“Temptations”

Introduction

Like most Palaeoboreanic epics, The Descent of the Drayad follows a fairly typical Palaeoboreanic narrative structure, containing an antegesis, imegesis, diegesis, and exegesis.

Currently combining multiple different drafts. Appologies to whomsoever might read this for all the redundancy.

Hemegesis Beta (Επυλλιον Βητα)
§β: Imegesis

Chapter I
“Lamentations”

¶I.

From the journals of Kha Lo Din:

¶I.

¶I. Burdened, stained, trodden under the weight of many thousandfold pains does my heart lie trampled and broken, by the hauntings of innumerable guilts I could not have foreseen when at first I embarked upon my journey to Necropolis. I feel at times I cannot ignore the filth clinging to my skin as a squalid rag, dampened by the vilest of knavish excrement. The memories I have acquired these past months stir me as I sleep, defile my dreams, and disturb my every waking thought. Verily I fear, that into captivity shall be brought my immortal soul, under enslavement of the atrocities committed by these everstained hands, for I am relentlessly pursued. I can feel the pull of Hell itself upon my bosom, its talons at the very height of my bowels, strangling me slowly from within; and rightfully so. I cannot feign innocence.

¶I. Burdened, stained, trodden under the weight of many thousandfold pains my heart lies trampled and broken, by the hauntings of innumerable guilts I could not have foreseen when at first I embarked upon my journey to Necropolis. I feel at times I cannot ignore the filth that clings to my skin as a squalid rag, dampened by the vilest of knavish excrement. The memories I have acquired these past months stir me as I sleep, defile my dreams, and disturb my every waking thought. Verily I fear, that my immortal soul shall be brought captive, enslaved by the atrocities committed by these mine everstained hands, for I am relentlessly pursued. I can feel the pull of Hell itself upon my bosom, its talons at the height of my bowels, strangling me slowly from within; and rightfully so. I cannot feign innocence.

¶I.

I scoff to think how righteously it all began:

¶II. To think, nay, to scoff at how righteously it all began. The Council of the High Priesthood in the southern kingdom of Stregheria had somehow acquired a most clandestine ken: it seemed the Order of Mortiferean Knights were planning to resurrect the Bringer of Death, and that they’d begun searching that ancient, abandoned city of incomparably vile repute for the book that held the secret to doing just that.

To think how righteously it all began. The Council of Hierophants in the southern Borean lands of the Latoan Empire had somehow acquired a most clandestine ken; they had learned the Legion of Mortiferean Knights were planning to resurrect the Bringer of Death. They had managed to retrieve for themselves three of the five Elemental Staves: the Eldstafr that was given to them by the Saurians, the Windstafr they’d plundered from the tomb of Lord Richard Harcroft, and the Erdstafr supposed to have lain secure within the mountain labyrinths of Orkheim.

¶I.

The Legion of Mortiferean Knights had plundered the Windstafr from the tomb of Lord Richard Harcroft, and had also somehow gained the Erdstafr that was supposed to have lain deeply secured within the mountain labyrinths of Orkheim. And with the Saurians having sequestered the Eldstafr unto the Unseelie Court of Faelor, and talks commencing between the Unseelie Court and the rightful appointed keepers of the Merstafr, the Tritons, there lasted little doubt that Unseelie Court and Legion of Mortifer were allied, acting in union to resurrect the Bringer of Death.

¶I.

¶X. The Legion of Mortiferean Knights had plundered the Windstafr from the tomb of Lord Richard Harcroft, and had somehow also gained the Erdstafr that was supposed to have lain deeply secured within the mountain labyrinths of Orkheim. And with the Saurians having sequestered the Eldstafr unto the Unseelie Court of Faelor, and talks commencing between that unholy court and the rightful appointed guardians of the Merstafr, the Tritons, there lasted little doubt the Unseelie Court and Legion of Mortifer were allied, acting in accord to resurrect the Bringer of Death.

¶I.

Talks had recently commenced between the Unseelie Court and the Tritons as well. This meant, if the Hierophants were correct that the Legion of Mortiferean Knights had been working under governance of the Unseelie Court, that an attempt would soon be made for the Merstafr.

¶I.

¶XI. With all four Elemental Staves gathered, there would remain only to pass into the Elemental Realms and retrieve from them the four Purgatorial Keys, and also to obtain the Lychstafr from the dreaded city of Necropolis, to unseal the Gateway to Purgatory and loose the Darkest of Gods upon the face of Gaya once more. Yet to achieve this would require of them the instructions and rituals contained within the pages of the Black Grimoire of Pope Chthonicus the Mage, a text by repute entombed in Necropolis with Pope Chthonicus himself beneath the Temple of the Death-Bearer.

¶I.

With all four Elemental Staves gathered, there would remain only to pass into the Elemental Realms and retrieve the four Purgatorial Keys, and to obtain the Lychstafr from the dreaded city of Necropolis, to unseal the Gateway to Purgatory and loose the Death-Bearer upon the face of Gaya once more. Yet to achieve this would require the instructions and rituals contained within the pages of the Obsidian Grimoire of Pope Chthonicus the Black Mage, a text reputed to have been entombed with Pope Chthonicus himself beneath the Temple of Mortifer in Necropolis.

¶I.

The last of the Elemental Staves for them to gather would then be the Lychstafr. The “Staff of Flesh”, as it is also called, was said to have been cast long ago into Necropia Valley, into the depths of the Centaurian Catacombs beneath what one-day would be Necropolis. If the Mortiferean Knights were searching for the Lychstafr, that was where they would start.

¶I.

Of greater concern still to the Hierophants, it was rumored that Necropolis had been the final resting place of the Mortiferean Legate Rha Kai Tan, and as well Pope Chthonicus of the Black Mages. Somewhere within the city might have lay the Black Grimoire of Pope Chthonicus the Mage; a tome believed to contain within it the instructions required to open the gateway to Purgatory and loose the Dark God Mortifer from his captivity beneath.

¶I.

The Hierophants could never have permitted this. And so Legate Cavan Elfrede of the Béowynland camp of the Latoan Foreign Legions of Aradian Knights was called, and the Paladins of Béowyn summoned to arms; charged to travail unto that nexus of the three kingdoms, the valley of Necropia, wherein awaited that most dreaded city.

¶III. The High Priesthood could never permit the Order to recover the Black Grimoire of Pope Chthonicus the Mage; action had to be taken against them. And so the Paladins of Béowyn were summoned to arms.

¶I.

And so Legate Cavan Elfrede of the Béowynland camp of the Latoan Foreign Legions of the Knights of Aradia summoned his Legionaries, the Paladins of Béowyn to arms. And I found myself charged hence to defend the safety of the Northlands and all that therein lived, and to protect the world in entirety from the renascence of the Dark God Mortifer.

¶I.

Just a year after my inauguration into the ranks of the Knights of Aradia, I found myself being hied to defend the Faith, the safety of the Northlands themselves and all who dwelt therein, and indeed the entirety of the world. For if the Legion of Mortifer were to acquire the Grimoire of Chthonicus and the Elemental Staves, the Death-Bearer might walk the face of Gaya once more. This was the sort of noble mission to stroke any young knight’s egotistical claim to infallible loyalty, and to quench his thirst for valiance.

¶I.

¶IV. Just a year after my inauguration into the ranks of the Aradian Knights, I found myself being called to defend the Faith, the safety of the Northlands themselves and all who dwelt there, and indeed the entirety of the world. For if the Knights of Mortifer were to acquire the book, the Death-Bearer might walk the face of Gaia once more. This was the sort of noble mission to stroke any young knight’s egotistical claim to infallible loyalty, and to quench his thirst for valiance.

¶I.

This was a noble mission of the sort to stroke any young knight’s egotistical claim to infallible fealty, and to quench his thirst for valiance.

¶I.

¶VIII. And I scoff to think how righteously it all began:

¶I.

¶IX. For nigh a decade Naerith-tu’llu’Coenal had been a ___; not merely a soldier of The Horde of the Unseelie Court, but one of an elite century of private guards for Darkelphame Province’s Viceroy Cyrian of the Cloan ny Moyrn Sith, the ruling body of that unholy court of the nation of Faelor. Twice each year in that time upon returning to his home in Darkelphame for the sewing and harvesting seasons, Tu’Coenil had sent word unto the Paladins of Béowyn, anent whatever were the most recent goings-on amidst the rulers of the Faeloreth Empery under the reign of the High Empress Lilithena.

¶I.

¶XII. And so Legate Cavan Elfrede of the Béowynland camp of the Latoan Foreign Legions of Aradian Knights summoned the Paladins of Béowyn to arms, and I found myself charged hence to defend the safety of the Northlands and all that therein dwelt, and to protect the world in Her entirety from the renascence of the Dark God Mortifer. This was the sort of noble mission to stroke any young knight’s egotistical claim to infallible fealty, and to quench his thirst for valiance.

¶I.

¶XIII. This I believe more than any other thing to be the nativity of my ruin.

¶I.

This I believe more than any other thing to be the nativity of my ruin.

¶I.

This I believe more than anything to have been the naissance of my ruination.

¶I.

¶V. It was nightfall on the eve of the mission that my beloved Alyssandra would see me for the last time. As I held her in my arms that eventide, I knew in the depths of me how truly blessed I was. To look upon her face, so perfect and without flaw; her skin so soft and fair, her lips so velvet and full, and those eyes. To peer into those glimmering brown eyes is to be lost forever in their sparkling sheen, and to traverse the Heavens themselves on upborne heart. To nest my fingers in her golden hair and caress each long, silken wave, and to cradle her slender body in my enclasp. To feel the warmth of her breath upon my lips as we embrace: no other man could imagine such splendor.

It was nightfall on the eve of the mission that my beloved Alyssandra would see me for the last time. As I held her in my arms that eventide, I knew in the depths of me how truly blest I was. To look upon her face so flawless and maidenly, her skin so soft and fair, her lips so velvet and full, and those eyes. To peer into those glimmering brown eyes is to be forever lost in their sparkling sheen, and to traverse the Heavens themselves on upborne heart. To behold her smile that like the virgin brightness of each day’s dawn lights every room. To see her every complexion brought so vibrantly into life by her eternally starlit eyes and sprightly brows. To be by her mere presence so gifted. To nest my fingers in her golden hair and caress each long and silken wave, to feel the warmth of her cheek cradled in my hand. To taste upon my lips the sweetness of her breath as we embrace. To hold her slender body in mine enclasp; to feel her unstinting breasts swollen against me, her robust hips grinding into mine, and her legs wreathed around me as the last time we made love: No other man could imagine such splendour.

¶II. It was nightfall on the eve of the mission that my beloved Alyssandra would see me for the last time. As I held her in my arms that eventide, I knew in the depths of me how truly blest I was. To look upon her face so flawless and maidenly, her skin so soft and fair, her lips so velvet and full, and those eyes. To peer into those glimmering brown eyes was to be forever lost in their sparkling sheen, and to traverse the Heavens themselves on upborne heart. To behold her smile that like the virgin brighting of each day’s dawn lit every room. To see her every complexion brought so vibrantly into life by her eternally starlit eyes and sprightly brows -- to be by her mere presence gifted; to hear her laugh or faintest whisper. To nest my fingers in her golden hair and caress each long and silken wave, to feel the warmth of her cheek cradled in my hand. To taste upon my lips the sweetness of her breath as we embraced. To hold her slender body in mine enclasp as the last time we made love: No man but I could imagine such splendour.

¶I.

¶III. Alyssandra Rowan the Foxley, to some known as Mistress Phoenix Adonia, to others as Miss Foxley the Fair, or as Alyssandra the Comely, ‘Sandra Sherelock, Allie of Cottwood Hollow, Alyssa the Bonny, or Béowynland’s Beauty; possessed of herself a beauty such that she hadn’t in all the Northlands a single peer. And if her epithets were half as many those beatitudes with which the Gods enshone her, then surely she’s been hight a thousand more.

¶I.

¶VI. A young woman impassioned by all concerns of soul and mind; a Priestess, unworldly intelligent and wont of speaking on equal stead with scholars and philosophers several decades her senior. Her every countenance and gesture so genuine, so unimpaired by diffidence as she spoke yet lacking even the subtlest trace of pretension, that nary in our discourses was I aught but enraptured. Even when, as was most often the circumstance, I found my mind lame to follow the perspicacity of her thoughts.

¶I.

I departed without waking her the next day from the camp in Landley, and set off toward Necropolis with my fellow Paladins, thinking it in my arrogance chivalrous to leave her only with the memories of our last night spent together, rather than some heart-wrenching farewell.

¶IV. I departed without waking her the next day from the camp in Landley, and set off toward Necropolis with my fellow Paladins, thinking it in my arrogance chivalrous to leave her only with the memories of our last night spent together, rather than some heart-wrenching farewell.

I departed with my fellow Paladins from our camp in Hathor the next morning without saying goodbye to her, thinking it in my arrogance chivalrous to leave her only with the memories of our last night together, rather than some heart-wrenching farewell.

¶I. I left the next morning without waking her, believing it in my arrogance chivalrous to leave her only with the memories of our last night together, rather than some wrenching farewell. And so this was how I began my journey to the dreaded Necropia Valley, wherein lay the fateful city of Necropolis itself.

¶I.

Always I will remember the image of her sleeping that morn, her face faintly barred by the sunlight that crept in through the window slats, the lightmotes that in the morningtide haze like starlight besprent her; a sight of such quiet radiance, such divine solemnity, that it was as if beholding Aradia Herself in slumber. And in my mind so beclouded and fettered in perplexity, there is only one thing of which I now am certain: never has there been, nor ever will there be, such an honest beauty as hers.

¶V. Always I will remember the image of her sleeping that morn, her face faintly barred by the sunlight that in through the window slats crept, the lightmotes that in the morningtide haze like starlight besprent her; a sight of such quiet radiance, such divine solemnity, that it was as beholding Aradia Herself in slumber. And in my mind so beclouded and fettered in perplexity, there is only one thing of which I now am certain: never has there been, nor ever will there be, such an honest beauty as hers.

Always I will remember the image of her sleeping that morning. Her face faintly barred by the sunlight that crept in through the window slats, the dust that in the morningtide haze like starlight besprent her; a sight of such quiet radiance, such divine solemnity, that it was as if beholding Aradia Herself in slumber. And in my mind so beclouded and fettered in perplexity, there is only one thing of which I am now certain: never has there been, nor ever will there be, such an honest beauty as hers.

¶I.

At times I wish she had invoked her authority as a Priestess of Aradia to prevent my going to Necropolis, to order me to remain with her. She never would have. Perhaps if she had at any time seen the fear in mine eyes overcome that spark of lust for heroism, perhaps then she might have forbid it. But she knew of the importance of the mission, and could never have forgiven herself for keeping me with her.

¶I.

Hers assuredly is a love so perfect and boundless no number of mere words could feign encompass it. To allow a lover to so wager his own life, to risk forever losing him, so that he might face what bane could prove itself his honorable death in service to his Gods -- there is no such love but hers, none more pure. Forever will I blaspheme the Fates and in gravest conviction do so, for only They could permit me to find myself by such love damned.

¶I.

Of all the things I’ve lost, she was the most costly.

¶I.

¶VII. Of all the things I’ve lost, she was fast the most costly.

Of all the things I’ve lost, she was the most costly.

¶VI. Of all the things I’ve lost, she was the most costly.

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 14th, VII 4632

¶I.

There were sent that day two Centuries of us, being one hundred-thirteen men and eighty-seven women. Both were Cavalry, for expedience being the foremost necessity in this matter, we could not afford the sloth of our Legion’s Infantry.

When we left that morning there were two Centuries of us, being one hundred-thirteen men and eighty-three women. Both Centuries were Cavalry, for the necessity of expedience in this matter dictated we could not afford the sloth of our Legion’s Infantry. We brought with us only a single horse per each Paladin, and only a single remount per each two. There was among us not a single Scribe, nor were there Legionaries of any rank lesser than those necessary to our task.

When we left that morning there were two Centuries of us, being one hundred-thirteen men and eighty-three women. Both Centuries were Cavalry, for the necessity of expedience in this matter dictated we could not afford the sloth of our Legion’s Infantry. We brought with us only a single horse per each Paladin, and only a single remount per each two. There was among us nay a single Scribe, nor were there Legionaries of any rank lesser than those necessary to our task.

¶I.

We brought with us only two horses per each Paladin; not enow to as oft remount as would be best for our steeds, only enough to hope the journey would not come at too great a cost to the geldings.

¶I.

Our other supplies were neglected as well. We had full water skins yet only limited rations, planning to camp outside the metropoleis along the way, sending small groups in civilian clothing to gather whatever supplies we might need to make it to the next major city.

Neglected would be our other provisions as well. We brought with us full water skins, yet only limited rations. We planned to camp outside the metropoleis along the way, sending small groups in civilian clothing to gather whatever supplies we would require until the next major city.

¶I.

We kept our armor light for the journey, most of us wearing whatever few pieces we thought most vital. Our weapons were equally scarce; we each were armed only with a single roundshield, a longsword, and a glaive. Yet our Centurions: they were harnessed in full plate and carrying longshields, spetums, longswords, and daggers.

Our armour and weapons were sparing, most of us wearing only what few bits of armour we thought most vital, and carrying nobbut our polearms and a single side-arm each. That is, save for our Centurions, who were harnessed in full plate, trailed by flowing white capes, and carried with them shining longswords, spetums, dudgeons, and afore them longshields.

¶I.

Stealth was the objective of our mission, and alacrity. Everything seemed about reaching Necropolis with the least passable cumbrance to our travel, and to that aim all but the most essential of provender seemed an intolerable expense.

Stealth was the objective of our mission, and alacrity. Everything seemed about reaching Necropolis with the least tolerable cumbrance to our travel, and nearly everything seemed an unnecessary expense to that aim.

¶I.

When the next morning the Dawn awoke from His sanctuary beyond the furthest vales, we all felt the dying inside of us, for on that as the day before the weight of the world seemed upon our shoulders. And so we arose from our tents and disembarked unto the fortress-city of Nevern, at all times minding of our campaign’s import, and of our own importance thereby. And martyrdom indwelt all our hearts that day.

When awoke the Dawn the next morning from His sanctuary beyond the furthest vales on Sunday morn, we all felt a dying inside of us, for just as the day before it seemed upon our shoulders weighed the fate of all the world. And so we arose from our tents and disembarked unto the fortress-city of Nevern, at all times minding the mission’s import, and of our own import thereby. And martyrdom proudly indwelt all our hearts that day.

When the next morning the Dawn awoke from His sanctuary beyond the furthest vales, we all felt the dying inside of us, for on that as the day before the weight of the world seemed upon our shoulders. And so we arose from our tents and disembarked unto the fortress-city of Krendor, at all times minding of our campaign’s import, and of our own importance thereby. And martyrdom indwelt all our hearts that day.

¶I.

I admit fully that my thoughts rested exceedingly little on Alyssandra as we traveled through the Viridian Forest along the Sterling-Nevern highway. So this by intention. I endeavored always to keep our journey’s purpose foremind, and fend away whatsoever thoughts might have compromised my dedication to its success, and so had I necessarily cast out from my mind that one thing that beckoned my heart home from me.

I admit fully that my thoughts rested exceedingly little upon Alyssandra as we travelled along the Sterling-Nevern highway through the Viridian Forest. So this by intention. Always I endeavoured to keep foremind our campaign’s intent, and to awayward fend whatsoever thoughts might have compromised my constancy to its success, and so had I necessarily cast out from my mind that one thing which beckoned my heart home from me.

I admit fully that my thoughts weighed exceedingly little on Alyssandra as we traveled through the Viridian Forest along the Sterling-Krendor highway. So this by intention. I endeavored always to keep our journey’s purpose foremind, and to fend away whatsoever thoughts might have compromised my dedication to its success, and so had I necessarily cast out from my mind that one thing that beckoned my heart home from me.

¶I.

Such is the warrior’s bond, to strive unending for a personhood driven not by the passions of blood and bone, but instead by the steel chains and unbending gears of duty, assaying always for a soul bound as clockwork in all its ways. With each new day there is inside of us a new death, and with each new day there’s upon us a new martyrdom, as each new day we surrender the self in all its individuality, to whomsoever we should be obliged in service to bow. Thus for ever do we linger on in nigh-undeath, having resigned our souls not unto the Gods we reverence, but unto Centurions, Legates, and Priests.

Such it is to be a warrior, ever striving for a personhood driven not by the passions of flesh and blood, but by the chains and gears of our duty. Ever striving for a clockwork soul. With each new day there is a dying inside of us, whether it be felt or not, and with each new day there’s a new martyrdom upon us, as each new day we pitch the self and its individuality aside in our strivings. Forever we thus linger in nigh undeath, having surrendered our souls not unto the Gods we serve, but unto Centurions, Legates, and Priests.

Yet never have these circadian necroses been more clearly felt than by us upon our journey to Necropolis. And so whilst enduring our inner-undeath we set camp outside of the fortress-city as the Sun began His setting.

¶I.

Yet never have these circadian necroses been more clearly felt than by us upon our journey to Necropolis. And so whilst enduring our inner-undeath we set camp outside of Nevern Borough as the Sun began His setting.

Yet never have these circadian necroses been more clearly felt than by us upon our journey to Necropolis. And so whilst enduring our inner-undeaths we set ourselves camp outside of Nevern Borough, as the Sun began His setting.

¶I.

No one sang that night. Nor did the veterans tell their stories of unlikely victories in years past. Nor were the younger of us boasting about the lovely lasses that awaited us back home. None told tales of the monsters that dwell in the darks of Béowyn’s forests, or of the demons that lurk in the hills. The only words spoken were our own solitary prayers. We all just waited there for sleep to befall us, and for morning to swiftly come.

No one sang that night. Nor did the veterans tell their stories of unlikely victories in decades past. Nor were the younger of us boasting anent the lovely lasses that awaited us back home. None told tales of the monsters that dure in the darks of Béowyn’s forests, or of the demons that lurk in the shades of the hills. The only words were our own prayers singly spoken, as we all there waited for sleep to befall us, and for morrow to swiftly come.

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 15th, VII 4632

¶I.

Growing up in Dunloft, my mind was filled with stories of legendary heroes the likes of Beowulf, Gilgamesh, Hercules, and Jason, charging headlong into the lairs of monstrous beasts and slaying them with all the wrath of the Gods Themselves; and of arrays of warriors in glistening armor, riding amain into battle with banners waving and horns sounding, battling gloriously against insurmountable foes by sheer merit of irreproachable virtue. Though my training should have taught me better, I couldn’t help but imagine such things when at first I’d been called for the mission. But the reality seemed far blander as we neared the city of Sterling. For us there were no horns, no banners -- only half plates of armor, unshaven faces, and actons laden in sweat.

Spending my youth in Dunloft, my mind was filled with stories of legendary heroes charging headlong into the lairs of monstrous beasts and slaying them with all the wrath of the Gods Themselves; and of arrays of warriors in glistening armour, riding amain into battle with banners waving and horns sounding, battling gloriously against insurmountable foes by sheer merit of irreproachable virtue. Though my training should have taught me otherwise, I couldn’t help but imagine such things when at first I’d been called for the mission. But the reality seemed far blander as we neared the city of Sterling. For us there were no horns, no banners -- only half plates of armour, unshaven faces, and actons laden in sweat.

Growing up in Ravenshire, my mind was filled with stories of legendary heroes the likes of Beowulf, Gilgamesh, Hercules, and Jason, charging headlong into the lairs of monstrous beasts and slaying them with all the wrath of the Gods Themselves; and of arrays of warriors in glistening armor, riding amain into battle with banners waving and horns sounding, battling gloriously against insurmountable foes by sheer merit of irreproachable virtue. Though my training should have taught me better, I couldn’t help but imagine such things when at first I’d been called for the mission. But the reality seemed far blander as we neared the city of Sterling. For us there were no horns, no banners -- only half plates of armor, unshaven faces, and actons laden in sweat.

¶I.

We made camp within an hour’s walk of the city after a day of travel through the Sterling Hills by way of the Hathor-Sterling highway. Ten were selected oddly to wend into Sterling and retrieve enough provisions for the ride to Krendor Borough, while the remainder of us abode at camp for their return. The Centurions had been allowed no accompaniment of squires to fawn over them, that chore was accorded instead to the Legionaries. Everything went as was planned that night, though nothing was as it should have been.

We made camp within an hour’s walk of the city after a day of travel through the Sterling Hills by way of the Landley-Sterling highway. Ten were selected oddly to wend into Sterling and retrieve enough provisions for the ride to Nevern Borough, while the remainder of us abode at camp for their return. The Centurions had been allowed no accompaniment of squires to fawn over them, that chore was accorded instead to the Legionaries. Everything went as was planned that night, though nothing was as it should have been.

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 15th, VII 4632

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 15th, VII 4632

¶I.

Ten more Paladins were chosen to retrieve provender for the ride to ___, whilst the rest of us tended to our geldings. Any conversation that took place between us was lusterless, nearly acquiescent in spirit. We ate a bit more heartily that evening when the other Legionaries returned, yet managed to leave a more than adequate sampling of our meal as an offering. We broke thereon into small parties for group prayer, then shortly disbanded and bedded down. In all, the evening had passed no less insipidly than the yester.

Ten more Paladins were chosen to retrieve provender for the ride to Seaport, whilst the rest of us tended to our geldings. Any conversation between us was lustreless, almost acquiescent in design. Once the other Legionaries had returned we ate a bit more heartily than the evening prior, yet we natheless managed an adequate sampling of our meal to leave in thanksgiving to the forest sprights. We thereon broke into small parties for group prayer, and when finished shortly disbanded and bedded down. In all, the night passed no less insipidly than the yester.

Ten more Paladins were chosen to retrieve provender for the ride to Seaport, whilst the rest of us tended to our geldings. Any conversation that took place between us was lusterless, nearly acquiescent in spirit. We ate a bit more heartily that evening when the other Legionaries returned, yet managed to leave a more than adequate sampling of our meal as an offering. We broke thereon into small parties for group prayer, then shortly disbanded and bedded down. In all, the evening had passed no less insipidly than the yester.

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 16th, VII 4632

¶I.

We endured the late autumn’s icy rains as we set forth the on Moonday morning from our campsite outside Nevern Borough, mantled in hooded cloaks grey as the roadway neath our horses’ hooves and sombre skies above. As hoary Deaths we must’ve looked, incessing endlong the Nevern-Havenport highway, travailing to reach the North Havenport before midday.

¶I.

We would neither have desired the visibility of travel aboard a naval ship, nor would we have been there welcomed, and so Legate Elfrede had already arranged for our passage across the Gulf of Béowyn aboard the trade ship Dreadnaught. The Dreadnaught was the only galleon of its kind, for it had built into it provisional riggers and oarlocks, and was by a crew of handsomely-paid rowers altimes staffed, making it the swiftest and most reliable merchant ship in all the Scandian lands.

¶I.

Captain Kara Ringulf, commandress-elect and quartermistress of the Dreadnaught, held a place of infamy amongst the wealthy, and amongst the poor: renown. Pirates by repute, she and her shipmates were said to raid the vessels of other traders, plundering from the rich and sharing their loot with the local thieves’ guilds. Yet hers being the only ship that offered regular and punctual ferrying of persons, beasts, or freight across the Gulf, the cities of North and South Havenport were ever fain to turn a blind eye to her occasional piracies, and to offer free room and board to her rowers; for it was the dependability afforded her by her ship and crew that made her operation the pith of North and South Havenport’s economies.

¶I.

The first memory I had of my betrothed, at least of those significant that I had by intent allowed myself, came as the Dreadnaught brought us out of the North Havenport Fjord and into the open sea. The last time I had sailed across the Gulf was with Alyssandra, aboard a small knarr on our way to visit her parents in Cottwood Hollow.

¶I.

If only to hear her voice once more, even but the briefest laugh or gentlest of whispers, this assuredly would quell my lovelorn heart, and quicken my fainted soul. To again converse with her, to begaze her every countenance and gesture so genuine, so unimpaired by diffidence yet vacant even the subtlest trace of pretension. To be thereby enraptured, even if my mind oft be lame to follow the unbridled perspicacity of her thoughts.

¶I.

The wind was strong at our backs that day, as we were by midnight docked in South Havenport, having seldom needed the assistance of the Dreadnaught’s rowers.

¶I.

That night we sought requiem at the Red Lattice Inn, the most acclaimed mead-hall in all of Jutland, and perhaps all of Southern Béowynland. It would be our one and lone night of luxury, the only we’d be allotted. Many a bottle’s end I there searched for a thing that would raise my spirit, till in drunken stupor I wandered from the main hall, questing perilously for my room. As to what thereafter may have happed, my recollection fails me utterly.

¶I.

Tuesday, Holymonth 17th, VII 4632

¶I.

We departed from the Red Lattice at sunup and rode southward along the Havenport-Sheredale

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 14th, VII 4632

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 16th, VII 4632

Chapter II
“Road to Necropolis”

¶I.

¶II. I rode with my company out of our camp at Hathor, to Krendor Borough by way of Sterling. From Krendor we traveled by ship across Oresund to Jylland, and on horseback south of Jylland to Ravenshire. From there we traveled west into Kielden, and then south until we reached Stenholt in Andalshire. From Stenholt we proceeded to Dresdell, near the valley where the kingdoms of Béowynland, Faelore, and Midgard converged.

¶I.

¶III. There remained from Dresdell a mere forty miles of broad, smooth roadway between ourselves and that nexus of the three kingdoms. And it was that nexus, the Valley of Necropia, wherein our destination awaited.

¶I.

¶II. We disembarked from Dresdell with one hundred and fifty Paladins and two hundred horses.

¶I.

¶IV. None of us imagined it would’ve taken three nightmarish days to traverse that last bit of road, or the horrors we encountered along the way.

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 14th, VII 4632

¶I.

Odinsday, Holymonth 18th, VII 4632

¶I.

Sheredale-Cruxham. Crowbridge

¶I.

Thorsday, Holymonth 19th, VII 4632

¶I.

Crowbridge-Enborough

¶I.

Freyday, Holymonth 20th, VII 4632

¶I.

Enborough-Leighton

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 21st, VII 4632

¶I.

We awoke on Saturnday morn, the twenty-first of Holymonth; a sennight since we’d disembarked from our Paladin camp in Landley, and not one of us remained unwearied.

¶I.

Leighton-Crighton

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 22nd, VII 4632

¶I.

Crighton-Baxbury

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 23rd, VII 4632

¶I.

Baxbury-Eindale

¶I.

Tuesday, Holymonth 24th, VII 4632

¶I.

The second Tuesday of our journey

¶I.

Eindale-

¶I.

Odinsday, Holymonth 25th, VII 4632

¶I.

Thorsday, Holymonth 26th, VII 4632

¶I.

Freyday, Holymonth 27th, VII 4632

¶I.

-Hollows End

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 28th, VII 4632

¶I.

Hollows End-Brayfield

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 29th, VII 4632

¶I.

Brayfield-Holdley

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 30th, VII 4632

¶I.

Holdley-Ravenshire

¶I.

Tuesday, Holymonth 31st, VII 4632

¶I.

Ravenshire-

¶I.

Odinsday, Holymonth 32nd, VII 4632

¶I.

Thorsday, Holymonth 33rd, VII 4632

¶I.

Freyday, Holymonth 34th, VII 4632

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 35th, VII 4632

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 36th, VII 4632

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 16th, VII 4632

¶I.

Tuesday, Holymonth 17th, VII 4632

¶I.

Odinsday, Holymonth 18th, VII 4632

¶I.

Thorsday, Holymonth 19th, VII 4632

¶I.

Freyday, Holymonth 20th, VII 4632

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 21st, VII 4632

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 22nd, VII 4632

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 23rd, VII 4632

¶I.

Tuesday, Holymonth 24th, VII 4632

¶I.

Odinsday, Holymonth 25th, VII 4632

¶I.

Thorsday, Holymonth 26th, VII 4632

¶I.

Freyday, Holymonth 27th, VII 4632

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 28th, VII 4632

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 29th, VII 4632

¶I.

Moonday, Holymonth 30th, VII 4632

¶I.

Tuesday, Holymonth 31st, VII 4632

¶I.

Odinsday, Holymonth 32nd, VII 4632

¶I.

Thorsday, Holymonth 33rd, VII 4632

¶I.

Freyday, Holymonth 34th, VII 4632

¶I.

Saturnday, Holymonth 35th, VII 4632

¶I.

Sunday, Holymonth 36th, VII 4632

Chapter III
“Hell’s Tempest”

¶I.

¶I. The first day dawned, and the city was swathed in a fog so thick we could scarsely see the mortar beneath our feet.

¶I.

¶III.

¶I.

¶IV. The murrain had looked into our souls and knew which of us it meant to spare, and which of us its hand would claim.

¶I.

¶V.

¶I.

¶VI. That day we prayed what would be our very last prayer; a single, solitary plea:

¶I.

¶VII. If only to die, if only to die and be away from this place; this place, this horror, and to die herein and go not one step more -- to die in the terror already upon us and never see our fate awaiting. O Gods above grant us this if no other wish and forever shall we be thankful: take us now in mercy or ill, for it matters no more.

¶I.

¶VIII. Never again shall I doubt the mercy of the Gods, for in what transpired next this prayer was for most granted.

Chapter IV
“The Temptation”

¶I.

βI¶I. [Long Version] Sunday, Holymonth 36th, VII 4632 Worn and forfought was Lodin, that lonely survived the battle mere hours before, a Paladin staggering neath the haunt of memory’s weight through those life-reft streets of the City of the Dead. His bowels were churned and pallet sickened by what stench of lethe still thickly at his nostrils lingered, by what taste still soured his throat. Shone paly down was the barren calm by the Moon above, Her silvern light cast faintly upon those ancient streets wherever unhindered it raught. And in that withering calm did he endure those terrors, those terrors that from all the city’s shadowy fells seemed intent to stalk him, as a forpined gripe biding to claim for prey what weary thing would wander and fall where moonlight ceased pervade. But he travailed yet, ever limping toward the Temple of Mortifer. Heavily upon his mind and heart did remembrances of his beloved Alyssandra lay. Only a short time had it been sith together they’d planned to handfast upon his return from Necropolis, but he now feared that day would never come. He would die here, it seemed to him, but at least he would die honorably in service of his Gods.

¶I.

Altimes he was surrounded in malefic shades the once proud metropolis vailed upon him, as he lumbered wearily on. All around cob tenements were collapsed into the roadways below, amidst the colonnades and peristyles that in ruin lay; as if before his very eyes, to dust they crumbled away. All the streets were cluttered in rubble and stone, and bore scars of a city by fires scathed, fires set and fires raged, in days that long sith passed.

¶I.

With each taken eastward step he found his mind more burdened, by thought of what mote have lurked in the black of the city’s stows. By certain account of certain folk, Necropolis was given her name by what travelers too nigh her strayed, returning with tales of Ghosts, and Devils, and Ghouls, and Draugs, and all manner of ghastly thing that stalked there the streets in nightfall’s depths. All manner of thing that affrayed. She was a city by inception accursed to be a realm the living nether of all things natural unto the world. But the truth of her past was far darker than stories told lighthearted by fireside, and this Lodin well knew. This was a city of darkness such, that upon nobbut souls it preyed.

¶I.

And through the horrid city’s shades he trudged, overcome swith by anamneses of that battle, wherein he’d seen slain his fellow Paladins by darksome Mortifer’s Knights.

¶I.

A sudden rustling of branches not far from him. The same, the very same the Paladins heard only just moments before the ambush, by Mortifer’s Knights laid.

¶I.

And shouting.

¶I.

Lodin heard in those lifeless streets, the cries of his fellow Legionaries as they battled their Mortiferean foes, their suffered wails, and the clashing against armor of sword and glaive.

¶I.

¶I. Alone, forfought Lodin wandered the streets of Necropolis while haunted utterly by the battle that mere hours before had taken place. The horrid stench of blood and entrails still lingered in his nostrils, churning his bowls as the remembered foul odors offended his pallet.

¶I.

¶III. The moon shone its pale light down upon the brick streets of the city, casting on them an eerie calm wherever it was able to reach the ground unobstructed. And in this calm he endured the terrors that seemed to stalk him from every shadow as he limped ever toward the Temple of Mortifer.

¶I.

Yet nowhere he looked was there aught but blacken gloom riven by strips of moonlit stone. Nowhere he looked were there trees, nowhere he looked were there persons. Nothing from which such sounds would emit.

¶I.

Yet louder grew the echoes of cracking bones and clanging steel. So clearly cried out the men’s voices, so clearly he could hear the blood, the bile, the bits of tripe they up-spat; he could hear it clearly, briefly stick and forth come bursting as bellies erupted, by force of violent blow.

¶I.

And in the distance there were laughters wicked and torment-wrought, of sightless Devils that in the city’s blackest reaches taunted, taunted at him from their abodes.

¶I.

Lodin covered up his ears, clenching his eyes shut tightly, and his mind -- it screamed to expel from him those aural specters encroaching upon his pate. And with eyes shut, and ears covered, he stumbled blindly forward.

¶I.

In his mind all he saw was a field in viscera sprent, shields glittered by crimson blood, and polearms strewn with sinews.

¶I.

These memories, these images that took and held him in that battled before waged, with all his tortured mettle he fought at them, to wrench them, to fend from them, to rip them, rip them out, out away his weary, haggard soul.

¶I.

With eyes clenched he saw unspeakable things, his unspeakable things; atrocities he now lonely bore upon his lithered, fightless shoulders, as he tripped through the streets of Necropolis.

¶I.

Inly he reeled and outward swayed, and as he stumbled forward his legs began to falter.

¶I.

And he fell that instant to his hands, to his knees, and he choked down every invention, ever imaginate thing that distraught him, every languishing vision and sound.

¶I.

Into his gut he bade them back, and there silenced them.

¶I.

He fought them away, and in their wake was darkness.

¶I.

And he breathed.

¶I.

Now but for the cadence of his own panting was there quietude, and the Paladin oped his eyes.

¶I.

Palled in what wretched lulls stilled the Necropolitan streets did Lodin find himself once more. What escapes from the hauntings of his own thoughts could suffer him such wroth, without the city of Necropolis? It seemed in that moment of little profit to attempt retaining whatever was left in him of his sanity, than allow himself sickened by the madnesses that would so vilely divert his mind.

¶I.

But in this quest he nary would yield, lest never come his dawn. For there were but him none left to complete the mission, and not his brethren, himself, nor his Gods would he so fail by fleeing now that opposition afore and within him bade.

¶I.

So he raised his eyes from the cobblestone path, and he brought fore his gaze, endlong the street that before him lay.

¶I.

And as he looked, away up ahead and to the right, he beheld there a dim light, coming from one of the buildings.

¶I.

¶IV. Then, up ahead and to the right, he saw a dim light coming from one of the buildings.

¶I.

¶V. ‘More knights?’ he thought.

¶I.

‘More knights?’ he thought.

¶I.

Shakily he clambered up and began to look around him, essaying to ken wherefrom he’d stumbled. Yet wheresoever he looked were only identic ambages that raught far as he could tell, and all of them in shadow horrid-bent.

¶I.

But still yet was he pointed eastward, still unto the Temple of Mortifer wending. And so he drew his longsword, and toward the light he crept.

¶I.

His heart beat slow and hard in his chest. Against his ribs it thrust. His stomach knotted and sank, twisting him within as up his throat its bile sneaked. His legs grew heavy, his shoulders weak, and his arms grew nearly numb.

¶I.

And when finally he neared the light, he saw it came from a store’s window.

¶I.

As Lodin approached the shop he saw its frontispiece, stark and plain, that bore its neighbors’ burns; a scorched and blackened construct matching its surrounds. In its face was set a large window, beclouded in soot and serrately down its center cleft, yet otherwise intact. A single small door was to the window’s left, with edges by fire receded crudely, and from round its fringes there softly glowed a yellored light.

¶I.

Lodin stood before the glass, wiped away the swarthy dross, and he peered inside.

¶I.

Within the unfurnished shop, nigh the room’s back wall by warmth of the nearby stove and by bright of her lanthorn’s gilded light, there slept a petite young maid. With her back to the window she lay atop her unfurled bedroll, her backpack as her pillow. And Lodin, convinced this slumbering lass posed him no threat, he sheathed his blade and upon the glass he lightly rapped.

¶I.

Startly the girl awaked, and from its rest upsprang her head. Lodin already had run to the door ere she had even the chance to arise, and he oped it just as the girl was climbing to her feet. And as his glance fell more clearly upon her now than the moment agone, he instantly was left agape.

¶I.

Sith youth he’d been taught never to so objectify a woman by noticing above whatsoever else merit of her beatitude’s prowess, yet in this instant he couldn’t help but stare.

¶I.

Her beauty was such that she must’ve gathered it of the legends themselves, for she was the exemplar of femininity. No more than five feet of height, so sleek and slender was her frame that no Human woman could’ve healthfully matched it. Her face was youthful and fair, with features both soft and delicate: a modest chin, a buttonish nose, and skin flawless and satin. Her eyes were of the most vibrant rime-blue, and almost shockingly large; shining as the purest ice and chilling to the core any who would’ve gazed upon them, and edged by lashes so dark and thick that by contrast they set her eyes afire. Her lips were full and pouting, silken, beckoningly. Her hair was of dark auburn, hip-length; an elegant brown mane that was the perfect backdrop for her thin and swanlike neck, even as the hair flowed mistfully down over her slightly pointed ears, whilst trailing down either side of her face was a single blonde lock. Her arms were delicate and nimble, both thin and well formed. Her torso was narrow and tith, endowed with breasts larger than honeydews and very nigh so sphery, that highly upon her chest were set, jutting uplifted forward as though free of all gravity’s bonds. Her waist was beyond reason tapered, and her abdomen lean and slightly incurved. Her hips, stalwart and hardy, sloped faultlessly into her generous hindquarters; haunches perfectly rounded and firm, shaped as if by sculptors of mythic renown. Her legs were svelte, somewhat unusually so, yet crafted with muscle and curve of breathtaking allure, and just slightly too long for her body.

¶I.

