrowed eyes, had she not drawn attention to herself, he might not have seen her at all. He prided himself on being an observant and perceptive person and to not be able to see someone in the same room as him bothered him immensely.

"Are you all right?" He asked, moving closer to her, the sword still in his hand. It fit his grip well, warming to his touch. He had always marveled at how natural the short sword felt in his hand and now was no exception.

Yamara nodded, her arms coming up to fold across her chest in a deliberate move to try and conceal her nudity. Too deliberate, Eric thought. "Who were those people?" She asked.

"I was thinking of asking you the same question," He replied. Eric came around the king sized bed and gently grabbed her arm. He pulled her over and sat her on the bed, watching her closely all the while. She went along willingly enough, but something about her attitude just did not sit right with him.

"What's this about a queen you helped banish?" She asked him when he glanced at the broken window before speaking to her again.

Eric stuck his head out the window, looking down at the ground seven stories below. He owned the penthouse apartment in the building. Owned the entire building, actually, a few upper level management people lived in apartments in the building, as well as a few other people who just rented. None of the non-employees knew that he owned it, of course.

Somehow three men had managed to not only break into a fairly secure building, but they had also gotten past the human guards stationed on the ground floor, the stairwell, the elevator, or the roof. Not to mention they had then somehow managed to send his favorite pistol flying seven stories to a metal crunching grave below.

"Damnit, I really liked that gun. Expensive getting all those modifications done to a Glock 23." He muttered quietly before turning back to Yamara. "Well dear, this queen was a self styled queen. More of a high priestess really. But you see, I have a feeling you already know this and I'm preaching to the choir."

Her mouth opened to protest but he waved her silent. "Here I was thinking what a great person you were and how I was sorely tempted to break my no commitment rule and try to turn this into something other then a night of incredible sex. Rest assured love, that's not a concern I have anymore. Now my concern is what you know that I need to know and whether or not you should even walk out of here."

Yamara dropped her hands to her sides in indignation. Then she realized she was naked and her hands and arms once again tried to cover herself, though this time she was even more modest, one hand dropping in her lap while the other clutched at both breasts in an attempt to conceal them.

"That's a good act, Yamara," Eric admitted grudgingly. "But you're not blushing at your nudity. That and your eyes have yet to leave mine, it's quite disconcerting really. A guy could get lost in those beautiful eyes of yours, as I'm sure you well know. In spite of this assault, I can't help but still find you damned desirable." His body betrayed him and confirmed his words by causing his cock to throb partially to life at the sight of her trying demurely to cover herself.

"Lights - full!" Eric cried out, stepping away from the window. The computer controlled systems he had programmed himself and installed in his penthouse kicked on, lighting up all the recessed lighting in the place. Yamara blinked hurriedly, trying to adjust her eyes to the new lighting. Her gaze shifted away from Eric then, and he found himself thinking a little more clearly as she tried to recover.

Eric stood next to her and stared down at her, forgotten sword hanging from his fist at his left side. "Tell me Yamara, what should I do with you?"

She looked back up at him, squinting a little in the light but otherwise recovering quickly. Eric looked at her face and noticed for the first time some odd faint patterns on her skin. He leaned closer to her and took her chin gently in his hand. He studied her skin for a bit then raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"You've got an even tougher job convincing me now then before. You've been ridden hard and put away wet I think, and more then once. Lots of old wounds and scars, but they're really hard to notice. That's either damned impressive medical work or there's a lot more to you the meets the eye."

She looked up at him silently. Then her eyes glanced down at his cock, which was behaving itself rather nicely at the moment. As she glanced at it she licked her lips subconsciously. Eric narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he could not help the thrill of excitement that caused his manhood to pulse upwards.

"Stop that!" He demanded pulling her head back up towards his. Yamara's hands fell back to her sides and she looked up at him expectantly. There was a new look deep in her eyes this time though, and it was one of annoyance.

Eric sat on the bed beside her and sighed. "All right, out with it, what's your story?"

"Aren't you worried they might come back?" Yamara asked, her voice no longer as sexy as it had been up until then.

"Ha! Nice try! You get me worried about that and then offer a 'safe' place to take me too, then we get jumped there and they get this sword back. I don't think so toots, I'm not going anywhere with you without a lot of confirmable explaining from you."

The look of annoyance passed her eyes and made its way onto her face this time. "I don't know this place very well at all, so anyplace 'safe' you want to go is entirely up to you. Just seems stupid to me to stick around in a place where the security has already been breached."

Eric eyed her suspiciously then glanced away at the sword still in his hand. She was on his right and the sword in his left hand. He raised it up and looked at its blade, wondering if he really was staring into infinity within the blade or if it was merely an illusion.

"Why do they want that sword?" Yamara asked after a moment. Eric started, realizing he had started to zone out.

"Magic," he muttered, half expecting her to scoff and half expecting her to jump at the confirmation and try to wrestle it from him. "It belonged to Alesha, their high priestess. She supposedly captured a lot of souls in it, souls which are still trapped in it, including a powerful demon that she made serve her."

She nodded, accepting what he said without any complaint or derision.

"Ten years ago we - that is Kelnozz, Garrick, and I - found her group of followers and did our best to put an end to it. Unfortunately, I guess we didn't get all of them. Kelnozz defeated Alesha while Garrick took care of the crowd of blood hungry worshippers, I helped wherever I could, mostly against Alesha, though I did have a nasty encounter with the demon I mentioned. I've been keeping my eyes and ears open and I guess their nasty little sex and death cult has sprung back up down in Florida. It's not growing as fast or as powerfully as it did before at least, so apparently Alesha is still under parole," Eric explained, remembering parts of the fight where Garrick was outnumbered 40 to 1 and still managed to hold his own against the crowd. His injuries from the fight against Alesha and Talifernon the demon ached in spite of the many years during which they had healed.

"Were you there then or did they recruit you since then?" Eric asked snidely. He figured she would have not even been a teenager back then, but depravity knew no limits.

Yamara frowned. "No, ten years ago I was being trained by a different group of evil men, sorry to disappoint you."

"Ah ha!" Eric said. "So you admit to coming her with a nasty purpose in mind then!"

Yamara sighed. This seemed like a simple assignment in the beginning. Find this Eric Hunt and get into his penthouse so she could steal the sword. She had opted to use her feminine wiles to get there and had found that the men on Earth were a far cry better in bed from the ones on the worlds she had visited, or at least Eric was. She had planned on giving him nothing but good treatment for all the pleasure and simple courtesy and respect she had received, but now he was pushing things the wrong way and getting on her nerves.

"Look, I have had nothing to do with these cultists you're talking about. I've only seen about 23 summers, so that would put me pretty young to be a full fledged raving zealot, don't you think?" She spat out, looking directly into his eyes.

Eric grunted and glanced at his alarm clock. 4:30 on a Saturday morning. 23 summers was an awfully odd way to tell your age. There was definitely something odd about her. "Explain the scars."

Yamara's gaze dropped for a moment, then she looked back up. "Like I said, I was trained by evil men. You make a mistake, they punish you."

"Then why are they only visible if I look really close?" Eric asked. "I have plenty of scars and their fairly obvious. There's the surgery marks in my leg from a bad jump over Iraq, there's the bullet hole in my right calf, there's the shrapnel mark on my chest and above my left temple, there's the knife cut on my arm, there's countless childhood incidents - one involving a chain saw... they all show up pretty clearly, don't you think?"

"As much as they feel pain helps instruct, injury hinders. They always had me ready for another lesson the very next day," Yamara said, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"So you've been trained, eh? Trained to do what and by whom? Lots of evil men in the world, babe. Most of them, in fact."

"Lots of things. It's not important really. Look Eric, I'm sorry about what's happening to you, you clearly don't trust me anymore and I assure you that I was genuinely interested in you. Things are not working out as I had hoped they would though, so it's up to you as to what you want to do. Either let me go or figure something out, perhaps it's not to late. Like I said, I'm far from helpless, if you want my help, perhaps we can figure something out if the offer interests me enough."

Eric chuckled. "That's a good one. I try to be open minded but it's the middle of the night and in spite of how great the night started, it's taken a turn for the worse. Really down the shitter, in fact. What say I just decide you're against me and I would be better off ramming this pig-sticker in your gut?"

Eric stood up and faced Yamara directly, his sword held threateningly between them so that with a thrust he could make good on his threat. Yamara glanced at the blade and then again at his manhood briefly before looking up at his face. Her expression was extremely calm. So calm it unnerved him a little.

"You could try, but you would not do it," she said.

"And why is that? Hon, from where I'm standing, aside from the fact that you're a great lay, I have known nothing but trouble since meeting you!" Eric said.

"I misspoke myself. You could try but you would not be able to do it."

Eric laughed sharply. "I'd happily fuck the brains out of you the rest of my life, my dear, but I'd just as happily simplify my life and not have to worry about you sneaking up on me."

"Then try," Yamara looked almost bored. Almost. He could tell that her stance had changed ever so slightly. She was poised now, in spite of looking casual. Eric was a veteran of more then just the campaign with Kelnozz and Garrick, he had also served for six years as a United States Air Force para-rescue trooper, which was one of the more secretive special forces branches out there. Para-rescue was used for recovery instead of surgical strikes though, but they still saw plenty of classified action.

Eric was debating doing that very thing when that tickle on the back of his neck kicked in again. He looked over and there were all three of the bad guys that had shown up earlier, once again standing a few feet away from the foot of the bed. He turned and dropped into a crouch to center his balance.

"Enough of this shit, if you fuckers want this, come and get it!" Eric roared, charging at the three of them. He aimed for the man on the left, who was the closest to him. His only thought as he charged was that maybe he should have put some pants on.

Eric veered to the right and engaged the man in the middle a second before the guy on his left would have met him. This threw the man on his left off, allowing him to slip past him and lunge at the leader. The leader parried the blade to the side with a saber that he pulled out from somewhere within his coat. The man on his right drew a wicked looking dagger and moved to try and get behind Eric then, being careful of the king sized bed.

"Lights - off!" Eric cried out, dodging a thrust from the saber and trying to get his back to a wall. The room was plunged in darkness then, giving Eric what he thought was the advantage of knowing where everything was. He heard a grunt and more glass breaking, then felt something tug at his right arm above the elbow. He slid away from it to his left and lashed out with his sword, feeling it bite into something. The hiss of pain he was rewarded with let him know that he had scored a hit.

A few moments later his back bumped into a wall, not the one made of windows fortunately. Everyone's eyes had adjust by now so the temporary advantage of darkness was now gone. Only two of the attackers remained and another pain of glass was broken out. The leader faced off against Eric, but Yamara had managed to get captured by the remaining thief. Or perhaps they had planned it that way.

"Give us the sword and we let the bitch go," The leader snarled at him, his left hand across his body holding onto his hip where a slowly spreading dark stain could be seen. Eric grinned at his discomfort and ignored the blood running down his own right arm.

"Kill the bitch, I don't care. I think she works for you anyhow," He responded, calling their bluff.

Turned out it was not a bluff. The man holding Yamara acted on his own initiative and tried to plunge the dagger into her chest. She twisted and lashed out though, causing his attack to partially miss. The point of his dagger grated along her bottom rib then slipped off, plunging into her belly. She whipped around quickly, the dagger coming out of her wound before he could do any more damage with it. Her foot came up and around in what Eric recognized as a roundhouse kick. The man stumbled backwards, spitting out teeth. In his defense he had kept the dagger up in front of him and managed to cause a deep cut in Yamara's calf. Another half step backwards and he shook his head and spat out a stream of bloody spittle. Yamara advanced, ignoring her injuries. She kicked low, striking the top of his front foot and drawing a grunt of pain from him. He tried to draw his leg back but that unbalanced him and Yamara reached out with her hands and grabbed his dagger wielding arm. Her foot slipped behind his back leg as he tried to retreat and she deftly tripped him to the floor, falling on top of him and keeping the dagger held between them.

"Oops," Eric muttered, distracted by the ruckus the two were causing. The leader capitalized on this, lunging forward with his saber and very nearly emasculating Eric. Eric jumped back and twisted his hips, drawing only a slight scratch on one thigh from the attack. He landed off balance and tried to cover it up by lashing out with his sword. The attempt failed simply due to bad luck. The cultist's rapier, which had been coming in for a lunge at Eric's chest, was foiled by the nearly blind swipe. However, the same swipe foiled it by putting the back of Eric's wrist in the way of the saber. Cut nearly to the bone, the short sword dropped from Eric's suddenly numbed fingers.

Jumping at the chance to recover the artifact for their religion, the cultist dropped his saber and grabbed up the short sword. He grinned happily and was met by Eric's right fist crashing into his nose. Stumbling backwards, he tripped on the bed and lay there for a second while blood gushed from his broken nose. He rolled off the far side of the bed and regained his feet rather clumsily. Yamara stood up over the dying cultist that had stabbed her, her legs a little shaky. She held the dagger in her hand and glared at the leader of the invaders.

Eric grabbed up the dropped saber in his right hand. It felt awkward there since he was so badly out of practice, but he had taught himself to use a weapon in either hand years ago. He stalked forward towards the cultist, intent on extracting vengeance for the attack on his penthouse and person.

"Drop the sword or die!" Yamara hissed. Clearly the shock of her wound had worn off and the pain had set in. Eric had noticed the stinging in his own arm from his earlier wound and was concerned about the numbness wearing off on the wound in his wrist.

"No way, he dies regardless, dropping the sword just makes it a little less painful for him," Eric growled.

The cultists eyes widened a little as he came to fully understand his predicament. He began muttering something then under his breath. Eric was clueless as to what he was doing, but Yamara seemed to have a good idea. She threw her commandeered dagger as he finished his spell. The dagger bit into the cultist a fraction of a second before he disappeared with a slight pop as air rushed in to fill the vacuum of space that he had just occupied.

"Shit!" Eric grunted. He let the saber dip down and looked over at Yamara. She was holding the hole in her belly and slowly sank down to sit on the bed and look at him.

His training took over then. Never forgotten, the para-rescue trooper in him came to the fore. He quickly walked over to her and pulled her hand away from the wound. Glancing at it while blood seeped out he gritted his teeth and cursed. "Sorry about that, guess I was wrong." He muttered.

She chuckled weakly. "Nice to know a man can admit to being wrong."

Eric felt like an ass, to put it mildly. Not only had he lost the sword to the cultists, but on top of that, he had damn near gotten Yamara killed. For that matter, she was not far from it still. He put her hand back over the wound and said to her gently, "Keep pressure on this, we've got to get to a hospital right away!"

Then he remembered the window. "Shit, cops probably already on their way." His brain fired off several ideas rapidly, each of which he rejected. Then he began to become aware of his own wrist. The cut was bad but not life threatening. He still had almost full control of his hand too, so any damage to his tendons was minimal as well. He gripped it tightly with his right hand while he tried to brainstorm a way out of this.

"My purse," Yamara whispered, her voice quiet with controlled pain. "Get me my purse."

Having no better idea, Eric left the bedroom to find where Yamara had left her purse. It was with her clothes in the living room. He grabbed it up and returned to the bedroom, dumping it's contents out on the bed beside her. She reached for a small flask with a hand covered in blood, either hers or the cultists, he was not sure.

Eric pulled the cork stopper out of the flask, wondering at the odd shape and size of it. To small to hold a pint of liquor, it was also cylindrical instead of curved. She took a few swallows of the contents then offered it to Eric. Her eyes were closed and Eric decided that the cops be damned, she needed a hospital. He took the flask from her and put the cork back in before tossing it on the bed.

"Phone - 911!" Eric called out to the computer. Immediately they heard a dial tone and then some ringing over the hidden speakers in the penthouse.

"Drink," Yamara said, her voice still quiet. Eric looked at her and saw that she had picked up the flask and offered it to him again. He frowned and popped the cork back out. He took a sip, knowing that alcohol would hardly be beneficial to either of them at this point. He shrugged and drained what little remained in a single swallow.

It tasted like cool refreshing water with a hint of a fruity taste to it. As he liquid went down his throat it soothed and relaxed him. The feeling spread more slowly as time passed, but by the time the emergency operator had come on the phone Eric had noticed that the wound on his arm had clotted and the gash in his wrist had begun to clot and heal up some as well. He looked at Yamara's belly and saw that some of the skin over her rib looked a little pink at the edges, the color of healing flesh. The bleeding had slowed some as well, but by no means stopped. A hospital was still necessary for her survival, but at least now he thought that she would probably make it there.

Chapter 3

Eric had an air cast over his wrist - the damage had been a little more substantial then he had first thought - and a bandage over the 15 stitches on his arm. He walked down the hall at the hospital pondering the latest events. Two of the three invaders to his penthouse had been slain by Yamara and himself, although he had to admit that Yamara had actually scored the kills. The police had found nobody. Neither on the street below nor in his apartment. Blood yes, lots of blood, and not all of it Yamara's or his. That alone seemed to be what had saved them, though the detective in charge was still not cutting Eric any slack.

More appropriately, Yamara was being cut no slack. She had no proof of citizenship. No drivers license. Not even a birth certificate. Fortunately, she had been injured seriously enough to be unable to answer any questions yet. Eric had informed the hospital that any bills her care racked up should be charged to his account, and he had stopped in at least twice daily to check on her. Her strange accent would not help matters when the time came for the police to talk to her. Eric hoped to get to her first, for in the back of his mind he had began to have a sneaking suspicion.

He entered her room after showing his identification to the policeman stationed outside of her room. He sat down next to her bed and looked at her. Her eyes were open, a sign he took to be a good one since she had seemed to steadily worsen since being admitted to the hospital. Open yes, but focused no. They held a glazed look and beads of sweat broke out open her forehead as her body struggled to fight. Eric knew the doctors were mystified by this, though they were hesitant to admit it to him. Her wound was serious yes, but it was clean and her symptoms seemed to be those of someone suffering from a major infection.

"Yamara, what's wrong with you, why aren't you getting any better?" Eric asked softly, staring into her eyes. She twitched a little at his voice and blinked a few times in an attempt to focus on him.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she was able to make any sound. Then finally she gasped out in a ragged whisper, "poison!"

Eric leaned back, shocked at the word. She tried to say more, causing him to lean back in quickly. "Must... leave."

The three words had exhausted her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed. Eric ground his teeth in frustration and looked at the machinery around her bed. Everything looked right, from the IV drip to the monitoring equipment. He had seen far worse set ups in his time in the military, yet he had never seen anything like this. Then again, he had to remind himself, he had only been certified as a paramedic, not a doctor, and even that was years ago.

After a few more minutes of pondering, Eric decided on a course of action. Resolved, he got up and walked out of the room. He nodded to the cop outside the room and kept going, reaching for his cellular phone the moment he got out of the hospital.

"Cowboy," He said into it after a few minutes of pleasantries with his friend from his time in the Air Force, "I need a favor."

*****

At 19:00:00 hours that very night, or 7:00 PM to the average person, Eric did his best to look nondescript in the stolen nurses uniform. He pushed a seemingly peaceful and borderline unconscious man in a wheelchair down the hallway. The man wore a hospital gown and looked the part of a critically ill patient with the IV tubes going into his arm and waxy pallor of his skin.

Moments before reaching the police officer - a different one then the one that had been posted earlier today Eric noted - the man in the wheelchair broke into action. With a manic cry of glee, he burst out of the chair and tore the IV tubes out of his arm. Turning to Eric, who appeared stunned by the sudden movement, he leapt at him. He landed, fist leading the way into Eric's face. Eric fell back and stumbled to the floor, blood already flowing down over his face.

The man stopped and looked around then, crouched low with his eyes wide an his breath coming quickly. The cop was slow to react and only now was he reaching for his pistol. The former false patient growled at him and took off running back the way Eric had brought him. In a true defender of the public fashion, the officer took off after him. A few other nurses and orderlies trailed along, intending to aid in whatever way they could.

Eric slowly picked himself up, shaking his head and fighting the urge to sneeze the blood out of his nose. A nurse came over to help him but he just waved her away. "I'll be alright. Get that crazy son of a bitch!"

She nodded and took off after the rest of the crowd, leaving only a few stunned onlookers only now coming to their senses from the sudden events. Eric pinched his nose shut to try and stop the bleeding and grabbed onto the wheel chair with his other hand to steady himself. He moved over to the closest door and moved through it, pulling the wheelchair behind. It just happened to be Yamara's room.

He moved quickly then, stopping only long enough to step into the bathroom and glance in the mirror to see how much of a mess his blood nose had made on him. Sure enough, his shirt had several dark splotches on it. At least his nose had already stopped bleeding so he did not risk much more in the way of a mess.

Eric returned to the bed and quickly checked Yamara out. Her leg was bandaged and not a concern to him, but her belly wound did bother him. He pulled the sheets away from her and saw how securely bandaged it was. The bandage appeared fairly fresh, so he left it on without checking it. He grabbed a couple of cotton swabs out of a drawer and carefully removed the IV. Then he turned off all of the monitors, hoping nobody at the nurses station noticed right away, given the recent excitement that surely had them talking. Besides that, the nurses station was down the hall a ways at a junction, hopefully they would not notice. Eric pulled the sensors off of Yamara next and removed the catheter from her, wincing as he did so. He had a few unpleasant memories of catheters and did not envy her in the least.

Fortunately for Yamara, she was oblivious to the world. He picked her up from the bed and put her in the wheelchair, using padded Velcro straps to secure her in it. He made certain that her hospital gown covered her from any indecency and slipped back in the bathroom long enough to wash his blood from his face and neck. That accomplished, he prepared to leave but stopped when he remembered her purse and her pendant. He glanced about the room and saw a single closet. Opening it up he saw a small box with her personal belongings in it. He grabbed it and returned to Yamara and pushed her out of her room and headed down the hall towards the elevator.

He heard a commotion from another wing and knew that Cowboy was still leading his pursuers on a merry chase. Or not so merry, Eric thought to himself, remembering his very sore nose. He made it to an elevator without incident and punched the button for the bottom floor, hoping the rest of his hastily planned rescue attempt went as well.

Yamara moaned softly in the elevator. Eric cursed, hoping she would not gain consciousness. His hopes were answered after a few tense seconds as her breathing returned to a deep, regular pattern. It seemed almost healthy to him, healthier then it had been in her hospital room.

When the elevator doors opened Eric half expected to see a squad of cops waiting for him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that there was none. He pushed Yamara out of the elevator and headed towards the emergency section of the hospital. He could not help but smirk to himself at the irony of what he was doing. He pushed her through the busy emergency ward and headed towards the ambulances. Nobody stopped him. After all, where else would you find a paramedic with blood splattered clothing if not the emergency section?

Trouble reared it's head when Eric was transferring Yamara from her wheelchair to the stretcher in the ambulance. He had just began to secure her to it with the straps when somebody came up behind the vehicle and looked in.

"What the hell are you doing? This is my bus, buddy!" the man said.

Eric turned and looked at him. He hopped out of the vehicle and looked at the markings on the back of it while sneaking a quick glance around to see who else had a line of sight to them. "Shit!" Eric exclaimed. "I don't believe this! I'm supposed to do a transfer and I grabbed the wrong ambulance. Sorry about that."

The man laughed good naturedly and clapped Eric on the shoulder. "No problem, my man. Here, lemme help you just swap stretchers with the one you're supposed to be in."

Eric thanked the EMT and they managed to quickly switch Yamara to another ambulance. Eric was amazed at how smoothly he still did things, considering it had been years since he had been in the trauma business. Then again, this was a painfully calm situation here, nobody was shooting at him and nothing was exploding nearby. In a few more moments, Eric was away, driving his stolen ambulance down the streets. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small circuit board with a button on it. He pushed the button and grinned as somewhere back in the hospital a detonator set off a tiny flame that ignited a couple of particularly foul smelling and smoky chemicals. He turned on the scanner in his commandeered vehicle and was satisfied to hear that all emergency traffic was being redirected to other hospitals due to the fire alarm going off.

That was also Cowboy's signal to get out of Dodge. He gave up on the cat and mouse game he was playing in the hospital, which was good because he was running out of places to run. He abandoned all pretense at being a madman and increased his speed, heading directly for a stairwell. In a flash he was through the door and heading up the stairs. He ran until he reached the roof and burst out onto it, noticing the fading light as the sun had begun to set. Grinning at the adventure, he stripped off his hospital gown and slipped on the jeans and black Harley - Davidson t-shirt arranged beside the door. A few more seconds and he had a decent pair of socks and his combat boots on, then he was off at a run again, covering the distance to the edge of the roof where he could drop down onto another of the multi-tiered roofs of the hospital. A few more such trips and he managed to land on the blacktop parking lot, all signs of pursuit lost. He ambled over to where his hog was parked and, with a contemptuous roar of exhaust, road out into the night.

*****

"You son of a bitch, you damn near broke my nose!" Eric said, scowling at a hurt looking Cowboy. For his part, the look was genuine, since Eric had just leveled a punch into his jaw that sent him stumbling back a few steps.

"You wanted it to look real," Cowboy said, massaging the side of his face where the blow had landed. "I think you knocked a tooth loose."

"Serves you right." Eric said, smiling in spite of himself. Cowboy chuckled and glanced over at the brown van parked nearby. Eric had abandoned the ambulance a few blocks away from the hospital and switched to the van in the hopes of making any pursuit, real or imagined, that much more difficult.

"This ain't like you Eric, going all out for a chick like this," Cowboy muttered, heading towards it as his curiosity got the better of him.

"Naw, I owed her. Sorta. I think," Eric said, wondering whether he really did or not. "I'm not to sure about much with her, to be honest, but I do know that I nearly got her killed and I owed her for that."

Cowboy chuckled. "You're always letting broads get you in trouble man, when you gonna learn?"

"You should talk Bill," Eric responded, clapping him on the back and walking towards the van with him. "Remember that waitress in Thailand?" That brought a gale of laughter from both of them. The joke had been on Cowboy, who had been bound and determined to land her in bed that night. Only to find out later that she had been more then just a little waitress... she had been a lot of man too, in all the wrong places!

"Okay," he admitted after they stopped laughing. "But at least I never broke any laws for one!"

"Wrong, my friend," Eric pointed out. "97 in Saudi, we damn near had to scrub the entire mission, remember?"

"I didn't know she was one of the Sheik's wives!" The laughed some more and came to a stop beside the van.

"Okay Cowboy, you may hear some shit over the next couple of days that are way weirder then anything any of us ever came up with. You're the only one of the old boys that I trust to keep your cool here, so just hang in tough and it'll all work out, okay?"

Bill Williams smirked. "Sure thing Eric, try your best. Keep in mind, I'm a biker and you see some pretty weird shit when you're a biker."

Eric nodded, he had ridden with Bill a few times over the years himself and he had to admit, Cowboy had a way for finding some pretty wild times, biker or no. He shrugged and opened up the door on the side of the van. The inside lit up with the sickly yellow light from the dome fixture. Yamara was sleeping peacefully on the cot inside, in spite of her ghastly appearance thanks to the poor yellow lighting.

"Kinda cute, but you've done better," Cowboy said, checking her out.

"She cleans up nice," Eric grunted, stepping inside and moving around to the other side. Cowboy slipped in and shut the door behind him.

Eric rummaged around in the dark and pulled out a penlight. Turning it on so he could see, he opened one of Yamara's eyelids and flashed the light in it. Almost before it had happened her hand gripped his wrist tightly, twisting it painfully and redirecting the light of the flashlight towards the ceiling.

"Shit!" Cowboy said, surprised at how quickly she had moved. "I thought this bitch was almost dead?"

"Yamara!" Eric hissed, ignoring his friend. "It's me, Eric. We rescued you from the hospital."

The grip loosened slowly, and then she let go. In the reflected light from the penlight, Eric saw Yamara looking at Bill and appraising him carefully. "That's Bill, Yamara. He helped me get you out of there."

"Call me Cowboy, ma'am," Bill said, offering his hand. When she did not take it he just shrugged and pulled it back. "Kind of a cold fish for owing us a lot of thanks."

Yamara glanced back at Eric then. He expected her to be frightened and was surprised at what he saw in that brief glance. Suffice to say, fear was not it.

She opened her mouth to speak but only coughed dryly. Eric rummaged around the side of the van for a moment then brought her a bottle of water. He unscrewed the top and raised it to her mouth. She sipped from it carefully, nourishing the water as though she were afraid to spill any. Eric and Bill both noted that she seemed to have a respect for it unknown to most people save for those native to dry and arid climates.

"Take me to the inn named Donnie's Place," she finally said in a thick and dry whisper.

"I got something that'll help that throat of yours," Bill said.

"Jesus Cowboy!" Eric snapped, immediately assuming he was acting true to form.

He held up a small packet of cough drops then and fixed him with a hurt expression. Eric had the good grace to blush a bit and smile. "Sorry about that. You might want to try one, Yamara, they are very soothing."

Yamara just shook her head and continued to drink the water slowly, pausing long enough to make sure it settled. Eric nodded towards the front and Cowboy threaded his way between the seats to hop in the drivers seat. "One first rate dive, coming up!" He said cheerily. Bill always enjoyed hotels that offered both nightly and hourly rates.

*****

Settled into the motel, Yamara's color had already begun to return to her. She moved a little stiffly, but was surprisingly limber. Her first move upon waking was going through the box with her personal effects in it and quickly putting her necklace back on. The rest she seemed to care little about. After some repeated urgings, Eric convinced her to let him check her wounds, which he was amazed to see well on their way to a healthy recovery. When he pressed for some sort of explanation for her remarkable healing, he was met with a stony silence. She was still weak from whatever had poisoned her, but even while weak she was a great deal stronger then she looked, and therefore not a person either of the ex-special forces men intended to underestimate.

After sitting about a bit uncomfortably for some time in silence, Bill broke out a deck of cards and offered a friendly game of poker. Yamara's eyes narrowed briefly before she shook her head and glanced away. Eric shook his head as well and stared after Yamara.

"Cowboy, go take a walk, would ya?" He finally said, wondering if Bill's absence would make Yamara a bit more talkative.

Bill scowled but hopped to his feet and snapped off a clumsy mocking salute Eric's way. He pulled a pack of Reds out of his leather jacket and sucked one into his mouth, lighting it with his Zippo on his way out the door. With the door shut, Eric turned back to face Yamara, who was studying the windows along the back wall of the single room lodging.

"Tell me a story, Yamara," Eric said, "and make it a good one because it's been a lousy week so far."

She glanced back at him and seemed briefly troubled. Then her eyes adopted a cold emotionless stare that he had glimpsed in her a few times before. He was about to give up and follow Bill outside when she closed her eyes and nodded her head. "I think I'm only 23 years old," she said, her voice soft and tired, a betrayal to the hard nature Eric had glimpsed within her.

"Only 23 and I feel so old..."

Chapter 4

Within the mountains known as The Periphery few civilized settlements exist. By and large huts and tribes of orcs, ogres, light elves, and other foul natured creatures were the norm. A few human and demi-human cities existed after the slaying of Ancaruin and defeat of Alesha's armies, but as time progressed and the hardships of living in a land ruled only by the savagery of it's indigenous inhabitants became apparent, they retreated to the outer lands of Belurian once again. Once a great city of evil, Mezarbolle had been besieged by the alliance of dark elves, dwarves, and men. Capturing the city and rebuilding it, it had been named Caradrin, dwarvish for Halls of Light. A task force was set to guard the city and ensure its survival. A noble gesture but with the hearts of the goodly soldiers yearning for home, a gesture doomed to failure.

Inside of a year Caradrin was broken, betrayed from the very ground it was built upon by light elves forcing their land drake pets and steeds to tunnel up from caverns below. Mezarbolle returned. With its return also returned a powerful wizard named Narellin Kinslayer to lead them.

Narellin had been Ancaruin's chosen representative and leader of the armies once Alesha had disappeared. His agenda had always served himself first, of course, and with self preservation always foremost on his mind, he had been able to escape the defeat that Ancaruin and the majority of his army had suffered.

Now, some 60 years later things had progressed to the point where few things happened within the Lost Lands that Narellin was not aware of due to his network of patrols, spies, and magical means.

One of those very patrols had an up and coming wizard amongst its ranks by the name of Darakor. Darakor Kinslayer, the only surviving child of Narellin Kinslayer himself. Darakor had once had a younger sister, but surviving and growing up in Mezarbolle was ofttimes only accomplished by the most powerful of children. His sister, Elvanshalee, had been practicing with her magic and disintegrated herself, for all that remained was a few locks of hair and her clothing. The death of Elvanshalee had seemingly been the last straw that destroyed their mother's mind. She had always favored the girl in a way most unusual for a light elf. Last Darakor knew his mother would sit for hours in their garden or in her rooms, staring into space. Darakor, fortunately, took after his father and had none of his mother's weaknesses, as far as he could tell.

In the slow and dangerous times that passed the coffers of any successful band of patrolling light elves grew full. Darakor's band more so then most, for Narellin had managed to arrange for only the most proficient of companions for him - both to help ensure his survival from whatever they might encounter and to challenge him at every opportunity to make him constantly aware of the nature of his race. Their names began to be feared as they occasionally raided beyond even the Periphery.

Then one day they encountered a single traveler. A single dark elf, walking apparently carelessly through lands where his kind were slain on sight. His nonchalance took all of them off guard, though they would not admit it. Darakor, unlike his brethren, felt the need to learn. He approached him while his companions set themselves up in concealment to ambush their hated enemy.

"Halt, dark one!" He cried out, magically floating down from a tree. "Surrender yourself to us and perhaps we will kill you quickly!" It was not what he had wanted to ask. He had wanted to question the elf as to what could possibly drive him, alone and unaided, into the lands of his enemies.

The trespasser looked at him, the fire in his eyes striking through to his heart in such a way that he knew he would never be the same again. "Why?" Was all he asked, though the emotions in his voice were so many and so varied that Darakor felt small and petty. He could sense a sadness in him, a loneliness, and a feeling as though a great weight rested upon him.

Darakor opened his mouth to respond when one of his companions stepped beside him from concealment behind the bole of a nearby tree and said, "There is no why! You are our enemy and you will die!"

From the trees two bows twanged with released arrows. A second flight followed before the first had reached their target. The dark elf moved with a speed, skill, and fluidity that left Darakor amazed.

A long sword appeared in each hand almost magically. Thinking back on it, Darakor realized that the dark elf had indeed drawn them from their sheaths, but the speed with which he did it was unnatural. While this happened, he also stepped sideways and avoided the first two arrows, arrows that should have pierced his heart. The second pair of arrows would have missed also, but to prove his point, his swords flicked out and shattered them in mid air.

The elf beside Darakor charged forward, katana raised for a killing stroke. The black skinned elf looked at him, then dropped to one knee and plunged one sword backwards. Darakor's remaining companion's invisibility spell faded as the grip on his dagger relaxed. He fell to the ground, sliding off the impaling blade.

All of this happened so quickly Darakor was stunned. He finally gained some sense and tried to summon some spells to mind, but found he could not. He stood there in shock, certain he was witnessing his doom.

The light elf that had pronounced doom on the trespasser reached him and tried to deliver the killing stroke with his katana, but had it blocked by one of the dark elf's swords, then beaten out of his hand with the other sword. None of the patrol's members had ever seen a finer swordsman then the suddenly disarmed elf they traveled with before that moment. Now Darakor knew he had seen the finest swordsman he would ever see, regardless of how long he lived. His final comrade drew his companion sword but by the time it had cleared the sheath, his head was on its way to the ground.

Darakor suddenly realized that he was the only one left. He fell to his knees. The dark elf walked to him then, twin swords hanging loosely at his sides. He stopped about a yard away from the kneeling light elf, silently appraising his. Darakor finally looked up into his eyes and saw the powerful fire burning within. He knew then that what they had encountered that day was no mere mortal man.

"Before you kill me, there is one thing I must know," Darakor felt himself speaking but was unsure of where the words came from. "Who are you?"

The dark elf tilted his head back and actually laughed at that point. There was sadness and bitterness in it, mixed with some loathing and hatred. He stopped laughing finally and looked at Darakor again, tears in his eyes.

"I asked you why because I want to know why it is that your entire race can be so evil? Why is it that they can turn from us, your dark skinned kin, and hold such hatred when all we ever offered was kindness and love? Why is it you can kill your cousins gleefully? Why did your kin slay my family when I was not even a score of years old? Why did your race stand beside the source of corruption and evil that was Ancaruin and strike down so many of my friends and loved companions?

He stopped a moment to stare into the surrendered young wizard's eyes, penetrating them and giving him a sense of overwhelming age and power. "Why didn't you join your companions and attack me? Your spells may have made the difference. You might have made it possible to overcome me. Why didn't you do that?"

Darakor thought quickly as to what answer he could come up with that might spare his life. Grasping desperately, he opened my mouth but stopped when he was again caught up in his gaze. The words that came out of his mouth then came from somewhere he did not know of. "I knew that there was more. I knew that you were special. I knew that my companions would die, and I knew that I had to learn whatever I could from you. I've never seen anyone as skilled with blades as you are. In my youth I practiced long in the arts of the warrior, but magic turned out to be my calling. Seeing your own art at work twisted my heart and made me wish to renew my interest in it. In the scant 5 minutes I have known you, you have made wish to change everything that is my life around, and I don't know why, I just know that it is true."

The dark elf stared into him, searching for truths and whatever else he do not know. How long they remained there neither truly knew, it might have been hours, it might have been days. At long last he sheathed one sword then held the other one at Darakor's throat.

"Wait," he gasped, prepared to feel the bite of steel.

"Are you a coward at the end, in spite of what you have said?" He asked out of curiosity instead of disgust.

"No, I accept whatever must happen. But first, I beg you to tell me who you are?"

The dark elf smirked and lowered his sword. "I am Kelnozz Risingmoon."

Darakor's jaw did not drop, but it should have. His vision failed him as his mind struggled to come to terms with the person standing in front of him. Finally, he was able to speak. "You are a God!"

He shook his head and chuckled bitterly. "No, I am not. My companions chose to ascend, but I chose to remain."

To say that Darakor's head was swimming would be an understatement of epic proportions. "But, you were one of the heroes that slew Ancaruin!"

"And I seek him still," he said enigmatically. He sheathed his other sword and turned his back on him.

Darakor remained kneeling, watching him walk away. Was this it? Was his life to be spared? He did not understand what was happening. After a moment of hesitation, he leapt to my feet and followed after him. Darakor opened my mouth to say something but Kelnozz beat him to it.

"Why do you wish to come with me? Isn't it enough that I have let you live? I don't have time to nurse a light elf who just realized he's not the Gods' chosen one."

"I want to learn!" Darakor said quickly. "I want you to teach me of the things you have done, the things you have seen! I want to train and practice with weapons and warfare so that I can not be afraid to do what is the right thing. So that I do not need to rely on others and to be afraid that I will be defeated when I try to be just. You have somehow opened up my entire life and laid it bare before my eyes! I have seen the things I have done wrong and I wish to make amends! I ask you to please help me begin the long atonement I have ahead of me."

"Long before you were born, probably your father as well, I was a child who had seen fewer then a score of summers," Kelnozz growled at him, making Darakor shrink back in renewed fear. "I loved my father very much, but he had to go off to war because of your kind. Elves who would be rulers of Viconia. Light elves." Kelnozz spit on the ground in contempt.

"Before he left me, my father apologized as he always did when he was called away. He told me that he would make it up to me someday, somehow. Not that day, but someday, and asked for the patience in me to give him the chance to do so. I always honored that request and waited patiently.

"Then one day a messenger came to our estates. My father was dead, killed by a light elf! Not any light elf, but his closest friend before your people left mine!" Kelnozz glared at him, daring him to speak, to move, to even breathe. His knuckles were white and his eyes burning fiercely with hatred. Finally, seeing no response coming from Darakor, he spun about and stalked away without further comment.

Kelnozz was quiet after that, but he continued to walk. Not knowing what else to do, Darakor fell back a few steps but stayed with him. He continued to walk until he stopped to rest that night, with the light elven straggler sitting at the edge of his camp, watching. Finally, much calmed down and with a wild idea in his mind, Kelnozz spoke again.

"If you truly wish to learn from me, you must first abandon your magic. The allure of the power of magic is one of the greatest things that caused the exodus of those who would become light elves. What I teach has nothing to do with sorcery, it is purely mundane skill and skill alone. I can not make you unlearn what you already know, but know that if you choose to follow me, you must never use your magic," Kelnozz said, still staring at the logs he had gathered for a campfire.

Darakor nodded, wondering how he would be able to do what he asked. He realized that he would have to find a way, and if worse came to worse, he would always have the knowledge in the back of his head. Like Kelnozz had said, Darakor knew that he could not truly forget what he had learned. "I will do that."

"Then start a fire for us, it grows cold."

The light elf looked at the fire and moved closer. He opened his mouth to speak an arcane word out of habit, but stopped himself just in time. Kelnozz had made a good point in asking that simple task. Darakor looked at him sheepishly and said, "Do you have some flint and steel?"

He nodded towards a tinderbox sitting next to him. Darakor moved over to pick it up then looked at the collection of logs. "We're going to need some kindling, those logs are to big to catch."

"What have you got on you?" He asked the former wizard, staring pointedly at his backpack.

Darakor's eyes squinted in thought. All Darakor carried in his backpack was standard traveling fair, a blanket, some rations, some scrolls, and his spell book. Sighing, he took his backpack off and opened it up. He pulled out all of his blank scrolls and made is if to put them under the logs. Kelnozz stared emotionlessly, observing.

Once the scrolls had been placed under the logs, the would-be-warrior examined the job and realized that not enough heat would be generated to ignite the logs. Irritated by how simple this could have been, he turned to Kelnozz. He looked at Darakor a moment, unfazed by the conflicting emotions playing across the young elf's face. Then his gaze shifted. Darakor followed it and felt his throat dry out quickly. They were looking at his spell book.

Darakor did not dare to glance back at him. Instead he closed his eyes and took several deep centering breaths. When he had calmed myself, he knelt down and placed his hand on the book. Faint power thrummed from within it at the touch of its author and owner. Steeling himself, he lifted it and carried it to the barren campfire. Knowing the powers contained within, Darakor merely placed it on top of the pile of wood and stepped back. Every muscle in his body fighting with him for the years of study and research he was about to allow to be destroyed.

"That should work," Kelnozz said, his voice cutting through the night and bringing Darakor back to the present.

"It will not burn," Darakor explained, my voice small and scared. "It is protected from all but the most powerful of magical fires."

Kelnozz nodded behind him, unseen. Darakor's breath caught in his throat when Kelnozz stepped in front of him. Darakor stood there watching as the dark elf knelt at the edge of the pit, flint and steel in hand. With one strike a spark hit the papers from his scrolls and caught. Kelnozz stepped away from the pit and turned to watch.

Darakor stared as the scroll burned brighter. The flames spread to the other scrolls that had been placed in the fire and licked at the thick logs. As Darakor thought, the flames were not hot enough to ignite the logs. Then one flame licked at the edge of the spell book. It took all of the light elf's power and control to not rush forward and try to rescue it.

From the single flame that touched it, a new fire began. What should have been impossible was happening. In a few short seconds the spell book combusted. It burned brightly and hot, lighting up the surrounding forest for several dozen feet. With a magical explosion, the book burst open and flames soared into the sky. Darakor could barely feel the heat on his face, so removed was he from what was happening. Then he felt Kelnozz pulling him back.

They continued to watch as Darakor's life's work went up in flames. The twisting and torturing of his soul could not be described with mere words. Suffice to say that in the one single act, Darakor believed that he had allowed who he was to be completely destroyed and his past forever sundered.

Chapter 5

"Where are we going?" Darakor asked, trying to keep up with the brutal pace Kelnozz maintained. Not only maintained, but maintained both noiselessly and without any sign of his passage. It was infuriating to the reformed light elf.

"We should be there soon, I think. A tribe of lizardmen had something that I am after. I arrived at their village to late, it had already been given to a patrol of trolls to return to Mezarbolle."

"A patrol is 20 trolls. Think you and I can handle them without any magic to aid us?" Darakor asked, beginning to doubt the sanity of his mentor.

Kelnozz glanced back at him, a smirk on his face. "You know trolls well enough, they are slow and clumsy, we will overtake them easily. I trust you know how to kill them?"

Darakor grunted. "Aye, fire, acid, or damage so severe that their bodies can not heal. I know them all too well."

"Then ready a torch when we close with them, it should be little different from wielding a sword in each hand."

Darakor shook his head and reached into the pack on his back to make sure he had a torch readily accessible. He had three wrapped to prevent the sticky pitch on the end from getting on anything in his pack, but it was available to him.

It had been scarcely a week since Darakor and Kelnozz had joined forces. They would in mostly silence throughout the day, then break at evening and set up camp. Kelnozz would then begin instructing Darakor anew on the ways of a warrior. Not any warrior either, but rather one who's heart was good and his motives noble.

Darakor's skill grew rapidly. Used to complex motions already thanks to the needs of his spellcasting, he adapted his dexterous finger movements to include the rest of his body. Already Kelnozz judged him more then able to deal with any common orc or human. Trolls, however, were another thing altogether.

Perhaps an hour later even Darakor was able to see the signs of passage that Kelnozz followed. Trolls were large and clumsy, as he had said, and they took little effort in concealing their movements. Inside of another twenty minutes they rounded a hill in he great plains that encompassed much of the Lost Lands and saw a few buildings ahead along the banks of a river. A riverboat was waiting as well. Kelnozz cursed and broke into a trot. After a moment of surprised hesitation, Darakor followed him. He reached into his pack and pulled out a torch to be ready.

"The boat!" Kelnozz called out to him. "Head for the boat!"

Darakor followed Kelnozz, running towards the boat. Figures, some large enough to be trolls, moved about quickly on the large skiff, throwing off lines and hauling up the anchor. Others sat at benches and waited for the captain to bark out the order to row. Four trolls on the dock turned away from the boat and headed towards them, spreading out to prevent them from going around them easily.

Kelnozz put on a burst of speed, surprising both Darakor and the trolls. He was inside a trolls reach before the troll had even drawn its cudgel back fully, one sword slicing deeply into the troll's belly. The green skinned giant doubled over in pain. Kelnozz rotated and sliced down, severing it's head from its neck. His next two fluid cuts dismembered one arm from the now flailing troll and plunged deeply into the back of the troll to pierce its heart. He turned away, forgetting the spasming troll and coming to face the next one.

Darakor saw how easily Kelnozz dispatched the first troll and hoped he could do fractionally as well. He ran towards a troll that lumbered after Kelnozz, intent on coming up behind him and braining him with his large hammer. Darakor gritted his teeth and stopped long enough only to fumble with his flint and steel he had since acquired and send a spark into the torch. It burst into flame and was blown into a larger one as Darakor resumed his sprint to help his newfound tutor.

Kelnozz needed little help, however. The second troll lay down, great gashes in its ribs, throat, and a severed leg testimony to his skill at arms. Kelnozz turned on a third one and easily blocked the crushing blow the troll tried to cleave him in two with using its two handed sword. His swords flicked out, slicing through flesh and muscle with ease.

Darakor screamed loudly to gain the troll's attention that was nearly upon Kelnozz. The troll turned to look at him, surprised at having forgotten him, and was met with Darakor's sword poking a hole in its side. The wound was small and would heal rapidly on the creature, however. The troll laughed and raised it's hammer in one hand. It paused then, noticing that Darakor was a light elf. It glanced back at Kelnozz to reassure itself and then turned back to Darakor, shrugging away its confusion.

Darakor put the behemoths confusion to good use, thrusting up with his torch and poking it in the side. The troll roared in pain at the flames, knowing any wounds caused by fire would heal very slowly, and then roared again as it felt he flames catch. Troll blood was flammable.

The troll turned and ran towards the river, hoping to submerge itself and put the flames out. Darakor was on it's heals, lashing out with his sword and cutting into the humanoid's hamstring to fell it. He put the torch to work again and soon the troll was bellowing in agony. In moments, as the flames spread, the bellows turned to pitiful cries and then nothing.

Darakor remained watching the troll combust, feeling nothing but disgust at the fate of the creature. When he remembered himself he looked about and saw that Kelnozz had dispatched the third one and was heading towards the river where the boat was docked. Or, he realized, where it had been docked. The boat was underway already, the trolls pulling at the oars with their superhuman strength. Kelnozz stopped at the dock and glared after the boat as it headed upstream. His prey had escaped him again.

"Well done," Kelnozz grunted when Darakor joined him. "The others are dead, I think, but you should put them to the fire as well."

Darakor saw the three still writhing bodies that Kelnozz had dispatched and immediately ran over to them. Two of the three seemed on the verge of a final death but the third was slowly regenerating itself. Already the arm was reattaching itself and a new head was growing. He dipped the torch down and backed away from the stench of burnt troll flesh.

"What of those?" Darakor asked, rejoining Kelnozz at the river again.

Kelnozz glanced at the buildings Darakor mentioned: one a house, another a large barn for storage, and a third a tavern and an inn. "Burn them too," Kelnozz stated flatly.

Darakor shrugged and moved towards them. Inside the tavern he could see movement through the shuttered windows. It mattered little to him, mostly these outposts and settlements were stubborn humans, orcs, or occasional light elves. He lowered his torch towards a bail of straw near the edge of the inn.

"Hold!" Kelnozz called out to him. Darakor raised his torch instantly. He turned and found the elf already nearly beside him. Kelnozz reached out and grabbed the torch. He let it drop to the ground and stepped on the flame to douse it.

"A warrior does not spill the blood of innocents. That is the work of murderers and thugs," Kelnozz proclaimed, watching his student closely.

Darakor looked at him, raising an eyebrow in thought. "There are no innocents here," he replied, not backing down. "I do not know the specifics, but either humans to wicked to return to their homes or orcs or even lizard men lie within. Perhaps something else, it is hard to tell, perhaps even others like me."

"If they are like you then that is reason enough to let them be," Kelnozz said enigmatically.

Darakor opened his mouth to ask him what he meant but the dark elf had already turned and was returning to the dock. He glanced back at the tavern and shrugged. Life was cheap in the Lost Lands, those within need merely be thankful that they would survive to find death another day.

"What of the trolls?" Darakor asked, joining Kelnozz.

"They escape today. Perhaps another day I will find them, but it is no matter. Something else to the south and the west draws my attention now, something far greater then this bauble they carry."

Darakor nodded. Occasionally Kelnozz would speak in such a way of the things he sought, but never would he explain himself more carefully. Darakor trusted it would come in time. The fact that he trusted even that much was proof enough to him that he had changed irrevocably already.

*****

They sat around a campfire miles away from the river that night munching on freshly cooked rabbit. Their days practice had long since been over, and that time of the day was typically when they would speak plainly.

"I don't understand today's lesson," Darakor said, having spend much time pondering it. "You slew my companions without hesitation, yet you said if there were other light elves in the inn they should be allowed to live?"

Kelnozz chuckled. "No, young friend, I said if there are others such as you, they should be allowed to live."

Darakor stared into the fire, digesting the words. Finally putting them together he looked up and smiled. "I get it, you mean to say that race is not enough of a reason to slay someone."

Kelnozz nodded and smiled. Thus far Darakor had shown great prowess in battle and his ability to understand tactics, maneuvers, and weapons. It was his moral aptitude that concerned Kelnozz the most. To have him learn that great lesson first and foremost was a stride in the right direction that warmed Kelnozz's heart towards the young light elf.

"I knew another light elf once," Kelnozz said, letting his guard down briefly and remembering the past. "She was a beautiful woman and unlike the majority of your kin. It was because of her that I spared you. Lessons can be learned even from your enemies."

Darakor nodded. "My father told me much the same thing, though his intent was quite the opposite of yours."

Kelnozz chuckled sadly. "Indeed, my own father taught me similarly before he was slain. So different yet so alike."

Darakor glanced sharply at Kelnozz. He had yet to let the secret of his father slip, and in spite of Kelnozz's words and actions, he was not yet ready to trust him with that knowledge. "Tell of your father, he was the great general of the dark elves during the Kinslaying Wars, what was he like?"

Kelnozz met Darakor's eyes for a moment then stared back off into the campfire. "I scarcely remember anymore. My mother was killed shortly after I was born by one of those who-would-become light elves. I was spared only because my father had returned from battle with an early victory and caught the murderer in my mother's room."

"My earliest memories are of him and me sparring with wooden swords. I learned quickly from him, but no matter what I came up with or how good I was, he was always better. I loved him dearly, and promised a bitter end to he who slew him," Kelnozz said, smiling at first until his smile faded at the end into a bitter grimace.

"He yet lives," Kelnozz said, looking at Darakor again. "The man who slew my father. He was as my uncle, family in all but blood to us. He tutored me as a child and was closest to my mother and father both. For untold years he played them as fools, for they never knew the evil they let into their very home until it was too late for them. They should have known, he was a wizard."

Darakor carefully looked away from Kelnozz until the last word was spoken, then he looked back, "Remember your own words, a man should not be judge by his race. Neither then should a man be judged by his calling."

Kelnozz glanced at him sharply. Darakor clearly meant to imply that it was unfair of him to view those who wielded magic as a weapon instead of a sword as inherently evil. He had known a few spellcasters that were not corrupt, but they were in the extreme by far. At the other extreme was Alesha, the human he had mistakenly and foolishly fallen in love with, then had to banish.

It had been many years since he had last visited Alesha. He was not even sure if she was still in the Tavern. So long as she did not return to Viconia he was content to let her live her life. Kelnozz knew that was a lie as soon as he thought it. Damned fool woman and her magic! Had she not made her unholy pact with Bavorish who knew what might have happened? She would be dead regardless, Kelnozz realized. After all, she was a human and centuries had passed.

Darakor's lesson was that magic did not corrupt anymore then a hammer would corrupt a smith. It was a tool. Kelnozz shook his head and sighed, perhaps the young light elf was right, perhaps the evil lies within the hearts of people before power ever touches them.

Kelnozz stared at Darakor for a long moment, then chuckled. "Fair enough, Darakor. Fair enough. Come, enough of this dwelling over a sad past. We have much that needs doing in the present and the future, the path holds only unhappiness. I have spent to much time slaying the traitor in my thoughts and dreams, I will deal with my father's assassin, Narellin, when I must, and not a moment sooner."

Darakor's mouth dropped open. All he had known was that his father had been around since the time of the Kinslaying Wars. He had known his father had been an important man for the light elves both then and in all the millennia since then. He had not known that his father had been the one to assassinate Myragordamar Risingmoon.

Darakor glanced away quickly, then started moving about to get himself ready to lay down for the night. Kelnozz did likewise, assuming their conversation was over and not realizing the extreme discomfort Darakor was feeling.

Chapter 6

Dorn was a weaponsmith. Not only a weaponsmith, but he was also a dwarf. A dwarf with flaming red hair and beard and black eyes. Normally Dorn was an amiable guy, but today, he was in a hurry.

"What's yer hurry?" Dorn's best friend, Dolgen, called out after he had passed him with barely a nod.

Dorn yelled over his shoulder as he puffed along, "I've had me some inspiration!"

Dolgen snorted as he walked down to his own forge. As he passed Dorn's forge he stopped and watched Dorn fire it up. Dorn was working like a man - sorry - a dwarf, possessed. He got his forge up to a proper temperature as his apprentice, Roryn (Dolgen's son), showed up for work.

Dolgen snorted and continued on as Dorn began to work on his 'inspiration'. He hammered and shaped the iron until it began to take the shape of the sword he had dreamed of. The steel seemed to take the shape of its own volition, Dorn's hammer blows only providing the energy necessary for its transformation.

By the end of the day a long sword had been fashioned. Dorn knew it was time to quit for the day, but he could not leave it unfinished. He worked on it the whole night through. Roryn looked at Dorn strangely the next morning as he realized that he had worked the whole time.

Finally, Dorn had finished the metal work. He wrapped the hilt in griffin hide and held it up for inspection.

The sword was as long as Dorn stood tall, and Dorn was considered an average dwarf at 4 1/2 feet. A sparkling ruby was set in the middle of the crosspiece, with a deep blue sapphire the color of the ocean's depths at each end of it. A diamond with a hint of emerald green in the middle graced the bottom of the hilt. Runes of power and decoration covered the length of the blade from tip to crosspiece.

Dorn had also put the usual dwarven incantations upon it, which consisted of preventing it from chipping, breaking, or dulling. But he had not prepared at all for what was soon to become of it.

"Master Dorn, Ye've made a great weapon!" Roryn breathed in awe.

Dorn looked up smiling. He held the blade up high above his head and walked out into the general smithy cavern of the Stoneshoulder clan.

A hushed silence started near him, then quickly spread as dwarves stopped talking to see the artifact held in the air. Dolgen came out of his armory and walked over to where Dorn was standing triumphantly.

"What be its name?" Dolgen asked as he stared up at the twinkling jewels in it.

Dorn pulled it down so he could look at it carefully. His trained eyes could distinguish no flaws within it.

"Other weapons can only strive to be this good," Dolgen prompted the silent dwarf.

"Only one name is fitting fer this blade, Glormindel, 'The Sword'," Dorn said after a moment of deep thought.

Dolgen slowly reached over and took the sword from Dorn, almost reverently he took it. He looked it up and down, studying for even the smallest imperfection. He was not surprised to find none. He also noted the perfect balance and potential energy the sword was yearning to use. The latter seemed to be something he himself was interpreting, not a characteristic of the blade.

"Ye've outdone yerself," Dolgen complimented as he handed Glormindel back to Dorn.

Dorn got little work done the next week, so content was he with showing off his work of art. Finally common sense returned to Dorn and he returned to work. His craft was lost to him now, however, for he had made the mightiest weapon he could ever make. He could not surpass perfection, though he did try in the first few days after the making of Glormindel.

Soon Dorn began wearing The Sword while he worked, trying to get it to inspire him. He soon came to realize that he was finished with his life as a weaponsmith, and that instead of being a blessed artifact, Glormindel had become a curse to him. But still he could not part himself from it.

One day, between mugs of ale, Dorn decided that he must be rid of the work of perfection he had designed. Everywhere he looked he saw someone looking at it with greed and jealousy in their eyes. He took it up to the market in the town of Rifton, which was situated near the crevice in the ground in which clan Stoneshoulder worked.

He set up a booth in the common market with Glormindel being the only item he had for sale. A tall, well endowed woman was the first one to see his booth. She came over to him after catching a gleam from one of The Swords many multi faceted gems.

"'Tis a fine blade you have their, friend dwarf. Would you be willing to part with such an item of beauty?" The blond haired scantily clad woman asked.

Doubt seized hold of Dorn. He suddenly wanted very much to keep blade for himself, even though it was to large for him to wield effectively.

"Ye could not afford it," Dorn scoffed halfheartedly.

"Do not judge me to hastily, my short friend," The women replied, pulling her money purse off of her belt.

"Ten thousand gold," Dorn rashly said, quoting a price even the gods would have trouble meeting.

The woman's eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the exorbitant fee. "Surely you jest!"

Dorn looked at her harshly, "Ye asked fer a price, that's what it 'tis."

The woman swallowed and unhooked her leather bustenhalt, allowing it to slide down to the ground. "Perhaps we could make a deal, say lowering the price for services rendered?" She asked seductively.