¶VII. Her beauty was such that she seemed to have gathered it of the legends themselves, for she was the exemplar of femininity. No more than five and a quarter feet in height, her frame was so sleek and slender that no Human woman could’ve healthfully matched it. Her face was youthful and fair, with features both soft and delicate: a modest chin, a buttonish nose, and skin flawless and satin. Her eyes were of the most vibrant rime-blue, and almost shockingly large; shining as the purest ice and chilling to the core any who would’ve gazed upon them, and edged with lashes so dark and thick as to set her eyes afire by contrast. Her lips were full and pouting, silken, beckoningly. Her hair was a dark auburn, hip-length; an elegant brown mane that was the perfect backdrop for her thin, swanlike neck, even as it flowed mistfully over her pointed ears whilst a single blonde lock trailed down either side of her face. Her arms were delicate and nimble. Her torso was narrow and slight, equipped with breasts larger and more sphery than honeydews, obtruding forward uplifted. Her waist was tapered beyond reason, her stomach lean and slightly incurved. Her hips, stalwart and hardy, sloped faultlessly into her generous hindquarters; haunches perfectly round and granite, as though sculpted by some legendary artist. Her legs were svelte, somewhat unusually so, yet crafted with muscle and curve of breathtaking allure, and just slightly too long for her height.

¶I.

Scantly she had dressed herself, unlikely for another reason than to ostent what assets Nature had seen fit to bequeath her. Her upper body sported a linen bust-bodice, thin and unpadded, with a scooping shoulderless neckline, long belled sleeves, and a lace-up front. Plainly it was tailored for a woman of proportions far less sonsie than she, which prevented her from pulling its panels together so far as was by design intended. And thus was the immensity of her chest, and the manner in which the bodice was forced to fit her, that her unthinkably taut midriff was left naked as well. Her strossers were tailored of black leather, bell-bottomed and extremely low-risen, covering little but her legs and leaving unclad most of her hips and croup, and below her navel, several inches of skin.

¶I.

¶VIII. Her dress was scant, to say the least. Her upper body sported a linen bust-bodice, thin and unpadded, with a shoulderless, scooping neckline, long belled sleeves, and a lace-up front. The bodice very obviously was made for a woman of far less sonsie proportions, which prevented her from pulling it together in front as far as it was designed, and resultantly left bare remarkable expanses of her round and seemingly weightless breasts, as the garment strained so hard to hold together that the fraying laces which spanned the gap between its panels threatened to give way at any moment. And so was the sheer immensity of her chest, and the manner in which the bodice was forced to fit her, that her unthinkably taut midriff was left naked as well. Her trousers were tailored of black leather, bell-bottomed and extremely low-risen, covering not much else but her legs and leaving her hips and croup mostly unclad, as well as several inches of skin below her navel.

¶I.

The look of her was familiar to Lodin, and as well her kind of dress. In fact she looked almost exactly as someone he knew.

¶I.

¶IX. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed inquisitively and her brow slightly furrowed as she so sensuously approached the Paladin.

¶I.

And she stared at him, her eyes inquisitively narrowed and her brow somewhat furrowed, as she sensuously approached him:

¶I.

¶X. With each seductive step she took her pelvis entrancingly swayed, bell-wavering below her absurdly small waist as a womanly pendulum most beautifully formed. “Who are you?” she asked.

¶I.

With each seductive step she took, her hips seemed intent to wriggle free of her strossers, bell-wavering below her absurdly small waist as a womanly pendulum unerringly formed.

¶I.

She stopped just before him, cocked her hip sharply to one side and rested her hands upon her prat. “Who are you?” she demanded, in her voice a hint of nervous quiver. Even so, the sound was as heavenly as a thousand sirens’ quire.

¶I.

Lodin held high his chin in the manner of pride he felt most befitting a Paladin, and he replied to her: “My name is Kha Lo Din of the Kingdom of Béowyn; Equestrian of the Béowynland Camp of the Latoan Foreign Legions of the Knights of Aradia; Son of Kha Ri Oric the Brave and Crystane Din.”

¶I.

¶XI. “My name is Kha Lo Din, of the Knights of Aradia, and of the Kingdom of Béowyn,” he stated, his chin held proudly high.

¶I.

¶XII. “Is that what I shall call you then, Kha Lo Din of the Knights of Aradia, and of the Kingdom of Béowyn?” the girl enquired in a mocking tone, grinning brightly.

¶I.

¶XIII. Lodin withdrew, gritting his teeth in an awkward grin. “Well, no, I mean, of course you can call me ‘Lodin’.”

¶I.

¶XIV. “Pleased to meet you, Lodin,” the young woman replied.

¶I.

She grinned at him haughtily as he said this. And in the most mocking tone she said unto him: “Is that what I shall call you then, Kha Lo Din of the Kingdom of Béowyn, Equestrian of the Béowynland Camp of the Latoan Foreign Legions of the Knights of Aradia?”

¶I.

In embarrassment the Paladin slightly withdrew, crossing his arms awkwardly. “Well, no, I mean, of course you can call me ‘Lodin’,” he answered.

¶I.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Lodin,” she replied. “Would you like to come in and get warmed up?”

¶I.

“Huh? Wait...” he began, as on his own pounding heart he nearly choked. “I mean, yeah. I should need it.”

¶I.

Lodin let drift shut the door behind him eft the girl led him into the room, and together there by the stove the twain sat. The maiden raught over to backpack and unbuckled it, and pulled from it a half-empty bottle of wine.

¶I.

“You look as though you could use a drink,” she said, holding out to him the bottle.

¶I.

“Thank you,” said Lodin. He took the bottle in his hand, and from it took a swig, and held it out for her to reacquire.

¶I.

She raised her hand in protest. “Take the whole thing; I’m betting you need it. I’d offer something a bit stronger if I had any.”

¶I.

“What about you?” asked the Paladin.

¶I.

“I still have a full skin of ale,” the maid assured him.

¶I.

“So, what could’ve possibly brought a girl like you to a place like Necropolis?”

¶I.

“I was actually hoping to find my sister here.”

¶I.

“You mean Jadia,” the Paladin presumed.

¶I.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Lodin glutted more of the wine. “Well, the two of you look almost exactly alike. Your hair is brown, your eyes are blue, and you don’t have any freckles that I can tell. But otherwise I can’t see any differences between you. I’d go as far as to say the two of you are all but identical to each other.”

¶I.

Still brightly smiling at the Paladin, the girl rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not what I meant. Believe me, I’m well aware of how much Jadia and I look alike. What I meant was, how do you know her?”

¶I.

“We’re friends. Very good friends, actually, though I haven’t seen her since Larissa’s funeral. I knew she’d been looking for you for years, but I had no idea you were searching for her as well. I have to say, though, you really don’t look at all as I remembered -- ”

¶I.

“Stop right there,” she interrupted. “I think you have me confused with my sister, Kyra.”

¶I.

“You’re not Kyra?” asked Lodin, somewhat forstraught.

¶I.

She shook her head. “No, my name’s Gail. Abigail Renee Rowan. Jadia’s my elder sister.”

¶I.

“I didn’t know Jadia had a younger sister,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Neither did she, till we met in Candleton last Ereyule. At first she took me for Kyra as well. So did her friends when she brought me to see them in Idlestone. Now that I think of it, I might recall hearing something of you. Weren’t you betrothed to some Priestess?”

¶I.

Lodin nodded. “Mistress Phoenix Adonia. Though they probably only called her ‘Alyssandra’.”

¶I.

Gail smirked, and she removed from under her pack a skin of ale. She took a drink and then leaned back, propping herself up with one arm. “Ah, so you were the lucky one who managed to sack ‘Miss Foxley the Fair’, eh?” And with that said she gave unto Lodin an allusive, roguish wink.

¶I.

“I wouldn’t say it in those words, exactly, but yes.”

¶I.

“So,” said Gail, “what brings you to a place like Necropolis?”

¶I.

At this query Lodin’s head for a moment hung, his mind briefly again taken to what earlier in the eve had transpired. “I was sent here. Well, we were sent here, I should say. The other Paladins and I. It’s a long story.”

¶I.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

¶I.

“I wouldn’t mind telling it, but unfortunately I haven’t the time. Honestly, I shouldn’t even be here. I have to get to the Temple of Mortifer. I have to get to the Lychstafr before the Mortiferean Knights do.”

¶I.

Gail’s eyes grew wide. “What Mortiferean Knights?”

¶I.

“The Mortiferean Knights that killed the other Paladins,” replied Lodin. “I don’t have the time to explain.”

¶I.

“No, no, you’re going to explain. I have no desire to get killed here. I think I have the right to know about whatever’s happening.”

¶I.

“I have to leave,” Lodin insisted, his tone urgent as he clomb up from the floor.

¶I.

Gail stood up as well, and she grabbed Lodin by the arm. She looked up into his eyes, and she said to him: “Listen, Paladin, there aren’t any Mortiferean Knights here. If you don’t tell me what’s happening....”

¶I.

“What?” asked Lodin. And Gail released his arm.

¶I.

“I’ll kill you,” she replied with a careless shrug, her face stoic, yet eyes suasive.

¶I.

“I’m a Paladin. You couldn’t kill me.”

¶I.

“I’m a thief. You wanna risk it?”

¶I.

“You wouldn’t kill me,” argued Lodin.

¶I.

“Do you wanna risk it?”

¶I.

“I know you’re only jesting.”

¶I.

“Do you wanna risk it?” repeated Gail, yet this time by her own beaming grin betrayed.

¶I.

“I don’t have time to debate the matter. I have to go.”

¶I.

“Then I’m coming with you.”

¶I.

“Fine,” said Lodin, “you’re coming with me.”

¶I.

“Fine,” replied Gail. “Just let me gather my things.”

¶I.

Gail turned and bent herself down, closed up her backpack, quickly rolled up her bedding, and strapped it to her bag. She buckled up the pack and threw it on, then over her shoulder she slung the strap of her ale-skin, and grabbed up also her lanthorn as she stood, along with the bottle of wine.

¶I.

“Here, you almost forgot this,” said Gail, handing the bottle to Lodin.

¶I.

“Thanks,” said Lodin, visibly taken aback at how swiftly she’d readied her supplies. He drank down some of the wine, ere he and Gail left the warmth of the shop, and into the dark of the city.

Chapter IV
“The Enticement”

Chapter V
“The Boneyard”

¶I.

And so together Lodin and Gail set thenceforward east to the Mortiferean Temple, through oppressing and imposing darknesses they had never beforetime encountered, nor dared imagine. And death was all upon the streets, and in that light that broke the shadows there was no life to be found. Nor was there any living thing in all they could see, all they could hear; no crickets that chirped, no wolves that howled, nothing but the hush of a city wracked in the feroce clasp of Mortifer.

¶I.

At penumbrae’s edge it seemed the night’s Demons tarried their moment to strike. Through each of the shades of night the twain walked, it seemed waited for them another danger. And from the hideous deeps wherein such wicked things stole, there it seemed the Demons laughed and moaned and screamed, portending a feast of souls.

¶I.

It was the sort of darkness that in the gallows of midnight veils a world of infinite terrors, that cloaks what monsters children so fear from beneath their beds, and rends young from slumber in shivering sweat. And this darkness, it seemed it breathed against them as they endured it; it seemed aware; it seemed to think and plot their demise.

¶I.

“You know what I’d give for a thief’s fearlessness right about now?” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Your sanity, by the sound of it,” answered Gail. “Let me explain something to you, Paladin: We thieves aren’t fearless. Well, not most of us, anyhow. I know I’m not. Though I’ve been accused of it more times than I can tell. But fear is what keeps us from getting killed. It’s what keeps us from getting caught.”

¶I.

“We Paladins have always held that it doesn’t take any courage to face what one has no fear of; that the man without fear is a fool. But honestly, right now I wouldn’t mind a little foolishness on my part.”

¶I.

And Gail lightly snickered. “We thieves have more in common with you Paladins than you seem to think.”

¶I.

“You’re likely right,” said Lodin. “My friend Will always said that the Paladin stares down the dragon’s gullet and impales it through the roof of its mouth, while the thief attacks it from under its belly; but they both fight the same beast. It takes just as much courage to face a dragon as it does to put yourself under its feet.”

¶I.

“And you know what?” said Gail. “He’s right. My mother, or rather my stepmother, Karianna, she’s an Aradian Priestess herself. I grew up hearing all about how Aradia was sent to Gaya in Human form to teach the Craft to the thieves and assassins -- the poor who were forced to steal and kill for their survival -- to give them freedom from their Kirsome oppressors so they wouldn’t have to steal or kill any longer. About the founding of the Hierophant Council and the Knights of Aradia. About how King Béowyn essentially created the concept of the Latoan Foreign Legions by having a the first one formed in Béowynland, answerable to the Council in Latoa rather than the Crown, so that there would always be someone there to protect the poor against the inevitable corruption of the rich, the politicians, and the lawmen. About how the nations of Faelor and Atland were inspired by his example to do the same.”

¶I.

“How much of it all do you remember?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Quite a bit,” replied Gail. “I can tell you that by your name, Kha Lo Din, I know that your family has been a part of the Béowynland Legion since around the year fifteen-hundred or so of the seventh epoch.”

¶I.

“I’m impressed,” said Lodin. “How do you know that?”

¶I.

“Language. I know quite a bit about languages, and I know that there were a large number of Cathayan nomads in Béowynland around that time, who taught the Paladins about metallurgy, forging superior blades, incendiaries, that sort of thing. A lot of the Paladins were given Cathayan names, and the naming convention stayed in some families. I also know that as far as any legal matters are concerned, your name is Lodin Rioricsson.”

¶I.

“You said ‘languages’. How many do you speak?”

¶I.

“Well,” said Gail, “I’m rather proficient in the Native, Almain, Latoan, Celtic, and of course the Scandian dialect of Atlish, though I wouldn’t really tell those separately, since all the Atlish dialects are so similar. I’m fluent in both the Ryn’naril and Mal’naril dialects of Faenarin. I can speak enough Goblinese to get by. I know a few words and phrases in Modern Latoan and can decipher some Old Latonic, and by extension, even a bit of Saurian. And I also know a bit of Old Atlish, Old Scandian, and Old Almain.”

¶I.

“Say something in Mal’narinae,” Lodin urged.

¶I.

“Firstly, it’s not Mal’narinae,” explained Gail, “it’s Mal’naraen.”

¶I.

“Alright, so, say something in Mal’naraen then.”

¶I.

“Il’llornat’a-lai’taland nil’mbor’mbaen’naumbin’u’th wyr’nisseth’um-il’ssin’tsylin’a’th.”

¶I.

“Quil atly llet quoadat ni Ryn’narinae?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

And with a slight titter in her voice, Gail simpered, “Thil quoadatly: Ila llornat lai taland nilu’th mbor’mbaeneth naumbin wyrethum nisseth ila’th ssineth tsylin.”

¶I.

“I see you’ve got your sister’s lewd sense of fun.”

¶I.

“Who said anything about making fun? It isn’t every day a girl gets the chance to spend her evening with a knight in shining armor.”

¶I.

Lodin smirked, shaking his head.

¶I.

“Relax, Lodin, I’m only trying to keep you on your toes.”

¶I.

“I’m very much ‘on my toes’ in this city, but thanks anyway.” Lodin raught to his side and lightly gripped the hilt of his longsword. “What surprises me, is that you aren’t.”

¶I.

“I feel oddly safer, less affrayed now that you’re here,” confessed the young thief.

¶I.

“I know what you mean,” said Lodin. “Whatever came over you that you’d actually wander into Necropolis by yourself?”

¶I.

“It’s as I said: I was looking for Jadia. I saw her last Erelitha, and she mentioned something about going to Necropolis to search the Centaurian Catacombs for treasure. I wanted to go back to Taillionor for a stay, if for no other reason than to let my guild know I was still alive. So, we made plans to meet in Necropolis three days before Shadowfest. I arrived yestermorn, somewhat earlier than I meant. Our plan was to meet near the old Mortiferean Temple, so I’ve been staying about the area. I reckoned she’d likely see my lanthorn if she took the time to search around at all.”

¶I.

“I hope you, or we, can find her,” said Lodin. “And again, thank you. I truly appreciate you offering to lend me rest back there.”

¶I.

“And I wholly appreciate you dragging me back out into the cold,” returned Gail.

¶I.

Lodin raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that your way of accepting my thanks?”

¶I.

“No, that’s my way of making fun to keep my mind off this cursed city. And don’t worry yourself with thanking me. No self-respecting thief would allow a ‘Champion of the Poor’ such as yourself wander about in the cold like you were, especially in a place of such repute as Necropolis.”

¶I.

As they walked the buildings that once surrounded them were in those moments shortly left, having given way swith to deadwoods darkly shrouded, and a sky by black and twisting branches thatched. Not a single sound was come from the trees’ limbs, nor could there be heard the slightest of leaves falling. And they were now very near the Temple as the distant Devils ceased their cries.

¶I.

“What’s this?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

Gail held the lanthorn out before her, casting faintly a light upon the rotted, withered boles. “I’d suppose it was once a park of some kind. I saw it yesterday from a distance, though I haven’t ventured this close yet to the Temple itself.”

¶I.

“No, this, on the ground.” Lodin bent himself down, and began to examine what it was he’d happened upon. Gail looked with him, bringing her lanthorn nearer the cobblestones as she stooped. And lying there on the cold cobble road was a charred and carious thighbone, as that of a slight Human woman, or perhaps an Elven man.

¶I.

“It looks like part of a leg,” said Gail. Then in her curiosity she arose and took herself a few steps fore, and she shone her lanthorn’s light further up the path. “Look,” she said, “there’re more of them.”

¶I.

Slowly stepped the twain ahead, looking all about the roadway that in femurs, mandibles, craniums, vertebras, ribs, phalanges, teeth, innominates, and every other sort of Mannish part was littered. Each step by the twain taken brought them into thicker a groundcover of those fleshless lykes. And as they kept on the unfasted bones betimes so densely overlay the cobbles that Lodin and Gail were forced to walk upon them, and staying their course atop the scattered skeletal path they carefully did onward wend.

¶I.

“It occurs to me, just now,” said Gail, “that walking across a carpet of bones, in the middle of a city built atop an ancient cemetery miles from the nearest town, trying to reach an abandoned temple erected in honor of a God worshipped as the Bringer of Death, in the dark of night with strange voices screaming in the distance, doesn’t quite fit into the ‘intelligent things to do’ category, now does it?”

¶I.

Lodin shook his head. “Not even nearly. But, at least the voices have stopped now that we’re almost to the temple.”

¶I.

“And never before has my heart been so filled with contentment.”

¶I.

“Now you’re being sarcastic.”

¶I.

“Wow, Lodin, however could you possibly have kenned that? I wasn’t being obvious about it or anything.”

¶I.

“You know,” said Lodin, “most intelligent folk say that sarcasm is the lowliest form of wit.”

¶I.

“Right. The most intelligent thing to do right now, would be to say absolutely nothing, and wait for the littlest sound we don’t immediately recognize as coming from our own footsteps to fright us straight out of our boots.”

¶I.

“We should remain alert,” Lodin asserted.

¶I.

“There’s such a thing as being too alert,” replied Gail. “There’s a verse in the Paginae Autolyci that says, ‘Ever be thou wary, but never in excess; lest thou burglest with all the sleight of an artless fool.’ Every thief knows that.”

¶I.

“Well I’m not a thief, and I don’t follow the Paginae Autolyci. My holy books are the Paginae Aradiae, the Paginae Dianae, the Paginae Luciferum, and the Fases Ad Palatinum, and they say nothing of that sort.”

¶I.

“Then those are incomplete books. You can’t simply ignore all the rest of the Bibliothecae Ex Deorum, you know.”

¶I.

“The Paginae Autolyci isn’t even part of standard Bibliothecal canon. It’s apocryphal.”

¶I.

“Lodin, don’t you dare begin talking to me about apocrypha. The only reason the Paginae Autolyci is listed apocryphal is because the canon was decided upon during the Latoan Trinitarian period, when all but the Paginae Luciferum, Dianae, and Aradiae were regarded as superfluous, and thus non-canonical at the time. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the truthfulness of the other books, and you know it.” Gail then poked her tongue out in jest at the Paladin, and smiled.

¶I.

At her Lodin merely stared his response, for taken from him was all sense to frame his words.

¶I.

“Alright,” said the thief, “perhaps you don’t know it.”

¶I.

“No, it isn’t that,” replied Lodin, shaking his head. “I just haven’t known any thief to be so passionate about, or even concerned with spiritual matters.”

¶I.

“It bothers me at times too. I can’t begin to tell the number of thieves in Taillionor that would come back to the guild chambers after a heist and walk right through the shrine of Autolycus, without so much as stopping at the altar to tithe or offer even the slightest measure of sacrifice. I mean, even if they don’t want to pay their respects to the Lord of Rogues, they could at the least help to support their guild.”

¶I.

“Has mandating it yet been considered?”

¶I.

“Honoring Autolycus, or tithing? Never mind that, don’t even bother answering. We would never consider mandating either of those. If we were to do that, we’d be no better than the people we steal from.” Nothing more was in that instant said between them as out of the deadwood holt they came, from one trail floored in bone and onto still another, that before them bound a wall wrought of gleaming black and asper stone. Higher-raught was it even than all the trees of the park that behind them lay, no less of height than twenty cubits, louring and sheer.

¶I.

Away behind the wall lay the Mortiferean Temple, at base a black, truncate pyramid that proudly stood at center of its court, so great its plane’s edge could be seen not twenty feet outside the wall. Risen from this base there was a black column, ascending no less than three hundred cubits at its highest point, and spanning in breadth not less than fifty but for the arch-arrayed stairway that rounded it. And at its crest there perched a great tower; a domed fortress high upborne above the diresome city that ever it evilly watched.

¶I.

In that place outside the wall not even the light of the Moon Herself was spared the temple’s eclipse, and there in awe stood Lodin and Gail, for never hitherto had they been so near it. Wherefrom stood they with the Moon barely shining from behind the underpinned fort, could be seen the bastions at its shadow’s edge, and from the thief and Paladin’s angle, the verandas that betwixt the bastions broadly enclaved it.

¶I.

“It’s a bit less phallic close-up, wouldn’t you say?”

¶I.

“Gail, this isn’t the time for jesting. We need to find a way inside.”

¶I.

“Oh, that’s easy,” said Gail. “We just head for the southern pylon.”

¶I.

“Southern pylon?”

¶I.

“Yeah. It’s a place of worship, but it’s a defensive position as well, which means it will have only one entryway. The pylon will face south to align with the Southern Gate. It is a Mortiferean temple, after all. Ergo, we have only to head for the southern pylon to find our way in.”

¶I.

“How in Hell could you know that?” asked Lodin, furrowing his brow.

¶I.

Gail smirked coltishly, and she said to him: “Well, I’ve plundered a couple of old ruins in my short life.”

¶I.

“Even so, you can’t be certain of that. You’re only guessing at it.”

¶I.

“Have you a better plan?”

¶I.

Lodin pursed his lips, and for the next few moments breathed through his nose as he stared at the wall. “Alright,” he said with a sigh, “let’s go.”

Chapter VI
“Acquisitions”

¶I.

¶I. With its right arm the demon pointed at her, and glared, and as a great surge a steely tendril uncoiled forward from its arm, ever whirling in loose gyres as though round an unseen spindle aimed at her by the demon’s finger.

Chapter 1
“The Temptation”

¶I.

13th Month, 19th Night, VII 4632

¶I.

Lodin found himself drifting through the streets of Necropolis, haunted by the battle that had taken place mere hours before. The horrid stench of blood and entrails lingered in his nostrils, churning his bowels as the foul odor violated his pallet. Pale moonlight from above fell short of the vacant alleys below, painting an already eerie atmosphere with a blood-chilling calm. Lodin was left reminisce the battle in which his brigade had been exterminated; a squadron sent to Necropolis by the Knights of Aradia to retrieve the Grimoire of Chthonicus from the Temple of Mortifer, and from the Mortiferean Knights who guarded it there.

¶I.

All Lodin could think about now was Alyssandra, his beloved fiancée. They were supposed to be handfasted upon his return from this mission, but the brigade had already been gone for so long just trying to find Necropolis -- and now Lodin was the only Paladin left among the entire group. He couldn’t stand being away from her for so long. He found himself thinking about her nearly every moment; her big doe-eyes, such a dark brown that when they glimmered in the light he felt as though he were traversing the heavens themselves; her infectious, toothy smile; her face that always seemed so honest and animated; her eyebrows which intensified each expression; her wavy, light-blonde hair; and the feeling of her touch. He couldn’t help missing her tremendously. Alyssandra was, after all, one of the most beautiful women he’d ever set eyes upon; aside from the obvious splendor of her warm, caring face was the kind of body most men only dreamed of -- a trim waist, curvy hips, gorgeous legs, and a very generous bust made Alyssandra the envy of every woman in Béowyn, and Lodin the envy of every man. Above that, Alyssandra was a deeply spiritual, very intelligent young woman capable of speaking on equal terms with scholars and philosophers several decades her senior. Most of all, though, Lodin missed Alyssandra’s soothing voice, her loving soul, and the way she never ceased to fill his heart with contentment.

¶I.

Now Lodin was utterly alone to wander the ancient city in complete solitude. He didn’t even have the company of his fellow Paladins. There was nothing but the chilling silence of a cold, empty ghost town.

¶I.

The city of Necropolis was obviously a once proud and majestic one, yet now decomposed by centuries of neglect. The streets were filled with rubble, filth, and decay. This, however, was the least of Lodin’s concerns. Reputedly, the city’s name was changed to “Necropolis” when travelers returned with stories of undead creatures, ghosts, ghouls, and demons roaming its streets in the depths of nightfall. Even the most valiant of Paladins feared the city and would avoid it at all costs, save for necessity itself; hence the difficulty his brigade had in locating the forsaken metropolis. Lodin could do nothing more on his journey to Necropolis than wonder why anyone -- even Dark Paladins -- would want to set base in a city of such vile repute. Lodin’s only guess could be that the Order of Mortiferean Knights was more concerned with their desired secrecy than their own well-being. So truly disturbing was the air here that Lodin swore he could hear the wretched, taunting laughter of wicked beings echoing through his mind.

¶I.

It wasn’t long, however, before Lodin realized that he wasn’t hearing some distant demonic laughter -- it was breathing. The breathing wasn’t quiet either; it was the sort of deep, bellowing breaths breathed by unfathomably monstrous beings told of only in the campfire tales of brave old warriors. With sword drawn, Lodin closed his eyes so that he might ken the direction of the beast’s exhales. It was coming from one of the buildings, slightly ahead and to the left. As a Paladin, it was Lodin’s mission to find the creature and slay it with a holy vengeance. Such a being could not be allowed to wander freely and consume either the living bodies or carcasses of innocent men and women. The breathing faded.

¶I.

‘Calm down’ Lodin said to himself silently, ‘it’s probably just a dire rat,’ he concluded.

¶I.

Lodin eventually reached the building, though his heart had beaten as slowly and steadily as each careful footstep along the way. He could feel the hairs of his arms attempting to stand on end beneath his heavy scale mail. His body felt weak, numb, and utterly vulnerable. His heart was pounding hard and slow in his chest, as he choked back the bile creeping up from his knotted stomach. In the depths of his mind he knew that no mere rat could make such noises, even if it were the size of a bear. What sort of creature could he be stalking? He would have his answer in the brevity of the next few moments. The door creaked slightly as he pulled it open, causing Lodin’s heart to race. His instincts were to jump when the centuries of dust that had settled began to rain upon his head. It wasn’t like a Paladin to be so affrayed, though circumstances certainly dictated caution.

¶I.

‘It must be some sort of gargantuan demon...’ the young knight feared.

¶I.

He was wrong.

¶I.

As Lodin peered into the room, he could see a petite young girl sleeping next to a dying lantern -- her bundle of provisions acting as a pillow. She appeared rather cold, although any maiden who’d willingly wander into the interior of Necropolis could probably handle the frigid nights here.

¶I.

Just then, the door sprang from its hinges and crashed coarsely against the ground, scraping and banging, as its weight settled itself inside the room. The girl was awakened with a start as Lodin moved swiftly to conceal himself behind the wall. Lodin watched through the clouded window as the girl sat up and slowly clambered to her feet.

¶I.

She was a breathtakingly beautiful creature. The Paladin had been taught never to objectify someone based on the aesthetic prowess of her physique, but in this instance he could not prevent himself from doing so. He simply couldn’t help but stare.

¶I.

This fair young vixen had the sort of devastating beauty that most men could never even conceive of -- the absolute pinnacle of femininity personified. No more than five and a quarter feet in height with an astonishingly tith frame, and an unfittingly curvaceous figure. Her face was rounded with soft, delicate features, her skin looked as smooth as satin, her complexion was without flaw, her chin was modest and her nose was small and buttonish. Her eyes were almost shockingly large and breathtakingly vibrant; shades of sparkling blue seemed to burn with the intensity of the hottest of flames, yet were so chillingly cool that to gaze upon them was as calming as looking into a clear, icy pool. Her thick, dark eyelashes formed an outline around her brilliant rime-blue eyes, making them even more stunning by contrast. Her lips appeared full and pouting, and yet as tender and soft as the finest silk. Her elegant, hip-length, dark auburn hair flowed mistfully down over her ears as a golden blonde lock trailed down each side of her face, and the graceful brown mane provided a perfect backdrop for her thin, swanlike neck. The young woman’s torso was exceptionally lean and slender, and equipped with a chest so implausibly replete and buoyant it looked as though she were cloaking a pair of enormous, splendidly rotund musk melons within her bodice. Her waist was extraordinarily tapered and trim, almost inhumanly so, and her sleek, slightly concave stomach looked surprisingly solid and firm. Contrast against her tiny waist and stomach were her strapping hips and buttocks, beautifully robust and impeccably sculpted as if by some legendary artist; her hips sloping faultlessly into her strong, perfectly-rounded and generously proportioned hindquarters. Then of course there were her exquisite legs; exceedingly long, diminutively slender, yet at the same time quite muscular and shapely.

¶I.

The young woman’s dress was scant, to say the least. Her upper body sported a thin, unpadded linen bust-bodice with a shoulderless scooping neckline, lace-up front, and long bell sleeves. However, the bodice was obviously made for a woman of far less sonsie proportions, which apparently prevented the girl from pulling the bodice together as far as it was designed. Resultantly, remarkable expanses of her round, gravity-defying bust was exposed as the fraying laces which spanned the bodice’s gaping aperture strained so hard to hold together they threatened to give way at any moment. The sheer immensity of the girl’s chest and the consequential manner in which the bodice was forced to fit left her taut midriff completely bare as well. Covering her long, sensuous legs were exceptionally low-risen, black leather, belled-bottom trousers. The pants rode so low that her round, voluptuous haunches were left mostly uncovered, as were several inches of skin below her naval; in fact, the trousers covered very little aside from her legs. Unbeknownst to Lodin, however, the girl had a most practical reason for her attire.

¶I.

“Who’s out there?” she demanded, a frightened quiver in her voice; yet even so, the sound was as heavenly as the songs of a thousand sirens.

¶I.

She watched Lodin reveal himself, moving into the doorway and removing the hood of his coif from his nigrous hair. Although the lighting was dim, she could see that the mysterious figure she’d feared just moments ago was quite an attractive man.

¶I.

She had no idea who this person was, though she couldn’t help but feel an intense attraction for him.

¶I.

“My name’s Lodin of the Knights of Aradia, and of the Kingdom of Béowyn,” the Paladin stated with his head held high in a confident stance.

¶I.

“Is that what I shall call you then, Lodin of the Knights of Aradia, and of the Kingdom of Béowyn?” the girl inquired in a semi-mocking tone, though secretly she couldn’t help but think how familiar the name seemed to her, as though she recognized if from somewhere.

¶I.

Suddenly, Lodin’s self-possessed bravado crumbled and he withdrew, crossing his arms at once and then awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

¶I.

“Well, no, I mean...” he stammered for a moment, “of course you can call me Lodin.”

¶I.

“Pleased to meet you, Lodin” the girl responded, picking up her provisions bag and taking a few steps toward the Paladin as her sharply curved hips swayed hypnotically, each step swinging her pelvis from side to side almost as if independently from the rest of her body, like a beautifully formed womanly pendulum.

¶I.

“Huh? Wait, I mean...” Lodin began, nearly choking on his own pounding heart, “what’s your name?”

¶I.

“My name’s Abigail, though I much prefer to be addressed as ‘Gail’,” the beautiful young woman answered, her large, vibrant eyes peering deeply into Lodin’s.

¶I.

Gail’s seductive gait was broken for a moment as she nearly tripped over the fallen door, causing her to drop her backpack. She couldn’t help but laugh at herself, and of course Lodin couldn’t help but laugh at her either. Suddenly the atmosphere was a great deal more comfortable, and the two frightened youngsters fell into tension-breaking hysterics.

¶I.

Gail managed to regain her composure long enough to take a step back from the handsome Paladin and comment, “I don’t know how you found me here, Paladin, but thank you.”

¶I.

“I think you and I should get out of here,” Lodin suggested, extending his hand to the maiden.

¶I.

“Give me a moment,” Gail responded, as she picked up her pack and went back to the dying lantern.

¶I.

Bending over to access the lamp, Gail unbuckled her backpack and pulled out a canister of oil, which she promptly administered into the modest lightning device. The object’s glow grew brighter until it was illuminating the entire room in soft, warm light.

¶I.

Gail threw her pack on, sliding her thin, perfectly shaped arms through each strap as she picked up the lantern and proceeded back to Lodin. She took the novice knight’s hand and the two walked out the doorway together -- careful not to trip over the door itself, of course.

¶I.

“So, what possessed you to come to Necropolis?” Lodin asked.

¶I.

“I was searching for one of my sisters.”

¶I.

Lodin examined Gail’s face more closely. There was something very familiar about her soft, innocent features -- her exaggeratedly large blue eyes, her full, beautiful lips, her long eyelashes, her dainty chin, and her button nose.

¶I.

“What’s your surname?” Lodin asked.

¶I.

“Rowan. My whole name is Abigail Renee Rowan.”

¶I.

Suddenly it struck Lodin why she looked so familiar.

¶I.

“Are you related to Kyra and Jadia Rowan?”

¶I.

“Yes,” Gail answered with a curious expression on her face. “Jadia and Kyra are my sisters -- how could you know that?”

¶I.

“I thought you looked familiar! I knew them when I was younger. So, which sister were you looking for?”

¶I.

“Well, I was actually searching for Jadia. I decided to seek her out when I discovered a lead on Kyra’s whereabouts. Last time we spoke was in the summer whilst we were robbing the Harcroft Estate; she’d been planning to make a trip to Necropolis around this time.”

¶I.

“Well,” Lodin began, “I’d be happy to help you search for her, I haven’t seen her in over a year. Though I should tell you that my mission here must take top priority. It’s imperative that I complete my task.”

¶I.

“And what task would that be, brave knight?” Gail asked in her most facetious tone.

¶I.

“I’ll tell you, once we get moving,” he responded with a smile, noticing that they’d just been standing outside of the building the entire time.

¶I.

With the exchange of a silent, respectful nod to one another, Lodin and Gail began walking in the direction that they would’ve guessed lead to the center of town.

¶I.

Neither the thief nor the Paladin could’ve previously imagined the incomprehensible emptiness of Necropolis. The streets were completely without life. The stars and moon set in the black sky ceased to prevail against the shadows of the abandoned city. There were no sounds; no crickets, no wolves howling, nothing but an eerie silence under-shadowed by the imagined moans, screams, and laughter of restless spirits. Never had these two encountered such an imposing darkness; just the idea of such an invasive void would’ve been regarded as logically contradictory in scholarly circles, but not here. This was the sort of darkness that veiled a world of infinite terrors; the sort of darkness that children see under their beds. The darkness itself seemed to breathe, seemed to move, seemed to think.

¶I.

“So?” Gail prompted, awaiting Lodin’s answer.

¶I.

“My Paladin camp in Béowyn heard rumors that the Order of Mortiferean Knights had set up some barracks in the Valley of Necropia. Normally we would’ve left them alone until they became a threat, but we were informed by a defector that the Unseelie Court had requisitioned the Mortiferean Knights to come here to find the ancient grimoire that supposedly holds the secret to bringing about the return of Mortifer. We were sent here on a reconnaissance mission. Unfortunately, the Mortiferean Knights were ready for us, and I was the only survivor of the ambush. Now it’s up to me to find the Temple of Mortifer and see if I can’t retrieve the Grimoire of Chthonicus and take it to Hathor to keep the Unseelie Court from getting their hands on it,” Lodin explained, realizing how ridiculous it all sounded.

¶I.

“That ... that is the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!” Gail exclaimed, an expression of wide-eyed laughter blanketing her pretty young face.

¶I.

“I swear it’s true! You know that a Paladin can’t lie.”

¶I.

“Whatever...” Gail agreed reluctantly, “are you cold?” She didn’t think he would be. Not only did he appear comfortable, he actually looked as though he were a little warm. Gail, on the other hand, obviously wasn’t dressed for comfort -- but as a thief, her style of dress allowed for the dexterity and agility she needed.

¶I.

“No, are you?” Lodin answered.

¶I.

Gail’s head bowed as she blushed slightly.

¶I.

“Oh, I see,” Lodin said nervously, having let his eyes drift downward to Gail’s chest.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail kept walking until they reached a forested area of town. It was difficult to believe that anything -- even a tree -- could survive in this foul and barren city. The wind howled between the limbs as the branches danced about. The shadows cast by the Gail’s lantern seemed to come alive as they moved through the trees in almost sentient motions.

¶I.

By now, tiny goose bumps were forming on Gail’s arms and she was unconsciously shaking a bit. Though she tried to pass it off as merely being cold, the truth was that she was also feeling very frightened -- a feeling that most thieves are unaccustomed to. After all, it takes a certain degree of fearlessness to succeed in the plundering business. There was just something about this cold, empty city that wouldn’t let her breathe. Thankfully, though, Lodin was there. Gail had been taught from a young age to trust the Priests, Priestesses, and Paladins of Aradia. Her stepmother, an Aradian Priestess, and her father, a Darkelf defector, had both instilled in her the virtues that worshippers of Aradia were obligated to follow. This, and the fact that it’d been quite some time since she’d last seen a person’s face, was her primary motivation for trusting Lodin almost instantly the way she did. Even so, Gail wasn’t sure this young Aradian knight would be able to defend her if something truly evil crossed their path.

¶I.

As Lodin looked at Gail as she walked beside him, he couldn’t help but notice how much she and Jadia looked alike. Jadia had thick, wavy red hair, a freckled complexion, no points on her ears, and green eyes rather than blue -- but the two sisters were unerringly indistinguishable in every other imaginable way. Each curve and contour of their bodies were wholly identical -- from the curvature of their jaws and the shape of their eyes and lips, to the daintiness of their arms, hands, and feet, to their incredible bust measurements, there were simply no detectable dissimilarities between them. The two girls were so completely and invariably the same that it was as if they were two perfectly identical mannequins, one painted with a solid complexion and the other with freckles, one whose eyes were painted blue and the other whose eyes had been painted green, each given a different style and color of hair, and one to whom pointed ears were added.

¶I.

Of course, by now Lodin was finding himself very attracted to the unusually sonsy girl, just as he had been to her sister once before. Sufficive to say, any fully functional man in the whole of Gaia would’ve unquestionably found himself feeling the same way. But for the eternally moral and faithful Paladin, there was no excuse. Feelings of guilt were beginning to overwhelm him. Just as Lodin knew that any man in the world would be attracted to Gail, he was also sure that any man in the world would count himself lucky to have an intelligent, beautiful, caring woman such as Alyssandra waiting for him at home.

¶I.

‘How did I keep myself from lusting after Jadia in those days?’ Lodin thought.

¶I.

When Lodin and Alyssandra had first been betrothed to one another, it was difficult for Lodin to hide his obvious attraction to Jadia. Alyssandra had an astonishingly gorgeous face and a curvy, athletic, voluptuous body. Regardless, not even the alluring Alyssandra Elizabeth Foxley could’ve been fairly compared to a woman of Jadia or Gail’s proportions any more than she could’ve been fairly compared to a Dryad. Lodin often found himself remarking to Alyssandra that Jadia’s immense breasts and petite body were actually highly amusing rather than arousing -- and although Lodin tried with all he could muster to see Jadia that way, he was bound to fail. In the end, it was the love for him that Lodin saw in Alyssandra’s eyes, the feelings he felt when they embraced, and the overwhelming respect and commitment he had for his beloved Alyssandra that kept Jadia from being able to turn Lodin’s head. The question was: without Alyssandra’s touch, the sound of her voice, nor the mere ability to look upon her face -- without these things, could Lodin still remain faithful? The temptation may have been strong, but Lodin was a good, upstanding man who could never allow himself -- nay, he could never lower himself to going behind the back of his one true love.

¶I.

Gail, on the other hand, didn’t have any of Lodin’s reservations. She didn’t have a husband, fiancé, or even a male companion to return home to. Gail didn’t even have a home at all. She was a drifter, a rogue with no material ties to any place or emotional ties to any person. It’d been years since a man had embraced her, and she had yet to ever experience the physical act of love. But now there was Lodin, a literal knight in shining armor who’d come to rescue her -- and since he’d mentioned nothing of Alyssandra thus far, Gail was left to assume that Lodin was available. The sexy, auburn-haired thief couldn’t help but be attracted to him; he was tall, muscular, and ruggedly handsome with beautiful green eyes and long, flowing black hair. Not only was he one of the most striking men she’d ever laid eyes upon, but he was a Paladin as well. Perhaps it was the loneliness getting to her, but she was beginning to think Lodin was the man she’d waited her entire life for.

¶I.

It was probably just the loneliness speaking. Gail didn’t really care at this point, though -- all she knew was that she was feeling a fiery attraction to Lodin, to phrase it mildly, and planned to pursue him once they were safely out of Necropolis City.

¶I.

“So, Lodin, how is it you know my sisters?”

¶I.

“It’s a long story,” Lodin began, “I don’t really know Kyra. I hadn’t seen either of them since I was about ten years old, until I met up with Jadia again a little over three years ago.”

¶I.

“Aren’t you wondering why you’ve never heard Jadia mention me?”

¶I.

“She probably has mentioned you once or twice and I just didn’t notice,” Lodin concluded.

¶I.

“Actually, Lodin, Jadia and I just met for the first time less than a year ago.”

¶I.

“Quiet!” Lodin whispered, signaling Gail to stop by brushing her arm with his hand.

¶I.

Once again, Lodin was alerted to the sound of deep, rumbling inhalations. They were more sonorous now than the first time the ghastly drones defiled his ears, audibly wheezing and panting as if more pronounced, nearer than before. The resonant yet ailing reverberations were far too monstrous, phlegmy, and disturbing to have originated from any animal, even man. Only the most lurid of monsters could produce sounds like these; certainly nothing of a natural sort was capable of such vile bellows as those being heard now. Lodin lamented that he ever could’ve presumed these sounds to have derived from an entity as enchanting as Gail.

¶I.

“What’s that?” asked Gail, holding up her lantern in an attempt to ascertain the monster’s position.

¶I.

“I have no idea,” replied Lodin, readying his sword.

¶I.

The breathing stopped, and Lodin and Gail continued their excursion through the dark warrens of Necropolis’s timbered piazza. It wasn’t long before the trees became interspersed with gravestones, and as the trees grew thinner, the gravestones seemed to multiply.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail found themselves at the perimeter of a vast paddock illuminated by moonlight, teeming with headstones that blanketed the countryside. It was the most inexhaustibly copious cemetery either of them had ever seen, expanding almost perpetually as it diminished into the towering crags beyond. The graveyard itself was completely dissolute, littered with rotting trees and memorial statues in thorough disrepair reaching writhely above the sea of fog swathing the cemetery floor. Scattered among the broken, crumbling tombstones were ancient and ruined mausoleums, some as great as four stories in height. It was unquestionably the most harrowing sight either Lodin or Gail had ever beheld.

¶I.

Shortly ahead, a willowy yet surpassingly full-bosomed woman with flaming red hair seemed to manifest from within the heavy fog. The figure was remarkably familiar, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Gail, aside from her crimson hair and freckled face. She stared coldly at both Gail and Lodin, remaining eerily motionless as her eyes shifted between them.

¶I.

“Jadia!” Gail shouted, “It’s me! Your sister! Abby!”

¶I.

“Abby?” Lodin asked, raising his brow in a quizzical furrow.

¶I.

“That’s just what Jadia calls me. If you ever even think about calling me that I’ll --”

¶I.

Suddenly, Jadia bolted toward the innermost plots, leaping over the graveyard’s surrounding iron-bar grille. The nimble young redhead moved swiftly through the tombstone jungle, sprinting no less than one hundred yards in a mere moment, before vanishing once more into the mist near one of the large mausoleums directly ahead. Lodin carefully sheathed his longsword as he and Gail gave chase.

¶I.

“I never knew she could move so quickly!” Lodin gasped, stopping to catch his breath.

¶I.

“Why would she run?” asked Gail, catching up to the winded Paladin.

¶I.

As Lodin continued to pant with his head between his knees, Gail dangled her lantern above the milky haze in an attempt to gather her bearings through the cemetery’s enveloping miasma. Lodin and Gail were still breathing rather heavily, though not from fatigue alone. The fog here seemed murky and fecal, reeking with the putrid stench of death. The rancid, nauseating odor began to suffocate the two youngsters with the rank tang of stale flesh.

¶I.

“What have we done...” breathed a distressed, wide-eyed Lodin.

¶I.

“What…what’s wr...wrong?” Gail choked out, petrified by Lodin’s panicked expression.

¶I.

Lodin gestured straight ahead, and as Gail squinted to see what he was so frightened of, she began to make out a shape. At first it looked somewhat like the back of a wrinkled old man hunched over a grave, but as the mist began to clear slightly, she could see the grave had been exhumed and that the ‘old man’ wasn’t a man at all. Its skin was a translucent flesh tone made gray by the fat blue veins beneath, glistening with a coat of clear slime. The creature was so bony that it was nearly skeletal in appearance; spindly as an emaciated, disheveled cadaver, but with ganglier limbs and a stout, sagging torso. The creature was hideously out of proportion; it would’ve only been five feet in height standing straight up yet each arm must’ve been six and a half feet long. Although its backside was facing Lodin and Gail, they could see that the creature was slumping in order to feed -- it grunted and slurped noisily as it devoured its meal. But what was it eating?

¶I.

“Ghoul,” said Lodin, unsheathing his longsword, “we should’ve known better than to wander into a cemetery of this size, especially one that has been abandoned for so long. This place must be swarming with Ghouls.”

¶I.

The creature turned around sharply, raising the proportionately large, bat-like ears on either side of its slimy, hairless head. The creature’s face was even more hideous than its disgusting body. Its teeth were like long, crooked daggers -- some broken, some rotting, some growing straight through the creature’s cheeks. It had no discernable eyes, and an enormous pair of nostrils, each surrounded by a lobe somewhat resembling the ear of a hare -- so large it was as if the monster had an extra set of ears on the front of its face. The Ghoul sniffed the air slightly, and turned the rest of its body to face Lodin and Gail, however it then seemed to ignore them as it gnawed vigorously on a femur.

¶I.

The way the creature fed was even more grotesque. It would bite off a chunk of bone at a time, suck out the rotting marrow, chew up the shell, and then bite off another piece. Sometimes, however, it would slide its slender, tentacle-like tongue into the hollow bone after sucking out the marrow, and slurp out several fat maggots, gobbling them up with even greater enthusiasm. Each time the creature finished a bone or a body part, it would simply reach its long, spidery arm into the grave and pull something else out.

¶I.

“I think I’m going to vomit!” whispered Gail.

¶I.

The Ghoul ceased its scavenging for a moment and raised its ears again. This time, it dashed toward Gail with alarming celerity, running on all fours. Gail was far too frightened to move. It stopped itself just a yard or so away from her and stood erect, with its portly little body balancing clumsily atop its gaunt legs and its long cadaverous arms tucked to its side. The Ghoul flung its arms forward, shoving Gail hard against the ground. Lodin attempted to hack at the creature with his blade, when it whipped its arm out to the side, striking Lodin violently enough to hurl him against a headstone, temporarily immobilizing the Paladin. The ghoul postured itself onto all fours; its legs bowed out to the sides as its stocky little body was suspended mainly by its long forelimbs like an ape, with its elbows sticking up behind it not unlike the wings of a bat. The creature positioned itself over Gail and pinned her down before she had a chance to scramble away, and began twitching its nostril-lobes like antennae as it sniffed at her helpless body. As the ghoul continued to scan the teenager’s figure, it inevitably made its way to her face, where its nostril-lobes came forward into a v-shape, feeling out the shape of her visage as it soaked up every available scent. After a few moments of this, the ghoul simply scampered off.

¶I.

“It must only be interested in corpses,” Gail said with a sigh of relief, looking over at Lodin as he clambered to his feet.

¶I.

“Usually in cemeteries like these, there isn’t enough meat left on the bodies to satisfy the ghouls,” Lodin explained, sorely making his way to Gail, “so they resort to trying to bring down living prey whenever it wanders in.”

¶I.

“Well there’s obviously something very strange about this particular cemetery,” Gail commented, grasping Lodin’s now outstretched hand and pulling herself to her feet, “the ‘meat’ that Ghoul was eating seemed a bit too fresh for a cemetery that’s as old as this one. Either the cemetery is still in use, or there’s something keeping these bodies fresh.”

¶I.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Lodin confessed. “We should be careful, there may be undead creatures lurking in the cemetery as well.”

¶I.

Lodin and Gail continued to move toward the mausoleum, a bit more carefully so as not to catch any more ghouls off-guard.

¶I.

Unexpectedly, the soil over one of the nearby graves began to billow as a hand reached up from beneath the loam. Gail shrieked briefly when she beheld the festering appendage extending from the headstone’s shadow, as more of the limb unearthed itself. Soon, a head became visible -- then its other shoulder, then part of its thorax, then the other arm. It was obvious at this point that the monstrosity now unearthing itself from the grave was a living human corpse -- a zombie.

¶I.

Lodin ran back to retrieve the sword he’d dropped when the ghoul shoved him, leaving Gail behind for a moment.

¶I.

“Don’t leave me! What the hell are you doing?” screamed Gail.

¶I.

The now almost wholly resurrected undead man stumbled feebly as he struggled to pull his leg from the ground. Gail trembled slightly at the sight of it; a horribly decomposed human carcass, covered in rotting skin and muscle, worms and maggots gorging themselves on the rancid flesh as the zombie staggered toward the teenager.

¶I.

Gail had seen a few apparitions since she arrived in Necropolis; a ghost here, a specter there. She’d seen some frightening things, things that most people lived their entire lives only hearing anecdotes about. But now, she was facing something more than just some incorporeal spirit floating about an abandoned inn -- she was facing a very tangible undead creature. Her heart seemed as though it were trying to climb out through her throat as her palms became sweaty. The ghoul had paralyzed her in fear before, yet that seemed more like a disgusting animal than anything else -- this was a reanimated cadaver, a soulless abomination of a man’s body incarnated with darkness.

¶I.

“Brains!” the zombie cried, tottering toward Gail at a slightly faster pace now, endeavoring to run as its frail body threatened to collapse with each step. “Braaaaiiinnnns!!”

¶I.

All of a sudden, the zombie’s head was severed from its body. Lodin had returned with his longsword, as well as Gail’s lantern. Gail let out an exultant sigh of relief when the decaying carcass fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing without any evidence of conscious thought as its head rolled past along the ground.

¶I.

“I’ve ... I’ve never seen one of those before,” gasped Gail, her lavishly prodigious breasts heaving fiercely upon her comparatively tiny, petite upper body as she labored to catch her breath.

¶I.

“I have,” said Lodin.

¶I.

No sooner did Lodin utter those words than the sounds of rumbling, roaring breaths returned. This time, the breathing was louder than ever, and mounting steadily upon their ears. As Lodin and Gail listened intently to the emergent respirations, individual patterns began to evolve. The sound grew ever louder, until it soon seemed as though it would consume them entirely. The rhythms of the breathing became clearer with each passing moment, until voices began to surface from within the echoing chaos. Unable to move, Lodin and Gail awaited their immanent ingestion by the torrential furor racing toward them. As the tumult drew nearer, Lodin and Gail were able to make out a single, distinct word being chanted fervently over and over again in a round.

¶I.

“Oh Gods ... no....” Gail panted.

¶I.

Lodin tightened his grip on his longsword, as he handed the lantern back to Gail. The sounds grew closer until finally an army of undead corpses poured into the clearing from behind their foggy veil. The zombies spit and gnashed their teeth, tripping over one another as the brain-starved creatures flooded the area. Crackling, crunching as their bones collapsed under their own weight, the creatures were slowing down as they closed in on the helpless youngsters.

¶I.

“Run!” Lodin commanded, grabbing Gail’s free hand, he then towed her behind him as he took off in the opposite direction, back toward the cemetery’s entrance.

¶I.

They didn’t make it very far before they found themselves face-to-face with a clan of very hungry-looking ghouls racing toward them at breakneck speed. The ravenous scavengers slobbered and growled like rabid wolves; each running on all fours and yet flocking together so fluidly they appeared almost as one great mass of predators.

¶I.

Gail tugged at Lodin’s arm as she attempted to halt herself, pulling Lodin to a dead stop along with her. Looking behind her to see the zombies rapidly closing in on them, Gail let out a blood-curdling scream in anticipation of the slaughter that would soon be upon them.

¶I.

“Get down!” Lodin bellowed, hunkering to the cemetery floor as low as he could, pulling Gail to the ground with him.

¶I.

Gail braced herself for the attack, but was surprised when the Ghouls began attacking the zombies. The ghouls were soon ripping the limbs from the trunks of their undead foes, tearing the flesh from their bones and devouring them ‘alive’, so to speak.

¶I.

The zombies naturally fought back against their carrion-consuming assailants, grabbing hold of the ghouls and biting into their skulls. The ghouls screeched in agony as the zombies grappled with them, yet the zombies made no sound at all when torn limb from limb by the ghouls. The ghouls seemed to have figured out very quickly that decapitated zombie bodies lacked the conscious ability to fight back, and instead only twitched mindlessly. The zombie heads, although remaining conscious once disembodied, lacked the equipment with which to return any sort of assault. The ghouls used this to their advantage, ripping the heads from the zombies in order to freely devour the dismembered, animated cadavers. Zombie heads were rolling past Lodin and Gail as they watched the battle from within. The cemetery had turned into a war zone.

¶I.

The ghouls hadn’t a clear advantage however, as being living creatures made them susceptible to the zombies’ preferred form of attack; it seemed a single bite to the skull, penetrating into the succulent gray organ concealed within, was enough to kill each ghoul more or less instantly.

¶I.

Some of the ghouls had found yet another rather efficient method of immobilizing their assailants. Though their arms were spindly and weak, their sheer length allowed them alarmingly superior leverage, which they used to grab any zombie they could and spin them around, flinging them up into the air far enough that the corpses shattered once they hit the ground.

¶I.

Once Lodin and Gail found an opening in the mayhem, they darted toward the mausoleum. Maneuvering through the battleground as if it were an obstacle course, they weaved in and out of headstones while dodging injured and fighting monsters.

¶I.

The screams and moans of the creatures gradually became quieter as the two began putting distance between themselves and the hideous monsters masticating each other behind them. Within a few moments, they’d managed to escape the combat totally.

¶I.

“Look, Lodin, there she is!” Gail shouted, running toward the mausoleum even more quickly now as the Paladin followed closely behind.

¶I.

Jadia was standing just outside the three-story-tall crypt, as if awaiting Lodin and Gail’s arrival. Her eyes cold and lifeless, she remained as static as a mannequin frozen in ice.

¶I.

Before they could even reach her, Jadia opened one of the large mausoleum doors, stepped inside, and slammed it shut behind her.

¶I.

Gail stopped just outside as Lodin caught up to her, and the two simply stared up at the awe-inspiring structure. It was a humbling sight, with ornate marble columns on either side of the massive bronze doorway, stone gargoyles perched menacingly upon the eaves, and a large stain-glass window encompassing the front of the second and third stories. The building was an intolerably daunting bastion, whose face seemed to arc forebodingly over Lodin and Gail as it towered above them, as if waiting to crush them under its mass.

¶I.

Gail’s jaw went slack as she continued look upon the mausoleum’s perilously grim ambience.

¶I.

Lodin stood there, motionless, as he gazed up at the sheer imperviousness of the baneful fortress before them. “What do you suppose we do now?”

Chapter 2
“The Hostelry”

13th Month, 19th Night, VII 4632

¶I.

The room was deafeningly congested, replete with dozens of permeating, boisterous voices each trying desperately to surmount the next. The Talenburg Inn was full to capacity tonight, and the abhorrently inebriated horde showed no sign of a proximal departure. Strangely, though, no one seemed to be affronted or irate, and the atmosphere was that of merriment and camaraderie. Most of the patrons seemed to be human, though there were also a few Common Elves, Duegar, Hobbits, Gnomes, half-Elves, and even an Ogre or two. It was strange to see the different races relating to one another so effortlessly and without reservation -- especially within the Neutral Zone between the kingdoms of Béowyn and Faelore, where tensions always ran high. There was obviously something very different about this evening, something with the significance to bond the races, if only in fleeting.

¶I.

The pub itself was ornately decorated, with floors of finely polished brick tiles, walls made of ash planks and joined with pitch, and intricately carved chair and table sets made from cherry wood. The eaves and pillars within the bar were quite large, and seemed to be constructed of stained oak. Above each table hovered a small brass chandelier, hanging from each extremity of which were ornamental lanterns with red-stained glass walls that saturated the room with warm, cranberry light.

¶I.

Rylen Llyraeus, Llaralynn Harnram, Lily Tifwing, and William Huxley sat at a corner booth, conversing quietly amongst themselves as if independent from the vulgar yet joyous commotion of the tavern.

¶I.

“So, things sure aren’t the same here at ‘Ye Olde Pub’, are they?” Llaralynn asked, somewhat rhetorically -- a textbook illustration of her innate sense of candor.

¶I.

Llaralynn awaited a reaction as she smirked slightly from behind her glass, her enormous viridian eyes dancing back and forth between Rylen, William, and Tif. She had been drinking Elven ale that night, a beverage known to be roughly as intoxicating as Human ale but with a far sweeter taste.

¶I.

Llaralynn set her mug down on the table and ran her fingers through her jet-black, nearly shoulder-length hair as her olive skin grew red with inebriation. Her attire was casual; a white, slightly tattered, button-less, short-sleeved tunic, a knee-length buckskin vest, and brown leather trousers.

¶I.

“Well it’s probably more the same here than it is at ‘Ye New Pub’,” Rylen joked; as usual, no one seemed to find him witty.

¶I.

Rylen smiled meekly once he noticed no one was laughing, having embarrassed himself with his ineffectual attempt at humor. The charmingly inelegant half-Elf was drinking his usual mug of ale, and of course wearing his characteristic mustache of foam for the greater portion of the evening.

¶I.

If not for his glaring awkwardness, Rylen wouldn’t have been the type to stick out in a crowd. He looked to be a typical half-Elf in every respect, with the attractive but not incredibly masculine face of a Common Elf, as well as the platinum blonde hair and sky-blue eyes characteristic of the Tel’quessir; although, were it not for the points of his ears, he could’ve passed for a somewhat petite Human. His style of dress complimented this superbly inconspicuous appearance, as tonight he was clad in an off-white linen tunic and brownish, wool trousers with his feet bound in strips of leather.

¶I.

William, the half-Ogre, remained silent as he gulped down his oversized mug of ale; it was his seventh that evening. His eight-foot tall, four hundred pound body was all but immune to the beverage.

¶I.

William Huxley was an unusually handsome half-Ogre, with the overall appearance of a very tall, extremely muscular Human. He kept his figure burly yet trim, with little excess fat. Part of the colossal man’s allure was his infectious smile and soulful brown eyes. Always well groomed, William tended to get quite a bit of positive attention from Human women despite the fact that he dressed mostly in bear pelts. Tonight he wore his usual brown bearskins sewn into a tunic, tied with a leather belt at the waist and completed by a pair of bearskin boots covering his feet.

¶I.

“I think Riley’s had too much ale tonight,” said Tif, sticking out her tongue playfully at the half-Elf, her wings fluttering slightly. The petite Pixie was comfortably perched cross-legged in the center of the table, dressed somewhat scantily in miniature, dyed-green linen garments.

¶I.

William chuckled heartily, nearly spilling his own ale as Rylen’s face expressed the ravages of Tif’s good-humored mockery. Llaralynn smiled brightly at Rylen, trying her damnedest not to laugh. Rylen was obviously feeling a bit uncomfortable, and so Llaralynn quickly threw an arm around him and kissed him on the cheek.

¶I.

“Don’t try so hard, honey. It wasn’t exactly your sense of humor that made me fall in love with you,” Llaralynn offered.

¶I.

“So, what do you suppose everyone is so excited about?” William broke in, setting his mug down, as his face grew vaguely serious.

¶I.

“Someone finally killed the Fafnir outside of town,” a foreign voice interjected.

¶I.

It was then that an unrealistically curvaceous redhead approached the table wearing tight, low-rise, tan colored linen trousers, knee-high, black leather, lace-up boots, a white, backless bust-bodice with shoulder straps and a lace-up front that was obviously tailored specifically for her miniature torso and mammoth chest, and a mahogany-colored leather corset completing the ensemble. Her long, sensuous legs seemed to glide in a confident gait as her peculiarly hefty bosoms tremored powerfully behind their linen captivity with each prideful step. Llaralynn, Rylen, Tif, and William knew at first glance who it was.

¶I.

Each time she passed within a few feet of a man, his jaw would become slack and his eyes would widen with desire. The women she passed were visibly desirous, and those who kept themselves from outwardly expressing their envy were putting on blatant pretenses of disgust. The brazen, fiery-haired, outrageously proportioned young women smiled graciously at each yearning man, absorbing the looks of unreserved awe, intermittently flashing a conceited smirk at each resentful, envious woman. It would’ve been obvious to any bystander that she was fully accustomed to this sort of behavior, and cherished every moment of it.

¶I.

“Jadia!” Tif shouted, levitating off the tabletop and buzzing over to meet the woman, planting one foot firmly on each of Jadia’s cumbersome breasts, staring gleefully into Jadia’s huge, lively, emerald green eyes.

¶I.

Llaralynn tittered at the droll display, as Rylen and William stared at the spectacle of Tif standing atop Jadia’s outstandingly ample bust, both thoroughly amused yet strangely enticed. Even with Tif’s added weight, Jadia’s chest was jutting forward obtrusively, uninhibited by gravity and seemingly weightless -- as if being elevated by some magick force. Llaralynn found the men’s reaction to the display entertaining, but was otherwise unaffected by the sight.

¶I.

“Gods Jadia!” Tif exclaimed. “If I put my feet together I’d plummet into your cleavage and never find my way out!”

¶I.

“Um ... would you mind not standing there?” asked Jadia.

¶I.

Tif flittered back to the table as Llaralynn repositioned herself nearer to Rylen, thumping the bench with her hand, offering Jadia a seat. Jadia cheerfully accepted Llaralynn’s offer and gracefully took her seat, laying her arms straight down at her sides as her chest rested on the table.

¶I.

“It’s been a long time, Jadia,” Llaralynn remarked, smiling warmly as she put an arm around the absurdly buxom girl.

¶I.

“So, what’s this business about a Fafnir?” William asked.

¶I.

“Haven’t any of you ever heard of the Talenburg Fafnir? It was a huge monster that lived in a cave just outside of town. Supposedly, it guarded a secret treasure. The monster’s carcass was dragged out of the hills a few hours ago -- along with the bodies of the apparent slayer and his hunting party. The Talenburg city council is planning to excavate the cave tomorrow to determine if there really is a treasure. It’s supposed to be huge! In fact, when I heard the council was sending a hunting party into the hills to slay the Fafnir, I postponed my expedition to search the catacombs of Necropolis just so I could come here,” Jadia explained.

¶I.

“Any word on your sisters’ whereabouts?” Llaralynn questioned.

¶I.

Unexpectedly, the double doors at the tavern’s front entrance were opened, and a mysterious figure walked into the room wearing a black, ankle-length velvet robe with bell-sleeves and a draping hood that fully concealed the figure’s face, carrying a tall, knotted staff. Everyone in the room suddenly hushed as four paladins positioned haphazardly about the bar, each dressed in only partial armor, stood and drew their longswords.

¶I.

“We don’t want any devil worship around here!” the burly, aging bartender charged.

¶I.

The robed figure took a few more steps into the room, reached under the garment’s neckline and pulled out a talisman; a silver pentacle. The paladins sheathed their swords and remained at attention, waiting for the robed figure to reveal itself.

¶I.

Pulling the shroud-like hood up from over her face and allowing it to slide down the back of her neck, the figure revealed herself to be a beautiful woman with warm features and golden hair. She smiled sweetly at the bartender and proceeded to scan the room.

¶I.

“I’m so sorry,” the bartender pleaded, “we’ve just had a lot of trouble with warlocks and black mages around here lately. If I had known you were an Aradian priestess...” he began to ramble.

¶I.

“It’s perfectly alright,” the incomprehensibly gorgeous blonde replied, “I know how confusing it can be for cowans, especially since the priests and priestesses of Mortifer dress themselves in much the same manner as we Witches.”

¶I.

The beautiful young priestess then held out her arms, as the four paladins quickly made their way to her and took her staff, then removed the ritual garb from her body, folding it neatly. One of the paladins wandered off with her staff, presumably to the tavern’s weapons locker.

¶I.

Beneath the hooded vestment was a revealing black dress made from two rectangular cuts of fine silk. The two silk squares were pinned together once above each shoulder and then again above each hip by four large, disc-shaped, button-like clasps. The garment was narrow enough that it barely remained fastened by the clasps at her waist; as a result, the dress exhibited great expanses of skin. The dress was also absurdly short, extending down only far enough to cover an inch or so of her long, slender legs. It looked as though the woman had taken two silk handkerchiefs and somehow managed to stretch them enough to pin them together over her torso. Of course, the dress wouldn’t have fit at all if not for her lissome bone structure and minuscule waist, since even now it looked as though it were straining to stay on her voluptuous body; the back of the garment only partially covered her plump, muscular posterior while her bountiful chest threatened to burst through its silk prison in front.

¶I.

In addition, the Witch wore a pair of high-healed sandals with black leather straps ascending clear to her knees in a cross-gartered pattern, and a silver pentacle, which dangled mere fractions of an inch above the cleavage made visible by the dresses’ plunging neckline.

¶I.

The folks in the pub were plainly taking notice of the unabashed priestess. Although the beguiling young blonde’s substantial breasts weren’t anywhere near the ubiquitous magnitude of Jadia’s, nor was her waist quite as tapered (though every bit as taut), her nonetheless mesmerizing figure was receiving comparable attention as she began to move across the room, extravagantly swinging her robust hips from side to side with each pretentious step she took.

¶I.

The Witch continued inspecting the bar, until her eyes finally settled on the corner table, which seated Jadia, Rylen, Llaralynn, William, and Tif. She began walking toward the five friends as her newly acquired paladin sentinels followed closely behind her. As she was walking toward them, a man who’d been sitting near reached out and lifted a corner of her dress, exposing her deliciously copious buttock for all to see.

¶I.

“Show some respect for the clergy!” one of the paladins shouted, seizing the man by the front of his tunic.

¶I.

“Wait! I can handle this myself, thank you,” the priestess commanded, approaching the unrefined man as her paladin guards stepped away.

¶I.

“Have you ever heard of Kha Lo Din?” she asked, bending forward to look the man straight in the eyes. She rested one hand on the table at which he sat, and the other on the arm of his chair.

¶I.

“Of course ... who hasn’t ... everyone knows who the son of Kha Ri Oric is ... Rioric is a living legend ... Lodin was a prodigy…a warrior ... before he was even a paladin...” the uneasy man stammered.

¶I.

“Okay, then listen up,” the magnificent, charming girl said with a smile, “if you don’t have respect for this,” she said, holding her silver pentagram-medallion, “then at least have respect for this,” she continued, pointing to the ruby-studded platinum ring on her finger.

¶I.

“Wha...what’s that?” the man asked.

¶I.

“It’s an engagement ring, the one Kha Lo Din himself gave me. Gee, do you think he’ll be angry when he hears about this?” she asked, her sparkling brown eyes full of sympathy as she coyly bit her lower lip. “I really wouldn’t want to see anything ‘bad’ happen to you,” the Witch said with a bright, toothy smile.

¶I.

The man fell backward out of his chair as the priestess stepped back, scrambled to his feet and made a run for the door as quickly as he could. The golden-haired beauty simply laughed and kept walking confidently toward the corner table.

¶I.

“That was awfully harsh, Alyssandra,” Llaralynn scoffed.

¶I.

“What? Don’t I get a hug?” she replied.

¶I.

Jadia and Llaralynn deployed themselves from their seats behind the table and greeted Alyssandra, amiably embracing her. The three girls released one another, and Llaralynn returned neatly to her place next to Rylen as Jadia motioned for Alyssandra to take her seat.

¶I.

“How’ve you been Alyssandra?” William asked, caringly as ever.

¶I.

“It’s been a long time...” Rylen added with a reverent nod.

¶I.

“What the hell happened to you?” inquired Tif, staring at Alyssandra’s new style of (partial) dress.

¶I.

“What?” said Alyssandra, looking down at her scant apparel. “Oh, I guess I am a little less inhibited than I used to be,” she remarked with a smile as she sat down beside Llaralynn.

¶I.

“So, you finally became a priestess,” Rylen commended.

¶I.

“Naturally. I’m not just a follower of the Aradian faith anymore, I’ve gone through the dedication period, the initiation rite, and now I’m part of the clergy! I’m a full-fledged Witch!”

¶I.

“Aren’t priests and priestesses supposed to be naked under their robes?” William queried.

¶I.

“Well, Witches are supposed to be skyclad during most rituals, though dedicants are allowed to wear these little black satin loincloths if they wish to preserve their modesty. Once he or she becomes a Witch, though, we’re to participate nude on the Esbats and robed on the Sabbats. The robes are also our formal garbs as well as our only permissible municipal clothing. We’re normally not supposed to wear anything beneath them, but the Priesthood makes an exception for social settings,” Alyssandra clarified.

¶I.

Alyssandra stopped for a moment.

¶I.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble on like that,” she said. “Anyway, what were you guys doing?

¶I.

“Jadia was just about to tell us if she’d heard anything on her sisters recently,” Llaralynn informed the young Witch, as everyone looked up at Jadia to await her response.

¶I.

“I haven’t really heard much. There’s the same old rumors that Kyra is in league with blackguards, and of course I haven‘t seen Abby in months,” Jadia explained, her voice timid and irresolute.

¶I.

“Oh, Jadia, I’m so sorry,” Llaralynn submitted compassionately.

¶I.

“Who’s Abby?” asked Alyssandra.

¶I.

“Abigail is Jadia’s other half-sister,” William started; “she’s a half-Darkelf, like Kyra. In fact, they have the same father. Gail was raised in Faelore with their father while Jadia and Kyra were raised by Isaac and Larissa, so Jadia never met Gail until just under a year ago.”

¶I.

Jadia nodded, “Well you’ve all heard the story of how my mother conceived Kyra when she lived in Faelore with Aramyn, and how she was captured and sold in the Béowyn black market by poachers who mistook her for a Nymph before Kyra was born, and ended up handfasting my father, Isaac, when he bought her and freed her....”

¶I.

“About a hundred times,” said William.

¶I.

“So, Kyra and I were raised like blood sisters. But what I found out several months ago, and what you don’t know,” Jadia continued, addressing Alyssandra, “is that when I was only almost two years old, far too long ago for me to have remembered, my mother was sent back to Faelore because of the war, because of how much she looked like a Nymph. Kyra and I stayed with our father, while our mother ended up having a brief affair with Aramyn. Mom gave birth to Abby about a year later. When the war ended and she was able to return home, she left Abigail with Aramyn in Faelore so that Isaac wouldn’t find out that she’d had an affair. So I ended up having a nearly two-years-younger sister that I never met, or even knew about, until almost a year ago.”

¶I.

“So, that would make Abby about sixteen years old now, right?” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“Right,” answered Jadia.

¶I.

“And your father never knew about her? Your mother never told either of you?” the priestess asked.

¶I.

Jadia shook her head, “No, I never would’ve known if I hadn’t run into Abby in Candleton a few months ago.”

¶I.

“How did you know she was your sister then?” asked Alyssandra, as Rylen and William raised their eyebrows.

¶I.

“Well,” said Jadia, “she and I do look exactly alike, I mean, I have my father’s red hair and green eyes, and she has her father’s pointed ears, but otherwise we look exactly like our mother did at our age. Well, not exactly, since Abby doesn’t have any freckles and her hair is fairly dark on account of her dad’s black Darkelf hair, but other than that...” explained Jadia, looking down at her body and gesturing her hands up and down her sides, calling attention to her unusually curvaceous physique, “we’re identical down to every last little curve.”

¶I.

“Speaking of your father, have you heard from Isaac recently?” asked William.

¶I.

“No, still no word,” Jadia frowned.

¶I.

“What? Your father went somewhere? The last time I saw any of you was right after Larissa died a little more than a year ago, what happened?” Alyssandra questioned.

¶I.

“Isaac took off,” Tif stated bluntly.

¶I.

“It was a week or so after my mother died,” said Jadia, “he just disappeared one day, and never came back. Anyway, I’d really rather not talk about this anymore.”

¶I.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to -- ”

¶I.

“It’s okay,” Jadia interrupted, “you couldn’t have known.”

¶I.

Alyssandra grimaced slightly, “so, where’s that fiancé of mine?”

¶I.

“Pardon?” enquired Llaralynn. “Is Lodin supposed to be here?”

¶I.

“Yes, after his mission to Faelore, his squadron was supposed to come here, to Talenburg ... to the Talenburg Inn actually. He should be here already. The paladins were sent into Faelore to locate the city of Necropolis more than six weeks ago.”

¶I.

“Well Necropolis can be a fairly elusive city. Even those who’ve made the trip several times before have difficulty finding it. Perhaps they were lost?” offered Jadia.

¶I.

“They’re probably all dead,” came a voice from the booth behind Rylen and William; Jadia’s head turned sharply in the direction of the voice, Llaralynn and Alyssandra lifted their heads, and Tif flittered into the air for a better view of the booth’s occupants, as Rylen and William turned around to look.

¶I.

Sitting in the adjoining booth were two men dressed in tattered brown mantles. The two men pulled their hoods down simultaneously and turned to greet their associates. One of the men was a somewhat elderly yet distinguished looking Human with long silver hair and a short, well-groomed beard. The other was an Elven man with short, frost-white hair and a matching goatee.

¶I.

Jadia stepped over to the two men with an air of mourn about her face and took a seat beside the illustrious, venerable patriarch as the others minded intently. The silver-haired veteran lowered his head forlornly, clenching his eyes tightly as the staggeringly erogenous redhead laid her tender arm around his shoulders.

¶I.

“What do you mean Rioric? What’s wrong?” asked Jadia; comforting Rioric with the soothing tranquility of her melodious voice as the words wisped delicately from her full, gentle lips.

¶I.

“They were supposed to have returned from Necropolis by now. They must’ve been exterminated by the blackguards,” said Rioric, staring hazily at Jadia’s pouting lips.

¶I.

Llaralynn turned to see Alyssandra’s eyes welling with tears, placing an arm around the young priestess in much the same way that Jadia had been comforting Rioric. Alyssandra collapsed into Llaralynn’s arms, weeping incessantly as Rylen and William frowned in sympathy.

¶I.

Tif flittered her wings and began buzzing about the table, “Maybe Jadia’s right! I say we go into Faelore and make our way toward Necropia. We might just find Lodin and the other paladins!”

¶I.

The snowy-haired Elf raised an eyebrow in attention to the Pixie’s remark, as everyone save Rioric turned to look at the ancient Elven man.

¶I.

“Well,” said the aging Elf, “it would be dangerous, since we’d have to travel for nearly three weeks through the forests of Faelore, and Faelore isn’t exactly the safest place for Humans, Ogres, Common Elves or Wood Elves since it was taken over by the Unseelie Court. Not to mention that the Valley of Necropia is on the Urukane border of Faelore. If just crossing through that area is enough to keep the Orcs from attacking Faelore, then I’d hate to imagine what would be awaiting us in Necropolis itself, but I suppose if there‘s a chance that Lodin is alright, it’s worth the time and the risk.”

¶I.

Rioric nodded in agreement. The room seemed a little brighter now, as a sensation of hope began to invade the hearts of William, Llaralynn, Rylen, Toren, Jadia, Rioric, Tif, Jadia, and especially Alyssandra.

¶I.

Alyssandra lifted her head from Llaralynn’s shoulder, her eyes bright and full of hope as she slid out of the booth and stood to her feet, “I’m going. Who’s with me?” she charged, wiping the tears from her eyes.

¶I.

“If you’re going, I’m going,” answered William.

¶I.

“Of course I’ll join you,” added Llaralynn with a smile.

¶I.

“Ai’ nat’ ten’ vanima Amandil en Tel’kurunidur,” or ‘anything for a beautiful priestess of the Witch faith,’ said Toren, eliciting a temporary smile from Alyssandra, who knew just enough Elvish to understand what Toren was saying.

¶I.

“Count me in, I was going to Necropolis anyway,” smiled Jadia, squeezing Rioric’s shoulders slightly.

¶I.

“Let’s go find my son then,” Rioric spoke up.

¶I.

“Yay!” Tif beamed, “we’re going to Necropolis!”

¶I.

No one said anything more for several moments, and I wasn’t long before the entire group turned their attention to Rylen.

¶I.

“I guess I’m in too,” said the half-Elf, smirking awkwardly, “can’t exactly let you guys go out and get yourselves killed without me.”

¶I.

Alyssandra thought for a moment, “We’ll stay here for tonight, and leave first thing in the morning. Does everyone have a room?”

¶I.

“Rylen and I are sharing a room, unless he wants to bunk with his daddy tonight,” Llaralynn teased, watching Rylen’s face turn multiple shades of red.

¶I.

“That’s quite alright,” Toren responded with a whimsical grimace and a slight chuckle. “Rioric and I’ll split a room.”

¶I.

“Maybe I should join you,” Jadia quipped.

¶I.

“Actually, Jadia, I think it would be more proper if you stayed with Alyssandra tonight. In case you‘ve forgotten, Toren and I both have wives,” said Rioric.

¶I.

“And I’ll stay with Rylen and Llaralynn!” exclaimed Tif.

¶I.

“Hey no -- no way Tif!” Rylen instructed the little Pixie in his firmest voice.

¶I.

“Oh, I see,” replied Tif. The Pixie then began to sing, “Riley and Llara, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-”

¶I.

“Tif!” Llaralynn snapped, interrupting the pixie mid-song as Tif fluttered back down and landed softly on the table.

¶I.

Rylen couldn’t help but laugh slightly, and neither could Alyssandra. William chortled reservedly. Jadia giggled kittenishly and Rioric and Toren just smiled as Tif took her bows upon the tabletop.

¶I.

“So, shall we rendezvous back here at sunrise?” asked Toren.

Chapter 3
“Artifice”

13th Month, 19th Night, VII 4632

¶I.

Lodin and Gail stood before the towering crypt, jaws dropped in utter dismay. The structure was at three stories tall and of typical gothic architecture, yet augmented with lavish columns on either side of the large, vaulted entrance. The mausoleum appeared ancient and worn, its bricks fracturing as if the building itself were growing furrowed with antiquity. The only part of the soaring sepulcher, which seemed to have escaped the ravages of the ages, was the large stained-glass window just above the doorway. It contained the of crimson, burgundy, claret, maroon, lavender, plum, amethyst, wine, and lilac; the colors shining so brilliantly it was as if the ornate window were being illuminated from within the building itself.

¶I.

“I think we should probably go inside,” suggested Gail.

¶I.

“That doesn’t sound like such a good idea,” said Lodin, “Why would Jadia run from us? None of this makes any sense.”

¶I.

“I, I know,” responded Gail, her hand shaking slightly as she tightened her grip on the lantern she’d been carrying, “but, maybe it is Jadia and something’s wrong with her? Shouldn’t we at least try to help her?”

¶I.

Lodin nodded in agreement, carefully sheathing his longsword. He walked up to the imposing double-doors at the mausoleum’s entrance and placed his hand on the smooth, bronze surface. Neither Lodin nor Gail could see any sort of a pull that might open the ancient tomb, and consequently had no idea how they might enter the structure.

¶I.

“How the hell did Jadia get in here?” Lodin growled, beginning to choke from the musty, rancid fog once again enveloping he and Gail.

¶I.

As Lodin continued to study the enormous metal doors with his outstretched hand, he felt something odd. There was a weak point toward the joint between the two doors, which felt almost gelatinous as he pressed on it. He slid his hand over to the crack itself, and was taken aback when his hand slipped straight through the bronze itself, not unlike a stone plunging into a pond. As the metal rippled around his arm, Lodin found himself worrying.

¶I.

“That’s not right! We just saw this door open a moment ago… how can it be liquid now?” remarked Gail.

¶I.

“We were just in the middle of a battle between living human corpses and carrion eating ghouls, and you’re worrying about a door?”

¶I.

“Well, it just doesn’t seem right…” explained Gail, narrowing her eyes and pouting her lips in a perplexed fashion.

¶I.

“No, you’re duly concerned,” the paladin agreed, swirling his hand around in the fluid portion of the doors.

¶I.

“Well, if that’s the only way in,” said Gail, pushing Lodin aside.

¶I.

Gail treaded directly into the doorway, passing through the massive bronze obstructs as though they were completely incorporeal. The material waved and rippled for a moment in her wake, as Lodin jumped in behind her.

¶I.

The room was incomprehensibly dark; Gail’s lantern failed to illuminate more than a few yards in any direction. Strangely, this same lantern had fully illuminated what Gail would’ve guessed to be similarly sized room in soft, orange light not more than an hour and a half prior. Gail held the lantern up to determine whether or not it was dying down, but of course, it was burning as intensely as it had been an hour ago.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail wandered forward cautiously; unaware of what might have been bound within the mausoleum’s bulwarks. The air was so chillingly silent that their footsteps seemed to echo throughout the expansive crypt’s main chamber. Up ahead, Gail was able to make out in the permeating darkness what looked to be a doorway. With each step Lodin and Gail took, the small, arcing aperture of the mausoleum’s inner stall became ever more visible.

¶I.

The hairs on the back of Lodin and Gail’s necks grew rigid as they neared the arching doorway. Lodin drew his longsword warily in anticipation of what may lie ahead. Lodin stopped Gail by placing a hand on her shoulder, careful not to startle her, and slowly took the lantern from her as he stepped ahead, longsword drawn. Gail followed closely behind, afraid that if she spoke she might alert some sort of hideous monster to their presence. So for now, both she and Lodin remained as silent as was within their ability.

¶I.

Once upon the archway, Lodin and Gail were able to make out some fairly unusual engravings etched into the large granite bricks comprising the wall and doorway. The engravings were ornate, intricately carved with a very palpable attention to detail. Yet, oddly enough, they didn’t seem to be symbols of any kind, as would’ve otherwise been evident by such careful artisanship; they appeared instead to be letters of an unknown ancient alphabet, as if representative of some ancient and obscure written tongue. Lodin held the lantern up to the wall in an attempt to decipher the curious alphabet, but to no avail - and in all truth, he hadn’t the time to study it in any detail. Rather, Lodin simply dangled his hand behind him as Gail reached forward to grasp it, and lead the excessively full-busted young maiden through the doorway.

¶I.

Suddenly, as Lodin and Gail traveled forward, a redheaded woman with an uncanny resemblance to Gail came into the lantern’s radiance. There stood Jadia; completely motionless excepting the occasional blink and the rhythmic oscillation of her radically oversized bosoms with each eerily steady breath she took. Lodin and Gail gasped with surprise, taken aback slightly by how quickly Jadia came into the light. Lodin felt his heart trying to push itself into his throat, and Gail felt as though she’d nearly jumped out of her boots.

¶I.

“Jadia! Thank Gods you’re all right! Why did you run from us?” exclaimed Gail, her words echoing through the mausoleum’s mystifying corridors.

¶I.

As the relieved breaths of those very words flowed from Gail’s lips, Jadia began to transform. Her hair turned from a flaming red to raven black. Her freckles faded away completely, as her skin grew pale and ghostlike. Her eyes mutated from emerald green to golden yellow. Her brow became mottled and wrinkly. Her breasts diminished to less than half of their previous size - although they remained still a great deal larger than what would be considered ‘normal‘. Her waist expanded to a width more fitting of an ordinary yet slender human female, as opposed to the exceptional narrowness of Jadia’s nymph-like torso. Finally, her clothes transformed into a single, decorative silk cloak with silver-weaved trims around collar, the cuffs, and from the collar down the hemline.

¶I.

“Shit,” stated Lodin, bluntly, “I should’ve known.”

¶I.

“What is it?” Gail squeaked.

¶I.

“A vampyress. We’ve played right into her trap” the paladin replied.

¶I.