"If ye've no money then get ye gone!" Dorn growled at her, beginning to get quite perturbed at the thought of someone taking Glormindel from him.

"I mean to have that sword dwarf, mark my words, it will be mine!" She hissed to Dorn.

Dorn ignored her warning and watched her turn and stalk off through the busy streets of Rifton. He looked down and noticed that she had left her skimpy upper body clothing on the ground. He shrugged and quickly closed up his little rented booth. He carried what little he had with him back to an inn and rented a room for the night. He would decide what to do on the morrow, after a nights sleep.

Dorn opened the door to his room and felt a sharp pain in his back. He turned around and saw the half naked woman from before standing there with a malicious grin on her face. He reached down to grab a weapon. His instinct told him to go with the war hammer he had been trained with all of his life, but some other force made him reach for The Sword.

As his hand closed around the hilt of Glormindel the woman kicked him in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards into his room. Dorn fell on his back, ignoring the pain from the still imbedded dagger gouging deeper into his kidney. The woman drew another dirk from her boot and leaned over him.

"My sword now dwarf!" She hissed before thrusting the dagger into his throat.

Dwarves are sturdy, and Dorn was no exception. He knew his life was forfeit, but he planned on doing what he could. The burning pain in his throat was incredible, but he managed to bring Glormindel up as his consciousness was very rapidly fading. He thrust it at her and realized the sword had betrayed him as it slipped in his grip and fell beside him. He stared at it until the last sparkle of life faded from his unseeing eyes.

Zesstra looked around quickly, her wavy blond hair falling just past her shoulders. She pulled the dwarf fully into his room and shut the door. She took the sword from the floor and held it up before her. She felt a warmth spreading outwards from the grip into her hand, as though it were fusing itself to her.

She took the scabbard off of the dwarf's corpse and set it about her own waist. She retrieved her daggers, although something told her all that she needed now was the sword.

She smiled and left the inn, looking for someone to share her success with. She went to an inn on the other side of town and convinced a big burly man named Mithac to help entertain her.

*****

Zesstra rolled over and looked at the man. He was one of those big, burly, mindless fighter types who are useful for only a few things. She had just discovered one of the things he did well.

Mithac stood up and pulled up his breeches. He drew on his boots and saw Zesstra's newly acquired sword.

"Nice sword you got there," He said admiringly while girding his own slicer-and-dicer on.

Zesstra smiled triumphantly and said, "Yes, it's a beautiful blade."

Mithac looked over to see her nod her acquiescence. He reached down carefully and drew it from its scabbard, studying it thoroughly. He felt a warmth spread into his hand from the hilt, as if it were glad he had found it.

"Has it a name?" He queried.

"Dwarfvain," Zesstra immediately responded, quite humored at her choice.

Mithac grunted, unsure of the cause for the strange smile in her eyes at the name. "Would you be willing to sell it?"

Zesstra immediately wanted her weapon back. "No! Give it back now! I had to slay a dwarf to get that sword, and I'll not be selling it to anyone!"

"A pity," Mithac said, ignoring her frantic commands that he return it to her.

He turned slowly to her as though he was going to give it back peacefully. Then he quickly thrust it forward into her side. Zesstra had very good reflexes, but she only managed to avoid a mortal wound by her failed attempt to spring away.

Mithac tried to pull the sword out of the shallow wound at her side and run her through more forcefully, but the blade would not be moved. The sword began to slowly grow warmer in Zesstra's

side. The blade turned pink, lightly at first, then deepening to red. Zesstra screamed in pure agony. She felt pain as she had never felt before now.

She threw herself away and managed to get the tip out of her side, although it took a fair sized chunk of flesh with it. She turned to a window and threw herself through it. She picked herself up from the ground, one story below, and was not sure if she needed to cradle her wound, or her newly broken arm. She quickly discovered that her wound was not bleeding.

She went as quickly as she could to a temple. She had left all of her possessions behind at her room, thus she had no money, weapons, nor even clothing. The priests there bandaged her wounds, commenting upon how pale she looked, but they would cast no spells to heal her if she had no money with which to pay.

Back at the inn, Mithac held the sword up in front of his face, feeling the heat from the entire weapon on his face, yet none of it transferred through to his hand gripping it. He felt a sudden desire to find somebody and slaughter them in tribute for allowing Zesstra to escape with her life. He checked his strange desire and looked out the window from which she had fled.

Their was no sign of her on the street, he could tell nothing other than the startled expression from the one story leap from a window on the many people in the street.

"Which way'd she go?" He called out angrily.

None of them answered him, or even honestly were sure, she had moved off to quickly for anyone to follow her. Mithac turned away from the window in disgust. He grabbed up her possessions in order to search them later. Right then he had to leave the inn and the town. He headed north out of Rifton, managing to escape the irate innkeeper's wrath.

*****

"Father," Dolgen heard someone call to him. He turned about and saw his first son, Roryn, enter his smithy.

"What're ye fer lad?" Dolgen asked.

"It's me master. He's not come back," Roryn explained quickly.

Dolgen looked at Roryn carefully, "Are ye sure, he's been gone fer two days now?"

Roryn nodded, "On me mother's beard, I swear it. He left with Glormindel and has not returned."

Dolgen nodded at that, his boy would not swear upon Dolgen's beloved wife if he were telling a lie. He frowned. The town of Rifton was only a few hours away from clan Stoneshoulder. Dorn should have returned quickly from there, after all, Dorn despised the way that other races lived far more than many dwarves in their clan.

Reaching a decision, Dolgen turned and shut his forge down early. He then turned and stalked off to the dwarven council.

*****

Mithac walked up to the open gate of Oradin. He looked down at the sword he had named Vinuthain, and wondered how often he would need to use it here. In the many way points between Rifton and Oradin he had used the hypnotic powers the sword seemed to have over people to get him free food and lodging. A few of the people who set eyes upon his beloved sword decided that they must have it for themselves. He had slain all of those who had tried to take it from him, but eventually he knew he would run into someone better than he. He had also discovered that the sword had a fondness for blood, as though it were a living thing.

Mithac pondered the way people reacted when he held the sword aloft. They either sought to possess it for themselves, or became willing slaves to it to him. People seemed to have no mind of their own when it came to Vinuthain. Of course, he still had complete control over himself.

Mithac strode boldly through the gate, a few people gave him wary glances, but most simply considered him another warrior looking for somebody to bully around. He caught sight of an inn and veered towards it.

He entered the inn and passed the ogre bouncer on his way up to the bar. He eyed the ogre wearily, since their race was known for its unpredictable behavior. Mithac moved to the bar and ordered some ale. He then requested a room. The barkeep handed him a key and collected the gold Mithac handed him. Mithac slammed his mug on the bar after draining it and then went upstairs.

He locked the door behind him and looked down at his bed. He snarled at it and spat out a stream of curses. It was to short and probably louse ridden. He jerked the blankets off of the straw pallet and threw them on the floor. With another stream of curses, he joined them. His sword never left his side.

The next day he loudly thundered down the stairs and into the taproom. The barkeep and one serving maid kept those breaking their fast content with a steady stream of food. Mithac sat down at the bar and the barkeep approached him.

"My lord," He asked in a questioning tone.

"What do you want! I am sore from spending a night on the damn floor because your bed was not long enough. I will be taking my money back now. It would have been more comfortable sleeping on a nest of ants covered in honey!" Mithac growled loudly in his face.

"But milord, you chose to stay here. At least you were kept free from both the elements and the dangers of the wilderness," The barkeep countered.

"You speak of danger! I'll be scratching myself for a month from the lice I've inherited from your bed! I'd rather face the elements any time than the course floor and the splinters I pulled from my back!" Mithac retaliated.

"Please sir. If you wish no more of this inns hospitality, then I must ask you to leave," The barkeep said, signaling the ogre bouncer over to reinforce him.

Mithac looked at the approaching ogre, "By the gods! Do you never sleep?!"

The ogre was beginning to get annoyed, and an annoyed ogre is preferable only to a dragon with a sneezing fit.

"Bertrem, please escort our guest out of the inn," The barkeep said to the ogre.

Mithac sprang to his feet as Bertrem reached for his shoulder. He drew Vinuthain with barely a conscious thought. He lunged forward and slashed the edge of his weapon across the ogres midriff, opening it up and spilling out his guts. A sudden pain shot up from Mithac's hand straight to his head, causing him to lose his concentration as he stumbled back into the bar.

He turned and saw the terrified barkeep with his mouth hanging open. He managed to stumble out of the inn into the street. He resheathed his blade and the lancing pain gradually stopped. He knew he would have a headache for the rest of the day, however.

Mithac turned and walked back into the inn, remembering he had unfinished business there. The barkeep looked truly terrified to see him come back inn, he tried to hide it, though.

"M milord, is there something I can do for you?" He asked meekly.

Mithac drew Vinuthain and held it above him, so that it was just below the ceiling with its tip. The barkeep's eyes looked at the sword and glazed over for a moment before partially clearing.

"Yes, I would like my money back."

"Certainly milord!" The innkeeper enthusiastically agreed and gave him a pouch full of gold, at least twice as much as what he had paid.

Mithac kicked the ogres corpse and said, "You have a mess on your floor."

"Don't trouble yourself with that milord, I have been meaning to replace him anyhow, he was more trouble than he was worth," The barkeep hastily explained.

Mithac spit on the ogre and turned to leave.

"Please do not leave good sir," The barkeep said, on the verge of groveling.

"I refuse to stay in a place that is not even worthy of the lice that crawl through its sheets!" Mithac scoffed before storming out the door.

Unseen behind him, the innkeeper drew a dagger from his belt. If he could not keep a place clean enough for lice, he did not deserve to live. With that thought he plunged the dagger into his own heart.

*****

As Mithac walked through the marketplace, contemplating a better place to stay, he saw a glint from something off to his side. He wandered over and saw a vendor selling scabbards. He decided that Vinuthain needed a much better scabbard, for a sword as fine as it was could not reside in something as plain and dull as it currently did.

The merchant began to show him his wares. Mithac inhaled sharply when he saw a jewel studded sheath that was fit for a king. Not just any king, but the king he would someday be with The Sword at his side. He was suddenly possessed of a strong desire to provide that scabbard for Vinuthain.

"How much for this?" Mithac asked the merchant.

"Ah, that tis a fine scabbard sir, nearly a work of art. I am doing a handsome amount of business today, I will let you have it for a mere 500 gold," The merchant greedily replied.

Mithac growled, he had nowhere near that much money. "Why don't I take the scabbard and let you live. Is that not a fair price?"

"If the price is to high, we can barter for it, there is no need for threats good sir," The vendor stammered.

Mithac scowled and drew his sword. In a blink of an eye he sheathed it in the merchant's chest. His headache receded to nothing as the blade turn first pink, then red. Finally the merchant's corpse slid off the blade and hit the ground with a sound akin to that of a muffled hammer striking wood.

Mithac took hold of Vinuthain's new scabbard and fitted about his waist. He casually walked away from the booth, hoping that no one had noticed. Of course in a busy town at a busy time such as this, many people had, but all of them pretended they had not.

Chapter 7

"I have loved deeply once in my life, more deeply then I hope I ever do again," Yamara began, looking into the distance. "And through my own folly, that person is forever gone. By my own hand she has died not once but twice. Never to return."

"One man alone amongst the countless men I have known has ever proven worthy enough to gain my respect and my trust, but if I ever see him again I suspect he will find me not the person he hoped to find."

She looked at Eric then, her eyes focusing on his. There was a rebellious spirit contained within them. A spirit that challenged him. "There is nothing between us, Eric. Know that now and know also that I am only telling you this to repay any debt I may have for you rescuing me from your hospital."

Eric raised his eyebrows in surprise at her bluntness, but tried to otherwise keep a calm face. His thoughts raced but he kept them reigned in. After all, plenty of women had said similar thing to him and they had all fallen for him in time, it just made it more of a challenge for him. "So what about the sex? That was damn good. Hell, it was great... that was nothing too?"

Yamara smirked. "It was okay, don't flatter yourself. Better then most, even, but not the best. If you will be silent and stop interrupting me you will understand better."

Eric doubted her. He enjoyed a position of wealth and power, he never had to go without someone to share his bed if he wanted it. Yamara had been one of the best ever. Even the hookers in Bangkok he had been with paled in comparison to her. That kind of passion did not happen without some emotional attachment. It just was not possible, was it?

Seeing no response other then a nod forthcoming, Yamara continued. "The girl I met on another world. Acathia was a hot world. A world with two suns and precious little water."

"Brina and I escaped that world, which was not the world of my birth, somewhat by accident. We ended up on a planet known as Malatoria. There evil truly befell us, though it was my fault as clearly as any."

Yamara's stare never wavered, making Eric begin to feel uncomfortable with the strange intimacy that the eye contact was forming when combined with the quiet but serious tone of her voice.

"We fell in with a man who at first seemed to want the best for us. In truth he wanted only Brina, for I had caused him to lose face already. As time passed he moved closer and closer to her, poisoning her thoughts with his words. Then at the last I forced a confrontation and slew him. Brina was caught up in the middle of the fight and was slain herself on my own sword."

Eric's eyes widened a little. He expected Yamara to show some sign of regret, but instead she only tightened her jaw a little. He was both impressed and a little scared at her control.

"I fled the city then, spending years by myself in the wild living as only I could. In time people came and pulled me from it. James and Brina lived, they said. I killed almost the entire troop of messengers before I heard their message from one of them who was herself mortally wounded by me. I tracked down the surviving member who had fled and questioned him roughly about it. Then I made him take me to them. Along the way I grew tired of him and left him behind."

"Striking out on my own into the heart of an evil kingdom I had to be very careful. Once there I needed a new guide. The one I found had been waiting for me. Evart was his name and no better man will I ever find. He was a spy, you see, an agent against darkness. He pledged his support to me and together we made it to the new home of James and Brina. There, late at night in a castle filled with fey servants, I again fought against James. Brina stayed out of this fight, at her Master's bidding. So overconfident was he that he mistakenly let Brina come to me when I was wounded sorely and nearly overcome with poison. She gave me the secret to defeating him and the strength to use it then, for she could not do it herself."

Yamara raised her head a little, her chin sticking out defiantly. "I cast him aside then, leaving him paralyzed in his defeat. His own Master showed up then. James was destroyed forever at that point, his dark liege considering him weak and foolish. I refused to take his throne in his absence and was thus given the ultimatum of leaving Malatoria behind forever or being tortured for a thousand years. I chose to leave it behind."

Her chin quivered for the briefest of moments then. She had lapsed into a very brief silence before continuing. "Before I stepped into the portal I was allowed a few moments with Brina. To survive the fatal blow she had received she had become something dark and evil herself. She fought against it with me, and knowing the truth of how things had been she fought against her very nature. She begged me to end her, as her free will had returned with James' death and she desired to be at peace. We could never be together, only one of us could go through the portal and even if we could she would forever be succumbing to her desires to slake her demonic hungers. It was there, nearly in the heart of Mardurin, in the castle of the Baron of Palungol, that I destroyed her forever."

She paused again, gaining strength with each passing breath. She waited for Eric to say or do something. In response he simply sat there and listened, knowing any action or judgment on his part would ruin what little rapport he was building with her. Finally she resumed her tale.

"I was standing on a doorstep next. In front of me was a door. A signpost beside me read, 'Broke Axe Tavern'."

"Ah ha!" Eric cried out, finally speaking. Yamara looked a little startled at his sudden exclamation.

"Sorry," he said, grinning triumphantly, "I was hoping you would get to that place sooner or later. It just validates my theory is all."

"You have been there?" She asked, her voice a little louder now that she was not seeing mostly memories.

He shook his head. "No, but I know a few people that have. Don't worry about that right now, let's just say I have my own story to tell. But first, back to yours."

Yamara eyed him shrewdly for a moment then nodded. She took a deep breath and went back in time, explaining a version that was remarkably close to the truth to him.

"That explains it," Eric muttered, leaning back. He had felt himself remember Alesha all to well when Yamara had described her, and found that it sent shivers down his spine and blood to his groin. He adjusted himself to a more comfortable position before continuing. "Those assholes that broke into my apartment must have been her lackeys."

"Not hers, her brothers," Yamara insisted. Then, under her breath she muttered, "I think."

If Eric heard the latter comment, he ignored it. "Whoever's they may be, they have the sword and if what Kelnozz told me is true, that's a bad thing. I've seen a lot of weird shit since they came into my life, and apparently that's only a fraction of the weird shit out there where you guys all come from. I guess that sword has a few souls trapped in it. A powerful demon among others. I should have trouble believing it, but somehow it just seems my sort of luck lately."

"Talifernon."

"Huh?" Eric said, not understanding the word Yamara had spoken.

"The demons name is Talifernon. He was Alesha's familiar," she explained.

"What's a familiar?" Eric asked.

Before Yamara could answer the door opened and Bill walked back in. A half smoked lit cigarette hung out of his mouth and he looked in innocently. "Hey kids, mind if I come back in? Starting to rain out there and, damnit, I'm bored."

Yamara looked questioningly at Eric. She was willing to follow his lead apparently. He nodded and motioned for Cowboy to take a seat. "It's a long story, Cowboy, so hang tight and I'll catch you up when she's done."

"A familiar is a wizards pet. They share some kind of special bond that enables them to share powers with each other, in a limited fashion. I don't really know how any of it works. But, while the bond is in effect it is very stressful and even often painful to a wizard if their familiar is slain or banished. In Alesha's case, Talifernon was an exceptionally powerful familiar. Most familiars are common creatures such as cats, birds, even frogs and the like. Some rare powerful wizards have lesser demons such as imps or magical creatures like pseudo-dragons. That Alesha had a major demon such as Talifernon as a familiar is a testimony to her great power while she was at her peak."

"What the hell-" Cowboy began, stopping halfway in his descent to a chair.

"Oh, I forgot to mention something," Eric said with a smirk. "You're probably not going to believe a damn word of this either. Just smile and pretend we're not crazy for a little while longer."

Bill stared at him for a long minute then just shrugged and chuckled. "Whatever you say, Eric, it's your show." He sank into the chair and stabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the end table next to him.

Eric smiled weakly and turned back to Yamara. "So why you?"

She glanced at Bill and sat up on the bed a little straighter. Hiding any discomfort, she swung her legs off the edge and faced Eric directly. "I came here to steal the sword from you and return it to Alesha."

Bill chuckled and reached into his pocket to fish out his pack of cigarettes. "Gotta give her points for honesty!"

Eric ignored his friend and stared back into Yamara's unsettling eyes. "It might not have been as easy as you think," he said matter-of-factly. "If anybody who does not know the proper release on it tried to take it, it would have set off some alarms and brought the buildings guards running, not to mention me."

"I'm not your average thief," Yamara replied with a faint smile.

"I gathered that," Eric said darkly. He glanced at Cowboy and scowled when he saw the shit eating grin on his face.

*****

Yamara had been showing some signs of weariness so Eric had suggested she get some more sleep. Bill and he had gone outside and stood under the narrow dry walkway that the overhanging roof protected from the drizzle outside. Once there Eric told Bill as much of the story as he could remember and piece together, which took considerably longer and was more thorough then he had intended.

"I haven't had one of these in years," Eric muttered as Bill held out his Zippo to light the cigarette he had given him.

"Just like falling off a bike, you never forget!" Bill said, grinning.

Eric scowled but puffed until the end glowed red. He took a few experimental drags on it and was surprised to feel that while it had been years, his lungs had not forgotten. "Tastes like shit," He growled.

Cowboy laughed.

"Any suggestions?" Eric asked, getting back to the heart of the matter.

"Sure, we ditch the bitch and head for the border. You still got that rice burner don't ya?"

"It's a custom Honda Valkyrie putting out more torque and horses then your fat boy does!" Eric protested.

"Still a rice burner," Bill said. Eric scowled at him and flicked the mostly unsmoked cigarette away. Technically he was right, it was a Japanese bike, even if it was a badass cruiser.

"You ever see that dyna-glide I picked up a couple of years ago?" Eric said, thinking back to his small motorcycle collection he had built over the years.

"You bought a Harley? Thought you were never going to come over to the dark side?" Bill said, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah well, they've got a sound you just can't beat and I love a loud bike. Besides, with the fuel injection and rubber engine mounts, it doesn't shake my fillings out like your hog."

Bill shrugged. He enjoyed his ride, and so did most of the women that rode with him, but not everybody was perfect. "Okay, so we go grab that bike and head for Mexico. I know this place along the gulf coast not to far south from Texas that's a great place to lay low for a while."

Eric chuckled. "That'd probably be more fun then we deserve. Last time we went to a bar in Mexico we got arrested, remember?"

"Not my fault you can't handle real tequila," Bill said, glancing at the slowly brightening horizon.

"And it's not my fault you had to try and score with the owners 14 year old daughter!" Eric countered.

"She looked 18 to me."

Both men laughed and stayed silent a moment while they remembered the 'good' old days. "Getting old, bro," Bill finally said.

Eric grunted something that was a cross between an agreement and an expletive.

"She's cute enough I guess," Bill admitted at last. "And she's got that really weird accent that I can't place... that kinda helps her story out some. The marks on her skin I noticed can be explained away as scars that have faded a lot, but man, you're talking about 20 or more years of fading, and she ain't more then 20 or 21 or I'm a nun."

"Well sister, she told me she was 23."

Eric received a rude gesture involving a certain finger for that remark, but Bill continued nonplussed. "She's healing fast, that's for sure. What is it about her that's got you hooked though? You've had better looking women and women with more reasonable stories."

"Guess I'm a sucker for a hard luck case," Eric joked. That earned him a sarcastic laugh from his friend who knew him better then that. "Okay, I don't really know why I'm throwing my lot in with her. There's just something about her. She's different and I think she's genuine. More honest then any other women I've ever known."

"Thought she told you she's been a thief, a spy, an assassin, and who knows what else?"

"Well, there is that," Eric admitted with a sheepish grin. "But in some sick and twisted way that lends credence to her honesty."

Bill shook his head and looked away. "I think you're thinking with your dick man."

Eric briefly remembered the one night he had spent with Yamara and smiled wistfully. "Could be, Cowboy."

"You really gotta get that sword back?"

"Yeah, I do. I gave them my word and if that wasn't enough, then these are not the types of guys you want to piss off."

Bill cursed and spit. "Well I'm not saying I believe a goddamn thing that either of you have told me tonight, but you know me. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let any of us stick their necks out on their own."

Eric smiled and clapped him on the back. "Thanks Cowboy, I owe ya."

"You owe me more then you'll ever be able to pay, Eric. Remember that time in Saudi?"

"What are you talking about? That was me pulling your ass out before her husband, the sheik, caught you!" Eric said.

Bill grinned. "Yeah, you should have distracted him instead of getting me out. She had a great set of titties!"

Both men laughed some more. Finally they calmed down and returned to thinking about the situation. "Any idea where these jokers hang out?" Bill asked.

"Not yet, but I'll find out." Eric promised.

"We gonna need any more help on this?"

"Sure could use Lurch." Eric said quietly.

"Yeah," Bill agreed softly. "Damn shame about that kidney transplant not working for him."

An unspoken moment of silence passed between them at the memory of their teammate and friend. "I think the three of us can handle it."

Bill nodded and then clapped him on the shoulder. "Go get some sack time Eric, I'll stand watch."

Chapter 8

Dolgen turned to his companion, Durak, and said, "He had to come here, I'll get us a room, ye do the askin'."

Durak nodded and they parted company as soon as they had passed the Oradin gate.

Durak was an old friend of Dorn's who had volunteered to help Dolgen retrieve Glormindel and help avenge the death of Dorn. So far, Dolgen and Durak had gotten along quite well, and they made a good team, as long as both of them were united on a mission of vengeance. Durak was also a lieutenant in the standing army of clan Stoneshoulder. Dolgen, on the other hand, had spent his first 50 years as an adventurer. In his next fifty he had risen to the rank of colonel in the dwarven army and was present at the great battle where Ancaruin was slain and the good dragons released. Now, at the age of 177, and just past his prime, he had settled down to the life of an armorer and smith. Durak, thirty years younger, was quite content with his life in the dwarven army.

Dolgen found a suitable inn and sent a boy off to find Durak and report to him where he was. He settled down in the taproom to show the locals the incredible drinking endurance a dwarf possessed. He was also interested in any rumors the bar might hold, although he was far more interested in the quality of their ale.

Dolgen waited for what seemed like an extremely long time before the boy he had sent to find Durak returned, his face red with exertion.

"Sir," The boy said, very nearly out of breath, "Your friend told me to get you! He is sorely wounded!"

Dolgen leapt up from the table, sending both his chair and the table crashing to the ground. "Take me to him now boy!" He cried out.

As Dolgen moved towards the door the serving man called out to him, "Hey, wait, your tab!"

Dolgen cursed and ripped his money pouch free of his belt. He turned and threw it at the man, which caught him square in the teeth, knocking some out, others loose.

They ran as quickly as they could, and finally came upon a crowd of people gathered around something. "Out of me way!" Dolgen roared as he burst through the ranks of the stunned spectators.

Dolgen dropped beside Durak and ignored the priestess beside him. He clutched Durak's hands and tried to get him to respond, but he could see he was already to late.

"Friend dwarf, it is to late, your friend is with the gods now," the priestess said to him as Dolgen sat back.

Dolgen stood up and looked at the priestess. She wore the symbol of Karthor, the god of light, and little else. "By Nordan, ye humans have no self respect! Put some clothes on! Ye'd never catch a dwarf wearing as little as ye do!"

The priestess raised an eyebrow at Dolgen's strange actions. "I do not understand good dwarf, what is the problem?"

Dolgen looked away and controlled himself. He had to remember that the surface races quite often went ungarbed, after all Viconia was a tropical land. It grew even warmer underground, but dwarves had long ago developed clothing as a type of protection from the dangers the tunnels they mined often presented.

"Sorry," Dolgen mumbled to her. "Look, could ye tell me what happened here?"

"Certainly, your friend attacked a human warrior without provocation. After a short battle, the human thrust his sword into your friends chest and finished it," She explained, slightly mollified.

"What type of blade did the human use and what did they look like?" Dolgen questioned.

"'Twas a very long sword, though not a great sword. Its hilt was studded with jewels, and it seemed to have been forged out of a red metal. The human was a man with breeches so badly torn that they did little for him, he had black hair if I remember correctly, I only saw him briefly as he pulled his weapon free of your friend and turned and ran off," The priestess summarized.

Dolgen nodded, he had found Glormindel. The red coloration would go along with what other people along the way had described such brutal scenes as, though he did not know what would cause such a thing to happen.

"There was something else," A male elf to the side offered.

Dolgen looked at the elves dark skin and average build and wondered at the surface races borderline disdain for clothing. "What was it?"

"Patience, friend, I would like to know why this is of such importance to you?" The elf responded, his tone curious.

"That sword is stolen from me clan, and me friend was slain by he who stole it! I mean to have me vengeance and retrieve the blade for me clan hall!" Dolgen spat out impatiently. "Now what was it, elf?"

"The warrior, he left the sword impaled in the dwarf's chest for a few moments after he had struck the mortal blow," He explained. "I have seen many powerful and magical blades before, but never one such as this, I was merely curious."

Dolgen nodded, that went along with the stories also. Dolgen knelt back down beside Durak's corpse and noticed that the wound was clean of any blood. "Where'd he go?" He asked the elf.

He pointed off to the west and said, "Do you need any help retrieving it?"

Dolgen snorted in contempt, "Bah, so that ye can take it next and stab me in the back, I think not, elf! I'll be on me way!"

The priestess interrupted and said, "What would you have us do with your friend?"

Dolgen mumbled something in the dwarven language and broke the necklace Durak wore. The body immediately burst into flames of a brown, earthy color.

"Nothin," Dolgen said, "Dwarves take care of their own."

The priestess nodded, not showing any surprise at the strange dwarven magic. In a few seconds Durak was completely consumed, clothing and all, by the flames.

Dolgen turned and hurried away to retrieve his pony. The elf smiled as he watched the dwarf hurry away. Another elf, this one light of skin color walked up to him and asked, "What was that all about?".

The dark elf shook his head and said, "Oh nothing much, just remembering how stubborn dwarves tend to be." He turned and faced the light elf. "I thought I told you that if you must come out in the public, wear the hood of your cloak up, you seem to forget that while you may not have similar beliefs as your people, your kin are as a whole ruthless and evil."

The light elf bowed his head and pulled his hood up, though it irritated him. They had been together over a century of years already and had done many deeds for the good of Viconia. From slaying dens of foul creatures like giants and orcs to more noble quests of rooting out bandits and brigands. Together they knew no challenge too great to overcome. "My apologies, I would not wish to bring down the wrath of an entire city upon but the two of us, though it might be a challenge."

"Remember, friend, confidence in your skill is one thing, but arrogance... that leads to an early grave." The dark elf said, throwing his arm around the light elf's shoulder and beginning to walk away.

"This thing we seek, it may be that sword, I am not sure yet," Kelnozz was back to business as usual.

Darakor snorted. They had been in the area for literally scores of years. Kelnozz had long since told him of Ancaruin's falling and of how his essence had spread out throughout Belurian when he was slain. Now the fragments of Ancaruin sought vessels to rest in, to marshal his strength until he was brought back together and returned from his near state of death. Yet no matter how close Kelnozz could come to finding the enchanted vessels he could only track it from afar, not from close by. Thus they had spent the past years chasing ethereal fragments, trying and failing to find the thing that Kelnozz sought.

And now he was certain that it had finally settled on a host in which to rest its infernal spirit. Typically the possessors of said objects went mad with the power they carried, either went mad or tried to harness it and instead enjoyed brilliant but tragically short successes in their equally short life until they burned out from the contact.

*****

In under ten minutes Dolgen was armed and armored for war in his shining plate mail (the dwarves made the best armor of any race) and his great double bladed axe. He forced his mount into a gallop to the west, feeling a bit of nostalgia, wearing his old adventuring gear.

Dolgen left Oradin heading west as fast as his encumbered pony could go. He rode as quickly as he could, and even rode through most of the night, cursing himself for having to sacrifice time to make sure his mount did not die of exhaustion.

A few days later, Dolgen came upon the town of Reballge. He saw it steadily growing larger on the horizon. Not only did he close upon Reballge, but also the Endless Ocean, which Reballge had a port upon. His pony was nearly spent, but he managed to spur it on as he came within sight of his quarry not quite an hour ago. Furthermore, the human had not yet seen him.

*****

Mithac finally had a sense of somebody watching him. He turned around and saw a dwarf on a pony a ways back. Cursing his ill luck and somehow knowing that this dwarf was related to the other one, he broke into a run. Mithac knew that his legs could not match that of a pony, though he could sorely test it if he chose. He also knew that he would not be able to make Reballge, so he turned off of the road to plow through the knee high grasses of the plains around him and make it harder going for the pony. He headed straight for the Endless Ocean.

*****

Dolgen saw that his quarry had most surely sighted him, for he had turned off the road and now went through the waist high grasses on the dwarf. Dolgen rode his pony as much as he dared, then jumped off of it and ran straight at the man, his stubby dwarf legs not being quick, but possessing endurance and strength.

*****

Mithac had run out of room. The grasses had died down to nothing as close to the edge of the cliff as he was. He stepped back from the several hundred foot drop to the ocean and drew Vinuthain for a showdown. He had a feeling this fight was going to be harder than any of his others.

*****

Dolgen readied his great axe and made sure his studded helmet was on securely as he charged into range. He slowed his pace as he came within speaking range of his adversary.

"Who are you dwarf? What do you want with me?" The man called out to him.

"I am Dolgen Blackhammer of clan Stoneshoulder. Ye've slain me kinsmen and stolen me clan's property!" Dolgen said wrathfully.

"Then come at me dwarf, and know your slayer is Mithac Strongarm. Come Dolgen, come into the warm embrace of Vinuthain!" Mithac held the sword out in an attempt to get Dolgen to fall under its sway of power.

"The Sword's name is Glormindel!" Dolgen said in an outrage as he charged forward, completely unaffected by the swords power.

Dolgen ducked under the first swipe of Vinuthain, and he crashed into Mithac's knees with all of the force he could muster. Dolgen's studded black iron cuirass did quite a number on Mithac's shins and knees, causing him to stumble and fall on his back. Dolgen jumped up, his axe ready.

Mithac rolled to the side to avoid Dolgen's great axe. He came to his feet, surprised to find that his sword was still in his hand. He blocked an earth shattering blow from Dolgen's axe easily, and then counter attacked. Dolgen had his heavy weapon back in time to block it.

The melee continued for several minutes. Dolgen's armor was easily cut through by Glormindel, but it usually slowed it down enough to allow him to avoid the killing blow. He stopped trying to cleave Mithac in twain and concentrated on forcing him backwards. Mithac understood the dwarf's strategy but he could barely keep him from chopping his knees to hamburger, let alone launch his own offensive.

Mithac finally gained enough momentum to stand still and fight off of Dolgen's advances. Dolgen began to tire, due in part to the many scratches and bruises he had received from The Sword. Dolgen knew that the momentum had switched against him, but there was naught he could do about it.

Seizing upon an idea, Dolgen through his axe high in the air at Mithac. Mithac tried to block it and only then realized his mistake.

Dolgen lowered his helmet and body charged him. His helm connected with the warrior's tightly muscled, but unarmored stomach, causing him to both lose his breath and his balance. He stumbled back a step, then another. He felt nothing under his foot and cried out in rage at being bested. He reached out and managed to grab a hold of Dolgen's arm.

Vinuthain refused to allow Mithac to drop it, though he did try. He brought it up to slash at the dwarf who was his only means of survival, now that he was hanging over the edge of a cliff. Dolgen knew that things were not good for him at that moment, and he was prepared to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to insure that Mithac was slain and Glormindel recovered.

Mithac swung the sword at the dwarf, and Dolgen managed to twist so that the blade cut through Mithac's arm and half of his own hand. Mithac roared in pain as gravity claimed him. Dolgen blinked the tears of pain out of his eyes as he watched Mithac fall with enough force to kill a normal man when he hit the water.

The force of the water hitting him was more painful than anything he had yet felt in his life. The sharp pain in his side hurt him even more. He opened his mouth to scream, but drew in water instead of breath.

Dolgen stood up, putting pressure on his hand so that the bleeding would hopefully stop. He continued to look down, seeing nothing but an undisturbed sea after the mighty splash. Dolgen fancied his knew name would be Dolgen Halfhand, due to the missing digits on his left hand.

*****

"Glormindel 'twas an evil blade, clan master," Dolgen finished his report to the dwarven council, his bandaged hand hanging limply at his side. "'Tis good that 'tis lost to the sea."

The council unanimously agreed with Dolgen, though they also agreed it was an extremely excellent dwarven work. After a few rhetorical questions, Dolgen was allowed to return to his rooms for rest and, much later, return to work, if his hand would allow him to do so.

Unknown to them all The Sword, be it known as Glormindel, Dwarfvain, Vinuthain, or just The Sword, waited patiently at the bottom of the sea for an unsuspecting victim to become its next pawn.

Chapter 9

"Captain, there's something off the port bow!" The lookout cried as he stared into the water.

The captain, a large swarthy man named Markus looked up from the map he was studying and walked over to the indicated rail. He looked about and could not see much of anything.

"Where be it, Kirrock?" He asked as he shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

"In the water straight ahead of you. I think it's a body, Captain," He responded.

Markus looked out again. this time he could indeed make out something in the water. He called out and ordered the ships course changed so that they came near the bloated corpse.

"What is the matter, my dear?" a female voice said behind him as he ordered his crew to bring the body aboard. In moments he had been fished out of the watery grave and laid upon the deck.

"Eh? Oh, nothing Ariana, just some poor sailor lost at sea," Markus explained to his mistress / navigator.

"Poor sailor indeed, he has a sword sticking out of his side! I think not that he is a mere sailor, my love," Ariana said as she looked on the scene.

Markus grunted as he also surveyed the drowned figure. The corpse was incredibly white, more so than a drowned and bloated figure should have any right to be. After a few more minutes of observation, Markus leaned down and pulled the sword free from the side of the victim.

At first the sword did not wish to leave its wet sheath, but it pulled out smoothly. As it lay gripped in Markus's hand, he felt a slow surge of strength and power rush up his arm and into his heart. Yet so slight and gradual was it that he thought he simply imagined it.

Markus held the sword up in the air and looked it over carefully. Those immediately near him commented upon what a beautiful and well wrought blade it was. Markus the drew his own long sword free of his scabbard and dropped it carelessly on the deck.

"What about the body, Markus?" Ariana asked, not being quite as enthralled in the blade as everyone else seemed to be.

Markus looked down on the drowned body and shrugged. "Toss it back to the sea from whence it came, it matters not to me."

His crew members, more loyal now than before for some strange reason, pushed the corpse back to the depths of that sea. Off to the side, unnoticed by all, a black skinned dark elf and an unusually pale looking human watched the scene with growing interest.

The ship was unnaturally quiet in the next few days, yet things operated more efficiently then they ever had before. Soon Markus began to notice how the crew looked at him. Most of them looked at him as though they would gladly follow him to whatever death he had chosen for them. The remaining few looked not at him, but his new weapon. And they looked with lust and greed, not with worship and admiration.

"Percius! Come in here please," Markus said one day after tiring of being constantly worried somebody was going to stick a knife in his back for his sword.

"Yes captain?" The highly disciplined first mate replied after entering the captains cabin with him. Markus was slightly troubled with how he was going to bring this up to his formerly trustworthy second in command. He hit him with some normal questions about crew performance and proficiency at first, trying to find a way to bring up his real reason for calling him in here.

"Excuse me, captain, but is this the only reason for summoning me?" Percius asked, not seeing any point to the matter at hand.

Markus sighed and leaned back in his chair. "No, Percius, it isn't."

"Then what, Sir, might I ask is the reason?" Percius said, his eyes quickly shooting the sheathed sword at Markus's side.

"That is the matter at hand, Percius," Markus said, noticing the sudden eye movement.

"Sir?" Percius said, wondering if his secret desire had been discovered.

"My sword, Percius, I have seen the look in your eyes and that same look in the eyes of a couple other people on my ship."

Percius's breath caught in his throat briefly, loud enough to make Markus notice it.

"I would like to know why some people want it so badly. Surely, it is a beautiful blade, nearly perfect, to my eye. But why do you and a few others want it so badly?" Markus came right out and asked.

"It is more then just a beautiful sword, Sir. I can feel it telling me to take it from you. It has taken every bit of willpower I have to ignore its call so far. I fear that it is cursed, captain," Percius replied, somewhat relieved to get this out.

"But why does most of the crew seem to suddenly worship me?" Markus asked again.

"Captain, may I speak freely?" Percius asked.

"Of course, you are the most trusted person I have on this ship, Percius."

"Do not trust me captain, I can barely contain myself, being so close to the sword you wear. Like all swords, it is double edged. It gives you power over most ordinary people, but it also turns your closest and most trusted against you."

Markus leaned back again and sighed. He thought about it for a minute before asking his next question. "What then, do you suggest I do with it?"

"Give it to me, Sir, I can control it and there is no one on this ship who is my peer in battle, there will be no more problems with it if you do this," Percius said, a strange light coming into his eyes.

The idea of giving the sword over to someone most definitely did not appeal to Markus. In fact, he felt so strongly against it that he immediately drew it and pointed it at Percius. "So, even my trusted first mate turns against me! You will pay with your life for this mutiny!"

So saying, he leapt up and it was all Percius could do to jump out of the arc of the first swing and draw his own short sword. With the blade unsheathed, Percius lost all control of his actions and was given over fully to his greed.

Percius lunged forward, trying to get under the swing of Markus' blade. The sword took control of Markus' actions, however, and set itself for the charging human. Percius ended up transfixed upon the blade as he tried to push himself forward. He looked down in pain as the sword ruptured his chest and then his heart.

Markus tried to let go of the sword and then when he could not do so he tried to pull it out of the mortal wound. Neither action seemed to work, however. As before, the blade turned pink then red slowly, finally it slid out of Percius's chest and Percius fell to the floor, drained and quite dead.

At first Markus looked at the blade in his hands with growing satisfaction and power, then a small part of him realized how horrible the thing he held was. The door to his cabin burst open before anything further could take place within him.

"Who are you that would dare to interrupt me!" Markus roared in rage.

The dark elf looked at him and then at the corpse on the floor. Seemingly without any movement two long swords appeared in his hands. Markus had to blink to realize that he had indeed drawn them from their sheaths and not used some sort of wizardry.

"My name is Kelnozz Risingmoon, and you do not understand the evil that you hold in your hand," The elf said, not advancing any closer.

"And I suppose you want me to just give it to you so everything will be alright and safe?!" Markus said in disbelief.

"Sheath the sword so it has less of an effect upon you, and I will not come near you while I explain it to you," Kelnozz said calmly.

"Ha!" Markus scoffed very loudly. "You are a fool, elf! To think that I should trust you is ridiculous!"

"If not me, then what, will you slay your entire crew and steer the ship by yourself? Put the blade away, for you cannot harm me with it."

Markus glowered in rage at Kelnozz's boasting. "We shall see!" He cried as he charged towards Kelnozz.

Kelnozz put his two blades into motion. The grace and skill with which he wove the two long swords around was enough to take any onlooker's breath away, but Markus was to enraged to see that. Instead he tried attack after attack, but none could get through the elf's whirring blades. Finally, seeing that it would avail him not, Markus put his blade away.

"Good, now let us talk like the rational people that we are," Kelnozz said, easily sliding his own swords back into their scabbards.

Markus sat down as far from Kelnozz as he could, and Kelnozz began to tell him the tale of Glormindel, the evil sword that he wore at his side.

"From the beginning of its creation almost 300 years ago, elven wizards sensed that a great evil was taking form in the world. We have watched it until its creation, then the power of this blade is such that we could no longer scry on it from afar. I was sent to secure this weapon and find out how to destroy it," He began, the went on to tell him of the dwarves who forged it and fell under its curse ere it fell into the sea nearly 3 centuries before.

"What is worse, I fear, is that I came across this blade back then with my student, a light elf who cried for mercy when I slew the war party he was with. Both of us saw it at work, though I was not certain if that was the artifact or not. Uncertain of its origins, we have searched long and hard and have confirmed that it does indeed house a portion of the spirit of the greatest of evils. If it were to fall into the wrong hands, the hands of those who also seek it, led by the light elven arch-mage Narellin, Viconia will fall into a dark age unknown since the time of the Kinslaying War."

"That is ridiculous!" Markus said, his ire rising again. "To think that it fell off a cliff 300 years ago and the body that it was imbedded in was still floating?!"

"Cirithallion sensed that a ship was coming nearby and that it could be discovered and loosed upon the world again, so it rose and was found by you," Kelnozz said patiently.

"But a sword possessing intelligence? Again, not possible!"

Kelnozz sighed at the limited imagination of such lesser lived races and explained this to the human. "We are not sure, but we suspect that a long ago banished evil sensed the skill of the dwarven craftsman and fed him this vision. With the perfect vessel created, the evil then entered into it and began to loose its doom upon the forger."

"And what 'ancient evil' is this you speak of?" Markus burst out, interrupting the elf.

"Have you listened to nothing that I have told you? I am Kelnozz Risingmoon, I adventured with Nordan Hammerthane and Martin Twoblade! With the help of an army of men, dwarves, dark elves, and even dragons we slew Ancaruin, a red dragon of such age and immense power that... words fail me to describe him! He frequently journeyed to such places as you would know as Hell and other even darker places of existence. He made bargains with them to conquer all that existed and rule the world, but we somehow defeated him. Such was his power that he could not simply be slain, however, and his spirit fled and has been hiding for eons. Much of his power and intellect was lost, but we believe that which was left to have collected within that weapon you claim to own. There are reported to be other shards of his existence and power hidden throughout this world, since this is where his mortal form was slain. If the sword finds them and reunites, then the world could very well be over for you and I."

"You are right, it does sound like all the fairy tales I was told as a child!" Markus said, coming quickly to the conclusion that the elf was simply trying to talk him into giving him the sword.

"Ah but think, all fairy tales must have some basis in truth!" Kelnozz said, beginning to realize how futile it all was.

"That was over 500 hundred years ago! I knew elves were long lived, but not that long! How is it that you have survived the years?"

"Elves do not age as humans do. You call us immortal, save that we can be claimed by wound, sickness, or any other injury. But even at that many elves grow weary of life and move on to other realms. This then is my secret," Kelnozz explained, holding up a pulsing white amulet from under his fine chain shirt. "It is called the Pendant of Power, and so long as I wear it, I can go where I will and leave no sign in the passing. It helps me find the various portions of Ancaruin's essence that I seek. I took it from Ancaruin's general when I defeated her."

"By the Gods, I can not believe I am speaking to you! You have fought beside Gods! But, in truth, what proof do you have that you are who you say you are?" Markus asked as his amazement began to slightly subside.

"How would you have me prove myself?" Kelnozz asked, not surprised that Markus would have trouble believing him.

Markus paused, unsure of what to request and how to request it. "Well, I am not sure, it has been long since reports have gone abroad of your existence, after all."

"Yes, that is true," Kelnozz admitted. "Look at my swords, my armor, all of these things are not as you would know them. The materials and purity of them alone must tell you that they come of divine origins. You saw my blades in action, what does your eyes tell you of my skills?"

Markus thought it over briefly before responding, "Aye, I believe that you are who you claim to be, how could I not?"

Kelnozz smiled mischievously and then went on. "Good, now then on to the heart of the matter, the sword. Which we elves call Cirithallion, the Chaos Blade."

"Why that?" Markus asked, curiosity and his amazement completely overriding the swords constant urgings.

"It houses the spirit of Ancaruin, the mightiest red dragon to ever exist. Its sole purpose was to corrupt and spread chaos and evil. The sword may not possess as much power as Ancaruin did, but it still serves that purpose, to promote evil and chaos wherever it goes."

Markus nodded and was about to say something when they heard a noise from the lookout above.

"Starboard! Dragon! Oh Gods, a dragon!" Came the frantic voice of Kirrock.

Kelnozz immediately sprung up and was out the door of the cabin before Markus had even stood up. When Markus joined him and the near albino that always seemed to be with him on the deck, they looked to the right and saw a dragon indeed swooping in at them.

"Just one?" Kelnozz asked in a grim but humorous tone.

Markus looked at him incredulously. "Just ONE!? What, you would have us fight a dozen or a score of them?"

Kelnozz looked at him and smiled mischievously. "Why not? I have!" He turned to his companion and said, "Ready for your first dragon, Darakor?"

The man grinned, excitement showing in his eyes. He glanced briefly to the sword Markus wore, noting that Markus' hand was on its way down to it. "Looking forward to it!" He said.

Markus shook his head and reached down to free his sword. Kelnozz's hand stopped him before he began to unsheathe it, however.

"No! Do not pull it free unless you absolutely must do so!" Kelnozz said, the tone of his voice convincing Markus to do as he asked.

As the dragon neared them they could see that it was a black dragon and that a figure rode upon its back. Kelnozz quickly dropped his amulet back under his tunic and drew his long swords.

He then turned and leapt on top of the captain's cabin. Kelnozz raised both his swords in the air and let loose a battle cry, in an attempt to bring their attackers at him. It worked, for the dragon opened its mouth and let loose a stream of corrosive spittle that only narrowly missed the dodging form of the nimble elf. The fumes from it still brought tears to the dark elf's eyes.

Kelnozz blinked the tears free from his eyes and looked at his assailants again. He noticed that the dragon no longer had its rider on it. He heard some low chanting coming from behind him and whirled around in time to get his blasted off the captain's cabin by a lightning bolt from the rider who was now positioned on the stern deck.

Kelnozz picked himself up from the deck after several long jerking moments. He looked to the aft and saw that Darakor had already closed with his assailant. Darakor's six strokes took less than a heartbeat to fall, cutting the figure down almost effortlessly. Kelnozz turned back around to see what had become of the dragon then.

To late to act, he saw that the black dragon had grabbed hold of Markus and Markus was drawing Cirithallion. He swung it at the flying reptile, but the drake's other claw grabbed his arm and stopped its movement prematurely. With its superior strength, the black dragon actually ripped Markus' arm off at the shoulder and dropped him to the deck. It then turned around and flew back to the direction from whence it came, it's rider forgotten.

Kelnozz hurried over to Darakor and looked down at the slain wizard. He noticed that the wizard seemed emaciated. He pulled the robe back so he could look down at its face and saw that the wizard Darakor had slain was indeed no more than an undead wizard. Concern and worry took hold of Kelnozz then and he spun about quickly.

"A lich," Darakor said, spitting on the deck. Kelnozz nodded, then remembered the captain's plight.

Kelnozz sprinted over to where Markus lay crumpled on the deck, bleeding from his mortal wound while Darakor overcame his distaste for the undead being and started searching his body. Liches were known to possess many magical items, from trinkets to items of great power. Meanwhile, a crowd quickly grew around them, and Ariana knelt beside Kelnozz.

"Kelnozz," Markus whispered through is pain clenched teeth.

"Thank you, I am here," Kelnozz responded to the human.

"Get that sword and destroy it! Now that I am free of it, I realize how evil it is!" He said fiercely.

"I will do so," Kelnozz vowed to him.

"Ariana, please, know that I love you," He whispered, turning to her.

"I love you too," Ariana said, wiping away tears.

Markus lay still for a moment and Kelnozz thought that he had expired, but he drew in a deep breath and said loudly, "I hereby pass my ship and everything on it I own over to Kelnozz here. Serve him better then you served me, although I could not have asked for a better crew."

"Trust him, Ariana," He whispered to her in a moment with his dying breath.

Ariana looked up at Kelnozz and wiped away her tears. "Let us talk, please."

Kelnozz sighed and nodded towards his new cabin. They went in there and Ariana turned to him.

"I do not know who you are, but I do know that sword is evil. I possessed it briefly, but had it taken from me by a warrior named Mithac. I felt it within my side and that pain left me free from feeling all other pain and free from the effects of the sword," She said.

"How is this possible, it has been under the water for almost 3 centuries!" Kelnozz said, doubting her words.

"I used to be known as Zesstra, and shortly after I got away from Mithac and that weapon, I stumbled across a treasure trove of age halting magical items. Some wizard who is long since dead apparently feared the aging process. I have been hoping and praying to never come into contact with that weapon again, but apparently my fate has been otherwise indicated. I once swore to have it back, but with the passing of time and now that I have been near it again, I pray to the Gods to never see it again!" She explained quickly.

Kelnozz nodded, he could see her point. He had only encountered it twice in his life himself thus far, but he wished he had the luxury of never seeing it again. "Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to destroy it, you need not fear it any longer I think."

She nodded sadly. "I escaped it once, I suppose it was only a matter of time before it found a way to take something from me I valued more then my own life."

Kelnozz sighed emphatically and nodded. Wherever Cirithallion went grief and hardship was sure to follow. He laid his hand briefly on Zesstra's shoulder and then walked out the door.

Darakor was waiting outside for him. "Got yourself a ship I see," he commented dryly. Kelnozz scowled slightly at him and nodded for him to follow.

Zesstra followed him back out onto the deck and watched him address the crew. "Ok, as my first and final order as acting captain, I appoint Ariana as your new captain. Darakor and I are leaving here and will not be returning."

"Kel, they have seen the blade," Darakor whispered meaningfully. Kelnozz turned to regard him, uncertain of what he meant.

"You saw their eyes, they lusted for it as well. They will come after it, such a thing must not be allowed to happen!" Darakor paused for effect. "You told me as much yourself when you first explained these items to me."

"What would you have us do, my friend? The dragon will take it far from here, none will ever find it," Kelnozz said, turning his back on the crew to address him more privately. The ship's crew, knowing something important was being discussed but unable to hear it, grumbled and went back to their work.

"We must destroy this boat and these people," Darakor stated flatly. Kelnozz's eyes widened and the color drained from his face for a moment at the suggestion.

"You would create an evil to maybe stop another evil from taking place?" The dark elf asked.

Darakor nodded. "I would. They are but humans, their lives a blink in the span of our existence and nothing more, what matter are they to the greater things this world must deal with?"

Kelnozz shook his head. "I know Gods who were once human as well, my friend. Doubt not the strength of men, it served as a portion of the undoing that Ancaruin faced centuries ago when he first marched his armies on Viconia."

Darakor snorted but otherwise bit back his retort. Kelnozz's opinion meant much to him, but in this case they differed. Besides Ancaruin was defeated in the air by dragons and heroes unknown in their time, the one who had truly been defeated had been Darakor's father, Narellin. He held no love for his father, but he did hold respect. Had it not been for the meddling woman, Alesha, leaving the army in a state of disarray things would have surely been different.

"As you wish, Master," Darakor said at last. "I am here to learn, after all. If you say this lesser evil can not be committed to protect from a greater evil I shall think on it and understand it."

Kelnozz chuckled softly and lay his hand upon Darakor's shoulder. "Evil is evil, Darakor. There are no shades of it. We must ever be careful not to fool ourselves into justifying an act from which there is no return."

Darakor nodded and Kelnozz gave him a friendly smile, their debate finished and a lesson learned. Kelnozz cast a last glance over the ship let his eyes rest on Zesstra until she returned his gaze. He gave her a smile and pulled the glowing amulet out from under his chain shirt. In a flash of light caused by the magical pendant they vanished from the ship so thoroughly it was as though they had never been there.

Chapter 10

Nearly a week had passed in which Eric had managed to secure a leave of absence for himself from his business (Bill had just up and quit the job he had; hanging out with Eric and Yamara promised to be more fun). Eric made some calls and talked to people, as well as doing plenty of research on his own. By the time five days had passed from when they had gotten Yamara out of the hospital, he had a pretty good idea of where the stolen sword had ended up. Yamara had spent the time recovering and had surprised them when she acquired a small arsenal of knives, swords, and other hand-to-hand weapons from a hiding spot in her room.

"Florida, eh? Makes sense I guess, since that's where you said they were at before."

Eric nodded, he had not expected any real surprises. He looked at Yamara then, who showed signs of being completely recovered from her injuries. "We gonna have any problems with this?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, showing no signs of understanding.

"He means," Bill said, leaning towards her and smiling leering, "are you going to be good and helpful, or are you going to try and sneak away with this thing on your own?"

She returned his smile with a cold one of her own. "For the time being I plan to work with you two. After... well, I guess we will just have to wait and see."

She glanced at Eric defiantly. He just sighed and stood up. "Okay, I suppose that will have to be good enough for now. Cowboy, let's go see what your boys have for us."

During their weak of near convalescence Eric and Cowboy got to know Yamara a little bit better. She, on the other hand, got to know the two of them much better. Ever a skilled spy (though not presently an active one), she listened well and asked questions in clever ways that disguised her true meaning. Even though she had no real reason, yet, to distrust them or to try and get away on her own she wanted to be ready in case the time came.

She found Bill to be gruff and obnoxious most of the time, but he used that façade to hide a sometimes gentle nature underneath. From the stories the two told she doubted he had much chance to explore that more gentle nature though.

Eric she still found genuine, and that bothered her. He reminded her of Evart in many small ways, though more attractive then the short and wiry havrin had been. This of course irritated her and made her seek all the more for faults within him. She refused to ponder the possibility that he truly was what he seemed. She had made that mistake once before. It had cost her considerable pain to get back to her normal way of life. Pain that sometimes still bothered her.

They headed out of the latest motel they had stayed in the next morning, piling into a rusty old F-250 that Eric had paid cash for two days earlier. He threw the manual transmission into gear and roared out of the parking lot, heading south towards Florida, by way of a stop in Tennessee. Some of the bikers Cowboy had rode with lived in a remote shack high up in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee's backcountry. The ran a tidy little profit selling homegrown drugs, booze, and guns.

Starting out in Ohio, they did not reach Tennessee until an hour or so before dusk that day. Having been on Earth for several months, she still found her breath taken away by how quickly things could move. In particular, vehicles. She lacked understanding of how they worked, something about a hybrid engine involving electricity and fuel cell technology. She just considered it magic and tried not to think about it.

Bill's contacts turned out to be glad to see him. They remembered Eric faintly from one time he had gone riding with Bill to the yearly bike rally in Sturgis. They were most interested in Yamara though. She was dressed plainly, wearing a Cincinnati Bengal's baseball cap, faded jeans and a large red Hooter's t-shirt. She disdained bras, having come from a society that had no such thing save the corsets and girdles of nobility and serving wenches, and found the underwear of modern women to be quite invasive and uncomfortable. But her lack of undergarments did not show in the drab outfit she wore and her own average chest size did not boast of her ever having worked at a Hooter's restaurant. In spite of all that, she seemed to stand out to the backwater gunrunners.

Everything went fine with the deal though, up until one of the bikers tried to cop a feel. As soon as his hand brushed against her ass she had his hand in hers and he was on his knees, grunting in pain. Everyone else stopped and turned to see what was going on, stunned. She glared angrily at him while he looked up at her pleadingly. She had his wrist locked in her strong grip and his thumb folded in on itself, which she steadily applied pressure too.

"Jesus Christ, I'm sorry!" He said after a long moment of trying to ignore the pain of the hold. He finally snapped and begged for mercy.

"Yamara, let him go," Bill growled, afraid that things were about to turn ugly.

She ignored him and continued to hold the would-be lecher down for another long moment. Then she pushed down and everyone present heard the snap his thumb made. He howled in agony and fell completely to the ground, cradling his now released hand.

Eric wanted to chuckle, but he suspected the timing might not have been good. The other three bikers stood motionless, poised for action. Nobody knew what to do until one of them finally started laughing.

"You stupid shit, Randy! I told you something like that was gonna happen someday!" He said to the wounded man on the ground.

The tensions eased at that point and everybody else laughed a little to further relieve themselves. Everybody except Randy and Yamara. He started to get up off the ground and muttered under his breath, "I'm gonna show that fucking bitch!"

He never made it to his feet. Yamara's foot shot out and connected with his face, mashing his nose flat and driving him onto his back, unconscious. She dropped low after the attack and looked at everyone else, ready to defend herself.

That just sent the bikers into even stronger gales of laughter. Eric felt himself laughing pretty good too, the biker had deserved it. Well... maybe. Eric was just glad that it was not him on the receiving end!

Bill chuckled lightly and proceeded to try and move things along quickly so that they could get past the situation. The only further notice of it he took was to send an angry glance at Yamara, which she caught and let fall on an impassive face.

They finished up and left before Randy had woken back up. The other bikers assured Bill that it was no big deal, Randy had that coming from years of abuse. None of them mentioned that they were all just as glad as Eric was that it had been Randy and not them that had tried to be cute with her.

Still angry over it, Bill drove them silently through the night while Eric was in the back of the extended cab truck, going over the guns they had bought and making sure everything was in order.

Modified M-4s, shortened assault rifles capable of automatic fire. Only two of them, but only he and Cowboy knew how to handle a gun. In spite of ,it, he had made sure that they each acquire a pistol. For him it was a Desert Eagle .50 caliber. Cowboy's was a good old fashioned Colt .45. He had chosen a Glock 17 9 millimeter pistol for Yamara. It was a big gun for a small hand, but she had demonstrated her strength enough for him. Body armor for all in the form of flak jackets. A few kilos of C-4 for them to play with, and Yamara had a special request.

"You really should not have done that," Bill said quietly after stewing over the matter for several miles.

Eric groaned inwardly. He was afraid Bill was going to push the incident. Yamara merely sat up front, ignoring him and running a whetstone over one of her various knives.

"Aren't ya gonna say anything?" He asked after it became apparent that she had no rebuttal.

She stopped sharpening the already razor keen knife and looked at him coldly. "No one touches me without my permission."

"Jesus Yamara, he wasn't going to rape you, it was a harmless little grab-ass!" Bill exploded. "You damn near cost us the meet, and for that matter, our lives! We were outnumbered and outgunned there!"

Bill took a few breaths and calmed down before continuing. "Look, all I'm saying is that you should have taken it easy on him, I plan on living to a ripe old age and dying in my sleep, okay?"

Her frozen gaze never left his. "I took it easy on him. On my world he would be dead."

Bill's eyes widened slightly and then he looked away and shook his head. "Thanks Eric," was all he said.

Eric looked back and forth between the two of them. Too many days together, it was starting to wear on all three of them.

"Cowboy, pull into the next motel, I think we could all use a night off," He said after a few uncomfortably quiet moments had passed. "We'll head down to the everglades tomorrow and recon the place in the evening. Then hit it the following day."

Bill grunted agreement and continued to drive. They just passed the southern Tennessee state line when they found a suitable motel to pull in to. Cheap rates and cheaper quality, but they were going for anonymity.

As soon as their gear was stowed, Bill left, heading out into the humid night for some time by himself. Eric was still going over their gear and Yamara watched him wordlessly. He glanced up at her and smiled weakly.

"Ever seen one of these?" He asked, holding up the pistol he had bought for her. She shook her head.

"It's a Glock 17 pistol. It holds 16 bullets in the clip," he showed her the 3 empty magazines they had for it. "Semi-automatic weapon, that means you pull this slide back to chamber a round, then point it at your target and pull the trigger as many times as you need to."

Yamara watched him go through the motions of firing the gun. She showed no sign of understanding the point to it. Eric ejected the clip he had put in it and handed it to her and said, "Here, you try it."

She picked up a clip and slipped it into place. It clicked home and she grabbed the slide exactly as Eric had done and cocked it back. Had there been any bullets in the clip it would have been loaded. She pointed it at him and tried to pull the trigger, which was locked both because the safety was on and because there had been no round to chamber, the slide had not closed.

"Okay, um, here, let me put a bullet in the clip so you can try it again, but don't point it at me and don't pull the trigger this time, okay?"

Yamara nodded, handing the pistol to him.

Eric breathed a sigh of relief as soon as it was no longer pointed at him. He took it and ejected the clip and slipped a bullet into it. Then he double checked to make sure the safety was on before handing it back to her. "From the beginning this time."

Yamara repeated the exercise, slamming the barely loaded clip in and racking in the bullet this time. She pointed it in a two handed grip fashion towards an imaginary person standing near the door this time, and lightly placed her finger over the trigger.

"What will it do?" She asked, not seeming to be very impressed.

"Well, it's loud, first of all. When it goes off try not to be surprised but it will sound like thunder," Eric said, making the gun sound worse then it would actually be. It took a big gun to sound like thunder, but to someone using one their first time, it might seem like it.

"Then it's going to kick some. By kick I mean recoil. It will feel like it's trying to jump in your hands every time you pull the trigger, just be calm and make sure you keep it pointed at whatever you are aiming at."

"Like a crossbow," Yamara said matter-of-factly.

"Um, sorta," Eric nodded, "only it'll kick more."

"What else?" She asked, turning to face him but keeping the gun from pointing at him.

"That button there," Eric pointed the safety out to her. "That's the safety, with it pushed in like that, you can not pull the trigger and shoot it. When you flip it over like this, that red line you can see now means it is ready to fire, just pulling the trigger will make it shoot."

Yamara flipped the safety off and aimed at her imaginary target again. Her finger brushed over the trigger and Eric winced, afraid she was going to shoot. She took her finger off and put the safety back on though, to his great relief. "Very much like a crossbow. Loads different and shoots much smaller bolts, like sling bullets, but not so different."

Eric thought about explaining the major difference between the two weapons, but opted against it, since it would have taken hours and involved a history of firearms and chemistry. So instead he nodded and accepted it back from her.

"Here, try this on," he handed her the smallest flak vest of the three he had bought. She slipped it on over her shirt and after some fumbling around, secured the buckles on it making it fit up against her snugly.

"Strange armor," she said, tapping on the front of it where the Kevlar plate inside was located.

"Um, yeah, maybe, but these will stop most small caliber bullets so it might just save your ass."

She shrugged and took it back off, tossing it on the table where he had gotten it. "At least it's black," she said.

Eric nodded and finished stowing away their gear back in the duffel bags they had gotten them in. He finished and looked at Yamara, trying to figure out something to say. Finally he sighed and came out with it.

"Take it easy on Bill, okay? He's a good guy, but you really scared him back there."

Yamara looked at him for a long moment, her face impossible to read. "He worries too much," she finally said.

Eric laughed, relieved that things might not be too bad. "Yeah, he does. Man had a few ulcers back when we were on active duty. He had command of a mission one time when the Lieutenant got killed and the sergeant got hurt bad enough to be knocked unconscious. It was a bad mission from the get-go, and some more of his guys never made it back. He blames himself for it, even though he did a damn good job. Never forgave himself, so he tries to overcompensate ever since. That's the real reason why Cowboy got out when his time was up, he was afraid to be a part of the team anymore."

"What happened to the sergeant?" Yamara asked, suspecting there was a story there based on the way that Eric had said the word.

"He got out okay. Messed him up pretty good though, broken ribs, head injury, torn spleen and some liver damage, plus a broken leg. Spent a few weeks in the hospital healing up before he eventually got discharged for medical reasons."

"That explains the scars and the limp," Yamara said, her voice betraying the tiniest hint of understanding as she walked over to where Eric was sitting on the edge of one of the beds in the room.

"Yeah, I guess it does," he admitted. He had been that sergeant. Grenade went off only a couple of feet away from him, with only the lieutenant between him. The officer had absorbed most of the shrapnel and some of the force from the blast, but it had still done quite a number on him.

"I like to think I did a lot more damage to my liver before and after in the bars though," Eric said with a grin. He rarely talked about the past; it did no good to dwell on it.

A moment of silence passed between them, stretching long enough that it began to grow uncomfortable. Eric wondered if Yamara was waiting to hear more about his military career, but had no desire to go over it again. He went over it often enough in his dreams.

"I'm not sure about Alesha now, but I - we will get that sword away from those people," Yamara surprised him by saying out of the blue. Eric was pleased to know that she had apparently been introspective herself.

"Well, Alesha was nothing but bad news when I knew her, briefly. We'll just have to wait and see what happens after we get it back, okay? So until then can we all play together and be friends?"

Yamara let a smile through briefly then nodded. "Sure thing, friends it is. Even with Bill. Just make sure he doesn't try to fondle me, only a special few get to do that."

Eric laughed. "Not a problem! Say, would you really have killed him?"

Yamara gave him a look that suggested he not ask questions he did not want answers too. Regardless, she voiced it aloud. "You and Bill have killed men for your realm and for your cause, but you always do it from afar, like an archer with these guns you are so proud of. In spite of that death still makes you squirm, it bothers you to think you could be so close to it. Have you ever killed a man or a woman with your hands? Twisted a knife inside their stomach and watched the light go out of their eyes?"

As she spoke her tone got more powerful and sank into Eric, reminding him of a scuffle he had once had with an Iraqi soldier when his unit had dropped into a prison camp in Iraq to rescue some captured pilots. He had been supposed to silence the guard quietly, and had done so but only after several minutes of tough combat in which his own life had been at stake. They had wrestled in the cold desert night with a drawn knife between them. Only when he had finally managed to crush the Iraqi's testicles with his knee had he managed to gain enough power over the knife to slide it into the man's throat and kill him. Eric remembered staring in horrified fascination into the mans eyes as the panic overtook him and he realized he was seconds from dying. Then the light fled as he went into shock and passed out. The blood stopped pumping out of the gash in his throat mere seconds later. His terror had caused his heart to give up even before his brain would have died from the anoxia.

Eric shuddered briefly and nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I have done that. It's a terrible thing to take away the life of a person. You are taking away everything they have ever had and everything they ever will. Their family, their friends... there's no coming back from where you send them. It's something that will rest on my soul forever, a stain."

She nodded thoughtfully and said quietly, almost rhetorically, "Can you imagine doing that to someone you care about?"

Eric's eyes widened as he tried to understand what Yamara was saying. He tried to grasp the concept but had trouble with it. He knew how he felt from having killed the enemy, he could not imagine what it would be like to kill a friend. "No, I can't imagine it."

Yamara smiled weakly. He had been honest, not disbelieving or reproachful. "You feel this way but yet you still go on to do this? You will be forced to kill tomorrow or the day after, or perhaps the day after that. Peace is not for us. Bill wants to die while sleeping as an old man, that can only happen if he takes the lives of others. If all of us take the lives of others. You can accept this?"

Eric nodded. "I can take the lives of others because there are more important things out there then life. My own life I would forfeit if I knew it would guarantee that we could retrieve this blade from these people and keep it safe from them. I saw what they were doing before, and if keeping this weapon from them in some way keeps them from gaining some of that power back, then it is worth my life and Bill's life and your life to do so."

Eric paused thoughtfully then pushed on before Yamara could say anything more. "Bill and I, we were young and stupid. We didn't fight for our country we fought for ourselves because we had no sense of the greater unit. The greater good. You can only do that so long before you realize that there are a lot of shitty places out there, and it's because of people like me and Bill that were spilling our own blood that we were allowed to live the decent lives that we lived. It was because of people like us that other people were able to throw protests and piss and moan about how unjust and cruel it was for us to be bombing helpless third world women and children. Women and children that could pick up and fire an AK-47 just as well as the man next to them. Those people hate people like me, but they should love us, because without us they would be slaves of a tyrannical government."

"And how do you feel about those people?" She asked, her tone curious.

"I think they're full of shit and clueless, to be honest, but that's their god-given right as Americans. And I fought to maintain their ignorance. Deep down I like to think they wanted me to and that they are thankful, but they have to pretend otherwise in order to satisfy the social circle they are involved in. It's not popular to hate commies, anymore." Eric paused and looked at Yamara deeply. "You get any one of them backed into a corner and confronted by someone who wanted them dead and I bet you any money that 99 out of 100 would realize that violence does solve some things. They would fight tooth and nail for their own right to live. For themselves or for their children, brother, sister, mother, father, or good old Aunt Sally."

"And that 1 person out of 100?" Yamara asked, silently wondering who Aunt Sally was.

"That punk is already dead, he shit his pants and died of fright as soon as he found out that he couldn't say 'time out!' or 'hey, that isn't fair!' or offer to buy somebody off. His son is crying because mommy and sissy have been raped and killed, or killed then raped, and the family dog just got cooked for dinner. When it comes down to it, violence solves everything. It's the fear of it and the things that can happen when men and women reduce themselves to that level that keeps civilization civil."

Eric took a few deep breaths to calm himself and looked away from her. He had let himself get carried away there, and partly because she goaded him into it. He looked back at her and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I'll get off my soapbox now."

Yamara just shook her head. "No, you're right. I come from a barbaric civilization compared to yours, but maybe it's not so different."

"So who's is better?" Eric asked, watching Yamara intently. The debate had caused her to drop her guard ever so briefly, and now that he was paying attention to it, he found the hidden creature within her thoroughly captivating. He likened her to a scared little girl trying to figure things out.

"I don't know, in mine people who do evil things admit at least to being evil. In yours they know that there are better ways to do things," she said thoughtfully.

Eric chuckled. "Yes, we may know it, but knowing and doing are two separate things."

They both laughed at that and continued to compare the Earth of 2112 with the lands that Yamara had come from and lived in for hours on end. Bill eventually returned and found the two of them still chatting. They quieted down then for a while, and Yamara forced a confrontation between her and Bill to resolve things. Her guardedness returned to the forefront, but she was a little more open about it, at least towards Eric. In him she sensed a faintly kindred spirit. Perhaps not in shared lifestyles or events, but at least in ideals. Or perhaps it was merely that he was someone she had actually opened up to in some small way. She suspected things might get complicated if she was not careful.

Regardless of her own internal turmoil, Yamara talked and Bill listened to her explain her behavior. He even sheepishly admitted a small apology of his own. Things were mildly uncomfortable for a little while longer, but they returned to normal rapidly.

With only a few hours until dawn they finally went to sleep. It was nearly noon before they were ready to be on the road again, though they felt quite recharged in spite of the short night. New possibilities and responsibilities awaited them. Florida loomed on the near horizon both as beacon of hope and a grim storm cloud of despair.

Chapter 11

Kromlin bent over, carefully sifting through the mounds of treasure. He pocketed a few finely cut rubies. Looking back over his shoulder he saw that his remaining companion was busy inspecting the dead dragons body. Kromlin's hand struck something hard. Looking down he saw that it was a finely crafted and bejeweled sword hilt. He drew the sword out of the treasure very slowly. It was a beautifully wrought sword. A four foot long sword such as this should have taken even the mightiest warrior two hands to wield. However, Kromlin could swing it around like a kitchen knife.

"Kromlin! Get yerself over here!" The burly fighter shouted.

"Coming Martak," Kromlin replied as he slid his new found weapon into its sheath and buckled it on his weapons belt.

"Wha's dat?" Martak asked.

"Just a magicked blade." He responded.

"Powerful?"

"No. Just a little lighter than it should be and it looks good."

Martak grunted and quickly lost interest.

Kromlin suddenly had an unstoppable urge to hack at the dragons body. He drew his sword out and plunged it into the dragons corpse in a blur of motion.

"Wha' the 'ell ye doin'!" Martak screamed at him.

Kromlin withdrew the blade in disgust. "I don't know... I guess it was anger at how our friend died at this beasts claws."

Once again Martak grunted and returned to searching for anything valuable.

Kromlin stared down at the blade in horror. Never before had he done something as vile or unnecessary. Desecrating the dead, beast or not, was not something a noble warrior did. Two final things disturbed him; the blade was warm in his hands and it had no blood on it.

After finding a few more valuables and a suit of chain mail to replace his dragon ruined armor, Kromlin left. He and Martak buried their wizard friend, Dunagol, just outside of the dragons cave.

They then marched back to the town that had petitioned them to slay the dragon. After a day of walking they stopped and made camp. Knowing that Martak was not much of a conversationalist, Kromlin sat down on a stump to take first watch. He found himself wondering how long it would take Martak to die from a sword thrust.

After another half a day of walking they made it back to Valingden. It was a small town of mostly peasants who until just recently were under the terror of a pillaging dragon.

"It's dead!" Martak shouted in triumph.

The townspeople looked up from their various chores at him in astonishment. Recognizing the dragon hunters they flocked to them while the cry went through town.

A sudden fit of anger overtook Kromlin, these insolent peasants dared to attempt to surround him and touch him. In a flash of motion he drew his word and held it above him.

The townspeople near him fell down to the ground to kneel before him as understanding of what he was about to do flooded through him. To cover up he said, "Now that I have your attention, Martak and I lost our wizard to the drake. Has any of you the skill of a magi?"

A man in the back of the growing throng of people said nervously, "I know a few small tricks my lord. Brombar is my name."

"Well Brombar, show us what you can do."

The man concentrated for a moment then raised his hand and said a single word. A pencil thin beam of red light shot out from his index finger and struck a nearby shed. The small wooden building burst into flame and then exploded. All that remained was a crater where it once stood.

"Impressive Brombar. What would that do to a human?" Kromlin asked.

In response Brombar once again cast the spell. This time he pointed at a peasant that was running up to join the crowd.

The man screamed as his stomach and internal organs were disintegrated by the red beam. Then he was incinerated in an intense explosion.

The crowd cheered at the man's magical skills. No one seemed to notice or care about the child that ran out to find where his father had gone, scorching his feet on the blackened ground.

"Well done Brombar. As you may know, my name is Kromlin and this is Martak. Would you care to join us in our adventuring life?" Kromlin asked, already knowing the man's answer.

"My lord, I would follow you wherever you commanded!"

"Loyal, isn't he." Kromlin said to Martak.

Martak merely grunted while staring at Kromlin's sword with greed.

Kromlin, living up the moment, did not notice the strange look in Martak's eyes. "We shall leave this noble village tomorrow," Kromlin said, once again addressing the town's folk. "But first we must have a place to rest tonight."

Cries of protest went up. First because Kromlin was going to leave, then because they all wanted to play host to him. Fights broke out over the last reason.

Kromlin smiled and let them decide amongst themselves. It was nice to have slaves.

*****

Kromlin smiled to himself. It had been a while since he had slept without the worry of a threat of some sort. This peasant, he had forgotten his name, had managed to impress Kromlin enough that he chose to stay at the peasants home for the night.

Martak and he shared a small room. Martak was sitting on his bed running a whetstone over his double edged battle axe.

Secretly Kromlin hoped that Brombar was a bit more talkative than Martak. He would find that out tomorrow, he told himself.

Martak watched out of the corner of his eye while Kromlin lay down on his bed to go to sleep. He waited for Kromlin's breathing to become even and regular before he acted.

Slowly Martak stood up and walked over beside Kromlin. With a shaking hand he reached down and touched Kromlin's sword. He could not help his sharp intake of breath as he wrenched his hand back from the sword. His fingers had been badly burned.

Kromlin's eyes snapped open. He reached down and unsheathed the sword without a word. Martak was going to try to talk his way out of the situation but the murderous glare in Kromlin's eyes told him that no excuse would be good enough.

Martak took a quick step backward and grabbed his battle axe. His burnt fingers forgotten, he swung it with all of his might at Kromlin's head. Kromlin easily ducked under the blow and thrust upwards with his sword. Martak's axe was back in time to block it.

Martak parried the sword with the axes edge and swung the end of the haft up in to Kromlin's face, breaking his nose. Kromlin acted as if he did not know he had been wounded. Kromlin lifted his sword and swung downwards, meaning to cleave Martak's skull in twain. The sword, acting of its own volition, drew back as Martak's axe swept by and missed the parry. Then it plunged forward, thrusting itself deeply into Martak's chest.

Martak stared down at the sword, at first in astonishment that the blade had lodged itself in his chest, then in intense pain. The sword first turned pink, then blood red. Finally, after a few minutes, Martak's bloodless corpse fell down.

"What have I done!" Kromlin said quietly in anguish. He tried to hurl the blade away from him as far as possible but his fingers would not let go of it.

Somebody timidly knocked at the door.

"Go away!" Kromlin shouted.

The door opened slowly, squeaking as rusty hinges will. The peasants wife looked in.

"Is there a problem my lord? Perhaps..." She started to say but screamed in horror when she saw Martak's corpse.

A new anger seized Kromlin. He swung the sword and the woman's head rolled down beside Martak. Her body stood there, not realizing that it was dead. Then it too joined the ever growing pile.

Kromlin looked at what he had done in anguish. He fled out of the house and ran out into the night, the sword still in his hand. He did not know how far he ran, nor did he care. Every time he looked back he saw either Martak's or the peasant woman's face. All he knew was that he had to get away from there.

He glanced back on final time, this time seeing the face of the man that Brombar had blown up. It did not matter, however, because his feet were no longer on the ground.

He looked down and noticed that he had stepped off of the edge of a thirty or so foot high cliff. A broken leg or two should have been all that would happen to Kromlin. As the ground rushed to meet him the sword twisted in his hand. When Kromlin hit the ground the impact forced the sword into his side and up through his chest.

Chapter 12

In the true fashion of a low budget action movie, the headquarters of the reformed Church of Bavorish was an armed camp made even more unapproachable by the teeming wildlife of the Florida Everglades. The three unlikely companions had staked it out for two days already, keeping a day and night vigil by rotating shifts. Their approach was made with a wood and canvas canoe to keep noise to a minimum.

Infiltrating the compound they had done with ease, being veterans of numerous missions requiring stealth and secrecy. Now they lay waiting within the inner sanctum of the Church of Bavorish, concealed within the robes of acolytes they had knocked unconscious on their way in. Well, one of them was knocked unconscious. Yamara had broken the neck of the one she had targeted, and Bill had pounded his victim a bit to hard on the skull with the butt of his pistol.

The mob of humanity's worst specimens grew more and more unruly as the opening ceremonies of the unholy mass began. Many times it was only the armed guards that kept some of the more adventurous worshippers from jumping onto one of the stages where minor orgies were going on.

All three of the intruders could feel something in the air slowly building. It tingled and caressed the hair on their skin seductively and made tiny shivers run up and down the backs of their neck. Eric remembered the feeling all too well. It was a hundredfold more powerful then the feelings he had felt when the intruders had stolen Alesha's sword from him. Thinking back, he realized it was nothing compared to the power he had felt around him when he had accompanied Kelnozz and Garrick to defeat Alesha so many years before. That brought a shiver to his back. Every memory of Alesha caused his skin to crawl. The woman scared him in a way nothing else ever could.

Yamara knew the power around her as well. It reminded her of her youth, growing up in Ossulmere with its dark Gods. She bit back the bile in her throat and kept her thoughts free from any of the nightmares that had plagued her youth. She caught herself wondering how Evart would have faced this challenge with her. She reprimanded herself silently and viciously almost immediately. Evart was not with her and thinking of him would only distract her. She could not afford such a weakness. More then weakness. Foolishness.

Bill only knew that there was something powerful and weird going on. He likened it to a Hell's Angel party he had been to once years past, though that had been nothing compared to this. Scary thing about the church was that the people were all wacked out without the benefit of beer or drugs. He whistled so softly he could not be heard and muttered, "There's some bad mojo risin."

The couples and groups scattered about on the various daises drew their sexual activities to an end almost simultaneously. It added to the eerie atmosphere. Bill glanced at the other two, wondering what he had let them get him in to.

Almost as if to answer his question the faithful churchgoers fell to their knees, prostrating themselves dutifully. They began a low chant, the hum and tone of it making Eric, Bill, and Yamara break out in a cold sweat. Their stomachs tightened and clenched nervously.

A man wearing a black cape emerged then, seeming to walk out of the wall. It would have seemed some parlor magicians trick had the atmosphere not been as charged. The worshippers leapt to their feet, cheering raucously. He held up his hands then, bringing them to a thundering silence.

"Brothers and sisters," He said, his voice low and ominous. "Tonight we bring back she who showed us the path to truth!"

Cheering erupted from the crowd, jostling the companions as they stood trying to fit in. The high priest, Alesha's younger brother Brian, let it go on for a moment before he raised his arms to call down silence upon the shrine. His cloak rose up with his arms and spread, showing him to be naked underneath. It also showed how the atmosphere of the room had affected him, giving him an unnaturally engorged phallus.

"The charlatan Lazarus is not the only one able to return from the dead! He alone can not be saved from eternal damnation!"

More cheering erupted. Bill's his eyes were wide with disbelief and his head bobbed with each throbbing pulse of Brian's heart that caused his immense penis to pulse up and down.

"See something you like?" Eric whispered to him, raising his own hand in a mock cheer to try and keep their cover.

Bill shook his head and favored Eric with a scowl. "Hell no, you prick!" He grunted. "Just amazed is all, that shit ain't right!"

Eric grinned. Bill was right, it was totally unnatural. Brian appeared to be hung like a horse. Yamara glanced briefly at the two of them and rolled her eyes. From one world to another, it seemed, boys would be boys.

"Who would be the sacrifice for this blessed event? Who will go down in history as the one who was responsible for bringing our beloved queen back to us?" Brian shouted, holding his arms out to the crowd in an open embrace.

A young black girl, no more then 12 or 13, was led up onto the stage. She was dressed in a simple white cotton robe. The woman who held her hand looked enough like her to convince anyone they were related. She was naked and displaying her still young but exceptionally nubile body with pride as she walked.

"I give you my sister, Brother Brian," the older girl said. The younger girl began to sob quietly then, but held her ground and looked up at the massive penis standing at attention in front of her for a long moment. Then, bravely, she raised her eyes to look at Brian's face. The crowd had gone quiet, watching with rapt attention.

"Y... You'll let Kelly go if I do this, right?" The young girl asked, a tremor in her voice.

Brian smiled angelically down to her. "Of course I will, sweetheart. Kelly will go back to your mommy and daddy when this is over and you'll never be worried again."

Eric and Bill felt the wrongness of the situation. It crawled over their skin and made them fight to keep from itching at themselves. Yamara bit down a shudder deep inside of her, it reminded her all to much of her own childhood. She had never been a part of such things, but she had seen others go to a bloody altar and never return.

The child turned to her sister, who smiled adoringly down at her. She took a deep breath and pulled her cotton robe up and off her shoulders. She wore nothing underneath, displaying her pubescent body to the crowd. Her breasts had only begun to swell, reaching only an A cup at her age but on their way to joining her sister in the heavy C or D cup range with age that she would never reach. Her sparse growth of pubic hair below told of her youth as well.

The girl hopped up on the alter, a fair climb for her but only waist high for an adult, and laid upon it with her chest rising and falling rapidly. Brian moved to the foot of the altar and Kelly, her older sister, moved to the head of it.

A low vibration had started in the room then. It was so subtle that it took a moment for Eric and Bill to realize it was the noise of everybody in the room humming. Yamara had already noted and ignored it. She itched to take action but knew that moving to quickly would only get them killed. She ground her teeth and cursed silently at the things that were going to take place. The things that had to take place in order for them to accomplish what they had set out to do.

Brian placed the tip of his gargantuan cock against the virgin opening of the young girl. She stared straight up into the flickering shadows that concealed the ceiling. Instead of standard electricity the temple used torches for light, which cast the room into a nightmarish mixture of dancing lights and shadows. Kelly reached down and placed her hands on her sisters shoulders, keeping her in place.

With a thrust totally unrelated to anything gentle, Brian thrust his member deep into the girl. She screamed as he spread her wider then her young body could handle, tearing not only her hymen but the walls of her vagina as well. He thrust into her roughly and rapidly, sawing in and out and coating himself with her blood to aid his raping of her. She cried and thrashed but her sister held her down, grinning maniacally all the while.

After several minutes she began to relax. Her will to fight had been broken. Even her sobs lessened. She looked down once at the ruin that was between her legs, watching for a spirit crushing moment as Brian hammered as much of his equine-sized cock into her over and over again. Then her head fell back and she stared catatonically at the ceiling. What happened to her then no longer mattered, her mind had already died.

Brian looked to Kelly and nodded. She picked up Alesha's sword from a cart behind the altar and handed it to him reverently. He held it high in the air, point down, and picked up the pace of his thrusts. In a matter of second it was evident from his spasms and the look upon his face that he was filling the girls ruined pussy with his cum.

Bill felt something hit him in the back of the arm then. He turned around, the surprise of the contact breaking the sickening helplessness with which he watched the events unfold. What he saw made his eyes widen in first surprise then outrage. All around them the members of the congregation has been masturbating and were cumming as well. Raising his arm he saw a long rope of thick cum dripping down it. A woman on his side saw it and grabbed his arm quickly to suck it off of him ravenously.

Eric saw what was happening to Bill and others around him, he was faint with shock. It was unlike anything he had ever imagined. A giant orgy centered around the raping of a helpless little girl who had been brought her because of her selfless love for her sister. He wanted to puke. First he wanted to kill every sick son of a bitch in the room, then he wanted to puke. Inside of his cloak his hand tightened on the M-4 he carried. The safety flicked off and he prepared to use it, the hell with their mission.

Yamara's hand rested on his arm then. She looked at him with an empty and cold mask clearly in her features. She shook her head and told him in a dead voice, "Wait, it's almost time."

Brian pulled himself out of the girl, his cock still shooting out incredibly thick bursts of cum. Kelly fell upon her in a 69, slurping away at the bloody mess that lay between her sisters legs. Brian's arms fell then, bringing the blade down upon both girls and impaling them together. The final ropes of his jism landing upon Kelly's hair and shoulderblades. The girls spasmed around the impaling blade, Kelly actually orgasming as she died from the pain and the release.

"Now!" Yamara said, rushing forward through the distracted crowd.

Brian raised his hands away from the blade and fell to his knees worshipfully. On top of the altar, with the sword resting in the middle of it, a glowing nimbus of light appeared. It grew rapidly, becoming elliptical in shape. Yamara knew it instantly to be a portal to another world; she had seen far to many of them in her young life already.

Eric opened up then with his M-4, squeezing the trigger and not letting go. He fought the recoil with a two handed grip and was able to rake it back and forth into the crowd, sending bodies crashing to the ground as the bullets knifed through them. Bill opened up a moment later, starting first by firing a burst into the man that had painted his arm with cum, then clearing a wide arc behind them.

Both men clicked empty and hurried to reload. Brian was in shock at the first reports of gunfire, looking about amazed at any who would dare to interrupt his most unholy of ceremonies.

Standing up and glaring at Eric and Bill, he shouted, "Kill them!". Instantly all attention was on them. So much so that Yamara had no trouble getting through the crowd and leaping up onto the stage.

Back to back, Eric and Bill fired as quickly as they could, using burst and single fire to keep the mob of humanity away from them. Too little, it seemed, versus so many people in a close space. They were seconds away from being overrun when Brian again screamed out.

"Nooooo! I will not be denied!"

Everyone's attention shifted to the stage. Yamara stood behind him, her most vicious looking dagger piercing into him from behind to the hilt. He shuddered for a moment as he stood there, then slowly collapsed to his knees.

Momentarily forgotten, Eric grabbed Bill and pulled him toward the altar. They rushed forward, stepping over the bodies before the worshippers could recover and come at them.

Yamara pulled her dagger free and drew her short sword. She swung it across and decapitated the high priest. His body crashed off the stage and into the front row of stunned worshippers. His head bounced once dully then lay still on the stage. His eyes blinked several times, furiously at first, then piteously as tears began streaming from his eyes. By the time he had passed out and then died, Yamara had leapt onto the altar and stood on the verge of the portal.

Eric watched and cursed. If she left them now they were as good as dead. Already people were coming around and giving chase to them. Then again, if she did not leave them they were not much better off. He did not like their chances. Bill fired the last rounds from his magazine ahead of them to clear a path and they plunged on. Someone grabbed Eric's gun. Rather then fight against them, he let it go, knowing that speed was his only defensive weapon left.

Yamara teetered on the edge of the portal. She could step in and grab the sword on her way and she knew it. She suspected it would close the magical rift and that would be that. Her mission accomplished, no baggage in the form of Eric or Bill to worry about. She lifted her foot and then cursed.

Eric was scrambling onto the stage then, with Bill a heartbeat behind him. Hands clutched at them, tearing their cloaks and showing their body armor beneath, not to mention slowing them down and digging bloody furrows in their skin whenever possible. Then the loud report of a pistol went off. Once first, then several more shots after a brief pause. Eric looked up and saw Yamara aiming, rather poorly he thought, at the people grabbing at him and Bill. He grunted when he felt one of the poorly aimed bullets hit him in the Kevlar plate in the back of his vest as he scrambled over the lip of the stage. Then he turned around to give Bill a hand. They were running again then, only a few feet but with a horde of bloodthirsty zealots on their heels, it felt like a 1000 yards.

"Into the portal!" Yamara snapped at them, fumbling a fresh clip into her pistol and firing it somewhat randomly and wildly into the crowd of bodies that were pushing up onto the stage.

Bill looked at Eric, confused, then let his friend pull him onto the altar and into the glowing light. Yamara waited a second longer, emptying her clip before throwing the gun at the closest pursuer. She stepped into the portal and grabbed the sword at the same time, pulling it out of the dead sisters' bodies.

Chapter 13

The group of orcs moved through the gully noisily with only the full moonlight to guide them. 20 strong, the band followed their leader unhappily. The knew that nearby was a settlement of humans that had almost no defenses. It was ripe for the taking, and no doubt filled with food and riches, as all human cities were. Nonetheless, the orc leader refused to let them go to it. When one orc had tried, a warrior named Gogruk, the leader had knocked him senseless with his club for several minutes. Now Gogruk nursed his injury and stayed in the rear of the band, thinking dark thoughts and eyeing the leaders back venomously.

A cry of surprise from one of the orcs in the front of the band drew the leaders attention. He rushed forward to see what was happening. The scout had found a human corpse, dead for some time but remarkably preserved. Kashim, the orc leader flipped the human's body over and grunted in surprise at how desiccated the man looked. His grunt died away when he saw the weapon that had slain the man, it lay underneath of the body and shone clearly in the moonlight. Exposed to the elements with only the corpse for protection it nonetheless was untouched by the weather.

Kashim bent over and picked it up, knowing only that he had to possess it. Not even fully straightened, Gogruk was on him. Gogruk beat his hands against Kashim's back and snarled loudly at him. Kashim crashed to the ground under the force of the blow, rolling away as best he could but not dropped the sword. Gogruk followed, trying to kick him.

Gogruk's attack was shortened when he followed to closely and too quickly. The tip of the sword poked into his belly and up into his chest, the handle gripped strongly by Kashim. Gogruk stood there for a moment, swaying back and forth as the telltale signs of drinking stained the sword's blade. Kashim grinned fiercely at the site. In moments Gogruk collapsed to the ground, as dead and bloodless as Kromlin's body was nearby.

Kashim stood then and surveyed his remaining 18 orcs. They were messengers sent from The Lost Lands beyond the Periphery. Their mission was to find word of the very sword that Kashim now held in his hand by reaching the tribe of orcs underneath of Trillindad in the long abandoned dwarven ruins.

The ruins served no purpose anymore save for a haven for thieves, smugglers, monsters, and worse. Multiple levels deep, the dwarves had long since mined the last of the precious metals out of it while Trillindad was still young. Long since abandoned, they filled up with every imaginable creature right under the noses of the largest single city of men. Not merely men lived in Trillindad, but many others as well, Halflings, Dark Elves, and still some Dwarves.

Now that Kashim had the sword though, his sense of urgency changed. He studied his patrol, wondering if any of the others would attack him as well. He welcomed the chance to prove his might, sensing the blade in his hand would be more then willing to feed again. None showed any desire for conflict. Instead they seemed meeker; more willing to follow his lead. Kashim grinned, another idea came to him.

"To Trillindad!" He cried out, turning in the direction they had been heading. Full of energy, Kashim set a hard pace and led them onward to the city. His plan was to meet up with the tribe of orcs under the city, and then to take them over and instill himself as their chieftain!

Chapter 14

They stepped onto a sandy beech that was unlike anything that they had ever seen before. Well, all except for Yamara. She had been there before, but it never ceased to amaze her. The solitude of the world was oppressive, even though animals, insects, fish, and other natural but non-sentient creatures flourished.

"What the hell?" Bill asked, staring around tropical paradise.

"Eric, what's going on? I don't remember eating any 'shrooms man!"

Eric just shook his head. Something bumped into him from behind then. Turning around he saw that it was Yamara, with Alesha's short sword in her hand. He felt relieved to see it and then concerned. He was the one charged with keeping it safe, he should have it in his possession, not her. Then again, he had not exactly done the best job when he had kept it.

"This must be where Kelnozz took Alesha!" Eric said as he suddenly realized where they were.

Bill opened his mouth to respond when they all heard a sudden intake of breath. Turning as one to Bill, they noticed that his eyes were dangerously close to popping out of his head. On top of that, his mouth had fallen open and might have reached the ground if his cheeks had not kept it attached to his head.

Following his gaze Eric saw a Goddess walking towards them with the most beautiful smile on her face he had ever seen an earthly women wear. She wore a simple brown tunic made from the hide of some animal native to the world and a matching pair of leather moccasins. In spite of the simplicity of the outfit, or perhaps because of it, she looked raw, natural, and bursting with exotic beauty. His eyes widened at how incredible she looked and he fought down the urge to fall to his knees and grovel before her. He did then as he always did when he had an unpleasant or unfamiliar emotion to deal with, he twisted it into anger and glared at her hatefully. This was the bitch that had corrupted and murdered at least hundreds of otherwise innocent people. The same one that teased and tormented him in his dreams.

"Knock it off, Cowboy, that's the prime evil bitch I told you about," Eric hissed at him. "She can suck the chrome off your hog without batting an eye, but she'd pull your soul out with it."

"I think I'd let her," he said quietly, staring at Alesha as she hurried over to them.

Yamara started forward, a guarded but happy expression on her face. Eric reached out and grabbed her arm, drawing a glare from her that nearly manifested itself in pins and needles poking him in the eyes. He endured it without expression and said to her, "We have her sword, don't be so quick to put it within her reach until we know more about her."

Yamara's look of annoyance grew, but she nodded. What Eric did not realize was that she was annoyed with herself for nearly making that mistake he had just warned her about. Very against her way of doing things. Apparently Alesha's beauty and charisma had affected even her. That and Yamara remembered how energetic and powerful there lovemaking had been the last time she was there.

Alesha stopped before them, smiling broadly at Yamara. Her eyes traveled down Yamara's body suggestively, then stopped when they saw the sword in her hand. She gasped slightly and brought one hand to her mouth nervously. Then she turned and looked more closely at Yamara's companions. Her eyes appraised Bill quickly and moved on. She stopped when she recognized Eric and further recognized the look in his eyes and stiffened up.

"You brought it back to me," she said, returning her gaze to Yamara.

"We did," Yamara answered coolly. "Do you still want it?"

Alesha took a deep breath before she answered. "I... I'm not sure anymore. Part of me does and part of me does not. I like it here, but I would give anything to leave. Yet I am terrified to leave for fear of what may happen to me."

"What may happen to you?" Eric asked coldly, refusing for even a second to let the incredible attraction she unconsciously oozed affect him.

"Bavorish may come for me," she said, meeting his gaze and, to a lesser effect, his tone. "Here I am safe from him, even if he himself journeyed here he would be powerless to do harm to me. On any other world I would be safer as well, but still his reach is wide and he may send his minions after me. Were I to return to Viconia I would be on his doorstep and surely he would come."

"We'd help you," Bill blurted out, blushing at his sudden outburst. Eric and Yamara both looked at him incredulously. "Well, I'd help you," he muttered upon seeing their reactions.

Alesha smiled sadly and asked him, "Who are you?"

Bill gushed nervously and brushed offered her his hand that was not holding his M-4 still. "Bill Williams, ma'am, at your service. Some people call me Cowboy though."

She smiled and shook his hand with the gentility of a brothel hostess. "Cowboy? Who calls you Cowboy?"

Bill blushed and nodded at Eric. "Mostly just him."

Alesha laughed a delighted little chuckle that had even Eric's ice cold heart warming up. He had to admit, she was good.

"I like Cowboy, it reminds me of Earth," she said to him. "So Cowboy you would help protect me from Bavorish? He is the same thing on Viconia that Satan is on Earth. Except he's worse. Satan and God, if either even exists, just sit back and let their worshippers do their own thing with no granted powers or anything. The Gods of Viconia give their followers powers. Great magic they can use to heal, hurt, or worse. Even more then just his magic is his armies and followers. Trapped inside that sword Yamara is holding is one of his minions, fairly powerful amongst them all but nowhere near the top. His name is Talifernon, and he is a demon that stands 12 feet tall and has four arms. Think you could fight him off to protect me?"

Bill puffed up his chest subconsciously and shrugged. Before he could make a further ass of himself Eric interrupted him. "If you're not sure if you even want your blade back, why did you send Yamara after it? After me? I am its sworn protector, it is my job to keep it out of your hands."

"Looks like you've done a great job holding onto it so far," She said sweetly to him.

Eric bristled at her remark but kept his calm. "Answer the question, damnit."

"I thought I wanted it back. I thought I was ready to try to get out of here," she explained. "Now that it is here and almost mine again, I have my doubts. I am scared. I did terrible things before, I don't want to do them again."

"If you wanted it so badly, you could just take it, from what they tell me about you, right?" Bill asked, trying to help her case and win her favor.

At any other time Eric might have chuckled at how juvenile Bill was acting. Right then and there, however, was not the time. Alesha, of all people came to the rescue.

"No," she said, staring alternately at Eric and Yamara. "I could not. In this place only things that are freely given may be taken."

Eric wondered why she had admitted as much. Either she was being genuine in her distress and confusion or perhaps instead she was trying to lull them into a false sense of security. An idea tripped in the back of his head and he nearly grinned at the thought of it. Time to see her true nature.

"Your brother is dead," he said calmly.

Alesha blinked a few times, off balance at the news. Finally she simply asked, "How?"

"I killed him after he raped a child and then killed both her and her sister that he ensorcelled into performing an incestuous act. The ritual was designed to open a portal to here so he could come and rescue you." Yamara said. She was on the same mental path Eric was, apparently, her old suspicious nature rising.

Alesha nodded and walked over to bar stool and sat down, the slit up the side of her dress exposing a criminal amount of leg. She sighed. "I was afraid he would do something like that. More innocent blood on my head." She blinked back tears and refused to look at any of them for several long minutes.

Finally she looked back at them, the warm and happy expression from earlier gone. In its place was a somber mask. "I'm sorry to do this to you all, especially you, Yamara, but do you mind if I have some time by myself. I need to think about all this."

The three looked at each other, each shrugging in his or her own way. Seeing this, Alesha smiled a sad thanks and got up. She wandered along the beach until she passed around a small point and disappeared.

"Jesus man, you never told me she looked like that!" Bill said when she was finally gone. He still stared after her.

"Easy Cowboy, that's one filly you don't want any of. She'll fuck you so good you think you died and went to heaven. Only problem is, the reality is that you're in hell." Eric returned. He turned to look at Yamara then, wondering what her response to it all was.

She looked at him, her face an impassive mask. Finally she seemed to make a decision. She raised the sword up to him and said, "Here, take this. You vowed to protect it, I leave it in your care again. You hate her more then anyone else here, but you won't let that color your judgment of her I don't think."

Eric took the sword and slipped it into his belt. Any sudden movements would probably cause the razor sharp edge to cut through the leather of his belt, but he figured if he was careful it should be okay. He nodded to her, glad to once again have it in his possession, even if he was not sure whether he really deserved it or not anymore.

"I need a beer," Eric muttered, glancing around and wishing the world was not all but abandoned.

Bill nodded absentmindedly, still watching the beach where Alesha's footprints led off too. Yamara stood uncertainly for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do, then she headed off into the woods. Caught up in their own thoughts, neither Eric nor Bill noticed where she had gone to specifically.

Chapter 15

It had taken many months, but at long last Kelnozz and Darakor had tracked the black dragon to the hamlet of Valingden. A small farming community, it's one claim to fame was the dragon which raided the community from time to time. Now rumor had it that the dragon was slain by a small band of mighty adventurers.

Inquires throughout the village painted a gruesome tale. Three adventurers had set out for the dragon's laid. Two had returned. In addition to the standard gold and jewels of the dragons hoard they had also returned with a magnificent sword. The man who wielded it, Kromlin, had become the envy of every man in town and the subject of desire for every woman.

The very night of their returned the swords insidious magic worked upon him and led him to slay his remaining companion and the owners of the house they rested in. His crimes piled upon him and he fled into the wilderness to the north of town. None had dared follow him, believing his fight with the dragon had driven him mad. The townsfolk did rue the loss of his sword, however, for it might have come in handy to defend the town. From what no one could say, Valingden was only 2 days ride from Trillindad and thus well within their protection.

Kelnozz and Darakor set out at once, heading along the suggested course that Kromlin had taken. They were several weeks late, but that was the best lead they had been given for some time.

Darakor lowered his hood as they hiked through the tall grasses of plains. Small groups of trees dotted the landscape, but primarily it consisted of the tall grass swaying in the wind that came up to their chests. "I yearn for the day when I can go about without hiding my heritage," he muttered loudly. Every town they met he had to either have his hood about him or drink a magical potion that made him look a pale and sickly human.

"You and I will live long enough, my friend, that I pray that will happen," Kelnozz said with a faint smile. He too wished his apprentice could rid himself of disguise. His skill and his spirit were too good to remain hidden away from the world, no matter the nature of his race. Kelnozz has long become accustomed to the simple fact that in training and befriending Darakor, he had taken a major step in healing the wound left in him from his own father's murder by light elves. He still considered them dangerous enemies, but he acknowledged that perhaps someday they might be taught to see the error of their ways.

"It will be a good day," Darakor said, a strange light in his eyes. "Perhaps sooner then we think."

Kelnozz chuckled. "Aye, perhaps. We must always hope!"

Soon they came across the ridge that Kromlin had fallen off of not so long ago. Descending it nimbly they quickly discovered not one but two bodies. Both were desiccated and shrunken in on themselves, making it readily apparent that despite the length of time between discovery and death they had been drained dry of any liquid. Indeed, the weather alone seemed to be affecting them adversely, for the animals of the region gave them a wide birth.

Rain and time had made the orc's trail impossible to find, but Kelnozz felt certain only one direction made sense. "Trillindad," he said.

Darakor looked in the direction of the large city then back along the gully to the north west. "You sure? If the orcs have Cirithallion wouldn't they be taking it back to The Lost Lands, to return it to Mezarbolle?"

Kelnozz glanced to the northwest and pondered the idea. At length he said, "Was it an elf I would agree. Even a human perhaps, though they are often not so strong of will. But an orc? Nay, my friend. An orc would be overcome with visions of grandeur. He would seek only to better himself at the expense of anything and anyone around him."

Darakor's face remained impassive. "True enough, orcs are reliable and dependable in their lack of vision and single-mindedness."

Kelnozz chuckled, Darakor's upbringing had given him an expert firsthand opinion on many of the evil races throughout Viconia. "Let us be off, the ruins beneath Trillindad have been too long without a cleaning, methinks!"

Darakor shared Kelnozz's grin. At times like this he truly felt a connection to the dark skinned elf. The bond between them, though sometimes so minimal as to be non-existent, felt almost unbreakable at other times. It confused Darakor, for he had grown up amongst a people that knew no bonds. Light elves knew nothing of honor, friendship, or love. They knew only a semblance of duty and power. He had journeyed with Kelnozz for hundreds of years now and had only gotten close enough to understanding those alien values that he began to long for a closure to his own youth. Had he known Kelnozz's mind on the matter, he would have been struck at the irony of how alike they were in that aspect.

But combat he understood. Together he and Kelnozz formed an unstoppable pair. He grew quicker and faster over the years under the dark elf's tutelage and had begun to wonder recently if perhaps he had even progressed to the point of being Kelnozz's equal. A part of him even wondered if perhaps he was better. Regardless, when fighting side by side their kinship knew no bounds. Darakor only wished he had shared that relationship with his own father when he had apprenticed under him to be a wizard.

They set off then, moving at a steady jog towards Trillindad. It had taken many years for Darakor's stamina to match that of Kelnozz; the dark elf seemed tireless in any endeavor he undertook. His speed was legendary as well, something Darakor wondered, at times, if it was a holdover from his time spent in the company of those who had become Gods of Viconia. Until he was able to run beside the dark elf all night and all day, he too had considered it impossible.

They ran through the night, excited at the prospect of closing once again on their nimble prey. For an inanimate object, Cirithallion had proven most adept at avoiding them. As morning dawned they saw the sun rise behind the towers and walls of Trillindad. The city was not their destination, however. Instead, they angled off for a little known passage that Kelnozz had long ago discovered led into the abandoned dwarven mines beneath the city.

*****

Two of them were Humans, the third a halfling. Kelnozz mentally shook his head, wondering what they could possibly be doing underground. He drew his blades quietly and waited beside the passage for the group to pass him.

In a few moments, the adventurers walked right past them, and Kelnozz laid his swords on the shoulders of the rear one, a human wearing plate mail with a long sword sheathed at his side.

"Uh, guys..." The human said, stopping immediately and standing still.

"Would you be quiet, Owsley! You are already making enough noise to alert every creature down here of our presence!" The halfling said angrily.

The lead human, however, turned around to see what was happening. He wore no armor save a pair of pants and wielded no visible weapon.

"Fildo," He said calmly. "Shut up and turn around."

"What!" The halfling said, thoroughly irritated. "Oh..."

The halfling, Fildo, turned back around to the direction they had been heading, preparing to run for his life when he saw another figure standing where no one had been before. This one was the yang to Kelnozz's ying; a light elf.

"Who are you and what are you doing on dwarven property?" Kelnozz asked them, already certain they were more of a danger to themselves then to him.

"Who are we? Who are you!" Fildo said.

"Uh, Fildo, He has two swords at my neck," Owsley said rather matter-of-factly.

"Oh, right, so he does. Well, I am Fildo Burrfoot, expert treasure hunter."

The seemingly unarmed human spoke next, "Tarascus Focht."

"And I'm Owsley," The captive said at last.

"Good, now what are you doing down here?" Kelnozz asked.

"None of your damn business!" Fildo said angrily.

"We are looking for a family heirloom," Owsley said.

"Damnit, Owsley, you are breaking guild protocol! You will get thrown out for that!" Fildo lectured him.

"What manner of heirloom is this you seek?" Darakor asked, already wishing they had cut first and questioned later.

"A jeweled long sword," Tarascus said, throwing a disapproving glance at the halfling.

"Gods!" The halfling said, throwing his hands up in mid air, "That's right, just tell him everything! Don't you remember the guild master specifically telling us to keep quiet about this?"

"Are you from Trillindad?" Kelnozz asked.

"Of course we are, where else would we be from. I will have you know you are interfering with guild business, not one of the safer things to do, to be sure!" Fildo said, puffing out his chest.

"We seek the same thing," Kelnozz said matter-of-factly

"Well you can't have it, we came here first!" Fildo said impatiently.

"Fildo, let's be reasonable!" Owsley said, beginning to feel truly uncomfortable.

"Fools, it is no family heirloom, it is an artifact of immense evil power, it you possessed it you would be destroyed!" Kelnozz said.

"Ha! According to my sources it is simply a family heirloom that some orcs had stolen!" Fildo said, raising his eyebrows triumphantly and puffing out his chest to make himself look important.

"Then why do you want it?" Tarascus asked, ignoring his diminutive companion. "And why should we believe you, you travel with a light elf!"

"The 'light elf' has a name," Darakor said grimly. "His name is Darakor and while he is not like his kin, he is anxious to return the favor who treat him unkindly."

"It is my life quest to recover and destroy it," Kelnozz said gravely after Darakor's implied threat had reached them all. "If you give us your word you will behave yourselves, we will let you go, but you must return to the surface, for only death awaits you in these tunnels," Kelnozz said.

"Sounds like a good idea to me, I'll leave!" Owsley said.

"Now wait a minute!" Fildo protested.

"Hold a moment, Fildo, I sense some truth in this elf's words. Let us leave him to his task, we have already fought many things down here and will return with a small fortune," Tarascus said to the halfling while staring at Kelnozz.

Fildo grumbled something under his breath and said, "Fine, let's just piss off the guild master. I suppose we can say we didn't find it and be on our way. Cowards!"

Kelnozz smiled and said, "Good, now be on your way, lest I suddenly change my mind and decide that we are enemies!"

Kelnozz lifted his swords and resheathed them. Owsley turned around slowly and looked at his former captor. He grinned like an idiot and the three of them turned and stalked off down a tunnel to the south.

Kelnozz and Darakor turned and began walking north. They stopped after a few moments and doubled back to follow them, for both were certain they had lied to them.

They followed the tunnel until it led into a large underground room with an elaborate statue of a spider in its southern end. The statue was made of pure ebony, and easily stood twelve feet tall. The three adventurers had already entered the room, and a large group of orcs that was worshipping the idol had noticed them.

Kelnozz watched as a battle quickly escalated. The adventurers were outnumbered three to one, but they fought well. That is, until the leader of the orc party drew his sword.

Kelnozz cursed and immediately ran towards the war leader, for he wielded a beautifully wrought bejeweled long sword that practically screamed evil. Owsley also saw the chieftain, however, and having no knowledge of Cirithallion he succumbed to its power and went into a berserk rage.

Owsley began laying about left and right, slaying or wounding orcs without abandon in an attempt to get to the chieftain so he could take the sword from him. Kelnozz was slowed down by a group of four orcs that ran out from a tunnel in the south wall. Darakor advanced as well, but instead of giving battle to the orcs he moved off to the side and stared at the sword with a growing hunger that he fought to resist.

He was only slowed a few moments as he easily cut them apart. He was delayed long enough, however, for Cirithallion had chosen a new wielder, and it betrayed the orc and slid from his grasp. Owsley impaled the war leader on his sword, then let it fall from his grasp, still sheathed in the mortally wounded orcs chest. He bent over and greedily grabbed Cirithallion.

Kelnozz was dimly aware that only a few orcs were left, it seemed that Tarascus used a strange yet powerful form of wrestling and boxing to defeat his opponents, a form that Kelnozz had only seen once before in his life, and that was so long ago that the memories brought pain to him.

Owsley lifted the sword high into the air in exultation, then turned to an orc charging at him and ran him through. As before, Cirithallion refused to be removed prematurely from the wound, and it turned pink at first, then red as it drained the last of the blood from the orcs body. Kelnozz came to an abrupt halt a few yards from Owsley once he had pulled the evil blade free of the corpse.

"Give me that sword, Owsley, or it will destroy you!" Kelnozz demanded.

Owsley looked at the sword, his eyes nearly aglow with power and greed. He turned and looked at Kelnozz and laughed sinisterly. "Rot in the Nine Hells, elf! It is mine!"

Kelnozz easily parried the first lunge aside, then set his own blades to work. In less then a minute, Owsley lay on the ground, severely battered and bruised, yet alive. the Chaos Blade lay at his side, and Kelnozz carefully reached down to pick it up. Owsley watched, to stunned to react, as Kelnozz's hand closed around the hilt of The Sword and he gently picked it up, his face a tightened mask of determination.

Darakor could take no more of the desire rushing through him. He gritted his teeth and let out a strangled moan as his knees gave way. The walls he had constructed in his mind exploded within him, and magical words rushed through his mind. Three centuries of denial were gone in a moment. He had his magic again.

A moment later, Owsley was blinded as a flash of light accompanied a thundering roar and a powerful bolt of lightning that slammed into Kelnozz. Kelnozz flew some ten feet through the air before crashing painfully to the ground. Cirithallion clattered to the floor.

Tarascus and Fildo watched the debacle with growing concern, uncertain as to whose side they should take. When the lightning bolt sprang out from beneath the idol of the spider, they looked at each other and ran to grab Owsley. They reached him and began to drag him back through the tunnel when they saw the light elf emerge from his hiding spot.

Kelnozz turned and tried to regain his feet, but he was still spasming from the electrical shock he had just received. He watched the light elf walk over to where Cirithallion lay and reach down to pick it up.

Darakor picked up Cirithallion and swayed unsteadily as the sword bonded itself to him. He shuddered and then looked up, a different look in his eyes and even his face. He grinned sadistically.

"You disappoint me, teacher," Darakor said. His voice had taken a change in pitch as well. "I expected better from you, of all people."

Kelnozz regained his knees and prepared to spring forward, his vision red with rage. Kelnozz was filled with hatred, not for Darakor, but for Ancaruin and Cirithallion, nothing would get in his way. Nothing would stop him from destroying that sword!

"If you'll excuse me," Darakor said with a flourish and a bow, "I need to be going. I believe my father seeks what resides in this sword. You know him well, Kelnozz, he was like an uncle to you once."

Kelnozz's strength left him at those words. Darakor chanted a few words rapidly and disappeared with a nearly inaudible pop of air rushing in to fill the vacuum his magical exodus had created. Kelnozz remained on his knees.

The cavern was deathly quiet for several minutes with nobody daring to move. Kelnozz remained silent and still, staring blankly at where Darakor had been. He shook his head and tried to understand what had happened. How was it possible that the son of his greatest and most hated enemy had been his apprentice for so long? He had treated Darakor as his own son and brother, sharing things with him that no other knew. How could he have gone so wrong? He was certain that he had trained Darakor about Cirithallion. Darakor knew better then to let Cirithallion tempt him! He knew better then to touch it. Finally Kelnozz took a deep breath and resolved that Cirithallion must have been working on Darakor for many years. Every time they almost had it the sword must have contacted him and twisted him a little further from the path Kelnozz taught him. Then again, Kelnozz realized, he was not dealing with someone who was his flesh and blood, but rather the spawn of the greatest traitor in elven lore.

It never failed, he thought sadly. The lure of power and magic had corrupted enough elves to make them deny their heritage and start a centuries long war that had pitted brother against brother. They had even undergone drastic magical rituals to purge their skin of the blackened look all elves had possessed until that point, making them light elves. Oh, he had known good wizards; Human and dark elf magic users that possessed no avarice or greed in them, but they seemed few and far between. He had even met one light elf who had been warm, kind, and gentle to him, but she was a priestess of nature and not a true mistress of the arcane.

Then there had been Alesha. Inwardly Kelnozz cringed at her memory. It had been countless years since he had visited her. It had hurt him to much each time he went there, so in the end, he kept finding excuses not to go. She had been corrupted by the gift of power as well. His eyes grew moist as he remembered his failures. He had not visited her not because she had become evil, but because he had failed to protect her and shield her from evil. It was because of Alesha that Kelnozz had sworn a vow to never grow close to another until such a time existed that he could protect that person. Such a time seemed to never be possible, the longer he lived.

It was his fault, all of it, somehow. He should have watched over Alesha more carefully. He should have warned Darakor better and kept him away from the blade. He should have even tried harder to keep his own father with him instead of letting him lead the armies of the remaining dark elven nation against the light elves

Seeing the dark elf standing still as a statue, the other three looked about at a loss. Finally Tarascus spoke.

"There's more to you then meets the eye, I think. Who are you?"

Kelnozz turned about slowly and stared Tarascus in the eye. His eyes glimmered in the torchlight wetly, but he blinked them away ere any tears would fall. He deserved no tears, whether they were shed by others or by himself. He sheathed his blades and spoke slowly, defeat in his voice, "I was Kelnozz Risingmoon once, but I am nothing. I have failed in my quest, and soon this world will be nothing."

"What was that sword?" Owsley finally managed to say as he sat up very slowly.

"Kelnozz Risingmoon... Hmm, that name is familiar," Fildo said thoughtfully. "Have we met somewhere before?"

As one, Owsley and Tarascus turned to Fildo and said, "Shut up!"

"That sword is known as Cirithallion, the Chaos Blade. It was forged centuries ago, shortly after the fall of Ancaruin. The smith who forged it was a goodly dwarf, but he had become possessed by a fragmented part of Ancaruin's spirit. He slaved for well nigh a week to craft that blade, and when it was finished it became and instrument of evil," Kelnozz said after he turned back to face Owsley.

"I have sought it for hundreds of years, coming close often but never close enough. Today it was within my grasp, but I failed yet again."

"Who was that light elf, Darakor?" Tarascus asked carefully.

Kelnozz looked squarely at Tarascus and said hollowly, "He was my finest student and the son of the man who nearly destroyed the dark elves."

"Hey! I know you! You're Kelnozz Risingmoon!" Fildo suddenly shouted with excitement.