The otherwise beautiful yet wrinkle-browed vampyress smiled at Lodin and his lady thief companion, flaunting her stiletto fangs, “You speak as though I should’ve had difficulty luring you into my artifice. How little you know my kind. We are the Kindred, and you mortals are nothing more than fodder. Our kind is the supreme race, as you have proven here tonight. How easy it was to tempt your feeble, mortal minds. Our kind is the predator, and your kind is the prey. And now I shall feast upon you, and devour every last drop of your blood. And your corpses shall be possessed by Demons, and rise from death as Vampyres just as the body that I inhabit now. Thus is the curse and privilege of the undead…”

¶I.

“Blah, blah, blah…” said Gail, “you’d think a ‘superior’ being wouldn’t feel the need to blather on so doggedly about being superior.”

¶I.

In one swift motion, Gail reached beside her and pulled Lodin’s longsword from its sheath, swiped at the pretentious vampyress and sliced through her neck, severing her head cleanly from her body as she turned to ashes and vanished into oblivion.

¶I.

Lodin remained silent, stunned by the nonchalant manner in which Gail had slain the vampyress. He gawked at the site, holding the lantern at his side as Gail handed him his longsword. His astonishment went beyond words; it had only been earlier the same evening that Gail was paralyzed by fear at the sight of a zombie.

¶I.

“Don’t look so surprised, Lodin. After being attacked by an army of Zombies, one Vampyre just isn’t so scary,” Gail assured the paladin with a poised smile.

¶I.

“That was truly commendable slaying, Gail” Lodin praised.

¶I.

Gail smiled genially at Lodin as he, still somewhat stunned by the thief’s valiant display, sheathed his longsword and politely returned the lantern to Gail.

¶I.

“Thank you,” replied Gail, her face bathed in an air of unbridled conceit, complete with a smug yet mannerly smile and a high held chin.

¶I.

The lantern’s light began to dim just slightly.

¶I.

Gail removed her backpack one strap at a time, sliding it off her dainty, feminine shoulders and setting it carefully on the floor as she placed the lantern beside it. Crouched in front of the lighting device, she reached beside her and unbuckled her bag, once again fishing out the canister of oil stored within it. She hastily unscrewed the cap at the base of the lamp as well as the cap at the mouth of the oil canister, and poured the oil into the lantern.

¶I.

Lodin heard a subtle clatter coming from, as far as he could tell, the third story of the crypt. The sound managed to draw Gail’s attention as well; she listened intently as she rose to her feet, tossing her backpack over one shoulder while holding the lantern in her other hand. She tilted her head slightly, shifting the lamp to her other hand as she pulled the other, dangling strap of the bag over her bare shoulder. Lodin readied his longsword as the knocking of footsteps above them grew louder with each passing moment. Soon, the noise had reached what Lodin and Gail guessed was the second floor, and still descending as the footsteps from the third floor continued. There couldn’t have been less than two-dozen individuals, all of them making their way down stairs.

¶I.

Suddenly, the room was bathed with a gentle, ocher light. Various brightly burning torches became visible in each of the two main rooms of the sepulcher’s main floor, illuminating the greatly aged crypt. The rooms were rectangular in shape, adjoining to form an almost perfect square. The torches numbered one on either side of the doorway and on both sides of the adjoining wall, two on each of the shorter walls, and three on each of the larger walls; making a total of eighteen fiery torches filling the room with an worrisomely comforting radiance.

¶I.

More disturbing still was the contents of the two rooms; not only were there half a dozen caskets in either room, but the mausoleum walls were covered in ornately decorated compartments that were quite obviously constructed for the storage of human remains. Lodin and Gail couldn’t help but feel intimidated by the sheer number of burial chambers set within the walls, and the dozen sarcophagi within the rooms themselves; it was as if death himself were enveloping the two hostages, swallowing them up as the footsteps grew closer with each passing moment.

¶I.

Gail couldn’t help but take notice of Lodin’s fretful veneer, seeing him begin to sweat as his hand struggled to subdue its own trembling long enough to tighten its grip on the longsword it possessed. “Let me guess, more vampyres?” asked Gail, her voice quivering and her mind-bogglingly picturesque little body shivering with irrepressible horror as she grappled to cross her arms in front of her heaving chest.

¶I.

Lodin swallowed hard and his breathing became increasingly strenuous as he slowly choked out his response, “A lot of them.”

¶I.

Lodin took Gail by the hand and turned to run, as the lids which sat atop the sarcophagi suddenly started to shift themselves away from their caskets, grinding loudly as the creatures within the ancient coffins stretched out their shriveled arms, reaching for freedom. Long, spindly, bony arms were flaying from every coffin in the room before them as lids began falling from the caskets in the room behind them.

¶I.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Gail pleaded, “Now!”

¶I.

Lodin ran toward the doorway through which they’d entered the mausoleum, towing Gail behind him as the arms flailing from the coffins swiped at the paladin and his tormentingly salacious thief companion. They ran quickly to the doorway, slamming into it with an echoing “thud”. Both Lodin and Gail fell back onto the ground, staring at the doors in front of them that had become solid again just as mysteriously as it had become fluid moments before.

¶I.

“What the…?” Lodin murmured, looking to Gail, who appeared to be just as confused as he was.

¶I.

Gail looked behind her and began to scream hysterically as Vampyres started pouring into the two rooms - some from the coffins on the main floor, others apparently from the floors above. Lodin stood to his feet, pulling Gail up beside him, and turned to face the Vampyres as he and Gail braced for the attack, leaning against the massive bronze doors.

¶I.

Suddenly Lodin and Gail were pulled through the doorway, catching their balance as they were somehow accelerated, thrown outside.

¶I.

“How…” Gail began to ask.

¶I.

“Who cares? Run!” Lodin commanded, sprinting away from the mausoleum as rapidly as he could, with Gail in tow.

¶I.

They ran as fast as they possibly could, through row after row of headstones. They kept running until their hearts were pounding so hard they felt as if their chests would burst inside themselves. Their legs grew sore, and numb. They throats ran dry. Running more slowly now, they began to trip and stumble, struggling to keep their balance. They ran until it seemed as though they’d put a mile between themselves and the mausoleum behind them.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail were startled by a shrill ‘crash’ behind them, prompting them to stop dead in their tracks. Their hearts pounding in unison, they nervously looked behind them, swallowing hard as a thick, black swarm poured out of the mausoleum where the massive stained-glass window once was. Gail and Lodin simply stood, their legs paralyzed with fear as they gazed with horror at the cloud of bats flocking toward them.

¶I.

Gail shivered a bit. She’d always liked bats, finding them to be curious, entertaining creatures not unlike rodents or very small monkeys. Yet, even as much as Gail enjoyed watching vast colonies of bats take to the sky at sunset as a child, she knew this was very different. She knew that these bats weren’t bats at all - as did Lodin. Although, Gail found herself wanting to believe that the tiny bird-like creatures had just been scared by the vampyress within the mausoleum, because to believe they actually were vampyres was to almost assuredly admit defeat. ‘There must be dozens of them; at least a hundred or so’ Gail thought, watching the cloud draw nearer.

¶I.

In only a moment’s time, Lodin and Gail found themselves enveloped by the thick dark cloud of the living undead. The creatures beat their wings, swarming around the chesty thief and her paladin friend. Gail threw her arms around Lodin, holding on to him with all the strength she could muster from her tired arms. She clenched her eyes shut, cringing as if she knew these would be her last moments. Lodin simply held her tightly against himself with his free arm, clumsily swiping at the bats with his longsword. Her ear pressed against the Aradian knight’s breast, Gail could feel the beat of his heart as she began to weep.

¶I.

Lodin stared ahead, his eyes cutting through the confusion of the violent mass before him only to see one of the bats transforming itself into its ‘human’ form. It slowly metamorphosed into a tall, dark-haired man with pale skin, bloody red eyes, and a wrinkled brow. The Vampyre that was now standing within the confusion of the cloud of bats began making its way toward Lodin and the terrified young woman whom he embraced. The thing wore a long black cape with a tall moat collar, a red silk, ruffled shirt and black trousers. It opened its mouth and bore its long hideous fangs, hissing like an asp as it closed in on its victims. It wasn’t long before Lodin noticed that the other bats were following suit, all mutating into their so-called ‘human forms’, male and female alike. The males all wore flowing black capes and had blood-red eyes. The females wore long black dresses and had golden yellow eyes. All had ghostly pale skin, pointed ears and wrinkled brows. All hissed menacingly as they closed in around the paladin and the thief.

¶I.

Soon the vampyres were upon them, pawing at them, attempting to pull them away from each other. Gail sobbed as she grappled to hold on to her knight, as one of the vampyres attempted to pry Lodin’s longsword out of his hand. Suddenly, the Vampyre struggling with Lodin was mysteriously pulled away. In his shock, Lodin lost his hold on Gail as a female vampyre pulled her away. The vampyress held Gail around the waist, pulled her head back by the hair, threw her head back and prepared to bite down on Gail’s supple young neck. Yet, mysteriously, that vampyre was also suddenly ripped away. Gail fell to the ground as Lodin started to hack away at the mod of undead monsters.

¶I.

The paladin saw something moving through the crowd. Suddenly it became clear why the vampyress they first encountered had to use a guise to lure them into the mausoleum, and why the vampyres here were being ripped away.

¶I.

“Ghouls!” shouted Lodin, “we’re saved! Vampyres are just moving corpses, like zombies! The ghouls are eating the vampyres!”

¶I.

An army of Ghouls flooded into the vampyric horde, devouring them with an insatiable fervor. Every so often, a Ghoul would accidentally pull a Vampyres head off, causing the creature to disappear in a cloud of dust. Ghoul after ghoul pushed its way into the mayhem, and the vampyres tried with all that was in them to fight back, but the Ghouls were too strong for them. At one point, a vampyre even tried to drink from one of the Ghoul’s necks, but found itself choking on the inhuman blood.

¶I.

The Vampyres were starting to scatter as the screeching pack of Ghouls continued to devour the undead coven. It was then that the chanting began. Louder it grew with each passing moment, drawing ever closer as Vampyre and Ghoul alike were distracted from their battle.

¶I.

Lodin continued to hack away at the Vampyres, aided by the hunger of the Ghouls, when he heard the sounds. He lowered his weapon and stared into the mist. Gail came beside him, holding on to his arm as the Vampyres and Ghouls stood by their sides, awaiting what was to come from the murky cemetery air.

¶I.

“Brains!” the creatures chanted, hidden beyond a veil of fog.

¶I.

The Ghouls twitched their ears and nostril lobes, as the Vampyres grew fearful. Terror blanketed each and every monster at the side of Lodin and Gail, and all stood in anticipation of what was about to emerge from the mist.

¶I.

“Lodin…” Gail whimpered.

¶I.

A drove of zombies dashed out of the haze, colliding with the Vampyres and Ghouls as Lodin managed to fight off each monster that came too close to he and Gail. Once he saw an opening, he held Gail by the hand and made a run for it.

¶I.

Gail looked behind her as Lodin pulled her away, staring into the battle raging on behind them. Zombies were biting into the heads of the Vampyres and the Ghouls, devouring their brains. The Ghouls were eating the dead, rotting flesh of the Vampyres and Zombies. The Vampyres appeared helpless in the three-way slaughter. Their numbers diminished until finally Gail witnessed the last of the Vampyres being eaten by a Ghoul before the battle scene seemed to disappear behind the fog as she and Lodin darted away toward the woods from which they’d entered the cemetery.

¶I.

It wasn’t long until Lodin reached the fence, slumping over the iron bars to catch his breath. Gail did the same, letting go of Lodin’s hand.

¶I.

“I’ve never seen anything like that before.” Gail breathed.

¶I.

“I’ve seen worse,” replied Lodin, hopping over the fence with a strained grunt.

¶I.

Gail climbed over as well, falling into Lodin’s arms. They didn’t say a word, but instead just panted as they marched their tired bodies back into the woods.

¶I.

The woods were so dark it was nearly impossible to see. They simply walked in a straight line, relying on memory to find their way through the bleak woodland in the middle of the city.

¶I.

“Where’d my lantern go?” said Gail, finally breaking the silence.

¶I.

“Um, I think you dropped it somewhere back into the cemetery…” said Lodin, casually looking over his shoulder, “…do you still have the oil?”

¶I.

“Yeah, why?”

¶I.

“Because,” explained Lodin, “I have a lantern in my backpack. I just haven’t been able to use it since I ran out of oil last night.”

¶I.

“You know it’s odd,” Gail began, dropping slightly behind Lodin in order to get into his backpack, “I walked through these woods earlier today, when the sun was still out, and no matter what direction I took it just led right back out into the town through the other side. I don’t know how we even found that cemetery to begin with, to be honest,” she continued, pulling the lantern out of Lodin’s pack, “it’s like it didn’t even exist until tonight.”

¶I.

“Well,” said Lodin, “I’d imagine a cemetery as old as that one would’ve learned how to hide itself during the day.”

¶I.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

¶I.

“Not at all. Believe me Gail; I’ve seen much stranger things. Maybe the cemetery isn’t actually a part of the city. Maybe it’s some kind of undead realm, and the gateway into it just happens to be in these woods. And maybe, just maybe, the gateway is only open at night.” Lodin hypothesized.

¶I.

“I don’t really believe in other realms or anything though,” confessed Gail.

¶I.

“I do. Where do you think peoples’ spirits go when they die? Where do you think Mortifer resides? Or Lucifer, Diana, and Aradia?”

¶I.

“Well, I’m not talking about the afterlife. I definitely believe in an afterlife … but don’t you think the idea of gateways to other realms here on Gaia is sort of … weird?” the thief asked.

¶I.

“This coming from a girl who just a few minutes ago witnessed a pack of Ghouls, an army of Zombies, and a coven of Vampyres wage a brutal war on each other, in the middle of a cemetery that doesn’t appear to exist during the day…”

¶I.

“Okay, okay, I see your point. Hold on a minute, will you?”

¶I.

Lodin stopped as Gail set the lantern she’d taken from his backpack on the ground, taking off her backpack and setting it down along side of it. She knelt down, reached into her pack, pulling out a canister of oil, as well as her flint and steel. She quickly refueled the lantern, and used her flint and steel to light the wick. Gail then closed up the lantern and stood straight up, slinging her backpack over one shoulder.

¶I.

“Much better!” she exclaimed, seeing the lantern’s light cast on the trees around them as she began walking again, “I don’t know why this thing won’t stay lit.”

¶I.

Lodin walked beside her, “So, how exactly did you and Jadia meet?”

¶I.

“Well,” said Gail, “it was about a year ago, in Candleton. We just sort of ran into each other. We knew we had to be related; it’s sort of obvious since we both look just exactly alike. Well, save for our hair and eye color, and the fact that Jadia has freckles.”

¶I.

“Don’t forget the ears.” Lodin reminded.

¶I.

“True, Jadia’s ears aren’t pointed like mine, since she‘s a purebred human and all. Still, you must admit how remarkable the similarity is considering we had different fathers, and fathers of different races at that. Jadia and I traveled together for a few months, until I decided to go my separate way.”

¶I.

“Did you ever get the chance to meet Llara Harnram, Rylen Llyraeus, or William Huxley?” queried Lodin.

¶I.

Gail thought for a moment, “Yes, actually. Oh! Now I know where I recognize your name! They all talked about you, quite often come to think of it. Didn’t you used to be involved with some devout Wiccan girl who wanted to become an Aradian priestess?”

¶I.

“Yes, Alyssandra. Alyssandra Foxley. Though actually she’s made it to the first degree of the priesthood, so she’s a full-fledged Witch now, and my fiancé as well.”

¶I.

This took Gail off guard. ‘Fiancé?’ she thought, disappointed at the prospect that Lodin was spoken for. True she had only just met him a few hours ago, but her infatuation with him was growing by the moment. He was a paladin, which meant that he must be a brave, virtuous, honorable person. Not to mention the fact that he was a stunningly handsome specimen of a man, with the sort of masculine beauty that could make a woman’s loins quiver and reduce her to her knees at a mere glance.

¶I.

“So, she was already a Witch when you left for Necropolis, right?”

¶I.

“Well, yes.” answered Lodin.

¶I.

“Then why didn’t she just order you not to go along?”

¶I.

“Well, I was under orders from the elders of my camp…”

¶I.

“But doesn’t the word of a priestess supercede those orders?”

¶I.

“Well, yes, but…”

¶I.

“Seems to me,” said Gail, with a sorrowful bow of her head, “if she truly cared for you, she would have prevented you from accompanying your paladin camp on such a dangerous mission.”

¶I.

Lodin’s head hung off his shoulders, his heart visibly breaking for brief moment as Gail’s words sunk in. The Aradian knight knew deep down that Alyssandra was aware of how much becoming a paladin had meant to him, and that she wouldn’t have dreamt of interfering with his duties, no matter how dangerous those duties might have been -- though Lodin couldn’t deny that Gail’s words made some sense.

¶I.

“I’m sorry,” Gail offered compassionately. Although a part of her surely wanted Lodin to have his doubts, she couldn’t help but feel horrible for what she’d just done to him, whether it had been intentional or not.

¶I.

“What’s that?” asked Lodin, tapping Gail on the shoulder.

¶I.

Gail stopped, “How should I know?”

¶I.

Just off the trail, sunken back into the trees just enough to be overlooked if Lodin hadn’t happened to have looked over in its direction as they walked by, was a small stone building with a large iron door nestled within the forest. Lodin sheathed his longsword and began to walk toward it.

¶I.

“Don’t go in there! Are you mad or something?”

¶I.

“I think it’s important that we have a look. I’m not sure why, it just is.” answered Lodin.

¶I.

Gail followed him off the trail and back into the trees, stopping next to him at the front of the stone building.

¶I.

“It looks like a crypt. Probably more Vampyres.” said Gail, looking around anxiously as her shaky hand lifted the lantern.

¶I.

“I don’t think so. We would’ve been intercepted before we ever made it to the cemetery.” replied Lodin, placing his hand on the iron vault’s handle.

¶I.

“Lodin, please, I really don’t like this. I have a really bad feeling. Can we just keep going?” Gail shifted her weight, cocking her hips to one side and resting her free hand on her bulbous buttock.

¶I.

The paladin opened the vault, pulling the door back to the outside. He examined the interior of the door, finding what looked to be a steel crossbar. Lodin smiled.

¶I.

“Ha! We can use this crypt, or whatever it is, for shelter. I knew there was some reason it seemed so important to look here,” explained Lodin, “but we should check it out first to make sure it’s all clear.”

¶I.

“I think we shouldn’t. You can if you want.” replied the picturesque young thief.

¶I.

“Fine, hand me the lantern,” said Lodin.

¶I.

Gail looked around, “Okay, okay, I’ll come down there with you.”

¶I.

“Well, hand me the lantern anyway, unless you want lead…” Lodin instructed.

¶I.

Gail handed the lantern to Lodin with a huff.

“Thank you.” said Lodin, shining the lantern into the crypt, revealing a long, dark stairwell.

¶I.

Lodin took a step inside, followed by another. Gail followed closely behind, biting her lip nervously as they traversed the descending tunnel together. The sounds of deep, echoing bellows were faintly audible, growing louder as Lodin and Gail crept down the corridor. The air smelled stale and somewhat rancid, though not nearly so much as the fog they’d encountered in the cemetery. The blocks in the corridor walls were coated with dust, crumbling from centuries of disrepair. The bellows were growing louder, seeming more like deep, roaring moans with each passing moment. Lodin and Gail listened intently as they traveled further into the crypt; the bellows slowly turning into the horrendous moans of tortures unknown.

¶I.

“I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t like this…” Gail whispered repeatedly under her breath.

¶I.

“It’s okay,” said Lodin, nearly as alarmed by Gail’s chanting as he was by the bellowing agonies echoing through the passageway.

¶I.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this. I knew it was a bad idea, but I had to let you drag me down here…”

¶I.

“Gail, it’s okay, really. Nothing we could encounter down here could possibly be as horrible as what we encountered in the cemetery. We’ll be fine.”

¶I.

The bellows grew louder, more agonizing. Screaming now, drowning out the moans. Screams of unfathomable suffering. Screams of men, women, children, even infants violated their ears as Lodin and Gail continued their descent. If the screaming weren’t horrifying enough alone, they were soon accompanied by the hideous laughter of unknown creatures; wails of delight, hysterical, high-pitched howls, and screeches of beings basking in the sounds of agony and suffering.

¶I.

“Lodin, I really think we should turn around now.” Gail whimpered.

¶I.

“Do you really want to have your back turned to whatever’s down there?” replied Lodin.

¶I.

“Well no, but…we haven’t been noticed.”

¶I.

“For all we know. Besides, we’re nearing the bottom now.” Lodin walked down the last few steps and onto the crypt floor, with Gail not more than a step behind him, only to find that they both now stood in a small room, standing before a large, blank stone wall.

¶I.

“Those sounds, they’re louder now.” said Gail, slightly confused.

¶I.

Lodin scratched the back of his head, equally perplexed by this turn of events; “This isn’t as strange as that door in the cemetery, but I have to admit I’m somewhat at a loss here. Do you think those sounds could be coming from the other side of the wall?”

¶I.

“I don’t want to find out. Can we go?” urged Gail.

¶I.

Suddenly, the blocks of the stone wall before them began to fade away, becoming transparent, revealing what was trapped within the wall. As the blocks faded away completely, the wall became a mass of bones and carcasses, with skulls set within it, some chattering, some moaning, and some laughing. It was clear now that the wall itself was the source of the unusual sounds they’d been hearing. The wall swelled and billowed, as skeletal arms and legs began flailing out from the wall’s surface.

¶I.

“Stay back!” Lodin shouted, attempting to be heard over the now deafening cries of the wall as he pushed Gail behind him; “I’ve heard of these! They’re called living walls! They’re formed when someone has been tortured and entombed within a wall, and the trapped spirit gets all pissed off and evil! The spirit awakens any dead nearby and draws them into the wall, absorbing carcass after carcass and soul after soul until it becomes a mass of carcasses and angry spirits! It even assimilates weapons!”

¶I.

Lodin drew his longsword, preparing himself for the living wall’s inevitable attack, “It’ll try to kill us and absorb us into itself! If it doesn’t do that, it will attract zombies, vampyres, wights, ghosts, wraiths, anything undead to kill us, and we’ll still be absorbed into the wall!”

¶I.

“We should run!” screamed Gail.

¶I.

“No! These things have to be destroyed! It’s the only way to free the trapped souls!” yelled Lodin, “Here! Take the lantern!”

¶I.

Gail grabbed the lantern from Lodin’s hand. The light began to flicker and strobe as Lodin assaulted the wall with his longsword. Skeleton arms were reaching out, attempting to grab at Lodin as he hacked away at the living wall. Lodin jumped back beside Gail as the wall began to brandish swords, knives, daggers, flails, shields, and maces that seemed to have appeared from within the wall itself. The wailing and laughter continued as Lodin’s sword clashed with the weapons being wielded by the living wall. He hacked at bony arms possessing the weapons, cutting them away and forcing the wall to drop its armaments one by one.

¶I.

As the weapons began falling to the ground, Gail set the lantern carefully on one of the steps of the stairwell behind them as it continued to strobe, and made a dash toward the fallen weapons. She managed to procure for herself a steel longsword, similar to Lodin’s, as well as a small, convex buckler-shield with a center spike before rolling away to dodge a strike by one of the remaining skeletal arms still brandishing a sword.

¶I.

Lodin continued his attack on the wall, hacking away at it as though his longsword were a machete. Gail joined him, striking and slashing at the unholy abomination. As the two worked together, they began cutting back the wall, shattering bones as the skulls wailed and moaned, dodging lunges by skeletal torsos. Bones began flying, their shards strewn about the floor of the tiny crypt.

¶I.

They kept chopping at the wall, fighting it back further with each passing moment until finally, they saw a light coming from the other side.

¶I.

The living wall finally crumbled, leaving rusted weapons and pieces of bone in its place. On the other side was a large room, lit by what looked to be hundreds of candles; their light reflecting brilliantly from man-sized piles of gold coins, gold bars, and gemstones. Treasure was piled on top of tables, spilling over onto the floor. Necklaces, chalices, decorative weapons, and statues filled the room. It was a remarkable sight.

¶I.

Gail’s jaw went slack, as she followed Lodin into the room in a daze. As they ambled over the mound of debris, Lodin bent over and pulled a sheath from a suit of armor that laid half-buried in the rubble, and handed it to Gail.

¶I.

“Here, for your new sword.” he said with a smile.

¶I.

Gail shook her head, forcing herself to snap out of the trance the sight of all that gold had put her in. “Oh, thank you,” she said.

¶I.

Suddenly, a dark vapor materialized before Lodin and Gail, condensing into a shadowy mass, and taking form. The smoky, shadowy form took the shape of a cloaked figure.

¶I.

The figure reached its decayed, skeletal hands up and pulled the cloak’s hood down, revealing the creature’s head to be nothing more than a skull.

¶I.

“Who dareth to disturb the tomb of Rha Kai Tan?” spewed the creature.

¶I.

“Who’s asking?” replied Gail.

¶I.

“I am the Crypt Keeper who guards the tomb of Rha Kai Tan. Who dareth to disturb his tomb?”

¶I.

“Kha Lo Din, of the Knights of Aradia, and of the kingdom of Béowyn, son of Kha Ri Oric and Crystane Din…” said Lodin, elbowing Gail.

¶I.

“Huh? Oh... and I’m Abigail Renee Rowan, of the Taillion Thieves’ Guild, and of the kingdom of Faelore, daughter of Aramyn Haran and Larissa Rowan,” chimed the young thief.

¶I.

“Hast thou, paladin, not come to desecrate the tomb of the greatest blackguard to ever live? And hast thou, thief, not come to plunder his riches?”

¶I.

“No,” they answered in unison, shaking their heads.

¶I.

“Ye speaketh filthy lies! ‘Tis only to destroy and pillage a paladin and thief would invade this tomb! ‘Tis surely lies you doth speak from thy putrid lips, for ye could not be here for another purpose!”

¶I.

Lodin struck at the crypt keeper with his sword, slicing it straight through the center. The robe flew across the room as the bones fell to the floor. He then stomped on the crypt keeper’s skull, shattering it under his leather boot to ensure its death.

¶I.

“So,” said Lodin, sheathing his longsword, “what’s say we have a look around?”

¶I.

“Sounds good to me!” replied Gail, sheathing her longsword with a satisfied giggle.

¶I.

Gail walked to the nearest table, marveling at the richness of the bounty before her. ‘This is amazing!’ she thought, running her fingers through the pile of gold coins. She stopped, unbuckled the enarms of her shield, letting it fall to the floor, and slid her backpack off her shoulders, catching one of the straps in her hand. She tossed the backpack atop the table, unbuckled it, and began to rummage through the golden plethora in search of particularly spectacular finds.

¶I.

“It just occurred to me,” began Lodin, browsing the other side of the room with his hands behind his back, “if this is the tomb of Rha Kai Tan, where’s his sarcophagus?

¶I.

“Who cares? Who the hell is Rha Kai Tan, anyway?”

¶I.

“Kaitan was the most powerful blackguard in all of Gaia’s history. He founded the Order of Blackguards, and died in the year sixteen twenty-four of the seventh era.” explained Lodin.

¶I.

“Wait, so you’re telling me that there were no blackguards until three thousand years ago?”

¶I.

“No, there were blackguards, but no Order. Before Kaitan came along, the only blackguards were paladins who betrayed their vows to Aradia and pledged allegiance to Mortifer. They weren’t even called blackguards yet; instead, they were called ‘Mortiferean knights’ or ‘Mortiferean paladins’, and the like. They sometimes formed small bands, but there wasn’t any real unity among the different bands. Rha Kai Tan changed all of that, brought them all together and formed the Order of Blackguards. Every paladin neophyte learns about Kaitan before becoming an actual paladin, since the Order is now our most dire adversary.”

¶I.

Gail continued to scrounge through the gold and jewels on the table in front of her, eventually coming upon a very expensive-looking platinum chain link necklace with a fist-sized diamond pendant. She decided she’d better take it, and so proceeded to put it on. It fit snugly around her neck, as though it were meant to be worn as a choker. She reckoned that Rha Kai Tan must have had an exceptionally small neck.

¶I.

“Aren’t you going to take anything?” she asked.

¶I.

Lodin turned around to face her, “I don’t have much need for treasure. I’ll probably just grab a few gold pieces on the way out.”

¶I.

“Suit yourself,” replied Gail, placing a platinum, jewel-encrusted goblet into her backpack, followed by a golden chalice with a ruby-studded brim, as well as a few gold, silver, and platinum necklaces.

¶I.

Gail found several nearly fist-sized diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, amethysts, and even an alexandrite or two, which she eagerly placed inside her rucksack with great delight. She then proceeded to examine a pile of coin purses that sat on the table, some containing nothing but gold coins, others containing nothing but platinum pieces, and a few containing bronze, silver, brass, and electrum coins. She didn’t even bother to count as she greedily tossed an armful of the pouches into her worn knapsack. Gail then noticed a couple of small satchels laying on the table, so she quickly loaded one with gold coins, as well as a few silver, platinum, and electrum pieces, and set it beside her pack.

¶I.

Meanwhile, Lodin paced back and forth near the far wall of the crypt, examining some of the golden statues. One statue was a life-sized, eerily realistic winged gynogryphon; another appeared to be a small dragon, with each horn, claw, fold, and scale given extraordinary attention to detail. Another stature looked basically human in shape, but was utterly featureless. Around the statue’s neck hung an amulet, a slightly larger than fist-sized, obsidian-looking stone attached to a platinum chain.

¶I.

“You said earlier that you only heard rumors that Kyra was still alive. From what I remember, talking to Jadia, and from my conversations with Larissa and Isaac, she hasn’t been seen since she was eight. I take it that you and Jadia never found her?”

¶I.

Gail frowned, “No, we keep hearing these rumors that someone who looks just like us has been seen here or there. We’ve been assuming it was Kyra. How many women could there be who look like us?”

¶I.

“Good point.” said Lodin, “So if you only met Jadia less than a year ago, that means you’ve never even seen Kyra...”

¶I.

“No, all I really know about her is what Jadia’s told me,” answered Gail.

¶I.

Lodin kept his eyes fixed on the amulet that hung from the statue’s neck, mesmerized at its glimmer. Feeling compelled, he reached up and removed the talisman from the statue, slipping it over his own head. He looked down at it, admiring its beauty; satisfied in his find.

¶I.

Suddenly, the room began to rumble.

¶I.

“Shit!” Gail squealed, closing up her backpack, tossing it around her back as she slipped her arms through the straps.

¶I.

Gail threw the satchel over her head, picked up her shield and ran for the exit, Lodin closely following. Leaping over the pile of rubble where the living wall once stood, Gail grabbed the lantern and began running up the stairs with Lodin not more than a beat behind.

¶I.

They ran up the stairs as the light from behind them grew dim and disappeared with a loud crash. The tomb was beginning to cave in. They ran as quickly as they could, the tunnel collapsing in on itself just behind them. No sooner did they exit the ancient building than it completely sank into the ground, trees falling on top of it, burying it almost completely.

Chapter 4
“Acquisitions”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

The ground stopped shaking, as Lodin and Gail took a moment to catch their breath, looking behind them at the pile of stones and fallen trees where the entrance of the tomb stood just moments before.

¶I.

“All that gold… all those jewels... everything... gone...” Gail panted, her voice saturated with melancholy as she watched the few remaining stones of Rha Kai Tan’s crypt sink into the loam.

¶I.

“C’mon, we should head back into the city and try to find our way out of here.” Lodin urged.

¶I.

Still attempting to catch their breath, Lodin and Gail shuffled away from the crypt, slowly making their way back toward town.

¶I.

“This has been a fairly eventful evening,” remarked Gail.

¶I.

“Fairly,” Lodin agreed.

¶I.

The sky began to turn from pitch black to navy as Lodin and Gail exited the woods, and they were now able to see the ancient city’s obsidian skyline against a dark blue canvas. It would still be quite some time before the sun would start to breach the horizon. Although the ground remained nigrous for the time being, they would be able to see without the use of the lantern in another hour or so.

¶I.

One particular feature which stood out above all the others was a towering silhouette, soaring high above the skyline, seemingly into the fabric of the sky itself. It was obvious that the immense construct protruding from the horizon was exactly what Lodin had been looking for.

¶I.

The Temple of Mortifer.

¶I.

“Is that it?” Gail asked.

¶I.

“That’s the Mortiferean temple,” replied Lodin.

¶I.

The two continued their trek through the deserted city, and although the streets were no lighter than they had been when Lodin and Gail first encountered each other, the slightly lightened sky was a comforting sight to behold, for it declared that the night was nearly over.

¶I.

Lodin looked at the small, round shield strapped to Gail’s arm. “Why didn’t you bring any weapons?”

¶I.

“What do you mean? I still have the longsword I found,” Gail answered.

¶I.

“No, I mean, why did you have to pick up the sword and shield down there in the crypt? I would’ve thought you’d bring weapons with you to a place of such reputation as Necropolis City.”

¶I.

“Oh I brought weapons with me, but they disappeared,” explained Gail.

¶I.

“Disappeared?”

¶I.

“I went to sleep one night, and in the morning my buckler and falchion were gone.”

¶I.

Before much longer, the darkness had lifted enough for Lodin and Gail to vaguely make out the ground beneath them and the design of the worn buildings which surrounded, although everything was still quite dark and the lantern was still very necessary.

¶I.

* * *

¶I.

After what seemed no less then an hour’s travel, Gail and Lodin eventually found themselves in what appeared to be a park, sparsely wooded with dead trees. The gnarled, leafless branches danced back and forth as an eerie breeze crept through the square, causing the hairs on the backs of Lodin and Gail’s necks to stand on end. Gail turned around slowly, shining the lantern all around her and Lodin, revealing that much of the ground was blanketed with human craniums, ribs, femurs, tibias, tarsal, phalanges, mandibles, vertebrae, radiuses, fibulas, teeth, and carpals, among various other bones.

¶I.

In the distance, they could now see the wall surrounding the Temple of Mortifer.

¶I.

The branches creaked above, scraping against one another, rustling and crackling.

¶I.

“What was that?” said Gail with a start, raising her lantern in an attempt to see into the dead, twisted canopy above them.

¶I.

Lodin squinted his eyes and peered up into the limbs, seeing if he could perhaps detect something moving around. Sure enough, the faint glow that the lantern cast upon the decaying eves was reflected back for an instant by two luminescent blue eyes. The branches began to shake once again, this time accompanied by the clamoring of chains, as Lodin and Gail attempted to follow the ruckus it was causing. They managed to make out a faint silhouette of the creature as it moved through the trees. It appeared to be human, at least in overall form. Of course, then again, so do vampyres and zombies.

¶I.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anything that looked like a man with eyes that glow blue,” explained Lodin.

¶I.

The chains began to clatter again. Lodin and Gail stared as the dark, human-like figure was lowered from the limbs above by several long, rope-like chains.

¶I.

Now well within the radiance of the lantern, the creature could be seen more clearly. It was most definitely humanlike in shape and proportion, but with a blank, featureless face lacking anything that might resemble a mouth, nostrils, or ears. It’s nose was little more than a protruding ‘bump’ centered just below the eyes; and its eyes themselves, no longer emitting a visible glow due to the light emanating from the lantern, were entirely dark, translucent blue with no discernable pupils, irises, or whites. The creature had mottled gray and blue skin and completely lacked any sort of hair. Chains wrapped around most of the creature’s body, from the chain link circlet on its head to the heavy, steel chains draping from its shoulders and wrapping around its waist, arms, and legs. Many stray ends dangled from the creature’s steely wraps, most equipped with hooks, flail heads, weights, and other instruments designed to inflict serious injury.

¶I.

The creature’s chains let go of the branches above, slithering down through the air as they descended and coiled around the creature’s arms, legs, and waist. Other chains lashed out, and began to whip around like the tentacles of a kraken, thrashing violently as they broke tree limbs and smashed bones.

¶I.

One of the chains swiped at Gail’s feet as she dropped the lantern and instinctively dodged the steely tendril by executing a standing gainer, throwing her head backward, followed by her arched torso, piking one leg up into the air with enough momentum to pull herself into a full backflip. She landed softly on one foot as the other trailed behind, and crouched in anticipation of the next inevitable strike.

¶I.

Lodin braced himself, holding his sword in front of him with both hands, but was promptly distracted by a nigrescent ‘glow’ (so to speak) emanating from the amulet that hung from his neck. The non-light continued to radiate out from within the amulet, darkening the area around it in much the same way that a lantern would brighten its surroundings.

¶I.

Suddenly, the paladin’s chest was struck by a spiked flail head, pitching him backward several feet. He was spun around and flipped end over end several times before finally landing hard on his stomach with a mouth full of dirt.

¶I.

He raised his head and spit the bitter soil from his mouth, finding himself face to face with an ashen-black human skull. Lodin’s sword fell in front of him, it’s hilt impacting the skull with a resounding “clang” before falling to the ground. Lodin scrambled to his feet, only to see that the flail head’s impact had cracked the amulet hanging from his neck. From the broken gem poured a strange black vapor, which flowed to the ground and began to swirl around the strange iron skull. The necklace then crumbled to pieces, fell from Lodin’s neck, and turned to dust before hitting the ground.

¶I.

Gail ducked another swipe by the creature’s chains from the right, then jumped high into the air to avoid a chain swiping at her knees from her left. She landed softly on the ground with just enough time to see yet another chain hurling toward her and block it with her buckler with a resonant “clang“. A harpoon whizzed toward her at the end of another chain; though she managed to elude this one with a standing aerial cartwheel as the metal spear slammed into a tree behind her. Once she landed, she somersaulted forward just in time to dodge a large steel ball attached to one of the chains. She stood to her feet, only to see a hook speeding toward her from the right at the end of still another chain. She bent her knees and arched her back, leaning backward as far as she possibly could, her torso now balanced horizontally just above the ground in an extreme sort of ‘limbo’ position. The chain soared nearly a foot over her stomach, but just barely grazed the snug, thin layer of linen that contoured her mountainous breasts, before trailing off to her left as she threw her arms behind her and thrust her legs high into the air for a handstand. She turned this into a back-full-twist-handspring, her hands narrowly avoiding two more chains which came at her along the ground in a scissor-like fashion. She landed softly and silently on both feet, facing away from the chain-wielding creature.

¶I.

“Lodin! I could use a little help here!” cried Gail, turning to the side and rounding-off into several back-handsprings to avoid strike after strike of the creature’s steel tentacles.

¶I.

The iron skull’s eye sockets began to glow red, and the ground began to shake as Lodin backed away. Suddenly, a massive suit of iron armor sprang from the dirt with the skull as its head. Although Lodin had never actually seen one with his own eyes before, he knew what it was -- an iron golem. The creature was absolutely huge, at least fifteen feet in height, and every inch of it was a dark, charcoal gray -- like cast-iron. Its body seemed comprised mainly of a cuirass forged to simulate a large human torso, a plackart which bore a striking resemblance to abdominal muscles, a gorget, pauldrons, elbow gauntlets with individually laminated fingers, sabatons, shynbalds, gaurde-reins, poleyns, plated chausses, and rerebraces. The armor appeared to be filled with coils of iron chains, and the golem’s sabatons and gauntlets seemed disproportionately large in comparison to the rest of its body.

¶I.

Lodin stared up at the giant, skull-headed monstrosity in both fear and awe. Its eye sockets still emanating red light, now releasing crimson smoke into the air above it.

¶I.

“How might I serve thee, master?” asked the golem in a deep, resonating voice.

¶I.

As the golem spoke, its iron mandible moved up and down, and the rubescent aura radiating from within its eye sockets grew brighter and dimmer in intensity with each syllable.

¶I.

“The ... chain ... the chain demon...” Lodin stuttered, pointing back toward Gail as she grappled with the creature.

¶I.

“Yes master,” the iron golem obeyed.

¶I.

The golem stamped toward the chain demon, shaking the ground with each footfall.

¶I.

The demon retracted its steel tendrils and began to back away as the gigantic suit of armor slowly walked toward it -- its intentions obvious.

¶I.

Gail and Lodin stood motionless as the demon, nearly paralyzed with fear, withdrew itself even more slowly than the golem was making its way toward it. The ground continued to shake with each step the Iron golem took, and in moments the golem was upon the demon.

¶I.

The demon finally turned to run, but it was too late. The golem leaned over and snatched up the demon in one of its massive, gauntlet hands. The demon squirmed and flailed its arms and legs as the golem tightened its grip around the demon’s waist.

¶I.

“Oh Gods ... Lodin ... what is that thing?” Gail queried.

¶I.

“I think ... I think that’s my golem!” declared Lodin.

¶I.

Lodin picked his longsword up from the ground, sheathed it, and walked over to Gail with a bright grin upon his face.

¶I.

“How?” she asked.

¶I.

“I think it had something to do with the amulet I found down in Rha Kai Tan’s crypt. It broke, and this strange fog came out of it and began swirling around this iron skull that was laying on the ground, and then the amulet disappeared and the golem came to life,” the paladin answered.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail both stared in awe as the golem held the demon in its hand. With a single, effortless squeeze from the golem, the demon erupted into a practical fountain of blue slime and entrails. The demon’s innards poured out of the newly-created orifices scattered about its body as the pressure applied by the golem’s grip forced the demon’s entrails to make their own exists from their body. One of the demon’s eyes exploded with blue blood and gray brains gushing from its head in a coagulated, blue waterfall. Thick, transparent blue fluid was now dripping from almost every part of the demonic corpse, as were globs of gray viscera. Slime-covered sheets of gray and blue mottled skin fell from the demon’s body, accompanied by soggy chunks of its bowels. Most disturbingly, the demon appeared to be yet still alive, its limbs twitching slightly as goop oozed from its right eye -- or at least, from what remained of its right eye. It was a truly grotesque sight.

¶I.

The golem dropped the mangled remains of the demon and turned around, staring down at Lodin with blobs of demon slop still plummeting from its body onto the ground below, “I serve only thee, Master Kaitan.”

¶I.

“My name is Kha Lo Din,” said Lodin.

¶I.

The golem appeared confused, but then simply shrugged its shoulders. “I serve only thee, Master Lodin.”

¶I.

“That’s better,” replied Lodin, a slight chuckle in his voice.

¶I.

Gail furrowed her brow. “Wait,” she interjected, “this was Rha Kai Tan’s golem?”

¶I.

“If I had to guess, I’d say it was going to be. Seeing as the amulet that brought him to life crumbled to pieces as soon as he was awakened, I’d be inclined to think that Kaitan never had the chance to animate the golem before he died,” Lodin explained. “What’s your name, golem?”