"Shut up, Fildo!" Tarascus scolded him yet again.

"No damnit, he is the Kelnozz Risingmoon! You know, the one the legends speak of that quested with Gods? The Kelnozz who helped to slay Ancaruin, the Kelnozz to who was one of the first to freely come and go over the Periphery?" Fildo said, staring at Tarascus with disbelief.

Tarascus thought about the legends he had heard for a moment then he turned to Kelnozz and raised an eyebrow.

"I have also slain dragons aplenty and am a welcome member of the council of Sanctuary," Kelnozz said without humor. "Yes, that is me."

"You have been to Sanctuary?" Fildo breathed in awe.

Kelnozz nodded his head silently to Fildo's question. He then turned back to Owsley who was just now somehow regaining his feet.

"Oh, that Kelnozz," Tarascus said sheepishly.

"Can you walk?" Kelnozz asked Owsley.

"I think so," Owsley said. "Look, I'm sorry about what I did, I just lost control when I saw that sword."

Kelnozz shrugged, "Yes, many people have done that when first they saw it wielded. Even Darakor succumbed to its promises at long last." Kelnozz was silent for a long moment, pondering. Had Darakor finally surrendered to it or had he been biding his time all along, waiting for the chance to snatch it out from under him. Finally he looked up at Owsley again. "Very few have wielded it and survived the experience. Be thankful and remember it's madness. To seek it again would leave you ruined."

Owsley nodded. "Trust me, I will never go near it again! I need a week long bath just from holding it in my hand a few scant minutes."

"Leave these tunnels, with the orcs dead others may come soon," Kelnozz advised. He turned and pulled the pendant out from underneath his shirt.

"Wait!" Fildo cried out, running over to him. "Where are you going?"

Kelnozz looked at Fildo, his face conveying a sense of loss the halfling could and would never understand. "Sanctuary," he said quietly.

Fildo opened his mouth to ask another question but before he could Kelnozz disappeared in a flash of light.

Chapter 16

Yamara found Alesha in a grotto that the two of them had visited many times when Yamara had first arrived on the prison world. Alesha was swimming in the warm and briny water of a grotto that seemed to lead out much further into an endless sea.

Yamara sat upon a rocky outcropping and looked down on the supple form of Alesha as she swam through the gentle waves. She studied her for several minutes as Alesha swam about, lost in thought. Finally Alesha looked up and saw her. As always, Alesha's mind was closed to her. It was rare that Yamara tried to exercise her mental powers, but every time she attempted it with Alesha her mind met an impenetrable wall. Eric had been fairly easy to establish contact with back in the bar she had met him in, and Bill had been even easier. It offered her little opportunity in Bill's case, for she had no desire to make him attracted to her, but it had come in handy in seducing Eric initially.

She had also discovered that only through repeated contact and intimacy was she able to share any of her emotions. Ever since the brief time she spent mentally battling Keeden she had never again been able to share her thoughts with anyone or read anyone else's mind. That was a pity, she thought, for having that information would help her make a great many decisions.

Alesha stopped and treaded water, staring up at Yamara. She smiled genuinely for a brief moment, but when Yamara returned only a troubled expression, Alesha sighed and swam in place.

"What do you think, Yamara?" She asked.

"I find myself more and more unsure," Yamara admitted after a minute. "I used to trust myself, you know. I used to always know what had to be done and was willing to do it, regardless of the cost."

"Now I find that sometimes the cost is too high," Yamara finished.

Alesha nodded her head, nearly snorting seawater in the process. She frowned and swam close to sure where her feet could touch the bottom. She stood up then, the top of the water lapping just above her breasts. With only the torches on the shore providing light, the sight of her was mesmerizing.

"I really want to do the right thing," Alesha said, walking towards the shore now and letting the water drip off her artful curves. "I want to never have to worry again about what happened before. I want to forget all about it!"

"To forget about it is to invite it to happen again," Yamara said. She stood up and moved down from the rock she was on towards the sandy beach Alesha was nearing.

"I know," she admitted, stepping out of the water now. A gentle breeze blew around her, conjured up from seemingly nowhere. It brought a swirl of arm air around her, lifting her long dark hair, the only hair on her body, and quickly drying the water from her skin. In moments she was left standing there dry but with hard nipples.

Yamara caught herself staring at her nipples and quickly glanced away. She looked back at Alesha's face and offered a weak smile. "I was ready before I went to your world to get you that sword and stand beside you. But then I saw what your brother did. I saw what he did for you. Not only for you, but because it was what you taught him to do. I saw that and I began to doubt."

Alesha nodded and walked closer to Yamara. She put her hand on her shoulder softly. "I am responsible for the ruining of the lives of more people then I can possibly count. My armies killed thousands in Viconia, though they were mine no longer at that point, I made it all possible. Then on Earth I directly corrupted, coerced, and murdered more people then you could probably imagine, Yamara. I deserved to die. I still do, actually."

"Why Kelnozz spared me I do not know," she whispered, turning away.

"Yes you do," Yamara said, experiencing an odd moment of warmth. She reached out and put her own hand on the soft and smooth skin of Alesha's shoulder. It reminded her of Brina, though Alesha was several inches taller.

"Yes, I do know," Alesha said bitterly. "He knew it was a more fitting torture for me to live knowing what I did then for me to find the sweet release of death."

"No," Yamara said firmly. "I do not know who this Kelnozz is, beyond your words, but I know enough about you to know that he wanted you to live because you are not the person you had become. Bavorish twisted you and made you into someone you are not. So you have pain now, tough shit! We all have pain, Alesha. All of us that deserve the most to live know what it is to lose. The problem I find myself facing as much as you is how to behave once we have reached that point."

"Tough shit?" Alesha asked after she reeled from the verbal slap Yamara had given her. She realized she was feeling sorry for herself and knew it would get her nowhere.

"I learned a few things on your world," Yamara admitted with a wicked grin. "Not sure I understand it yet, but it seemed to fit."

"Aye, it fit very well," she admitted. Then she chuckled. "Okay girl, I am ready for this I think. Gods, I missed you though."

Yamara laughed as well. She found herself face to face and very close to Alesha. She was overpowered by the intoxicating scent of her skin and the mere proximity of her. Their arms went around one another and their lips touched hungrily. They clutched one another firmly, trying to pull the other into them and pushing only with their mouths and tongues against one another.

Then they pulled away from each other. Yamara took a deep shuddering breath. "I'm sorry," whispered, her face flushed.

Alesha looked at her in surprise. "I understand," she said, smiling. "I've seen enough of him to know he's quite a guy."

Yamara looked at her, equally surprised. "No," she stammered. The she laughed. "There's nothing between me and Eric. The problem is Brina... I, um, I realized that you remind me of her. So very different, but somehow you remind me of her."

Alesha raised an eyebrow but smiled encouragingly despite that. "I am sorry, I did not know. That must be painful."

Yamara shrugged and looked away, sniffing once and blinking repeatedly before she looked back. "No, I'm okay. I just have to be sure, you know? Not for fear of corrupting you, that would be impossible if I even bothered caring about! No, I need to be sure for myself because I have a lot to figure out. One of those things is why I am telling you all this! I always keep my problems to myself."

Alesha smirked. "Then maybe it's time you opened up a little. You remind me of a guy. You know, the strong silent type. That's great if you're really trying for the bull-dyke thing though, I guess."

"Bull-dyke?"

Alesha laughed. "Earth expression, sorry. Um, the dominant women in a lesbian relationship."

Yamara nodded. "Okay. That's not me, really. I mean, I have to be in control of myself, that much is certain, but relationships are too damned confusing to bother with, I think. And as for women... if I need comfort late at night I have no preference for one or the other sex, as long as I can stand the person."

Alesha smiled. Yamara was pretty confused, but she deserved the time to figure herself out on her own. She walked over to Yamara and turned her around to head back towards the common room. With a start Yamara realized that Alesha's dress was back on.

Yamara turned her head towards Alesha and opened her mouth to ask about it when Alesha's hand slapped her lightly on her ass. Yamara yelped in surprise and laughed. The two girls, acting like the old friends that they pretended they were, walked back along the beach towards the two men.

*****

Jason was relaxing on the beach with his shirt off while Bill was skipping stones into the water whenever he could find one. Bill stopped and held one in his hands experimentally, weighing it thoughtfully. "Man she's beautiful!"

Alesha smiled and hid a polite chuckle behind her hand. Yamara's eyes widened at how inept the two of them could be to not realize they were walking up behind them. Eric glanced over and saw them. He chuckled and glanced back at Bill.

"We leave tomorrow," Alesha said loud enough to be heard clearly. Bill spun around quickly, dropping his forgotten stone in the process. He blushed a bright red when he saw how close they were. He looked to Eric, who nodded confirmation, and then grinned sheepishly at Alesha.

"And just where are we going tomorrow?" Eric asked, standing up and putting his shirt back on.

Alesha shrugged in the background. Yamara opened her mouth to respond but Eric held up his hand. "I presume this means you made up your mind about yourself then?"

Alesha nodded, biting at her lip for a pensive moment. "Yes, I am willing to take the risk. I want to get out of here and if I have to fight off His influence for the rest of my life, so be it. This is a great place to visit, but living here is not for me."

"What about us?" Eric asked, the alcohol giving him the courage, or the stupidity, to say things he might have normally kept to himself. "What about the hundreds and thousands and millions of innocent people who's lives you could end or change if you do become His creature again? Did you think of that?"

Alesha lowered her head shamefully for a moment. Yamara glared at Eric. She was about to put an end to his ravings and possibly even leave them stranded on the forgotten world while the girls went their separate ways. Yamara stopped when she realized she was more irritated at him then she should be. Then she had any right to be, really.

"You are right, that is something I must consider," Alesha said, raising her head back up and staring into each of their eyes alternately. "Free from any influence here I can only say that I would die sooner then let that happen again."

"Yet that is here where I am safe and unaffected. Anywhere else I am mostly unaffected as well, save for Viconia. And also He can do far worse things then kill me. I think He already has, in fact."

"And you still wish to risk it?" Eric asked, judging her carefully.

She nodded. "Aye, I do."

Eric shrugged. "So be it, I will accompany you to determine your parole, but I have no intention of turning your sword back over to you yet."

Alesha looked at her blade hanging from his belt for the first time. She shivered briefly and nodded. "That is, I think, for the best. Let us see how I am outside of here before I am tempted fully."

The girls led them off into the forest to the shelter Alesha had built out of the wilderness. Having many decades with nothing to do and no fear of aging or being attacked she had done a considerable amount of work in building the place. Bill and Eric were shown into a guest room hollowed out of a giant tree that none of them could identify while Yamara went off to one on her own. Alesha had her own room in the large area she had claimed as her home, a room she hoped to spend one last night in then never return.

*****

In her room and stewing silently, Yamara threw her clothes onto the floor beside her bed. It was a rarity that she allowed herself the luxury of sleeping completely nude, but this prison of Alesha's she knew to be the safest place she had ever been in.

What bothered Yamara the most was wondering why it was that Eric had started to get under her skin. They had gotten along fine on his world, had even shared a few moments she would never have believed possible for her to share before her times with Evart.

She sighed. Evart. A finer man she did not expect to find. She felt no particular urge or need to be with a man. Nor with a woman, she thought, remembering Alesha's mild accusation that Yamara might be a 'bull-dyke'. But she had felt that she could trust Evart. She stopped herself. She knew better then that, she knew she could trust Evart, to say less was a dishonor to herself and to him.

That must be it then, she reasoned. She had opened up a little to Eric a few times and he to her. He had treated her no less fairly or honestly then she could expect. Possibly more fairly then she would have treated him, had the roles been reversed. Eric reminded her of Evart in some small ways. He had done so before, and she feared he would continue to do so again.

So what annoyed her about it, she wondered. Loyal and decent men - people - were hard to find. Confused and more annoyed at herself, Yamara ground her teeth in frustration and slipped into the bed. She thought about trying to contact Eric's mind with hers and try to see if she could resurrect some of her psionic powers that had not worked since she had been joined with Keeden. Then she discarded the idea. Even if it worked she would know his mind better, perhaps, but that would not help her know her own mind any better.

Yamara let out a small cry of disgust and focused on trying to sleep instead. It was a long time in coming and involved a lot of tossing and turning.

Beside her bed, though supposedly a safe place where she need not care, her daggers and sword lay within easy reach and just slightly loosened in their sheaths to aid in a quick release if necessary.

Chapter 17

"Father, I have returned!"

Narellin had watched the stranger swagger through the entryway of his palatial home through a magical cloud of mist that hung in the air above the desk in his study. The man was not unknown to him, but he could have been no less familiar. With a snarl of contempt Narellin waved his hand through the mist and disrupted it.

In minutes Darakor had traversed the halls of the mansion and stood in the doorway to his fathers study, where he knew he would find him. Narellin looked up at him from the desk he sat behind and pondered him with a withered look.

"You are not welcome here," he said at length.

Darakor nodded, some of his excitement stolen from him. He rallied his strength against the only man left on Viconia that still intimidated him and spoke clearly, "I have returned, stronger and more skilled. I am ready now to take my place at the head of our armies."

Narellin snorted with derision. "You forsook your race and your family, you have no place here!"

"I was afraid you would think thusly," Darakor said slowly, refusing to back down. To show weakness in front of the powerful wizard his father was would have been unforgivable to him. "So I return with the artifact that will give us the power to rule this world once and for all!"

"What foolishness do you speak of, boy?" Narellin snapped.

Darakor drew Cirithallion with a flourish. "This!" He said reverently.

Narellin felt the power of Cirithallion as soon as it was unsheathed. His eyes widened as it tugged at him and told him he should bow before Darakor. Such was his power and strength of mind that he kept the urges at bay, urges denied by almost no other living being.

"Hand it over then, Darakor, and there may yet be an acceptance for you within our people," he said, his eyes never leaving the blade.

Darakor's eyes widened. To give over the sword would leave him with no bargaining chip. No power aside from his own on top of that. A voice within him soothed him, told him it was all right. The voice spoke to him on a level so subconscious that he never knew where it came from. He only knew that Cirithallion was not meant to be his yet, it had a greater role to play.

Three long legged strides brought him to Narellin's desk. His eyes never left his father's face, who now returned his stare. Smoothly, showing none of the trepidation he felt inside, Darakor placed the sword across the books and other wizardly apparatus laying on top of the desk. He stepped back then, feeling the sudden loss of the sword keenly.

"Am I then forgiven, father?" Darakor asked bitterly.

Narellin laughed darkly. "Who do you think you speak to, fool? Your mother was the whore of a dark elf before I claimed her! You're only a light elf because I am one of the few living wizards alive with the power and the memory of the ritual necessary to turn you into one!"

Darakor's eyes widened and his face paled. He had been born as a dark elf? His mind struggled to grasp the implications of the simple fact. The Narellin spoke again, driving his confusion from him in a fit of rage. Rage that boiled through him and made him yearn for the sword.

"You are no son of mine!" Narellin shouted at him contemptuously. "I had no son, just a poisoned bitch of a woman that ruined every offspring she produced!"

Darakor clenched his hands so tightly that the blood drained from his knuckles. To be denied after all he had done... It all made sense to him suddenly. All the cruelties he had endured as a child. All the words and punishments and looks he had received. His sister had been treated better then he, and women were the inferior gender! He growled deep in his throat as the monster he was becoming rushed to take him over.

"I have no children, boy!" Narellin continued, seemingly unaware of what was transpiring with Darakor. "Now get out of my sight you traitorous bastard son of a whore!"

Darakor sprang forward then and lifted Cirithallion from where it rested on the desk. Narellin sprang back, his eyes wide. Being the most powerful light elf alive did not happen by mere chance or luck, however. He had a spell on his lips instantly, in spite of the surprise. He began to mouth the words when Cirithallion pierced his chest. His spell failed him as the agony overwhelmed him. Cirithallion did its job as it always had, sucking the life from Narellin in moments.

Darakor stared down hatefully at the man who was not his father. His murderous rage was far from sated, however, for the world had cheated him. In Narellin's last moments of life he looked up at Darakor and smiled a thin and bloodless grin.

"Perhaps you are more my son then I thought."

Narellin collapsed, his strength and his life funneled into the sword. Darakor felt the power of it thrum through the sword and back into his arm. He gasped as many of the thoughts and memories and knowledge that Narellin had possessed flooded into him. Still holding Cirithallion, he fell to his knees as he was overwhelmed by it all. When at last the rush of information into him stopped he swooned back and forth then collapsed to the floor unconscious.

When Darakor awoke he felt strangely. He glanced about the room and saw it as he remembered, including the bloodless husk of the man he had thought to be his father. A flash of memory and he saw himself at the head of a legion of orcs and light elves just recently come through the Periphery into Belurian, the civilized lands between the Periphery and the Endless Ocean. He saw the very ground and the trees they advanced on heaving and bucking against them, trying to repel their invasion. Many orcs and elves were slain by the primeval forces of nature, but in the end his wizardry overpowered and they advanced to the witch behind it all.

Of great wonder was it that the witch was a light elf! A light elf that fought to protect nature against her own race? He was astonished. So great was her beauty and such was the challenge of taming her, however, that he had to have her. Pitting his will and magic against hers, he soon overpowered her and stole into her mind. She protected herself well, concealing the identity of her most recent visitor. Her lover. He saw with great shock that she had conceived a child by this dark elf, but he could learn no more from her.

Narellin, now Darakor, took her with him and made her one of his wives. His primary wife, at that, due to the challenge and exotic nature of her. Her mind was broken but her spirit lived on every time he was with her, fighting and backing against him in the only way she still knew how to do. He enjoyed the thrill of it like no other. In time the child was born and he was greatly displeased to see it born as a dark elf. Instead of ending the babes life with his dagger he used it instead to sever the cord, he slew the healers that knew of its birth. Then, using long forgotten spells he performed the rites necessary to turn the babe into a light elf, leaching his skin of color. Then he retired to ponder the nature of the child that was not his.

The memory faded from Darakor then. He cast a last hateful glance at Narellin and sheathed Cirithallion. He somehow knew where and what everything in the manor was. Every glance he took looked familiar to him, though he had been absent several centuries. It was unnerving. Nonetheless, Darakor knew what he needed to do next.

The elf picked up a small bowl on a shelf and filled it with water from a nearby pitcher. Staring into it he spoke clearly the words of an arcane spell he had never learned previously. In moments the calm water showed the image of a cloaked figure.

"Who disturbs me?" The creature answered in a sibilant hissing voice.

Darakor also knew what and who he spoke to, though he had never met the creature before. "I am Darakor Kinslayer, usurper of Narellin Kinslayer's powers."

The rasping laughter that sounded from the bowl sounded like air escaping a tight seal. "What business do you have with me, Lord of the Elves?"

"I possess that which we seek, the Sword of The Serpent," Darakor said, not fazed in the least by the creatures manner.

The sudden intake of breath indicated the creatures surprise at the announcement. He hissed out some quiet words and in a moment stood in front of Darakor. He spared barely a glance for Narellin's body, instead his eyes were drawn to the sheathed sword Darakor wore.

Darakor set the bowl down and drew the long sword slowly, teasing the lizardman with it. "This, Ssythanduras, is Cirithallion. The Chaos Blade. The last holder of Ancaruin's essence."

Ssythanduras moved closer, his scaled hands raising from the arms of his robe to reach for it. Darakor permitted it, letting the priest take it into his hands and hold it reverently.

"Ssso closssse," he whispered, his forked tongue prolonging the words.

"When can you bring him back?" Darakor answered, feeling this time as though it was right for him to relinquish the sword.

Ssythanduras turned to him and chuckled again. "One piece yet remains, Master Kinslayer."

Darakor's eyes widened in surprise. "Kelnozz told me this was all that was left, the largest fragment!"

"Another remains. Sanctuary. It rests in Sanctuary. Go there and recover it." Ssythanduras pulled his hood back, revealing his scaly green head and cold dark eyes. "Then the greatest of dragons will again control the world!"

Chapter 18

"So where we going?" Bill asked, expecting to return to Earth in some exotic location. "I've always enjoyed Thailand myself."

Morning had come and the four of them were gathered about a table magically fashioned out of a large piece of driftwood and sitting on stumps that had been altered, also with Alesha's magic, into comfortable chairs. They munched on a breakfast of fruits, berries, nuts, and a roasted animal that reminded them all of a large rabbit, though it possessed six legs.

"I spent the entire night thinking about it," Alesha began, sounding nervous and scared. "And I think that I owe this to everyone. Not just all of you, perhaps all of you the least, but I mean everyone else on Earth and on Viconia."

Bill ached to rush over to her and put his arm around her supportively, she was so obviously nervous about her decision. He kept his position though, seeing that Eric and Yamara were watching her intently without the same urges written clearly on their face.

Alesha took a deep breath and looked at each of them for a long second before she said, "I must return to Viconia."

Before anyone could protest, and protest they would from the looks on their faces, she continued. "I have to be sure I can fight His influence. I have to do that and maybe, if I can, give something back to the world to try and fix all that I did before. And if I can not, then before I am fully into the transformation I will need one of you to kill me, because I can never be safe again."

A stunned and thoughtful silence descended upon the room. Lost in their own thoughts for quite a while it was finally Eric who spoke up. "If you become as powerful as you were before, there is no way we could kill you, even with this sword that none of us can fully use."

Alesha nodded, "If that happens then there is another reason for me to go to Viconia. On that world at least one man lives who can beat me in a fight. Perhaps two, though I do not know where either of them are."

Eric nodded while Bill looked on lost and somewhat concerned. Yamara thought she knew as well. "Kelnozz is one, who is the other?" She asked, stating her guess aloud.

"Garrick," Eric answered for her. Alesha nodded, remembering with a shiver how easily the mountain of a man had denied her in every battle of wills they had ever fought.

"Bah, nobody's going to be killed, this is crazy. Whatever it is we'll help you fight it off, nothing ever got past our watch, did they Eric?" Bill said, wanting to get past the topic. It was strange for him to feel so left out of the conversation and even stranger for him to find it so uncomfortable to be talking about Alesha's life in such a candid way.

"These aren't people, Bill, these are both less and more," Eric said seriously. "But I agree, worrying about it right now is silly. Instead, let's get going, we waste time talking about it when we could be doing it."

Bill and Eric finished getting ready, which included putting their body armor back on over their BDUs. Eric's M-4 was lost back on Earth, but Bill still had his and a few magazines. Eric gave him his remaining magazine and checked that his pistol was loaded and ready to go. The girls watched them impatiently, easily bored. Finally they were ready and were off, heading back to the beach that seemed to be the common place for entering and leaving the world.

Once there Alesha gathered her stored up energies and shaped them carefully, reaching out to draw more from the sword at Eric's side. In no time she felt she had enough. She reached out into the very substance that was the reality of the world and studied it carefully.

Alesha broke down all of a sudden, falling to her knees and hiding her face in her hands. Bill beat the rest of them there, kneeling beside her and putting his hand on her shoulders as they shook with her silent sobs.

"What's wrong?" Yamara asked, standing on her other side closely. Eric watched intently from a few feet away, curious.

"I just learned my final lesson," Alesha responded, looking up at her. She wiped the tears from her face and took a deep breath to help her regain her falm.

"I never needed the sword to escape," she said, glancing at Eric.

"What do you mean?" Eric asked, his interest piqued even more.

"The sword is a tool, that's all. I learned how to do the same things without it," Alesha said, shaking her head bitterly. "All these years I've waited for something I never needed."

"So it's nothing special?" Bill asked.

"Oh, it's special, I just did not need it for the things I thought I did," she told him. "In fact, Kelnozz told me I was imprisoned here and I made the assumption that he alone held the key. Even when I opened a rift to send Yamara through I just assumed I could not escape. I was a fool. The prison was in my mind. I am my own jailer."

Bill looked up at Eric, who only shook his head. Yamara could understand all to well the torture Alesha felt, she had spent her time within a gilded cage of her own making as well. Alesha rose finally, forcing Bill to step back away from her.

She turned around and before their very eyes her brown robe disappeared. In its place was her magical armor left with her from her time on Viconia. Silver scales that had once been the hide of a silver dragon formed the greaves and cuirass, though her breasts seemed on the verge of falling out of it and it's protective ability was questionable. Supple boots rode high on her legs to her knees, tucked underneath and attached to the scale grieves. A skirt made of finely crafted mithril hung from beneath her cuirass, covering and protecting her loin cloth and the otherwise naked flesh of her hips and upper legs. On her arms she wore black leather gloves that were so long that they fell only a few inches short of her shoulders. A wide mithril necklace fashioned to resemble a spider web, complete with a tiny ebony spider protected her neck and the valley between her breasts and above her cuirass.

Bill gasped in surprise. Easily as beautiful as before, now Alesha looked like a valkyrie straight out of a Wagnerian opera. Looking upon her now and how easily she wore the armor and the empty scabbard at her side he could begin to understand how it was she was considered so dangerous.

"Let us go first to Sanctuary, for it is only on the edge of Viconia and will give me the best place to gauge the powers arrayed against me," Alesha said, slipping into a more commanding role as soon as the familiar armor once again rode on her skin. It had been a long time, decades even, since she had last worn it. It felt odd on her and made her skin crawl a little, but she reminded herself that it was just armor, just an object. It was up to her to determine whether she was good or evil.

She reached out and opened a door in the very fabric of the air in front of her. It appeared to lead into an brilliant white light. She knew better. With a deep breath, she stepped through. Her new companions were close on her heels.

Chapter 19

"An age is coming to a close, my young friend," The stooped figure of a bearded man said as he sat on the porch of his tower.

"Aye, I fear it is, my old friend," The other, a young warrior in plate mail, partially jested as he leaned against the tower.

"I have cast the auguries, I have communed with the spirits," The old wizard said between puffs from his pipe. "And they all say the same, this place will be no more when the dragons come at the hand of the bastard general."

"And the council will not listen to you?" The warrior asked sadly, all mirth gone.

"Aye, they listen well enough, but then they discuss and discuss and try to think their way out of the inevitable. They don't understand that they must do something now or do it never at all!"

"And what of Garrick? He is unofficially the lord of this town, if he says we must act the council will act!"

Akynson chuckled, "Aye, but he knows lad. He knows and he is unconcerned. He has battled greater things then any of us, he fears none of it."

"Then we'd best be making plans of our own," The warrior stated calmly.

The wizard looked up at him, one eye closed to block out the sun's light. "Eh, what's that? Plans of our own. Hmm, not a bad idea. I have lived for longer then any man has a right to. Sure, I'm a wizard, and sure, we live in Sanctuary, but even beyond that it is not right for me to have lived so long. I'm tired, Laryn, so damn tired."

The warrior, Laryn, turned to face the mage and said rather harshly, "Then what will you do, Akynson? Sit there on your porch and wave merrily as the evil invades and overtakes our homes!"

The mage smiled and said, "No, you can bet that I'll be fighting them. Someone will have to slow them down, after all."

"Then let us plan for Sanctuary's defense!" Laryn pleaded with him.

"How can we plan for something that we know nothing of? Aye, we know it's coming, but we don't know when. We don't know where. By the Gods lad, we don't even know who this bastard general is!" The mage said in exasperation.

Laryn nodded thoughtfully and leaned back against the wall angrily. "Can you not cast your spells and divine these things? I thought there was none more powerful then you here?"

Akynson blew out a particularly nice smoke ring and said, "I've done that already, lad, that and more. What we've been talking about is all that I know, and it's all that I'm going to know."

"So we have no idea who wishes the fall of Sanctuary. And with no idea of who it is, we have no idea how to fight them!"

The mage smiled bitterly and tapped out his pipe. "Lad, I told you, I have foreseen the fall of Sanctuary, all we can do by fighting is slow it down. You and I, we're dead men already, we just have not the sense to lay down and accept it."

Laryn turned to stare at him, an angry retort in his mind, but he stopped when he saw the blunt honesty and openness in the wizards eyes. He closed his mouth awkwardly and nodded mutely. "Then I will die defending my home, a better death I can not envision."

Akynson acknowledged his solemn statement with a nod and reached into a pouch to fill his pipe with more smokeweed. He filled it and with a simple incantation shot flames out of his finger into the pipe to light it. After a few puffs he looked up at Laryn and noticed the young warrior was staring off into the sky, watching two young bronze dragons dart about one another, playing.

"Will none of us survive the fall of Sanctuary, wizard?" A new voice asked of them.

Both figures started. They turned and saw the figure standing beside the porch, the hood of his cloak pulled up to hide his face.

"And who might you be, sneaking up on an old man trying to give me a heart attack?" Akynson asked the figure.

"I am a friend of your fathers, Akynson," The figure replied mysteriously.

Akynson squinted but could not see beneath the hood. He shrugged and said, "Must be an elf then, for my dad's been dead for so long that his bones are beyond dust."

Laryn slowly walked toward the figure, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Friend, if indeed a friend you are, remove your hood and let us look upon your face. You look to be fell, traveling hidden like that."

The figure reached up and pulled back his hood, revealing he was indeed a dark skinned elf. "Remember me now, Akynson?"

Akynson stared long and hard and said, "Yes, I think I do, but tales of your passing have been a long time in being told. What brings you back here to Sanctuary?"

"I have been here more then a score of years, Akynson. I have been in hiding enjoying the company of an even older friend. That or traveling disguised, looking fell, if I heard your young friend there right," The elf responded lightly. "I can tell you who comes to destroy Sanctuary. I can tell you who it is and even give you and idea of what his forces are. But all the more importantly, I can tell you why he comes."

Laryn viewed the elf even more suspiciously now, and he leaned forward ever so slightly as he said, "Speak on, elf, tell us of these things, and then tell us how you know of them!"

Akynson chuckled without humor and said, "Watch yourself lad, you're talking to no ordinary elf there. His older friend he speaks of is Garrick, and this here elf seems to always have trouble on his heels, everywhere he goes disaster and change come about. I think that the reason Sanctuary will soon no longer live up to its namesake is probably because Kelnozz Risingmoon is talking to us."

Laryn's eyes widened slightly and his hand fell away from his hilt. "What proof do you have of who you claim to be, elf, for that is a boast not lightly filled."

The elf looked at Laryn with nothing but exhaustion in his eyes. "I don't care whether you believe him or not. I don't want to prove that I'm him. Indeed, with each passing year it appears my name takes on more of a status and it becomes harder for me to use it."

Laryn glared at him skeptically but Akynson said encouragingly, "Aye lad, it's him. Kelnozz, tell us of these things so we will at least know what will kill us and why we are fighting."

Kelnozz looked at Akynson and moved to sit on the porch beside the wizard. "Ancaruin struggles to come once again to Viconia, Akynson. My student, Darakor has made a pact with the greatest powers of darkness and they will send their forces to Sanctuary for two reasons. They want Sanctuary destroyed, for it escaped their wrath when first they came at us centuries ago. Their main reason, though, is because of what sanctuary hides. Somewhere within this city is the greatest portion of Ancaruin's spirit. Even the dragon had a soul, and to bring him back they must recover it. They will arrive on a host of dragons and demons, and nothing will be able to stop them."

Akynson nodded and said, "Aye, some many years back I felt a chill one day that would not go away. I suspected something to do with the dragon had happened, but as close as we are to Viconia, we're so far away I could not be certain."

"How soon will they attack?" Laryn asked, leaning on the railing of the porch.

Kelnozz looked up at the young warrior and said, "Soon enough, don't worry. A year, perhaps two, maybe less."

Laryn frowned and said, "What? Sometime between now and 2 years from now? I call that quite a while! That is plenty of time to build up defenses!"

Kelnozz shook his head sadly and said, "It was good to see you again, Akynson."

Akynson smiled for Kelnozz's benefit and patted the elf on the shoulder as he stood up and began to walk away.

"Wait a moment! Stay and help us plan Sanctuary's defense!" Laryn called out after a moment of amazement.

"Laryn, lad, let him go," Akynson said quietly. "He's had enough fighting to last a thousand men a thousand years. Kelnozz is tired too, like me, but he is cursed to live forever, for his prophecy is that none but that his son can strike him dead, and the elf has never fathered a child."

Laryn looked after Kelnozz then looked down at Akynson. He had a hard edge in his eyes. "Bah! This battle will be good, for if in it I will face my death, so be it! Anything so long as I do not grow old and see what it is like to be like you two, without motivation or ambition! Just sitting there waiting for death to reach out and pull you to its bosom!"

Akynson met Laryn's gaze with a steely one of his own. Finally Laryn shook his head and walked away angrily. Akynson watched him go and was glad, the boy was young full of fire still. It was a pity that it seemed the odds were high that Laryn would not live long enough to enjoy the finer things in life one learned with age.

*****

"Woah!" Bill said, stumbling to his hands and knees. Eric joined him on the ground and Yamara teetered off balance for a moment. Only Alesha remaining upright without a problem.

"This is Sanctuary?" Yamara asked, glancing about. It looked like any town would look, with cobblestone streets and both dirt and grass aplenty in the yards of the many buildings.

"Yes," Alesha said, taking a deep breath and smiling profoundly. "Gods I never knew how much I missed it."

"What is so special about it?" Bill asked, coming to his feet and looking about. Several people down the street were looking at them in surprise. Some were gesturing towards them and talking excitedly, but after a few moments resumed their normal tasks. The only thing of interest that remained to the townsfolk was the odd clothing Eric and Bill both wore.

"It lies in a hidden part of Viconia. It can be reached by anyone who knows how to get here easily enough, but apart from that the wizards that first fathered this city put up wards about it that kept it largely unaffected by the rest of the world," she explained.

"No being that wishes ill to the city has ever been able to come upon it. People, sure, but the city as a whole remains protected," she finished, looking up and down the street and trying to remember the town.

About that time a teenage girl walked past them, balancing a basket filled with breads on against her hip. She eyed Eric and Bill with a curious expression. Almost as curious as their own expressions at her outfit, which consisted solely of a short skirt and a wide brimmed straw hat. No words were exchanged and in a moment she was past.

Yamara smacked Bill on the back of the head, bringing his attention back from her bouncing breasts. He grinned, causing Eric to chuckle. "Everybody dress like that here?" Bill asked hopefully.

Alesha smirked. "You will find that Viconia is a warm place. Or at least the majority of it is. Far to the north there is occasional snow in the death cycle, and of course the higher up in mountains. Other then that it is like the tropics, with a few deserts tossed in. Because of that, and because the average person has little money, clothing is usually the first thing to be sacrificed."

"Death cycle?" Eric asked, looking at her in concern.

"Time in Viconia is based around the second," Alesha began. "There are 60 seconds in a minute, and 60 minutes in an hour. A day consists of not 24 hours, but 30. There are 6 days in a week, and 12 weeks in a cycle. A cycle is like a season on Earth, you know, spring, summer, fall, winter? A cycle here has 73 days, with the final day of each cycle being spent in rest and celebration at the ending of the cycle and the beginning of a new one. There are 4 cycles in a year, making the year 292 days long. The year begins with the Birth Cycle, or spring, continues into the Growth, or summer, and then the Life, or autumn, Cycles, and ends in the Death Cycle, which would be winter on Earth. Local holidays vary throughout the world, depending upon the location."

Alesha shook her head as Bill continued to ogle some of the closer commoners. "I am not certain, but it feels like we are early into the Growth cycle, which is the hottest and causes people to wear the least."

"Cool," Bill said, looking around him hoping to find more displays of nudity.

"Behave yourself, Bill," Alesha warned lightly, "while people may have no taboos about nudity, it is not an open invitation for you. You will find, I think, that people are far more competent here then they are on Earth."

"What do you mean by that?" Eric asked, not quite as caught up in the novelty of flesh on display as his friend.

"I mean that life here is often a struggle, and it means less then it does on Earth. People are stronger and more talented because to not be that way would mean they might not survive. This place is like Earth in the dark ages, violence does solve things."

Eric and Bill looked at each other and smirked. "I think we'll fit in just fine," Bill said.

Yamara snorted quietly, doubting their braggadocio but not wanting to rub their noses in it. "How do you feel?" she asked Alesha, changing the subject.

"Mmm, wonderful," Alesha said, closing her eyes and taking in the scents and sounds around her. Seeing the beatific expression on her face caused Bill to turn away and casually adjust the hardness in his pants. He swore under his breath.

"So far I sense nothing. I smell only the air, so much cleaner and richer then anything on Earth. It makes me feel alive. That and the magic of this world and in particular, this city," Alesha continued, looking at all of them with eyes filled with joy. "This town was the first one I ever came to in Viconia, did I ever tell you that?"

Eric held up his hand. "Later, Alesha, and we'd love to hear all about it. For now though, let's move off this street, people are going to think we are odd just standing here. Not to mention you are right, it is awfully warm here and Bill and I are not exactly dressed for it."

"Of course, my apologies!" Alesha said, still grinning happily. "Follow me, please."

They let her lead them down a few streets until she seemed to realize where she was, then with more confidence she took them to a tavern. "What kind of money do they take here?" Eric asked, suddenly concerned that he had not had anything converted to hard currency.

Alesha laughed and touched him lightly on the arm. "Don't worry about it, I'm sure I have enough to pay for anything we need with what Rizzo gave me."

"One thing you would do well to watch out for is thieves," Yamara warned, catching site of a few unsavory characters she marked immediately as cutpurses and thugs. Not knowing the local customs she did little more then nod slightly at them to let them know she had made them. They stared back at her but made no sign of recognition.

"Feels like we're back in the middle east," Bill said, looking around him in an obvious attempt to try and spot anyone out to do him harm.

"We need to get you two some weapons too," Alesha said after they had taken a seat at a table.

"I'm fine, thanks," Bill answered, leaning his M-4 against his chair let and putting his boot on the outside of it to keep it in constant contact.

"We'll run out of bullets quick enough," Eric pointed out, seeing the logic of what she said. "Then what Cowboy?"

Bill grunted. They had no equipment to make gunpowder or firing caps, let alone a source of lead to turn into bullets. "What do they have here, swords and lances and bows and stuff like that?"

Alesha nodded. "Crossbows, maces, hammers, axes, and much, much more. No guns or explosives, instead we have magic here." Alesha got more excited as she spoke, feeling back in a place where she had some power and sway once again.

Bill raised his eyebrows at her obvious delight at the martial weapons. He just shook his head and grinned. "We'll check on that as soon as we can," Eric agreed. "Bill and I are both good with knives and hand to hand combat, don't worry about us."

Alesha nodded, quickly distracted by the very fact that she was back in Viconia. Yamara smirked but otherwise made no comment. In a few moments a comely serving girl made her way to their table, drawing a blatantly appreciative stare from Bill. Eric kicked him under table, earning him a glare.

After drinks had been ordered Eric spoke up. "If you feel nothing yet, what plans do you have now?"

"Maybe it has been long enough that he just gave up and forgot about you?" Bill offered.

Alesha looked thoughtful. "Perhaps," she said doubtfully. She flagged down their serving girl and asked her what year it was. The girl looked at her strangely but told her anyhow, then left as quickly as she could.

"Well?" Bill asked hopefully.

"It has been well almost 400 years since I was banished," Alesha said.

"400 years? Wow, I don't think anyone could hold a grudge that long!" Bill replied.

"You think of Him as a person," Alesha said, sounding upset. "He is not, he is a God. Gods do not forget, and this particular God does not forgive."

"But if you feel no influence here, do you then wish to try leaving Sanctuary?" Yamara said. Eric remained quiet, studying her carefully and judging her as best he knew how.

Alesha thought for a moment, wondering at the safety of the idea. At length she nodded. "Perhaps we should. But let us spend a few days here first, His influence may not spread to here but he has agents and assassins scattered throughout this world."

After finishing their drinks and further establishing what their immediate plans were, They moved on to find lodging and a weaponsmith. The entire time Eric though silently of how best to be ready to act should Alesha fall into her old habits. He watched her carefully, knowing that with each passing minute it was more and more likely she would begin to change. Alesha, for her part, was to caught up in her experience to notice, though Yamara took careful note of it. She noted his interest on many levels, for it both impressed her and irritated her, and her irritation was two-fold. She was irritated that he took more concern and care for Alesha's welfare then she did, and was also irritated that Alesha should warrant so much of his attention.

Yamara had known herself many times to be caught in strange situations between people, and though she found herself powerless to avoid it, she found herself on the verge of becoming more bitchy then normal because of her childish jealousy. Jealousy had gotten her in trouble before. Trouble and worse. She vowed to distance herself from him and cling more tightly to the memory of Evart and Brina. After all, Eric reminded her of a replacement for Evart. A replacement was something she would never accept, for he was - is - irreplaceable.

Several hot hours later, with several new weapons in tow, they found lodging in an inn and all shared a single room for the night. Eric refused to allow Alesha to be by herself, no matter what level of privacy she might require. Alesha, though somewhat embarrassed at the necessity, agreed with him. Bill was more then willing to shack up in close quarters with them, and Yamara... well, Yamara remained quiet and watchful throughout, seemingly caught up in her own thoughts.

Chapter 20

The days passed without incident. Eric and Bill practiced with their new weapons. Both were already considered experts in unarmed combat and knife fighting, but they came to find out their level of expertise might have made them lethal on Earth, but on Viconia it was not quite so skilled. Still better then average, by far, but if their rude awakening was any indication of life on Viconia, they needed to work harder.

Eric, falling back on his experience using Alesha's short sword (which he still wore, though now in a proper scabbard across his back), had acquired a rapier with a basket hilt rode that across his right hip. His curved special forces dagger was tucked into a sheath on his left hip. Bill had trouble deciding on his weapons of choice. In the end he picked up a light crossbow and a score bolts, a single edged battle axe with a lethal looking spike as a counter-weight, and a short sword as compliments to his own special forces knife.

After six days of touring Sanctuary they were starting to wonder what more was out there. After a particularly hot and sweaty training exercise with Alesha and Yamara, Alesha finally broached the topic.

"I think it is time for us to move on," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.

Between ragged breaths Eric responded, "Where do you think we should go?"

Bill continued to gasp for air. His cigarettes had run out several days ago and now he was suffering from withdrawal on top of not being in shape. Yamara was breathing heavily, but nowhere near as heavily as the two men. Alesha seemed to be the only one hardly affected by the strenuous activity in the mid day heat.

"I want two things," she said, ignoring the drops of sweat that ran down into the cleavage between her breasts and into her armor. In spite of his condition, Bill watched each droplet with growing envy.

"First, as you all know, I want to figure out what is going on with me. Second, I want to find Kelnozz."

Eric was surprised. For her to want to find Kelnozz implied that perhaps she really had reformed her ways. He had been given no reason to doubt her yet, but he remembered all to well the things he had seen. He still had nightmares he woke up from drenched in a cold sweat thanks to her. Then again, maybe she wanted to find him because she thought that this time around she could defeat him. Eric sighed, damn him and his creative mind. Then again, perhaps she was the one that deserved damning more then he did.

"How do you propose to find him?" Yamara asked.

"There are a couple of ways, actually," she answered with a sly grin. "But only one of them is safe. We need to find Luingirth."

"Luin-what?" Bill said, finally having caught his breath enough to participate in the discussion.

"Luingirth is Kelnozz's pet dragon," she said, looking at him for his reaction.

Bill's eyes blinked rapidly a few times. He cocked his head a little to the side, as though trying to figure out what she said. "Pet dragon?"

"Well, not really a pet. More of a friend I guess."

"Oh, right, okay then," Bill stammered. He looked at Eric, who just shrugged. "We're not talking komodo dragon here, are we?"

Eric shrugged again. "Never been here bro. When I met him he came to my world. I've seen a giant 4 armed demon with the face of a dog, to me that makes anything possible."

Bill gulped and looked back to Alesha, who was grinning mischievously. He shook his head and remained quiet.

"Thousands of miles from here to the southwest there is an island. Under this island there is a cavern. Not any cavern either, mind you, but the cavern where Kelnozz defeated me the first time and sent me home to Earth."

"That cave possessed the portal to where the metallic dragons where imprisoned, and was guarded by the mythical dragon, Tiamat," Alesha continued.

"Hey, I've heard of her," Eric interrupted. "Used to be a cartoon show called Dungeons and Dragons and the good guys, ironically about a bunch of humans from Earth that got dumped into this magical world, had a couple of chief enemies throughout the series. One of them was a five headed dragon named Tiamat!"

Alesha nodded. "Yes, I remember it too, now that you mention it. But I assure you, this Tiamat was very real and far more deadly then the one in the cartoon."

Eric nodded. "Of course, but it stands to reason that perhaps somebody has traveled from this world to ours before."

"That or maybe all of this is just a sick dream," Bill muttered darkly.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" Alesha asked him, looking at him kindly. Bill blushed and stammered out his reply, realizing that the gorgeous woman had him wrapped around her finger. Eric frowned, concerned for his friend. Maybe a little jealous as well, though he would never admit it.

"Anyhow, Tiamat was slain by Kelnozz, Nordan, Martin, and Luingirth, as well as a few other elves who's names I never knew. The metallic dragons were freed and well, you know the rest of the story," Alesha said with her eyes cast downward briefly.

"So how does that help us find Luingirth?" Eric asked.

"Luingirth now guards the portal?" Yamara guessed. Alesha glanced at her in surprise. She smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I believe Luingirth to be the only one left capable of guarding it."

"Thousands of miles away, you say... do you have any suggestions for getting us there?" Eric asked, knowing that with the technology available in Viconia it was a journey of months by horse or by boat.

Alesha suddenly seemed nervous. She stared at the ground at their feet and bit at her lip for several long moments. Confused, everyone else watched her, wondering what was bothering her. Finally she looked up at each of them, finally coming to rest on Bill. "I can get us there in a heartbeat."

"How?" Bill asked. Yamara's eyes widened, she knew the answer but also knew that if she could do such a thing, then she truly was a powerful woman.

"Magic. My magic. Will you let me use it on all of you?" Alesha asked, looking directly at Eric.

Eric's eyes widened. Everyone turned to look at him, following Alesha's gaze. "Well?" She asked him.

Eric took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He nodded finally, not trusting himself to speak. She had given him no reason to disbelieve her intentions, yet this was a greater thing for her to ask.

Alesha smiled nervously. "Very well then, here goes nothing."

*****

"Fucking Star Trek!" Bill breathed in awe. They were in what appeared to be a giant cavern, though the light in the room was so faint they could barely see each other or the ground beneath them. The tingling sensation that had overcome them faded just as rapidly as it had begun, leaving it a barely remembered feeling.

"Who art thou and why doth thou comest to Helmsmasher Isle?" A giant voice boomed.

"What the fuck was that?" Bill asked, looking around in the dark and crouching low. He brandished his M-4, flipping the safety off and searching with his senses for a target.

A light soared up straight above them from Alesha's stretched arm, gaining in brilliance as it ascended. In moments it reached a stalactite hanging from the ceiling and affixed itself to its tip, shedding its light throughout the cavern. Bill now had his target, but his gun hung limply from his fingers as he looked upon it.

A gargantuan face glared down upon them. It reminded Bill of a cross between a dog and a bat covered in blue scales. The dragon's eyes scanned all of the sudden visitors, coming to rest at last on Alesha. A deep rumble started up then, which served to terrify Bill, Eric, and Yamara. Alesha remained calm, facing the dragon squarely. After a few moments the three came to realize as Alesha already did that the dragon was laughing.

"Thou hath returned."

Alesha straightened herself up even more then she already was and faced Luingirth squarely. "I have returned," she stated calmly. "And I seek your counsel."

More of that draconic laughter. It was maddening to the humans, listening to it and knowing that at any moment it could end their lives with little more then a thought. All of them save for perhaps Alesha.

"What counsel wouldst thou possess, dark queen?"

Alesha blanched for the first time then. She shook her head slowly and took a deep breath. "I seek Kelnozz, Luingirth. I... I need to find him."

Luingirth regarded her silently for a long time, studying her and thinking about her words. More then just what she said, but how she had said it. Eric, Bill, and Yamara were paralyzed with fear at the sight of the beast. Not only was his head the size of a small house, but the long neck and body attached to it made a football stadium seem like the only place he could curl up to take a nap in.

"Speak thou plainly to me, temptress, or earn my wrath!" He said at last, undecided on how to interpret her words.

Alesha bristled at the dragon's words, angered greatly all of a sudden at how he would dare challenge her. Her fists clenched briefly and then she realized what was happening to her. "Luingirth, I beg of you to take us to Kelnozz," her strong and almost imperious voice was gone, in it's place was that of a scared girl.

She continued after a brief respite during which she strengthened herself mentally. "These people came to release me from my prison, and now I need to see Kelnozz again.

"What wouldst thou do to him?" Luingirth asked, stepping his own anger back a notch at her sudden shift.

"Ask him for forgiveness," she said. "I can never be who I was before I accepted this dark gift, but I can also promise that I never want to be who I was after He gave it to me. I came back to Viconia to try and free myself from it by righting the wrongs I once committed, but already now that we are here I can feel Him trying to seduce me back. I need to find Kelnozz, only he can help me!"

With each passing moment the pulling at the edges of Alesha's mind grew stronger. She felt the urges growing and growing, promising her relief and power beyond imagining if only she would give in. It pulled at her and tempted her. She fought against it, knowing that she needed power to fight it off. A revelation came to her then. The darkness that beckoned her reveled in fear, hatred, pain, and all other fey emotions. Those same emotions she once used herself to increase her power.

Alesha reached out and pulled in the dragon-inspired fear that was radiating from her companions. She channeled the emotions inside of her and converted them into her magic, erecting a barrier around herself to help insulate her. It worked, lessening the stress against her psyche as well as reducing the numbing fear her companions were experiencing, letting them act almost normal. The only adverse side affect was the taste in her mouth that absorbing all that terror had given her. Her intentions were noble, but the application was so very similar to what she used to do that it made her feel dirty inside.

Seeing her calm down, Luingirth spoke, "Hath thou been won back to the darkness?"

Alesha shook her head emphatically. "No, good dragon, I have kept it at bay for now. Let me find Kelnozz so that he can show me what I must do to never worry again. Only then can I give Viconia the penitence it deserves."

"And who art thou that travel with you?"

Eric, Yamara, and Bill looked to one another. They were no longer paralyzed with the unnatural fear the dragon emanated, but now were dealing with a fear that was entirely natural.

"I am Yamara Blackcloak," Yamara said, speaking first. Embarrassed to be beaten to the punch by a woman, Bill piped up next, "Bill Williams, my friends call me Cowboy."

Eric smirked in spite of the situation. He shook his head at Bill and announced himself as well, "Eric Hunt."

"And I am Elvanshalee."

All four turned at the new voice. It was a woman and, upon closer examination, and extremely attractive one. Tall and slim, like all elves (though Bill and Yamara had yet to see one from Viconia), she was also light skinned. Alesha's eyes grew wide and she raised her hands up in front of her guardedly. Remembering a second later about the distinction between dark elves and light elves, Eric drew his pistol and pointed it at her. Bill followed suit with his M-4 as soon as he saw Eric drawing. Yamara remained still, prepared to act but without enough information to do anything about it.

"Elvanshalee is an ally, dark queen."

"Have you turned from your mentor then, Luingirth?" Alesha called over her shoulder.

Luingirth made that laughing noise again. When he stopped he spoke to them. "Nay, I am as ever his companion. She seeks Kelnozz as well, but she is not as her kin."

"Prove it, light elf," Alesha hissed at Elvanshalee, letting some of her darker instincts rise.

"How would you have me prove it? I am too young to have known you by scores of years, yet I heard many tales of you from my father and mother," Elvanshalee said, moving forward slowly. By her staff and the numerous small pouches and strange fetishes that hung from her waist and straps that hang across her otherwise naked chest she was clearly a sorceress.

"Who is your father?"

"Narellin Kinslayer."

Alesha's eyes widened. Narellin had been one of her staunchest allies and supporters, though she had trusted him less then anyone else she had ever known. One slip at any time and he would have been on her, usurping her place and leading the army as he had thousands of years past in the Kinslayer Wars. She had no doubt that as soon as she had been banished he had filled the vacuum.

"Who's that?" Bill whispered to Eric. Eric just shrugged, he was clueless.

"Narellin is the Master of The Lost Lands. He rules Mezarbolle and the armies within it, building them up for a time when he can strike out again at what was begun several millennia ago in the Kinslayer Wars. He was once close friends with Myragordamar, champion of the elven peoples before they were sundered."

"Oh, that guy," Bill said, more at a loss now then before.

"You sound rather proud of your heritage," Alesha said, ignoring Bill and not backing down at all.

Elvanshalee gave her a cold smile. "Proud that I can trace my short lineage back to a time when the elven people were one? Yes. Proud to be related to someone who wishes to enslave or slaughter anyone not of light elven heritage? No."

"I seek to follow in my brother's footsteps. He has allied himself with Kelnozz and become his pupil. I wish no such tutelage, but I do seek to join with him and help fight against my father."

"Who is your brother?" Alesha asked.

"Darakor Kinslayer. He was born shortly after you were defeated."

Alesha bristled at her tone. All four of them were annoyed at her uppity nature, but not so greatly annoyed that they could refute her.

Alesha nodded at the last, saying, "If Luingirth believes you, then I must believe you."

"But does Luingirth believe you?" Elvanshalee shot back. Alesha's eyes narrowed dangerously but like everyone else, they all turned to regard the dragon.

"Now that thou hast all arrived, come! We must fly!" Luingirth said, moving his bulk out from his resting place. All were impressed by his size, even Alesha who had seen Ancaruin in his might. Ancaruin had been larger and older, but Luingirth was an ancient dragon by anyone's estimation, and a friend to Kelnozz since his hatching.

With the aid of a stretched out forelimb they scampered up onto the back of the dragon and settled in carefully. Alesha used her magic to keep them safely enclosed in an air bubble on Luingirth's back when he rose up far quicker then the other three were prepared for and plunged into the warm waters of the Endless Ocean. Yamara was briefly reminded of her past on another world when another woman had provided a bubble of air to keep them safe as they descended into an ocean of dust and silt.

Luingirth swam through the only entrance or exit from his lair and emerged into the bright and warm sunshine over Helmsmasher Isle. They circled the island three times, out of range of the siege engines on the towers and parapets of Helmsmasher Castle. Then, apparently tired of doing that, he straightened out and flew like a bullet to the northwest.

"Why is it called Helmsmasher Isle?" Eric asked, shouting to be heard above the wind. Both he and Bill were unaffected by the sensation of flying and having the wind in their hair. Both had been paratroopers and both had been avid motorcyclists. Besides that they both reasoned that it was never the ride or the fall that killed you, it was the sudden stop at the end.

When Alesha did not appear to have the answer Elvanshalee surprised them all by saying, "In honor of the Barbarian Tribe, Clan Helmsmasher. A woman from their tribe, one of Nordan's first new worshippers, amassed a fortune and built it. It is dedicated to the worship of Nordan and is a school for warriors. In deference to her, only women arise to the position of headmistress of the school, and all take the name Valeria."

Alesha laughed. "Nordan was practically a sexist pig, though a great friend and man in spite of it, I am surprised he would allow such a thing to take place in his name!"

Elvanshalee shrugged. "It is not ours to know the minds of the Gods."

Alesha snorted but remained quiet. Onward they flew, streaking over the ground below them faster and faster.

Chapter 21

"My Lords! A blue dragon has been sighted over the city! It carries riders," A guard said after bursting into the council room.

The lords of Sanctuary sat about their table and looked at one another as silence befell the room. Their hesitation was brief, for one of them speak up quickly.

"Already? Damn! Begin the preparations, we must evacuate as many as possible," He said, standing up from his chair. "Guard, has the garrison been mobilized?"

"Aye Lord, as I speak they are falling into their positions," The guard replied.

"That is good," Another lord said to no one in particular. "Have Akynson begin to conjure the gate, Laryn is to be in charge of the refugees defense."

The first lord looked about the table as everyone was preparing to leave and said, "Has anyone proven this rumor that Laryn claims to be true?"

"No, we have found no sign of Kelnozz in Sanctuary," Another lord said, standing with his hand clutching the hilt of his long sword.

The First Lord shook his head in disappointment as their meeting was adjourned so they could prepare to conduct the defense of Sanctuary. The guard was dismissed and he returned to his post.

Laryn led his company of mounted soldiers through the city towards where the dragon had landed to unload its riders. He knew a dragon to be a terrible foe, but with the score of trained men he had it should not prove an unbeatable one. Until he actually saw it, that is.

The blue was bigger then anything he had ever seen before. Bigger even then Akynson's friend Lanceril, daughter of the legendary Luingirth. He shook any fear he had from his mind and charged towards the dragon, lance leveled at the beast.

He caught a flash of something from his peripheral vision and then found himself bouncing off the ground, unseated from his horse. He came to a stop and stood up immediately, drawing his great sword to face his new foe.

"Put that away you fool!" The elf that had come out of nowhere and unseated him from his saddle said.

"Kelnozz! You traitor, why do you stop me from defending my home!" Laryn said, neither advancing nor retreating.

Kelnozz scowled at him and said, "I have no intention of not allowing you to defend Sanctuary! I also have no intention of letting you attack an ally!"

Laryn stopped and looked at the dragon and its companions as they came closer.

A light elf and several humans walked towards them.

"Well met Kelnozz!" The dragon called out.

"Aye, well met indeed, Luingirth," Kelnozz replied. "Though it bodes ill, for you never visit us unless it is to bring news of fell tidings."

The dragon chuckled without humor and changed his shape into that of a 7 foot tall warrior. "'Tis true enough, though this time I am but the means of travel, these good people are the bearer of fey tidings."

"Much like myself, I suppose," Kelnozz continued, muttering under his breath.

Laryn watched the conversation taking place between Kelnozz and Luingirth, slowly understanding why Kelnozz had stopped him from what would have not only been a mistake, but also a quick way to death. "I am Sir Laryn, commander of the city guard, what news is it you bring?"

The light elf stepped forward and nodded her head in respect. "I am Elvanshalee, our news is meant for Kelnozz only, Sir Laryn."

Kelnozz looked startled as he recognized Eric standing next to Elvanshalee, then he realized how achingly familiar Elvanshalee looked to him as well. He opened his mouth to speak when Alesha stepped out from behind him and Bill. Kelnozz was stunned. He recovered quickly, reaching for his swords and drawing them before anyone could breathe. It had been centuries since he had seen her last, but his memories of her were perfect and at no point had she showed any sign of redemption. Not only that, he had come to believe that redemption was a fool's hope. Once one's true colors were shown they never faded, they were only masked from time to time. Darakor had taught him that.

"Luingirth, you bring a light elven bitch into this city and then, on top of that, you show her the way here? It must have been a mighty price to pay to get you to betray me, old friend," Kelnozz said, not understanding how it had happened but preparing to fight regardless.

"Kelnozz, wait!" Eric called out, raising his hands in a show of peace. "We have news."

Kelnozz noticed the sword resting on Eric's hip and that alone gave him pause. His swords dipped slightly, but he remained on guard. "Speak, Eric, for I see that you still possess Alesha's sword."

"By my own desire and her own wishes, I possess this blade. She does not trust herself with it, and knows that perhaps better then anything else we possess this would slay her if the need arose," Eric said quickly.

"Is this true?"

Alesha looked at him, tears in her eyes threatening to spill. She rushed forward then, closing the distance between them rapidly. Kelnozz stood there, uncertain. He let his swords remain pointing down, however, allowing Alesha to throw her arms around him when she reached him. She clung desperately to him and let her tears flow, unable to stop them.

Kelnozz found himself confused. In his arms was the girl he had known long ago, before Bavorish had twisted her. For a heart wrenching moment he found himself teetering on the brink of madness. Alesha was there, with him! He held her and she claimed to be both free and redeemed. For that timeless moment he felt that perhaps everything could be made right. Then Darakor's betrayal reentered his mind. Memories of Alesha's sword ringing off his blades as he parried her strikes came to him. Visions of the globes dark elven mages had summoned to allow him and other elven lords to watch the battles of the Kinslayer wars where light elves fought with hate filled visages against dark elves. He knew then what he had to do. Even if Alesha somehow was better, she had been tempted and corrupted once, to bring her back here was a fool's mission, for surely she would be lulled and guided back to serving her dark God.

Elvanshalee looked around anxiously, hoping to catch sight of her brother and not wanting to witness the shameless display of affection. Bill glanced away as well, somewhat embarrassed. From where he stood it looked like Alesha and Kelnozz had some sort of a relationship and his actions earlier that morning had certainly showed no respect for any such thing

"What price indeed," Luingirth's deep voice boomed out, though this time it came from a towering giant of a man nearly 8 feet tall and covered in blue plate mail. "Foolish elf, thou knowest me better then that!"

Kelnozz just shook his head. Luingirth patted him on the shoulder and gently pulled Alesha off of him. She smiled faintly at him and tried to wipe her face clean. When that did not work she waved her hand in front of her face and used her magic to dry the tears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him, her voice catching in her throat.

Kelnozz looked from her to the others one by one. His enemy, a light elf, and a human he had charged with keeping a powerful weapon safe and far from both Alesha and Viconia all gathered together in Sanctuary. He shook his head. "I need a drink," he muttered, slamming his swords back in their scabbards angrily and turning to walk away.

Stunned, Alesha watched him go then glanced at the others. They saw her confused expression but were of little help to her. Luingirth frowned and said, "Go after him, all of you."

Luingirth walked off, heading towards a large ranch in the distance. The rest shuffled after Kelnozz dutifully, each having no idea what to say or do. Sir Laryn watched uncertainly. In the end he followed after the visitors, anxious to make sure his city was safe.

"We're back in Sanctuary?" Bill asked when they entered the same tavern they had come in when Alesha first brought them to Viconia.

Eric just shrugged. "Looks like it." Bill shot him a dark look to which Eric grinned and replied, "Hey bro, just like joining the military! Travel to strange and exciting places, experience diverse cultures, meet new and interesting people, then kill them."

Cowboy scowled and looked away. Eric chuckled, he could tell his friend was hiding a grin from him. Yamara, on the other hand, was not amused. She caught his attention and sent him a dark look reminding him to keep his mouth shut for now. Eric nodded, after all, Alesha did appear to be a little emotionally unstable and the consequences of that was very sobering.

They sat at Kelnozz's table in the bar and everybody waited patiently for someone to begin. Alesha looked miserable, Yamara calm, Eric curious, Bill pained, and Elvanshalee annoyed. Poor Laryn was just lost, anxious to learn what was going on but determined not to break any unknown social norm.

Finally, after several seconds of silence at the table Laryn could take it no more. He leaned forward and opened his mouth. Before he could speak Kelnozz held up his hand with his finger pointing up, indicating that Laryn was to wait. A look of dismay crossed his face but he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.

A serving girl arrived then, smiling at Eric and Bill encouragingly. She remembered there outlandish ways from their prior visit and had enjoyed their attentions. Kelnozz motioned at her and ordered. "Kyla, a round of ales please. Even the light elf."

She nodded and moved off, returning quickly with a platter full of filled mugs. In a matter of seconds everyone had a drink and she waited to see if anything else was necessary. Kelnozz held up his hand to her in the same way he had to Laryn. He raised his mug to his mouth and drank deeply from it, not setting it back down until it was empty. He handed it back to her for a refill.

He turned to the others gathered at the table and sighed deeply. "You first," he said, looking at Yamara.

Yamara looked startled. She had never met the dark elf in her life, nor did she have any idea what was going on, she was just along for lack of anything better to do. That and the strange interest she had in Eric that she was struggling to figure out.

"What do you want to know?" She asked him, no longer gaping like a fish.

"What do you want to tell me?" Kelnozz replied with a humorless smile.

"Not much," Yamara said with her own patented cold smile.

Kelnozz raised his eyebrows in surprise and then chuckled. "Fair enough," he said, looking at the others.

"Wait," Yamara said, having decided on something to say. "We have all trained with her in battle and without her magic she is a deadly adversary. With her magic she is unstoppable, as far as the three of us are concerned. She has known this at least as long as I have, and at no point has she done anything other then think of us as a group and a team. It is... it is unusual for me to think that way, but I recognize it in Alesha."

Kelnozz nodded his thanks to her for her input and turned to Bill. "Who are you and what part do you play in this?"

"Comic relief," Bill muttered under his breath, not realizing that elves possessed great hearing. Kelnozz kept his face calm though, pretending not to hear him.

"Name's Bill," he began officially. "Eric and I spent time jumping out of airplanes together and getting shot at in strange places. He needed help getting Yamara out of the hospital she was stuck in, so I helped. I just tagged along after that cuz Eric can't find his way out of a paper bag without me to guide him."

Bill grinned at Eric, who returned a scowl his way. "As for Alesha, I only met her a week ago and I've been trying to wake up from this strange dream ever since. Chicks like her don't hang out with guys like me. I've never met anyone like her, and I have yet to see her do any of this bad shit everybody keeps warning me about."

Kelnozz nodded. He turned to Alesha next. "Your turn," he said, keeping his face impassive.

Alesha looked over to Bill and smiled thankfully. She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze before she let it go and faced Kelnozz directly. The gesture was not lost on Kelnozz, but he did not know what to make of it so he filed it away for later consideration.

"I spent the better part of a century in that prison you left me, Kel, that's enough time to make anybody rethink themselves!" She said. "But the funniest part is that most of my rehabilitation happened only recently."

"Then Yamara showed up on my world with quite a tale of her own. We hit it off right away and shared quite a few stories. Finally I asked her to go and get my sword to keep it safe from my brother and to give it back to me. With it I figured I could get away from the place you left me in and start up a new life somewhere safe from Bavorish. I never knew that Rizzo would have let me go at any time if I had just asked him about it."

"When she returned it was with Eric and Cowboy. Yamara had my sword but she gave it to Eric to ensure it was in safe hands. I realized that instead of just stealing the sword from him or killing him and taking it, Yamara had brought him along because he impressed upon her the need to be wary. He helped impress that need to me as well."

"We first arrived in Sanctuary a week ago, but here is almost as safe from His influence as another world or the Tavern. When I spirited us to Luingirth's lair I felt Him trying to reclaim me almost instantly. I had to put up a magical shield around me to protect me from it, and I have scarcely felt it since. Now we are here."

"Why did you come here?" Kelnozz asked. "Wait, don't answer that. First you tell me what you will, Eric."

Eric looked at him and tried to figure out what all he needed to say. "Well, let me figure out where to start. I guess I'll start with Yamara, since I had not heard or seen anything of Alesha's worshippers in many years."

"Are you saying she is one of her cult?" Kelnozz asked, his voice dropping dangerously.

Eric frowned. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

Kelnozz raised his eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I do."

"Then don't interrupt me," Eric snapped at him. Properly rebuked, Kelnozz fell silent.

"As I was saying, Yamara and I hooked up at a club one night and immediately I knew something was different about her. She was special, and I could not figure out why. I thought I had it figured out later that night at my place, but I was wrong." Bill chuckled while Yamara actually looked a little uncomfortable at the disclosure.

"Then Alesha's brother's people popped in on us, catching us off guard. We fought them off once, then they came again later. The fighting was a little more vicious the second time, and two of them were killed, but the third managed to get the sword and escape."

Eric looked at Yamara, spurring his memory of the events. "We were both wounded and had to go to the hospital... er, the healers. While we were there Yamara had no records, to the police - the guards - she had never existed before that moment. This made them curious about us, so I called Bill up and with his help, we sprung her out of the hospital."

"That reminds me though, Yamara you said that you were being poisoned in the hospital, and you recovered very quickly once we got you out of there. I don't understand who could have or would have poisoned you though," Eric asked, turning to her. Kelnozz frowned at the distraction but had to admit that it was a valid question and he was curious about the blond haired woman himself.

Yamara found herself the center of attention again. She also found that she did not like it. "I am not sure. Those tubes that were in me were putting something into me. Something that weakened me. I assumed it was some sort of poison they were using to lower my defenses for when they planned on torturing and interrogating me."

Eric and Bill looked at each other, surprised at her revelation. "Shit, they don't do that in America! They were probably just using anti-biotics and sedatives to let your body heal."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, what he said. When I was in there it looked like standard issue medical equipment. But I still don't understand how you healed so much better and faster out of the hospital then when you were in it."

Yamara shrugged. "There are a lot of things about me you don't understand."

Kelnozz smirked in spite of himself. Eric looked at her, surprised and almost hurt. Bill chuckled and clapped Eric on the back. "You sure can pick 'em, bro!"

Bill ignored the dark looks both Eric and Yamara sent at him.

"Right, okay. Anyhow, after we got her out and she got better we went straight to Florida where the cult had set up shop again. We sneaked into their temple and disguised ourselves as worshippers. After a very grisly ritual they used the sword to open up some sort of a... a doorway, I guess. We opened fire then, killing as many of the sick bastards as we could. Yamara killed Alesha's brother and covered us while we made it to the doorway. Then we jumped through and she grabbed the sword."

"As for why we came here," Eric said, jumping ahead in the story, "it was Alesha's idea. I was very doubtful of her at first, but it had only been a few years on Earth and around 80 in the Tavern for her, though she had not aged a day.

"She did not know what to do at first, when confronted with her weapon and the opportunity to be free. She could have gone anywhere if we gave it to her, and she told us as much. After a night of rest," Eric left out the drinking match Bill and he had challenged one another to, "she had reached her decision. She wanted to come back here. She said it was because the influence of What's-his-nuts would be more powerful here then anywhere else, and if she could fight it off here, she could be free anywhere."

Eric paused. Kelnozz looked as though he wanted to speak but he waited in case Eric was going to snap at him for interrupting him again. Eric continued after a moment. "She also claimed that she wanted to see you, because if anyone could help her resolve a problem if it arose, it would be you. Also, she claimed then and a few times since then that she wants to try and help fix the problems she started here 80 years ago... or 8 years ago, or 800 years or however long ago it was."

"400 years ago," Kelnozz said. Eric had finished at last. Kelnozz thought about what he had said for a moment before he turned back to Alesha. "Is what he says true?"

"I don't know what happened on Earth," Alesha said, looking at Eric and then back to Kelnozz. "But the rest of it is."

Kelnozz nodded. He was not sure how he felt about it, but it would have to do. "Very well. For the time being I accept charge of your parole. Eric, keep her sword for the time being, I have much to think on yet. Alesha, understand that you are not to use your magic if at all possible, and not on any of us. Even if I was mortally wounded and your magic alone could save me, let me die."

Alesha's mouth opened a bit in surprise. She was on the verge of saying something but the look of finality in his eyes silenced her. Finally she closed her eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Kel," she whispered.

"I will let you know this much," he admitted, giving her the benefit of the doubt in spite of what his increasingly suspicious nature coached him to do. "It was through magic before that you fell from grace, as far to many have. Be you lesser or greater then any of the others I do not care. Only take care that you understand the price that wielding such power exacts."

"Now you," Kelnozz said, betraying no emotion to Alesha and instead turning to face Elvanshalee coldly. "What does a light elf want in Sanctuary other then to bring ruin to it?"

Elvanshalee returned his glare. "I had hoped you would be a little more open minded, we are both elves, after all."

Kelnozz snorted. "Let me tell you of light elves, since you seem to know so little about them."

With a voice filled with animosity he began. "I had just been born when a traitorous elf killed my mother. Then I was barely even a boy and my father was killed by a light elf. Not killed, mind you, but assassinated. And not any light elf, but his closest friend. That was my first experience with a light elf!"

"Not all of us behave in such a way," she refuted him.

Kelnozz laughed harshly. "You are right, most openly attack me. It is a special few that try to befriend me before turning on me when I trust them most. I have, in all my five thousand years, met a single light elf that did not try to kill me. And after I left her realm, other light elves came to slay her! That is the story of your kind!"

Elvanshalee listened to his words carefully. Understanding of them came to her quickly. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. "You mean... what about... where is my brother?"

Kelnozz eyed her with a cold fury. "Who is your brother?"

"Darakor Kinslayer," she responded.

Kelnozz stood up from the table quickly. "You are a fool! He betrayed me over 20 years ago! Where did you come from?"

He held one sword drawn and pointed at her across the table. The tip was less then six inches from her throat. She looked at it fearfully for a moment, then swallowed her fear down at returned her gaze to him.

"I came with these others from Luingirth's lair on his very back. Before that I tended the same grove my mother was responsible for before my father captured and enslaved her. I am no nature priestess, but I do as best I can with my wizardry."

The color drained from Kelnozz's face as he stared her down. His hand began to twitch as he battled an internal struggle. Finally he said to her in a voice tight with fury, "Be gone from here and never seek me out again. Your father destroyed the only decent light elf I have ever known, and your brother was the son I never had before he betrayed and wounded my heart. I have had enough of your family and your race."

Laryn gasped as Kelnozz said the last bit. He remembered well the prophecy Akynson had told him, of how Kelnozz would only be slain by his son. Yet Kelnozz had just admitted Darakor had not been his son. Laryn was confused.

"No!" Elvanshalee stood up, slamming her hands on the table. She ignored Kelnozz's blade in spite of the nick her rapid movement had caused her on her collar bone.

"You will not dismiss me! Not after all I have gone through! My brother has lived a hard life, if he has chosen otherwise that is beyond my control. My mother lives in misery, more so since I have left her, I am sure! If what you say is true and if you have any love in your cold heart for her, then help me save her from her prison!" Elvanshalee glared at Kelnozz, her cheeks flushed with anger.

Alesha looked back and forth between the two. She was confused. Kelnozz had a fling with a light elf? Or, if Elvanshalee spoke truly, Kelnozz had loved a light elf? What did that make her? Her stomach, already tumbling from the nerves the meeting had brought out, dropped out from under her suddenly. She tightened down on it, refusing to give in to the bottomless chasm that seemed beneath her chair.

"Laryn," Kelnozz said, his wrathful eyes never leaving Elvanshalee. "Get her far from me and, if you are smart, far from Sanctuary. Thanks to her the safety of this city has already been breached. Prepare for the attack."

"But how?" Sir Laryn blurted out, confused. "Sanctuary's defenses prevent anyone who wishes the city harm from finding it!"

Kelnozz slammed his sword into its scabbard. "They don't come for Sanctuary. They come for something hidden within it."

Kelnozz looked at each of them, daring them to refute him. Fires raged in his eyes, fires of deep turmoil and pain in his soul. Fires that needed to be vented. He stalked out of the tavern, heading to the same ranch that Luingirth had journeyed too.

"Go, fool!" Alesha barked after everybody stared after the departing dark elf. Laryn jumped to his feet and grabbed Elvanshalee by the arm roughly. She looked at him moodily, then pulled her arm free of his.

"I will go on my own, human," she snapped. Laryn bristled at her but waited on her to walk out ahead of him.

"What do we do?" Bill asked, having no clue of what was going on but still wise enough to lay low while the hostility had been high.

"If Sanctuary is to come under attack, we defend it!" Alesha said coldly. She stood up and let her eyes wrest briefly on her sword at Eric's hip. The others rose from the table as well, Yamara lastly looking back and forth between Alesha and the door.

Trumpets sounded in the distance. The tavern's inhabitants, having recently resumed their talking after the scene caused by the raving dark elf, fell silent again. As soon as the clarion call of the trumpet was heard clearly, they also stood up and filed out of the tavern quickly.

"It has begun," Alesha said softly. She joined the line leaving the tavern, glancing back at her companions to make sure they had fallen in with her.

*****

"My old friend, how have you been?" Garrick said as Luingirth walked up on where he was sitting under a shade tree carving, badly, on a piece of wood. In front of them down a shallow rise was a very calm and very large pond.

"I am well, how art thou?" the dragon in human guise responded.

Garrick grinned. "Getting older but not any wiser."

Luingirth snorted. Garrick had been a human once, ages ago on another world. He had come to Viconia long ago with some companions, shortly after the Kinslayer Wars. Through quest and trial they vanquished the Dark Lord of Viconia, Bavorish, and stepped up into the roles of deities of the world. Bavorish, defeated but too powerful to be destroyed, had ascended to Godhood as well. After the passing of thousands of years Garrick had finally grown bored of being a God. He relinquished his throne to his son, Nordan, and rejoined the ranks of mortals. Although, having once possessed such power he was now anything but a mere mortal. Unaffected by age and sickness, Garrick looked every bit the muscle-bound barbarian of legend people expected of him.

"So Sanctuary's time is finally up, eh dragon?" Garrick asked, tossing the horrible carving off to the side and sheathing the dagger he had been using. He stood up and faced him directly, forced to look up at him in spite of his own massive height of over six and a half feet tall.

"Aye, its time hath come."

"Was she worth it?" Garrick asked after a moment of reflection.

"What doth thou mean?"

"The light elf, I saw her. You brought her here and surely you were followed. Was she worth it?"

Luingirth snorted again. "Thou art slothful! All of thee. The time is ripe for all of thee to rise up and finish this! To long hath it stagnated."

Garrick laughed as Luingirth carried on. "You always were a sucker for a cute one," he said.

"Human, she is an elf! I am a dragon! I EAT HER KIND!"

Garrick kept on laughing, holding his heavily muscled stomach. Luingirth roared in disgust and stalked away from the former God. Garrick just kept laughing, taking long minutes to straighten up and then wiping the tears from his eyes. When he straightened he saw Kelnozz sitting in his chair.

"Hey Kel, just had a visit from Loo," Garrick said, clapping the elf on the shoulder.

Kelnozz grunted, staring into the distance the whole time. "You knew Alesha as well as any, do you think her capable of redemption?"

Garrick chuckled. "I knew her as the dark queen, old friend. The only thing I knew of her at her height of power was that she was wicked and cruel and could have put the most talented whore out of a job. By the Nine Hells, she could have put a city of whores out of a job!"

Kelnozz looked over at him, "Wistful?"

Garrick grinned. "Aye lad, she was the closest thing to a challenge I have had since I came to this place."

"But can she stop being Alesha the princess of Ancaruin?" Garrick asked rhetorically. "Well, the dragon is no concern at the moment, and between you and me, Bavorish has better things to worry about then one simple girl who showed a spark of promise a few hundred years ago. Gods, they have better issues to deal with."

Kelnozz grunted and looked back down at the pond. Kelnozz had hoped Garrick would be able to put him at ease. Instead he had dodged the question. Kelnozz knew that what Alesha really had to worry about was herself, not Bavorish.

"Good fight on the way," Garrick offered, trying to cheer him up.

Kelnozz sighed. "They come for the last of Ancaruin. Somewhere in this city his spirit resides. They will come in such numbers we will not be able to hold them."

"It'll be fun trying though," Garrick said with a grin. "By the way, was the light elf as good looking as she must have been to charm Luingirth into letting her live?"

Kelnozz dropped into a brooding silence. In the distance they heard the trumpets sound. The enemy had been sighted.

"She reminded me of her mother," Kelnozz muttered, standing up and heading off. Garrick raised an eyebrow and followed after him, magically summoning his hammer with a thought from where it rested against the tree that provided shade for the seat overlooking the pond.

Chapter 22

"Guard duty?" Eric muttered for the hundredth time, clearly irritated.

All four of them stood as rear guard for the retreating inhabitants of Sanctuary. Akynson, the cities most powerful wizard, had created a magical portal that the refugees filed through one at a time. Old women and children mostly, though a few others as well. Elvanshalee, refusing to let Laryn send her from the city, stood with the companions.

"I don't get it," Bill said, talking to the tall elven woman. "Is Kelnozz your father or something?"

Elvanshalee cast a withering glare at him. Her continuing presence in the company of humans was trying her patience. "No, boy, he is not. He knew my mother before my father captured and corrupted her mind with his magic. Enough of her mind stayed alive through the birth of my brother and many years later my own birth that she passed her hidden knowledge and spirit on to me. She died giving me birth, but she lives on in me."

Bill grunted, quite sure what she said was impossible, but then again he had lost count of the impossibilities he had seen since he had thrown his lot in with Eric and Yamara. "So this Darakor guy, he's your brother and he used to be Kelnozz's student?"

Elvanshalee sighed. "Yes, he is and yes, he did. I lost contact with him centuries ago when I fled Mezarbolle, but he had already abandoned us and thrown in his lot with Kelnozz by then. I searched and studied for many years, learning and growing in power so that I could find him and join with him. News of Kelnozz and Darakor was sketchy, at best over the years. Now I find out that 20 years ago my brother turned traitor yet again and returned to my father."

"And your father is a badass, eh?"

Elvanshalee turned on Bill and glared at him. "Yes, he is! He is older then anyone still living on Viconia. He was one of the leaders of the light elves in the war that sundered the elven nations! It was he who slew..."

All of their eyes went to Elvanshalee as her voice trailed off. In the distance the sounds of battle could be heard. Above the city to the northwest they could see dragons flitting about in the sky. Most of them chromatic in color. Blues, blacks, reds, and green dragons. A few others had fought against them, the goodly aligned metallic dragons that had been near enough to Sanctuary to hear the call to war and were able to answer it.

"What?" Alesha asked Elvanshalee frostily, walking over to stand beside her. "What were you going to say?"

Elvanshalee's voice was soft as she realized what she had suddenly discovered. "In the Kinslayer Wars, my father slew Myragordamar Risingmoon, the general of the elven nations."

"Risingmoon..." Alesha echoed snidely, making the connection almost as quickly as the light elf had. "Your father slew Kelnozz's father."

"Ouch," Eric muttered, paying attention to the conversation but watching the streets and the nearby buildings for enemy activity. Bill just shook his head and had to admit that would put a powerful hate in him too.

*****

Above the battlefield Garrick rode on the back of Luingirth, striking with his hammer from afar whenever opportunity presented itself. He stayed onto the dragon's back as though grafted to it through the various acrobatic maneuvers the dragon went through while fighting against his chromatic cousins. Each of Garrick's hammer throws struck with a mighty crashing of thunder, grievously wounding whatever it hit.

Below a different battle raged. Sir Laryn's forces met a great force of orcs, striking three down for every defender that fell but still being slowly overwhelmed. Then came Darakor's special contingent, demons summoned from unimaginable depths in the world and other planes of existence. They easily waded through the ranks of the defenders, striking fear in their hearts. Sir Laryn charged about, trying to rally his troops. He struck repeatedly at the demons, his shining silver sword slicing gaping wound after gaping wound in their ranks.

Then a greater demon pushed through the lesser ones, smoke rising from the heat generated by its hellish skin. It stood almost 20 feet tall and walked upright like a man, but with widely spread cloven hoofs on each foot that caused small flames to erupt with every step. A long tail, covered in the same course black fur the rest of it's lower body was, ended in twin spikes and coiled to the ground behind it. Occasionally the tale would lash out and deeply pierce somebody, striking with the force of a ballista bolt. It possessed long arms that nearly dragged on the ground. In one taloned fist it carried a massive mace big enough to fell a large tree in a single swing, the other was empty and it used it to pick up the defenders and toss them about as though they were made of paper. The demons upper torso was red in hue and covered in armored scales that extended to its arms. It's head resembled a cross between a man and a spider, with four eyes and mandibles with sharp and wicked looking teeth on the end of them.

Seeing the demon king, Sir Laryn reigned in his faithful stallion and sheathed his sword. He lowered his lance and charged towards it, calling out a chant to Karthor, his chosen patron. Laryn's holy symbol that hung from a silver chain about his neck glowed with an unearthly light, lending credence to his faith and his strength. As he neared the demon it brought back its mace and reached forward with its unnaturally long arms. It grabbed Sir Laryn's lance in its hand and twisted it out of his grip before he could try to fight back. He reached for his sword on his back but before he could draw it the mace crashed into him and his steed, sending them flying bodily into a nearby building. Neither rose from where they crashed.

With that overwhelming defeat the defenders began to waver. Comprised of men and women of all ages old enough to fight, they had seen their leader discarded like he was little more then a twigs being caught up in a forest fire. In the few minutes that followed several hundred defenders were slain or routed.

*****

"Party time!" Bill called out, pointing down a road to the north.

Eric followed his gaze and saw that the defenders had been pushed back and were now less then half a mile away from them. The first ranks of the orcs and demons came into view. An occasional chromatic dragon flew nearby as well, but blasts from Alesha's hands kept them at bay, as well as the few remaining metallic dragons that struggled to protect the refugees.

Eric grunted and flipped the safety off his pistol. Bill readied his M-4. The giant demon rounded the corner then and started wading through the defenders. Both men's jaws dropped as they saw the demon. Eric felt a presence behind him then. Turning around he saw a very pale looking Yamara.

"We must flee," she said to him, her voice hushed but serious.

"We will, but these refugees have to get away," Eric reassured her. A glance over his shoulder showed that the gate was not big enough, only one person could go through at a time and it was taking far too long to shuffle the remaining 200 or so people through. The invaders looked about to rout the defenders, if that happened they would be on them before the refugees had fled.

Yamara's jaw tightened and she looked at the line, judging it and obviously trying to make a decision. "We will die here," she said, coming to a decision at the last.

Eric nodded solemnly. "That may be."

"You would die for these people you do not know?" She asked, surprised.

"Somebody has to," he replied casually. He saw the seriousness of her look and softened a little. "Yamara, we had this talk before, back on Earth, remember? I defend those who cannot defend themselves. It is thankless and without reward, but if I am not willing to defend them, who will? There are greater things that must survive even if I can not."

"I just say it's a shitty job, but somebody's gotta do it!" Bill called over to them. Both of them ignored him.

Yamara nodded after a minute and looked away. "You remind me of someone I once knew," she admitted sadly. With that said, she turned and walked back toward Alesha and Elvanshalee.

"Damn him," she muttered, standing next to the dark haired woman.

"Some things are worth dying for, eh?" Alesha asked her with a bitter smile as she scanned the skies for another target. Alesha was replacing her lost energy as quickly as she spent it by tapping into the anxiety and fear of the refugees.

"He reminds me of somebody I once knew on another world. Noble son-of-a-bitch that would not do the smart thing."

Alesha glanced at her and saw tears threatening to fall from Yamara's eyes. "You upset because he reminds you of this person?"

Yamara sighed. "No."

"Then why?"

"Because I'm going to do something stupid because of Evart," Yamara snapped at her. Quietly she said, "I owe him that much."

The women eyed the approaching storm of invaders. They were perhaps a quarter a mile away now. Less then 100 refugees remained, and amazingly the defenders were holding. Well, not holding, but performing a fighting retreat.

"You could leave if you wanted, I've been there, there's no shame in living to fight again," Alesha offered her. Yamara looked at her, half torn, half confused. She was on the verge of a major decision. A decision with far reaching effects for her on many levels.

"But would living be worth the cost of dying?"

Yamara understood her. She hated her at that moment, but she understood her. "Damn you too," Yamara said to her. Alesha smiled thinly, then whipped her arm forward in a throwing motion suddenly. A small red ball rocketed forth from her palm, streaking towards a black dragon that was streaking low across the tops of the buildings and coming up on the defenders from the side. Alesha's spell struck it in the side and exploded violently, sending the dragon off course and crashing it into a house. Between the fireball and the crash landing, it struggled a few times to rise from the wreckage, knocking another wall down on top of it. The dragon lay still then.

A few moments later Eric again sensed Yamara was near him. He turned and looked at her, offering a smile of welcome. She returned his smile weakly. "I'm staying," she said.

Eric looked at her, not understanding what she meant by her words. He nodded, knowing that there was something deeper was going on within her. "That's good to hear. We'll make them pay, if nothing else."

She nodded, knowing he did not fully understand what was going on within her. She did not even understand why she bothered telling him. He was only a reflection of the man she had respected and admired. She did not need his approval. Yamara shook her head and walked back to her own position, caught up in a maze of old memories and new ones.

*****

Having thoroughly scouted the invaders, Kelnozz had still seen no sign of Darakor. For that matter, the closest thing he had seen to a leader was the demon lord that was destroying everything in his path as he pursued the defenders. With every block of ground that they gained a group of orcs would break off and conduct a thorough search, looking for that which was Ancaruin. Kelnozz had no idea what it would look like or where it might be, none of the residents of Sanctuary did. Still the search continued.

Kelnozz knew that his time to act had come. With nearly 100 people still to evacuate and the doomed defenders growing to small to be effective, the end was near. In the air Garrick and Luingirth had taken a serious toll on the invading dragons, but they could not do enough damage quickly enough to make a difference. The distance was to great for him to get their in time, however, save for his special means of transportation.

*****

Alesha gasped as Kelnozz appeared suddenly in front of the advancing host. A pocket had formed as the defenders withdrew to marshal what little remained of their forces against the unstoppable onslaught. She saw him tuck the glowing white pendant under his chain shirt and realized what everyone else had missed.

"That is my necklace he wears!" She hissed.

"So?" Bill asked, amazed that at a time like this she was concerned about accessorizing.

"Ancaruin himself gave me that necklace! It possesses great powers. Powers so great I could never figure out where they came from."

Eric spoke up then, "Then it looks like it's in good hands."

"No!" Alesha said, exasperated. "That pendant must be the last reservoir for Ancaruin's spirit! That is why he entrusted it to me, because no one would think to look for it there. And with it in Kelnozz's hands now, he would be the last possible place to look for it!"

Having little to no experience in such affairs, the others took Alesha at her word. While their understanding of magical affairs was limited, the consequences of what was about to take place seemed obvious. "We've got to get him away from them!" Eric said, advancing forward. Bill followed him automatically, setting up an overlapping field of fire.

Yamara cursed but followed with only a moment of hesitation, staying near to them and clutching her short sword and dagger in fists tight with anxiety. Alesha and Elvanshalee moved forward as well, abandoning their posts for what they perceived to be a more important matter.

At the forefront of the battle the demon lord looked at Kelnozz and howled in rage. "4000 years I have waited for this moment, elf! I will feast on your heart!"

Kelnozz acknowledged the demon by drawing his swords and crouching slightly. "This time banishing you will not be nearly enough penalty, Helanduril!"

The two beings crashed together in a mighty display, steel and fire swirling about one another. Even the charging demons behind Helanduril gave pause to watch the mighty spectacle, for never had they seen their general defeated, though history claimed that this one he fought had done it once long after the Kinslayer Wars had officially ended.

They separated once as Kelnozz was thrown into the wall of a nearby building. He bounced off it and rolled to his feet from the ground. Helanduril screamed in rage at Kelnozz's refusal to die, and charged after him. Kelnozz threw one of his blades into the air and with an inhuman leap caught the edge of the roof of the building he had recently been forced to meet. He swung himself smoothly up onto the roof and caught his descending sword.

Helanduril snapped his arm forward attempt to smash Kelnozz from the roof of the building with his mace. Kelnozz leapt forth from the roof and cleanly evaded the weapon. He swung one sword across as he reached the apogee of his flip over Helanduril's head and seemingly missed entirely.

Kelnozz landed behind Helanduril and was forced to dive to the ground and roll because of his momentum. He turned and saw Helanduril spin about to face him, his open handed arm falling free as he turned, severed cleanly at the shoulder.

Helanduril roared in agony and the humans fleeing were forced to their knees by the sound of the demons wailing. He advanced on Kelnozz and quickly found his mace wielding arm a stump at the wrist. Helanduril then summoned up his powers in an attempt to incinerate Kelnozz with a mighty fireball, but ere he was able to do that Kelnozz once again leapt into the air and both swords swung cleanly through Helanduril's neck, severing it so that the head fell free to the ground.

The demon's body fell to the ground and lay there, then began to slowly dissipate into mist as it was banished to the Nine Hells from which it was spawned. Not content with that, Kelnozz slashed into its disappearing chest and reached into the monstrous cavity, ignoring the burning ichor that clung to his gloved hand.

"Luingirth!" Kelnozz cried out loudly as he wrenched his arm free of the demons chest, holding the immense heart in his hand. He lofted it high into the air, rivaling all but the best giant thrown boulder.

Luingirth ignored Garrick's cry of distress and swooped down from the titanic sky battle and spotted the heart as it neared the peak of its ascent. He inhaled deeply then spat out a stream of lightning that pierced the heart and made it explode it nothingness, completely destroying the demon. The great dragon then turned about in mid air to deal with his pursuers that were close on his heels. Garrick scowled at the elf for trying to show off, then looked for a new target to swat with his hammer.

Kelnozz held both his swords and looked at the refugees and the four, now five, companions standing there with mouths open in amazement. The demons also stood passively for a few moments, contemplating what it meant if the mightiest of their numbers could be slain by this solitary elf. Then they charged forth, content to overwhelm him with numbers.

They all saw the look in Kelnozz's eyes before he was overrun. Alesha screamed out to him in a wordless cry. She threw out her arms and sweeping lances of flames shot forth, crashing into the demons and sending them stumbling away from Kelnozz. Kelnozz looked at her in amazement, stunned by the display of power she had generated. He prepared to run and join them when a pair of dragons arced down from the sky towards him. Now that Kelnozz was on the field of battle, all eyes were upon him.

Flames from the mouth of a red dragon slammed into the ground behind him as he ran. He leapt to the side as they washed over where he would have been, narrowly missing him. The other dragon, a blue one, spat out a jagged bolt of lightning from its mouth that slammed into him and lifted him from the ground with the power of its energy, dashing him into a nearby building. He slumped to the ground, stunned momentarily.

Eric and Bill opened fire with their guns, taking out rushing orcs with amazing efficiency. Bill had been the squads backup sniper back in their glory days, so he was putting each bullet fired from his M-4 into a vital area of an orc. A few times they fired on the demons, but the bullets did not faze them at all, so they concentrated on what they could kill. All too quickly, as it always seemed to happen in a firefight, they ran low on ammo. Eric stuffed his pistol back in his holster while Bill dropped his now useless gun on the ground, they drew their melee weapons.

Alesha continued to send bolt after bolt of magic into the seething mass, slowing them down but unable to stop them. In a few minutes Kelnozz was surrounded. He had regained his feet and stood with the building to his back, facing the hoard that advanced on him. He was hurt badly but far from out of the fight. They rushed in at him and he met them with his swords singing.

*****

"No!" Alesha growled when the demons crashed into where Kelnozz stood. The defenders numbered less then a handful by that time, and they rushed towards the portal behind her. Eric, Yamara, and Bill stood still, watching in horror at what was surely happening to the elf through the thick crowd of bodies.

Bill snapped out of it first. "Dude, we've got to get the fuck out of here!" He said, slapping Eric on the shoulder. Eric started and realized Bill was right. He grabbed Yamara's hand and pulled her with them as they followed the last of the defenders towards the escape portal. Bill grabbed Alesha and tried to pull her with them. She refused to move, easily pulling her arm out of the larger man's grip.

"Alesha, there's nothing we can do for him now!" Bill screamed at her. "We've got to go!"

She shook her head. She looked at him and he recoiled, seeing a look that inspired terror in him. Alesha looked every bit as deadly as she had at the height of her power right then. With a look alone she could have melted Bill where he stood. "Go!" she said to him, her voice strangled. "I will stay to teach them a lesson! Nothing else remains for me."

They were buffeted by a blast of wind then. Luingirth landed heavily, bleeding from several wounds. Garrick leapt from the back of the dragon, falling over twenty feet but landing lightly with only a flexing of his knees. He ran over to them then.

"I saw from above," He said to her, blood running from a few open wounds on his chest and arms. As they watched the blood flow lessened and the wounds began to slowly close. Bill's mouth dropped open in amazement.

"You must flee, you can do nothing for him here. Go with the refugees to Helmsmasher Isle, I will meet you there. This is not over, only more complicated."

"I will not leave him!" Alesha said fiercely. Garrick slapped her across the face, sending her stumbling with his action. He had put very little of his titanic strength into the blow.

"For once in your life listen to me, petulant child!" He yelled at her. Bill wanted to step forward and protect her but a hard glance from Garrick kept him in his place. "Do the right thing for once! Get out of here with your people and live to fight again! If you die here you only weaken our cause. Think beyond yourself!"

Alesha looked at him in shock. That he had touched her violently had amazed her. Not that he had tried to do it so much as that he had moved so quickly and powerfully that she had been unable to stop him. She knew then that Garrick still possessed most of his former might. She nodded, letting Bill pull her back towards the portal, which was now free of any stragglers.

Garrick turned and ran towards the demonic host, yelling loudly to draw their attention. His hammer was held above his head, brandished in a war cry. Luingirth leapt to the air and followed after him, offering air support.

Elvanshalee was waiting at the gate for them. She stood beside Akynson, who was maintaining the portal through his concentration and nearly depleted endurance. He nodded to them and motioned for them to hurry through. When the rest arrived, Elvanshalee slipped through first. Eric and Yamara followed, then Alesha. She cast one last longing glance towards the battle that was still going on centered around Kelnozz, then stepped through. Bill hurried after her.

Chapter 23

Kelnozz awoke chained to a wall in a rather dank and dismal dungeon. He looked about and realized that he was alone in his cell. He pondered for a moment before he remembered what had taken place.

He slumped against the wall, defeated, for several hours. He cursed himself for his foolishness time and again. Alesha had returned to Viconia and without him there, she would be able to do as she pleased. Garrick alone could stop her now when she resumed her evil ways, but whether he would or not was unknown. At long last the door to his cell opened up and his captor and tormentor stepped in.

"It seems as though the roles have been reversed," Kelnozz muttered bitterly.

"Ah, not true, my friend, not true at all," Darakor said with a warm smile. "You are chained merely to keep you from thrashing about and further injuring yourself. You were near death for well nigh a week, and it took everything our priests and healers had to keep you from slipping away from us. It was a good fight though, from all accounts. You slew dozens of demons before they overwhelmed you."

Kelnozz fixed him with an evil stare. "Why did you not let me die, then you could claim victory and your betrayal would be complete! Like father, like son... for both of us."

"So you know then," Darakor said flatly. "I did not know myself until you told me who it was that slew your father. Then I was too frightened to tell you. I needed you then, more then you know. How did you find out?"

"From your sister, the one you followed to Sanctuary!"

Darakor's eyes widened. He turned around to think and pace. "Elvanshalee lives? That wench, she must have staged her death to escape. Bah, she always was to much like our mother."

"You once spoke of a beautiful light that you said that I reminded you of in some ways, and that she was not like my race. What was her name?" Darakor asked, craving an answer to the one question that had bugged him since Kelnozz had first mentioned her to him.

Kelnozz glared at him, knowing what Darakor was realizing and hating him all the more for it. "Her name was Jethallin."

Darakor spun away from the prisoner, needing a moment of privacy as he debated what that meant to him. He shook his head, disbelieving it. Finally he turned back and looked at Kelnozz.

"I know, she is your mother," Kelnozz's tone was acid with defeat.

"Yes, she is," Darakor admitted, somehow not surprised that Kelnozz knew of her. "But do you know who my father is?"

Kelnozz snorted. "Of course I know! The one man I have killed thousands upon thousands of times in my dreams for what he has done."

"You're too late, I already did that," Darakor confided. "I am the Master of light elves and ruler of the Lost Lands."

"Congratulations," Kelnozz said, dully. That Narellin was slain caused a weight inside of him to lift. He had not done it, but he was dead and that was enough.

"But he was not my father," Darakor continued, ignoring Kelnozz. "My father was a dark elf that Jethallin nursed back to health only days before my father overran her lands and captured her."

Kelnozz stared at him, refusing to believe him. Part of his spirit he had considered lost and defeated forever came back within him then. He stared at him and ground his teeth. "Never!" he vowed.

"It is true, not only my one time friend and mentor, you are also my father." Darakor smiled weakly, faintly remembering all the times he had wished for that very thing when they had journeyed together. "It may be some consolation to you then that Narellin died by the hand of someone in your family. Our family."

Kelnozz stood up slowly and turned away, chains clanking dully. "You are no son of mine, blood be damned!"

Darakor was silent for many minutes, watching Kelnozz's back. Both were shocked at the realization of their relationship. "Many times in our journeys I wished that we were father and son, Kelnozz. I looked up to you. I learned from you. I wanted to be like you!"

"But I never could. We are too different." Darakor waited for Kelnozz to turn around, continuing only when it became apparent that he would not. I remember it as though I had seen it myself. Your mother, Kalista Risingmoon, had just given birth to a promising boy. She named him Kelnozz and sent away her nurses and her advisor. I saw no more of her until later, after Myragordamar, your father, returned early and found her conducting the rituals that would later be perfected to turn dark elves into light elves upon you."

Kelnozz spun around and stared at him, shocked. He staggered back against the wall and shook his head. "No," he whispered. Then gaining strength he said it again. "No more lies, damn you! My mother was no traitor! She was... she..."

"She died mere moments after you were born to a forsaken elven assassin?" Darakor prompted. Kelnozz nodded. Darakor shook his head. "No, father, she did not. Narellin planted that idea in your father's head so that he could justify banishing her and not obey the King's writ that she be executed. He found her performing very similar rituals over you, freshly born. He interrupted them, your father did, but some of it took affect. The rest Narellin put into you when your father took your mother secretly away and banished her. Look at the strength, speed, and skill we possess, our blood is strong, father! There is strength unrivaled in us! Much of it skipped you, however. It skipped you and manifested itself in me."

Kelnozz stared at him, refusing to accept Darakor's words even as they insinuated themselves into his memories and mind, explaining away a great many incongruities he only now remembered of his childhood. He shook his head and clenched his fists.

"Where is she?" he growled, glaring at Darakor with every ounce of willpower in him demanding that the light elf tell him.

"I know not," Darakor replied. "Only Myragordamar and his personal guard are privy to that information, and they are long since slain on the fields in front of Thoragloorin. Do you even remember where Thoragloorin is, Kelnozz?"

Kelnozz glared at him. Of course he remembered. The long lost elven capitol was in Southern Belurian. The once mighty and beautiful city sat around, on, and in a cool lake surrounded by mountains. All trails into it had been broken and sundered with the banishing of the elves, and mighty wards prevented the light elves from pillaging it. The few dark elves that had sought to return to it since the banishment had ended had never returned, however. In spite of the glory of what had been, the elves were very happy with Innowendyn and Loralost. Those that remembered Thoragloorin were so few and far between that no official expedition had ever been launched.

Seeing recognition in Kelnozz's eyes, Darakor decided to to win him over. The time for causing hurt between them could be over, he surmised. Now was the time to heal the hurt and show Kelnozz the proper path to victory and power.

"Come with me, father. Come with me and witness the strength we have at our fingertips! Even now the impossible becomes possible. Ancaruin is to be risen!"

"You can not control Ancaruin," Kelnozz said darkly, "you were not even born when I helped in his slaying the first time, and the elven race as a whole had not even been conceived in the eyes of the gods when Ancaruin came into existence. Nay, if you think that you can wield some manner of power over him you are more foolish than I thought, give this up and come with me away from this accursed place!"

Darakor turned away from Kelnozz again and said through clenched teeth, "I knew you would come here, Kelnozz. I knew that you would try to stop me. I know you better then you know yourself sometimes. I cannot leave, for even did I not covet the more vain and material things in life, it is to late for me, for I have held Cirithallion and the sword acknowledges me as its rightful wielder. Cirithallion was made for me, don't you understand? Soon Ancaruin's essence will be pulled from it but the sword will remain mine, proving who and what I am."

"Then my oath falls unto you. If Narellin is beyond my grasp, then the person who possesses his position, title, and apparently memories will fulfill it."

Darakor sighed silently and reached into a pouch at his side to pulled out a set of keys. He turned back to Kelnozz and said, "Come Kelnozz, come with me and let me show you why I am unable to leave. You do not know the power."

"You are wrong!" Kelnozz spat at him. "I know all about power! I know that the greed for it has caused thousands of elves to lose their lives, both light and dark. It has bled this world red with the lust for it. Every damned person I have ever cared for has been lost to the lure of this thing you call power."

Darakor spun on him, speaking wrathfully for the first time ever to him. "And what of yourself, white knight? You possess no small amount yourself! You would chastise me for wanting to be greater then I am, yet none alive in this world are as great as you are! How easy it is to condescend those who are lesser then you!"

Kelnozz felt slapped by his rebuke. He snapped his mouth shut after a silent moment of preparing to retort. Darakor gave him a triumphant look and raised his key. Kelnozz remained silent as Darakor unlocked his chains and led him out of the cell. They ascended several sets of stairs and went down many long, twisting and curving passages until they came to a landing overlooking one of the most unholy sights Kelnozz had ever seen.

Kelnozz dimly recognized the place as the main chamber of Ancaruin's lair so many thousands of years ago. Now it had changed, however, for instead of massive piles and gold, gems, and jewels laying about randomly, a massive alter of sorts had been constructed. Upon this alter lay several objects of all makes and sizes, including the sword called Cirithallion. All of the objects glowed with an unearthly reddish hue while nearly a score of priests surrounded the alter and were praying reverently.

Kelnozz studied the landing he was on and saw a weapons rack against the rock wall. He knew immediately that the two long swords upon it and the box beneath it contained his equipment.

"Ah yes, I also wanted to thank you for the final piece of Ancaruin's puzzle," Darakor said, gesturing toward the altar. Kelnozz's eyes fixed almost immediately on the centerpiece, the amulet he had worn for hundreds of years, unsuspecting of it's true nature all the while.

Darakor smiled without humor and said, "Your pendant. You must forgive me for forgetting to tell you about that. It seems that Cirithallion was not the largest remaining part of Ancaruin's essence, though none of us knew it until we had recovered it and studied it. No, all those many years you and I fought over a simple sword that was not really that important. All that time the true object of power lay under our very noses. Well, actually, it laid under your very nose.

Kelnozz's eyes widened in horror as he began to understand what Darakor was saying.

"Yes, Kelnozz, apparently Ancaruin had made provisions in case something were to attempt to destroy him. Upon the death of his body, his consciousness and spirit fled into a special amulet he had enchanted long ago. That very same amulet he gave to Alesha. The one that you took from her when you defeated her and that you wore and used without question up until recently. Rather ironic, isn't it?"

Kelnozz shut his eyes as if that would keep him from hearing the chanting going on below and the truth from sinking into his brain. "All those years..." Kelnozz said in a daze. "I was a pawn in a greater game yet again..."

Darakor was silent for a moment before he said, "Excuse me, father, I am needed for a very important part of this ceremony."

Kelnozz remained where he was with one of Darakor's elite light elven guardsmen on either side of him. He tested the manacles he still wore and felt little give in the wrought iron.

Kelnozz looked down into the lair with eyes drained of emotion. He looked down and saw a priest of Bavorish come walking up to the alter with the pendant held reverently in his hands. Instead of the seemingly pure white glow it had possessed earlier, it now had a malevolent reddish gleam.

Darakor had descended down a spiral staircase from the ledge they were on to the main floor. He crossed the room easily, slowing only to life Cirithallion from the altar. A figure came out from a deeper tunnel, led by two light elven soldiers. Kelnozz gasped audibly when he saw who it was. Jethallin walked between them, seemingly oblivious to the world. Kelnozz began working at his manacles again, using his great strength to try and force them apart. The elven guardsmen near him exchanged smirks at his movements. No matter what the legends said of Kelnozz, no elf was stronger then iron.

Jethallin was led before the altar and gently positioned so that she was kneeling, facing it on the opposite side of Kelnozz. The priest moved closer to her and raised the pendant above her head. Darakor moved closer as well, the sword held reverently in his hands. Jethallin's eyes raised up, her gaze still vacant, but without hesitation it shifted until she stared directly at Kelnozz.

Kelnozz felt himself stunned as he stared at her. Her empty gaze rocked him to the core. He shuddered as he remembered her all to well back in her grove, centuries past, like it had only just happened. Kelnozz growled and flexed his arms again against the chains that bound him. Jethallin's eyes seemed to clear then, and she focused on him. She smiled sadly as the pendant was lowered over her head and rested upon her neck. She gasped and arched her back.

Other items on the altar were placed on her quickly, each item adorning her in some fashion. From bracelets and rings to a tiara and a gauntlet. In moments she was clad in a simple white robe and elaborately wrought jewelry that glowed with an infernal red light. Kelnozz continued to struggle, certain he could feel the iron beginning to give way.

Darakor stepped forward at a signal from the priest. The low chanting in the room reached a crescendo as Darakor raised the sword above his head in a two handed grip, point downward. Kelnozz gasped. Jethallin continued to stare at him, a sad look upon her face but a happy look in her eyes for him and him alone. The sword plunged downward then, driven by Darakor's two handed grip.

Kelnozz roared. The iron manacles, forged thickly with the intent of holding any prisoner Mezarbolle might see, were not of a temper to hold back the might of one who had journeyed with Gods and knew their favors. They snapped apart in the middle, leaving him with an iron bracelet on each wrist. The elite guardsmen were stunned at the display of strength, strength greater then they thought possible for anything short of an ogre.

Kelnozz turned to the one on his left and grabbed him by the throat, crushing it instantly and ruining the elf's life even if his consciousness had not yet fled him. His other hand grabbed the soldier's weapon belt. In a matter of only a couple of seconds since he had broken his bonds he picked the elf up and threw him off the ledge and into the ritual below. The other elf was drawing his sword then, but never had a chance to finish. Kelnozz spun on him and sent one clenched fist crashing into the elf's face. The elf staggered backwards, nose an cheek broken and several teeth missing. Kelnozz followed, lashing out again and again until the elf slumped to the ground beaten to death and beyond.

Kelnozz turned back, seeing at least two feet of Cirithallion plunged into Jethallin's chest. Her head was thrown back as she tried to scream in anguish. Instead of a scream an impossible amount of red smoke billowed out of her mouth, forming into a cloud above her and slowly taking shape. Kelnozz ground his teeth and looked around. The stair case was easily 30 feet away, and the floor was perhaps 40 feet beneath him. He prepared to leap when the last of the smoke issued from Jethallin's mouth. She slumped to the ground, Cirithallion sliding wetly out of her chest. The cloud continued to take shape, billowing into the spectral shape of a glittering red dragon with glowing red eyes. On the floor beneath him several soldiers and priests were gesturing at him and at each other. Kelnozz ignored them, he refused to let them hinder him.

Kelnozz spun back to the dead elf and retrieved the dagger from his belt. In a flash he was gone, melting into the shadows and slipping away from the altar. Darakor needed to die, but he knew that now was not the time to do it. As much as his thirst for vengeance fueled him, his father's son remembered his duties to his people. Ancaruin was risen, he had to warn them all, no matter the pain it would cost him. But first he had to find his equipment, or escape would be all but impossible. Fortunately, Kelnozz thought he knew where they might be.

*****

Darakor looked up and fell to his knees, overcome with awe at the immense ghostly figure above them all. Made purely of glowing red mist, a dragon larger than anything he had counted possible was staring directly at him. No, not at him but rather into him.

"Darakor Kinslayer," The dragon said in a voice that was at the same time deep and terrible to hear, yet also quiet and hinting at secrets and power best left undreamed of.

"No," he whispered. "My name is not Kinslayer, it is Risingmoon."

Ancaruin's essence regarded him silently for a brief moment. "You have done well," The drake replied. "Ready my armies, with my foes scattered and Sanctuary destroyed, the dwarves, elves, and humans will be as cattle to me. The elves will die first!"

Chapter 24

Eric and Bill moved among the refugees and few surviving defenders, checking on them and treating any injuries they found with their triaging knowledge they still remembered. Bill was better at it then Eric, having kept up to date by nature of his still somewhat reckless lifestyle. Both were limited by the lack of any modern medicine, but their skills kept everyone alive until one of the priests could make their way over to use their healing magic upon them.

Alesha and Yamara sat elsewhere, Alesha was withdrawn and silent. Elvanshalee was nearby, close enough to be considered part of their group by any outsiders, but far enough away to allow them privacy. With both women silent and lost in their own thoughts, Elvanshalee found herself truly not knowing what to do. Kelnozz was gone, Garrick had been left behind meaning he might be dead as well, and the rest of them had no idea what to do. Well, Garrick had told them to go to Helmsmasher Isle, but she had no idea why.

With blood on his hands, Eric made his way back over to where Alesha and Yamara sat. He stood near them, sensing the tension in the air. Knowing that something needed to be said to break the ice, Eric said, "I've seen him fight, he might have gotten away."

Alesha looked up at him angrily. Yamara looked at him as though he was crazy. "No one escapes something like that," Alesha said coldly. "Not you, not me, not even Kelnozz. Garrick would have fallen against foes like that!"

"Then you did right to come with us and escape," Eric offered, prodding her to get her to release her anger on him. He normally did a good job at provoking women for this specific purpose, to get them open up and tell him their problems. Problem was, Alesha was no ordinary woman. If she got upset enough she might very well immolate him where he stood. Then again, being good at pissing women off was not always a benefit.

Alesha glanced up at him, the look in her eyes spearing him to the core. She was so angry it scared him. "Go away, Eric, I am not in the mood to talk."

Realizing that he had pushed a little to far he just nodded and turned away. On his way out he grabbed Bill by the arm and turned him around as well. "Later bud, she's in a bad way right now." Bill risked a glance at Alesha then shrugged and followed Eric.

They wandered out into the nearby wilderness, patrolling the perimeter of the makeshift camp that the refugees from Sanctuary had set up in the middle of nowhere as much as just going for a walk to get some fresh air.

"Did you see him slap her?" Bill asked when they were far out of earshot. "Fucker pissed me off when he did that! Good thing I was out of bullets or I'd have shot him dead then and there."

"Be glad you didn't, Cowboy. He'd have probably killed you. That guy is the biggest and the strongest person I have ever seen. When he visited Earth with Kelnozz I heard the story from a girl that was with them when he got shot by some punks in the IRA. He never even knew he was hit until after he had killed the man with his bare hands."

Bill snorted. "Big fucking deal, you know as well as I do that in the middle of a fight you can miss a hit."

Eric nodded. "Yeah, but you've seen the guy. Hell, you saw his wounds healing before your eyes. That ain't no man you want to mess with, Cowboy."

Bill grunted and continued walking. "So she's upset then?" He asked finally, dropping the subject of Garrick.

Eric chuckled. "That's an understatement. You know the saying, 'if looks could kill'? Well, her's can! I think I barely got out of there in time."

Bill whistled softly. "I've seen her in action now, she's one bad bitch."

"No argument here."

"Something about her though... I think she's got me bro."

Eric sighed and stopped walking. "Cowboy..."

"I know, I know, she ain't normal. Hell, she ain't nothing like any women I've ever known. But now that Kelnozz is dead..."

"Wait right there," Eric said, holding up his hand. "We don't know that for sure."

"Jesus Fucking Christ Eric! Come on, those things were straight out of a Sigourney Weaver horror flick! There were hundreds of them and they had him surrounded! No way he could get out of their, even if he did kill the big bad ass in charge of them like it was nothing," Bill said, waving his hands animatedly.

"I've heard stories about him," Eric said, not ready to give up on the dark elf, "and I've seen some of the things he has done. Hardly any, really, but enough to know that I'm not counting him gone until I see his body."

Bill shook his head, "Those things get done with him, there won't be a body left."

Eric pursed his lips and continued walking, refusing to count the elf out of the fight yet. Bill caught up with him after a few strides.

"So what about you and the blond?" Bill asked, grinning.

Eric chuckled. "Hell if I know. She's pretty weird. Not weird - bad, just weird - different."

"From what you said you had more going on with her before we came here then since we showed up," Bill prompted.

Eric shrugged. "Yeah, but we've been kinda busy since we got here. She told me she wasn't interested, and there's been enough going on I've left her alone. Besides, she seems to be dealing with some of her own shit. You know, baggage and stuff."

"Yeah, the best looking ones always are," Bill lamented, thinking of Alesha again.

*****

Alesha stood up after a while and walked off. Yamara stood up to follow her but Alesha stopped and just shook her head. Elvanshalee watched the exchange curiously, offering no input when Yamara glanced at her. Alesha kept on going, heading towards the tree line at the best of the hill ahead of them.

It was only a matter of minutes before she found Bill and Eric sitting on a rock and talking. Both stood up quickly when they saw her, with Eric narrowing his eyes slightly and saying, "Why are you alone?"

"Because I told them to stay behind."

Alesha looked at Bill. "Cowboy, could you give us a minute?"

Bill looked to Eric for guidance. Eric nodded to him. Not too thrilled to be left out of the loop, Bill grunted and headed back up the hill towards the makeshift camp. After he was out of earshot Eric sat back down on the rock and looked questioningly at her.

"I...I can feel him," she stammered out. "He's everywhere. All around me. Pressing on me. Trying to get in."

At first he thought she meant Kelnozz, but then it quickly became clear that she was talking about Bavorish, her one-time patron deity. Eric's hand itched to go to the hilt of her short sword, afraid he might have to act quickly and really not wanting to do it.

"Such power he promises..." she trailed off, staring at Eric and throughout him at the same time. "We are outside of Sanctuary and after the fight I have so little energy. He prays on my mind."

"I need my sword back, Eric. I must have it!"

Eric's jaw tightened down and he stood up, hand going over his shoulder to the short sword. "I might have given it to you earlier today, but now I don't know who you are, Alesha."

She let out a strangled moan and fought the urge to rush towards him. "You don't understand... Such power... So close. I have to do something, Eric, please!"

"We've been together for several days now and I happen to have started to think you might be okay," Eric warned. "I don't want to kill you, Alesha, but I will."

Alesha scowled at him. "Fine. Make up your mind then. Either give me my sword or kill me. I can offer you so much if you give it to me, I can even help you with her." Eric's eyes widened, he knew which her Alesha was referring to. "Or you can be stupid and try to kill me. I promise you it will not be an easy thing to do!"

"You leave me no choice," Eric said, his heart slowing as the calm that always hit him before a fight took over. He drew the short sword slowly from it's sheath on his back and held it in front of him, pointed at her in a stance Yamara had shown him.

Alesha gasped as the sword was bared. She swooned then fell to her knees, eyes locked on it. The promises, threats, and urges had intensified a hundredfold. She reached out towards it, her hand shaking in the air. Fighting the losing war within her, she summoned the sword to her side. Eric gasped as it wrenched out his hand, flying straight to hers.

*****

"Where's your friend?" Yamara asked when Bill returned by himself.

Bill grunted, clearly annoyed. Not only annoyed but he also noted that Yamara had called Eric 'his friend' instead of by his name. "Down there with her," he said with a nod towards the deciduous trees at the base of the hill.