¶I.

“Whatever thou decidest, Master Lodin,” the golem answered.

¶I.

“I think I’ll call you ... Vadok,” replied Lodin.

¶I.

“Lodin, do you even know what that means?” Gail interrupted, her eyebrows raised worrisomely.

¶I.

“It doesn’t mean anything, it just came to me. I sorta like the way it sounds...”

¶I.

“It’s Orcish,” explained Gail, “It means ‘death’. Besides, it sounds silly.”

¶I.

“Well I like it, but I’ll have to think about it a bit more. Never mind golem!”

¶I.

Gail rolled her eyes and walked over to where she’d dropped the lantern. She picked it up and began walking once again toward the Mortiferean Temple, as Lodin and the iron golem followed.

¶I.

The trio made it not five yards before the amulet adorning Gail’s neck began to glow. Gail turned around.

¶I.

“Lodin, what’s happening?”

¶I.

“I don’t know,” the Paladin answered, his mouth agape. He then noticed Gail’s attention to the chain demon’s corpse, just slightly behind where he and the golem stood. Lodin looked over his shoulder to see the corpse evaporating into a strange blue mist.

¶I.

The mist then flowed toward Gail, and slowly it entered the amulet that hung from her choker. The jewel’s glow faded away, leaving in the luminescence’s wake not a diamond or clear gem, but rather a translucent, deep blue one. The stone now was neither as pale as an aquamarine nor as dark as a blue sapphire, but could’ve best been described as having the richness of a perfect emerald, despite the difference in tincture.

¶I.

“What is it?” asked Gail, looking to Lodin as he stared at the amulet she wore on her throat.

¶I.

“It’s blue now,” replied Lodin.

¶I.

“The gem?”

¶I.

“Yeah, it’s blue.”

¶I.

Gail fingered the amulet for a few moments, trying to wrap her mind around what’d just happened.

¶I.

“Weird,” she said, her face thoroughly swathed in a perplexed visage.

¶I.

Gail then simply shrugged, knowing she could never make sense of it on her own, and began walking once more toward the Mortiferean Temple. Lodin trotted up beside her as the golem lagged slightly behind.

¶I.

“So how many languages do you speak?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Well, my parents taught me both Mannish and Elvish, and my father taught me a little Darkelf on the side. I also picked up a bit of Orcish in my early teens. But, Orcish is really easy to learn. Mannish has so many grammatical rules that it’s probably the most difficult language to learn in all of Borea, except for maybe Elvish, but Orcish is very simple and straightforward. Instead of saying, ‘I’m feeling hungry and would like to eat something soon’, the equivalent Orcish phrase might translate ‘Gail hungry, Gail want eat now’.”

¶I.

Lodin and Gail walked side by side, with the golem close behind them. They were already growing accustomed to walking near the creature, even though each of its footfalls caused the ground to shake.

¶I.

“What’s odd,” Gail began, “is that the Orcish word for Gaia is ‘urth’, which comes from the common word ‘earth’.”

¶I.

“As in dirt?”

¶I.

“No kidding, the Orcs basically call our whole world ‘dirt’. I guess Gaia is nothing more than dirt to them.”

¶I.

“That actually makes sense, in a way. Orcs don’t seem to have a lot of respect for Gaia. They burn Her forests and rape the land. Those aren’t the actions of a race that sees Gaia as anything more than just earth. Do the Orcs have names for Lucifer, Diana, or Aradia?”

¶I.

“No, the Orcs don’t even believe in them. They have their own Gods. But the Elvish names for Lucifer and Diana are ‘Helel’ and ‘Lalal’, and Aradia is the same in common as it is in Elvish.”

¶I.

“I know,” said Lodin.

¶I.

Gail looked at Lodin, blushing a bit. “Of course, forgive me. Any paladin with even the slightest grasp of Elvish would know that.”

¶I.

“So, say something in Darkelf.”

¶I.

“Huh? Okay, um ... let’s see.... Usstan ssinssrin ulu inbal vith xuil dos. Usstan shlu’ta xun klezn dos shlu’ta naut tangis’ z’reninth.”

¶I.

“You speak the language a little more fluently than you’d lead me to believe. What does it mean?” Lodin inquired.

¶I.

“It means you’re very handsome.” Gail smiled, blushing brightly.

¶I.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Lodin smirked, with a somewhat confused expression, “Now say something in Orcish.”

¶I.

“Hmmm…Gail shum brîz, nargzab lat zogtark agh tramizish; gozadizishziizg ulur-zurm.” she said.

¶I.

“Okay, so what does that mean?” Lodin queried.

¶I.

“It more or less means that I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” replied Gail.

¶I.

“Same here,” Lodin added with a smile.

¶I.

Gail, Lodin, and the golem finally reached the stone wall surrounding the Temple of Mortifer.

¶I.

“Golem, break down the gate,” Lodin commanded

¶I.

The golem complied, stamping its way to the gate, its eyes burning red as smoke trailed behind it.

¶I.

“So, what do you think of the name ‘Deathstrike’?”

¶I.

“It’s silly and preposterously cliché,” the thief answered.

¶I.

“How about ‘Darkshadow’?”

¶I.

“Lodin, you cannot be serious!”

¶I.

“Well, what do you think I should name it?”

¶I.

“Something strong, but also something that rolls easily off the tongue. Something that commands respect.”

¶I.

“You mean, a name like ‘Gragtar the Destroyer’?”

¶I.

“Lodin, you’re not even trying! Either that, or you’re just trying to be funny.”

¶I.

“Then why don’t you give it a name?”

¶I.

“Well, something a bit less guttural than ‘Gragtar’. What do you think of the name ‘Baelzathoth’?”

¶I.

“Say that again?”

¶I.

“Bah-el-zuh-thoeth.”

¶I.

“Golem!” Lodin exclaimed.

¶I.

“Yes Master Lodin?” the golem responded in its usual booming, monotone voice.

¶I.

“Your name is Baelzathoth!”

¶I.

“Yes, Master Lodin,” replied Baelzathoth, with crimson smoke still rising from his rubescent eye sockets.

¶I.

“Lodin, what’s that?” Gail gasped, pointing at a patch of dirt near one of the larger statues.

¶I.

The soil writhed as a hand reached up from beneath the billowing loam. It was long and spindly, its bloodstained, dirt-coated bones lacking any flesh whatsoever. It violently whipped about, despite its muscular deficiency.

¶I.

Lodin shifted his gaze back and forth with narrowed eyes to find that there were many skeletal limbs exhuming themselves from the dirt all around the trio.

¶I.

“Oh Gods, not again...” Gail whined, slumping over with a look of unbridled annoyance about her face. “Can’t we even go a full hour without being attacked by some sort of monster?”

¶I.

The skeletons continued to exhume themselves, lifting what was left of their bodies from their places of rest. Now clambering out of the dirt and onto their feet, the skeletons uneasily lurched toward Lodin, Gail, and Baelzathoth, their bones rattling with each awkward step the things took. They were coming from all directions, completely surrounding the trio.

¶I.

“Gail, this is no time for sarcasm.” Lodin warned.

¶I.

“Please Lodin, these things couldn’t possibly be any worse than those vampyres and zombies we faced back in the cemetery, and now we have a gigantic iron golem to help us fight,” replied Gail, bending over to set her lantern on the ground.

¶I.

“I wouldn’t get too confident. Zombies and vampyres don’t reconstitute themselves and keep fighting after you cut off their heads. Zombies and vampyres can’t merge together and reassemble themselves into huge monsters like skeletons can, either.”

¶I.

“What?”

¶I.

“We have to get out of here, now!”

¶I.

Lodin and Gail hadn’t even a chance to run before they each felt a large, metal hand wrap around their waist, as Baelzathoth grasped both of them and lifted them up onto his broad iron gorget-shoulders. The paladin and the thief watched in awe as the skeletons closed in around the golem’s legs and began to attack them, their bony limbs no match against Baelzathoth’s thick, iron-plate exoskeleton.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth! Take us to the temple!” Lodin commanded, pointing forward as he sat upon the golem’s right shoulder.

¶I.

Baelzathoth began moving forward as Lodin struggled to keep his balance. Gail nearly fell as the golem took his first few steps; she had to struggle to keep herself centered on to Baelzathoth’s left shoulder, and was at one point forced to drop the lantern, which shattered as it hit the ground. The golem continued forward, crushing skeletons under his massive feet as others attacked his legs with rusted iron swords.

¶I.

Lodin, Gail and Baelzathoth approached the temple’s entrance as a mass of skeletons began to congregate on the massive stone stairway.

¶I.

“Lodin, what are they doing?” Gail asked, watching the skeletons grapple with one another, pulling each other apart.

¶I.

“I’m not sure.” Lodin replied.

¶I.

Pieces of the skeletons Baelzathoth had crushed began skipping and tumbling across the ground, not unlike leaves in a strong breeze, toppling end over end toward the gang of skeletons standing between Baelzathoth and the doorway of the temple.

¶I.

Baelzathoth stopped dead in his tracks. Lodin and Gail simply stared on as the skeletons disassembled each other, piled on top of one another, and reassembled themselves.

¶I.

The pile of bones grew taller by the moment. It shambled, shook, and transformed into a twenty-foot tall, worm-like pillar of bone. The skeletal tower waved back and forth, stray pieces of bone falling from its mass as it ambled toward Baelzathoth, Gail, and Lodin.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, destroy the assemblage!” Gail screamed.

¶I.

The golem did nothing.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, do what Gail told you!” Lodin commanded.

¶I.

“Yes, master Lodin,” the golem responded in his usual rumbling, monotone voice. Baelzathoth drew back his right arm and then hurled his fist at the towering pile of bone, shattering most of it instantly.

¶I.

“That was easy,” said Gail.

¶I.

The bones left on the ground after Baelzathoth’s assault began shaking, then snapped back toward the assemblage, skipping end-over-end along the ground and rejoining that from which they’d been separated. The assemblage began to move again, waving back and forth. Skeletal arms dangled from its surface, brandishing all varieties of sword, knife, dagger, and shield. The assemblage then slowly, shakily crawled toward the golem, apparently hoping to get close enough that the skeletal arms flailing about would be able to reach Baelzathoth before he had the chance to strike at it again.

¶I.

The golem pulled his right arm back again, this time crossing it in front of him so that his right hand was over his left shoulder, uncomfortably close to Gail. Baelzathoth then swung his arm toward the assemblage, back-handing it with enough force to completely dismember it. Pieces of bone flew in all directions, as did the rusted weapons it held.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, take us inside, quickly! Before it has a chance to reassemble!” Lodin commanded.

¶I.

Baelzathoth stomped up the stairway, then stopped at the soaring double-door entrance of the temple. The golem remained perfectly still for a moment, then raised both arms high into the air and brought them crashing down against the wooden, iron-reinforced doors.

¶I.

The doors came crashing down, and Baelzathoth entered the temple.

¶I.

Unfortunately, Gail had left the lantern behind, and the interior of the Mortiferean temple was far too dark to see. It seemed, though, that the Golem’s rubescent eyes were providing a modest amount of illumination -- enough for Lodin and Gail to see the area immediately surrounding them. And from what little of the temple’s interior they could see, it seemed rather empty.

¶I.

Just then, the floor began to creak, and gave way under Baelzathoth’s weight.

Chapter 5
“The Arising”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

Alyssandra felt herself enveloped by the dawning sun as she slowly awakened, yawning deeply as she stretched her arms back behind her head. The tepid morning rays poured in through the window across the room, filtering through the drab curtains and blanketing the somnolent priestess in their warming embrace. Alyssandra smiled as she rolled over on to her side, before realizing what the new day would soon bring -- a search for her astray, and quite possibly deceased fiancé. She assured herself that Lodin was a resourceful, intrepid man who could no doubt persevere even in the darkest corner of Faelore, and that she mustn’t fear for his safety but rather await his inevitable rescue or return. Suffice it to say, she couldn’t help but feel as though she were deluding herself a bit, recognizing that her worst nightmare could very well have come true and that she might have no way of ever finding out. Still, for Lodin’s sake if not for her own, she’d have to keep herself optimistic and search relentlessly for her missing lover -- for even if the worst had occurred, she owed him at least that much.

¶I.

Once Alyssandra’s vision focused, she saw Jadia sleeping flat on her back upon the other bed, still sound asleep of course. Jadia breathed heavily in her slumber, not yet so much as stirring as the sun bathed her in its dawning richness. Alyssandra sat up, scanning the room with an air of concern about her face.

¶I.

“Tif? You awake yet?” the priestess asked.

¶I.

“Yeah,” replied a weary, timid, and somewhat muffled voice coming from Jadia’s direction as the buxom thief let out a yawn.

¶I.

Jadia’s eyes fluttered open, “Huh?”

¶I.

“I’m right here!” said Tif, her voice a bit more lively now.

¶I.

Jadia raised her head up and looked straight before her, “What are you doing in there, Tif?” she said with a sigh; sure enough, Tif was nestled comfortably under Jadia’s covers.

¶I.

“What? It was warm!” Tif beamed, climbing out from under the blanket.

¶I.

Alyssandra couldn’t help but smile as Tif stood up and stretched.

¶I.

“We should get moving,” Alyssandra asserted, throwing her covers off as she swung her legs around so she sat on the side of the bed, stretching her arms high above her head and arching her back stalwartly before standing to her feet.

¶I.

Alyssandra wore a short length silk nightgown that fell slightly below her middle thighs, suspended by two thin laces that acted as shoulder straps, holding the gown high enough that it almost completely covered her breasts. The silk had been woven so delicately that it was semitransparent, and the bottom was trimmed with gold threads woven directly into the silk itself - an expensive procedure for any tailor, to be sure.

¶I.

The priestess turned to face the nightstand between her and Jadia’s beds, opened the compartment beneath it and removed a large, black velvet mass. She shook it as if straightening a sheet, unfolding the ritual robe before her eyes. She slid her arms through the sleeves and buttoned the robe, but didn’t bother to cover her head with the hood. Alyssandra’s arms disappeared into the robe once more as the sleeves dangled lifelessly at her sides, moving only slightly as the priestess’s arms fumbled around within the robe’s trunk for a few moments. Once her arms reemerged through the sleeves, she held the silk nightgown in hand, dropping it on the bed behind her.

¶I.

“Well, I’m almost ready,” said Alyssandra with a smug grin.

¶I.

Jadia groaned slightly, sitting up as Tif fluttered away and began hovering about the room. Jadia kicked her covers off and stood to her feet. Her nightgown was essentially the same as Alyssandra’s, but was much larger in order to accommodate the pair of abnormally replete bounties concealed within and lacked the gold weaving around the trim. Additionally, the straps on Jadia’s nightgown were longer and so exposed far more of her bosoms than Alyssandra’s gown had, and were being pulled taught by the unusual distance between Jadia’s shoulders and the front of her breasts. The gown was unable to cover as much of Jadia’s legs due to the size of her frontal endowments, and so scarsely managed to keep her loins out of view.

¶I.

“Give me a minute…” Jadia said with a yawn, placing her hands on her lumbar and arching her back dramatically.

¶I.

“No problem,” replied Alyssandra, sitting down on the bed genially as Tif landed on the nightstand beside her.

¶I.

Jadia shuffled her feet across the floor, her vision still hazy with the general miasma that seems to imbue those sorts of people who relish the night only to be worn and tired at the dawn of the new day; to be blunt, Jadia was most definitely not a ‘morning person’. She rubbed her eyes, yawning once more as she shuffled her way to the tri-fold partition at the corner of the room wherein she’d change into her day clothes. As the thief walked across the window, the morning light silhouetted her from behind for a brief moment, transforming her luxurious red hair a dark sort of lake-crimson, making her gown almost completely transparent as well as advertising each and every one of Jadia’s outlandishly exaggerated feminine features -- from her diminutive waist and lean, flat stomach, to her aboundingly curvaceous hips and buttocks, to her epic bust.

¶I.

The goddess-like rogue finally disappeared behind the changing screen and began removing her clothing, unaware that Alyssandra and Tif were once again staring at her silhouette from the other side of the translucent orange material. Even Alyssandra Foxley herself, who had every reason to feel comfortable (if not rampantly conceited) with her own marvelously exquisite physique, couldn’t help but feel somewhat awkward in Jadia’s presence. There had been many times that the priestess found herself staring in envy at Jadia’s unworldly body, and many times she feared Jadia would misinterpret her envy for a physical attraction that Alyssandra simply didn’t feel; unlike the ultra-bosomy thief, Alyssandra felt no lust for her own gender.

¶I.

“You’d better hurry up, Jadia,” Alyssandra urged, “we were supposed to rendezvous with the others down in the bar at sunrise, and we’re nearly an hour late.”

¶I.

“Relax,” instructed Jadia, draping her gown over the top of the partition, “no one will be going anywhere without you. It’s your fiancé we’re looking for.”

¶I.

* * *

¶I.

“What’s taking them so long?” asked Llara, her face slightly tinted with concern.

¶I.

“Well, Llara, unlike you and Riley, some people actually like to sleep,” replied William, “I think we all pretty much assumed that we’d wake at dawn and then meet down here. If my room hadn’t been right next to yours, I’d probably just be getting up about now.”

¶I.

Riley smiled a bit, “We didn’t keep you awake, did we?”

¶I.

“I’d be willing to wager that the two of you kept the whole damned inn awake,” griped William with a raised eyebrow, “don’t either of you believe in sleeping?”

¶I.

“I think it’s safe to say we can order breakfast now,” said Llara, looking around at the other tables as the bar’s few occupants enjoyed their meals.

¶I.

“Thank Gods, I’m starving!” exclaimed William, inadvertently drawing the attention of half the room.

¶I.

Almost instantly, a scantily clad bar wench made her way to the table that seated William, Llara, and Rylen, one hand resting on her hip and the other holding a parchment as she awaited their order.

¶I.

“So, what’ll you be having?” she inquired, smiling sweetly at the hungry half-ogre.

¶I.

William thought for a moment as the waitress took her hand from her hip and pulled the quill from behind her right ear, “I’ll have ten griddlecakes,” said William, “with maple syrup, one glazed ham, six game hens, a dozen eggs, scrambled, eight biscuits with honey, a plate of skillet potatoes covered in gravy, four pieces of rye toast with raspberry jelly, and keep the coffee coming.”

¶I.

“Think you ordered enough?” Riley interjected sarcastically, as Llara and the waitress’s jaws dropped simultaneously.

¶I.

“You’d better add a couple of cube steaks to that, just to be safe,” William added.

¶I.

The somewhat dismayed bar wench smiled faintly, “I’m not even sure we have that much food at the dresser. It may take quite a while to get everything ready,” she said, quickly jotting down the order.

¶I.

William smiled proudly, leaning back in his chair as; “That’s quite alright. Just bring me whatever you do have. We don’t plan on being here very long.”

¶I.

“So William, where are Toren and Ri’Oric?” asked Llara, “Why didn’t they come downstairs with you?”

¶I.

“They left early. Said something about matters they needed to attend to.” said William.

¶I.

“I’ll have two eggs, fried, a slice of ham, and two griddlecakes with maple syrup,” said Riley, noticing that the waitress was still standing there, awaiting the other orders, “and also, I’ll have some coffee with cream.”

¶I.

“And you?” the waitress asked, turning her attention to Llara.

¶I.

“Oh, I’ll have an egg, scrambled, two pieces of rye toast with honey, sausage, and coffee with cream and sugar in it,” Llara instructed, “and be sure to cover the sausage in maple syrup.”

¶I.

“Alright, I’ll be back with that in a few minutes,” the waitress assured, “just don’t be angry if I forget anything.” she teased, smirking at William and narrowing her eyes at him facetiously before cavorting away toward the kitchen.

¶I.

William turned around in his chair to watch the faintly clad waitress’s rump shimmy back and forth as she walked away. Llara was about to comment to Riley about how ridiculous William looked, but was quite agitated when she saw that Riley was staring just as intently as William. Huffing angrily at her half-human boyfriend, Llara cleared her throat in order to retrieve Riley’s attention.

¶I.

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” Rylen apologized, slightly embarrassed.

¶I.

“Guess who’s here?!” a tiny, familiar voice declared.

¶I.

Tif hovered over the table, her body lit up like a lantern as she beat her wings. She landed square in the middle of the table, instantly plunking herself down and crossing her legs, making herself comfortable.

¶I.

“I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?” the candid little faery requested in a somewhat demanding tone.

¶I.

“We’ve already ordered, where are Jadia and Alyssandra?” asked Llara.

¶I.

“They’re coming down the stairs right now,” she said, pointing across the nearly-empty bar at the stairwell on the other side of the room, near the entryway. Sure enough, Alyssandra and Jadia were making their way down the stairs.

¶I.

Alyssandra came down first, wearing her black, hooded robe as usual. She was followed immediately by Jadia, wearing skin tight, black leather trousers with lace-up sides, black leather moccasins, a black leather collar around her neck with a buckle in the front, a pair of black leather fingerless elbow gauntlets with both buckles and laces, and a black leather over-bust bodice with a lace-up sides, fitted with two enormous cups in front to comfortably seat her copiously oversized breasts. Both women had their backpacks slung over their left shoulder as they stepped confidently off of the stairway and into the bar.

¶I.

Jadia swung her hips lavishly from side to side with each of her impudent strides, flinging her hair over one shoulder in the most audacious manner imaginable. Alyssandra, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly so brazen. Her skin seemed to hang from her bones as she attempted to mask her depression with a bravado of self-assurance. It was obvious that she was concerned about her fiancé, Lodin, but she’d been carrying on as usual; smiling, laughing, everything happy and normal and fine, but always on the verge of tears. Still, each step the vivacious Witch took proclaimed the stunning regality and splendor of her being.

¶I.

As the pair of women made their way toward the table, what few male patrons were present didn’t hesitate to stare, nor did they refraim from whistling at the beauties. Jadia soaked up every moment of it, whilst Alyssandra autonomously smiled her self-assured smirk.

¶I.

William couldn’t help but gawk at the exquisite young priestess as she walked across the nearly vacant bar, soft morning light radiating through the dusty old tavern windows accentuating her astonishing beauty. Even though the flowing black mantle she wore concealed much of her spectacular figure, the mere sight of her took William’s breath away. Alyssandra seemed to float toward the table as William gazed at her enchanting features. She could tell that William adored her, and she flashed him a little smile because of it. She loved Lodin more than anything else in the world, but William’s affections didn’t go completely unappreciated. She found him to be a most warm, caring man whom she had a great deal of respect and admiration for.

¶I.

“Don’t stare,” whispered Riley, leaning over toward William as Alyssandra and Jadia approached the table.

¶I.

William took in a deep breath and looked down at the table, as Alyssandra took her seat next to Llara. Jadia followed suit, sitting between Alyssandra and William. Both women set their backpacks onto the floor as they sat.

¶I.

Within moments, the waitress returned to the table.

¶I.

“We had the glazed ham and game hens ready, they’re being warmed up now. And the cook’s preparing…well, everything else,” she smiled, looking at William. “Would you three like anything?”

¶I.

“I’ll have three biscuits with lots of butter and maple syrup. Oh, and a mug of milk,” replied Jadia with a bright grin, “and that’s cow’s milk, of course.”

¶I.

“We don’t serve anything else…” the waitress assured.

¶I.

“I’ll just take some chopped vegetables, preferably steamed, and a glass of water sweetened with honey.” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“And you?” said the waitress, bending over to look at Tif in a most patronizing manner.

¶I.

“Um…uh…I think…um… I don’t know. I can’t decide.” Tif shrugged.

¶I.

“She’ll have a slice of strawberry and a thimble of cream,” Llara broke in, answering for the perplexed faery.

¶I.

Tif agreed with a nod, smiling up at the waitress.

¶I.

“Okay, that should be just a few minutes,” said the waitress, scampering back to the kitchen with her derriere wiggling back and forth behind her. Riley, William, and Jadia all watched intently.

¶I.

“So, where are Toren and Ri’Oric?” asked Alyssandra.

¶I.

“They had business,” answered Riley, matter-of-factly.

¶I.

Tif began to giggle, “What kind of business?”

¶I.

“Watch it, that’s my father you’re talking about,” Rylen threatened.

¶I.

Tif sighed, shrugging her shoulders as she sat in the middle of the table.

¶I.

“Honestly, what sort of business? We were supposed to rendezvous with them down here at sunrise. Didn’t you all stay in the same room?” inquired Alyssandra, looking to William for an answer.

¶I.

William scratched his head, “I dunno. They left early and said they had matters to attend to. They didn‘t tell me anything else.”

¶I.

Just then there was a thundering crash, as if something very large had been hurled against the hostelry’s door. Everyone immediately stood to their feet, shooting one another looks of fright and confusion. A second crash, then a third. The other tavern patrons began to panic, running to the other side of the room, near the bar’s entrance, and up the stairs. Presumably, they were fleeing to their rooms.

¶I.

“Our weapons!” Llara shouted, springing up from her seat and running to the staircase near the entrance.

¶I.

She reached a closet on the other side of the stairwell and attempted to open the door. William, Riley, Jadia, Alyssandra, and Tif caught up with her, waiting behind her as she struggled with the door.

¶I.

“I need the key!” Llara shouted.

¶I.

“No you don’t!” bellowed William, pushing Llara aside.

¶I.

The eight foot tall half-ogre pulled back his arm, tightly doubling his fist, and let his massive hand soar into the wooden laths. The door burst open, breaking into four or five large pieces and what must’ve been hundreds of shards of wood.

¶I.

On the other side of the door lay the weapons locker containing the armaments they‘d checked before entering the hostelry the night before. The group filed into the closet, each finding the weapons they’d come in with.

¶I.

William quickly located his warhammer and double-labris, ----

¶I.

Already wearing brigandine armor beneath her knee-length buckskin vest, Llara slipped a pair of wrist bracers on, then recovered her repeating crossbow, still in its holster. She lifted the holster by its strap and lowered it over her head, slipping one arm through it so that it fit comfortably under her right arm and over her left shoulder. She then grabbed a dozen or so gravity-fed box magazines containing the bolts for her crossbow, and clipped one magazine after another to her belt.

¶I.

Riley quickly located the quiver containing his short bow and arrows, the dagger Toren had given him as a child, as well as his falchion and bracers. He quickly strapped each bracer to his forearm with the enarms provided, sheathed the dagger and cutlass, and strapped the quiver to his back. Now armed, he went back out into the bar area.

¶I.

Jadia found her whip, her dagger, her two throwing knives, and scourge. She placed the throwing knives and dagger into their respective sheaths on her belt, to which she also clipped the scourge and whip. She then proceeded to slip her forearm through the buckler’s enarms, tightening them to make sure the small shield was fastened securely, and followed Riley out of the room.

¶I.

Alyssandra retrieved her staff, grasping it firmly in both hands as she spun around with a determined smirk. She hurried out of the room, ----

¶I.

Llara, Riley, Jadia, and Alyssandra stood behind William in the center of the main room. The cook and the waitress had barricaded the double-doors with a crossbar set into groves on either side of the doorway, and were now standing back with the others, each with a cleaver in hand.

¶I.

Another crash against the doors.

¶I.

Rylen reached behind his back and removed his bow and a single arrow from his quiver.

¶I.

Another crash against the doors.

¶I.

Llara reached behind her and pulled her repeating crossbow from its holster. Holding the crossbow in one hand, she reached down with the other and took a bolt magazine from her belt. She loaded it into her crossbow, then raised the cocking lever and pulled it back again, sliding the magazine into place, catching the string and pulling it back in the wooden recess. The crossbow was now cocked and ready to be fired.

¶I.

Another crash against the doors.

¶I.

Alyssandra tightened her grip on the staff and tensed her muscles.

¶I.

Another crash against the doors. Each beating taken by the doors threatened to devastate the crossbar as it splintered and caved inward more with each successive impact.

¶I.

William -------

¶I.

Another crash against the doors.

¶I.

Jadia -------

¶I.

Another crash against the doors. Everyone was alert, ready; with weapons drawn and teeth clenched they awaited whatever might be assailing the hostelry entrance.

¶I.

“Where’d Tif go?” Llara worried.

¶I.

“I’m right here!”

¶I.

An orb of light floated out from the weapons locker, flying erratically, bobbing up and down as it struggled to carry a hatchet.

¶I.

“Tif, that thing’s too heavy for you!” Llara warned.

¶I.

“No, I got it. It’s okay, really!” replied Tif, now hovering near Llara and Rylen.

¶I.

Another crash against the doors, and the massive wooden crossbar began to buckle under the stress.

¶I.

Suddenly, the crossbar gave way and the hostelry doors burst open.

¶I.

Four common orcs, six Slithards, and three Varanids filed into the bar. Two figures cloaked in flowing black mantles then entered, followed by a nine and a half foot tall ogre in dark paladin armor; a blackguard.

¶I.

The first orc carried a cudgel and small, round shield. The second orc was armed with a kite shield and broadsword. The third orc had a bastard sword with a small, round, spiked shield. The fourth orc was wearing a steel gorget and carrying glaive. The Slithards were each armed with a tiny tower shield and spear, while the Varanids carried much larger spears.

¶I.

The figures cloaked in black pulled their hoods down to reveal their porcelain white faces, blood red eyes, pitch black hair, and pointed ears. Darkelf. Each of them drew two hand-crossbows from their robes and began pointing them back and forth at Llara, Jadia, William, Rylen, and Alyssandra.

¶I.

The blackguard unsheathed his six-foot long great sword, his eyes narrowed and a confident smirk adorning his face.

¶I.

“We represent the Unseelie Court, high council of the New Sovereignty. The kingdom of Béowyn has been conquered in the name of the High Empress, Lilithena Dalael, and the Neutral Zone has been absolved,” said the blackguard.

¶I.

“We’re looking for a theif named Jadia Rowan,” said one of the Darkelf. He looked at Jadia, and quickly recognized her. “You fit her description perfectly. What’s your name, girl?”

¶I.

“My name,” said Jadia, “is get the hell out of my face.” She turned her gaze to the ogren blackguard and glared at him with a slight smirk, begging him to make his move.

¶I.

“It’s her,” the blackguard charged, “seize her!”

¶I.

One of the orcs rushed at Jadia.

¶I.

“Seize this,” Jadia declared, and piked her leg up into the air, kicking the orc in the jaw with enough force to spin him end-over-end. The orc hit the ground hard, but quickly clambered once again to his feet.

¶I.

No sooner did the orc spring back up than Llara managed to fire off a few bolts at him with her repeating crossbow. The orc screamed as one of the bolts struck his left eye.

¶I.

The other three orcs, the Slithards, and the Varanids then came at the group as the Darkelf fired all four of their bolts. Two of the crossbow bolts hit their own men, hitting one of the Varanids in the shoulder and striking one of the orcs in the back of the head. Another bolt hit William in the shoulder as he swung his warhammer, belting one of the Varanids in the chest and launching it across the room.

¶I.

Rylen managed to get a few shots off, one of them impaling an orc between the eyes, killing it instantly.

¶I.

Tif dropped her hatchet on one of the Darkelf’s heads, knocking him unconscious.

¶I.

William then swung his double-labris, decapitating an orc and slicing a Varanid in two as blood began splashing about the room, filling it with a tangy, metallic stench. Within a few moments, however, William found himself succumbing to the pokes and prods of three tiny yet vicious Slithards and a cudgel-wielding orc. He stepped on one of the Slithards, crushing its bones under his weight, but fell over when the Slithards’s attacks, and a few more blows to the ribs by the orc, became too much for him to bare. The bar shook as William toppled to the floor.

¶I.

Alyssandra attempted to fight off two Slithards, twirling her staff rapidly enough to deflect the strikes of their spears, only to be grabbed from behind a now one-eyed orc.

¶I.

The five remaining Slithards now focused their attention on Rylen. Three stabs to the thighs was all it took to bring him to his knees, at which point the tiny lizard-men began clubbing him with their spears, over and over again until he’d completely collapsed.

¶I.

One of the Varanids charged at Jadia as she dropped to the floor and delivered a sweep-kick, knocking the lizard-man’s feet out from under him. She then rolled back onto her shoulders and kicked her legs up into the air, springing back to her feet.

¶I.

Llara loaded another magazine into her repeating crossbow, but was too late. A Varanid and an orc each grabbed one of her arms, restraining her.

¶I.

Hoping to draw the attackers away from her friends, Jadia grabbed her backpack and ran past the blackguard in the confusion, out into the street, with Tif following closely behind her.

¶I.

“Enough!” the Ogren blackguard commanded. “We’ll have these six delivered to the dungeon in Grandshire this afternoon

Chapter 6
“The Catacombs”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

“Lodin, are you alright?” said Gail.

¶I.

Lodin sat up, brushing the dirt out of his long, black hair.

¶I.

“Yeah, I think so,” he replied. “Where’s my golem?”

¶I.

“I’m right behind thee, Master Lodin,” said Baelzathoth.

¶I.

Lodin stood to his feet slowly and shakily as his eyes regained focus.

¶I.

“Where are we?” he queried.

¶I.

“We fell through the floor. We’re in some kind of cavern under the Mortiferean Temple,” answered Gail. “You hit your head when we fell. You’ve been knocked out for a good couple of hours.”

¶I.

“Yeah… okay, I remember now. I must’ve hit my head pretty hard,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Well, you’re not bleeding, and you’re awake now, so you should be fine,” Gail said.

¶I.

“I don’t feel fine. I fell flat on my back. It’s a good thing I had a bedroll in my pack along with all that metal, or I probably would’ve broken it when I fell,” Lodin replied.

¶I.

“Your back or the metal?” Gail asked.

¶I.

“Both,” said Lodin with a slight smirk, “Are you and Baelzathoth alright?”

¶I.

“Yeah. We thieves always land on our feet. Your new golem has some dents in his armor now, though. He made a pretty good sized dent in the cavern floor, too,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Where’s the lantern?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“I’m not sure. I think I must’ve dropped it when that creature with the chains attacked us,” Gail answered. “Just wait for your eyes to focus more. With the little bit of light coming in from above now that it’s daytime, and the red glowing eyes of your new golem, it’s enough that we should be able to find our way around down here.”

¶I.

“I suppose,” replied Lodin, blinking rapidly as he waited for his eyes to finish adjusting. “Is that a tunnel?” Lodin asked, pointing straight ahead.

¶I.

“Yeah, and as near as I can tell, it’s our only chance at getting out of here. I just hope it doesn’t lead to a dead end,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Alright, let’s go then,” said Lodin, ambling toward the aperture in the cavern wall. Gail and Baelzathoth followed.

¶I.

As they walked toward the entrance of the warren, their shadows grew longer, extending into the seemingly infinite recesses of the abyss they were about to pervade. Further they crossed into the subterranean conduit, with nothing more than the rubescent glow of Baelzathoth’s eyes with which to see.

¶I.

“I have to say, for someone who’s never encountered vampyres or zombies or ghouls before, you handled last night very well,” Lodin commented.

¶I.

“I’ve seen my fair share of ghouls,” replied Gail.

¶I.

“Huh?”

¶I.

“I’ve encountered a few ghouls in my time,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Then why were you so afraid of the one we ran into last night?” Lodin inquired, “You screamed, you were nearly paralyzed with fear.”

¶I.

“I don’t care for spiders much either,” said Gail, “and ghouls are much larger and more frightening than spiders. What’s your point, Lodin?”

¶I.

“I suppose I don’t have one,” Lodin replied. “Still, you handled yourself well.”

¶I.

“Thank you. I almost feel silly for being so afraid of those vampyres and zombies. Neither one of those creatures would last more than a moment or two in a bar fight with an ogre or an Orc,” said Gail, “or even a sober dwarf, for that matter.”

¶I.

“Well you have to cut off their heads to kill them. So unless you have a sword, you’re out of luck. Besides, who ever heard of a sober dwarf?” Lodin joked.

¶I.

“Well I’m betting Orcs, ogres, and dwarves are all strong enough to pull the head off of a vampyre or zombie,” Gail replied.

¶I.

“An ogre or a dwarf could probably pull the head off of a zombie, if the thing was rotted away enough. I don’t know about vampyres though. Maybe an Orc could do it,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“I think any of them could. Your sword is battle-worn, and I still cut through a vampyre’s neck with it as though it were a linen cloth. If that’d been a human, I’d have had to hack at the neck several times just to get through the neck bones,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Actually, Gail, the swordsmiths of Hathor have a reputation for forging swords that can slice through meat and bone with great ease. They forge them out of adamant, a type of Celtiberian steel. Even after being a bit battle-worn, a sword from Hathor only needs a little muscle behind it to take off a limb or a head,” the paladin explained.

¶I.

“You’ll have to remind me to take a trip to Hathor the next time I decide to steal a sword,” Gail teased. “Have you ever gotten into a fight with an Orc?”

¶I.

“Two of them,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“What was the first time like?” Gail asked.

¶I.

“No, I didn’t get into a fight with an Orc twice, I got into a fight with two Orcs at once,” Lodin explained.

¶I.

“Oh, who won the fight?” she inquired.

¶I.

“I did, but only because the Orcs were too pissed to fight at their best,” said Lodin. “You’d probably fair well against a pair of Orcs though, even sober ones.”

¶I.

“What makes you say that?” Gail asked.

¶I.

“I saw the way you dodged that chain demon’s tendrils. You’re remarkably agile and light on your feet,” said Lodin, “I know you’re a thief, but those moves of yours put every thief I’ve ever seen to shame -- except for your sister, of course.” Lodin thought for a moment. “You have the speed and reflexes to easily take down an Orc or two, which is quite impressive considering how ... um ... large ... how you’re so...”

¶I.

“You mean how busty I am?” Gail interrupted.

¶I.

“Well, I was going to say something more along the lines of ‘top-heavy’ or ‘front-heavy’, but yes,” replied Lodin, “that’s where I was going with that. Most men would think that a woman of your proportions wouldn’t be able to keep her balance whilst standing still, let alone engaging in aerial maneuvers such as those you and Jadia seem so adept at demonstrating.”

¶I.

“My sister and I may be a bit ‘over-developed’ when it comes to our chests, but we’re extraordinarily nimble,” said Gail. “We must’ve inherited our limberness from Larissa.”

¶I.

“You’re certainly modest...” Lodin commented, his facetious sarcasm apparent by the slight chuckle in his voice.

¶I.

“Awareness of your virtues is a virtue in itself,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Well then, you and Jadia are the two most virtuous women I’ve ever met,” Lodin teased.

¶I.

“Thank you,” answered Gail, her flippant leer barely visible to Lodin in the darkness as she walked ahead of him. “Besides, you’d be surprised how effective a counterbalance a backpack full of jewelry can be.”

¶I.

The thief and the paladin continued negotiating the circuitous tunnel, the constant pounding of Baelzathoth’s feet and the subsequent trembling which always followed now only background noise.

¶I.

“You know,” said Gail, “Baelzathoth’s footsteps are shaking the tunnel terribly. I hadn’t even noticed until now, but he may cause a cave-in.”

¶I.

Lodin and Gail stopped, and turned around to look at Baelzathoth, who in turn stopped and stared down at them with his burning red eyes.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth!” Lodin shouted, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

¶I.

“Yes, Master Lodin?”

¶I.

“Could you possibly tread more softly?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“No, Master Lodin,” said Baelzathoth, has he began to walk once again.

¶I.

“Damned defiant golem...” Lodin muttered under his breath as he and Gail too resumed their course.

¶I.

Finally, the trio spotted what looked to be a light at the end of the passageway.

¶I.

Once they reached the end of the tunnel, they found themselves in a small cavern that contained within it a pool of water. Lodin, Gail, and Baelzathoth were standing at the edge of the pool, on a ridge that followed the cave wall.

¶I.

“It looks as though the light’s coming from down there,” said Gail, pointing into the pool. Lodin nodded in agreement. The light from the bottom of the pool refracted through the water, it’s radiance bouncing across the walls of the cave.

¶I.

“Well, shall we go for a swim then?” said Lodin.

¶I.

“What about your golem? He’ll sink like a stone,” said Gail.

¶I.

“He can walk along the bottom then,” Lodin responded.

¶I.

Gail shrugged her shoulders, then dove gracefully into the water, making hardly a splash to speak of, and began swimming toward the light near the bottom of the pool. Lodin followed, albeit not as gracefully. Baelzathoth stepped off of the edge of the ridge with a tremendous splash and, as predicted, sank quickly to the bottom of the pool.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail swam toward the light source, and noticed that it seemed to be emanating from a rather large aperture. Large enough, in fact, that Baelzathoth would have no problem traveling through it. As their eyes adjusted to the new light, it seemed it was not quite so brilliant as it had appeared from inside the cavern above them.

¶I.

Once Lodin and Gail had entered the aperture, they found themselves within yet another tunnel, yet this one was even more cavernous than the last.

¶I.

Within moments, they found themselves surrounded by what must’ve been thousands of tiny white fish with reddish eyes, swarming in every direction. Most of them were darting back and forth, gulping down tiny crayfish with transparent shells.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail could also see tiny fish with long, slender bodies and tiny newt-like legs scuttling about the cave floor and walls. These too were albinos.

¶I.

Then, there were larger fish. They very much resembled quippers, though like the smaller fish, they were completely white and possessed pink eyes. There were dozens of them, perhaps even hundreds. Truthfully, Lodin and Gail felt quite uneasy in the presence of so many albino piranhas.

¶I.

In the distance, they were able to make out a shape. Something moving. Something alive. It drew nearer and nearer. It was definitely a fish of some kind. Most of the smaller fish scattered, as did many of the quippers, and as it came ever closer to their position it became more obvious just how large it was. Soon, Lodin and Gail could see that it was a huge albino catfish -- easily the size of a bullshark.

¶I.

The catfish’s feelers lashed out in a manner not unlike the steely tendrils of the chain demon they’d fought less than a few hours prior. The feelers wrapped around Lodin’s arms and legs. The paladin grappled with the beast for a few moments, but the creature pulled Lodin in and clamped its jaws down on his body.

¶I.

Gail swam over to the enormous fish and slammed her buckler into its face, the spike at the small shield’s center impaling it through the eye. The catfish released Lodin and turned its jaws to Gail. Lodin, in response, unsheathed his sword and stabbed at the catfish, plunging his blade into its side. The catfish turned around once more, to attack Lodin yet again, as Gail unsheathed her sword and stabbed the monster in the gills.

¶I.

With a trail of blood, the catfish began to swim away, but it was quickly overcome by the cave quippers. The piranhas enveloped the beast completely, then scattered a few moments later. The monster’s skeleton sank harmlessly to the floor of the tunnel as the paladin and the thief kept swimming.

¶I.