Yamara smirked. The loss of Sanctuary meant little to her. The death of Kelnozz, even of Garrick, were remote things she care little about. She had been focusing more and more on herself recently, and had been surprised at her actions in Sanctuary. Regardless, they were all safe now, so it had worked out well.

What amused her was Bill's behavior. He was obviously Jealous, something she recognized well. "You need not worry about him."

Bill looked at her oddly for a moment then started to laugh. "Oh, I'm not," he said. "Eric and I go way back. I'm just worried about Alesha is all."

"Why are you worried about her?" Elvanshalee asked, moving closer. "If the legends are true, you should worry about yourselves far more then her."

Bill looked over at her thoughtfully. "I think I see why nobody really likes you," Bill said with a ghost of a grin.

Yamara's eyebrows raised but kept her own smile from her face. Elvanshalee was a pretentious bitch. Elvanshalee gave him a look of blank surprise. "I apologize then, Bill. I often forget that you are all humans and not given to understanding the greater story."

"No need to apologize," Yamara answered for him. "We are rather fond of being humans."

Bill looked at her and nodded thankfully. She returned his nod while Elvanshalee frowned slightly at the exchange. She made a harrumphing noise in her throat and walked away.

Bill sighed and looked across the hilltop full of refugees. Across the top and side of the grassy hill over a thousand people were gathered. He estimated they took up several acres. So far he had no idea where they were at either, but then again, had somebody told him it would have done him little good as he had no idea where anything was anyhow!

"What about you?" Bill asked, glancing over to Yamara, who was staring over the treetops to the east.

Yamara continued to scan the horizon, seemingly without purpose. "What about me?" she asked after so long Bill had thought she had not heard him.

"Shit," Bill swore, looking at her directly. "You know what I mean. What's your deal with Eric."

"Ah, that."

Bill waited while Yamara pondered the question, her thoughts and feelings, and how much, if any, she wanted to divulge. She and Bill had crossed swords at almost every exchange, how much power did she wish to give him?

"Nothing, Cowboy, there is no 'deal' with Eric. He was a means to an end and a good time at that. Now he is a companion, nothing more."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure, but I think that's the first time you've called me Cowboy. Does that mean we're friends?"

She chuckled. "You caught me off guard, I'll try not to let it happen again."

"Good idea," Bill said with a grin.

Yamara opened her mouth to say more when they heard the report of a single pistol shot going off down below where Bill had left Eric and Alesha. As one they looked to each other then were running down the hill heedless to their own safety.

*****

Stunned for a moment, Eric had watched the sword fly to its rightful Mistress. In her hands she stared at it with a grim satisfaction. Coming to his senses, Eric scrambled for his pistol with one hand and dug his hand into a pouch on his belt with the other hand. He pulled out a single copper jacketed hollow point .50 caliber bullet and, after working the action on the pistol open, slid it in. He thumbed the release and felt the action slide home, seating the bullet.

Alesha held the sword out in front of her, staring into space where the tip pointed. A dark nimbus of non-light spread slowly out from the midnight depths of the blade, casting a shadow about it. Then an invisible discharge of energy caused Alesha's hand to recoil. Standing ten feet from her stood Talifernon, the 12 foot tall demon with the head and face of a dog and body of a man. Save for the extra pair of full size arms low on his abdomen with sharp pincers for hands.

Eric's eyes widened as he saw the demon appear. He pointed the gun at it and pulled the hammer back, wondering if it was possible to do any good against it. He aimed for it's head, then it's chest, wondering which would be a killing shot.

Talifernon howled in exultation. He was free again. "My thanks, Mistress," He growled, dropping to one knee and facing her.

Eric knew what he had to do then. His own life was forfeit, but if he could stop Alesha it would at least not go to waste. He swung the gun towards her and fired, shooting on instinct. Talifernon had already seen his movement and moved to confront him, he had no time to waste. The pistol bucked in his hands, sending its 300 grain package on its way at over 1600 feet per second.

Alesha stumbled backwards and crumpled to the ground, stunned not only by the initial impact of the bullet into her right breast, but also the extra damage it did on its way through as the round expanded and caused massive damage to her lung and stomach. The bullet exited her back, punching a sizeable hole and shattering some ribs. In a world filled with modern medicine the wound was more then life threatening, it was a miracle short of a guaranteed free ride into a six foot hole. In Viconia, it was so fatal that only death by a cattle stampede could be more certain.

"You will not escape me again, puny human!" Talifernon growled, advancing on Eric rapidly. Eric scrambled back, tossing his pistol to the ground and drawing his sword.

Alesha gasped for breath. The shock of the wound was beginning to wear off and the unbelievably fierce pain hit her. Her time was short, but for the first time since leaving Sanctuary her head was clear. Her course was clear. She knew what she had to do. She struggled to raise herself up, aware of the blood rushing out of the wound in her back and down her chest.

Eric ducked under the demon's first swing with one of it's arms. He tried to thrust his sword up and into the demon, but was foiled by the demon's foot that crashed into him, sending him stumbling back. Not too far back, however, for Talifernon had managed to grab onto Eric's right arm with one of his pincers. The twin claws shredded the soft leather he wore and cut into his skin deeply.

Suffering broken ribs from the kick and a mangled arm caught in a vice-like grip, Eric groaned. He raised his saber and weakly stabbed out, not surprised in the least when Talifernon smashed the sword aside and out of his hand with one of his mighty fists. The other pincer closed around Eric's chest and bit cruelly and mercilessly into him. He felt himself lifted into the air but knew in a short time he would care no longer.

"Put him down!"

Talifernon paused, turning to look back at his dying Mistress. He saw the wound and knew her life would be over shortly. He snarled, but tossed Eric aside, making sure he crashed into a sizeable tree trunk before he hit the ground. If he survived, Talifernon knew he would only have a matter of minutes to wait before he could finish him off.

"You are dying, Mistress," Talifernon stated. Alesha looked at him coldly. Hatefully. Vengefully.

Instead of speaking, Alesha focused all of her remaining strength on raising her arm and enveloping the demon with her magic. She reached out around her and drained what life she could from the trees, grasses, and very ground beneath her. She had little power left to her, but that did not matter. What mattered was that she had enough to destroy her pet demon.

Talifernon roared. Raw magic, powered by hate and outrage, coated him. Alesha poured all of herself into her magic, immolating Talifernon with her magical fires. She lifted him off of the ground with the energy streaming out of her hand. Her other hand she clasped to the hole in her breast, trying to stem the flow of her lifeblood just long enough to see her course through to its bitter end.

Yamara and Bill stumbled onto the scene and stopped, watching in shock. Elvanshalee was several strides behind, but she made it in time to see Talifernon howling in agony as the fires ripped his flesh free from his bones. Around them all the forest withered. It shrank in upon itself in their vicinity, bark peeling from the trees and bows cracking and breaking. The saplings and sparse grass crumpled into ash.

Bill tried to rush forward, spotting Eric crumpled at the base of a tree, struggling to use his left hand to tie a bloody strip of cloth tightly around his upper right arm. Elvanshalee held him back. "Go no closer! Her magic will suck the life from you."

Bill noticed the surrounding forest for the first time then. To accentuate her statement a large tree close to her cracked loudly and fell slowly away from her. Other trees began to follow, all life and strength drained from them. He looked on helplessly, torn and visibly upset at being unable to do anything.

Talifernon's howls had been lessening. He gave a final cross between a whimper and growl. The magic overwhelmed him and he was hidden behind a fiery sheath of energy. Soundlessly, he exploded, overcome by Alesha's power. In the sudden silence that followed Alesha let her arm fall to the ground. She looked on for a moment, her strength spent. She smiled and relaxed, her body collapsing back to the ground.

Bill rushed to her, ignoring Elvanshalee's warnings. He hurried to Alesha's side, falling on the ground beside her and cradling her head in his hands. Bubbles of blood weakly formed at her lips and ran from her nose.

"Alesha, don't fall asleep!" Bill ordered her. "You can work miracles, heal yourself!"

Her eyes flickered open, glazed and unseeing. Bill shook her gently, speaking her name again. Her gaze strengthened briefly and she opened her mouth to speak. A weak coughing fit seized her, but her strength was such that it did not last long.

"Not strong 'nuff," she mouthed.

Bill looked over to Eric, who waved weakly to him. Satisfied that Eric was going to be okay, Bill bent back down to Alesha. "I've seen what you can do," he said to her. "Take what you need from me."

Alesha looked up at him. She was so very tired and it was so unfair for him to ask anything of her. She had finally beat Him. She had destroyed Talifernon and in doing so had beaten Bavorish. It was time for her to go and try to find Kelnozz in whatever afterlife Viconia offered.

Alesha's eyes began to close again. Bill shook her more fiercely, demanding of her that she wake. Yamara knelt beside them and stared at her for a moment. Then she looked up at Bill and judged him carefully for long precious seconds.

"Blood," Yamara said softly to him. "She needs your blood Bill, if you would bring her back let her drink of you."

Bill looked at Yamara, his eyes wide with fright. He glanced back down at Yamara and saw how shallow her breathing was. How glazed over and nearly closed her eyes were. How slack her face was growing. With no further thought to it he laid her head on the ground and yanked his K-Bar from his belt and slashed deeply across his wrist. He gave no thought to the pain or the consequences, only of his hope to bring her back. He pressed his wrist against her slack lips, letting the gently spurting liquid fill her mouth and mingle with her own.

Alesha felt the warmth. She felt it and felt her consciousness drawn towards it. She fought against it, trying to let the darkness that had nearly claimed her take her away from it all. She wanted to sleep, damn it! But the call of Bill's need spoke to her. She felt more then his offering of life to her, she felt his confused but powerful emotions pushing at her. Pulling at her. Keeping her from escaping. She latched on to his wrist and pulled on it, drinking deeply and ignoring the burning in her throat and in her chest.

Bill looked up at Yamara, surprised and frightened anew when Alesha clung to his wrist with her lips. Then her arms raised slowly and grasped him, holding him to her. She sucked more strongly, pulling his blood from him. He gasped at the burning sensation that shot up his arm, making him swoon dizzily. Her strength increased as rapidly as his began to fade.

Seeing Alesha's bleeding lessen and then stop, Yamara backed away hurriedly. She believed fully now that Alesha was on their side, but the memories the necromancy recalled in her chilled her to the bone. Brina had been turned into an undead beast forced to exist as Alesha was currently reviving herself, and many night time horrors in the city of her birth had preyed upon earthly victims in similar gruesome manners. She shivered and walked over to where Eric lay against the base of the tree.

Alone among the trees for over 20 yards in any direction, the tree Eric had unknowingly used to stop his demon induced flight was in full health. Elsewhere the vegetation was dried, cracked, and dead. Eric watched her approach, breathing shallowly and holding his badly lacerated arm with his other one. He too had blood running from his mouth and his nose.

Yamara took one look at him as she got closer and felt something on the verge of snapping within her. There was an icy hollow pit forming in her stomach. She hardened herself and took a deep breath. She had to continue on and she knew it. To turn back would mean admitting to the thing that she was struggling to ignore and overcome.

"How are you?" Yamara asked rhetorically as she stood in front of him.

Eric coughed, sending spasms of pain through his face. He grinned fiercely in spite of it. "You know how I am, Yamara."

Yamara nodded. His hips and legs lay at an unnatural angle to the rest of his body. His chest was slightly misshapen, and his arm leaked too much blood to recover from without immediate aid. Yamara looked away quickly, then cursed herself and looked back at him, her eyes unfathomable.

"She took the sword from me," Eric said, looking past Yamara's legs towards where Alesha lay. "I had to act. I saw the look in her eyes. I knew what had happened to her."

Yamara nodded. On a sudden whim that surprised her, she found herself kneeling quickly beside him and taking the strip of leather he had cut and torn from his sleeve and quickly tied it around his upper arm. She tugged roughly on it, making it as tight as possible to stem the flow of bleeding. She finished but stayed on her knees, looking at him.

"That should buy you a few more minutes," she said, her voice rougher then usual.

Eric smiled again. "Not sure if I should thank you for that or not," he whispered. Deep breaths hurt. Talking hurt. Coughing... well, coughing made him wish he was dead. Too many times he had known the joys of broken ribs in his life. "But thanks anyhow."

Yamara smiled. The man had courage, she could not fault him for that. To have faced Alesha down at such a critical moment was momentous. To have continued to face her in light of her demon attacking him gave more credence to him.

Eric weakly opened his hand and inched it towards her. Yamara raised her hand and started to reach it out towards him. She caught herself and let it drop before it reached him. Eric reached out with his and caught hers before she pulled it back. He held on to it lightly, looking at her. She took a nervous breath and let him.

"Humor me, I'm dying."

Yamara looked him in the eyes for a long moment then nodded. She could not help but wonder if Evart's final moments would have been similar. She clenched her teeth and fought an internal battle, refusing to succumb to the memories and feelings that battered at the gate to her mind's castle.

The sound of a twig snapping got Yamara's attention. She spun around and saw Alesha standing there. A further twist of her neck and she saw Bill lying on the ground. Surprisingly to her, he was not dead. Very pale and sickly looking, but still alive. She looked at Alesha anew and noticed that Alesha looked awfully sick and pale herself.

Eric clenched Yamara's hand tightly, suddenly afraid. He had seen Alesha turn. He knew she had been lost for a moment. Knew it in his heart and in his bones. But then Alesha had surprised him. She had destroyed Talifernon as he came for him. Had called him off of him, in fact, and then destroyed him. He did not know what to make of her and because of that he was frightened of her. He knew what she was capable of and death was no escape from her.

Alesha stopped when she finally reached them. She towered over the two, looking wan and deadly. Then she swooned and might have fallen had she not reached out to put an arm on the tree that had broken Eric's back. Eric and Yamara remained silent, waiting.

"I..." Alesha began then trailed off, tears coming to her eyes. She squared her shoulders after a second and tried again. "I'm sorry, Eric. I have nothing left in me to heal you. I can take away the pain, but that's all."

Eric narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. Finally he shook his head, sending a spasm of pain through his neck and back until it reached the point where he felt nothing. "Without the pain I might not know I am still alive," he whispered.

Alesha nodded, fresh tears running down her face. She carefully lowered herself until she was kneeling beside Yamara.

"How is Bill?" Eric asked her, glancing over at his friend.

Alesha smiled while Yamara looked at him in amazement. Here he was taunting the reaper with each ragged breath and he was concerned about somebody else? Yamara shook her head in amazement at the similarity he kept reminding her of.

"He will be okay," Alesha said, her voice soft and caring. "He pulled me back and saved me. He would have given his life to save mine, but I could not let him. Just as you gave yours to try and save everyone else. He saved my life, you saved my soul."

"Nothing personal," Eric said, his whispers becoming slurred as spots began to dance in his vision. "just doing our jobs is all."

Fresh tears spilled from Alesha, running down her cheeks and dripping onto his arm. He showed no evidence of being aware of the hot liquid drops landing on him. He looked over at Yamara and smiled sleepily, his eyelids growing heavy. "It doesn't hurt anymore, I guess that means it's almost over."

The barbarians at the gates within her had finally brought a battering ram. Yamara felt the wall within her snap. The rushing waters caught her up and carried her with them, terrifying her with their unfamiliar feelings. She fought for breath and opened her mouth to speak. "No!" She spoke loudly and forcefully. Only barely noticed by her the ruby pendant on her chest seemed to flare with an inner warmth against the cool skin of her breasts.

Alesha looked at her, surprised. Eric wondered idly what she was on about now. Such an odd woman, he wished he would have had a chance to get to know her better.

"Don't let him die!" Yamara demanded, looking at him. "Use me if you have to... like you used Bill."

Alesha sighed. She was still so tired and what Yamara asked - no, demanded - would tax her severely. She was never very good at healing others, only hurting them. But she did owe Eric. Owed him more then anybody else, she supposed.

She put her hand on top of Yamara's and Eric's and closed her eyes, trying to will the power that she did not have to give one last spurt of energy. Unseen under her shirt, Yamara's amulet began to glow softly.

Chapter 25

Garrick had swung his hammer tirelessly, sending demons and orcs flying from him with every strike. He had waded through them, easily blocking or avoiding the more lethal attacks launched at him, ignoring the lesser attacks. Each scratch or bruise healed in moments, serving only to irritate him as he strove to reach his besieged friend.

In the end, the sheer numbers had prevented him from reaching Kelnozz in time. The dark elf was gone when he reached the spot he had fought from. Dragged away by the superior numbers. In his place was the slain bodies of countless enemies. Garrick had surveyed the scene briefly, challenging any of the attackers to come at him. Few had dared, adding to the pile of corpses.

Luingirth swooped down time and again, shredding and incinerating countless members of Darakor's army with each pass. Now they retreated, returning whence they came. Garrick gave chase at first, pounding any that he encountered into the ground. Soon he gave up, knowing that Kelnozz was gone.

Luingirth and Garrick had left then, searching about the countryside but finding nothing other then scattered bands of orcs retreating towards the Periphery and the Lost Lands beyond. Cursing none to quietly, Garrick knew where Kelnozz lay. Without being told, Luingirth adjusted his course, flying to the north and the west. Garrick regarded their heading solemnly.

Ahead lay, many leagues away still, lay Mezarbolle. The highest peak to the north and east of the city was a semi dormant volcanic peak, once the lair of Ancaruin. It was there, in what had been known as Dragon Mountain to the temporary occupation force, that Garrick and Luingirth would find Kelnozz. The question that plagued Garrick's mind was not if they could battle their way into the impregnable fortress, but whether or not once they did if they would find Kelnozz alive or dead.

"Fly, you scaly old wyrm, fly!" Garrick encouraged.

Luingirth's eyes narrowed at the insult, but other then that he ignored it. Much as he might hate to admit it, no living being mattered more to him then Kelnozz, they had been together all of their lives, inseparable for the first several hundred, in fact. Luingirth put what extra strength he dared muster into his wings, flying as swiftly as only he could.

Garrick shuddered and groaned on Luingirth's back, slumping in sudden surprise at the sensations rushing through him. Luingirth slowed, twisting his serpentine neck so that his head could look back on the former God of War. Garrick straightened up after a moment and saw the dragon regarding him with what he knew to be equal parts concern and annoyance.

"The law of death has been broken," Garrick decreed. "Ancaruin is risen."

Luingirth swung his head back around and quickly spiraled down to land atop a flat spot atop one of the border hills leading to the Periphery. Once safely on the ground Luingirth again swiveled his head around to behold the mountain of a man on his back.

"What of Kelnozz?"

Garrick shook his head. "I don't know."

Luingirth looked back to the northwest, using his heritage to see farther then the sharpest eyed eagle. Garrick stared that way as well, quiet and thoughtful. Quickly he reached the decision he needed to reach.

"Take us to Helmsmasher Isle, old friend," Garrick said, having reached a decision he did not care much for. "Whether Kelnozz is alive or dead, we can do nothing for him with Ancaruin arisen."

Luingirth stared in the distance for a long moment, seeing things no one else could see. "He yet lives."

"Nothing we can do about that, dragon. He's a sneaky bastard, if he can get out, he will."

Luingirth glanced back at Garrick, clearly undecided in his course of action. "He shall not be abandoned," the dragon growled.

"Go then!" Garrick snapped. "Waste your life and see the two of you die you stupid wyrm! There is more at stake here then you realize, Luingirth. Come with me to Helmsmasher Isle and we will go after him. He will be avenged, if naught else."

Luingirth snorted, dry air charged with static electricity washed over Garrick. Luingirth bristled angrily. For anyone else, to challenge and insult any dragon, let alone one as ancient and powerful as Luingirth, was madness in the extreme. For Garrick it was a daily affair, though his patience was running thin. "Look, if you take me there you'll have a chance to capture Alesha or that light elf wench or some other maiden."

Luingirth glared at him more fiercely. Then he glanced back briefly in the direction his friend and companion had been taken. He turned away from it with a hollow pang in his immense chest. "Let us be off."

"Ha! Now you're talking!" Garrick said, clapping the dragon on the back with his muscle-bound arm.

Chapter 26

Outside of the den of corruption and darkness that again served as Ancaruin's lair, Kelnozz paused to survey the landscape. He was high on the eastern face of the mountain, overlooking Mezarbolle a few miles to the southeast, and to the northeast, the Everthirst, an inland sea with such a heavy salt content that only the hardiest of creatures survived in it.

Far beyond the reaches of his vision, hidden within the middle of the Everthirst lay the Isle of the Gods. Elvish folklore told of an immense castle wrought of pure adamantium and within it each God of Viconia ruled a section so large that the whole of the Everthirst could not contain it, proof of it's divine existence.

At the moment, Kelnozz cared little for elvish folklore, the home of the Gods, or how filled with brine the Everthirst was. Ancaruin was returned to life, the first ever to do so on Viconia, yet he gave that no concern either. He gave thought only to the single fire that burned fiercely within him. Darakor. His enemy. The light elf whom he would slay. No rest nor peace would Kelnozz know until he achieved that goal. Seeing Jethallin again had pained him, for he had thought her long lost. It reminded him of an oath he had taken after Alesha had fallen to Bavorish's influence. The oath to let no one close to him until he could guarantee their safety. Jethallin had come along and been taken before that oath, but it still twisted something inside of Kelnozz. To know that she had suffered for so long at Narellin's hands burned him. To know that Darakor, his son, had slain her, his own mother, to further his own lust for power, fanned the flames of rage into an inferno.

He had even heard the words the treacherous elf had spoken. He had given Ancaruin his name. Darakor Risingmoon. His son.

Kelnozz was tempted to head back in through the narrow air shaft he had scaled to climb out. Sneak back in and finish the bastard off where he had started. He hesitated, poised on the brink of slipping back in, no thought or concern for his own safety in his mind. Kelnozz paused long enough that another thought came to his mind. Not one of caution or concern, but rather one of common sense. He had escaped, surely Darakor's guards would search for him. Skilled as he was, if he returned he would most likely never make it to Darakor. To achieve his goal he must escape first, then return. And, as always, he must warn the elves of Ancaruin, or his father's memory would be meaningless to him.

To that end Kelnozz heard a noise far below. Down the nearly vertical rock face more then 70 feet was the main tunnel entrance into the mountain. From it issued forth patrols of light elves, orcs, and robed figures Kelnozz did not recognize. They fanned out, searching the mountain and the surrounding lands. Kelnozz smiled bitterly. He had found his equipment in the same room that, long ago, Ancaruin had offered Alesha and later Narellin as a private study and a place to stay when they visited the dragon. Two additional elite light elven guardsmen lay dead outside the door, but inside he had found the items he sought. He had one final surprise left in his bag of tricks, a surprise that Darakor had never known about for he had never witnessed or understood it's use.

Kelnozz took a small ring out from his pouch. It was the ring that normally remained hidden upon his toe. It served a single purpose, to return him to Innowendyn. He had last used it 500 years past, ere Ancaruin had been defeated but not destroyed. It fit upon his finger naturally, magically sizing itself. He cast a last hateful glance at the mountain and then muttered the magical word that activated the ring. With no snap of impacting air, no burst of light, no puff of smoke, and no sign of transition, Kelnozz was gone. Gone from Dragon Mountain and gone from the Lost Lands.

*****

Kelnozz appeared on the small grassy hill surrounded by a garden that was carefully tended. Yet, in spite of the skill of the gardener, it lacked it's former luster. Gone was the vitality and the shine that it had under Farathallion's care, so many years past.

In apparent sync with Kelnozz's mood, the skies were overcast and dreary. A warm rain fell, watering the garden and the surrounding lands and raising the overall humidity of the tropical island. Island was a misnomer, really, for Innowendyn was many leagues across, large enough to be a continent by itself.

Long ago, banished from Viconia by the light elves and evil dragons, what remained of the glory of the once unified elven peoples had begun a great exodus. They had followed a chain of islands largely unvisited by other Belurians. Even now, 5000 years later, it was primarily elven merchant ships that crossed the seas to Belurian, the islands of the Chachopeyan Empire, or the great dwarven kingdom spread amongst 3 islands. On those many islands native peoples already lived, from a fiercely proud dwarven kingdom to tribes and cities of more savage humans. A small grouping of islands even supported a tribe of Halflings that shared nothing save their height and barely their body style from their Belurian cousins; they were primitive cannibals.

On the elves sailed, heading to the south and the east where no hope of discovering land lay. Eventually they came upon the tropical Innowendyn, a land hundreds of leagues across in any direction. It was filled with a savage beauty, populated only by animals and beings of nature, so they thought.

The elves had built their new capitol, Loralost, in the middle of the island amongst a tropical paradise. They built the city seeking to reclaim much of their lost art and glory, delving deep into the earth for marble and precious metals in a manner that would have made a dwarf proud. In the end they had delved too deeply from a rift in the earth caused by they knew not what. They opened a rift of a different sort, uncovering a portal made of a strange metal. A machine forgotten by time itself. With its unearthing, it awoke from its ageless slumber, bridging the distance between Viconia and a deeper, darker place. The miners had slain quickly as the demons within boiled forth.

It was too soon for the dark elves to engage in another war. Their might was still depleted from the Kinslayer War and was centuries away from recovering. But fight they must, for extinction was their only option.

Kelnozz remembered the time darkly. It had been his first test. The heir of Myragordamar, champion of the elves, the Queen had looked to him to lead them. And so he had. From Luingirth's back they had warred against the demons who's numbers seemed to have no end. Many more elves had fallen, slain by the nightmare host.

In the end Kelnozz and Luingirth had been separated. It was known that at all times they were together wreaking havoc on the demonic army whenever they appeared. Thus it was that Luingirth alone flew through the skies, much younger and less powerful then, but still a great threat. The demons focused on him, sending their flyers at him and using what magics they had. Kelnozz slipped through their ranks as quickly and stealthily as he could, coming upon the Demon King, Helanduril.

It had been a mighty battle, Kelnozz's first true test of strength and skill at arms. In the end he had won, drawing a hateful surrender from Helanduril and banishing the demonic host back through the portal whence it came. The strange machine had then been destroyed, forever sundering the bridge between worlds, or so Kelnozz had thought. That Helanduril had been leading the assault on Sanctuary spoke of another rift, another connection between worlds. And worse, an alliance with Darakor.

Kelnozz scowled and set off, heading from the Risingmoon estates towards the palace. He had no time nor interest in the Elven Council. They, as always, would talk about things and take too long to respond. He needed direct action. He needed to see the queen.

Kelnozz entered the palace directly, none daring to step him from the fell look upon his face. All who served knew him and knew of him, though none knew him well. If such a thing was possible, to approach and confront the queen directly and without her permission, it was Kelnozz who could do it.

Unfortunately for Kelnozz, the Queen was in neither her chambers nor her thrown room. Cornering a guard he demanded her location, which the guard readily surrendered to him for fear of his wrath. It was ironic, and it served only to fuel his anger and irritation. The queen was meeting with her councilors.

Kelnozz burst into the council room, startling all of them. They looked at him, clearly surprised at not only his sudden entrance, but also by his appearance. His hair was unkempt and he was very dirty. Hardly fitting for an audience with their august body.

"My wayward nephew returns," Queen Galinia said with a tight smile. She was the first to react to his intrusion. That she disapproved was clear in her tone and her manner, but she knew she could not openly deny him his right.

"Ancaruin is risen," Kelnozz stated, glaring about the council as if daring any of them to refute him. "And Narellin Kinslayer is no longer."

Immediately a susurration of voices began as they began to talk to each other and themselves. Kelnozz knew how to make an entrance. The Queen finally gained their silence by raising her hand from where she sat at the middle of the crescent shaped table. In her eyes shone the glimmer of tears.

"You slew him?" she asked, nearly whispering. Whatever faults the queen might have, as all royalty did, loyalty had not been one of them. With her husband the King dead some five thousand years she refused to court anyone again, for her love had been fully given to him and what remained had gone to their son, Marthollin. Marthollin was now also slain, killed by Tiamat in the battle that allowed the metallic dragons to return to Viconia.

"The man who took your King from you is gone," Kelnozz said again. "But it was not by my hand that this happened."

"Then who? And how do you know?" she asked again, the tears of the remembered pain threatening to spill down her face.

Kelnozz closed his eyes for a moment and clenched his fists angrily. His ebony skinned knuckles shown white before he opened them and stared at her fiercely. "My son killed him."

Another burst of hushed whispers went around the table at the proclamation. Some wild haired sooth-sayer that was said to be touched by the Gods had long ago prophesied that Kelnozz would be slain by none other then his own son. None knew whether to believe it or not, but it certainly made for some interesting rumors.

The Queen's own hand flew to her now open mouth. "You have a son? Who is he? When did this happen?"

"His name is Darakor," Kelnozz said tightly. "He was born shortly after Ancaruin fell and was raised by Narellin himself as his own. He has abandoned the name of Kinslayer and adopted my own name."

"Why do you speak so harshly, nephew? You have a family and a heir at long last! Rejoice in it!" The Queen said, letting her tears fall. She was saddened but also happy. Her husband's lineage was over, but the family he came from would continue.

"I will not rest until he is dead by my hand!"

The Queen and the council grew deathly quiet at his vehement oath. He stared angrily at each of them in turn. The Queen alone dared speak to him. "Put aside your wrathful mien, Kelnozz, you are among friends. Tell us of this Darakor, what could any son do to bring about such hatred in a father?"

"Treachery, oh Queen. Treachery not seen since the days when my father's and my father's brother's blood was spilt. Ancaruin is again on this world because of Darakor. He took Cirithallion from me when I had it in my grasp and betrayed me in doing so. Then he arranged for Helanduril's host to destroy Sanctuary, finding the missing piece of Ancaruin's spirit."

Kelnozz spat the words out one at a time as though he could cause pain with them to counter the pain he felt. The council and queen reacted as he expected they would at the mention of Helanduril. Some of them were old enough to remember the war between the elves and the demons. Others had only heard stories but knew the elven history well.

"The Demon King is slain by my hand, but his host remains at Darakor's bidding," Kelnozz finished.

"What can we do to help?" Tandethill, the eldest sage on the council, asked earnestly. He had learned a valuable lesson five hundred years past. They all had, but him most importantly. No longer residents of Belurian, the elves had felt they were separate from the troubles there. Kelnozz had reminded them that what fate befell Viconia befall all of them, and Tandethill in particular had taken the lesson to heart.

"Send out the call to arms, War comes again to Viconia," Kelnozz said. "We must sail for Belurian and give battle again.

"Our strength is lessened from the last siege you brought us to, Kelnozz," the Queen said. "The dragons may not aid us this time either, for the debt is paid in full with them."

"They will help or they will perish under the reign of fire Ancaruin will establish. Gather everything that you can, for this time to stand aside and let others do the fighting is a greater risk then death itself," Kelnozz said.

Everyone sat quietly, staring at Kelnozz and thinking to themselves. The Queen looked about and realized that everyone was trying to gauge the impact his decree would have upon them. She stood up, drawing their attention. "Do as he bids, all of you. Kelnozz is more then the heir of Myragordamar Risingmoon and champion of the elves."

Queen Galinia paused and looked at everyone for effect, making eye contact to ensure she had their full attention. "He is also the heir to the throne and his words shall be obeyed as if they were my own!"

Kelnozz looked at her, eyes wide. His fists clenched again and his jaw twitched. How dare she saddle him with the added responsibility. He had no desire for it!

"I will be in my chambers readying myself to go to war," Galinia said, daring anyone to naysay her. She turned and with a flutter of her robes and cape, swiftly walked out of the room.

In a tightly controlled voice that was white hot with fury Kelnozz spoke. "Ready everything and everyone. Children and those who can best care for them are the only ones to be left behind. 1 in 20 capable men and women, chosen randomly, will remain for their protection. We leave for Belurian in 6 days!"

Kelnozz spun on his heel and stalked out of the chamber, leaving the stunned occupants behind. It was expected that Kelnozz would assume the mantle of leadership once Galinia abdicated, now that Marthollin was gone. But for her to name him as regent and acting King while she remained had surprised them all. Galinia had always shown a spark for the politic. She had always regaled in the intrigues of court. Now it appeared that she was done with it all. King Theonac had been taken from her, then her son. Now that their murderers had been laid to rest, she seemed at last ready to retire herself.

The councilors broke up quickly, heading to their own estates to ready them and to send out word to the dark elven peoples of Innowendyn. Fey times loomed on the horizon for the elven nations, whether they could claim victory or not.

Chapter 27

Yamara floated in a warm sea of liquid blackness, yet she was not wet. She rushed along an unfelt current, moving faster with each throbbing pulse. She felt a presence nearby, light a beacon of light, guiding her through the inky darkness towards a troubled area ahead. It was the equivalent of a whirlpool, siphoning off the sea of life in which she swam.

Eric, nearly spent, fought as ever he did against the enclosing darkness. He refused to give in to it; refused to sleep. At first he did not feel the warmth spreading from where their hands were joined. He did not even feel their hands grasping his tightly anymore, so far removed was he. Then the first spark of new life found it's way into him, spreading up his arm rapidly. He gasped, having been so intent on fighting off the darkness that he had forgotten to breathe. He knew then that it was going to be all right. He closed his eyes, unfelt tears of relief sliding down his cheeks. His mind, like Yamara's, was suddenly sucked downward into the pitch black abyss.

They were together and apart then, floating above the maelstrom of their joined essence. Each was aware of the other, yet both were confused and lost. Yamara faltered and was caught up in it, circling slowly at first about the edge, progressing deeper with each passing heartbeat and unable to break free. Eric watched her for only a second before he dove towards her, moving through it so naturally he seemed unaffected by it.

He caught her hand and arrested her descent, clinging to her fiercely. Yamara returned his grip, looking back at him thankfully yet somewhat warily. She had no idea where they were or what was happening, only that a few moments before he was on the verge of death and she had offered to help him.

Was that then what this was? The swirling vortex led them to the underworld? Death's embrace, warm rushing waters ferrying them to eternal darkness? She clung more fiercely to Eric's hand and fought against the current. Eric fought with her, striving against the insurmountable force that had them caught up.

In a few short moments it became apparent that there was no escape from it. They were caught up in it and would ride it through to its bitter end. Yamara continued to struggle against it, but both knew they would fail.

Eric would fight death to the end, but he was not afraid of it. He was not certain how much he enjoyed the thought of spending an eternity with Yamara, though only a few short weeks before he had been pondering a very similar question, just under much more pleasant circumstances.

"It's no use," Eric called out to her, his voice carrying through the soundless void they were in. "We cannot escape."

Yamara stopped fighting and looked at him. Fury raged in her eyes. She possessed an indomitable spirit, Eric could tell that now more then ever. She would never be vanquished, never be defeated. Death, when it came for her, would be on her terms. She would accept no less. He admired her and was terrified by her.

"Last chance for absolution," Eric joked, determined to honor her spirit and go out with a smile and a joke. She just looked at him and shook her head.

"Why are you here?" He asked, knowing they grew closer to the funnel that would suck them into the underworld. "Why did you come for me?"

"A favor for a friend," Yamara said, clasping his hand tightly.

"Then consider me a friend and do me a favor as well," Eric said to her, his hand only held within hers because she refused to let go. "Tell me the truth, was there anything between us in those first few days?"

Yamara smiled sadly. She would give him the truth, though it was not what he wanted to here. "I have come to respect you far more since then, Eric. At that time you were a mark. An obstacle I needed to overcome. I enjoyed myself but would have killed you just as readily had I needed to."

Eric nodded. "Thank you, Yamara, for being honest. One last thing, tell Bill he's the best brother a soldier could have."

"Now let me go, it's not your time to go where I'm going. I'm dying, Yamara. Shit happens and you can't stop it."

Yamara eye's widened as he grinned and closed his eyes. Yamara clenched her teeth and let go. Almost immediately Eric plummeted into the vortex. She watched him go, no longer feeling herself weighed down so heavily, and thought she saw him open his hand and give her a thumbs up before he disappeared from view. She stared a moment longer then used her mind to swim up away from the maelstrom towards consciousness far above.

*****

"What did you do to them?" Elvanshalee asked. Alesha slumped back away from the pale forms of Yamara and Eric. They lay unmoving on the ground, dead to the world.

Alesha groaned softly and shook her head to clear it. "Nothing, I have no power," she admitted at last. "I tried to take the gift Yamara was offering and heal Eric with it."

"Then what is happening?" Elvanshalee repeated.

"I don't know.," Alesha said, watching the two of them. At first she thought them both dead, their pallor was waxen and wan and they lay unnaturally still. Then she saw the faint raising an falling of Yamara's chest. "Yamara hinted to me once that she had some special ability with her mind once, she must be doing this of her own will."

"She can heal him?"

Alesha shrugged. "I don't know, he is beyond me."

"And what of you and the demon?" Elvanshalee asked.

"He is destroyed forever, his essence torn to the winds and scattered. With him gone I am free to do as I wish."

"What do you wish to do?"

Both women, human and elvish alike, turned to regard the haggard sounding voice. Bill stood unsteadily, using a now dead and desiccated tree for support.

Alesha looked at him, her eyes regarding him kindly. She took a stress reducing deep breath and glanced around the small grove of trees that she had destroyed. She pondered the question as she surveyed her handiwork. Again more innocent life lost because of her, mere vegetation perhaps, but life nonetheless.

"I will avenge Kelnozz by going after Ancaruin, it is as he would have done."

Bill nodded and carefully staggered over to where Eric lay on the ground. He slumped down beside him, using the only living tree in the area as a backrest. Elvanshalee regarded him coolly. She felt that his behavior was very out of the norm for his short lived and selfish race. Of course every species had their extremes, but she seemed to be in the presence of some of the best of the human race. Still no match for a decent elf, of course, but respectable in their own way.

Yamara gasped loudly and sat straight up. Elvanshalee, who was closest to her, reached out and grabbed her instinctively to keep her from falling back to the ground. She took a few shuddering breaths and gained her balance. She was cold to the touch.

"What happened?" Alesha asked, staring at her intently.

"Didn't you do it?" Yamara asked after she looked around for a few seconds to regain her bearings.

"Do what? I did nothing, my strength is gone," Alesha said tiredly. Indeed, she had never felt so drained and exhausted in her life. "You did that on your own."

Yamara blinked a few times, comprehension slowly coming to her. She reached out with her mind, experimenting. It caused a sharp pain to spear through her mind. She grunted and shook her head to clear it. When it went away she opened her eyes and stared at Bill.

"He wanted you to know that you are the best brother a soldier could have," she said quietly.

Bill nodded and shut his eyes before hanging his head respectfully. He sniffed loudly then forced himself to his feet. He looked around then found a relatively flat rock. Ignoring his own weariness, he dropped to his knees and used the sharpest edge on the rock to start digging into the loose soil.

All of the women turned at the sound of more people arriving. From the camp of refugees a small group of relatively able-bodied men and women bearing weapons advanced, investigating the strange sound of the pistol shot and the echoing effects of the pyrotechnics.

"What happened here?" The leader of the ragtag group said. She was one of the former Lords of Sanctuary, a retired pirate captain named Igrid. In spite of being in her 60s she looked strong and fit and carried herself well. No missing limbs or digits either, which seemed rare for a former pirate.

"One of the demons followed us through the gate," Elvanshalee spoke up quickly before Alesha or Yamara had a chance to. "They tracked it down here and gave battle to it, destroying it utterly."

"You sure it's gone?" A man named Kal said, looking around anxiously. He had perfected his own unarmed methods of combat he had invented over the years in the pursuit of serving of Alto, the God of Justice and Loyalty, with great success against men, women, and beasts. These demons that had attacked them were a different sort of adversary though. He was not so sure about them, but with Alto's light to guide him, he would do his best to test them.

"Yes, it wounded our friends badly but while they distracted it, we killed it," Alesha said, picking up on Elvanshalee's train of thought quickly.

They all nodded and the conscripted guards around her looked relieved. Kal alone seemed disappointed. It seemed he wanted a chance to seek some vengeance and justice against the demons that had driven them from their homes.

"Do you need any help with him?" Igrid asked, noting the finality of Eric's position. Bill looked up at her, his face a mask of determination. Not trusting himself to speak he shook his head and went back to it.

"Let us at least post guards then, in case any other found their way here," she said, motioning to some of her followers to take up positions. Kal chose to remain behind as well, though he was not one of the "official" guards. Bill ignored them all. Alesha rose to her feet and cast about, finding her own stone to use to aid in the grave digging. Yamara followed suit and Elvanshalee, feeling uncomfortable and not knowing what else to do, joined in the task as well.

Less then an hour later a proper grave had been dug with their crude tools. Bill laid Eric within it and spent a quiet moment in respectful thought. He looked at each of the remaining people, searching for something. Finally he ended up with his eyes resting on Alesha. He nodded as he seemed to find something, then tossed in the first handful of dirt to the grave. One by one, starting with Yamara, they did the same. Then they fell to it using their stones, hands, and feet, not stopping until the dirt was a shallow mound.

Finally, thoroughly dirty and exhausted mentally, physically, and emotionally, they returned to the camp with Kal and the remaining soldiers.

Chapter 28

"Ssythanduras," Darakor called out, speaking into his magical bowl. The hooded form of the lizardman high priest appeared after a few seconds. He hissed a greeting and waited for Darakor to continue.

"Ready your demons, they have an old debt they need to repay," he ordered, smiling grimly.

"What do you ssspeak of, General?" Ssythanduras responded, curious as to the plans of the newly positioned Lord of the Light Elves.

"My foolish cousins have interfered with this world far too long," he said. "Banishment appears to not have taught them a lesson, it is long past time they were shown the error of their ways!"

"You know the location of Innowendyn?" Ssythanduras' surprise was obvious in his tone.

Darakor ignored the question, not feeling it was important that Ssythanduras know he had gleaned the information from Narellin's memories. Narellin had never been there himself, but he had found it shortly after the dark elves had been banished there.

"The war-wizards will have a gate constructed on the night of the new moon, 11 days hence. Have the demon ready to go by then, with whatever priests and soldiers you can spare as well."

"What armies will you be sending?" Ssythanduras asked lightly, not wanting Darakor to know he was gauging the strength he would need to send and to keep in Mezarbolle to defend his position and holdings. Allies they were, yes, but nowhere was trust a part of their relationship.

"Put your petty ambitions aside, snake-man!" Darakor berated. "I leave only 100 elves and 200 orcs here, the rest will go to destroy my father's people!"

Ssythanduras chuckled. Such emotions were, in his opinion, the downfall of soft-skinned races. His people were hatched from clutches of eggs, no foolish waste of emotion or thought was given to family. As each day passed Darakor became more and more obsessed with the legacy of his birth. He heard the prophecy, he know that Kelnozz would be slain by his son. By him. It could be no other, Kelnozz had no heirs but Darakor.

"Ssso be it, General," the scaly priest said, "I ssshall sssend my warriorsss with you."

Darakor snarled. The lizardman would not come himself but he would send others to die in his stead. He broke the connection angrily. So be it! He would not need the priest, so long as he had an army of demons at his call. The elves would pay for their foolishness. And Kelnozz. Kelnozz would pay for his denial of him!

*****

The destruction of Loralost came far easier then Darakor had anticipated. Easier then any of them had expected it to. The city was all but abandoned, only a fraction of the reported elven population still resided in it, and of those most were children and women.

With his greatest obstacle being crushed under the wheels of his war machine Darakor should have been quite pleased. Instead, he was furious.

"Where have the elves gone?" He hissed into the face of a captured dark elven warrior. She grimaced in pain, arrows had her pinned her naked body to the side of a wooden barn through her upper arms and thighs. "Tell me and it will be over for you quickly!"

Darakor glanced away then back at her, a sadistic smile on his face. "Do not and you will linger."

To accentuate his point he took a dagger and pushed none to gently below her ribcage, piercing skin and muscle but not the organs beneath. She hissed in pain. He sawed down briefly, beginning the cut that on a game animal would have resulted in field dressing the animal. He removed the dagger and poked his fingers into the two inch long slit in her belly. Fishing around for a moment he caught on to some internal organ or other and tugged on it.

The prisoner felt the forced rearrangement of her intestine. She glanced down and saw that a small coil of it now hung from her body through the cut he had just made. Tears made their way down her face as she knew her fate was sealed.

"Oh yes, you will die here," Darakor said to her, grinning again. He spun about to face the rest of Loralost and shouted, "You will all die here!" His armies nearby that heard him raised up their weapons or trophies of war and shouted in victory. Never mind that pocket of resistance still existed in the city, it was a foregone conclusion that they would be overcome.

Darakor turned back to the dark elven women. "So tell me where Kelnozz has taken the elves. Tell me and you will find peace."

The elven women, a weaver named Calasia who had stayed behind to tend her two children and help in the warding of other children left behind, let the tears run down her face but kept her jaw firmly shut. She would not give the bastard light elf the satisfaction of seeing her break. Life was precious to dark elves, far more then wealth, power, or fame. The lives of the rest of the dark elven nation would not be given up by her, no matter the cost to herself.

"If not for your own well being," Darakor said, his voice dripping with angst again, "then how about theirs?"

Two light elves carried struggling bags over their shoulders. They threw the bags to the ground and carelessly cut into the sacks with their daggers, tearing great slits in them so that their contents could be seen. Calasia gasped as she realized she was looking at her two children, one only three years old while the other had seen nine summers. To have two children so closely together was a rarity amongst elves, and up until this very moment, Calasia had felt she had been blessed by it.

"Will you tell me for their sake? Or would you have them watch you slowly gutted? Or perhaps instead I will cut them up before your eyes? I am told it is much more painful to watch your children die then it is to watch a parent."

*****

"Loralost burns!"

Garandiir, the elven flagships captain, looked up to the lookouts nest in surprise. He turned quickly and scanned the skies in the direction of their distant home. Sure enough, though only eyes as keen as those of an elf could see it, the shadow of great columns of smoke rose from the earth.

"Stand fast and stay the ship!" Garandiir called out, echoed by several echoing cries from lesser officers. He moved hurriedly across the deck and towards the ships cabins. He reached for the handle to the door and had to snatch his hand away quickly to keep it from being cracked soundly by the rapidly opening door.

"My Lady, Loralost is afire," Garandiir said, snapping to attention. Admiral of the dark elven fleet and occasional friend and counselor to the Queen, he nevertheless felt awed in the presence of the Queen before him. Especially now that she was accompanying the elven host to Belurian.

Galinia looked off in distance behind the ship. They had left the harbor that very morning, the combined bulk of the dark elven nation. Only a scattering of elves remained behind, and of those few, even fewer were capable of defending themselves. If anything assaulted them it would be a wholesale slaughter.

And sure enough, the smoke told a story of attempted forced extinction. The Queen looked on in anguish at the smoke. Loralost was miles away from the harbor, in the middle of the large island the elves called Innowendyn. The fleet was nearly a dozen miles from Innowendyn by now as well, to boot.

"Have you any orders, my Queen?"

Galinia found the title hollow and bitter, at best. It had been many years since she had felt like a true queen. Her people had once followed her out of adoration for her husband. Then when he was slain, they had followed her out of admiration for how she held up and put the welfare of the elves before her own grief. Now that all of that was done, now that her own beloved son had been slain centuries ago, she did not want it and tried to ignore it every time he heard it. Nevertheless, she understood her position as always.

She knew also that Kelnozz was her successor. He had little desire for it, but in her estimation, the very best of rulers never did. His manner was dark of late, but once he found his way through it the elves would be far better off for it.

Far better off if they survived, she amended her thoughts after coming out of her reverie and seeing anew the distant smoke.

"Turn the fleet around," She said through teeth clenched with anger, "and make your best speed."

Garandiir nodded. "Aye, My Lady!" He turned and began snapping out orders to the crew. The Dawnchaser had been his ship since he first joined the Elven Navy, hundreds of years past. He had worked his way up from scraping barnacles off the hull to captain of the ship. Given the position of admiral, he refused to release the Dawnchaser from his service, thus he served both as captain and commander. His crew had been with him nearly as long, they followed him without question.

*****

A band of light elves bashed asunder the door into one of the largest estates in all of Loralost. A deafening explosion greeted them, sending all of them sprawling. Only the elves furthest from the door survived the blast, and of those only a few survived more then a few moments to draw breath.

The explosion drew the interest of those nearby, however. Two small bands of lizardmen approached, as well as two more light elves and at nearly a score of nearby lesser demons. The demons fell on the dying or dead casualties of the first trap, feasting on them. The elves and lizardmen ignored them, already probing forward cautiously into the estate. If the magical trap on the entrance was any indication, it promised to be filled with wealth and magic. It was clearly the home of a high ranking dark elven noble.

Traps, both magical and mundane, claimed victim after victim as they explored the manor. Here a pit trap filled with what appeared to be a black substance from which there was no return, there a scything blade able to cut through steel. Illusions came at them as well, from brigades of dark elves charging into them and causing them to kill one another to great magical beasts barely able to fit through the corridors.

The defenders of Loralost had managed to hold off the evil invaders for perhaps 30 minutes at the most, and had accounted for a death toll of only 30 assorted light elves, lizardmen, and demons. The manor house through which they now sought to invade easily tripled those numbers, both in time spent fouling it and in bodies slain.

At long last a small band of invaders - 1 elf, 2 lizardmen, and 1 mid-sized demon - made it to a set of ornately wrought double doors surrounded by an archway of faintly luminescent rune. All of them showed signs of injury, from scratches and cuts to burns and even a patch of damage on the demons hide from a blast of magical frost. The lizardmen looked to one another and fell back, allowing the light elf to take the lead.

The light elf sneered at their cowardice and studied the door carefully. He examined the runes, trying to recall his limited knowledge of magical things. The demon, stupid but cunning, pushed forward and grabbed the back of the surprised elf. Before the light elf could react, the demon heaved him forward, sending him crashing into the door and knocking it wide open. The demon chortled in laughter, joined a few moments later by the lizardmen.

The light elf turned, his sword poised to strike at the demon. Before he could finish the swing he saw the stunned silence and surprised looks in their eyes. He spun back around and beheld what they saw, feeling shocked himself.

Alone in the wall to wall black room a dark elf lay upon a table made of flawless white marble. Fully dressed, all of them knew instantly who it was that they had found. More importantly in spite of the clamor of their invasion of the house, he was asleep. With the moments surprise overcome, they rushed forward, weapons out and ready to strike.

Being the closest, the light elf passed over the line of black powder on the equally black marble floor first. His foot broke the circle, causing Kelnozz to awake instantly. Somehow fully aware of what was happening, he rolled off the far side of the table and drew his blades in one motion. Just in time to avoid the descending light elf's sword, which clanged harmlessly off of the marble table top.

The lizardmen reigned in their advance and moved to surround the table. The demon leapt, sailing over the top of the light elf and reaching out for Kelnozz with long talons. Kelnozz easily avoided the demons lethal grasp, sending both blades up to eviscerate the unholy creature in a single pass.

Kelnozz leapt upon the table then, kicking out with one foot in the process and sending the light elf stumbling back with a bloody nose, split lips, and broken teeth. He pivoted and decapitated one lizardman before it could even fully turn to bear on him, then kicked the falling head into the chest of the other lizardman. In a flash he was on him, driving both blades into the surviving lizardman's chest. He turned to face the stunned light elf, a furious look on his face.

The light elf, shaking his head to clear it of the pain, spat out his teeth and turned to flee. Kelnozz was after him, matching his frantic pace with ease and gaining on him with each nearly silent footfall. The last desperate gasps of life within the room ended within seconds, not even a minute had elapsed since the room had been breached, such was the speed and skill of the slaughter.

Chapter 29

Yamara awoke a few hours later. For a brief moment she lay there watching the stars far above her blink on and off, her mind empty of all thoughts. Then in a rush it all came back to her. Her lips parted and she gasped silently. In spite of it being the middle of the night everyone around her was talking, and none of them seemed to be doing it quietly.

She picked her head up and looked around, trying to figure out what was going on. The voices she heard were disjointed and no two things seemed connected, it was very confusing. As she looked her eyes widened. Hardly anyone was awake, only a few sentries at the edges. She shook her head and looked again. Nothing changed.

Yamara let her head rest back on the ground and stared up again. Still the stars blinked at here, though it seemed to be in a circular pattern. She paid it no mind and instead tried to focus in on the voices she heard. In a short time she realized that she recognized some of them. Listening closely she began to sense images and pictures, though they were fleeting. Her mouth fell slack as she realized what was going on. She was hearing people's thoughts.

She sat up, excited. Something had happened when Eric died. She had broke through some barrier inside of herself to reach out to him in his final moments. In doing so, she had also broken through the final wall that her mind had established to keep her from using her psychic powers. She felt the warmth on her chest then and glanced down in surprise.

Yamara reached into her shirt and pulled out the ruby that Brina had given her. It throbbed faintly with an inner light in the darkness, pulsing in a rhythm with her own heart. She stared at it in wonder and fought back the moisture that came to her eyes. Brina was with her after all. She tucked the ruby back into the valley between her breasts and arranged her shirt to cover it.

Uncertain of what to do next, Yamara felt no tiredness whatsoever. She experimentally tried to lower a shield over her head, or rather the image of a shield. The voices and images became muffled. She smiled and continued to experiment, tuning in and out the thoughts of those around her as well as learning how to focus on just one to the exclusion of others.

After a short time she lay back to get more comfortable as she tried to imagine what else she could do. It put a strain on her, the harder she focused and used her powers, but the excitement in it was to much to ignore. The strange blackness continued to circle above, though now it was bigger. It was so big, in fact, that it seemed to have an unfamiliar shape to it. Unfamiliar but instantly recognizable. It was a dragon.

"Dragon!" Yamara called out loudly, bringing those awake who were nearby to quick attention. They followed her gaze and soon everyone was scrambling, waking up others and trying to figure out what to do about it.

"How long till it gets here?" Someone asked nearby. Yamara glanced over and saw it was the human named Kal that had tried to attach himself to their group.

"15 minutes, maybe less," Elvanshalee said, staring up into the night sky.

Kal eyed it warily. He ground his teeth and turned to look around. "Get these people into the trees!"

The lieutenant took the order to heart and immediately started organizing the few makeshift guards so that they were shepherding the refugees into the cover of the forest. In a few minutes only a handful of people still stood upon the hilltop. Bill had his crossbow in hand, ready to lash out at whatever he could.

"Have any tricks up your sleeve?" Yamara asked, glancing over at Alesha. Alesha looked to her and Yamara noticed for the first time the look on her face. She looked haggard and grief stricken. Her eyes had a hollow look about them. Over the mental shield she had put in place she could sense a strong sense of loss coming from her.

"What's the matter?" Yamara asked, walking quickly over to where she stood.

Alesha looked at her, a haunted expression on her face. Her mouth opened and her lips moved, but no words came out. Finally she shut her eyes and shook her head, breathing raggedly.

Concerned for her, Yamara gently grabbed her by the shoulders and asked, "What is it, Alesha? What is wrong?"

She looked back up at her, striking her again with the look of emptiness in her eyes. "I am nothing." She held up her hands, palms facing up, and offered them to her.

"My powers are gone," she continued after a moment. "I healed myself with Bill's life and now they are gone."

"How did it happen?" Yamara asked, her surprise matched only by her curiosity.

She shook her head numbly. "I don't know. I was so tired after it happened that I did not think about it. I lay down for a while, too empty to do anything, and only just woke up. I can not feel the energy around me. I could always pull it to me and use it, but now I can't find it. It's like it's not there anymore."

The dragon was close enough now that he could hear the wind whistling around it as it plunged towards them. She glanced up and saw the outline of it. She cursed the darkness and turned back to Alesha. "Figure it out later. If there is a later. For now lay low."

Alesha nodded slowly. The dragon looked to be right over them, but in reality it was probably at least a thousand feet in the air still. The darkness of the night continued to foil their attempts to identify the color and nature of the great winged beast.

"How we going to get rid of this fucker?" Bill asked out of nowhere. His tone was harsh and uncaring.

"I think it's Luingirth," Alesha said more quietly then normal. Had everyone else not been anxiously quiet, she might have gone unheard.

"Why do you think that?" Elvanshalee asked.

"If it was going to attack us, it would have come in differently. It's a very large dragon too, and Loo's one of the biggest ones around anymore."

Bill nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense, the way the flyboys brought their F-16's in on attack runs, at least when they had to come in close."

The dragon flipped over and come straight down at them in a dive. The sudden acceleration caught them all off guard. Before they could react the plunging dragon had descended several hundred feet. With a great flapping of its wings it arrested its descent and sent all of them stumbling backwards from the force of the winds it generated. By the time the wind and dust cleared they all knew that had the dragon been there to cause trouble, they would all be dead. It was indeed Luingirth. Luingirth with Garrick astride him.

"What news?" Alesha asked, showing a sign of life for the first time.

Garrick, for the first time in a long time, showed no sign of his nearly irrepressible joy of life. "Kelnozz has been captured. Ancaruin lives again. War and darkness unknown to Viconia since the elven Kinslayer Wars will soon be upon us."

"Sounds bad," Bill muttered sarcastically. Garrick eyed him briefly then looked to Alesha.

"Kel lives, but he was taken to Ancaruin's lair near Mezarbolle."

Alesha nodded slowly. Thoughtfully. "Take me there."

Garrick looked at her more carefully. Then he laughed a short, harsh laugh. "You have been there. You know what its like. With all of us we stand no chance, even with your power, Luingirth, and myself."

Alesha turned away, a stricken look upon her face. Garrick looked at her oddly for a moment, then, his eyes squinting briefly, he laughed again, a dark and bitter laugh. "You're powerless! Ha! Now we would truly stand no chance!"

Bill bristled. He stepped in front of Alesha and glared up at Garrick, who towered over him in spite of the distance of 8 feet between the two of them. "Back the fuck off, man!"

"Do you know who I am?" Garrick roared at him, amazed at Bill's action.

Bill was upset. Not merely upset, but downright pissed off. He had seen Garrick treat Alesha with a familiarity and a lack of consideration that he and Eric had both seen before, in third world countries. It was only the power of Garrick's presence and his Mr. Olympia on steroids build that gave Bill pause. He glanced around and saw everybody was watching raptly. All eyes were on him. All except for Yamara's. Yamara stared at Garrick with her eyes wide open. Not only that, but her jaw muscles were clenched and she looked almost perplexed by what she saw.

Garrick turned his head to follow Bill's gaze. He already knew what Yamara was doing, but was biding his time in dealing with her. Now, apparently, was the time. He locked gazes with her and gave her a close lipped smile. Yamara gasped and took a stumbling step backwards. All the color drained from her face.

"Ask your friend," Garrick said, turning back to Bill. "She knows who I am now."

"Bill, relax, it's okay," Alesha said softly, her hand on Bill's shoulder. Bill was confused and embarrassed. Not one to normally shirk from being the center of attention, he suspected he was in way over his head. It was not the first time, but given the challenges facing him, it might be the last. Bill gave her a compassionate look and nodded to her, letting her know at a word from her he would jump back into the fire.

"He abandoned you," Garrick said, ignoring Bill and addressing Alesha again. "What did you do to deny him?"

"You disapprove of her refuting Bavorish, the God of Death and Chaos?" Elvanshalee asked, surprised.

Garrick spat out a hearty laugh at her question. "Far from it, lass! Far from it. I never cared much for the mother lover, remember? Or do even elves begin to forget their history?"

Elvanshalee blushed at the admonition. Bill and Yamara looked at her curiously. She glanced at them and quickly gave a brief history lesson taught to the youngest of children, "Garrick, Carson, and Celos came to Viconia thousands of years ago from another world, before even the Kinslayer wars. Bavorish was a man then, the wizard-king of Belurian. They battled through his armies and his defenses, coming at last to him. He called them out at the end, challenging them to single combat. Celos went first, the weakest of the three at melee combat. In a battle the shook the heavens and the earth, Bavorish cast him aside, mortally wounded. Then came Carson, the next most skilled at the art of hand to hand combat. Perhaps Bavorish was already weakened, or perhaps Carson was better. Whatever the case, Bavorish slipped on some of Celos' blood and in that slip Carson struck true, spilling his lifeblood."

"All four were then charged with becoming the first Gods of Viconia, with both Bavorish and Celos restored to full health before their life fled. The rule of life was put in place and so long as it remained unbroken, no God could ever be defeated, whether by mortal hand or not."

Garrick nodded. "Aye, that's the right of it. But the rule of life has been broken with Ancaruin's return."

"Then why do you speak so of her denial of Bavorish?" Elvanshalee asked him.

"Because it amuses me, elf!" Garrick berated her. "Because I wish to know what caused it. The fall of the elves came from being to curious, or did you forget about that as well?"

Elvanshalee bristled at his words but let them humble her just the same. After all, Garrick was only one step removed from being a God himself. Bill was scowling at his treatment of her, although a hidden part of him was amused because he did not care for her much himself and felt it was time she got a dose of her own medicine.

"I thought I beat him in beating Talifernon," Alesha said softly, addressing Garrick only and acting as though the rest of them were not there.

"Nay lass, he can not deny you your free will, but he can deny you that which he gave you. You turned from him and gave proof by destroying his pet, now he wishes to make you suffer from your decision."

"So all along I was still his creature and only now, by going back to who I was before can I be free of him?" Alesha asked bitterly.

Garrick gave her a sympathetic smile. "Not even now, child. You bear his mark, you can never be free of his whim. You can only fight against him or for him every day of your life."

Alesha closed her eyes and nodded. She turned and walked away slowly, shaking her head and hugging her arms about herself. None of it made any sense to her. If Bavorish determined whether she had power or not, then why was she still able to use her magic when she was in the Tavern, a place free from all outside influence? It baffled her, but it gave her hope. Hope was the only thing keeping her teetering on the brink of a dark and dangerous precipice.

"What doth we do?" Luingirth asked, watching the events with only the faintest of interest. The trials and challenges of humans and even elves rarely ever mattered to him. Especially when he had something far weightier on his mind.

"Innowendyn!" Elvanshalee said, coming suddenly to the realization of what they must do next. "We must seek out the island of the dark elves and tell them what passes! Without their aid Belurian, nay, all of Viconia, will fall!"

"Aye, lass, for once you see the truth. The kin slaying must begin anew, else all the world will be as wheat for the scythe," Garrick said grimly.

"I don't get it," Bill spoke up. "I thought when this happened last time it took an army of men, elves, and dwarves to stop it?"

"The strength of men is broken, they are disorganized and no greatness exists among them in this time. The time you speak of was the last of the great times for men in this age. My son and Carson's son led them and no suitable leader exists to pull them out of their pettiness," Garrick explained.

"Dwarves will fight, of that you can always be sure, but their number is too few and only the ones on Belurian can answer the call in time. They'll help, be certain, but Darakor seeks to finish what was begun before. Without our warning and our help, the elves will be lost."

"Not all men are scared and witless!" Kal said, raising his voice and stepping forward. "I can't imagine Alto would stand for this! Let me aid you!"

Everyone turned to look at him. None laughed, his sincerity was to great and the way he held himself spoke of both a quiet confidence and a basic level of ability. Garrick finally spoke up, "Nay, friend, stay here and defend the refugees. None of us doubts your desire or your abilities, but you have a different doom upon you then that which lies for them. Alto has other plans for you."

Kal gasped. He understood that Garrick was really Garrick, the figure of legend. He had momentarily put the thought aside as he made his offer to help, but now he realized what it was he was stepping in to. He nodded and stepped back a step. "If Alto wishes it to be so, then I trust his wisdom," he murmured.

"And Kelnozz, what of him?" Luingirth asked, staring intently at Garrick.

"We rescue him as best we can, when we can," Garrick responded, sending a frustrated look up at the dragon.

"You can not win this war without him," Alesha spoke a little more strongly as she came out of the darkness from where she had walked and pondered her lot in things.

"Damnit wench, don't you think I know of these things? Mayhaps instead there are things at play that you do not know of?" Garrick said, becoming exasperated.

Alesha gasped in surprise at his rebuttal. New possibilities flooded through her mind. Ideas that had previously not come to her. She had no idea what it was that he meant, but the potential that rang through her thoughts made her head swim with the heaviness of it all.

She nodded her acquiescence. "Let us be off! We waste time here!"

"Will they let a light elf find Innowendyn?" Elvanshalee asked, her manner unsure for the first time since any of them had met her.

"Let them try to stop us!" Garrick said with a fierce grin. Elvanshalee was concerned that they might try to do that very thing.

"Will you bear us to the isle of the elves, Luingirth?" Garrick asked, addressing the dragon with a near formality that was unusual for them. "We work towards returning Kelnozz, this is the only way."

Luingirth regarded him calmly for a moment. Then he nodded his gargantuan head and lowered himself so that they could climb aboard him.

Alesha's hand brushed against Bill's arm and she said softly to him, "You have been a dear man to me, Bill, but perhaps you should stay here to protect the survivors. We go to open war, you have proven to be no slouch with a sword, but I think swordplay will play a lesser role in the battles ahead."

Bill was touched and stung at the same time by her words. He shook his head. "No way, somebody has to keep an eye on Arnold there."

"Who?" Alesha asked, following Bill's smoldering glare towards Garrick. Then something clicked in her head and she laughed lightly, if for only a moment. The resemblance was minimal, if any, but he had reminded her of Earth. "Gods, Bill, has it been so long? I don't even remember movies or movie stars anymore."

"Come, we ride!" Garrick called out loudly. They hurried to climb astride Luingirth's back, ready to take yet another dragon flight from Helmsmasher Isle.

Chapter 30

Darakor idly rubbed his palms over the pommels of his two swords. Cirithallion had long been lifeless. It was still a very powerful weapon in the hands of a skilled swordsman, but the unholy essence that had driven it's prior owners to madness and death had long since deserted it. Ancaruin had returned, leaving Cirithallion nothing more then a powerful tool forged by a dwarf who turned out to be more skilled at his craft then was good for him.

The woman was dead, of course. She had told him what he needed to know, that the elves had set sail for Belurian, nigh all of them, with the intent of meeting and defeating the light elves. Kelnozz had been named heir to the throne, yet he did not lead the assault for the queen herself was with them.

Out of frustration at having missed them so narrowly, a day or two at the most, Darakor had ordered her children slain and eaten by demons before her very eyes. Then he had killed her himself, cutting her hands and feet off with Cirithallion and watching her as she bled to death. The pain was unquestionable, but never once did she cry out or beg for mercy. She hated him as fiercely as he had grown to hate her. Her hatred was justified, whereas he merely needed a place to vent his rage.

"Lord Darakor!" A light elven soldier came racing up to where he stood regarding the unstaring dead eyes of the dark skinned prisoner. "The elves return! They must have seen the fires!"

Darakor's eyes widened and a scornful smile spread across his face. "Let them come!" he said, striding quickly towards a nearby rocky outcropping where he could gain a better view of the surrounding lands towards the miles distant harbor. "How long till they reach us?"

"Any time, My Lord, our scouts that were sent to the harbors met them returning. Only 1 runner made it back to warn us."

Darakor grinned now, his taste for blood had not nearly been sated. Vengeance was yet to be his!

"Did Kelnozz lead them?" He asked, hopping up on the rocks and staring at the fields and forests that lay below the valley that Loralost was nestled in.

"The scout did not see him, Milord, but the queen was there astride her horse striking out with her own lance and sword!"

Darakor laughed at the vision the soldiers description provided him. He turned to the other elves and lizardmen under his command that had begun to gather at the spreading news. A few pockets of resistance still battled, but Loralost was theirs for the plundering. "Make ready to defend against our pathetic cousins! We will put an end to their ways once and for all, proving we are the elves that the Gods would have on this world!"

The elves cheered and ran off to ready some sort of meager defense. The lizardmen moved to aid them, though less enthusiastically. Still, a dead elf was better then a living one, they figured. Even more so if it was a dark elf!

*****

Riding at the head of the advance, Queen Galinia came within sight of the burning outskirts of Loralost only minutes after Darakor had received warning of their return. She fought back the wave of despair at the site of her once beautiful city's desolation, and instead felt it harden her heart and fill her with anger. She let loose a war cry from so deep within her that she knew not where it came from, nor that she had that much passion left in her. The dark elves beside and behind her echoed her, for it was their homes too.

Strategy and cunning aside, they charged forth. Relying upon conviction and their rage to see them through, they scarcely even noticed when the arrows began to thin their ranks. Several bounced off of the queen's finely crafted armor, slowing her not in the least. She lowered her lance and skewered two dark elves and a lizardman when they reached the hastily constructed barricade across the road. Her surviving riders with her easily cleared the barricade. Several turned, casting lance aside and drawing their swords to help strike the defenders asunder so that the barricade could be more effectively breached.

Not the queen. She spurred her horse forward, only dimly aware that two arrows had managed to find chinks in her armor. One stuck out of her right hip where the greave ended and the chain tunic under it offered less protection. Another, and this one she did notice, had made a deep cut across her chin as it passed in front of her. Her open faced helm had been no protection there.

Nevertheless she rode on, bearing down upon a light elf who stood with a long sword in each hand. By his stance she knew who he was, for he bore an uncanny resemblance to her nephew. She steadied her lance and aimed for him, counting upon the skill or her smiths and the strength of her magicians to provide her armor with strength to withstand anything that might come against her in this desperate assault.

"Darakor!"

Both Darakor and Queen Galinia felt their attention drawn to the source of the strangled cry of rage. Kelnozz emerged from behind a building, his blades and his body were covered in blood. From the nature of his movements, it was apparent none of it was his. Galinia saw him clearly and gasped in surprise. She tried to reign in her horse and to call out to him, but the swiftness of her steed had betrayed her.

Darakor took the tip of Galinia's now unguided lance in his left shoulder, punching him back and twisting him around. He lashed out with Cirithallion in his right hand, thrusting up and through the finely wrought breastplate of Queen Galinia as though it were made of boiled leather. She gasped and dropped her lance, clutching the reigns of her horse with her other hand desperately.

Her steed kept going, circling slightly at the strange pressure its rider was giving it now. It slowed, knowing she was having trouble holding on and trying to aid her. In moments the queen lost her strength and slid off the side of the horse, crashing to the ground. The horse nuzzled at her affectionately, trying to get her to rise and remount him. He bore the wounds of a few arrows as well, though nothing had struck deeply within him as yet.

Darakor moved his left arm experimentally and looked to his shoulder. His chain mail had warded off the blow, but the bruise he had received would be a long time in healing. A glance toward the queen told him she was down and would not likely challenge him again. Cirithallion had bit deeply, and in spite of its malevolent spirit being gone, it still channeled some of the life from its victim to its owner. The surge of healing he had received told him of the severity of the wound.

Darakor turned to see Kelnozz charging towards him. He was still several hundred yards distant, and as well more then a few of his minions were between them. He used the time to good effect, looking around for the most advantageous location from which he could fight against his mentor.

A cry of alarm went up from both armies up and down their ranks. Above, closing rapidly, came a dragon. Unaware that the light elves had come without the support of any dragons, the dark elves assumed it to be one of many that might turn the tide of the battle against them. Whereas the light elves knew it could only be an ally for their hated cousins, as they had none of their own in the sky at that time.

Luingirth closed rapidly, beating his mighty wings to propel them forward. Upon seeing the smoke an urgency had set upon him. An urgency that clearly boded ill for the elves. As soon as he was able he streaked down from the sky and used his most powerful weapon, a bolt of static electricity that sparked out from his mouth to a string of light elves clothed in highly conductive chain and plate armors. Aside from their spasmodic jerking as the extreme voltage fried their flesh and organs, they did not move again.

Luingirth's mighty claws skidded along the ground, tearing up great chunks of earth as he stopped himself. A trench fully 60 feet long lay behind them, but they were on the ground. Garrick had already leapt free from the dragon, his hammer flying through the air taking demon, light elf, and lizardman without care for their attempted defenses. He followed after, heading off towards the center of the city and away from the majority of the fighting. The rest jumped, fell, or slid off as quickly as possible. Luingirth had other plans that did not include having to watch out for anyone riding upon him. He leapt back up to the air, wheeling about and preparing another strike.

Alesha led them all to a nearby building where they could put their back to a wall and better examine the battlegrounds surrounding them. They were behind the enemy lines but the fear of Luingirth had scattered the light elves and they were not quick to return. The sight of Elvanshalee confused some of them as well, for they assumed the rest of be prisoners.

"Who is that?" Bill asked, pointing out a side window of the small storefront they were in. Not far from where they were Queen Galinia lay gasping for breath while her horse stood over her protectively.

Elvanshalee gasped when she saw her. "That is the Queen of the dark elves! She is wounded, we must save her!"

Bill took the crossbow he had on his back and quickly loaded a bolt into it. He looked over at the others and nodded to indicate he would do what he could.

"Wait!" Yamara said. "I will go with you."

Bill looked at her. It seemed odd for her to be offering to place herself in harm's way like this for someone she did not know. Hell, it was odd for her to be placing herself in harm's way for someone she did know! She gave him a quick reassuring smile and nodded her head towards the door. Bill shrugged and threw the door open.

Yamara was out the doorway instantly. Bill followed, trying to improvise from the techniques that had been drilled into him over and over in his military career about clearing doors, rooms, clearings, and the like. The improvisation was necessary because instead of a conventional firearm he carried a one shot crossbow and an axe. He and Yamara covered each other as best they could as they moved along the side of the building and came into the open courtyard off to the side where the queen lay. Three Lizardmen approached, two with short curved swords and a third with a staff. He reminded Bill of something out of a cheap horror movie, which he took to mean the lizardman with the staff had to be a priest or shaman or something. Behind the lizardmen a demon loped back and forth, searching for something, anything, to rend and eat.

Between the queen and the lizardmen stood her horse. It was a noble steed, one of the long lived warhorses bred by elves for their leaders. Loyal as well, its queen was injured and it alone stood to defend her, for it knew the approaching creatures bode her and it nothing but ill will. As they came within range it reared up, striking out and catching one of the sword wielding lizardmen with its hoof. The snake-man hissed and clutched at its broken arm, sword clattering to the cobblestones. With a angry whinny and a toss of its mane, the horse whirled around and bucked, sending both hind legs into the wounded lizardman's chest.

Yamara and Bill ran forward. They hoped the horse would provide a distraction for them, and it did. The other lizardman backed away nervously from the enraged animal. The priest spat out some hissing commands, to which the demon responded by lumbering forward towards the horse. The demon was roughly the same size as the horse, though it was covered with a patches of sparse wiry hair that hid its twisted but muscular form in shadows. Its hands ended in claws and its feet possessed cruel talons instead of toenails. It was humanoid, but all semblance to humanity ended there.

The demon rushed the horse, ducking under it as it reared up and grappling with its chest. The horses cry, both terrified and angry, was cut short quickly. The demon twisted it around so it fell to the ground on its side, then it moved on top of it before it could react and sung its great fangs into the horses neck, tearing deeply and mortally into the flesh.

Bill and Yamara had reached the queen, however. They had a scant 10 feet between them and the feasting demon. The remaining lizardman soldier noticed them for the first time and hissed angrily. It made as if to charge them, then stopped short when a crossbow bolt appeared in its chest. It pawed at it curiously, trying to pull it out then stopping when it realized how much it hurt to do that. It looked back up to the priest with an unreadable expression on its reptilian features before its knees gave way and it fell to the ground.

Bill reloaded his crossbow quickly, cranking it back just in time. He sited it in and let fly, the bolt spearing through the air and thudding into the abdomen of the demon that the priest had re-tasked with killing them. The demon sneered and grabbed the bolt, tearing it free from its unnatural flesh and chuckling in a mangled laugh. The wound healed as soon as the bolt was free of it.

Alesha, watching through the window, ground her teeth in frustration at her helplessness. She reached out with her hand and tried to will the magic she no longer possessed into being. For a moment she almost believed it was going to happen. It felt like somewhere, either deep inside or all around her, something stirred and began to answer her summons. Then it was gone. She let out a breath she had held far to long and nearly felt her body go limp with the effort.

Bill watched the demon with wide eyes. If his crossbow did no lasting damage then his axe would have no better luck. Nevertheless he stood his ground in front of it and prepared to defend the three of them.

The demon snarled or smiled, it was a fine line between the two that neither Bill nor Yamara was qualified enough to determine. It came forward, it's long arms dragging on the ground as it kept it's heavily muscled legs coiled beneath it. Bill kept his balance low, axe across in front of him as he had been taught in a relaxed defensive posture.

Snapping forward like an uncoiling spring, the demon was on Bill faster then even his special forces trained reflexes could handle. The axe was trapped between them, impaling the demon's thigh and by mere chance alone keeping it far enough away that it's snapping jaws crashed shut on empty air inches from Bill's face.

Yamara was there then, slashing across the back of the demon with her short sword. The demon howled in pain, rearing back away from Bill. It twisted around catching Yamara in the thigh with it's clawed hand. She stumbled off to the side, very briefly losing her balance. Bill could imagine her pain at the bruising impact of the creatures demonic hand. The problem was, he was trying to handle with the trampled and crushed feelings he was dealing with himself.

Yamara recovered quickly and crouched low, short sword in one hand and dagger in the other. The demon rushed at her. Loping along on all fours. Yamara had a look of intense concentration on her face, so serious was it that she almost seemed in pain because of it. Under her shirt the ruby glowed more brightly as Yamara subconsciously tapped into it to help channel her power. The demon leapt at her, coming within inches of her before it encountered some invisible force that redirected it away from her. Yamara grunted and fell twisting away to her left while the demon skidded to her right. It spun about quickly and looked at her with apparent confusion in its eyes.

Elvanshalee watched Alesha with intense curiosity. When Alesha's attempt to help failed, Elvanshalee glanced out the window and saw that Yamara and Bill were clearly in trouble. Even more so because the priest saw that his pet demon was not doing an efficient enough job and had now stepped up and appeared to be preparing to mutter an unholy incantation. She thrust out her hand towards him and spat out a quick stream of arcane babble herself, sending a glowing dart of blue energy from each fingertip towards the priest.

The priest stumbled backwards from the unerring impacts of the five motes of magic. He turned and looked at the window from whence they came and saw Elvanshalee just finishing up another spell. He hissed angrily and began to invoke the unholy powers granted to him by his God.

His spell went awry a few syllables before it was completed, however. Bill's axe cleaved into it's side, causing an odd combination of a grunt and a hiss that Bill felt certain he would never hear replicated again. He yanked the axe free from the scaled humanoid and, when it turned to face him, he slashed across, nearly severing the creature's head. It fell to the ground never to rise again.

In his head, Bill heard a cry of warning. Without knowing why, he fell to the ground immediately. He felt as though he were in a fire zone all of a sudden. He ignored the twitching death spasms of the lizardman next to him as well as the blood rinsing away the dust and ashes on the cobblestones. Over his back he felt and heard the demon go sailing. It's hind leg along managed to snag his shoulder, one talon ripping both leather armor and skin.

Bill rolled over, his shoulder numb from the injury. He suspected that was for the best, the demon's toes looked awfully vicious, after all. The demon had sailed further then it intended to, apparently, but it was back in a flash. It's master dead, the demon sought vengeance upon the man who had slain him. It leapt at Bill again, coming down towards him with its feet and pincered hands leading the way it what promised to be both a painful and grisly landing. Bill's eyes opened wide, he had no time to react or place to go if he could. Bill heard a guttural scream and then the demon was hit from the side. Something impacted it with enough force to send it off course in mid air. It landed on the ground in a tumble, coming back up after a few rolls.

Bill glanced around and saw that Yamara stood with her weapons down but a look of focused rage on her face. He realized the scream he had heard was her. The demon raised itself up and shook its head. It looked at the two of them and roared, giving them both a look at the many rows of curved teeth it longed to use on them. It rose up on its hind feet again and looked from one to the other, trying to determine which puny human kept denying it.

Elvanshalee's spell came into effect then, igniting flames that erupted around it from the ground. It howled in agony from the magical fires and danced about, uncertain of which way to go to escape them. A high jump forward finally let it clear the ring of fire. It's hair was singed off and its skin scorched in many places. It glared at them all, breathing heavily all the while. Then it loped off away from them in search of easier victims or a place to rest and heal.

Bill hurried over to Yamara to verify that she was okay. She just nodded and they turned to the downed body of the queen. In a moment they knew they were too late, there was nothing to be done to save her. Nothing unless Alesha could work another miracle.

Nevertheless they carried the nearly spent Queen of the Elves as gently as they could into the building. Bill could have sworn the woman should have weighed far more then she did, given the heavy armor she was wearing. A studied look of concentration on Yamara's face the whole while set him to wondering anew.

Inside Bill examined the Queen's wound, just to be certain. Elvanshalee stayed back in the shadows, not wanting to alarm the once powerful woman with her heritage. The Queen looked about at them, blood on her lips and a frantic look in her eyes.

"Relax," Bill assured her softly, taking her hand. "We are friends."

"We are friends of Kelnozz," Alesha said, stepping up to her other side and taking her other hand.

Galinia looked at Alesha and recognition dawned upon her. She had never seen the woman before, but such striking beauty could only exist in one place. "Tell him I am sorry," she whispered, a tear running down her cheek. "I had to be sure the elves had a king..."

"They weren't supposed to come here," She gasped, staring back up at the ceiling. "This place was ours! He was never to have known..."

Alesha made hushing noises and laid her hand upon the Queen's cheek. Already it was cold. She had lost more blood then could be survived without immediate action. Action that, she cursed herself, she could no longer perform. In the back of her mind she felt something. A memory perhaps, or a connection, she was not sure. She was drawn inward towards it but shook it away, sensing it was a path she did not wish to travel.

The Queen died, her last short breath fading away to stillness. A silence descended over the room, the sounds of war outside muffled and distant. For the elves an age had passed, though only Elvanshalee and Alesha glimpsed the significance of it, the rest felt humbled by the events they were witnessing.

Bill ended the silence with a gasp. He fell to his knees and reached out for the table, trying to catch himself. His shoulder blazed with a fiery pain. The others were there quickly, trying to see what was wrong with him. With Yamara's help he managed to haul himself up on top of a counter. The various jars and books already on it flew off before his hands, seeming to move of their own accord. He stared at them in surprise, but was more concerned with his own well being.

"It's probably poisoned," Elvanshalee mused, coming out of her shadowed corner to help them. Bill glanced at her and scowled. Not at her, but at what she had said. He still did not care for her, but her magic had defeated the demon where his crossbow had done him no good.

"So let's wash it out, get some water!" Bill snapped, looking around the room. He was definitely not having a good day.

Will you let me help?

Bill gasped, he heard Yamara's voice in his head. He looked at her wide eyed and found he had no words to express himself. The pain was spreading deeper into his chest and the presence of poison did nothing to calm him.

"Open your mind to me, Bill, and try to relax," Yamara said to him. The others looked at her in surprise, but said nothing for they had no idea of what she was talking about. Against her chest the amulet glowed nearly bright enough to be seen through her leathers.

Yamara drew upon the force of Bill's determination and strength to reinforce her own blossoming power. She sent her consciousness, with him riding along as a passenger, into his body and through his very nerve endings. In less time then it took a heart to beat, they had assessed the damage. Bill gave her a mental nod to proceed, they knew what to do and knew that it had to be done, the question remaining was whether or not he would survive being saved!

To Alesha and Elvanshalee almost no time at all had passed. As one they gasped when the wound suddenly filled with blood. It poured out of it and ran down Bill's side. Alesha reacted quickly, reaching forward to put pressure on the wound and slow the sudden surge of blood.

"No!" Yamara snapped, clearly distracted. "Turn him on his side so it flows freer."

"He's lost to much already!" Alesha growled. "You'll bleed him dry like that, we have to stop this!"

Yamara looked at Alesha then, catching her eyes and forcing her to see her. Alesha nearly gasped at her expression. She had seen her countless times, but this time she let her see into her more deeply then ever before. She nodded and helped prop Bill up on his side so that that tainted blood poured free of the wound.

In a few seconds it was over. Yamara let out a gasp as the connection was broken. Bill went limp and Alesha quickly laid him back on his stomach, checking for signs of life. There was a pulse but it was weak. Bill's skin was cold to the touch and he looked pale. The wound in his back, still deep and ugly, no longer bled.

"What just happened?" Alesha said, looking up to Yamara.

"Just paying off a debt," she mumbled.

"How did you do that though?" Elvanshalee demanded.

Yamara just shook her head, unwilling or unable to explain. Alesha nodded her head, she guessed at the answer. When Yamara had touched Eric moments before he died she had watched and learned of Yamara's inexplicable ability. It was not magic, or at least not as she understood it to be, but something else that made no sense to her. It seemed Yamara was still a girl with many surprises.

Elvanshalee glanced outside and gasped. "Look!" She cried out, drawing their attention to the scene provided through the window.

Chapter 31

Darakor stood upon a grassy mound upon which a single mighty redwood tree grew. The tree had thus far escaped the ravaging of Loralost. Darakor waited patiently, a sword in each hand. Kelnozz walked towards him, heading straight at him in spite of the crowd of light elves that had gathered at the base of the hill to face him.

Kelnozz's swords were also in hand, and his dripped blood with each step. Upon his face was a look so savage and filled with hatred that several of the light eves quaked with terror. Only fear of what Darakor would do to them should they falter kept them in place. Kelnozz's mercy would be a quick death; Darakor knew no mercy.

Kelnozz blurred into action, moving and striking so quickly that none stood a chance in his path. In moments 4 light elves were mortally wounded or already dead. Two threw down their swords and made to flee, but that merely ensured they were cut down from behind by his blades. Every time a light elf felt certain he was about to score a hit on the as yet unthroned King of the Elves, he was denied that victory by a last second parry or a nimble dodge that seemed impossible to make. Kelnozz was an instrument of vengeance and death, more in tune with his blades then ever he had been.

At last, after a battle in which he had been outnumbered a dozen to one, Kelnozz stood alone at the base of the hill. It had taken only a matter of minutes. Fresh blood dripped from his face, clothes, and weapons. None of it was his.

"You look a little different since last we met, father," Darakor said easily, taunting him. If Kelnozz's display of swordsmanship worried him, he did not show it.

Alesha gasped. Deep within her came that nagging sensation again. She wanted to cry out a warning to Kelnozz. Darakor was cheating, she knew it! He was a powerful wizard as well as a master swordsman, surely he was unconcerned because he had magic at his aid as well.

Hundreds of feet away Kelnozz knew nothing of Alesha's premonition. His entire being was focused on the undeniable urge to kill the thing before him. He put his first foot upon the hill and began the ascent up the gradual slope. Darakor took a few steps down towards him, moving with a fluidity and grace that was so natural it was clearly unnatural. Kelnozz lunged forward charging his son with a murderous intent.

The suddenness of the assault caught Darakor by surprise. The spell he had been about to invoke died upon his lips. He raised his blades and parried away Kelnozz's assaults with seeming ease. He moved more rapidly then Kelnozz and his arms were further empowered by his magic, matching his mentor's strength as well.

"Wow," Bill said, leaning against the counter as he watched out the window with his companions.

The two combatants went back and forth, Kelnozz on the offensive at first while Darakor merely sought to prevent any injury to himself. His enhanced reflexes and strength of arm served him well, preventing Kelnozz from scoring any hits upon him. Kelnozz's swordplay was a step above perfect, preventing Darakor with no opportunity to riposte or turn the tide of battle. In spite of it, Darakor seemed unworried.

Nearby fighting amongst the two forces slowed and halted as they watched the two skilled warriors do battle. They circled around the tree time and again, steel ringing against steel. No fancy wasted moves on acrobatics or gymnastics, the two warriors knew their trade better then perhaps any on all of Viconia and knew the first one to alter his technique would be the first one to offer the other one an opening.

The front door to the building they took shelter in burst in suddenly, drawing all their surprised attention towards it. The demon that had accosted them before tried to scramble up from the ground, but it seemed as though its legs would not respond to its demands. It howled angrily and tried to crawl through the room towards the back door. In walked Garrick, hands clenched into fists.

He grabbed the demons leg and yanked it back towards him with one arm. The demon, only marginally smaller then the warhorse the Queen had ridden, howled as it was pulled back. Garrick placed his hand between two of the short spines coming out of the demon's hunched back and kept it pinned to the ground. He opened his other hand just enough for his hammer to magically reappear in it. A furious look upon his face, he smashed the hammer down, crushing the demon's skull and destroying it once and for all.

Alesha had spared the events no more then a passing glance. Her attention and her heart went to the man on the hillside. Darakor finally gained an advantage, spitting out single arcane word that seemed to have no effect. It's use became apparent a moment later when Darakor's parry sent one of Kelnozz's blades into the side of the redwood they circled. The sword had only brushed the bark of the tree with the flat of the blade, but it stuck to it for a long heartbeat before Kelnozz's strength yanked it free. That heartbeat was enough for Darakor to turn the momentum, however.

Darakor lashed out, nicking Kelnozz with his lesser sword. He cut through the fine chain shirt the dark elf wore and cut a shallow furrow along the man's muscled stomach. Kelnozz ignored the sting of the injury but could not ignore the significance of the first blood being drawn. He was on the defensive now.

Darakor's blows rained down upon him, sword stroke after stroke. The light elf's wrath seemed furious, and no matter how perfectly timed and angled each parry our counter was on Kelnozz's part, the next one came in just as inhumanly fast as the one before. The battle raged on for several minutes in this fashion, with neither combatant showing signs of tiring in spite of the rigorous exercise.

"Damn that fool elf," Garrick growled, coming to stand beside the companions and staring out the window. "This isn't his fight!"

All save Alesha turned to look at him in surprise. "What do you mean?" Alesha asked, her voice hollow and distant, though not from her attention still being on the duel.

"Never mind that," Garrick said mysteriously. He glanced at Bill and saw the pale look on the man's face. He nodded briefly. "How you feeling?"

"Ready for a vacation," Bill admitted tiredly.

Garrick laughed loudly and nearly clapped the man on the back appreciatively, until he remembered his injury. Instead he lessened his intended back slap and lightly placed his hand over the injury. Bill gasped at the touch, then his eyes widened in wonder as he felt a soothing warmth spread through it.

The blades had long been a blur two both combatants. Neither really knew where one man's sword ended and the other began, only that they met each other so frequently that they seemed to be one. Kelnozz's attention was entirely focused on the swordplay, so much so that Darakor felt certain he had the upper hand.

"It's the natural order of things, father," Darakor said through quick breaths. His magic sustained him but the exhilaration of the climactic battle was telling on him. "Through natural selection the son never dies before the father. Do you really want to be known as the man who killed his own son?"

Kelnozz growled deep in his throat and launched a flurry of blows. Moving so suddenly from defensive to offensive, he let another of Darakor's blades past his guard. This one stabbed into the outside of his right thigh, providing an injury that was superficial for immediate concerns, but could prove telling in a prolonged engagement.

"Kelnozz looks different then when we last saw him," Yamara offered her opinion, studying the battling dark elf.

"What do you mean?" Alesha asked, suddenly realizing that one of the many things bothering her had just been explained.

"His armor is different, and I can not be sure from this far, but I would swear those are not the swords he wielded when he was in Sanctuary."

Garrick grunted. "The lad was captured, remember? He must have picked those up since he somehow escaped."

Winds picked up and buffeted the building around them. Luingirth landed nearby, a little closer to the building then his initial near-crash landing site, but with plenty of room for his immense wingspan if needed. He glared about at any that might have thought to come near him, then watched the battle with a keen eye.

*****

The hooded figure finished his climb up the treacherous crevice in the cliff face and peered through the line of groomed trees that marked the boundary of Loralost. Elves milled about, light and dark fighting each other as they had been for thousands of years. The man tasted bile in his throat at the site. Loralost was burning, overrun by the hateful light elves.

Further in the distance he saw Luingirth sitting in the middle of the thoroughfare that served as the marketplace for Loralost. The dragon was alone, yet seemed intent on watching something. The man's eyes followed the dragon's and he saw Kelnozz doing battle with Darakor. The distance was great and gusts of smoke occasionally obscured the scene, but their identities were unmistakable.

The man stared at the battle for a long moment, feeling surprise and confusion growing in him. Another feeling emerged, one that had him moving forward before he even realized it. It was a compulsion, something that came from within and without. Something that could not be denied.

*****

Darakor swept Kelnozz's swords aside with a horizontal swipe, then feigned a kick with his foot. Kelnozz dodged to the side, avoiding the kick should it fully materialize but not sacrificing his balance or posture. The defensive move allowed Darakor the chance to utter another quick spell. No more then a cantrip, a wind kicked up and sent swirling ashes and dust at Kelnozz's face.

The distraction, though minimal to the trained warrior, allowed Darakor a chance to bring one sword in to part the links of chain on Kelnozz's arm and score a moderately deep wound along the length of his forearm. Kelnozz gritted his teeth and used the strike Darakor had made as a distraction, twisting around in feigned pain then completing the turn and slashing brutally at Darakor's chest.

Surprised by the move, Darakor narrowly blocked the cut. His haste made him position his sword wrong, however, and Kelnozz's blade deflected high, glancing off of the side of Darakor's head with the flat of the blade. Darakor grunted and stumbled backwards, very briefly stunned by the unexpected hit.

All of the watchers, save Garrick, felt their breath taken away by the display of swordsmanship. With Darakor momentarily stunned his concentration slipped and the spells he was maintaining to hasten his arms and boost his strength and stamina collapsed. Kelnozz was there, ignoring the blood running down his arm and the numbness in his hand. The sword he held still moved as he directed it, that was all he needed.

His face twisted into a mask of hatred, Kelnozz advanced quickly and thrust his swords out in a double plunge towards Darakor's chest. Darakor fell back, stumbling on a root of the great tree. One sword he brought across, trying to parry aside both blades. His unexpected fall to the ground caused his sword to miss both of Kelnozz's blades. Darakor's fall also prolonged his life, for the tips of Kelnozz's swords pierced into him near his collar bone, causing him considerable discomfort but offering no life threatening injury.

Kelnozz happened to glance up, his gaze drawn by an outside influence he could not name. He saw the cloaked man striding towards him, his face concealed by the hood. Kelnozz found himself trapped staring at the man, unable to explain why he found him so interesting.

Darakor, unknowing of what was going on, seized the sudden lack of action on Kelnozz's part and brought the sword that he had missed the parry with across, hacking into Kelnozz's thigh crudely. Kelnozz gasped and stumbled back, his leg giving out on him. Darakor rolled to his feet and followed him, his back to the mysterious figure he did not know even existed.

"Help him!" Alesha screamed at Garrick. With Kelnozz on the ground and seriously wounded, her feelings of helplessness were greater then ever.

Garrick offered no response. He watched the battle impassively. Alesha saw his lack of action and turned back to the window. Her panic overtook her. She could accept making a mistake herself and losing any chance at Kelnozz, but she could not handle the idea of something taking Kelnozz from her.

Alesha reached inside of herself, seeking that hidden thing that she had sensed before. The consequences of her actions eluded her, she knew only that unless somebody did something, Kelnozz would die. That somebody happened to be her.

It was only Garrick's hand upon her shoulder that kept Alesha from reaching the point of no return. She was on the verge of finding the hidden thing within her that she sought. It felt to her like a name or a memory on the tip of her tongue but just out of her reach. She needed to stumble across only one memory to remind her of what she needed to do.

Alesha spun back to face Garrick, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. He spoke to her softly and warmly, a tone which seemed strange to come from him. "This is his fight, lass, it is not for us to interfere."

"Bullshit," Bill said, watching the exchange. He turned the window and raised his reloaded crossbow. He started to take aim when he felt Garrick grab him around the neck with a single massive hand.

"I have had enough of your foolishness!" The former God said. He easily picked Bill up by the neck with one hand and twisted him away from the window. Bill gasped for breath and let the crossbow hang limply from his right hand. Garrick held him up so that his head was less then a foot from the ceiling. Bill remembered his crossbow and brought it over. Blindly he pulled the release on it, sending the bolt thudding into Garrick's muscled abdomen at point blank range.

Garrick cursed at him and, still using only the one arm, threw him across the room. Bill hit the far wall squarely with his back, knocking not only the wind from him but also his wits for a long moment. He looked back to see Garrick grab onto the half buried quarrel in his belly and yank it straight out. He grit his teeth and glared at where Bill lay crumpled against the wall. He threw the bolt aside and turned back to the window, the wound already closing and the blood flow ceasing. Bill lay dazed, the pain in his back all but healed but the rest of him aching now.

Cirithallion, in Darakor's other hand, thrust forward, sinking without hesitation into Kelnozz's chest. Armor, muscle, and bone did little to slow the passage of the magical blade. Kelnozz gasped, knowing the fight was lost. He weakly swatted one of his swords at Darakor, but the blade ineffectually slapped against the bracer on Darakor's arm. The wound, already mortal simply by the nature of several inches of steel being imbedded in his most vital of areas, drained the strength and life from him even faster thanks to Cirithallion's power. Darakor's sneer turned to a condescending smile as the energy flowed into him and repaired the wounds Kelnozz's swords had dealt him.

Nearly spent, Kelnozz looked past Darakor to the mysterious stranger that walked unmolested through the war zone. He was on the edge of the hill at that point and ascending it with long strides concealed by the cloak. Darakor saw Kelnozz's attention was not directed at him. He pulled Cirithallion free and spun about, anticipating anything but that which he saw.

The stranger stopped and beheld the spectacle before them. His compulsion had lessened, now that Kelnozz lay dying upon the roots of the tree. The hooded man reached up, his hand indicating by its long slender dark skinned fingers that he was a dark elf. He undid the clasp on the cloak at his neck and with a twist and a shrug of his shoulders the cloak flew through the air and landed on the ground.

Alesha beheld the scene through blurry vision from tears in her eyes. She was helpless. She had been on the verge of losing herself and Garrick had pulled her back. Now that she had returned, she numbly wondered if it might have been better had she lost herself. When the extra person arrived on the hill she blinked rapidly, a familiar feeling coming over her. With his cloak floating through the air in a timeless moment to reveal gleaming mithril chain mail, everyone gasped in amazement. Everyone except Garrick, of course.

Darakor spun around to where Kelnozz lay on the ground, the glazed look in his eyes showing he had scant moments of consciousness remaining. The blood had already stopped pumping from his wound, now it flowed only weakly. Darakor turned back and saw Kelnozz standing in front of him in full magnificent battle garb befitting a king. Not just a king, but the King of the Dark Elves.

"How is this possible?" Darakor spat out, furious. The satisfaction he had felt at killing his father had left him. In its place was anger at the denial of his victory. Even now his mind struggled through the greatest of magics he knew of and could come up with no explanation for what was happening.

"One last time, let us fight together," Kelnozz said, leaving Darakor's question unanswered. In truth, he had no idea of how it was possible either. The now dead body laying behind Darakor was him, as far as he could tell. Kelnozz hoped it was not an omen of how he would fair against Darakor.

Darakor snarled. Faint memories stirred in his head, memories of things Narellin had once known. Darakor backed away, swords held defensively in front of him. A quick glance around showed him that his soldiers were evenly matched against the dark elves of Loralost. His power was weakened from fighting the first Kelnozz, and sure that damned interfering Garrick would be here as well. Darakor spat out an oath in outrage.

"Soon enough, father. I have killed you once now, I will let you decide when I kill you again!" He slammed his swords into their scabbards and incanted a quick spell. Kelnozz rushed forward, but Darakor disappeared before he could close the final distance.

Chapter 32

"Ha!" Garrick said, clapping Alesha and Yamara on the back. Bill had picked himself up and came back to watch the final confrontation between Darakor and Kelnozz. He shot Garrick a murderous look but was in no condition to act on it. Kelnozz merely stood there staring at what appeared to be his own slain body for a moment.

"Stay here," Garrick told them, turning and heading out the doorway.

Those closest of both forces that had seen the battle were only now coming to terms with it. With Darakor's retreat the light elves began to waver. Some turned to flee and were cut down. Others fought on, either out of a continued hatred or for simple fear that to do anything else would be suicidal. The lizardmen that still lived began a silent retreat wherever possible, fleeing back to the magical gate that connected Mezarbolle with Loralost. The demons, no longer under the control of the fleeing snake-man priests, attacked wherever and whenever they might, killing and maiming with abandon.

Kelnozz turned and saw Garrick emerging from the building. He walked towards him glancing around at the battling elves and quickening his step with each passing moment. Garrick stopped and opened his mouth, grinning widely, but was left surprised and mute when Kelnozz continued past him, nearly at a trot himself. He turned, an intrigued look upon his face and followed after Kelnozz.

Kelnozz entered the store and quickly surveyed the people within. His eyes paused at Alesha, studying her intently for a moment. His expression remained unreadable, leaving her holding her breath and wondering. Next he saw Queen Galinia's body. His eyes lingered on her and his breath briefly caught in his throat. Then he moved on, coming to rest on Elvanshalee.

"I need your help," he stated.

Elvanshalee nodded slowly. He turned and walked back out, with her following him after a moment. "You came to me claiming to want to help restore the peace between the elves. Is this still your goal?"

Elvanshalee nodded again. "It is."

"I need a distraction," he began. "Something that will get their attention and stop the fighting. Then I need to be able to be heard by all of them. Can you do this?"

Elvanshalee thought for a moment. Amplifying Kelnozz's voice would prove no problem. Providing a distraction like he wanted, on the other hand, could be. "Yes, I think I can."

"Do it."

*****

The battles were smaller as the dark elves overcame their light elven cousins and retook their city. Light elves were routing or fighting to the death, with more of the latter then the former. A great peal of thunder sounded over the battlefield then, making everyone, friend and foe alike, duck and look up. Kelnozz, now easily a hundred feet tall, stood in the middle of Loralost and looked down upon the combatants.

"Darakor has betrayed you and fled! Your leader and your cause are lies," Kelnozz's immense voice bellowed to be heard by all within a mile. "Throw down your weapons and you will be shown mercy. Repent your hatred and the lie that your ancestors have given you. I offer this opportunity once and once only. Flee or fight and you will be slain."

Kelnozz's gaze carried over the battlefield, seeming to peer at each and every person, dark and light elf alike. Then he shrank, returning to his normal size. Or at least the illusion Elvanshalee's magic had crafted did.

While significant, the number of light elves that surrendered their weapons was still in the minority. Some of them were slain by their own more zealous brothers, others chose the lull in the action to flee. The remaining, perhaps half of the light elves still present, continued to fight. Raised since birth through lies and deception to hate their dark skinned cousins, they thought of mercy at their hands was impossible, unless as a slave.

Kelnozz returned to the building in which Galinia lay. He walked up to her body and studied her carefully. He brushed his hand over her face, closing her eyelids. The last of his family now lay dead, even if she had married into it. The name Risingmoon was on the verge of becoming extinct.

"She said she was sorry," Alesha said softly, coming up beside him. "She said they had to make sure the elves had a ruler, and that you were never to have known."

Kelnozz glanced at her, instantly making the connection between what she spoke of and the doppelganger of himself that Darakor had seen. "What was it?" he asked her, equally softly. All of the anger that had sustained him throughout was just beneath the surface, his calm demeanor had threatened to crack many times. In spite of it, he was growing tired. So much hatred took a toll on a man, be he human or elf.

"I don't know, she didn't tell us. But I think he was you."

Kelnozz grunted. The Queen was dead. His Queen. His aunt. Kelnozz felt no sadness, only a hollow pit in his stomach. The pit slowly grew warmer as the implications settled onto his shoulders. He did not want her final gift to him.

Kelnozz turned and headed for the door. Garrick stopped him with his hand resting on Kelnozz's shoulder. Kelnozz glared at him for a long minute.

"You're alive, elf, be thankful!" Garrick consoled. "Most men would give anything to be in your shoes. To be a king."

Kelnozz bristled at his words. He reached up and brushed Garrick's hand off his shoulder. Wordlessly he proceeded out of the room. Garrick called after him, stopping him briefly. "Remember that things could be worse. You could be him," Garrick said, motioning towards Kelnozz's clone who lay dead on the field.

Pausing in the doorway Kelnozz glanced over to where Garrick had indicated. He fought down a shudder within him and whispered, "You're wrong, I was him." With that he was gone. Out the door and quickly striding across the marketplace to the north.

Alesha watched him with a pained expression. She looked around and saw everyone either studiously trying to pretend to not be interested in Kelnozz's words and actions, or intently rapt upon them. She felt torn. She needed to be with him so badly right then, and she suspected he could use her company as well, but perhaps she was wrong. Then there was still the feeling of betrayal at learning of the light elf, Jethallin. Perhaps Kelnozz held no love for her anymore. That fear alone kept her in place, her legs as rock, unwilling to move.

"Go to him, lass, if ever there was a time, now be it," Garrick said, his deep voice shocking her out of her paralysis. She rushed out the door at just shy of a run, heading after him.

Bill moved to follow, his concern for her well being overruling his common sense. Garrick's hand caught him by the back of his shirt, lifting him up easily into the air with one hand again.

"What say you and I have a talk?" Garrick said, setting the man down and gesturing out the door so that they might walk and talk with some privacy. Bill glared at him and wished again that he had saved his M4 and a few bullets. Quite a few, in fact, just to be sure. In the end he grunted and headed out, granting Garrick the chance to have his discussion.

"What about us?" Elvanshalee asked Yamara. The two were alone in the room.

Yamara stared at the dead queen a long moment, lost in introspection. "I'm not sure. I'm not usually on this side of things."

Elvanshalee raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. "Well then, let us help, whatever my kin do, there are lizardmen and demons still running amok that must be dealt with. It seems you and I stand a good chance of helping with them."

Yamara nodded. Fighting the demon earlier had taxed her strength, then helping Bill had drained her more, but the turn of events and the seeming finally of all that was taking place had revived her somewhat. She felt ready to experiment with her re-found powers some more. Briefly, thoughts of Keeden flitted through her mind. She remembered what the things he could do and suspected that, with time and practice, she would be his equal or more. More since she possessed Brina's final gift to her that seemed to aid her. Then she remembered how he had died and she suffered a brief moment of shame. Helping Bill was only the first of many debts she needed to repay.

Chapter 33

Alesha found Kelnozz north of Loralost a few miles, sitting with his back to a rock on the side of a craggy hill, pondering Cirithallion silently. He held the drawn sword upright and was staring a the fine craftsmanship of the weapon, from the pommel, hilt, and quillions all the way up to the tip of the blade.

He spun his head to stare at her quickly, making her stop with her heart suddenly in her throat. He shook his head free of whatever thoughts had been in it and stood up to face her. Alesha hesitantly walked forward towards him, unable to gauge his mind by his expression.

"I left no trail, how did you find me?"

"I just did," she answered, looking behind her at the invisible path she had not realized she was walking. "I saw no signs but felt that you were up here."

"I thought your magic was gone."

Alesha recoiled at his statement. It was so calm and tired sounding. But what had surprised her the most was that he already knew it was gone.

"How do you know?" She asked in a stunned whisper.

Kelnozz gave her a weak smile. "I see and I hear. Easy enough to figure out from that."

Alesha nodded, fighting off a sudden wetness in her eyes that threatened to overwhelm her. "What now, Kel?" she asked him softly. In truth she was afraid to hear the answer.

"Now I go to Ancaruin," he said bitterly. "And when I return, I accept the crown."

Alesha gasped. "No! You can't!"

"Why not?" Kelnozz asked, eyeing her carefully. She reminded him so much of the young girl that had been summoned into his life so many centuries before by means of a dreadful miracle. So much that it hurt.

"Ancaruin is more powerful now then ever!" She pleaded. "You'll die, no one can stand against him!"

Kelnozz smiled again. "I won't be alone, child. Garrick will come, as will Luingirth. We three shall have to be enough."

"Then I'm coming too! I served him once, I can help you defeat him!" Alesha insisted.

Kelnozz smiled sadly. "Very well," he said, and turned away from her to look down the hillside at the miles of treetops beyond.

Alesha moved closer, until she was only inches from his back. She touched his shoulder gently. "Just like that, you're not going to tell me to stay behind or anything?"

"Everyone deserves to right to choose their own course. I shall not deny you the path you feel is yours."

"And what of Darakor?" Her tone was soft and nervous. She feared the answer almost as much as she feared not hearing it. Thoughts and dreams of Kelnozz were what had made the years passable in the Tavern, even if she had no realized it until that very moment. Yet Darakor was the result of the union of Kelnozz and another woman, an elf. An elf that still lived. What could Alesha hope to offer to compete with an immortal wife that could also bear Kelnozz children.

Kelnozz sighed and remained silent for a long moment. "Darakor is not your true question, is it?"

Alesha shook her head and offered him a thin smile. "Not really."

Kelnozz nodded. "Jethallin is dead, Alesha. I watched Darakor kill her himself."

Alesha was shocked. Darakor had slain his mother? What sort of a monster would do such a thing? Then Alesha remembered the fate of her own parents. She remembered and she felt something inside of her shrink and try to hide. Her face flushed and tears came to her eyes. She shook her head and fought back the repressed memories.

"Jethallin saved Nordan and I after we dispatched that blue dragon lord you used to be friends with, remember him?" Alesha nodded, eyes cast downwards to hide her face. Kelnozz gently reached out an raised her face so that she would look at him.

"What happened was a one time thing. There was something special about her, something unique. I don't know how she could be so different from other light elves, but it seems that the same oddity runs strong in her daughter."

"What of her son?"

"I hoped for that, but apparently it is not the case. He told me many things when I was his prisoner in Mezarbolle. Things that he could not know except that he learned them from his father," Kelnozz explained.

"Narellin!" Alesha hissed, remembering the devilish wizard clearly.

"Aye, Narellin. Darakor had slain him and usurped his position. Then Darakor insured that Ancaruin would be resurrected. And now Darakor seeks what you once sought."

"To rule the world," Alesha whispered. Kelnozz nodded.

"More, eventually. Such a thirst for power can never be slaked. He will want more then the world, in time."

"And what about me? After. Will there ever be a place for me in your heart again?"

Kelnozz turned to her and smiled. It was a real smile, but it was a sad one as well. "Ever there will be, Alesha. But my fate does not allow for a human, no matter what her history, to share it. Jethallin was special and unique and we shared one another briefly, but it was only that, a brief crossing of ways. What has happened to her was a terrible injustice, a sign of what happens to those who's paths I cross and care for. I will forever seek to protect you and do what is best for you, but that is all I can give you."

The tears finally came to Alesha's eyes, she could deny them no longer. Kelnozz reached out to her and pulled her closer to him, hugging her against him in an almost uncharacteristic moment of sensitivity. Alesha clung to him and let her tears flow. That was it then, it was done. A weight lifted from her shoulders even as her heart sank in her chest.

"Do me one last favor," she whispered into his ear. Kelnozz nodded separating them only enough so that they could see each others faces while they talked.

"Love me," she whispered again, leaning forward and closing her eyes. Their lips touched and the years of separation fell away from them. In moments that last a millennium and were over all to quickly, they spoke only with their bodies.

Their armor and clothing hit the floor in ground in disorganized heaps, all attention focused entirely upon one another. Kelnozz picked Alesha up and carried her up the rocky slope to a shade tree under which an expanse of soft growth provided a bed for them. Laying her upon it, he devoted attention to her body with his mouth, kissing, sucking, nipping, and licking wherever he could. Her neck and shoulders and then breasts he devoted special attention to, making her gasp at the sensations and arch her back into him for more contact. Kelnozz only moved on at his own pace, driving her crazy with her raging need she had carried stored up within her for decades.

He descended further, trailing butterfly kisses along her ribs and her belly, making her squirm in anticipation. His long slender figures, callused and rough with a lifetime of handling a sword, scratched lightly along the inside of her thighs. She opened her legs to him, pushing and pulling with her hands on his shoulders to make him arrive at his destination. After an eternity of blissful torture he arrive, gently licking and stroking the core of her being, igniting the nerves and making her body convulse with each deft stroke of his tongue.

Alesha shuddered over and over again. Within seconds she was at the edge. Kelnozz brought her over gently, licking her clit in a rhythm with her heartbeat, causing her to explode time and again against him. Only his incredible strength kept her from crushing him with her thighs as she spasmed against him.

As Alesha came down from her orgasm she pulled Kelnozz up towards her. He slid up her body fluidly and embraced her, kissing her deeply. Alesha took in his kisses with a fervor that was impossible for most mortals given the power of the climax she had endured. Nonetheless, she showed some of her prior strengths by tapping into her own adrenaline and lust to suck hungrily at Kelnozz's tongue and lips, tasting herself on him and feeling her libido driven to new heights by it quickly.

Alesha could feel Kelnozz's hardness against her leg, throbbing hotly against her. She wanted so badly to feel him in her again and to never let go. But first she had to taste him again, to remember fully what it was like and to commit it to memory. She slid down his body, pausing briefly along the way to leave a trail of kisses. When she reached her goal she eyed his manhood briefly, taking it in with a trained eye. She was filled with great happiness and sorrow simultaneously, but for the time being, she was solely focused on making this an encounter neither would forget.

Her tongue gingerly reached out and licked the head of his shaft, digging gently into the slit and tasting the pre-cum that was beginning to gather. Above her somewhere she heard Kelnozz groan. He had apparently forgotten the heights of pleasure she could drive him too. Alesha's hands began to work then, caressing the shaft of his cock with one and fondling his testicles with the other. Her tongue swirled around the head, digging in for the treasure of the pearl drops that would slowly form.

Alesha surprised herself and Kelnozz then. With no magic to aid her anymore, she nevertheless aligned her throat with her mouth and with a well timed swallow, sank down completely on him. The dark elf shuddered at the sensations of her tight throat massaging his cock, her rhythmic swallowing milking the seed from him. He groaned and clenched his teeth and fists, trying to deny the powerful urge she was putting into him.

After a few moments Alesha relented, popping up and off of him so that she could take a breath. She smiled victoriously and winked at Kelnozz, who watched her with lust glazed eyes. Her tongue lolled out sensuously and with the tip of it she rimmed the head of his shaft, again driving into the slit for a more copious amount of pre-cum. She pulled away slowly, letting a strand of it grow between her mouth and his dick. Kelnozz shook his head briefly to free him of his stupor and he grabbed her none to gently by the shoulders. Alesha grinned and let him pull her up.

She settled on top of him and, neither of them interested in waiting any longer, they crashed into each other. Kelnozz plunged deeply into her on his first thrust, making her gasp at the forgotten sensation. Bill had been a good sized man, but she had been in possession of her magic then and able to take virtually anything in her. Now she had no magic and Kelnozz's full length and girth was nearly half again what Bill had given her. She convulsed on top of him, shuddering as mini-orgasm raced through her body.

Kelnozz reveled in the sensation of her velvet pussy clutching and sucking at him. It felt incredible to be fully inside of her, no matter how many times he had done it in the past and no matter how many times he had lain with other women, there would be only one Alesha. No others could match her, even without the dark magic to aid her.

They began anew then, crashing into each other fiercely and rapidly. They grunted and moaned, lost in their lovemaking. Each thrust a little bit further apart, until after several minutes Alesha rose so far up on him that his glistening cock pulled free of her inviting sheath. She sank back down instantly, eager to be impaled again, but it had slipped just enough so that it speared into her rectum instead.

Alesha was so relaxed and crazed with lust that the pain did not register at first. The head was past her tight ring of muscle before she realized what had happened. Kelnozz gasped in time with her, such a sudden forceful intrusion was not without discomfort for man or woman. Kelnozz tried to back out but Alesha bore down on him, grinning fiercely.

"Make love to me everywhere, lover! I want you to own me in all ways today, if it can not be forever!"

Kelnozz growled and reversed his movement, thrusting up into her. The juice from her pussy had coated him well enough and had run down the crack of her ass enough to provide them with natural lubrication for their sodomy. Alesha growled and pounded down on him rougher and rougher with each thrust, trying to sink impossible amounts of him into her bowels in spite of the sheer impossibility of it.

So into their actions did they get again that Kelnozz popped free of her once more. Alesha crashed down quickly, making him glance off her perineum and crushing his rigid pole against his belly. Kelnozz ignored the pain and laughed heartily. He let his hands grab her hips more firmly and he rolled them over.

With Kelnozz now on top he slid back into her pussy, which was wetter then ever. Controlling the action he slid into her long and deep, stroking the inside of her with every thrust. Alesha groaned and felt herself beginning to peak. Kelnozz stayed with her, shifting forward so that his pubic bone ground against her clitoris while his manhood continued to thrust inside of her.

That proved to be the last straw for Alesha. She grabbed onto his back and pulled her onto him with all of her strength, crushing him to her. Her pussy constricted around Kelnozz, taking on a life of it's own. Alesha rode the waves of pleasure rushing out from their union, feeling them multiplied tenfold when Kelnozz's shaft suddenly stiffened and swelled within her then exploded, filling her with his cum.

After long moments of shared breathlessness, both began to come down. Neither moved, for Kelnozz was still fully rigid inside of her. Alesha smiled lazily and kissed him, holding him tightly against her. Kelnozz returned her kiss and was content to remain as they were, savoring in the afterglow. The days events, indeed the events of the past few centuries, were dull background noise to him right now. Alesha was a cure for depression, if nothing else!

At long last, though Kelnozz's second brain refused to cooperate, the elf started to uncouple from her. Alesha let him, for well over ten minutes had passed and she had felt something spark within her at their shared climax. It was unlike any of her powers before, with Bavorish as her benefactor. It was good and wholesome and promised a new beginning for her.

Kelnozz admired Alesha openly as he stood up, impressed every time he saw her body on display for him. Alesha winked at him and smiled seductively. She rose up to her knees and caressed his legs on her way up. She stopped at his crotch, as he somehow knew she would do. His manhood was still erect and turgid, as well as covered in both their spendings.

Alesha licked out again, tasting their combined juices. Her tongue lapped hungrily at him, then her lips followed. In moments she was all the way down on him again, inciting the same lustful thoughts he had only just gotten rid of anew in him. Kelnozz let her have her way this time, with her bringing him up and down he roller-coaster ride of impending orgasm. Her hands caressed, stroked, fondled, pinched, and even tickled at all the right times. As Kelnozz already knew, there was only one with her skills in all of Viconia. His future elven wife, whoever she might be, would be dull in comparison.