After a few moments, Lodin and Gail realized that the light was now coming from above them. Such a sight came just in time, as Lodin and Gail were both struggling to hold their breath for just a few moments longer as they swam to the surface.

¶I.

They gasped for air as they breached the water, and then took a few moments to look around at their new surroundings.

¶I.

They were in a large chamber, which on the inside was decked with treasure. Coins of yellow gold, of platinum, of silver, of white gold, of bronze, of electrum, and of copper filled the cavern, as did jewelry of yellow and white gold, and of silver, and of platinum, bejeweled with rubies, diamonds, emeralds, blue and purple sapphires, and many more. Heaps of treasure were piled upon tables, and upon the ground. Goblets, statues, platters, and weaponry of immeasurable value were scattered throughout the room. So immense was the trove that it put even the tomb of Rha Kai Tan to shame. Hundreds of candles burned, lighting the cavern and reflecting off of the mountains of jewels and precious metals throughout the room. It was no wonder the light managed to shine through to the cavern on the other side of the watery tunnel.

¶I.

“Oh my Gods,” Gail breathed, “it’s incredible. It’s a shame my pack is already full. I really should’ve thought to bring another with me.”

¶I.

“This must be the lost treasure of Rha Kai Tan,” said Lodin. “The catacombs shouldn’t be far from here.”

¶I.

Lodin began swimming toward the edge of the pool, his feet able to touch the bottom of the water a few moments later. Gail eagerly followed after an instant of hesitation, and the two walked up out of the water together.

¶I.

Once out of the water, Lodin turned around to look for some sign of his new golem, but his attention was instead drawn to Gail’s white, linen bodice; it had become taut and diaphanous with moisture, allowing every color and contour of her implausibly hefty yet seemingly weightless bosoms to show through. Lodin stared for a moment at the awe-inspiring sight, his jaw hanging slightly ajar as he beheld Gail’s effectively naked breasts.

¶I.

“It’s going to take an eternity for this stuff to dry out,” said Gail, sheathing her longsword with one hand as she pulled one of the straps of her rucksack down from her bare shoulder with the other. She apparently hadn’t noticed Lodin staring at her chest, nor did she seem aware of how her movements were causing her immense frontal endowments to wobble back and forth, for all intents and purposes hypnotizing her paladin companion.

¶I.

Lodin looked on for another few moments, unable to take his eyes away from Gail’s chest as she unconsciously flaunted her excessively oversized titivations at him, until he saw something emerge from the water several yards behind her. It was Baelzathoth, walking out of the water and into the cavern, shaking the ground with each heavy step he took.

¶I.

Gail set her backpack on the cavern floor as Lodin began unfastening his so that he could do the same. She then loosed the belt of her satchel and lifted the strap over her head, removing it and setting it on the ground. Lodin and Gail both began ringing their hair out as Baelzathoth caught up to them, splashing them both with buckets of water as he took his last remaining steps out of the pool. The smoke pouring out of his eyes rose to the cavern’s ceiling, causing dozens of bats hanging from the stalactites above them to scatter, their chirps and squawks echoing throughout the chamber.

¶I.

“That’s peculiar,” said Lodin. “With all the bats in here, we should be knee-deep in guano.”

¶I.

“Who’s there?” an unfamiliar voice shouted from off in the distance.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail began hearing footsteps coming toward them. Light, shuffling footsteps.

¶I.

After a few moments, a tiny, withered old Darkelf stepped out from behind one of the mountains of treasure. His skin was wrinkled, and his physique was emaciated, nearly skeletal. His hair and goatee descended to his lower back and naval respectively, and were a dark, charcoal gray in color. His gate was shaky as he steadied himself with his large walking stick, and his tattered brown mantle dragged behind him along the cave floor.

¶I.

“My name’s Abigail Renee Rowan, daughter of Larissa Rowan and Aramyn Haran,” said Gail, holding her chin high as the bony old Darkelf stepped closer.

¶I.

“Haran? Llet an’tu el Ilythad noumil, in thoeren,” the leathery Dark Elf replied.

¶I.

“Nath,” said Gail, nodding her head, “It’s most certainly a Darkelf name.” Gail reached up and pinched one of her pointed ears, wiggling it slightly to draw attention to it.

¶I.

“Thou certainly don’t look Ilythad,” said the Darkelf, “Thy flesh is a bit too rich in color, thine eyes are blue, not red, and thine hair is far too light.” The Darkelf walked in circles around Gail, continuing to examine her. “Thou havest the svelte frame of a Darkelf woman...” he said, then around and began to mumble, “...un llit drau-mborad mbumili tu nina’n, ea llet tuin’mbumad rumil nila iss’u, enon’tua llisen llet tu Lla’Ilythil.” The Dark Elf then began trailing off even more inaudibly, “Non nethad Lla’Mannil iss’tua mbumili eti mborad, thu e rumil oli mbumad asi nina’n an’u....”

¶I.

“I heard that,” said Gail.

¶I.

The elderly Darkelf stopped and turned his gaze sharply to Gail.

¶I.

“Thou looketh more like a Nymph than one of we Ilythil!” the Darkelf sneered.

¶I.

“Well my birth-mother was human, a very exceptional human. I never met her, but my father told me she was once mistaken for a dryad and captured by poachers,” replied Gail.

¶I.

The Darkelf shook his head, “Fine, then if thou art truly a half-Darkelven, tell me what house thy father was from.”

¶I.

“The house of Dalael,” said Gail, narrowing her eyes at the wrinkled little Darkelf with a smug smirk upon her face.

¶I.

Lodin raised an eyebrow at Gail, then looked to the ancient Darkelf to see his eyes widen.

¶I.

“Bah! What proof havest thou?” the elderly Darkelf demanded.

¶I.

“I have no proof,” said Gail, “my father was a defector from the Unseelie Court.”

¶I.

“Then thou art no Darkelven at all, child,” said the Darkelf. “And what art thou doing with a human of all creatures?”

¶I.

“He’s my pet,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Mayhaps I misjudged thee,” said the dark elf. “Thou certainly lieth like a Darkelven.” The withered little dark elf then shuffled over to Baelzathoth, staring up at the massive iron golem. “It was the human who released the demon, Baelzathoth, from the amulet, and awakened the golem of Rha Kai Tan.”

¶I.

Lodin and Gail’s jaws dropped. Lodin then leaned over to Gail and whispered:

¶I.

“How did you know his name?”

¶I.

“I don’t know,” replied Gail, whispering back to Lodin, “it just came to me.”

¶I.

“The golem knew not the name of its demon spirit, but any Darkelf can sense a demon’s true name. Thou couldest not have thought of another,” said the Darkelf, walking away from the golem. “And thou, human, must have a heart of pitch to command the creature. Thou must truly be the incarnation of Rha Kai Tan, greatest of the blackguards.”

¶I.

Lodin unsheathed his longsword. “Bite your tongue, Darkelf, I’m a Paladin, a servant of Aradia, the Blessed Messiah.”

¶I.

The Darkelf simply chortled, “Thou thinkest so, but inside thee burns a fire of blackest flame, else Baelzathoth would have destroyed thee when thou awakened him.”

¶I.

“Whatever...” said Lodin, rolling his eyes. Lodin then felt something crawling up his leg. He looked down, only to see a scarab with a metallic-yellow shell ascending his thigh.

¶I.

Lodin jumped back with a girlish scream, brushing the scarab off of his leg.

¶I.

“That was a hoard scarab!” the paladin shouted.

¶I.

“Aye,” said the Darkelf, grinning brightly, “there be many a hoard scarab among these treasures. Swarms, in fact. Ye shouldn’t worry, though; they won’t harm you.”

¶I.

“And why’s that?” Gail queried.

¶I.

“The hoard scarabs are kept fed by the bats,” the Darkelf explained. “Ye’ll notice there isn’t a drop of guano in here.”

¶I.

As Lodin and Gail looked around the room, they found that there were hoard scarabs crawling all over the piles of gold coins, blending in almost perfectly due to their round shape and gold color.

¶I.

“How long have you been down here?” Lodin asked.

¶I.

“Since the death of Rha Kai Tan,” said the Darkelf.

¶I.

“So what’ve you been eating all this time?” said Lodin.

¶I.

“The hoard scarabs,” the Darkelf replied.

¶I.

“But why?” said Lodin. “Why stay down here all these years just to eat hoard scarabs?”

¶I.

“Because I hath been charged with guarding the first of the seven secret troves of Rha Kai Tan,” said the Darkelf.

¶I.

“Is there any way out of here, other than the way we came?” asked Gail.

¶I.

“Aye,” the Darkelf replied, pointing to a massive set of doors at the other end of the cavern, “through those doors ye’ll find passage out of these caves. Through the catacombs of the Centaurs that once dwelt in this valley.”

¶I.

“Let’s go,” said Lodin, as he picked up his backpack and began walking away, toward the doorway at the opposite end of the cavern. Gail followed. Baelzathoth was not far behind as his footfalls jostled the piles of gold coins.

¶I.

Once Lodin, Gail, and Baelzathoth made it to the other side of the cavern, the towering doors opened as if by magickal force, revealing the passageway out of Necropolis.

¶I.

“Remember, ye have been warned...” said the Darkelf.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail turned around sharply to see that the Darkelf was now standing right behind them.

¶I.

“Warned about what?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

The Darkelf gripped his staff, remaining perfectly still. He simply stared at Lodin blankly, blinking his eyes yet remaining otherwise motionless.

¶I.

“Warned about what?” Lodin repeated.

¶I.

The Darkelf didn’t move, nor did he say a word.

¶I.

“Warned about what?” asked Gail.

¶I.

Still the Darkelf simply stared at them, without moving or saying a thing.

¶I.

Lodin rolled his eyes and shook his head, then walked into the darkness of the catacombs. Gail did the same.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, come!” Lodin ordered.

¶I.

Baelzathoth complied, following Lodin and Gail through the entrance into the Centaurian catacombs.

¶I.

* * *

¶I.

As the trio descended deeper into the caves, the rubescent light from Baelzathoth’s eyes illuminated the tunnel with an intense red glow. The floor of the tunnel was tiled stones, and the walls and ceiling seemed to be comprised entirely of bones, arranged to form beams and buttresses to stabilize the passageway. Human-looking skulls, many of them with large, curving ram horns, adorned the walls, as did other Centaurian remains. It was truly an eerie sight to behold, to be surrounded on all sides by the remains of long-dead Centaurs, traveling down a warren that seemed to descend into eternity without end.

¶I.

“What’s that sound?” said Gail.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, stop…” said Lodin, as he calmly raised his hand.

¶I.

The trio stopped dead in their tracks.

¶I.

“It’s coming from up ahead, I think,” said Gail.

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

“I hear it too…” said Lodin.

¶I.

The sounds grew louder, echoing throughout the ancient passageway.

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

Lodin and Gail could see far enough ahead to make out a bend in the tunnel, twenty, perhaps twenty-five feet ahead of them.

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

Whatever it was that was making such a sound was just around the bend.

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

From around the corner, what looked to be the skeleton of a large, male centaur ambled toward them. It must’ve been at least nine feet in height. Its body was as the skeleton of a cloven-hoofed horse, its torso and skull the skeleton of a man, yet with massive spiraling horns similar in shape to that of a satyr or a ram. Its long, cat-like tail whipped back and forth behind it as it hobbled shakily toward the trio, its bones rattling and jarring together as its hooves clicked and clacked upon the catacomb floor.

¶I.

Lodin tightened his grip on the hilt of his longsword, brandishing it menacingly before him as the Centaurian lyke approached. Gail unsheathed her blade, shielding herself with her spiked buckler as she did so, readying herself for the attack.

¶I.

Just then, moaning of twisting metal echoed throughout the tunnel, broken by banging and popping. So deafening was the sound that Lodin’s attention was drawn away from the Centaurian lyke, and he was forced to look behind him.

¶I.

Lodin’s newly acquired golem, Baelzathoth, though his glowing red eyes emitted as intense a radiance as ever, was becoming shrouded in darkness. The thick crimson smoke pouring forth from the iron golem’s eye sockets was traveling downward over its body, enveloping the massive creature. Within moments, the fifteen foot tall, eight-foot wide metal monstrosity had become a huge, roughly human-shaped cloud of smoke with burning red eyes.

¶I.

Gail had turned around to see this as well, and even the Centaurian lyke was taken aback by the sight as the cloud of smoke began to change shape. Fluidly, smoothly, the shadowy mass altered its dimensions until it appeared almost...

¶I.

...almost equine.

¶I.

In an eruption of flames, the smoke dissipated, leaving in its wake a gigantic metal nightmare. Seven feet tall at the shoulder, with a mane of fire and a tale of red-hot flame, stood an immense, mechanical-looking horse with Baelzathoth’s same burning red eyes, a creature with literal skin of iron.

¶I.

It appeared that this golem was not only imbued with life by a demonic spirit, but was also a shapeshifter. The level of dark magick involved in creating such a beast must’ve been an astronomical undertaking, one that must’ve required the cooperative effort of every black mage and warlock living at the time of Rha Kai Tan’s evil reign. And while such a thought was enough to send chills of horror down Gail’s spine, the prospect of being in command of such a powerful creature was exciting the young paladin, Kha Lo Din, to an extent that he himself could never have anticipated.

¶I.

Lodin smirked, and his eyes narrowed smugly.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth!” Lodin cried. “Burn the lyke!”

¶I.

The flames that comprised Baelzathoth’s mane grew higher, and his eyes burned brighter. With a deep, raspy, demonic nay the iron nightmare reared its head back, opened its mouth, and spit forth an erupting wall of fire, streaming from its throat not in any manner unlike the breath of a red dragon as it sped past Lodin and Gail.

¶I.

The Centaurian lyke turned and attempted to gallop away, but was overtaken by the fire. The lyke was incinerated almost instantly. The iron nightmare’s fiery breath ceased. Baelzathoth snorted, causing tiny flames to burst from his nostrils.

¶I.

Gail’s sense of horror subsided, as she, like Lodin, was overcome by a sense of invincibility.

¶I.

“Lodin, he’s a shapeshifter!” Gail exclaimed with the brightest, most joyous of grins, not even concerning herself with the fact that she’d just stated something that was already bludgeoningly obvious.

¶I.

“I wonder,” Lodin said calmly, still with an air of smug contentment swathing his face, as he began to examine the creature, being careful not to touch his mane nor move to close to his tail, “if the golem itself was designed to be a shapeshifter, or if the demon inside it, Baelzathoth, has the power to take other forms?”

¶I.

“I wouldn’t know,” said Gail, “but we should get moving. The smoke’s building up in here and if we stay still too long I’m afraid we might find ourselves without any air to breathe.”

¶I.

“Let’s go then,” replied Lodin.

¶I.

Lodin, Gail, and Baelzathoth began walking once more, deeper still into the catacombs.

¶I.

“So, you’re from the House of Daelal?” Lodin inquired.

¶I.

“Yes,” said Gail.

¶I.

“The House of Daelal?” said Lodin. “As in Lilithena Daelal, High Empress of the Unseelie Court?”

¶I.

“The same,” Gail responded.

¶I.

“The same House of Illyrium that’s the head of all the Darkelf Houses, all the Leprechaun Families, all the Cluricaun Sects, all the Batling Sidhes, all the Siren Covens, and all the Redcap Tribes?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Yes, my father once held a seat on the Unseelie Court,” said Gail, “but he defected. I’m surprised Jadia never told you, seeing that Aramyn was Kyra’s father as well.”

¶I.

“Are you sure Jadia knew who Aramyn was before she met you?” said Lodin. “Her mother might never have told her.”

¶I.

“Actually,” said Gail, “now that I think of it, Jadia didn’t have any idea who Aramyn was. All she knew was that Kyra’s father was just some Darkelf, and that he was a defector of the Unseelie Court. She didn’t know what his name was until I told her.”

¶I.

“Alright, so how did you get the last name ‘Rowan’?” asked Lodin. “I understand that Kyra was conceived by this Aramyn fellow, but she was born after your mother had been handfasted to Isaac Rowan. And I assume Larissa went back to Aramyn for a time, probably at least a year, and had you without Isaac’s knowledge, which means she would’ve probably left you behind to be raised by Aramyn.”

¶I.

“Right,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Do you know why Larissa went back to Aramyn?” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Well,” replied Gail, “my father told me it was because when the Unseelie Court tried to take control of the Kingdom of Faelore and the Faelore-Béowyn War started, she was exiled from Béowyn because she looked so similar to dryad. She had nowhere to go, and found my father up in Arlianor. But when the Unseelie Court finally took control of Faelore, the Kingdom of Béowyn started allowing refugees to cross the boarder out of mercy. A few months later, she decided to return home to Béowyn to be with her other two daughters. For some reason, she never told my father about Isaac or Kyra or Jadia. Instead, she told him that she’d miscarried the child she conceived by him and was taken in by a family in Graelark, which is why she stayed in Béowyn. I ran into my father about six weeks ago up in Leighton, and I was going to tell him about Kyra, and tell him about Isaac and Jadia as well, but it turns out Jadia’s father had already found him and filled him in.”

¶I.

“That’s a fairly complicated story,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“We live in fairly complicated times, Lodin,” Gail returned.

¶I.

“You still haven’t explained how you came by the last name ‘Rowan’ rather than ‘Haran’,” Lodin reminded the thief.

¶I.

“It’s simple,” said Gail. “Larissa told my father that she’d been taken in by a family and adopted the surname ‘Rowan’, and insisted that I carry the same surname.”

¶I.

“I never knew any of this about Larissa,” said Lodin. “It seems she spent a great deal of her life caught between two webs of lies.” Gail nodded. “I’m glad I never knew her. I had an Elven mother who loved me very much, who I wouldn’t have traded for anything in Gaia, especially not some adulterous human. I mean she didn’t even have the courage to tell my father that she’d found a new love in Béowyn, and that he was raising my father’s blood daughter, or that she’d had another child. When she was exiled to Faelore, she just conjured up some horse-shit story about being taken in after she was captured by those poachers, she told him she’d lost the child that should’ve been his, and she just resumed her life as though it were all true. Then when the war ended two years later and she’d already given birth to me, she just abandoned me and went back to Graelark to be with Isaac.”

¶I.

“Larissa was a good woman, I don’t know why she would do all of that,” said Lodin. “I would imagine she was just confused and frightened. I was only three years old when the Faelore-Béowyn War started, and I was only five when it ended, so I don’t really remember what it was like back in those days. She could’ve very well thought that she would never be able to return to Béowyn, and was afraid to tell your father about the life she’d been living there because she thought if he felt betrayed she’d have nowhere to turn. And as far as abandoning you when the war ended; she already had two other daughters to think about.”

¶I.

“So that’s it then?” Gail snapped. “It was just a matter of weighing the two daughters she’d been raising with Isaac and the daughter she was raising with my father? Just a matter of choosing the two over the one?”

¶I.

“Well, what would you have done?” said Lodin. “I know it sounds awfully calculative and not very, well, ‘loving’, but if you have three children that you love equally, and you have the choice between abandoning either one of them or two of them, what other option is there? I’d think it would be a simple choice, but that doesn’t mean it would be an easy thing to do. I’d imagine it probably broke Larissa’s heart to leave you behind, and when Kyra disappeared, she probably felt as though Jadia was all she had left.”

¶I.

“Then why is it,” replied Gail, “that she and Isaac and Jadia never gave up searching for Kyra, and yet she never sought me out after she left my father?”

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

Another Centaurian lyke walked into the light being cast by the iron nightmare’s mane of fire, this one brandishing a badly tarnished and rusted bronze long-shield, and an equally time-ravaged bronze kopesh that was at least five feet in length.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, burn it...” Lodin instructed the shapeshifting golem. “She probably knew you were safe,” said Lodin, raising his voice to be heard over the roar of flames being spewed forth by Baelzathoth. “She probably trusted Aramyn to raise you well and protect you, and probably knew that he’d find another love who’d bring you up as though you were her own. Larissa was the sort of woman to have faith in people.”

¶I.

“Well what I don’t understand,” said Gail, as she and Lodin stepped over the pieces of burnt sword and shield left by the Centaurian lyke that Baelzathoth had just disposed of, “is why she stayed with Isaac at all.”

¶I.

“Probably because she had just been captured by poachers who mistook her for a Dryad,” said Lodin, “which would be traumatic enough of an experience for any Human, although it’s understandable considering how much she looked like a Dryad and how little she looked like other humans, regardless of her round ears, but Isaac bought her freedom on the black market. He saved her from being sold as a sex slave. And she was with child at the time, albeit probably only a month or so along in the pregnancy, and clung to the man who’d saved her, to a man who promised to take care of her and Kyra, and who promised to raise Kyra like his own flesh and blood daughter once she was born. I’m sure she still loved your father, but Isaac was her savior.”

¶I.

“You sound just like Jadia,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Well I think your sister is right,” replied Lodin. “Jadia and I both actually knew Larissa, you didn’t. As much as it shocks me to think of her living a double life in her younger years, I know in my heart that she’d never have done those things out of malice or even apathy, but only out of desperation and fear.”

¶I.

“Desperation and fear are just excuses people use for malicious actions and apathetic behavior,” said Gail. “I would know, being a thief.”

¶I.

“You’re also a Darkelven,” said Lodin, “and you sound just like one at the moment. Jadia stole to survive, to provide a life for herself and to help feed her mother and father. Now I haven’t seen Jadia in over a year, and I feel sort of bad for not immediately recognizing you as being her sister, considering how much the two of you look alike, but the two of you don’t seem to have much in common when it comes to your hearts.”

¶I.

“How dare you, Paladin,” Gail charged, “presume to know anything of my heart.”

¶I.

“I’m sorry, that was unfair of me. But I do know something of Jadia’s heart,” replied Lodin, “I know that she only stole from the rich, from those who flaunted their wealth in front of people who could scarcely afford to eat everyday. True she took more than what she needed, but never more than what those she stole from could afford to lose, and she used what she took to take care of her family and her friends. She may have been a thief, but she had morals and integrity. It was wrong of me to assume any less of you, but your statement just now caught me off guard, and I truly am sorry.”

¶I.

“Wow, a Paladin defending a thief...” said Gail, “You surprise me.”

¶I.

“I’m a defender of the faith,” said Lodin, “and my faith teaches that Aradia took pity on the thieves, because she knew that the majority of them were victims of a cruel society in which the wealthy oppressed the poor. She recognized the fact that the clean, nicely dressed, successful folks with their pearly white teeth who appear to work so hard are often the most despicable people of all behind closed doors, and that some of the most generous, loyal, caring people you’ll ever meet are those who have had to struggle to survive, who’ve at one point or another resorted to living outside of the law; people who might wear tattered clothing, who smell, who are missing teeth, or who steal in order to survive. Whereas most people assume the clean-cut folks are the decent and honorable ones, Aradia knew the truth; she knew that there was more honor amongst the thieves, the vandals, and the assassins, than amongst all of the beautiful people, business men, soldiers, and officers of the court, combined. Aradia not only knew this, but she taught it, and lived by it, and it disgusts me that so many Witches and Paladins have forgotten this today.”

¶I.

“You’re certainly passionate,” said Gail. “So why be a part of it? The Aradian priests and priestesses of today don’t behave like the Witches of Aradia’s time. They’re nobles now. Why be a minion for a system that oppresses the poor?”

¶I.

“When the kingdom of Béowyn was founded over eight thousand years ago,” Lodin began, “King Béowyn himself recognized the need for balance within a society. He established a theocratic branch of the government, of Witches and paladins to defend the poor and keep the monarchy in check, because he feared his descendants would do as many other monarchs have and use their power to oppress the poor. My father, who’s now an elder paladin, taught me that it’s a greater crime to let a family starve than it is to steal from those with excess wealth, and like my father I’d sooner cut a rich man’s throat for depriving his fellow citizens of that which he can afford to give than imprison a poor man who’s stealing for his own survival. That’s where the paladins of the Aradian faith differ from the knights and soldiers of the sovereignty, or the officers of the court. We defend the poor and the oppressed, whilst they defend the rich oppressors.”

¶I.

“Then it’s no wonder my mother, or rather my stepmother, always taught me to trust paladins and Witches,” said Gail. “Tell me, though, why is it you seem to defend the kingdom of Béowyn for having both defenders of the rich and defenders of the poor?”

¶I.

“Because,” said Lodin, “not all thieves have honor. It seems that somewhere along the line, some people began to see thievery itself as a virtue, rather than as the last resort of those who may otherwise be virtuous. Children run away from home and join thieves’ guilds, and grow up caring not who they steal from or for what cause, caring only for the thrill of the acquisition. There are also those in society who steal only because it’s easier than working and earning a legitimate living, not because they need to in order to survive, or because they’ve made an honest effort to find work and have been unsuccessful. Thieves of that sort have no honor, and are no better than the rich who would oppress the poor. Aside from which, while those who amass their wealth through hard work and yet decline to use what they’ve acquired to help those who have not been as fortunate as they, are certainly scoundrels, they are lesser scoundrels, in my belief, than those who behave in the same manner yet have amassed their wealth by taking from others.”

¶I.

“It sounds as though you have everything figured out,” said Gail.

¶I.

“No,” replied Lodin, “but I do have my beliefs. Those beliefs may certainly be wrong, but in the end, beliefs are all anyone really has.”

¶I.

“I suppose so,” Gail reluctantly agreed.

¶I.

Lodin halted. Baelzathoth stopped behind him. Gail then stopped as well and turned around to look at Lodin.

¶I.

“Have you gotten us lost?” said Gail, accusingly.

¶I.

“Excuse me?” Lodin shot back. “Do you have a map of the catacombs? Do either of us have even the slightest idea where we’re going?”

¶I.

“Well no, but perhaps if you hadn’t been talking so much we’d be out of here by now,” said Gail. “We must’ve passed a dozen side tunnels by now and gone down three or four different forks without even thinking about which turn we should take.”

¶I.

“What else should we have been doing?” replied Lodin.

¶I.

“You seemed to know we were nearing the catacombs while we were in that treasury,” said Gail, “which you identified as the secret store of Rha Kai Tan. I thought perhaps you had a vague idea of where to go.”

¶I.

“No, like I said, neither of us have any idea where we need to go,” Lodin reiterated. “We don’t have maps. That old Darkelf never even gave us any directions other than ‘ye have been warned’. We just have to keep going until we find a way out.”

¶I.

“That could take days,” said Gail. “Besides, if you’ve no idea where you’re going, why’d you suddenly stop like that?”

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

“I had a feeling,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Your golem will take care of that just as easily as the last two,” said Gail.

¶I.

“No, listen,” said Lodin.

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

“It sounds like there’s more than one of them,” Gail responded.

¶I.

Click, clack, click, clack, click, clack...

¶I.

“A lot more,” replied Lodin.

¶I.

A Centaurian lyke appeared, armed with the same sort of bronze long-shield and kopesh as the last. Another Centaurian lyke appeared, similarly armed, though this one wore a bronze phylax on its chest and bronze greaves on its forelegs. Then another Centaurian lyke appeared, armored with a bronze phylax and carrying a kopesh, yet without the long-shield or greaves. Yet another Centaurian lyke came into the light being cast by Baelzathoth’s mane, this one armored with a phylax and grieves, but carrying a bronze trident rather than a shield or sword. Still another Centaurian lyke came into view, this one shielded with a long-shield, greaves, and phylax, but cracking a long leather whip as it marched in step with the others. More Centaurian lykees appeared, and kept appearing, each with some combination of the armaments carried by the first five.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth!” Lodin cried. “Do something!”

¶I.

Lodin and Gail looked behind them to see that Baelzathoth was once again transforming. His iron skin moaned and popped as the vaporous, almost nigrescent glow of crimson smoke overtook his body once again, and again all that could be seen of Baelzathoth was a black cloud with glowing red eyes. The tunnel grew dimmer as Baelzathoth’s form changed; at first it looked as though he were changing back to his original form, but then something else was happening. The golem was growing larger, so large that it could scarcely fit under the capacious tunnel’s twenty-five foot high ceiling.

¶I.

The smoke dissipated, and an intense glow of red, orange, and yellow began to emanate from the joints within the golem’s armor. It looked much like its original form, although its sabatons had become a massive pair of cloven-hoofed greaves that extended down below the shynbalds, its still skull-like head had grown a massive pair of iron horns not unlike those possessed by the Centaurian lykees, only much larger in proportion to its head; its jaw had grown larger, and its teeth had become like daggers. A gigantic pair of iron, bat-like wings had also appeared on Baelzathoth’s back, and a long, thin, but otherwise reptilian tail had appeared. The golem was so massive now that it had to remain hunched over in the tunnel, its wings nearly pressing against the bony catacomb walls.

¶I.

The glow coming from the joints in Baelzathoth’s armor then erupted into flame. A fiery inferno overtook the iron golem, turning the intense red glow of his eyes as black as pitch by comparison. Baelzathoth let out a demonic roar as smoke began to fill the tunnel, and the brigade of Centaurian lykees turned to run away.

¶I.

Within the palm of his hand Baelzathoth conjured a ball of fire, drew back, and threw the flaming orb at the Centaurian lykees as they ran. It exploded as it hit one of the galloping skeletons, completely incinerating it, while charring and dismembering the lykees around it. Baelzathoth kept hurling fireball after fireball until the entirety of the Centaurian lyke brigade had been reduced to ash.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail began to cough, finding it difficult to breathe as the tunnel filled with thick, black smoke. It was then that the smoke began drawing back to Baelzathoth and the flames emanating from the joints in his armor died down. Baelzathoth was once again consumed by the shadowy vapor, and mutated from an iron-skinned fire demon back to his original form.

¶I.

“C’mon, let’s keep moving,” said Gail, still coughing slightly as she stumbled forward through the tunnel. Lodin followed, as did Baelzathoth.

Chapter 7
“Redoubt”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

The sun shone brightly in the unseasonably blue autumn sky. Just outside of Talenburg, a group of Orcs and Varanids lead by the Ogren Blackguard was escorting a horse-drawn cart up the hillside.

¶I.

Upon the flat surface of the cart were two iron cages, each carrying two prisoners, and one large wooden crate. The first cage held the half-Ogre, William Huxley, the Human cook, and the half-Elf, Rylen Llyraeus. The second cage held the Wood Elf, Llaralynn Harnram, and the Humans, Alyssandra Foxley and the bar wench. The crate held William’s Ogren warhammer and double-headed war axe, Rylen’s composite short bow, Alyssandra’s staff, Llaralynn’s repeating crossbow and bolt magazines, and even her buckskin vest with the brigandine lining.

¶I.

“Well, so much for finding Lodin,” said Rylen, sitting on the grated floor of the cage with his back against the bars, bleeding somewhat heavily.

¶I.

“I can’t believe we’re being sent to Grandshire,” said Alyssandra. “That’s almost a week’s travel on foot, and in the wrong direction.”

¶I.

“Don’t worry,” said William, “we’ll get out of this.” The half-Ogre was bleeding from the assault in the hostelry, though not as badly as Rylen. His eight foot tall, four hundred pound build was capable of sustaining quite a bit more injury than Rylen’s frail little half-Elven body.

¶I.

“If only we sill had our weapons,” said Llaralynn, squeezing the bars of the cage as she looked out at the crate. Llaralynn reckoned that their weapons were probably being taken with them to Grandshire to be used as evidence of the ‘crimes’ they committed against the Unseelie Court back in the hostelry.

¶I.

The cart slowed to a halt.

¶I.

“What’s happening?” said Rylen, standing shakily to his feet.

¶I.

“Alright!” shouted Mortis Necron, the Ogren Blackguard. “Everyone clear the area!”

¶I.

Mortis began walking away from the cart, as did the Orcs and Varanids, back toward town. Rylen, William, Llaralynn, and Alyssandra were now left at the top of the grassy hill, completely alone.

¶I.

“Why’d they leave?” said Llara. “I thought they were taking us to Grandshire?”

¶I.

“That’s why!” said William, pointing up in the air.

¶I.

In the distance, Llaralynn saw with her sharp Elven eyes that a large black drake, mounted by a Darkelf dragonrider, was coming straight for them at an alarming speed, with two more just behind it.

“I think it’s a black drake,” said William.

¶I.

The first black drake swooped down, grabbed the iron cage containing William and Riley, and flew off again; beating its tattered, charcoal wings hard enough to blow Llaralynn and Alyssandra back against the other side of the cage. The next black drake screeched as it dove toward the second cage, captured the iron enclosure with its tremendous, scaly black paws, and took off toward Grandshire, trailing the dragon before it. Alyssandra and Llaralynn then watched from the air as the third Black Dragon grabbed up the crate that held their weapons.

¶I.

The black drakes continued to flap their immense, ragged wings as they climbed higher and higher into the sky. They flew so fast, rising so quickly that within moments they’d breached the clouds. The drakes leveled off, soaring just above the milky white vapor of the clouds beneath them.

¶I.

“Are you alright?” asked Llara.

¶I.

“What?” replied Alyssandra.

¶I.

“I said, ‘Are you alright?’” Llara shouted.

¶I.

“I can’t hear you!” Alyssandra shouted back. Alyssandra opened her mouth as though yawning and wiggled her jaw around a bit, attempting to pop her ears.

¶I.

“Can you hear me now?” said Llaralynn.

¶I.

“Yeah, I can hear you,” the Witch answered.

¶I.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Llaralynn inquired.

¶I.

“Dragonriders,” said Alyssandra. “I overheard a dragonrider explaining it to a friend in a bar once. Said something about having to pop your ears if you make a really quick ascent.”

¶I.

The tavern wench, not knowing what Alyssandra had done but noticing nonetheless that it appeared her and Llaralynn were now able to hear each other, instinctively imitated the Witch’s movements. Sure enough, she was able to hear within a few moments.

¶I.

The waitress then spoke up. “Could either of you answer a question for me?”

¶I.

“We can try,” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“How is it that Darkelves can be dragonriders? Or for that matter, what are Darkelf balisters doing walking around in broad daylight? I thought sunlight hurt the Darkelves.”

¶I.

“The Darkelves generally despise sunlight,” said Alyssandra, “but it isn’t as painful for them as you’d think by the way they usually avoid it. Their keen Elven vision fails them in the daylight -- it makes them as nearsighted as the average Human, if not even more so. Though I doubt you’ll ever have the chance to spot one at a close enough range for your Human eyes to tell, if you had the vision of an Elf, like Llaralynn here, you’d notice that Darkelf dragonriders wear shades to shield their eyes from the sun.”

¶I.

“Shades?” the wench asked.

¶I.

Llaralynn nodded. “Stained spectacles, dark enough to dim the bright sunlight but not so dark that you can’t see through them.”

¶I.

“What’s your name, anyway?” the Priestess asked.

¶I.

“Kirsten,” said the bar wench. “Kirsten Ericsson.”

¶I.

Suddenly a stream of fire blazed past the cage. Alyssandra, Llaralynn, and Kirsten looked around, attempting to pinpoint the source of the fire, as it didn’t appear to have come from either of the other two black drakes.

¶I.

“Look, over there!” exclaimed Llaralynn, pointing to a green drake swooping down from above, barreling down on the black drake’s port-stern.

¶I.

“I see it,” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

The green drake came up quickly behind the black drake’s tail, and maneuvered itself into a flanking position. The dragon lowered itself a bit so that the dragonrider was level with the cage.

¶I.

“Do you and your friends up there need some help?” the Human dragonrider shouted, as two more green drakes appeared in the distance behind them.

¶I.

“No, we put ourselves in these cages and then hired Darkelves to kidnap us with black drakes!” Alyssandra shouted back.

¶I.

The green drake then banked hard to port, disappearing into the clouds below. The two green drakes behind them banked starboard, diving down into the clouds like the first.

¶I.

“I didn’t honestly think he’d take me seriously,” said Alyssandra, her face rife with utter astonishment as she turned around to look at Llaralynn and Kirsten.

¶I.

The cage shook hard, jostling Llaralynn, Alyssandra, and Kirsten, and then shook again, tossing them against the side of the cage.

¶I.

“What’s doing that?” Llaralynn screamed.

¶I.

All three women looked above them to find that the black drake was flying somewhat unsteadily now, but couldn’t see any apparent cause for the turbulence they were experiencing. Unexpectedly, the black drake was hit with fire as it shrieked in pain, and the three women suddenly found themselves plummeting down into the clouds, trapped within the iron imprisonment.

¶I.

Llaralynn, Kirsten, and Alyssandra gripped the bars of the enclosure as tightly as they could, their innards feeling positively weightless as they fell. This was to last only a moment, however, before they were slammed against the bottom of the cage.

¶I.

“We stopped falling!” cried Alyssandra, climbing to her feet and rubbing her head where she’d just banged it against the bars.

¶I.

“Really, you don’t say...” said Llaralynn, climbing to her feet as well.

¶I.

Below them, they could see the black drake spiraling toward the ground. They looked up to see the leathery yellow underbelly of a green drake soaring just below the clouds. It appeared they’d just been rescued.

¶I.

The green drake changed course slightly. As it did this, Llaralynn and Alyssandra looked back for any sign that William or Rylen had been rescued by one of the other two green drakes.

¶I.

A green drake came down out of the clouds, but was falling quickly toward the ground.

¶I.

Another green drake appeared, carrying neither crate nor cage; moments later its wing was hit by a ball of flame that came from the clouds above it, and with a hole in its wing, the creature fell like a stone.

¶I.

“It looks as if Riley and William aren’t going to be rescued...” said Llaralynn, watching the two green drakes plummet toward the ground.

¶I.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” asked Alyssandra. “Do you think they’ll be able to escape after they’re taken to the dungeon in Grandshire?”

¶I.

“Well,” said Llaralynn, “my Riley may only be a half-Elf, but he’s stealthy and quick, a skilled thief and lock-pick who I’ve no doubt can sneak his way out of any dungeon. Will’s as strong as an oliphaunt, so powerful sometimes it seems he’s made of solid granite, and in a fair fight could probably best any foe they’d encounter.”

¶I.

Alyssandra laughed a bit, “Riley once got his hand stuck in someone’s coat while he was trying to pick his pocket, and you can hear Will breathing from a mile away,” she said, unable to hide the worry in her voice. “Let’s just pray that the Gods be with them, and that they manage to get out of this just like all those other times they tripped and stumbled their way out of trouble.”

¶I.

“It’s a shame Lodin isn’t with them,” said Llaralynn. “Those three could always trip and stumble their way out of any mess they’d gotten into. Lodin was an expert at it. He’s a legend in half the towns in Béowyn because of it.”

¶I.

“I hope we can find him,” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“So do I,” said Llaralynn, “but first we need to get to Will and Riley. There’s no way we’ll be able to make it through Faelore on our own. Wherever this dragonrider’s taking us, we need start making our way to Grandshire as soon as we land.”

¶I.

Alyssandra nodded her head in agreement as they began to descend. Looking to the ground ahead of them, they could see the fortress city of Krendor. The green drake that carried them ceased to flap its wings, maneuvering them so as to slow its descent as they neared the borough.

¶I.

“What do you see down there?” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“Paladins,” replied Llaralynn, “loads of them.”

¶I.

With its wings titled so as to be nearly perpendicular with its body and angle of descent, the green drake managed to slow itself considerably as it came down upon city.

¶I.

“The Paladins must’ve fended off the armies of the New Sovereignty,” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“So far, at least,” replied Llara, “Else that Ogre was lying when he proclaimed that this ‘New Sovereignty’ of his had overtaken Béowyn and absolved the Neutral Zone. Although this cage we’re in somewhat negates that theory.”

¶I.

“Somewhat,” agreed Alyssandra, feigning a grin as Llaralynn smirked back at her.

¶I.

Moments later, Llaralynn, Alyssandra, and Kirsten found themselves descending upon the city center. As they finally neared the ground, the green drake began backflapping its enormous wings, creating a truly ferocious wind as it set the cage gently upon the ground, and then set itself down just alongside it.

¶I.

The dragonrider dismounted the green drake, sliding down from the creature’s shoulders as many a Paladin soon surrounded the area.

¶I.

“We found these two being carried by away from Talenburg by Darkelf Dragonriders, probably to Grandshire,” said the Human dragonrider, as one of the Paladins approached him.

¶I.

“And what of Orvyn and Frang?” asked the Paladin.

¶I.

“Their dragons went down, and I didn’t see any parachutes open,” the Dragonrider explained.

¶I.

Llaralynn turned to Alyssandra, “What’s a parachute?” she said quietly.

¶I.

“I’m not entirely sure,” the Witch answered. “If memory serves, it’s something like a big piece of cloth stuffed inside a rucksack. When a dragonrider finds himself falling, he pulls a cord, which deploys the parachute from his pack, and that catches the air on his way down. It makes him float to the ground like a feather, or at least that’s my understanding of it.”

¶I.

Llaralynn raised an eyebrow at Alyssandra, then shook her head slightly. “Must be some sort of Gnomish invention....”

¶I.

Alyssandra shrugged, “Those Gnomish Tinkerers think of everything.”

¶I.

“Have Woden, Bodil, or Ordway returned yet?” the dragonrider asked the Paladin.

¶I.

“Yes, they returned just under an hour ago,” the Paladin replied. “Fynn and Cullen are due back any time now.”

¶I.

Llara knocked on one of the cage’s iron bars, catching the attention of both men. “Just out of curiosity, when were you planning to let us out of this cage?”

¶I.

“Ivor,” the dragonrider shouted, looking around at the crowd, “come get this cage open!”

¶I.

A squat, stocky Dwarf lumbered out of the crowd of Paladins, carrying a large, steel battle-axe. His braided red beard dangled back and forth as he stomped determinately to the cage, lifted the battle-axe above his head, and brought it crashing down against the lock on the cage door with a sonorous clang. The cage door drifted open, vibrating audibly as it did so.

¶I.

Llaralynn promptly stepped out of the cage, as Alyssandra and Kirsten followed shortly behind her.

¶I.

Alyssandra stopped. “I wonder if Jadia managed to get away?”

Chapter 8
“The Escape”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

Jadia sat in the darkness of a back alley, hidden from the commotion of the streets as she attempted to think of some sort of escape plan to get herself out of Talenburg. Her head was leaned back against the cold concrete wall behind her while Tif sat on her shoulder.

¶I.

“This is impossible,” Jadia said to herself, “the entire city is swarming with Orcs, Varanids, Slithards, Darkelves, and they’re all looking for me.” Jadia leaned her head forward with a sigh, then ran her fingers through her hair. “And I’m betting that Ogre isn’t the only Blackguard in town, either.”

¶I.

“Why would they be looking for you?” Tif queried.

¶I.

“They think I have something,” said Jadia.

¶I.

“What do they think you have?”

¶I.

“The Eye of Draco,” replied Jadia, “It’s a bright yellow topaz, bigger than a man’s fist. It used to belong to one of the elemental scepters -- the Rod of Air. It was stolen from the ruins of Draconia over two hundred years ago by an adventurer named Richard Harcroft.”

¶I.

“So where is it now?” asked Tif.

¶I.

“I saw it was about five months ago,” said Jadia, “It was at the Harcroft Estate. Abby was stuffing it into her pack as we were leaving.”

¶I.

Jadia clambered to her feet as Tif flew off her shoulder, emitting her usual radiance as she flapped her wings.

¶I.

“Tif! Knock it off!” Jadia scolded. “You’re going to attract attention!” Jadia then reached down to the ground and picked up her backpack, “Here, get inside.”

¶I.

Tif flew into the pack as Jadia closed the flap. Jadia turned around to set her backpack down on a nearby wooden crate, then went to peak around the corner in order to determine if it was yet safe to leave the alley. That’s when she came face to face with black, leather armor.

¶I.

Jadia swallowed hard, her heart racing, and let her eyes drift upward just slightly. Above the black, leather armor, sitting on the man’s shoulders, was steel, spiked and silver-plated gorget. Above that she saw only a smug, Human face staring down at her, narrowing his beady brown eyes with a conceited smirk. Jadia gave a polite little smile as the Blackguard stared coldly into her big, sparkling emerald eyes, forcing herself with every ounce of mental constitution she had to come up with some sort of way out of this.

¶I.

The Blackguard shot a courteous, toothy grin back to Jadia, then reached out with his armor-clad right hand and grabbed her by the throat. The lames of his silver-plated steel elbow-gauntlet dug into Jadia’s skin as he lifted her off the ground and carried her to the other side of the alley with one hand, pinning her against the concrete wall.

¶I.

“You’re not getting away this time,” the white-haired Mortiferean Knight smiled.

¶I.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Jadia, her voice strained as she reached up with both hands and began trying to pry the blackguard’s hand from her throat.

¶I.

Jadia swung her right leg out to her side and then piked it up as she brought it forward, attempting to kick the blackguard in the side of the head. The blackguard reached up, dropping his helm from under his arm and catching Jadia’s calf in his left hand just inches from his face. He pushed her leg back against the wall, pinning her in what looked to be a rather painful position.

¶I.

“Does that hurt?” said the blackguard, smirking pompously at the fiery-haired thief.

¶I.

“No,” said Jadia, rather nonchalantly despite the strain in her voice.

¶I.

“Don’t lie,” said the blackguard.

¶I.

“Honestly, it doesn’t hurt,” said Jadia. She then swung her left leg up at the same angle as her right and wormed her lower leg under the blackguard’s right arm, kicking it away and forcing him to drop her.

¶I.

Jadia took the opportunity to make a run for her backpack, but was halted when the blackguard caught her by the hair. He pulled back hard on her crimson mane as she screamed, swinging her back forcefully against the wall and pinning her by the throat once again with his right hand.

¶I.

“No human can move like that,” said the blackguard, squeezing her neck as his eyes burned horridly into hers. “What the hell are you?”

¶I.

“I’m more human than you are,” said Jadia, gritting her teeth.

¶I.

In one swift motion, Jadia reached her hands up and grabbed his wrist once more, then swung her body forward, kicking her legs into the air and wrapping them around the blackguard’s arm, then threw her arms up and, with the flats of her hands resting on wall behind her, pushed herself away from the wall. The blackguard stumbled backward as Jadia threw her head back, wrenching her throat loose from the blackguard’s grip as he began to drop her. She caught herself with her palms as her back arched, stopping her head from hitting the ground. In this position, she thrust her hips forward and piked her legs in a forward backflip manner, still entwined with the blackguard’s arm, and sent him sailing above her. The blackguard’s head hit the wall with a loud clunk, and he fell back to the ground as Jadia finished off her backflip, lowering herself from her handstand, one leg at a time.

¶I.

The blackguard lay with his legs and lower back propped against the wall, his shoulders and head resting on the ground, with one of Jadia’s moccasins on either side of his head. Jadia brought her feet together quickly around his neck, then leaned over to smile at the barely-conscious Mortiferean Knight before twisting her hips sharply, moving her legs in a scissor-like fashion that snapped the blackguard’s neck, killing him instantly with a thick crack.

¶I.

Jadia then removed the dark knight’s silver-plated sabatons, and then sat down on the ground, slipping her feet -- moccasins and all -- into the steel boots, one at a time. Next she took off the blackguard’s gorget. Jadia searched the ground, and managed to find a piece of twine which she used to tie her hair into a ponytail. She then lifted the gorget up over her head and lowered it down onto her shoulders. She pulled her ponytail out from beneath the gorget, and then proceeded to take the silver-plated gauntlets off of the blackguard’s body. She slipped her own hands into them and wiggled the fingers. They were a tad too large for Jadia’s dainty little hands, but not greatly so.

¶I.

“Jadia, that was incredible!” Tif beamed, leaning out of the backpack.

¶I.

“Thank you,” said Jadia, smiling brightly, “Now if only I had some frothy mead to wash this awful taste out of my mouth.” Jadia stood up, then walked over to where the blackguard had dropped his helmet. She picked the helmet up, looking over it briefly. It was a simple, black barbut helm with a t-shaped opening in the front. Jadia slipped it over her head. It was a bit too large, and she couldn’t see very well out of it, but it would have to do long enough to get her out of Talenburg.

¶I.

“That’s not going to work,” said Tif.

¶I.

“Why not?” said Jadia.

¶I.

“Because you have two humongous breasts sticking out about a foot in front of you and they’re barely even covered,” the pixie explained, “You’re not going to make it ten feet out of this alley before someone spots you.”

¶I.

“It’ll be fine,” said Jadia, “It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of female blackguards in Gaia.”

¶I.

“Yeah, but I’m betting none with a figure like yours,” said Tif.

¶I.

“Trust me,” said Jadia, “Now get down.” Jadia walked over and picked up her pack, slinging it around her back. She had some trouble getting it on with the armor she was now wearing, but after fiddling with the straps for a few moments, she finally got it.

¶I.

Jadia walked out of the alley and into the busy street.

¶I.

“It’s her! It’s the thief, Jadia Rowan! Get her!” a Varanid shouted.

¶I.

“Shit!” Jadia screamed, taking the helmet off and throwing it back in the direction of the Varanid as she began running the other way.

¶I.

“Told you so!” a tiny, muffled voice declared from within Jadia’s backpack.

¶I.

Up ahead, Jadia spotted a one-horse carriage being pulled in the same direction she was running. She sprinted as quickly as she could, then made a leap for the back of the carriage. Hanging from the top, she lifted herself into a handstand and then lowered one foot at a time down onto the carriage’s roof. She ran to the front of the carriage, picked the Halfling driver up off of the bench and hurled him away, not paying attention to where she was tossing the pint-sized man.

¶I.

Jadia took the Hobbit’s seat and snapped the reins, signaling the horse to move faster. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing two blackguards on horseback coming rapidly astern. Jadia snapped the reins again, and again. The horse ran at full speed now, but the black steeds behind her were still closing in. Her only chance would be to lose them in the forest outside Talenburg.

¶I.

Rushing out of the city, Jadia was pursued by the blackguards onto the road to Krendor. Jadia pulled back on the right reign, causing the horse to veer off into the forest.

¶I.

The carriage was tossed about as the horse dragged it through the woodlands, throwing Jadia from one end of the bench to the other, nearly causing her to fall off. She looked behind her, only to find that the blackguards were nearly upon her now.

¶I.

Suddenly, Jadia was hit in the right side by an arrow from the trees above, causing her to scream in pain. She doubled over, toppling down off of the carriage. She hit the ground hard, her left hip taking the brunt of the fall before hitting her head on a rock. Her vision grew blurry, but she managed to roll herself onto her back, looking behind her to see the blackguards fall from their mounts under a barrage of arrows before she lost consciousness.

Chapter 9
“Caravan”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

The ground shook with each of Baelzathoth’s footfalls as he trailed Lodin and Gail through the expansive catacomb tunnels. The bones of long-deceased centaurs rattled in their niches in the catacomb walls, threatening to break loose with every step the iron golem took.

¶I.

“We need to be careful,” said Lodin, “to stay near the surface. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of these tunnels lead down into the Underdepths themselves.”

¶I.

“It’s gotten lighter.”

¶I.

“What?”

¶I.

“It’s gotten lighter in here,” said Gail. “There’s a faint light coming from up around that next bend, about a hundred feet or so ahead of us.”

¶I.

“I can’t see any farther than where the light from Baelzathoth’s eyes stops, about twenty-five or thirty feet,” said Lodin. “Everything further than that is pitch black to me.”

¶I.

“You purebreds have an even more pathetic sense of sight in the dark than you do in the daylight,” Gail teased.

¶I.

“At least we purebreds have olfactory senses,” replied Lodin with a slight chuckle.

¶I.

“Even purebred Elves and Darkelf have olfactory senses, you know,” said Gail, narrowing her eyes at the paladin.

¶I.

“Yes, but only trifling. In Humans, those senses are much more highly developed.”

¶I.

“And in vultures those senses are more highly developed still,” Gail added with a roguish grin.

¶I.

“Are you honestly comparing humans to vultures?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Not at all,” said Gail, with a not-so-faint tinge of impious levity in her voice as she smiled coltishly at the paladin.

¶I.

“Speaking of olfactory senses;” said Lodin, “I smell fresh air.”

¶I.

“We’re coming up to the bend,” replied Gail.

¶I.

“I see that,” said Lodin, as the light from Baelzathoth’s eyes illuminated the twist in the catacomb tunnel.

¶I.

As the trio turned the corner, the light coming from the presumed outlet of the voluminous catacomb tunnel became visible to Lodin and Baelzathoth as well -- albeit as only a slight milky haze set against the livid canvas beyond the reaches of the golem’s eyes’ rubescent glow. It was unclear to Lodin as to whether this light was being cast from some source straight ahead, obscured by the smoke from Baelzathoth’s eyes steadily filling the chamber and centuries of dust being shaken loose from the catacomb walls by the impact tremors of the golem’s footfalls, or whether there were still a number of twists and turns in the tunnel yet to come. To Gail, whose eyes were far more adapted to the task of subterranean location, it seemed a combination of both factors.

¶I.

Suddenly, a long, skeletal arm came flailing out from the wall. Gail shrieked girlishly and jumped back out of its reach, unsheathing her longsword. She charged at the bony limb, and with a precise and skillful swing of her steely blade, she hacked at the flailing arm, severing it from the catacomb wall.

¶I.

Another arm reached forth from within the wall of bone, and then another, and another, and another still. Soon the catacomb wall had come alive, with flailing, skeletal arms and hoofed legs, and Centaurian skulls whose jaws quivered in silent, mocking laughter. The clatter of the bones was nearly deafening. A great roar of tortured voices came barreling down the tunnel from behind them; screams of agony, wails of sorrow, and grief-stricken laughter of most wicked vilement rushed upon their ears with a nearly deafening force as the shambling horrors that’d overcome the wall to their right spread not only throughout the length of the catacomb tunnel, but to the ceiling and then the left wall as well.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth,” hollered Lodin, “get us out of here, now!”

¶I.

With those words uttered, the smoke rising from Baelzathoth’s eyes shrouded him once again in darkness, and once again Baelzathoth began to transform into a roughly equine shape of similarly monstrous proportions to the nightmare he’d changed into earlier. The squealing moans and sharp clangs of twisting, popping metal filled the tunnel, nearly overshadowing the tortured wails of the catacomb spirits. Yet when the darkness faded, this time, Baelzathoth hadn’t transformed into a nightmare at all, but instead had become a great iron-skinned cerapter with glowing red eyes.

¶I.

“That’s great,” said Gail, her voice raised so that she could be heard over the macabre bellows echoing throughout the tunnel. “Now, how do we ride it?”

¶I.

Lodin scratched his head, staring up at the enormous creature; “That’s a good question!”

¶I.

Baelzathoth lowered his right wing to the ground.

¶I.

Gail quickly scaled the iron-feathered wing and mounted the mammoth equine. Lodin immediately followed, seating himself in front of Gail as he took up Baelzathoth’s chain-link reigns.

¶I.

“Hold on!” said Lodin, snapping the iron cerapter’s reins as Gail grasped his waist.

¶I.

Nothing.

¶I.

Lodin snapped the reins again, then again.

¶I.

Still nothing.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, run!” Lodin shouted.

¶I.

With that, Baelzathoth took off as a cannonball from a gun, rushing forward at breakneck speed with his hooves pounding into the dirt beneath him.

¶I.

The catacomb tunnel was shaken by the hammering of Baelzathoth’s iron hooves, and the bones that comprised the walls and ceiling began rattling free from their niches. Lodin and Gail looked behind them briefly to see the warren collapsing in on itself, caving in just behind them as Baelzathoth moved quickly enough to stay in front of the debris shaken loose by his own footfalls.

¶I.

Lodin and Gail turned their attention ahead as the light grew brighter. Baelzathoth took one corner after another, maneuvering through the catacomb tunnel with an almost ludicrous precision for a creature of such great mass moving with such alarming momentum. Soon the faint light they’d seen in the distance was a blinding radiance, piercing their eyes as Baelzathoth rushed toward it.

¶I.

Baelzathoth burst out of the cave and into the open air, folding his legs beneath his body and stretching his iron-feathered wings as he cleared the small ledge at the mouth of the catacomb. He soared away from the cliff-face, hundreds of feet above the ground.

¶I.

“I wonder how we’re staying up in the air,” said Lodin. “You’d think, even with a wingspan this great, a creature made of solid iron would fall like a stone if it attempted to fly.”

¶I.

“I’d be more inclined to wonder how Baelzathoth managed to transform into a winged unicorn in the first place,” Gail quipped, squeezing Lodin’s waist and then flashing him a mirthful smile as he looked back over his shoulder at the prepossessing young thief.

¶I.

“You’ve got a point there,” said Lodin, an amused smirk gracing his cheek.

¶I.

“Or a nightmare or fire demon, for that matter,” Gail appended.

¶I.

Soaring through the air aback the iron cerapter, it wasn’t long until Abigail beheld far beneath them a caravan, inclusive of a wide array of carriages, from simple coaches and wagons to cars large enough to haul livestock. Traveling along with the caravan were short cavalcades scattered about on either side, with the majority of the horsemen grossly under-armed. It seemed, to Gail, that this was a civilian escort, and that the caravan was most likely populated by traders.

¶I.

“Lodin, look!” said Gail, giving his waist a quick squeeze as she pointed down at the caravan. “I think we should land.”

¶I.

Lodin skimmed the ground below, quickly spotting the caravan and its accompanying cavalcades.

¶I.

“I think you’re right,” he said. “Baelzathoth, takes us down there.”

¶I.

The iron cerapter obliged and began descending upon the caravan in loose circles as Lodin attempted to steady himself by tightly gripping the iron reins. Gail held firm to Lodin’s hips as Baelzathoth dropped faster, until within a few moments they were nearing the ground.

¶I.

A bombardment of arrows launched toward them from two of the cavalcades below, as some of the others began turning around to join in the assault on Lodin, Gail, and their cerapter mount.

¶I.

Baelzathoth backflapped his wings, generating a great flurry; a torrent of air that deflected the arrows, creating a practical shield in front of him as he carried the paladin and the thief safely to the ground.

¶I.

The cavalcades stopped firing upon them as the cerapter golem touched down, and the nearest horseman, a Human in unkempt attire and scant armor, rode up to greet them with bow in hand.

¶I.

“What’s your business here?” the horseman demanded.

¶I.

“We need food and provisions,” answered Lodin as he jumped down to the ground.

¶I.

“We have money,” Gail added, hopping down off of Baelzathoth’s back.

¶I.

“What manner of demon is that?” the horseman asked, as Lodin jumped down alongside Gail.

¶I.

“It’s not a demon,” said Lodin, “it’s an automaton; a golem of some kind. We found it in Necropolis last night.”

¶I.

“You’ve come all the way from Necropolis in a single night?”

¶I.

“Yeah, why?” asked Gail. “Where are we now?”

¶I.

“You’re a half-day’s travel south of Bay City, we’ll be arriving about this time tomorrow, since we’ll be stopping to camp tonight.”

¶I.

Gail, confused, looked to Lodin. “We were only in those caves for a few hours,” she said. “How could we have surfaced over five-hundred miles away?”

¶I.

Lodin shrugged. “We must’ve crossed into the Underdepths briefly.”

¶I.

“So you were in Necropolis, and were somehow lured into the Underdepths?” the horseman asked. “Count yourselves lucky that you managed to get out of there alive. I can only imagine what sorts of deviltry you were subjected to.”

¶I.

“More than I care to think about right now,” replied Gail, putting her shades on.

¶I.

“Same here,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Of course, forgive me. You’re a paladin, aren’t you?”

¶I.

“Yes,” said Lodin. “Kha Lo Din, of the Knights of Aradia, and of the Kingdom of Béowyn.”

A troubled look suddenly graced the horseman’s face.

¶I.

“What’s wrong?” Lodin asked.

¶I.

“Béowyn isn’t a kingdom any longer, it’s a nation-state of the New Sovereignty.”

¶I.

“Since when?” inquired Lodin.

¶I.

“Since nearly a week ago, when a massive army of blackguards, Orcan warriors, Darkelf balisters, and Saurian troops stormed Grandshire. From there, they swept through the kingdom faster than word could travel. No one had time to warn anyone else. No one could’ve been prepared. There might still be one or two free cities, but rumor has it the High Empress of Faelore, who orchestrated this whole thing, is rallying for reinforcements from the Centaurs and the Tritons so they can finish securing what’s left of Béowyn.”

¶I.

“I’ve got to get to Hathor,” said Lodin. “If there’s anything left of it, I need to get to my paladin camp.”

¶I.

The horseman turned around; “Kyros!” he shouted.

¶I.

Within moments, a stout, portly Onocentaur began making his way toward Lodin, Gail, and the horseman.

¶I.

“Yes?” said Kyros. “What is it?”

¶I.

“These two want to travel to Hathor,” said the horseman.

¶I.

Kyros smiled brightly and began to laugh, his belly shaking and his cloven hoof stamping the ground.

¶I.

“We’ll smuggle you as far as Bay City, soldier, but you’re on your own from there,” Kyros explained with a chuckle. “We’re carrying enough illegal goods as it is, the last thing we need is to be caught harboring an enemy of the New Sovereignty! Besides, after Bay City we’re heading south again anyway, and I sincerely doubt anyone here wants to go so far off course just to help a paladin get to his camp.”

¶I.

“That’s fine,” replied Lodin, “we’ll find our own way from Bay City.”

¶I.

“They say they also need some food and provisions,” said the horseman.

¶I.

“And we need someplace to sleep tonight,” added Gail. “We have money.”

¶I.

“It would appear they have money,” said the horseman.

¶I.

“Well,” said Kyros, “if you’re looking for foodstuffs, I suggest you talk to Eadwig the Average, about four cars up. For other provisions, you’ll want to talk to Jenessa; she owns a small coach two cars past Eadwig’s. Tharbogg the Mad owns that car up there, just in front of Jen’s, and he’ll be happy to offer you a place to sleep, but you’ll have to mind his eccentricities. Tharbogg’s bow ain’t strung too tight, if you know what I mean.

¶I.

“Whatever you decide to do, get it done quickly, because we’re going to get moving again in a few minutes.”

¶I.

Lodin looked to Gail; “I’ll talk to Eadwig for some food, you go ahead and see what you can get from Jenessa.”

¶I.

“Gladly,” said Gail as she began walking away. “Oh wait!” she exclaimed, spinning around. “Don’t you need money?”

¶I.

“Yeah,” replied Lodin, smiling embarrassedly as his cheeks grew faintly pinkish. “Money would come in handy,” he added, strolling up to Gail.

¶I.

“Here’s five shales,” said Gail, pulling five silver coins from her satchel. “Be sure and get a lot of food,” she added, handing the coins to Lodin. “I haven’t eaten in days.”

¶I.

With that, Gail walked off to procure some basic supplies as Lodin began to follow, several beats behind her and at a much slower pace as he looked about the caravan.

¶I.

“Paladin!” the horseman shouted, dismounting his steed.

¶I.

Lodin turned around.

¶I.

“Paladin, I’ve something you’ll be interested in seeing.”

¶I.

“What would that be?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“I’ve come across something, supposedly from Necropolis,” the horseman replied, brushing past the Onocentaur.

¶I.

“What would that mean to me?” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Well, it’s an artifact, something that I’d imagine would be of importance to the Knights of Aradia, if for no other reason than to keep the Order of Blackguards from getting their hands on it. I bartered it away from an Elven trader who said he’d discovered it in Necropolis.”

¶I.

‘The Grimoire of Chthonicus?’ thought Lodin. “I’ll be glad to take a look at it, and tell you what it might be worth to the Knights of Aradia,” he told the horseman.

¶I.

“Great,” the horseman replied. “It’s just over here,” he continued, gesturing to the carriage nearest them, escorting Lodin to it as Baelzathoth followed. “You see,” said the horseman, “I’m a trader. I deal mostly in ancient artifacts, so I generally have no use for carriages most of the time. He,” said the trader, pointing to the coach driver sitting atop the carriage’s bench, “is the owner of the cart, but he’s letting me use some of his carriage space due to the size and value of this particular artifact.”

¶I.

The trader opened the carriage door, stepped halfway inside, and retrieved from it a small bundle. He took no time in unraveling the bundle and presenting the artifact to Lodin.

¶I.

The relic was in fact a helmet; a barbut helm with a comb of large, backward-curving spikes, a t-shaped opening in the front, and a pair of spiraling, ram-like horns on either side which seemed a bit outsized in relationship with the rest of the helm. The material of which the helm was made shone in the sunlight despite its dark color; though completely black, it had a metallic shimmer that put obsidian to shame, rivaled only by the most finely polished hematite.

¶I.

The trader handed it to Lodin, and as Lodin took it into his own hands it seemed to leap into the air due to its lack of weight. Lodin fumbled with it for a moment, and then looked to the trader, confused.

¶I.

“Is this chthonite?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Yes.” The trader nodded. “It took me months to identify it, seeing as how not a soul in all of Borea has ever seen real chthonite. I always thought it was just a legend. Sometimes I still can’t believe it. It’s everything the legends say it is. It’s completely impervious to heat and cold. You can dip it in liquid steel for minutes at a time and it stays cool to the touch. How it was even forged to begin with is beyond my understanding. It doesn’t rust or tarnish, it doesn’t even accumulate dust. It’s stronger than the strongest adamant steel, yet so light that the full plate weighs only a bit more than a single linen tunic.”

¶I.

“You have the full plate?”

¶I.

“Yep. Every last piece, even the codpiece, plus a long shield and glaive. The trader I procured it from claimed to have found it --”

¶I.

“In the secret trove of Rha Kai Tan,” said Lodin, “in the catacombs beneath Necropolis.”

¶I.

“Yes,” said the trader. “So I take it you recognize this artifact?”

¶I.

“The armor of Rha Kai Tan himself,” said Lodin. “You can’t put a price on something like this. According to the legend, it was forged in the fires of Hell’s deepest mines, smithed by Sindri the Dwarf, and conjured from the Abussos by Chthonicus. Rha Kai Tan dispatched entire armies single-handedly while wearing this armor before he finally succumbed to old age. He was invincible.”

¶I.

“I never would’ve believed such things, but this armor seems to watch me at times. I can feel it, even when it’s bundled snuggly in wraps of wool. I’ve been wanting to be rid of its evil for some time, though I couldn’t possibly part with it without knowing I’ve received a fair reimbursement for its worth. That would just make poor business sense, after all.”

¶I.

“Like I said, you can’t put a price on this.”

¶I.

“I beg to differ,” said the trader. “The Order of Blackguards would pay any price to retrieve this armor, and I’m sure the Knights of Aradia would pay any price to keep the Order from getting it. But, since I am rather desperate to be rid of it, I’d be willing to sell it to you right now for one hundred-thousand shales.”

¶I.

“A hundred, thousand shales? I could buy a mansion for less money. Besides, what makes you think I even have a hundred thousand shales?”

¶I.

“You may not, but I’d be willing to bet your lady friend does,” said the trader.

¶I.

“As would I. Unfortunately for you, I don’t decide how she spends her money. I’ll be sure to discuss it with her, though,” Lodin assured the trader, handing him back the helmet.

¶I.

“You’d better discuss it quickly,” said the trader. “Once we get to Bay City, I’ll have no trouble finding someone willing to pay four times what I’m asking now.”

¶I.

“Rest assured,” replied Lodin, “you’ll have your answer in the morning.” Lodin began to walk away, proceeding to Earwig’s car to obtain some foodstuffs.

¶I.

“Tomorrow morning isn’t good enough!” the trader shouted, as Lodin stopped dead in his tracks. “I’ll give you two hours,” he continued, placing the helmet back inside the carriage.

¶I.

Lodin turned slowly around, unsheathing his longsword, and came trudging back again to the trader, his eyes steely and stoic. He breathed from his nose, his nostrils slightly flared, his eyes narrowed, and an arrogant, chillingly calm grin creasing his cheek on one side.

¶I.

With one hand he lifted the trader by the front of his shirt and slammed him back against the carriage. Before the merchant had even time to gather his thoughts on the matter, a blade of adamant steel came swiftly upon his throat, stopping mere fractions of an inch from the trader’s sweaty flesh, it’s unusually sharp edge threatening to slice his laryngeal prominence as he gulped down his fear. Lodin breathed heavily, gritting his teeth in the most horrid smile, losing himself in the morbid pleasure he felt from knowing the marvelous terror he was inflicting upon trader’s heart. Lodin’s heart pounded, and unconsciously he grew evermore excited by each bead of panic bleeding out from beneath the man’s skin, his mind delighting deeply within as each drop of sweat rolled down his captive’s forehead.

¶I.

“It is unwise, trader, to deliver an ultimatum to a man who could just as easily deliver a deadly blow without you even having the time to blink. Tomorrow morning will do fine, won’t it, trader?”

¶I.

“Forgive me,” replied the trader, “I thought you to be a Paladin.”

¶I.

The air of Lodin’s face changed suddenly; his eyes grew wide, his mouth fell ajar, and upon his face grew a countenance redolent of a man that’d just been confronted with some appalling and hitherto clandestine truth. Lodin took back his sword and sheathed it once again into his scabbard, releasing the trader as he did so.

¶I.

“No,” said Lodin, “it’s you who must forgive me. I am indeed a Paladin; it’s just that I lost my entire brigade to Blackguards in Necropolis. Last night the maiden and I crossed paths, and we were attacked by some rather unpleasant creatures. Neither of us slept last night nor have we eaten in days. I’m tired from travel, sore from battle, filthy from wearing the same aketon under my armor for weeks, and as a final embarrassment, I haven’t even shaved in three or four days. I’m not yet myself again. I’m weak, hungry, and unkempt, and completely at your mercy in this matter. Would you please consider allowing me until morning to give you an answer?”

¶I.

The trader, still shaken from his near clash with death, looked back into Lodin’s eyes, as if pondering what sort of cursed things could’ve befouled the Paladin’s mind during his stay in Necropolis.

¶I.

“I suppose,” the trader conceited with a sigh of aggravation, though recognizably mixed with the relief that his life had just been spared. “If I’d been through so much in such short a time, I’d want a chance to rest before doing any business myself. It was rude of me to press the issue. Still, as I said before, it won’t be difficult for me to get four times what I’m asking now. So go rest up for now, but if I don’t get an answer from you by this time tomorrow, then the offer’s off the table.”

¶I.

“Thank you,” said Lodin. “Baelzathoth, come!” he bellowed, walking off toward Eadwig’s car. Baelzathoth followed, his hooves pounding against the ground, causing it to shake as he trotted up behind Lodin.

¶I.

Meanwhile, about five cars ahead, Gail knocked on the door of a large freight car.

¶I.

“Come in!” a young, feminine voice shouted from the other side of the door.

¶I.

Gail walked up onto the car’s stepladder and pulled the door open, climbing inside. The freight car’s interior was like that of a small grocery, less the food. To Gail’s right there were two shelved isles; a single set of shelves in the center of the freight car and a set of shelves on either wall, with an isle separating each from it’s neighbor. To Gail’s left was a counter, with a remarkably attractive, blonde Human girl standing behind it, and another set of shelves behind her.

¶I.

“Are you Jenessa?” asked Gail.

¶I.

The young woman nodded. “Yep, Jenessa Payne,” she said, beaming luminously. “Or Jenessa the Blonde, Jeni the Cute, Jenessa the Naughty, Jen the Flexible, Jenessa the Beautiful, Jenessa the Luscious, Jen the Busty, or whatever it is the guys are calling me this week.” Jenessa then let her eyes drift downward momentarily. “Although,” she added, “I think you’ll likely end up stealing those last two or three epithets from me.”

¶I.

“Keep them,” said Gail, rolling her eyes. “I’ve heard enough of those to last me a lifetime.”

¶I.

“Tell me about it.” Jenessa laughed slightly. “You can call me Jen or Jenessa or Jeni; I don’t really care which. What’s your name?”

¶I.

“Abigail, but I prefer ‘Gail’.”

¶I.

“Pleased to meet you, Gail,” replied Jenessa. “So, what can I help you with?”

¶I.

“I’m just looking for some basic provisions.”

¶I.

“Such as?”

¶I.

“Well,” said Gail, biting her lower lip, “is it alright if I just take a look around a bit?”

¶I.

“No problem,” said Jenessa.

¶I.

Gail smiled, and then turned to inspect the first isle. As she looked up and down the shelves on either side, she quickly located the lanterns and lantern oil. She bent down, tossing her hip-length hair behind her, and took three pints of lantern oil and placed them under her arm, and then grabbed two lanterns by the handles, stood back up, and resumed her search.

¶I.

Each time she found her arms full, Gail returned to the counter to set the items down and then continued exploring the shelves. By the time she’d finished, she’d found not only the three pints of oil and two lanterns, but also several boxes of matches, two bars of soap, a bottle of Nyanna perfume, a vial of Anyndar cologne, a razor, a bandage roll, two flasks of antiseptic ethanol, a bottle of burn ointment, a small jar of insect balm, a hairbrush, a silver-plated mirror, a small whetstone, a set of silver-handled lock picks, a magnifying glass, a spyglass, and two linen robes.

¶I.

“You’re not going to leave me anything to sell when we get to Bay City, are you?” asked Jenessa, smiling as she looked at the heap on the counter before her.

¶I.

“I like to be prepared for anything,” answered Gail. “I’m going to be on the road for the next few days anyway, or however long it takes to get to Hathor on horseback.”

¶I.

“May take a while, what with this new ‘political system’ we have now.”

¶I.

Gail nodded. “I’ll also take that bong up there,” she said, pointing to a smallish yet ostentatiously decorated crystal and silver hookah on the shelf behind Jenessa, “and an ounce of Mary Jane buds.”

¶I.

Jenessa grabbed the narghile-bong from the shelf behind her, as well as a large jar of Sacred Herb that sat next to it on the same shelf, and placed them both on the counter.

¶I.

“That’ll be twenty shales,” said Jenessa.

¶I.

“Pardon me? That’s quite a bit, don’t you think?”

¶I.

“It should actually be closer to twenty-five shales. It’s the hookah and the Nyanna perfume -- they aren’t exactly cheap. The hookah is real crystal and silver, not one of those glass and polished steel mockeries, and Nyanna perfume stopped being made after the Unseelie Court took control of the Faelore government. Everything else you have would add up to just under six and a half shales, and that’s including the Sacred Herb which usually goes for about two and a half shales per ounce; but instead of counting everything up, I’m being nice and giving you a deal.”

¶I.

Gail pondered over her impending bounty for an instant, her nether lip tucked pensively below her front teeth. “You’re right,” she said with an affirmative nod, as Jenessa hurriedly bagged the provisions into a canvas satchel. As she was finishing, Gail fumbled eagerly through her shoulder bag and quickly produced an electrum coin, nine silvers, and ten bronze coins, and reached out to hand them to Jenessa, who pocketed them without hesitation.

¶I.

“If you need anything else, don’t hesitate,” said Jenessa, simpering in a dallying manner the sensuous half-Darkelven found all too heavenly after her lonely extent in Necropolis.

¶I.

“Thank you,” replied Gail, returning Jenessa’s superficially affable yet tryingly coy visage. Gail found herself enticed such that the return of pleasantries almost instantly degraded into a state of awkwardness in which Gail found her cheeks growing decidedly red. She placed the canvas bag’s strap over her head, blatantly turning her gaze away from the alluring blonde merchant before her.

¶I.

“Thank you,” Gail unconsciously repeated, allowing her eyes to drift back up to Jenessa’s as she smiled impishly at the businesswoman one last time and headed out the door, closing it behind her.

¶I.

Once outside, Gail was met by Lodin, who walked toward her carrying a bag of groceries obtained from Eadwig the Average, with his equiformed golem closely in tow.

¶I.

“What’d you get?” asked Gail.

¶I.

“Some pork jerky, smoked herring, pastrami, a jar of pickled eggs, some dried figs, bread, cheese, a small bottle of ___ jam, and four bottles of mead.”

¶I.

“How much did it all cost?”

¶I.

“One shale and thirty-eight prints,” said Lodin, dropping three silver coins, six bronze coins, and two coppers into Gail’s hand. Without word, he then politely relieved her of the canvas shoulder bag full of the supplies she’d just bought.

¶I.

“Thank you.”

¶I.

“My pleasure,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“I’ll show you pleasure,” replied Gail, her heart still pounding from her discomfiting moment with Jenessa; only a split second later did she realize what she had said, and could not have caught herself before she misspoke. She would never have intended a remark

Lodin’s mouth dropped slightly a gap, and his brow furrowed in confusion. “You know very well that I have a fiancé awaiting me in Talenburg.”

¶I.

“I’m sorry,” said Gail. “I didn’t mean ... I would never.... Talenburg?” The expression on Gail’s face suddenly turned as mystified as that on Lodin’s. “If you’re so concerned about this fiancé of yours, then why are we going to Hathor, and not Talenburg?”

¶I.

“With the Unseelie Court in control of the throne of Béowyn, the Neutral Zone has undoubtedly been conquered as well, and most likely absolved due to its lack of necessity. It would be foolhardy of me to attempt to go to Talenburg to retrieve her on my own, especially since, if she’s alive, she would most likely seek refuge in either Hathor or Krendor, and we have to pass near Krendor on our way to Hathor anyway.”

¶I.

“So why did you say she was waiting for you in Talenburg?”

¶I.

“Well, that’s where we were originally supposed to meet. A few minutes ago, when that Centaurian fellow told us that Béowyn is now under enemy control, my first thought was to go to Hathor and assemble a small party to retrieve her from Talenburg, which I may still end up doing if -- ”

¶I.

“First,” said Gail, “we need to make sure that Hathor is one of those few cities that hasn’t been overtaken yet.”

¶I.

“It’s the most fortified city in all of Béowyn.”

¶I.

“Then Hathor is where we need to go, right?”

¶I.

“Right,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“So the plan hasn’t changed, has it?”

¶I.

“Well, no....”

¶I.

“Then why are we standing here talking about this instead of talking to Tharbogg the Mad?” said Gail, pointing to the immense eight-horse wagon that the Onocentaur had directed them to for shelter.

¶I.

Lodin shrugged, and then turned and began toward the door of Tharbogg’s freight car. Gail followed, as did Baelzathoth. Before reaching the door, however, Lodin was intercepted by a Hobling armed with a halfspear.

¶I.

“Halt!” the Hobling ordered. Lodin of course obeyed, as Gail stopped beside him. “Who is it you’re looking for?”

¶I.

“My name’s Kha Lo Din, I’m looking for Tharbogg the --”

¶I.

“Shhh! Whatever you do, don’t let him hear you calling him ‘Tharbogg the Mad’. He despises that epithet,” the Hobling explained.

¶I.

“What will he do?” asked Lodin. “Is he dangerous?”

¶I.

“Not exactly. His real name is Bebo Buggersby, and he’s a Hobbe like me, but ever since that nasty fall he took a couple years back, he’s been calling himself ‘Tharbogg the Mighty’, and apparently believes that he’s an Ogre.”

¶I.

“That’s so sad,” said Gail, her face swathed in genuine concern for the self-deluded Hobling.

¶I.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘sad’ exactly. It’s actually sort of an improvement. Before he had his accident, he believed he was the Princess of Vinland, and was growing a garden of slave-turnips that he believed would build his castle for him. That didn’t start until he was struck by lightning about six months before this ‘Tharbogg’ thing, though.”

¶I.

“But before that he was alright, right?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Well, no, not as such. See, the only reason he was struck by lightning is because he was outside in an electrical storm, in the rain, flying a kite with a metal key tied to it. Before that, he did nothing but rant on and on about how he believed he could harness the power of lightning. He had all these insane ideas about houses being heated without fire and lit without candles or lanterns, carriages moving without horses, and other such nonsense. It was really quite sad.”

¶I.

“Well, it would seem his current condition is a definite improvement, anyway,” said Lodin.

¶I.

The Hobling nodded in agreement.

¶I.

“We were directed here to requisition a night’s board from Kyros,” the Paladin explained, fingering the hilt of his longsword as it sat in its scabbard in an attempt to intimidate the half-sized Faerykin.

¶I.

“I’m sorry,” said the Hobling, “but Tharbogg doesn’t wish to be disturbed right now.”

¶I.

Lodin was beginning to become agitated, and so Gail put a gentle hand on his shoulder and then stepped past him, approaching the little Hobling.

¶I.

She leaned forward and removed her shades, her hands resting atop her bent knees, giving the Hobling an exquisite view of her scarcely covered, massively rotund breasts, and the nigh unfathomable fissure of cleavage between them. The Hobling stared into her bust, gawking at what seemed, from his miniature perspective, to be a boundlessly vast pair of orbs.

¶I.

“Listen, you little half an Elf,” said Gail, her smile warm and inviting, her eyes dreamy and sensually heavy-lidded, and speaking in such a soothing and melodious tone that the Hobling seemed oblivious to the clearly pejorative intent in Gail’s choice of words, “we really need a place to sleep tonight.” Gail then raised her left hand to her neck and allowed it to drift down slowly, her fingers tracing the inside edge of her bodice.

¶I.

“You have no idea how much I would appreciate it if you could have Tharbogg speak with us...” she said, still letting her fingers dance along the pink, silken flesh at her bodice’s edge as she reached up with her other hand and began fondling the Hobling’s ear.

¶I.

His face red and beaded with sweat, the Hobling broke mindlessly into a nervous chuckle, unable to keep his composure as Gail continued playing with his pointed little ear.

¶I.

Gail withdrew and straightened up, replacing her shades. With one knee bent slightly forward and her hands on her bare hips, she looked down past her entrancingly obtrusive bust and with a smile said to him, “I prithee to at least speak with him on our behalf.”

¶I.

“I dunno, he was very clear about not wanting any company...”

¶I.

“Prithee please?” she pleaded, pouting her lips and batting her eyelashes.

¶I.

The Hobling retreated with a harrumph to Tharbogg’s freight car. He peaked inside, and stood there for several moments -- apparently attempting to coax Tharbogg outside.

¶I.

It wasn’t long before the Hobling began making his way back from the freight car’s door with yet another Hobling in tow. This second Hobling was dressed almost entirely in pelts bound to him with leather thongs, and was brandishing what looked to be a tiny replica of an Ogren war axe. This was undoubtedly Tharbogg the Mad.

¶I.

“Who dare disturb Tharbogg the Mighty?” the fur-clad Hobling bellowed.

¶I.

“Kha Lo Din, son of Kha Ri Oric, Paladin of the Knights of Aradia, and of the Kingdom of Béowyn,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“Ah,” replied Tharbogg, “you must truly be a knight of utmost bravery to approach an Ogre of such great stature as I, Tharbogg the Mighty!”

¶I.

“Tharbogg, I must humbly request from you a night’s board,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“It is unwise, Paladin, to make requests of an Ogre of such great stature as I, Tharbogg the Mighty! But I will consider your request, since you’ve brought me a wench to appease my rigid phallus!”

¶I.

Gail huffed furiously and drew her longsword at the bantam Hobling.

¶I.

“You weensy little mouse-wanker!” she blurted, pointing the tip of her sword at Tharbogg’s face. “How dare you presume me a bond slave to be bought and sold and given at whim!”

¶I.

Tharbogg eeped and darted behind his halfspear-wielding guard, cowering shakily as he peeked out from behind his fellow Hobling. “I’m sorry!” Tharbogg pleaded.

¶I.

Satisfied that Tharbogg was now regretting his vulgar presumption, Gail sheathed her weapon and placed her hands on her hips. Both Lodin and the other Hobling found Gail’s behavior somewhat odd, as only moments before she’d exerted her incomparably feminine physique in her own favor, seemingly without thought of what bystanders might think of her, and yet now seemed more concerned with her own repute. Although to portray herself as a sexual object when advantageous for her to do so was one thing; to have the assumption made without her having intentionally given reason was quite another.

¶I.

‘Still,’ Lodin thought, ‘why not keep with the act? Surely the Hobling she swayed with her unrivaled allure must’ve told this Tharbogg fellow that there was a beautiful, petite, immensely full-bosomed young brunette awaiting him outside. Why the sudden change in attitude?’ Then, suddenly, three simple words occurred to Lodin: hard to get. She had Tharbogg precisely where she wanted him now, where he would offer the night’s board in a desperate attempt to woo her with his generosity. Certainly she knew subtlety would have no effect on a creature suffering from such madness, hence her dramatic performance.

¶I.

Lodin strained not to grin, mustering all he could not to let on to what Gail was doing. This was truly a glamour the likes of which would impress even the most practiced Witch, Shaman, Druid, or Warlock.

¶I.

Gail then turned to face Lodin. “Oh Lodin, I’m so hungry...” she said, rubbing circularly her enticingly smooth, sinewy stomach; her hand drifting down occasionally to the rise of her trousers. “If only someone would be kind enough to offer us a place to bed tonight, and to rest and eat this food we bought, I would be eternally grateful to such a man. Surely I would allow that man to conquer me!”

¶I.

“You’re not going to fall for this, are you, Tharbogg?” said the Hobling with the halfspear.

¶I.

Tharbogg stepped out from behind his guard and cleared his throat. “An Ogre of such great stature as I, Tharbogg the Mighty, would never allow such a fair maiden to go without proper shelter! You and your Paladin companion will take the bunks in my freight car, and I will bunk with my guard in his carriage!”