And then it was time. Kelnozz grunted and gushed forth the last of his cum into her greedy mouth. It took five full spurts and then a few hearty sucks from Alesha to drain him completely dry, but then Kelnozz had to reach for the tree they were under to steady himself. Alesha savored the taste of him in her mouth, swallowing him down slowly to remember every nuance of it. Then she too stood up.

"Thank you, my love," she said to him, embracing him again. Kelnozz returned her embrace, regretting the path that he was forced to follow more seriously now then ever he had before. He even considered, for a fraction of a moment, abandoning it all. Leaving his people behind, even all of Viconia. But in the end, he was too saddled with responsibility. Kelnozz had a job to do, and history had shown that no one else was capable of it if he did not.

"Come, queen who can not be, let us return. Tomorrow will be a day of reckoning."

Chapter 34

The elves assembled in the marketplace courtyard, the low murmur of their voices showing their curiosity. They had worked late into the night, assembling the dead and burning them on a large pyre. Light and dark elf alike were disposed of thusly. The majority of the real work had yet to be done.

And instead of working, they were waiting. Word had been spread that Kelnozz would address them all. It was common knowledge that he was the as yet uncrowned King. Yamara and Elvanshalee moved next to Bill in the crowd and offered him a friendly smile. Bill returned it good naturedly.

"You survived your talk with Garrick?" Yamara prompted him.

Bill sighed. "I guess he's not such a bad guy," he offered.

Yamara smirked. "Sounds like there's a story there."

Before Bill could respond Kelnozz walked across the flagstones and set foot upon the mound that led to the redwood that marked the fight between Darakor and Kelnozz, or rather Darakor and the magically created clone of Kelnozz that the Queen's wizards had created to insure that the elves had an heir. The elves fell quiet as he ascended the rise.

Kelnozz beheld the tree briefly, noting in particular the dark stain upon its trunk and roots where Darakor's blood had stained it. He turned away from it and faced the elves.

"Let the differences between us be forgotten," Kelnozz called out loudly and clearly. "We were once one people, let it happen again."

"Some of us leave now for a final confrontation with our most ancient of enemies. Stay true to our course here, rebuild what was so that what we once had can be ours again. All of us."

Kelnozz paused and took a deep breath. He turned to where Garrick waited with a lit torch at the base of the hill and nodded to him. Garrick solemnly walked up the hill with his massive stride eating up the distance in no time.

"This tree, one of our mightiest redwoods that has been alive since the beginning of Loralost, has been tainted with the curse of kinslaying. It ends here. Let any elf who would slay another out of greed, lust, or avarice know only fear and denial, for they earn my wrath and the wrath of Innowendyn!"

Kelnozz turned and threw the torch at the base of the tree. The torch itself was made from a short spear coated with wrappings soaked in oil. The hurled spear stuck deeply into the trunk. The flames exploded onto the tree, leaping out and racing up it. In moments the tree was a blazing inferno, sending waves of heat into the furthest ranks of the onlookers.

"One final thing shall mark this occasion," Kelnozz said loudly, his voice carrying over the crackling tree. "Upon my return I shall accept both my coronation and a bride to show the change we elves must make to survive in this modern world. Our world."

Kelnozz was no more forthcoming with information. He turned and walked away, leaving the elves quietly pondering the meaning of his words and the significance of the tree that burned more brightly then the sun.

"Come on," Bill said, motioning towards the direction Kelnozz had gone.

They followed him, wondering what was going on. When they were out of the crowd Elvanshalee gave voice to her thoughts, "Is this it then?"

Bill grunted. "I don't know about you, but I'm in so far over my head that trying to get out now would be a waste of fucking time."

Bill had a way with words and an ability to state the obvious in a way that he could not refute. The walked on, their pace brisk. Several minutes later they neared the northern edges of Loralost. Gathered together were those who had become their companions: Garrick, Kelnozz, and Alesha.

"Where we go you stand little chance of returning," Kelnozz said, seeing them approach.

"They will come," Garrick said smugly. He eyed Bill with an appraising eye. Yamara and Elvanshalee could tell that the mountainous man seemed to have a new opinion of his friend.

"Fuckin-a right we are," Bill seconded, grinning.

"This is not your fight to be concerned with," Kelnozz said. "Your involvement has ended, you should return to your own world."

"Guess what, I lost my best friend in two worlds to this fuck-stick, if you think there's a snowball's chance in Hell that I'm not going to do everything my power to fuck him up then I'll start with you first," Bill vowed, hand on his axe handle for effect. He knew he stood no chance against Kelnozz, but it was a matter of principle he would not stand down from.

"What of you? You are not of this world, your destiny is not wrapped up in this," Kelnozz was speaking to Yamara.

Yamara glanced around, seeming at a loss briefly for all the attention give to her. She rose to the occasion. "I'd like to see it to the end," she explained. She opened her mouth to say more but could not find the right words. Eventually she just shrugged and said, "I've got some outstanding debts to pay back too."

Kelnozz looked at each of them expressionlessly for a moment, weighing them in his mind. Finally he nodded and turned, finding their resolve and spirit strong enough to face the challenge ahead of them. Whether their flesh would echo with that same strength he did not know.

"North then, the portal to Mezarbolle remains open. Luingirth holds it so."

*****

"Kelnozz returned with that damned fool friend of his, Garrick!" Darakor spat out, his anger at his defeat making him forget he was in the presence of Ancaruin. "I shall marshal all the elves and destroy them all! Come with me, My Lord, I beseech you! With you there none will be able to stand in our way!"

"Enough of this, fool elf," Ancaruin responded, fixing him with a baleful glare. "My time draws nigh! You're petty troubles are no matter to me, do what you will!"

Darakor's shock overrode his anger. He stumbled back a few steps from the force of the vehemence in Ancaruin's ethereal voice. "What do you mean, Great One? What time do you speak of?"

"I created this world, it will be mine again! You shall not no my rage only because it was your hatred and betrayal that made it possible for Garrick to come forth and my ascension be possible."

Ancaruin's infernal gaze held him captive for a moment longer and then he was gone, rushing up out of the chamber to the distant opening far above. Darakor, no longer held in thrall by the dragon's gaze, fell on his butt. He glanced around at the priests and soldiers that had also witnessed the display and saw shock, confusion, and fear on their faces. He knew his mirrored theirs.

Darakor regained his feet and walked out of the cave. On the way he cuffed a soldier to get his attention and sent him off at a run to marshal the garrison of Mezarbolle. Ancaruin had deserted him, but he would have his vengeance regardless!

*****

Scattered around the magical rift in the midst of a small clearing were the remains of a small army of light elves. The bodies had been disposed of, yet ruined signs of their camp remained. A content looking Luingirth gave them all a good idea of the present location of a great many of the light elves.

Through the portal, as though looking through a film of crystal clear water, could be seen several light elves and lizardmen alike, working furiously to try and close the portal with the dark arts. Luingirth grinned when Yamara looked up at him.

"Never doubt the power of a dragon," he rumbled, winking at her. Yamara felt a chill race down her spine but she did her best to avoid shivering.

"Ready yourself, this is the first and perhaps easiest battle we face today!" Kelnozz warned them. He drew his own blades and was echoed quickly by everyone else readying themselves for the fight.

With no further words or warning, Kelnozz charged forward through the portal. Garrick was a step behind him and Alesha only a pace behind him. Bill and Yamara glanced at each other and then Bill ran forward.

"Melurian!" Kelnozz called out as one of his blades cut a light elf in two from neck to rib cage. "Basilor!" Was his next cry. For every falling of a sword that struck an opponent down he had a name to go with it for a fallen dark elf.

Bill was cranking his crossbow back and, just in time, fired it point blank into the chest of a rushing lizardman with a spiked mace. The bolt slammed home and knocked the snake man off balance so that he crashed into Bill. Bill threw the dying creature off of him and scrambled back to his feet. He had claimed three already with his crossbow, but now was time for the axe. He had felt the crossbow crack when they hit the ground and knew better then to trust his luck.

Alesha's combat routines flowed with much of the style and grace that Kelnozz's did, though she lacked the fluidity, speed, and strength of his dance. Her sword struck true regardless, cutting the untrained priests and wizards apart.

Elvanshalee fought beside her, whipping her staff about and keeping any of their adversaries from surrounding them. A few dead or unconscious light elves and lizardman attested to the strength of her staff when applied directly to the head.

Yamara fought as though she was possessed as well, her lithe form dancing easily around the attacks that came at her and striking back with the speed of a coiled snake. Her mind worked on two levels, one directing her bodies movements and the other telekinetically assisting her defense from the assaults that came at her. She was a sight to behold.

Luingirth came through then, letting the portal snap shut behind him. He walked through on two legs as a man easily a match for Garrick's height and moved off to an open area. Once there he twisted and roared as he resumed his natural shape.

"Time grows short, wyrm," Garrick yelled to Luingirth. He came jogging back from where he had chased down a lizardman and leapt upon its back to bear it to the ground. He held up his hand and there reappeared his hammer. "The hour of ascension is here."

"What's he talking about?" Bill asked. Aside from Garrick they all seemed clueless and no one was forthcoming with information.

Glancing about to the others indicated that all save Kelnozz seemed equally lost. Then Alesha gasped and fell to her knees. Bill and Kelnozz both rushed over to her.

"What's wrong with her?" Bill asked, pulling up short when Garrick's hand fell softly on his shoulder.

"He's calling her," Garrick explained. Kelnozz knelt beside her and caught her up as she collapsed into his arms. He picked her up and stared hard at Garrick.

"What do you know?" He demanded, his voice hard.

"He is calling her back to him, but she fights. So close to him and she still has the strength to deny him," Garrick said softly yet admirably. Then he grinned, "explains why I had so much fun with her back in the old days!"

Elvanshalee sent Garrick a scowl before she went and laid her hands upon Alesha's head where it was cradled against Kelnozz's chest. Her breathing was shallow and she was murmuring softly. Elvanshalee's eyes widened and she backed away.

"She speaks words of power. We must hurry, whatever it is we do, or she will either be lost or destroyed."

"Then come, to Ancaruin's lair!" Kelnozz said, turning to face the great mountain that loomed closest to Mezarbolle. It could be seen clearly over the walls of the palace the rift had deposited them in the courtyard of.

"No," Garrick stated. As one they all turned to face him. "Our path lies that way." Garrick pointed to the north.

"That's the Everthirst!" Elvanshalee snapped, seeing no point in the huge inland sea filled with so much salt that only the hardiest of fish could live in it.

"No, that's the way to the Isle of the Gods," Kelnozz said, his tone distant.

"Ancaruin seeks to become a God."

Kelnozz spun, two daggers already flying through the air. He stepped in front the rest of the group protectively. He had recognized the voice.

Darakor's swords intercepted and deflected the first dagger with ease, the second one slipped through and glanced off the side of his neck, opening a shallow wound. He cursed and stumbled backwards. His swords found their sheaths quickly and he held his hand over his wound to stop the bleeding.

"Welcome to my home, father," Darakor said darkly.

Kelnozz clenched his teeth and advanced. He moved forward slowly but steadily, intent upon overpowering the light elf quickly.

"Hold!" Garrick called out, suddenly beside Kelnozz and restraining him with his hand against his chest. "What of you?" Garrick asked him.

"Ancaruin has abandoned us," Darakor spat out bitterly. "We who brought him back to life and he has forsaken us! Without him my armies have abandoned me."

"How does it feel to be betrayed?" Bill asked, not realizing he was speaking until the words were out of his mouth. He glanced around and saw he had been ignored, thankfully. Almost ignored, that is, for both Kelnozz and Darakor's jaw muscles twitched at the comment.

Elvanshalee had forgotten to breath until that moment. To be within talking distance to her brother, after countless years, caused her no small amount of trepidation. She had rejoiced to hear he had turned their race and joined with Kelnozz, then had been distraught to learn of his second betrayal, bringing him back into the cusp of power amongst the light elves. This time she had no idea what would happen, nor how she truly felt about him.

"If you would stop him, come with us now," Garrick said, staring intently at Darakor.

Both Darakor and Kelnozz spoke at the same time, "What?!" Further comments were muffled as each tried to talk over the over.

Garrick held up his hands at last and silenced them. To Kelnozz he said, "Where we go we need all the skill and strength at arms we can marshall, you both have a common cause, set aside your hatred for a moment and do what is best for this world!"

Garrick held Kelnozz's gaze until Kelnozz finally slammed his swords into his sheathes. His face held nothing less then pure animosity for Darakor, but he would bide his time and wait.

"And you," Garrick said, addressing Darakor, "if you come with us and offer no further betrayal I offer you only the chance to right the wrong you have committed. But know this, should you use treachery upon any of us there is nothing on this world or any other that you can use or do that will protect your from my wrath!"

Darakor stared at Kelnozz, then, after several long moments had passed, smiled wryly. "Let us fight side by side again, father."

Garrick nodded. "It is settled. Now we must go! Make haste, Luingirth, we tarry to long already!"

Luingirth moved over next to them and lowered himself so they could climb upon his back. He, among all of them, was privy to Garrick's confidence at last and knew what it was they had to do.

"What the fuck is going on?" Bill asked, following the exchange with his head looking as though it was following a tennis ball going back and forth across a court.

"The pantheon is full," Elvanshalee explained, putting it together faster then Bill or Yamara. "In order for Ancaruin to ascend to being a God, a spot must be emptied. He seeks to depose Bavorish."

"Sounds great to me," Bill said after he let it sink in and felt he understood it. "I say let 'em fight. Why should it bother us? One evil God either way, right?"

"Because of her," Yamara whispered. She had experience with these sorts of things now. She knew what could happen to those who made pacts with dark powers. "We are here for her now. If we leave, Alesha's soul is lost."

Bill locked gazes with Yamara and felt the sadness there. Sadness so deep and on so many different levels it nearly overwhelmed him. Bill felt his eyes tearing up and finally looked away. "Right, then let's get the fucker," he growled, blinking away the unaccustomed moisture.

Yamara gasped suddenly, prompting everyone to turn in time to see her throw one hand up in the air and glare with a murderously focused intent upon her face. Following her gaze they saw several arrows that were whistling through the air towards them rapidly slow down and then fall to the ground several feet shy of them. Off in the distance orc archers could be seen putting fresh arrow to bow and taking aim again.

Elvanshalee spat out a curse in her native tongue and turned towards the group of 4 orcs. Another wave of arrows came at them and again Yamara stopped them, though they came closer this time and she seemed taxed by the effort. By the time the orcs were ready to fire again Elvanshalee had finished her spell.

A sparkling ball of fire flew from her outstretched palm towards the orcs. They saw it clearly and stood transfixed by it. One turned to run but it was upon them so quickly he had nowhere to go. It detonated in their midst, sending parts of their smoldering bodies hurtling through the air in different directions.

"Let us hurry, more come," Kelnozz hissed, easily carrying Alesha while he nimbly danced up Luingirth's side to the great dragon's back.

"You, worried about orcs and elves?" Garrick scoffed. "Just have the light elf call them off."

"They no longer obey me," Darakor answered sullenly.

Kelnozz smirked in spite of himself. "No, I am worried about her and the delay fighting this rabble would cost us!"

Garrick glanced at the streets around them. In every direction orcs, light elves, lizardmen, ogres, trolls, and other evil humanoids and worse could be seen slowly coming closer. He nodded his head. "Right! You got it in you, old dragon?" Garrick leapt up into the air higher then was possible and with another spring off Luingirth's massive forelimb was upon his back.

"Unlike humans, dragons gain power and strength with age," Luingirth retorted dryly while the rest of them climbed and clambered onto his back as quickly as they could.

A deafening roar from Luingirth kept the now charging humanoids away long enough for the blue to leap into the air and unfold his mighty wings. With three beats of them he sent their would-be attackers to the ground from the force of his winds. When next they could look up Luingirth was just a distant figure in the sky rapidly receding away to the north.

Chapter 35

It had taken them what seemed like hours to reach the Isle of the Gods, though the actual passage of time escaped them. Ahead of them lay a castle made of gleaming metal. The glinting sun off of the castle made it appear as though it was on fire. Little else was on the large island save for the castle, wrought from pure adamantium.

On the shore in front of the gates awaited two beings. Dread and power emanated from them, and only Kelnozz, Luingirth, and Garrick seemed immune as they grew closer. Bill, Elvanshalee, Darakor, and Yamara all gritted their teeth with resolution and leaned forward into it subconsciously, refusing to give in to the shadowy tendrils of fear and hopelessness that assaulted them. Alesha thrashed about in Kelnozz's arms, her murmurings occasionally rising into a sharp cry.

Neither figure moved, though they seemed very intent upon one another. To the left of the gate stood Bavorish, a wavy edged and otherwise lethal looking broadsword in his hand. Ancaruin stood upon the right side of the gate, his shimmering body made up of red mist that glowed with an unholy fury.

Luingirth dove low and leveled out feet above the Everthirst. He flew in quickly, his wingtips only barely clearing the water's surface. Behind them the water swirled and eddied with the assault of the wind.

Then the sandy shore was beneath them. The dragon pulled up quickly and landed, jarring them all with the suddenness of the maneuver. Even before Luingirth had settled fully onto the ground Garrick was off, heading towards the two powerful beings. Kelnozz leapt off himself soon after, cradling Alesha to him as he landed to cushion the blow. He carefully set her down on the ground and moved off after Garrick, blades in his hands already. Darakor was only a moment behind his father, unwilling to be showed up by him.

The rest of them followed suit more slowly. When Bill finally climbed down he pulled the other up short with a gasp. "Look at Garrick!" He said, pointing towards their large companion.

Garrick appeared to be growing with every step. His size had not changed, but something about him indicated enhancement. They could feel strength, and a righteous fury emanating from him every bit as much as fear and terror oozed from Bavorish and Ancaruin. The waves of power crashed against one another and in a few moments they all felt better. They had effectively neutralized each other, leaving them none the worse for wear.

"Bad ass!" Bill commented, now heading forward again. Elvanshalee glanced at him with her head tilted, trying to figure out the odd expression. Not even shrugging she dismissed it and resumed her walk.

Kelnozz came to a stop, Darakor falling in beside him a second later. Garrick continued onward, heading to a place in the middle of the two glaring beings. In moments the rest of the companions fell in beside the two elves.

"Why aren't they fighting?" Elvanshalee asked the grim faced elf king.

"Because they knew we would come," Darakor said.

"Is this a trap?" Yamara hissed, bringing up both her mental and physical defenses.

Kelnozz turned to look a her. He studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing her in a way that few others had ever been able to. He nodded acceptance of her before looking back.

"The pantheon is full," he said. "In order for Ancaruin to ascend someone who already possesses the divine right must be destroyed."

"Right, so why isn't he trying to kill the other guy?" She said, impatient with the reiteration of what they had all been told.

*****

"Knew my boy couldn't have all the fun of slaying you, wyrm!" Garrick called out loudly to Ancaruin, reminding the dragon of when Nordan, Kelnozz, Martin, and the metallic dragons had defeated Ancaruin centuries past. His voice reverberated with power that the watchers could all feel. Ancaruin showed no sign of having heard him, instead the dragon of mist remained glaring with glowing pools of fire at Bavorish.

"And you," Garrick said, turning to Bavorish, "Think not that I have forgotten your challenge to single combat from long ago! Pity Carson took your head before I could!"

Bavorish did show sign of recognition. He sneered and turned his gaze to Garrick. His sharply pointed red goatee and mustache twitched with the gesture. His bastard sword twitched in his hand. He raised his shield slowly to face Garrick and beckoned towards him.

*****

"The Gods may not battle one another. They fight through their worshippers," Kelnozz responded. "To assault a God is to deny your right to live under their guidance. All of them, not just a particular one."

"So Ancaruin waits for us to kill Bavorish?" Yamara asked, grasping the situation.

Elvanshalee gasped. She had figured out what Kelnozz was slowly getting around to telling them. "They will kill Garrick!"

Bill snorted at the absurdity of the situation. At that same time Garrick let fly his hammer. It crashed into Bavorish's shield with force and volume enough to sunder a mountain. When they looked back, their ears still ringing, Bavorish remained standing. His shield was split down the middle and laying at his feet, but he seemed none the worse for wear. Garrick pushed on, summoning his hammer and lifting it to do battle. Bavorish switched to grab his blade in both hands. His sneer remained plastered to his face.

"Garrick gave up his divinity long ago," Bill said, remembering what he had been told and therefore doubting Elvanshalee.

"He possesses much of his former might," Kelnozz confirmed Elvanshalee's suspicions.

Ancaruin let loose a roar then. Not one such as Luingirth might give, but a soulless keening that pierced all of them and chilled them to their bones. He rushed forward, intent on joining the combat and destroying Garrick.

Kelnozz moved then. Moved so quickly and suddenly that only Darakor was able to keep pace with him. The rest were stunned by his explosive action. He bolted forward, the signal he had needed to act had been given. Yamara reached out and read his thoughts that he wore clearly on the surface of his mind for any to see.

"We must help Kelnozz! Ancaruin must not be allowed to help!" She said, moving forward without thought to her actions or the consequences thereof.

"Fight that?" Bill asked, staring at the undulating mist that formed the shape of a dragon.

"Come, human, if you would love her then die for her," Elvanshalee said to him before she too ran forward.

Bill glanced back at where Luingirth towered protectively over Alesha. Protectively or, he realized with a clenching of his stomach, ready to act should she give in to Bavorish. He ran forward too, brandishing his axe and finding himself no longer afraid of what might happen.

*****

Garrick and Bavorish traded strikes mighty enough to fell the greatest of trees in a single blow, yet neither tired of their parries and their wounds healed almost as quickly as they were received. The battle seemed one that would last until the very end of time, so dedicated and mighty were they.

Kelnozz leapt at Ancaruin, slashing into the mist that was his body with his blades extended. Llarothimaril glowed brightly with a white light when it pierced the cloud of smoke. Cirithallion, wielded by Darakor beside him, possessed an unearthly reddish light in contrast. Kelnozz held his ground, cutting deeply with each swing. The mist hissed and was destroyed with passing of Llarothimaril and it clung to Cirithallion as the once evil blade tore the magic that bound it together apart.

Ancaruin turned to behold Kelnozz and glared at him hatefully. "You can not slay me, elf king!" The dragon said in a cold voice that spoke of eternal suffering and torment.

A bolt of lightning stabbed into and through Ancaruin then, disrupting a small amount of the mist but doing little permanent damage in spite of the might of the magical spell Elvanshalee had unleashed. Yamara and Bill were there then as well, cutting through the mist as though it was only air. Bill's axe did nothing but pass through the mist with no effect to it. Yamara's, on the other hand, managed to cause tiny gouts of mist that looked reminiscent of blood with each of her thrusts. They did little damage but the distraction was enough, for now Ancaruin realized that, small and insignificant as they were, the little people that fought him had to be dealt with. Ancaruin recoiled from where he had dropped Darakor to the ground and faced the new threat.

Ancaruin reached for Kelnozz with a ghostly arm, trying to grip him as it might have once done when it was alive. Kelnozz dodged the attack and lashed out at the arm, feeling the unnerving cold of the mist as it narrowly passed him by.

"I need not slay you, only slow you," Kelnozz spat out at Ancaruin.

The undead dragon looked at him, it's fiery red eyes widening at the realization of what they were doing. It roared again it's keening cry and lashed out more furiously. Elvanshalee, who had just finished chanting her next spell that sent a stream of frost into the dragon's flank, was caught unaware by the dragon's swipe. She went down, shivering and struggling to breath as it passed through her and left her physically unharmed. She gasped for breath and tried to raise herself back up, knowing that failure for any of them meant failure for all.

Seeing his sister dropped caused Darakor no emotion whatsoever. She had been gone for too many years and he had never been close to her. To long she had taken after their mother, to long he had seen the weakness within them called compassion. Thus it was that he was not the least bit distracted by her falling, Cirithallion and his twin sword carved into the magic mist that comprised Ancaruin's body.

"And you, elf pawn, you have been my creature from the beginning! Come back to me now!" Ancaruin threw himself onto Darakor, his body to large for the light elf to evade. Darakor was crushed to the ground by the enveloping body. Ancaruin had no physical form of his own, but the magic that bound him to the world of the living struck as though he were made of stone.

Between Garrick and Bavorish, the battle continued. Garrick's strength was greater and his fury stronger. Bavorish had the edge in power, however, and no matter how quickly Garrick's wounds healed, he had given up his right to be a God long ago. Bavorish healed faster. His strength would not fail. And he could do little things like summoning up the wind to stir the sand up and around Garrick so quickly and painfully that it flayed at his flesh, leaving it angry and bleeding in spite of his rejuvenative powers.

Only 50 yards away Ancaruin swatted at each of his assailants, sending all but Kelnozz falling to the ground at one point or another, though they would all struggle to their feet against the chill of death that tried to work its way into their hearts. It would only be a matter of time, Ancaruin was too mighty an opponent to be felled with only the weapons they held.

Bill, knowing his axe was of no use against Ancaruin, took the moment to glance over his shoulder towards where Garrick battled Bavorish. The glance cost him, for Ancaruin chose that moment to focus on him. He turned back just in time to fall to the ground in an attempt to avoid the strike. Like Elvanshalee, he felt the fiery chill steal his strength and his breath. His skin broke out in a fevered sweat and his bones felt a numbing coldness within them.

"Help Garrick, you can do no good here!" Elvanshalee hissed, still reeling from the effects of Ancaruin's glancing blow on her.

He scrambled to his feet further away from Ancaruin and cast a glance at the remaining three giving battle to the evil cloud of sentient mist. Then he moved towards where Bavorish and Garrick were doing battle. Bavorish saw him coming towards him but spared him no more then a glance, for it cost him a blow to his side from Garrick's hammer. A blow that would have crumpled a mortal man in half, yet only made him grunt at the impact. He smashed the hammer aside and slashed across with his sword, cutting deeply into the muscle of Garrick's shoulder.

Garrick recoiled, snarling at the injury. The initial burst of blood slowed to a drip and then stopped altogether quickly, but every injury lessened his strength and he knew it. Bill and Eric both hurried forward, not knowing what help they could offer the warrior, but knowing they must do something, for Bavorish doubled the fury of his attacks, apparently concerned at the thought of facing three opponents instead of one. On the shores of the Isle of Gods, little to their knowledge, all things were mortal.

*****

Alesha found herself alone at a forgotten river-side campsite. She gasped as she remembered the locale and knew she was having a dream. Or worse.

"Come back to me, child, and I will help you."

In the same spot as before stood the same man who had made a similar offer to her so long ago. He looked different this time though. His hair remained wavy but was red instead of brown. His face sported the sharply trimmed mustache and goatee of similar color. Instead of brown robes he wore magnificent looking gleaming black plate mail.

"Bavorish!" Alesha hissed, scrambling away from him defensively. She caught a glimpse of her arm and looked down at herself. She too, looked different. She wore her gifted armor and carried her sword at her side.

"Yes, I am he," the God said to her. "And together you and I stand on the brink of a new Viconia. I came here long ago with Ancaruin and helped to bring life to this world. It was my greatest creation, an entire world with which to conduct my experiments."

"But something went wrong, you see," he continued. "Elves, orcs, humans, dwarves, trolls, ogres, even halflings. They are possessed of free will and such a desire to succeed, they rebelled against my supremacy, if only in private.

"Thus it was that when strangers from another world arrived at the request of a meddling wizard who I long ago destroyed, they were aided. They slipped through my defenses and challenged me directly. Through their treachery this brought about the freeing of Viconia. The races could choose their own destiny more freely, and all of us were ascended to Gods."

Bavorish's smile turned darker. "That fool Garrick ha denied the power he once had. I will destroy him, of that you may be certain. Think of the challenge and hardship he has given you. Join me again and feel the satisfaction of watching that fool destroyed!"

Alesha shook her head, though inside she felt her will bending. At his powerful words she felt herself remembering how Garrick, masquerading as Helmut, had denied her time and again when she had him imprisoned. How he had mocked her. She remembered her outrage and frustration at his denials. Alesha felt her nails biting into her palms as she clenched her fists at her sides tightly. She gasped and hugged her arms about herself tightly.

"Join with me and watch Garrick destroyed! Ancaruin too, if you desire it. He may ascend or be destroyed, it is no consequence to me. Though with him again aiding me we can rule this world again!"

"Either way, a vacuum is filled. One must ascend to rule this world. It can be yours, all the power you had before and more! To be Empress of Viconia, imagine the power!"

Visions swam in Alesha's mind. She saw herself on the back of her old steed, worshipped and revered wherever she went. Such was Bavorish's poison that she did not see the fear in the eyes of those who knelt at her feet. She shook her head, remembering Kelnozz and what he would want of her.

Bavorish barked out a harsh laugh. "You would cling to him, the elf king? Ha! He has denied you! He has his responsibility to his race and his people, so he claims, and none to you. Is that a consort worthy of the affections of the Queen of an entire world?"

Alesha wavered then. She knew that Bavorish spoke a twisted version of the truth. Kelnozz did have responsibilities to others, but what she felt for him... What they could have together...

"Become my champion and I will make him your consort, if you must have him still. The elves will be your servants. All of the world will be yours to command!"

Alesha gasped. More images and visions rushed through her. She saw Kelnozz sitting beside her on a throne, though his was slightly lowered to hers. His eyes were only for her though, while elves, both dark and light, brought them food and wine and entertainment. Gone was the haughty nature of the elves. In it's place was subservience. They had been taught a lesson and things were as they should be.

"You have twisted but a glimpse of what I can give you, my child, don't you yearn to feel the warmth again?"

Alesha gasped. She did remember the heat of power filling her. The heat of purpose. Lately she had only hardship and stubbornness to guide her. Her greatest assets, her magic, had been gone. She had felt alone and abandoned and cold. So very cold.

*****

Luingirth stared down at Alesha, one mighty hand raised above her in preparation should she lose her fight. His vigilance served him well, for her eyelids snapped open suddenly. Her eyes showed only the whites, the rest had rolled back into her head. Luingirth snorted and drove his palm down, preparing to end her life in order to save them all.

Alesha through up one arm, palm open and shimmering with power. In spite of his size and in spite of his weight, Luingirth flew up into the air, yanked away by her magic. Her other hand twisted around in a loop and then made a pulling notion. Luingirth's mouth, which had just began to open so he could spit out a bolt of electricity at her, clamped shut, bound by mystical ropes. Alesha rose up from the ground then, turning to face Garrick and Bavorish. "Shit," Bill said, trailing off as he saw Alesha coming towards him walking swiftly and deliberately. Her hand raised up and gestured towards Garrick. A beam of black energy shot out from her hand. It caught Garrick in the side just as he raised his hand and propelled him forcefully all the way into the side of the castle, 20 yards away.

Garrick grunted when he hit the castle and slumped to the ground. He glanced down at his side and saw the wound where the beam of destructive energy had hit him. The flesh and muscle was torn and shredded where it was not missing altogether. His ribs shone brightly in the scant daylight that remained. He spat on the ground and stumbled to his feet.

"That's going to cost you," he said through clenched teeth. The muscle began to reform, knitting itself anew over his side. It progressed slowly at first, then more rapidly as it closed itself.

Alesha turned towards Bill. Bavorish grinned triumphantly, his champion had returned. Alesha made a gesture and a line in the sand shot forth towards Bill. Sand erupted up from it, exploding with great force. Trailing behind it flames burst from the ground. Reaching Bill so quickly that he had no time to react, it divided in half and circled him, showering him with hot particles of sand and then trapping him within a ring of fire that rose 8 feet into the air and burned more fiercely then any he had ever felt.

*****

Kelnozz glimpsed the events behind them and cursed. His near distraction nearly cost him dearly. He had to execute a leap of epic proportions to clear Ancaruin's swing fist. He landed behind it, knowing he had a scant few seconds to act before the dragon would be on him again.

"Go!" The elf called out. "Help them against Alesha, Luingirth failed!"

"And so shall you all fail, elf!" Ancaruin's chilling voice grated. Kelnozz ground his teeth together and ignored the dragon's words, focusing instead of lunging back in and attacking more fiercely.

Darakor, his body and mind aching from the attack Ancaruin had leveled him with earlier, laughed weakly as he fought beside Kelnozz. Kelnozz spared him no glance, but did ask in a harsh voice, "About to betray us again?"

Darakor spat out some blood before replying, "not this time, Kelnozz. This time I laugh at the irony of my life. We fight again, side by side."

"Worry not, Darakor, I will have enough left for you when we are done here!" Kelnozz vowed.

Yamara glanced back and saw the ring of flames surrounding Bill. She glanced back and saw that Ancaruin had taken note of her distraction. Yamara remembered Sandala in the last moment before Ancaruin's open maw would snap shut on her. She remembered how the sand elf had created a bubble in the dust of the great basin they had gone through to find the magical portal that had taken her and Brina away to Malatoria. Clinging to that hope she crossed her arms above her and ducked her head. Ancaruin's mighty jaws came crashing shut on her. Instead of being wrapped in the red mist that would have burned her life away her psionic bubble kept the mist at bay. She could feel and here Ancaruin's aggravation. He reared back and away from her just in time, for maintaining the force field with her mind drained her of the ability to focus and concentrate.

Elvanshalee had refused to turn from the dragon. She figured that Yamara would help the human, and that might buy them enough time. If Alesha had regained her power they would be hard pressed to defeat her alone, let alone with Ancaruin and Bavorish as well to contend with. Kelnozz had defeated Alesha on his own before, but if any of the rumors she had heard were true, she suspected this time it would be a different story. Elvanshalee growled in frustration and evoked another spell that sent streams of air so chilled it turned to frost into the great dragon's side.

Yamara stumbled back and away from Ancaruin, careful not to turn her back to him. When far enough away she turned fully and started running towards the wall of flames that separated her from Bill.

*****

Alesha passed through the ring of flames as though they were only an illusion. The fingers of fire caressed her body as she stepped through, leaving no sign or feeling in their wake. Within two steps she was through them and looking at Bill as in the middle of the flames circling slowly looking for an opening.

Alesha, her eyes still rolled back into her head, raised her hand up, her fingers twisting into a pained claw from which a dark smoke reached out. The tendrils of smoke went straight to him and wrapped around his body, pinning his arm to his side. Bill felt the constricting pressure and struggled against it. Alesha wrapped her hand around the smoke like a rope and, with a flick of her arm, she sent Bill crashing to the ground.

"Come on sweetheart, I thought we had something?" Bill grunted, struggling against the ethereal bonds. Alesha showed no sign of recognition at his words. Instead she stepped closer and put her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Bill held his axe in his hands, knowing it would do him no good and preparing for the worst. Inside he felt torn. He had admitted it to himself if no one else, he loved this woman. She was dangerous and unpredictable, but that only made it more exciting. That she loved someone else instead of him did not matter. Or at least, it did not dull his own desire for her. Bill cursed and looked down at the fey bands of smoke surrounding him. He suspected he knew then how Eric had felt at the end. He was going to die but he was going to do it on his terms.

Alesha raised an arm slowly towards Bill. Bill looked her in the eyes, hoping at the last minute she might come free of her possession. He saw nothing. A tentacle of black non-light came out of each finger, spearing into Bill's chest. He gasped felt a numbing coldness spreading through him, starting at his heart. He struggled against his bonds again, but they would not release. His strength faded quickly, leaving him to topple to the sand.

Bill lay on the sand, his breath coming in shallow gasps and his body to weak to obey him. Alesha made a gesture with both arms outstretched and the ring of fire leapt from the ground into the sky. It arced several feet above them and joined together into a great pillar of fire. The column of flame struck downwards, driving into Bill mercilessly.. She turned and walked away, Bill no longer a concern to her. Bill groaned at the inferno that burned with the unholy ferocity of Hell unleashed. Then he was gone, his consciousness and his life swept away on the winds that rose above the flames.

Yamara stopped, seeing the column of flames disappearing, leaving behind only a black spot on the beech. Yamara ground her teeth and frowned. It appeared that Bill had failed. Now it was her turn.

"Help me, Brina," Yamara whispered, reaching out with her mind to light the spark within the amulet against her chest. It flared brightly beneath her shirt, warming her with it's presence. Yamara walked forward boldly, unafraid of what lay before her.

*****

"Keep him busy!" Kelnozz ordered, taking a last wing with Llarothimaril before he darted away from Ancaruin.

The undead dragon started after him before a small cloud generated above him and unleashed a deluge of hailstone onto and into him. The dragon roared and turned on Elvanshalee, who had incanted the magical hail. Then Darakor was there hacking into him and distracting him further. The bee stings of their assaults were not overly harmful, but they were irritating.

Kelnozz ran towards where Yamara faced Alesha, hoping he would make it in time. He did not know much of anything about Yamara but suspected very strongly that the woman stood no chance against her adversary.

*****

Alesha reached out with her hand towards Yamara, a lance of flame erupting from her palm to strike out at the woman. Yamara held her short sword and dagger up in front of her, bracing herself with the muscles in her back and erected a shield with her mind. The fiery bolt crashed into her crossed weapons and dissipated harmlessly after the initial force of the impact. Yamara grunted and stepped forward, returning her weapons to an attack stance.

Alesha, showing no emotion whatsoever, twisted her arm around and made her hand into a clawing motion as it came up. The ground under Yamara burst upwards, showering her with sand hot from the days sun and sending her flying up into the air. Yamara twisted around with the agility of a cat, softening her landing both by flexing her knees and by lightening her weight with her powers. The ruby amulet began to glow so brightly and so warmly that it began to burn away the leather of her shirt, yet it did no harm to her skin.

Yamara rolled to the side to dodge another bolt of fire. It hit the ground behind her and exploded violently, melting the sand into a crater of glass. She sprang to her feet and rushed forward, strikinging out at Alesha now that she had finally closed to melee range.

Alesha's short sword sent Yamara's strike wide, easily parrying her blow. Yamara plunged in with her dagger, knowing that any lapse in her attack would bring more magic against her. Alesha caught the dagger on her bracer and blocked it high and away from her. Yamara grunted at the woman's strength. She scrambled to recover and launch another attack but before she could Alesha had kicked her foot almost straight up between them, connecting with her chin and lifting her off the ground from the force of the magically enhance blow.

Yamara had barely managed to protect herself in time, softening the force of the strike by changing her momentum and toughening her chin and throat. In spite of that it still hurt like the blazes and she wondered whether she would keep her teeth. She rolled away from Alesha and came back to her feet, crouched low and panting like a wounded animal. Unnoticed by her, Yamara's leather shirt had burned away to reveal her ruby hanging on its chain around her neck, nestled into the beginning of the valley of her breasts. It now glowed so brightly that it could barely be looked at directly.

"You're going to pay for that one," Yamara spat out, testing her teeth with her tongue. She started to spring forward when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Let me handle this," Kelnozz said to her, walking forward before she had a chance to respond. Yamara clenched her hands and spat out some blood from where she had bitten her lip.

Kelnozz walked forward, his swords in their sheaths and his hands open in front of her. "Alesha," he said calmly. "I'm not going to fight you anymore. If you are lost to us, to me, then you win. You and Bavorish can have the world, for it is not worth it to me to lose you again, I would rather be stricken down myself."

Kelnozz crossed his arms and laid his palms upon his chest with his elbows at his side. It was a gesture of peace. He dropped to his knees then and looked at her, his gaze never leaving hers, though her eyes still were rolled back in her head.

Alesha reached forward slowly with her hand, pointing towards Kelnozz with pent up energy. Then she hesitated. Something within Alesha remembered. Deep inside the tiny part of her that had not been twisted, corrupted, and coerced by her dark pact rebelled. She rose up out of her core, fighting the entire way against the dark queen she had become. She took control of herself just long enough to investigate the possibility of what had happened. The powerful empress that she represented was confused by Kelnozz's actions. They were unfathomable to her. Yet the human woman buried deep within knew a possibility existed.

Mystical bonds of energy wove themselves into a net and settled around Kelnozz, immobilizing him completely. He remained kneeling, staring up at her with a pained look on his face. Alesha approached him, reaching out when she stood next to him and placing her palm on his forehead.

What she saw shocked her so thoroughly that the Dark Queen was left reeling. The girl who had dreamed of finding a knight in shining armor deep inside Alesha remembered her dreams. She rejoiced at the confirmation of her deepest childhood fantasies. The girl had been a woman for the better part of a century now, yet only now did she realize it. And on top of that, she was a woman who was simultaneously very happy and very angry. She rose up within herself and vented her fury on the corruption that had poisoned her mind. She lashed out at it from within, burning at it and purging herself from it. She destroyed it all except for that tiny bit that kept her link with Bavorish. To destroy that would inform him of what had occurred.

Alesha glanced up at Yamara, who had moved to stand behind Kelnozz with her blades in her hands and a look of extreme irritation on her face. Her ruby pendant still cast a blood red light from it. The whites of Alesha's eyes were no longer showing. She smiled at her. Yamara stood uncertain, confused at the sudden events. She started forward then stopped when she saw Alesha kneel down beside Kelnozz.

Alesha knelt down beside the dark elf on the ground, her eyes filled with moisture. "Thank you," she whispered to him, meeting his surprised but happy gaze. Her arms went around him and she kissed him tenderly. She rose back to her feet and smiled again at him both fondly and thankfully.

"I have to go and finish something now."

Kelnozz nodded, though he was not quite sure what she was going to do. He turned to Yamara.

"I could have handled her," Yamara said, talking to herself as much as him.

Kelnozz chuckled. Yamara had done remarkably well against Alesha, but he knew that in a prolonged combat she would stand no chance against the raven haired beauty. "Perhaps, but the fight would have been long and I prefer her alive."

*****

Alesha walked up beside Bavorish, sword in her hand. He looked at her and smiled darkly. Her eyes were rolled back in her head once again making him none the wiser or her regaining control of herself. The evil God turned back to face Garrick then.

Garrick, for his part, had regained his feet and was slowly walking toward them. He summoned his hammer back to his hand and swung it experimentally. His side was mostly healed, but he looked haggard. He glared at Alesha with murderous intent.

Alesha came to stand beside Bavorish and cast her eyes down penitently. He chuckled. "You see this, fool? My champion has returned! She will know power unlike any mortal will ever have wielded as a reward for bringing me you to slay. Ancaruin will ascend and our alliance shall once again leave us the supreme beings upon this world!"

"If you are so anxious to kill me, then come and try it!" Garrick spat out, his rage overriding his growing fatigue.

Bavorish nodded, "Very well. Watch what happens when a God dies, Dark Queen."

He walked forward confidently, not paying as much attention to Garrick as he might have had Alesha not been at his back. Garrick saw the distraction and hurled his hammer with all his might, following closely behind it by running. He let out a inhuman roar of rage as he leapt through the air, claiming height and distance impossible for a mere human to attain.

Garrick's hammer slammed into Bavorish's chest, driving the God of Death back several steps and indenting his armor deeply. Bavorish was stunned by the force of the blow. He looked up from his chest and took in a deep breath after a few seconds to replace the air driven out of his lungs forcefully. He looked up just in time to see Garrick landing on top of him, knocking both of them to the ground in an epic wrestling match.

Such was their strength and power that neither was able to hold the other for more then a few seconds. They scrambled for position, fists, elbows, and any other imaginable body part that could be used as a weapon striking out at every opportunity. Alesha watched impassively from the side the entire time as they rolled about on the sand.

The fight seemed ended when Garrick drove his fist into Bavorish's back with such strength that Alesha could hear and nearly feel the snapping noise Bavorish's backbone made. Bavorish's legs flailed about and he gasped in pain at the injury. Garrick stood up and grabbed Bavorish by the ankles, picking him up and preparing to fling him into the same wall he had slammed into earlier.

The fight was not out of Bavorish yet, however. Already his back had healed, though he feigned injury. He doubled over at the waist, raising himself up and slamming his open palms into Garrick's ears, bursting the man's ear drums and sending him stumbling back. Bavorish crashed heavily to the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, walking after where Garrick stumbled backwards away from him, both his hands cradling his bleeding ears.

"Come Alesha, and witness this historic moment firsthand," Bavorish bade her. His hand pointed towards where his bastard sword lay half buried in the sand and it flew to him. He turned back and sliced across Garrick's thighs, cutting through the muscles on them and dropping him to his knees. Garrick spat out an oath and tried to regain his feet, his slowly healing ears forgotten as he faced extinction. His legs would not obey him until they were healed, however.

Alesha stood behind Bavorish and saw her moment to strike was then. Unseen, she pulled back her sword drove it up and into his back with every bit of strength her body and her magic could muster. The magical nature of her blade was such that it cut easily through even the God's armor, flesh, and bone, not stopping until it found it's target, his black heart.

Bavorish gasped at the sudden intrusion of icy pain. He tried to turn around but Alesha held fast, refusing to let him move and refusing to unsheathe her sword. Her eyes glowed with infernal power as she worked the magic that Bavorish had given her. He struggled against her but with every passing moment his strength was siphoned away.

Garrick at last was able to regain his feet. He glared at Bavorish, staring into the God's eyes. Bavorish did not return the stare, instead his eyes were focused on something far more distant then any of them could see. His mouth worked as he tried to fashion words, yet none came out. Another timeless moment passed for them, alone on the beach in spite of the thunderous battle happening nearby. Then Bavorish's eyes rolled into his head much like Alesha's had done earlier. He looked suddenly wan and emaciated, then he was gone. In the blink of an eye he had disappeared.

Alesha gasped and stumbled back, barely maintaining her balance. She looked at her sword and felt the heat and power radiating from it. She gasped and let it fall to the ground, instantly glad to be rid of it. She felt, for the first time in her life that she could remember, clean. Wholesome and untainted, she was free of Bavorish's curse at last.

Kelnozz and Yamara came running over to them, anxious to learn of the fate of Bavorish.

"Where is he?" Yamara asked, looking about anxiously.

Garrick was covered in blood, as well as a weary look upon his face and in his posture. Yet for all of that he seemed whole and well. "In there," Garrick said, pointing at Alesha's sword on the ground. "He has been defeated, his position is open. A God has fallen this day."

"Alesha, brace yourself and hold that sword firmly in hand," Garrick commanded her. Alesha knelt down nervously and picked up the sword again. The hilt was warm and she could feel the power trapped within it writhing and seeking release. It was evil through and through, the power trapped within.

She held it in both hands, calling upon her own restored magic that was more powerful then ever to brace her. Garrick raised his hammer above his head then, taking careful aim. Seeing what was about to happen, Yamara lent her own will to the task of supporting Alesha's hold on the blade. Garrick's hammer fell then, striking the blade just above the hilt and causing it to break. A soundless explosion of thunder swept over all them, stunning them briefly and causing them all to flinch from it.

Ancaruin let out a keening roar that left them all reeling again, save for Garrick. Even Kelnozz stumbled back and away from the dragon. Elvanshalee was driven to her knees by the shriek as the power of it overrode her already battered mind. She was defenseless on the sandy beach in front of the great beast, she knew it but there was nothing she could do to defend herself. Darakor lay on the ground where a final swipe from the dragon had driven him to it.

Instead of leaping upon her or striking after the off balance elf, Ancaruin leapt to the air, his ethereal wings beating out of psychological. His flight was short lived, more of a hop really. He landed in front of the mighty castle gates and roared again.

"Hold!" Garrick bellowed, turning to face Ancaruin. The dragon stopped and swung it's cloudy face towards him.

"She has slain a God!" Ancaruin spat out, hissing in fury. "She has no part of the Pantheon of this world!"

Garrick looked to Alesha. Alesha nodded slowly. She could feel it deep within her, a separation of more then just herself from Bavorish. A separation of more then just her and her powers. She was sundered forever from the theology of Viconia.

"Any here are eligible, save for her," Garrick stated, striding towards Ancaruin. "Open those gates ere the choice is made and I will destroy you forever, wyrm!"

Luingirth landed behind Ancaruin then, his mighty wings whipping up a short last sandstorm that made them all shield their faces. He kept his steely blue eyes on Ancaruin, his form poised to strike though Ancaruin was greater then he.

"Kelnozz, Lord of the Elves," Garrick said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically official. "I grant you the first choice. Will you ascend to fill the role of the God of Darkness?"

Kelnozz chuckled. "Nay, old friend, I think not. Besides, I have a marriage to get going," he said the last while looking directly at Alesha. Alesha returned his gaze and felt a sadness within her at remembering their talk the night before.

Garrick nodded. "Elvanshalee, would you rise up?"

The light elf's eyes widened as she realized what she was being offered. She had regained enough strength to walk over and join them, but she still felt a heavy burden on her soul from her contact with Ancaruin.

"I left the light elven way of life behind long ago," she said after a moment. "I will not return to any part of it's darkness and hatred."

Garrick nodded approvingly towards her, then turned to Yamara. "You stand next. You do not come from this world nor have you been here long, yet by your willingness to risk your very life, you too may make a choice," Garrick said, turning to Yamara. "After all," he added with a smirk, "I did not come from Viconia either!"

They could all see the thrill of excitement that coursed through Yamara. Here was her chance to gain more power then ever she could dream. She could rise so far above her station that even her greatest childhood dreams would pale in comparison.

The moment was a long and breathless one as everyone awaited Yamara's answer. The length it took her to decide whether she would stand for the position or not seemed answer enough. Then, at last, she looked up from the sand before her and stared at the adamantium gates. The light within the ruby faded away then, returning once more to the simple, though nearly priceless, bauble it resembled.

"It's funny," she said, looking at each of them, even Ancaruin and Luingirth, "all my life I have struggled to find some sort of skill or power or talent great enough to be certain no one could take what is important away from me. I began life a thief and rose to the position of murderer and thug. Now, the more I achieve the goals I dreamed of, the more I realize that at any time in my life I could have had what I wanted. It was within me all along."

She drew a deep breath and turned to face Garrick squarely. "I grew up working for evil men that worshipped an evil God. I will have nothing to do with their likes ever again!"

Garrick accepted her answer with a nod. He looked at Luingirth and opened his mouth to ask the question. Luingirth merely snorted derisively at him, which Garrick took for his answer.

"Does he yet live?" Garrick asked, pointing to where Darakor lay. Kelnozz jerked his head around with a curse. Somehow in the face of all that had happened he had forgotten about his wayward son.

In a matter of moments Kelnozz was at his side. Alesha joined him a few moments later. Garrick and Yamara walked more slowly. Kelnozz stared down at him and then knelt beside the light elf. His lesser sword lay several feet away, but Cirithallion remained in his hand. His face was pale and he seemed deathly still.

"Not a very fitting end," Darakor whispered, opening his eyes and glancing up at the sky. His gaze fixed on Kelnozz, his expression unreadable. Trails of fresh blood ran from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth.

"I can save him," Alesha said softly, afraid to not offer to help and afraid to offer to help.

Kelnozz looked at Darakor, his face unreadable. "Your crimes can never be forgiven, Darakor, for that alone you have earned death."

Darakor closed his eyes and swallowed weakly. His breath rasped and gurgled in his throat. He nodded his head weakly and opened his eyes again. "Fair enough," he whispered, "I'd never be like you."

"I will remember you as my friend and my student, that is all I can give you," Kelnozz said, his voice tightly controlled.

Darakor smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't forget the rest, it might happen again."

Kelnozz nodded as Darakor closed his eyes. He thought him gone and was about to get up when Darakor whispered his final words, "Kalista Risingmoon yet lives."

Kelnozz's eyes widened. He bent over Darakor to try and force him to speak more but the light elf had died. Kelnozz turned away from him bitterly and rose up.

"No, Garrick, he does not," Kelnozz answered, tightly shoving away the anger, the frustration, and the feelings of loss within him.

"None stands against you, Ancaruin. No decision must be made. If you would ascend to the shackles of Godhood, open those doors and pass beyond them to the realm where none may ever harm you," Garrick said, though the clenching of the muscles in his arms and leg spoke of the irritation it caused him to proclaim it.

Ancaruin glared at them all a final time then reached out for the gates. As soon as a wisp of magical mist he called a body touched the gate the twin doors opened smoothly. Pure blinding light shown through the opening between the gates, forcing them to squint and look away. Kelnozz blinked away the tears as long enough to see the shimmering bodies of the Gods standing royally within the brilliantly lit courtyard. Amongst them all Nordan and Martin each raised a hand in greeting and regarded him with warm smiles. Kelnozz felt himself nearly overcome before the spots in his vision were so great that he had to turn away or risk permanent blindness. Garrick alone could stand it's brilliance, though he too was forced to squint. He knew all of those who stood in procession awaiting the next God of Death to assume his throne.

Thus it was that Garrick alone saw Ancaruin step through the portal. With every inch of his massive body that made it through the gates more of him rematerialized into a solid form. In a few minutes he resembled once again the ancient and all powerful dragon that had long ago terrorized the skies of Viconia. As the last of his tail cleared the portcullis the gates swung smoothly shut with a reverberating boom.

Epilogue

"These pieces must never again be joined, else Bavorish's evil can be unleashed upon the world," Garrick said, picking up the two pieces of the short sword that contained the evil god within.

"Who will protect them?" He said, turning to face the assembled people.

"I will take one," Kelnozz stepped forward without hesitation. Already Kelnozz had taken Cirithallion from the ground and placed it in the opposite scabbard from Llarothimaril. The sword was lifeless, Ancaruin's presence departed, yet the magic within the blade still made it nearly without equal.

Garrick chuckled and shook his head. "No, my friend. You have a different doom upon you. You are the King of the Elves, such a place is no place for evil such as this."

Kelnozz frowned. Garrick had a point, he supposed, never mind that he had no real ambition to be the King of the Elves. He glanced around, wondering who was next.

Alesha wanted no part of it. She had felt it's evil in to many ways over the years. If she never saw the sword again it would be too soon. She shook her head, wondering why she had ever talked Yamara into going and getting it for her in the first place.

"I will take a part of it," Yamara said, reaching out and taking the hilt of the sword from Garrick's hand. Everyone looked at her in surprise, she had the least reason to care for Viconia's fate of any of them. "I seem to bounce from one world to the next a lot lately, might make things a little safer if I end up on another one and leave it behind," she offered with a smirk as an explanation.

Garrick chuckled and turned to look at Elvanshalee. Elvanshalee nodded, stepping forward to take the sundered blade. Garrick offered her a grin and then turned back to them all.

"Hell of a fight!" He said, grinning widely. None had the same enthusiasm the former God of War did, but his mood lightened theirs regardless. "Come, we have a long trip back to Innowendyn and a lot of celebrating to do!"

Kelnozz brightened only a little while Alesha's face fell. "Indeed, and I have a wedding to plan!" He glanced at Alesha nervously. "You can not be the Queen of the Elves, Alesha, for you are not an elf. I have a responsibility to them I can not deny."

Alesha nodded, squaring her back and preparing to face whatever fate awaited her. Already in her mind she considered taking off with Yamara. They had many good times together in the Tavern and had gotten along quite well. Now that Yamara had the strange powers she possessed together they could make quite a name for themselves she imagined. Anything to keep her from Innowendyn and the memory of the man she could not have.

"They will accept you as my wife if I name you the Mistress of Elves, however," Kelnozz continued, seeing her preparing herself for rejection. He grinned as her stunned eyes met his. She closed her mouth and flew into his arms, hugging him tightly and kissing him without pause.

Garrick chuckled again. Luingirth lowered his head so that he was near the group as well and watched with his own form of amusement apparent. "Ah Loo... I need to find me a good spirited wench I think. Not much better after a good battle then some ale in memory of the fallen and a woman!"

Luingirth snorted an indignant response. "Come on, I saw you looking at the light elf, you old wyrm!" Garrick jibed.

Elvanshalee's eyes widened in shock. She opened and closed her mouth a few times in indignation. This caused Garrick to laugh all the harder. Luingirth snorted again and raised his head to sit stiffly on the sandy beach.

"Enough of this foolishness, let us be off, we have many leagues to travel yet!" Garrick said, turning to where Luingirth sat and easily climbing up to the dragon's back. The others soon followed, with Yamara casting a long look at the adamantium gates of the castle and Elvanshalee staring long and hard at her brother's corpse. She felt only disappointment in her for him. No sense of less, just disappointment.

*****

Just over the Periphery, leaving the Lost Lands behind them, Yamara asked that they land so she could be on her way. They dismounted and stood around her in a semi-circle saying their goodbyes.

"It is best this way," Yamara explained. "These pieces must be separated as soon as possible. I have no interest in returning to Innowendyn right now and before me I have an entire world yet to explore."

Kelnozz nodded to her. He approved of her decision and respected her all the more for taking up the responsibility she had been given. Elvanshalee and Alesha agreed as well, though Alesha had truly hoped Yamara would return with them. In spite of their little altercation on the beach she considered Yamara a friend after all they had been through.

"Yamara, should you ever find the desire to come to Innowendyn, you will ever be welcomed," Kelnozz told her. Alesha smiled and came forward to hug her. Yamara returned the hug somewhat awkwardly, her own feeling for Alesha still somewhat hesitant. She had seen her at her worst now, it was not an image she would be able to set aside anytime soon.

"One last thing," Yamara sad, glancing about the semi-arid wilderness they had set down in. "Where is the nearest city?"

That earned a good natured chuckle from all of them. Garrick pointed to the Southeast. "It is perhaps three days journey from here, fairly easy going last I knew. The cities name is Gontach, it is at the base of a mighty mountain once thought high enough to commune with the Gods."

Yamara nodded. "My thanks then. Be well, all of you, let us hope that fate favors us and we never have need to see one another again."

Yamara turned and walked off, never looking back. The pendant glowed softly around her neck. She glanced down and smiled at it. She would never feel alone again.

*****

Kelnozz felt tears falling from his face, tears that he had never allowed to fall. Tears that spoke of countless generations of pain and suffering. He knew that somehow and somewhere his father was smiling down upon him. He had seen to it that the elves were one people again. Bavorish, the source of the corruption in the first place, was no more. Individuals may vary, but the curse had been lifted.

Alesha woke in their bedroom behind him. He had woken before her and now stood on the landing outside their bedroom, overlooking the rebuilt city of Loralost. After a brief celebration upon their return and an equally brief planning, Kelnozz and Alesha had been wed. As he predicted the elven people had been shocked but they had also accepted it. Alesha's magic would ensure that, unlike others of her race, she would live a long life beside him.

Elvanshalee had left after the wedding. Luingirth bore her aloft into the evening sky heading to the north and west, where both the Chachopeyan Islands and dwarven kingdom lay. Eventually Belurian lay that way as well. As Elvanshalee and Luingirth flew off Luingirth turned his head towards Garrick, who was watching them depart, and winked at him. Garrick had laughed long and hard at that, it seemed the light elf's cold beauty had gotten to the dragon after all!

"Kel, I have a question about something Darakor said at the end," Alesha said, coming up behind him softly.

Kelnozz turned and offered her a smile. She saw the trails of tears on his cheeks and rushed in to give him a hug. She sensed his mood and knew there was nothing wrong. After a moment Kelnozz asked her, equally softly, "What would you know about him?"

Alesha backed up in his arms so she could focus on his face. "Not about him, about what he said... Who is Kalista?"

Kelnozz closed his eyes and nodded. He had forgotten about her until now. He saw the concerned look on Alesha's face and chuckled. Even now she was still nervous.

"Her full name is Kalista Risingmoon. She is my mother."