¶I.

The other Hobling smacked his forehead and walked away.

Chapter 10
“Conference”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

High in the mountains of northern Béowyn, deep within the now barren capital city called Grandshire, in the main banquet hall of Béowyn Palace, a meeting was about to take place. The sun was setting, and the dining hall was being flooded with soft, pink light. Lilithena Illyrium, High Empress of the Darkelves and of The Sovereignty, sat at the head of a gigantic dining table in a throne-like chair constructed entirely out of Human bones -- or at least a chair having that appearance. Near the head of the table, within arms length of Lilithena’s right hand in fact, sat the Darkelf Emperor, Alak Pharn, Dark Elf ruler of the kingdom of Faelore, appointed by the High Empress herself. The table had been set with plates, saucers, bowls, goblets, candle holders, and cutlery made of the finest platinum; all set upon a black table cloth with striking gold-weave designs throughout the material, many resembling dragons and other monstrous creatures. Surrounding the table were beautifully crafted chairs, gilded constructs with black satin cushions on the seats and backs.

¶I.

Lilithena leaned forward in her seat, her elbows planted firmly on the table and her chin resting within her hands. Her pouting lips and wandering eyes left little doubt in Alak’s mind that the sensuous blonde Darkelven was excruciatingly bored. Alak slouched in his chair and let out a deep sigh.

¶I.

“The others should be here any moment now,” said Lilithena, removing one hand from beneath her chin to play with a lock of golden hair that had fallen in front of her face.

¶I.

Alak placed his hands behind his head. “I know,” he replied with a yawn, watching Lilithena innocently twirl her hair around her index finger.

The double doors opposite of Lilithena opened as four Blackguards in full plate filed into the room. Two remained on either side of the open doorway, as the other two made their way to the other side of the long banquet hall to take their posts near Lilithena.

¶I.

“They’re here!” the High Empress chirped, perking up at once with her arms straight at her sides.

¶I.

Two Satyrs entered the room, each holding a primitive looking shield and spear. The Satyrs parted, allowing a Centaur and Centauress to enter the room with them.

¶I.

One of the Satyrs cleared his throat. “It is my deepest pleasure to introduce His Royal Majesty, the Sovereign King Therion Daegus, and Her Royal Majesty, the Beautiful Queen Crystalia Daegus.”

¶I.

The Centaur was at least nine and a half feet in height and impossibly muscular with a truly immense chest, arms, and shoulders, and his body was like that of the largest plow horse. The ram-like horns on either side of his head were quite a bit larger than the average Centaur, stretching a foot in either direction despite their spiraling curvature. He strutted into the room, his chin held high and his lion-like tail flailing behind him as his cloven hooves clicked and clacked against the hard marble floor tiles. He shook his head every few steps, waving his long, dark brown mane behind him.

¶I.

His mate, like any young Centauress, lacked anything resembling horns and possessed a bobbed tail. Her nearly six-foot tall body was nimble and deer-like with a surprisingly svelte torso not unlike that of slender yet full-bosomed young maiden. She bore facial features that were pleasantly fair and youthful, with large green eyes, full lips, and a tiny, feminine nose. Her fine, straight hair was dark blonde, nearly brown in color, and tied into a ponytail in back, which was slung forward over her right shoulder. The young Centauress was clad only in a loose, low-cut, white v-necked tunic which paraded several inches of her ample cleavage; it was decorated with black work embroidery in Celtic-style designs around the collar, cuffs, and trim, and descended almost to her naval. She trotted elegantly behind her mate, bouncing up and down with her nose in the air as she followed him to their seats.

¶I.

Emperor Pharn stood to his feet. “King Daegus, Queen Daegus, I’d like to welcome you to the former kingdom of Béowyn, the most recently acquired nation state of the United Sovereign Alliance.”

¶I.

King Daegus walked across the room to the chair opposite of Alak’s as Crystalia followed closely behind. The King stared down at the large chair, his nostrils flaring.

¶I.

He turned his head back to the Satyrs standing with the Blackguards near the entrance -- “Come remove these abominations so that I might seat myself!” he roared in a throaty, grumbling voice.

¶I.

The Satyrs hurried to do just that, their hooves clacking against the marble floor as they rushed to the chairs. They set their shields and swords on the table, inadvertently knocking over many of the settings, and then attempted to move the chairs as King and Queen Daegus stood aside. The Satyrs tried as hard they could to push the chairs out of Therion and Crystalia’s way, but their hooves kept slipping on the hard, smooth floor. Therion crossed his arms in front of him, growling angrily at the Satyrs.

¶I.

“Therion, don’t...” the Centaurian Queen warned, grasping his gargantuan bicep with her dainty little hands, staring up at her mate, pouting her lips and batting her eyelashes.

¶I.

King Daegus pulled his arm away sharply and lifted the chair in front of him with one hand, flinging it across the room with great ease, quickly doing the same to Crystalia’s chair with his other hand. Both furnishings flew over Emperor Pharn’s head and flew through one of the expansive windows that comprised the westward wall of the dining room. Luckily it’d been an open window. Therion then picked one of the Satyrs up by the back of the neck and hurled him back in the direction of the banquet hall’s entrance. The Satyr hit the wall with a ‘thud’, and fell limp to the ground.

¶I.

Crystalia let out a yelp, covering her mouth with both hands.

¶I.

“Oh my Gods!” she squealed, trotting over to the wounded Satyr, bouncing up and down along the way. “Are you alright little thingy?” she asked, kneeling on her forelegs to inspect the unconscious creature.

¶I.

King Daegus then turned to the other Satyr, snarling angrily as the comparatively small, goat-legged man fearfully backed away.

¶I.

Alak sat down, staring at Lilithena with both eyebrows raised. Lilithena stared back silently, her eyes wide.

¶I.

“Get back here and sit down!” Therion barked, folding all four of his powerful unguligrade limbs beneath his bulky, equine body.

¶I.

“Why do you have to be so mean to those cute little thingies all the time?” Queen Daegus scolded, trotting back to Therion in her usual, ‘bouncy’ manner.

¶I.

“Why must you care about those creatures so much? They’re just filthy little varmints,” replied Therion, putting his left arm around Crystalia’s shoulders as she lowered her rump to the ground, keeping her forelegs erect in order to remain closer to eye-level with her husband.

¶I.

“Just go easier on the little thingies from now on, they’re a lot smaller and frailer than we Centaurs,” said the Centauress, closing her eyes as she snuggled up to her King with a warm smile upon her face.

¶I.

Therion looked to Lilithena and Alak only to find that they were both gawking at he and his wife. “What?” he snapped.

¶I.

Queen Daegus withdrew from her husband.

¶I.

Emperor Pharn cleared his throat, “Um ... yes ... I ... uh....”

¶I.

“Are you mocking me, varmint? Because if you are...” the Centaur warned, pointing his finger at the terrified Darkelf politician, “...I’ll pluck that little grape you call a head clean off those pasty white shoulders of yours and kick it around on the ground!”

¶I.

“Guards!” Alak shouted, looking around the room.

¶I.

All four Blackguards remained at their posts, their hands up in front of them, shaking their heads in protest.

¶I.

“Everyone relax!” Lilithena ordered.

¶I.

“I must sincerely apologize. I seem to have lost my composure there for a moment. Please, pardon my brutishness,” Therion begrudgingly and insincerely pleaded.

¶I.

“It’s alright Therion,” Lilithena reassured the Centaurian King, her face warm and sympathetic. “Emperor Pharn shouldn’t have been staring like that.”

¶I.

“Mal’ai ssentauri, alu vith dosstan...” Alak mumbled, glaring at Magnetes Therion.

¶I.

“Alak!” screamed Lilithena.

¶I.

“What did you say to me, varmint?” the Centaur bellowed, standing to all fours. “I’ll stomp that little bitch arse of yours down into the ground if you don’t tell me right now!”

¶I.

Emperor Pharn ducked under the table.

¶I.

“Therion!” Crystalia screeched, reaching high above her head to strike the Centaur’s arm. “One more outburst like that and you won‘t be getting any of this arse later tonight!”

¶I.

King Daegus grudgingly lowered his equine body to the floor once again. He crossed his arms and lowered his head, pouting not unlike a child.

¶I.

“I think I’m getting a headache,” Lilithena complained, pinching the bridge of her nose.

¶I.

“I do hope I haven’t missed anything exciting.”

¶I.

Lilithena, Therion, and Crystalia looked to the main doorway to see an Eremyte moving passed the two Blackguards and into the room, his crocodilian tail dragging behind him.

¶I.

“Kourem!” beamed Lilithena, smiling ear to ear as the Saurian Ul’ssavk took a gracious bow. “Ambassador Kourem, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she said, grinning at the Eremyte as he strolled proudly along the side of the table opposite to King and Queen Daegus, taking Alak’s former seat nearest the High Empress.

¶I.

“You look ravishing as usual, Lilithena,” said Kourem.

¶I.

“Aw, thank you...” the High Empress cooed, placing her hand on Kourem’s scaly green shoulder.

¶I.

Emperor Pharn climbed back up to the table, settling into the seat next to Kourem.

¶I.

“Why is there a lizard at the table?” Alak teased, in an unsuccessful attempt at diplomatic humor.

¶I.

Kourem reached his arm behind Alak and struck the back of the Emperor’s head with his large reptilian hand. Lilithena giggled as Therion pointed and laughed. Even Crystalia couldn’t help but chuckle.

¶I.

“Ow, that really hurt...” Alak whined, rubbing the back of his head.

¶I.

“I really must say, Alak, I had no idea your diplomatic skills were so very suckish,” said Lilithena, still chuckling. “How I could’ve overlooked those xenophobic tendencies of yours while deciding upon a delegate for our people is beyond me.”

¶I.

The laughter eventually subsided, and everyone waited patiently for the next arrival.

¶I.

“So, High Empress Daelal, who else is supposed to be coming tonight?” asked Queen Daegus.

¶I.

“Legate Sibo Niddlewurg of the Cluricauns, Imperator Nyhawny Mobryn of the Leprechauns, Viceroys Naralia and Calan Laissir of the Tritons, and Vice-Gerent Kraegun of the Orcs,” replied Lilithena.

¶I.

“We do not care for Orcs,” King Daegus scowled.

¶I.

“King Daegus, have you ever heard the Human expression, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” Kourem inquired.

¶I.

“I do not care what the Humans say,” replied Therion, tossing his head back.

¶I.

>>>>>> “Honey, I think what the lizard man is trying to say is that if we and the Orcs share a common enemy, we should unite against them,” said Crystalia, looking up at her husband. “The Orcs are almost as powerful as we Centaurs. Together, we would be unstoppable.”

¶I.

“Ironic, then, isn’t it, that such a ‘Human’ concept would be the undoing of the largest Human empire in all of Borea?” Lilithena added.

¶I.

Magnetes Therion thought for a moment. “I’ll consider it.”

¶I.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t discuss this any further until everyone else has arrived,” said Alak. “It wouldn’t seem prudent for us to alienate one another before the meeting has even begun.”

¶I.

“Now there’s the Alak Pharn I appointed to govern the Darkelves,” said Lilithena, a look of smug satisfaction about her face. “The others should be here any moment.”

¶I.

The five sovereigns looked to the doorway, as if expecting someone to walk into the dining hall. After several moments, they began to let their eyes wander about the room.

¶I.

Magnetes Therion tapped his fingers on the table.

¶I.

Emperor Pharn sighed impatiently.

¶I.

Magnetes Crystalia closed her eyes and began to bob her head to and fro as she hummed melodically to herself.

¶I.

High Empress Daelal ------

¶I.

As the light from the banquet hall’s window dimmed, six figures cloaked in black, hooded robes entered the dining room. They appeared from a second, smaller entrance near the corner of the room, behind Lilithena’s throne and opposite of the window. Each of the robed figures carried a single black candle, and each walked about the hall in a separate pattern, lighting the candles and torches. They moved silently, and were careful not to brush by any of the Blackguards, nor the standing Satyr. One of them carefully stepped over the unconscious Satyr on the floor as he skulked across the room, lighting the wall lamps. The robed figures then proceeded to light the tall, black candles which sat in their platinum holders on the table, politely squeezing between the sovereigns, being careful not to touch them as they continued to wait. The figures then left the room as stealthfully as they had entered.

¶I.

A few moments later, two male Cluricauns entered the room. They parted from one another, each standing at its own respective side of the main entrance next to a blackguard. Each Cluricaun was only three feet in height at most, wearing equally tiny, black, hoodless robes.

¶I.

The Cluricaun at the right side of the entryway cleared his throat, “It is my greatest pleasure and duty to introduce the honorable Legate Sibo Niddlewurg, emissary of the Cluricaun High Council, representing Cluricaun interests in all matters to be addressed by the Unseelie Court!” the Halfling charged.

¶I.

Immediately, another Cluricaun stepped lightly into the room. He stood just under three feet in height, had pale skin, short, grayish blonde hair, and pale blue eyes. He was dressed in a flowing, dark green ceremonial robe with gold trim, a moted collar, and slightly belled sleeves. His exceedingly long, pointed ears were each decorated with several gold earrings, many with dangling gold chains and jeweled ornaments, as were his nose and lower lip. He walked slowly and confidently, his nose in the air, emitting an air of unbridled conceit with each silent fall of his pointed shoes. Without a word, he walked along the side of the table nearest the window and climbed up into the chair next to Emperor Pharn's.

¶I.

"Welcome Legate Niddlewurg," said Lilithena.

¶I.

"Thank you, High Empress Daelal," the Cluricaun responded.

¶I.

"Welcome," said Emperor Pharn.

¶I.

"Yes, welcome," added Ul'Ssavk Kourem.

¶I.

"We're pleased to be making your acquaintance, Legate," Magnetes Crystalia smiled.

¶I.

"Yes, pleased," Magnetes Therion added with a slight growl.

¶I.

"Thank you all very much, I'm pleased to be here. Vice-Gerent Kraegun is just behind me. He should be coming in any minute now."

¶I.

Everyone turned their attention to the entryway to see two squat, bow-legged Orcs with long arms clambering into the room. They wheezed and snorted as their large, bat-like ears twitched. Their skin was stippled grey, and a coat of sparse, thin hairs covered their bodies. They were each dressed in tattered rags. Magnetes Therion gave a throaty growl as he glared at the creatures.

¶I.

“I thought Vice-Gerent Kraegun himself would be coming...” said Therion, “...yet instead he sends these lowly Slave Orcs?”

¶I.

Magnetes Crystalia screamed as one of the Slave Orcs jumped onto the table and began sniffing at the settings, “Ew! Get that horrible thing off the table!” she screeched.

¶I.

“___! _____ Kraegun!” said Vice-Gerent Kraegun, instructing the Slave Orcs to withdraw as he strode assertively into the room with his long, black robe flowing behind him.

¶I.

Vice-Gerent Kraegun was a Great Orc, or ‘__h-___’ in the Orcish tongue. He looked much like the two that had entered the room before him, except that he was nearly seven feet in height, stood completely erect, possessed a full head of long, black hair tied back into a ponytail, and had a strange air of nobility to his demeanor. The Orcan dignitary stretched out his arms with a blissful grin, exposing his maw full of large, ape-like teeth as the Slave Orcs ran back to him and stood humbly at his sides.

¶I.

Emperor Pharn, Embassador Kourem, and Legate Niddlewurg stood to their feet. King and Queen Daegus remained nested on the floor; Therion with his head turned away from the Orcan official and Crystalia with her head bowed and her arms crossed uncomfortably.

¶I.

“Welcome, Vice-Gerent Kraegun,” said Lilithena.

¶I.

“Say right title, say in Orc speak! Say ____ Kraegun!” one of the Slave Orcs demanded.

¶I.

Vice-Gerent Kraegun struck the back of the Slave Orc’s head with great force, “O__, ____ Lilithena!” he said, telling the Slave Orc to show some respect for the high empress.

¶I.

Lilithena smiled and looked to Alak, “Emperor Pharn, would you be so kind as to show our guest his seat?”

¶I.

“His seat? Why weren’t any of us seated?” Magnetes Therion growled, looking to Lilithena for an answer.

¶I.

Lilithena looked up at Therion and wriggled her index finger, gesturing for him to lean closer. The huge centaur leaned closely to Lilithena as she cupped her hands around his ear and whispered:

¶I.

“I just want Pharn to make sure Kraegun doesn’t sit by you.”

¶I.

Magnetes Therion pulled back and gave the blonde Darkelven a respectful nod as Alak walked over to the chair on the other side of Legate Niddlewurg’s seat and attempted to pull the chair out, having more than a little difficulty moving the impossibly heavy gilded furnishing.

¶I.

Kraegun sauntered over to the seat, looked down at the Darkelf and laughed; “You Darkelves may not have much in the way of strength, but you’re the only Elves I like,” he said with a toothy grin, slapping Alak on the shoulder -- inadvertently knocking the Darkelf politician to the floor. Kraegun shook his head with an amused smirk, pulled the chair out, sat down, and scooted himself up to the table.

¶I.

The Slave Orcs remained near Kraegun’s side as Alak stood to his feet and returned to his chair between Ambassador Kourem and Legate Niddlewurg. No sooner did he do this than yet another dignitary entered the room, this one completely shrouded in draped, black satin.

¶I.

The child-sized figure unraveled itself, revealing a tiny yet somewhat shapely woman with long, pointed ears, porcelain-white skin, gray-blue lips, and large, almost glowing blue eyes. Her face was somewhat rounded, yet petite and feminine. The tiny woman had not a single trace of hair anywhere visible on her body. She covered herself in a black-dyed linen palla, wore sandals on her feet, and her long, almost rabbit-like ears were decorated with what must’ve been dozens of white-gold earrings; some were dangly and bejeweled, while others were simply large hoops. Her fingers and toes were too covered in ornamental white-gold rings. There were also an unusual number of white-gold necklaces of almost every imaginable style of chain hanging from her neck; some were chokers, some hung nearly to her knees, and many were beaded with jewels.

¶I.

Emperor Pharn stood to his feet. “Everyone, I’m pleased to announce that we’ve just been joined by Imperator Nyhawny Mobryn of the Leprechauns.”

¶I.

“Thankyou, Emperor Pharn,” Imperator Mobryn said as she took a bow, then walked over to take her seat beside Vice-Gerent Kraegun. She climbed up into the chair, but found the table to be at a rather inconvenient height. Though, she probably found it a bit less inconvenient than Legate Niddlewurg, who was even shorter than she.

¶I.

Immediately following Imperator Mobryn were two frog-like creatures with large mouths, bright green skin, raised eyes, somewhat small torsos and short upper arms; yet with long, slender legs, massive hands and forearms, and yellowish underbellies. The creatures were about six feet in height, stood erect on two large, webbed, digitigrade feet, and were each carrying a bronze trident in their webbed hands. The Frogmen then separated, taking their positions on either side of the doorway, next to the Blackguards and Cluricauns as the remaining conscious Satyr came to join the trio nearest the Magnetes’ side of the table.

¶I.

The Frogman stabbed the Satyr with its trident.

¶I.

“Oh my Gods!” Magnetes Crystalia screamed as the Frogman repeatedly gouged the Satyr, pulverizing the goat-legged man until he stopped bleating in protest.

¶I.

A single tear ran down Magnetes Therion’s cheek as he watched the display.

¶I.

“Are you alright, honey?” Crystalia asked, seeing that her mate had obviously been saddened by the loss of their servant.

¶I.

“No,” said Therion, his voice shaky as he wiped the tear from his face, “I was going to eat that Satyr.” Therion then stopped and sniffed, lowering his head. “I was going to eat it when we got home. Now it’ll be all tough and stringy.”

¶I.

“That’s it,” said Crystalia, crossing her arms as she turned her head away from Therion, “you’re sleeping alone tonight!”

¶I.

The other Frogman inflated his vocal sac and let out a deep, throaty croak. The other stood at attention and did the same. Then the first one croaked again, and then the second. They continued like this for a good ten seconds before finally, two more dignitaries entered the room.

¶I.

Viceroy Calan Laissir, and his wife, Viceroy Naralia Laissir, slithered gracefully into the room. Though their faces, arms, and torsos looked somewhat like the cross of a Human and an Elf, their hips sat atop long tails that fairly resembled the bodies of massive snakes, but with colorful dorsal and gastral fins, and a broad, horizontal tail fin at the end.

¶I.

Calan wore a gold crown bejeweled in pearls, and a heavy gold chain with one huge pearl -- larger in size than the average apple -- hanging from it. His face was like that of a young Elven man, yet not without the dignifying manner befitting a nobleman; although he would’ve looked quite feminine next to a more rugged, strong-jawed individual such as Magnetes Therion. His hair was long and green in color, tied in a lengthy braid behind his back.

¶I.

Naralia wore a light gold tiara and a beaded pearl necklace, and carried with her an odd, metallic blue scepter with a sickle-shaped head holding a light blue sapphire in it which was even larger than the pearl hanging from Calan’s neck. Her hair was purple and wavy, flowing forward over both shoulders and crossing at the top of her chest, then descending down so that it covered her fairly generous, otherwise naked breasts, and then back around behind her back where it was tied with a rope made from kelp. Naralia’s face was fair and feminine, comparable to High Empress Lilithena or Magnetes Crystalia; like them, she possessed the large eyes and soft, delicate features one would expect to find on the face of some mythical princess.

¶I.

Lilithena stood up once again, “Viceroy Calan Laissir, Viceroy Naralia Laissier, I welcome you to the former kingdom of Béowyn, the most recently acquired nation state of the New Sovereignty.”

¶I.

“Thank you, Empress,” said Calan, bowing his head.

¶I.

“Please, have a seat,” said Lilithena, gesturing to the chairs near the two Mangetes Daegus.

¶I.

The two Tritons quickly slithered over to the chairs and sat down with their tails draping over the arms. They then slid the massive bulk of their smoothly scaled, snake-like bodies down off the arms of their chairs and under the table, from which point they proceeded to coil their thirty-five foot long tails around the bottoms of the chairs as much as they could.

¶I.

Lilithena sat down.

¶I.

“Well,” said Lilithena, “that’s everyone. Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

¶I.

Magnetes Therion leaned over to his mate, who was still facing away from him, and quietly asked, “When you say I’m sleeping alone tonight, you mean after we have sex, right?”

¶I.

Magnetes Crystalia slowly turned her head and gave her husband a disgusted, and yet somewhat confused glare, then looked away again sharply, shaking her head as she let out an exasperated sigh.

¶I.

“I appreciate you all coming here tonight,” said Lilithena. “You’ve no idea how much it pleases me that you’ve offered the support of your militaries in my, or rather, our campaign to unite the kingdoms of Borea. Though, it does sadden me that the Humans of Béowyn would not agree to join the United Sovereign Alliance, and that we must all be here to secure the occupation of Béowyn. The Unseelie Court, of which myself, Imperator Mobryn, Emperor Pharn, and Legate Niddlewurg represent, has requisitioned the Order of Blackguards to oversee the occupation itself, and to command the army of Orcan warriors, Saurian troops, and Darkelf balisters, for which we have Vice-Gerent Kraegun, Ambassador Kourem, and Emperor Pharn to thank, respectively. Vice-Gerent Kraegun has instructed the Emperor of Thi’irane to send more troops under my orders, and they should start arriving sometime tomorrow. However, the former powers that be here in Béowyn are likely to attempt to start a revolt, in which case we may need a larger army. But we’ll discuss this further during dinner.

¶I.

“What I’d really like to discuss is the four elemental scepters. When we first captured Grandshire, we found that the Rod of Earth, which I believe was stolen from the Minotaur in the Centaurian Labyrinth over a year ago, was hiding right here in Béowyn Palace. It’s my belief that the Humans have been attempting to bring about the return of Mortifer, which is why we had our Darkelf soldiers track down the Rod of Air in the floating city of Draconia several years prior -- although that turned out to be of no concern since the gem was missing. The Saurians have also entrusted me with the Rod of Fire. And I believe, Viceroys, that you’ve brought the Rod of Water with you tonight?”

¶I.

The viceroys nodded their heads as Naralia held up her scepter, the Rod of Water.

¶I.

“Good,” said Lilithena. “With the four elemental scepters in our possession, we can keep the Humans from resurrecting Mortifer for as long as we remain united.”

¶I.

Therion had a puzzled look on his face.

¶I.

“Give back the Rod of Earth!” Magnetes Therion bellowed, standing up on all four hooves, pointing his finger at Lilithena.

¶I.

“Honey,” said Crystalia, “we really should let her keep all four of the rods so the Humans can’t get their hands on them.”

¶I.

“No! Don’t you see what she’s doing?” said Therion. “She’s a Darkelven, she commands legions of other Darkelves, of Leprechauns, of Cluricauns, of Batlings, of Sirens, and Hobbits ... her armies are the damned scum of Gaia! Now she’s got the Order of Blackguards working for her, who we all know worship Mortifer, and she’s asking us to just let her keep the elemental scepters! She’s the one who wants to bring back Mortifer! Just look at her throne!”

¶I.

“Therion!” Crystalia barked, “How dare you speak that way about our hostess! Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound? Don’t you think if the High Empress really wanted to get her hands on the four rods to bring about the return of Evil Dark Lord, she’d be sneakier about it? Why tell us all outright that she’s already procured three? Why straightforwardly ask the Merfolk for the fourth? She’d have to be some sort of imbecile to do that if her true intentions were to resurrect the Bringer of Death.”

¶I.

“That’s the last thing any of us want, Therion,” said Lilithena. “We’re all here to unite the peoples of the Northlands so that we might protect each other from the Humans that’ve infested every corner of Gaia. We need to be strong, and we need to work together to keep the Humans from obtaining the four elemental scepters. Now what that means, is that we who represent the great races of Borea have to trust each other. That’s the whole premise behind the New Sovereignty -- the trust and cooperation of the great races of Borea for the mutual benefit of all. We all seem to trust each other here, save for you, Therion.”

¶I.

“She’s right,” said Crystalia.

¶I.

Magnetes Therion looked around the room, seeing that all of the other dignitaries were nodding their heads in agreement with Lilithena and Crystalia, though he remained skeptical.

¶I.

Several cloaked figures entered the room through the smaller doorway behind Lilithena’s throne, on the wall opposite of the windows, each carrying a tray of food; the same cloaked figures that had lit the candles earlier.

¶I.

The first brought High Empress Lilithena Daelal a light plate of fresh blackcurrants, cheese, truffles, and small strawberry tarts, and filled her platinum goblet with Ul’iivar wine; a traditional, sparkling, frothing Darkelf beverage with a brilliant green glow.

¶I.

The next cloaked figure brought a plate full of grubs, larvae, and what looked like a fairly large piece of raw veal or mutton to Ambassador Kourem, and filled his goblet with water.

¶I.

Magnetes Therion Daegus was brought three large venison steaks, each one larger than the plate itself, and his goblet was filled with Centaurian ale -- a drink with every bit the intoxicating power of the whiskey made by Humans.

¶I.

Emperor Alak Pharn was brought a plate of cherries, grapes, sloes, and a bit of salted pork. The mantled servant then filled his goblet with Ul’iivar wine.

¶I.

Magnetes Crystalia Daegus received a plate of strawberries, grapes, sliced apple, and a dinner roll. Her goblet was then filled with Elven moon-cider, a lightly alcoholic drink made from the firefly fruit grown deep within the forests of Faelore. The drink was a yellowish off-white in color, sparkled as though it had dozens of fireflies dancing around it, and had a subtle glow that was slightly reminiscent of the more intense luminescence of the firefly fruit itself.

¶I.

Legate Sibo Niddlewurg was given --------. For drink, Sibo was given faewine.

¶I.

Viceroy Calan Laissir was brought a plate with a raw eel coiled so as to be barely encircled by the rim of the plate, inside of which were placed raw cuts of cod, haddock, plaice, and heaps of salted sturgeon eggs served in oyster shells. To drink, cold spring water was poured into his goblet.

¶I.

To Vice-Gerent Kraegun, one of the cloaked figures gave three smoked legs of lamb and left him a large bottle of Orcan malted ale.

¶I.

Viceroy Naralia Laissir was then given a plate with small raw cuts of ling, saithe, and cod, a small portion of salted sturgeon eggs, and several tiny bleaks. She was also served a small cut of raw squid tentacle, wrapped in kelp, as well as two raw oysters.

¶I.

Finally, Imperator Nyhawny Mobryn received -------

¶I.

“High Empress,” said Calan, “I’m not officially authorized to divulge this to you, but assuming the occupation of Béowyn goes well, King Rainen and Queen Anissia are prepared submit the throne of Atlantis as a nation state of the United Sovereign Alliance.”

¶I.

“The Emperor of Orokhane also wishes to send troops in support of the occupation,” said Kraegun. “Although, so far, he’s only managed to get a few of his representatives across the Faelore, Nardul, and Caucasus borders by way of hired aeronauts and dragonriders. The only break in the Great Wall that the Elves and Dwarves have constructed around Orokhane is the Valley of Necropia. Even the Thunder Orcs could not survive the onslaught of undead that would await them there.”

¶I.

“Well, then,” said Lilithena, “tell Emperor ___ to rally his troops, because the undead threat in Necropia is being neutralized as we speak.”

Chapter 11
“The Elven Village”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

“Jadia? You awake yet?”

¶I.

“Yeah,” Jadia replied with a yawn. She turned her head to the side and her eyes fluttered open to see Tif sitting next to her. “What’s going on? Where are we?” asked Jadia.

¶I.

“We’re just inside Béowyn, off the main caravan route between Talenburg and Krendor,” said Tif, “up in the canopy of the Viridian Forest, in the treetop city of Nyn’Vilnor.”

¶I.

Jadia’s sight slowly came into focus as she raised her head up off the pillow. She looked around a bit, finding herself on what appeared to be a cot with a mattress in the middle of a smallish room, with lit candles scattered about the desks and dressers encircling the accommodation. She laid her head back so that she was staring straight at the ceiling, and clenched her eyes shut as she stretched her arms back behind her with a yawn. Her back arched and her limbs sprawled as the life slowly began flooding back into her soar muscles. It was then that she suddenly felt as though something were missing.

¶I.

Jadia shifted positions, propping herself up with one arm as she raised the white, linen blanket from her body. Peering down beneath the covers, she noticed that she was topless. Jadia shook her head and sat up further, lifting the blanket higher in order to peer beyond the ocular obstruction caused by her magnificently alpine breasts. In doing so, she discovered that she was not only topless, but indeed completely naked.

¶I.

Confused, Jadia turned her attention back to Tif and asked, “How’d we get here?”

¶I.

“Well,” replied Tif, “not only did that disguise of yours not fool anyone in Talenburg, but when you tried to escape into the forest, a bunch of Elven archers saw you in that Blackguard armor and the two Blackguards chasing you, and thought that the three of you were coming to invade the city. You got hit by an arrow, and hit your head on a rock when you fell from the carriage. The two Blackguards chasing you got killed by a barrage of arrows from the Archers. When I explained to the Elves that you were only disguised as Blackguard so you could escape from Talenburg, they decided to bring you back here. You were almost dead by the time we made it here about an hour ago, but the Elves still managed to get you all nice and healed up.”

¶I.

“So, what happened to my clothes? And my weapons?”

¶I.

“The Elves’ve gottem, and your pack too.”

¶I.

Jadia swung her legs around and dangled them off the side of the cot, wrapping the bed sheet around her. She tucked the linen into itself and then gripped at her knees with her shoulders tensed and her eyes narrowed. It was as if she’d suddenly been catapulted deep into her own thoughts as she began to --

¶I.

Suddenly, a knock at the door.

¶I.

Jadia shook her head. “Come in!” she called out, her throat slightly horse.

¶I.

The door creaked open, and through it came two Light Elves, a male and a female, each exemplary specimens of their race; each with platinum blonde hair, pale blue eyes, porcelain skin, lissome builds, and faces of most stunning Elven grace and beauty. The male carried Jadia’s pack, whilst the female carried an armful of Jadia’s clothing.

¶I.

“Llyariel, Darelyen!” Jadia shouted, a sparkling white grin stretching across her face. Jadia stood up quickly, throwing her arms out to her sides, gesturing for an embrace from her Elven friends. Her sudden movement caused the sheet she’d wrapped herself in to fall to the floor, much to her alarm. Jadia’s eyes grew wide and her face became red, and she slowly lowered her gaze to the lump of linen lying lifelessly at her feet.

¶I.

Jadia yelped and dove down to retrieve the cover and sprang back up again, and began hurriedly wrapping it around her, making certain to secure it more reliably this time.

¶I.

“Relax, Jadia,” said the male Elf, “it’s nothing we haven’t both seen before.”

¶I.

“What are you two doing here?” inquired Jadia.

¶I.

“We live here now,” said Llyariel. “When the Sovereignty seized Béowyn, most of us Elves fled from the cities and into the forests, as did a number of Hoblings and Troop Gnomes. Darelyan and I were lucky enough to stumble onto Nyn’Vilnor. This city’s been hiding up here in the canopy of the Viridian Forest since King Béowyn’s time. Most of the Elves and Hoblings here don’t even know how to speak the Common tongue, they’ve been isolated from the Humans for so long. In fact, I’d wager you’re the first Human visitor here in over a decade.”

¶I.

“You mustn’t be able to hide here indefinitely,” said Jadia. “What do you do for food, or for water?”

¶I.

“We’re completely self contained up here,” answered Darelyen. “We have stores, taverns, medical facilities, everything we could possibly need. We harvest the majority of our food and herbs from the canopy itself, but we also tend to crops along the tree line ridge of Mount Llesca for anything that needs to be grown in the dirt, such as our hemp and maize crops, and we channel our water through steel pipes from the falls.

¶I.

//////

¶I.

“An nala narad Faernaril, valen Manila?” said the elder, asking if Jadia spoke Elvish.

¶I.

“Non narad Faenaril,” or ‘No speak Elvish’ replied Jadia, shaking her head slowly.

¶I.

“Darelyen,” said the elder, turning to face the young male Elf, “nalor anis narad nu ni.”

¶I.

Darelyen nodded his head.

¶I.

The elder then turned back to Jadia, “Ai’ni nerlad nala’n yia.”

¶I.

“We need your help,” said Darelyen.

¶I.

“Ai’ni’n Nanila anem rynadem silen on li quethen inivil,” said the Elder.

¶I.

“Our princess has fallen ill to a mysterious poison,” said Darelyn.

¶I.

“Ki lien tolil on yianadis nila, uni on queladis ki quethen mor’naenil ein nynad thalen ki granen kuodil min ki llamenar isondil al Draconia,” said the Elder. “Ai’ni tenar odadis li colil al ki vivil al ein naenil, di yianadis nila ul kiradem.”

¶I.

“The only way to heal her, is to find the secret black flower that grows atop the great mountain on the floating isle of Draconia,” said Darelyen. “We can make a potion from the nectar of that flower, which will heal her upon consumption.”

¶I.

Jadia’s eyes went suddenly wide. “Ooh! I have some of that!” she exclaimed, standing to her feet and walking over to the dresser to search her backpack. She unbuckled and lifted the flap, and began rummaging through the rucksack’s contents. After a moment or two, she pulled out a small bundle of cloth. She untied the string that bound it, and then unraveled the cloth, removing from it a small, corked bottle of strange gray-black liquid.

¶I.

“Draconian black-flower healing potion,” said Jadia, tossing the bottle to Darelyen as she went to sit back down on the cot. “I lifted it from a magick shop in Woodcroft nearly two months ago. I don’t know why I’ve been carrying it around so long, seeing as it doesn’t work for injuries, but you never know when something like that’s going to come in handy.”

¶I.

Darelyen handed the bottle of potion to the elder, who wore a somewhat confused expression upon his face. The elder took the bottle, and contemplated on it for several moments before breaking into laughter and walking out of the room -- presumably to treat the princess’s illness.

¶I.

“That was ... convenient,” said Llyariel.

¶I.

“It’s just as well,” said Jadia as she stood to her feet. “I need to be leaving for Grandshire first thing in the morning. I don’t really have the time to go questing after some legendary flower that only grows on the top of some mountain on an island that floats in the sky as part of a campaign to save the life of an ill Elven princess suffering from the ravages of a mystical poison right now anyway.”

¶I.

Llyariel and Darelyen looked at each other momentarily, their eyes wide as Jadia’s words struck them.

¶I.

“I really wouldn’t recommend going to Grandshire,” said Darelyen, turning his gaze back to Jadia.

¶I.

“The High Empress of the Unseelie Court has set up a temporary headquarters there,” added Llyariel. “It’s the heart of the Sovereignty.”

¶I.

“I know,” said Jadia, “but my friends have been taken to the main dungeon there. Or so I overheard as I was running away from some soldiers back in Talenburg. It’s because of me that they’re in this mess. The blackguards are looking for me because they think I have something they need.”

¶I.

“Then it seems to me they’re using your friends to lure you into their clutches,” said Darelyen.

¶I.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Jadia. “It’s because of me that they have them, so it’s up to me to rescue them. Besides, I figure there’s no safer place to be than the heart of the Sovereignty.”

¶I.

“How do you figure that?” said Llyariel.

¶I.

“Haven’t you ever noticed that whenever you’re fighting one elite adversary such as a Blackguard, he’s always an incredibly powerful force to be reckoned with, yet whenever there’s at least three or more of them they always end up dropping like flies?”

¶I.

“Jadia, listen, I know that it seems like that sometimes, but that’s just because --”

¶I.

“I’ve made up my mind, Llyariel. I’m going to Grandshire to rescue my friends.” Jadia made her way toward the lanai as Tif, Llyariel, and Darelyen followed.

¶I.

Jadia leaned against the guardrail of the balcony, admiring the expansive treetop city as she looked from side to side. Tif perched on the railing next to Jadia’s hand, as Darelyan and Llyariel came up behind her.

¶I.

The city was breathtaking.

¶I.

To the left were tree houses as far as the eye could see, many built around the circumference of their trees, with lanais and ___ connected by catwalks and rope bridges. Lights from inside the structures cast a soft glow on the trees around them, and the doorways and windows were lit so brilliantly that they became a seemingly endless field of stars as they receded back into the furthest unseen reaches of the canopy.

¶I.

Directly below, the trunks of the trees disappeared into a lightless abyss; a void that seemed utterly without life save for the faint trickle of a stream.

¶I.

Straight ahead was another field of lights cast too by brightly lit Elven dwellings. And they too seemed to regress infinitely into the tree line, above which towered the twin peaks of Mount Gladhopiggen and Mount Glittertind, which lay near Krendor in Lomshire, just beyond the edge of the Viridian Forest. The royal blue silhouette of the crags all but blended completely with the dusk sky, and Lucifer’s star shone fiercely as the first of its companions began to make their appearance in the afternoon twilight.

¶I.

To the right were still more structures, stopping about eight hundred feet or so away at the mountainside, near a gurgling waterfall that poured down into the stream shrouded in the nothingness below.

¶I.

The city was quite busy, alive, with Light Elves, Gold Elves, Wood Elves, Sunrise Elves, Moon Elves, Grey Elves, Gold Elves, Hoblings, and Troop Gnomes walking up and down the catwalks and rope bridges as Pixies, Feeorins, and Sylphs flew about amongst the trees. From all around, it seemed, came the unmistakable smell of meals being cooked, as did the faint sound of people speaking softly with one another. Never had Jadia seen a city so active and yet so peaceful at the same time.

¶I.

“It’s beautiful,” said Jadia, marveling at the city with moonlit eyes as tiny flakes of snow began fluttering down from the sky above. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

¶I.

“It’s a shame it won’t be here much longer,” said Darelyen, coming up beside Jadia and with her admiring the bustling city of Nyn’Vilnor as he set an arm across her bare shoulders.

¶I.

“What do you mean?” asked Jadia.

¶I.

“The village Elders are content to have us wait here for the armies of the Sovereignty to exterminate us,” Llyariel replied as she came to Jadia’s right side, opposite of Darelyen, and leaned back against the balcony’s railing. The lithe young Elven woman then reached up and brushed the back of her hand against Jadia’s cheek and proceeded to play with her hair, stroking the thief’s crimson locks.

¶I.

“I thought this place was well-hidden,” said Tif.

¶I.

“It is,” said Darelyen, caressing Jadia’s shoulder. “Unfortunately for us, the Darkelves will stop at nothing to destroy the Lightelves, and any other Elf-breeds with whom we dwell. Likewise, the Cluricauns will stop at nothing to destroy the race of Hoblings. The Unseelie Court will do whatever is necessary to wipe out every last refuge and vestige of the Seelie Court. Even the resistance cells in Faelore are gone by now, and the same will unquestionably occur here in Béowyn now that the Unseelie Court has the assistance of the Blackguards, the Saurians, and the Orcs.”

¶I.

“We’ve been trying to talk the Elders into taking a more offensive stance concerning the occupation,” added Llyariel, weaving her fingers through Jadia’s dark cherry mane, stopping intermittently to twirl her fingers around. “They aren’t listening, though. Perhaps when they see that a single Human female is willing to travel to the very heart of the Sovereignty -- by herself -- in order to rescue her friends, that Human’s courage and bravery will inspire them to take some sort of action, rather than hiding up here in the trees like a tribe of cowardly primates waiting for death to befall them.”

¶I.

“At the very least,” said Darelyen, “it might inspire some of our militia to disobey the City Council and start a resistance with or without the consent of the Elders.”

¶I.

Jadia reached up to the side of her face, taking Llyariel’s hand in her own, and gave the Elf’s wrist a gentle kiss before placing their hands on the guardrail. “You’re being far too kind,” she said. “I’m not nearly as valiant and noble as you both seem to think.”

¶I.

Darelyen shook his head. “Jadia, you’re probably the most loyal person we’ve ever known. You’d do anything for the people you care about, and everyone knows th--”

¶I.

Suddenly, another knock at the door, and Jadia, Llyariel, and Darelyen spun around as Tif began hovering around their heads.

¶I.

“Come in!” Jadia shouted.

¶I.

A youthful Elven woman then entered the room, a Moon Elf with shimmering porcelain skin, white hair, and electric blue eyes, dressed in a flowing white robe and carrying with her a large silver platter, and a linen chemise draped over one arm. Upon the silver platter were a few bread rolls, slices of apple, some cherries, a bowl of soup, and a glass of red wine.

¶I.

“Food for thee,” said the Elven chambermaid. “Thou, ah, thou needest, um, needest be eating.” The young woman was obviously having difficulty articulating in the Common tongue. “For thy strength,” she added.

¶I.

“Thank you,” said Jadia, walking back into the room as the chambermaid set the platter down upon the nightstand next to the cot, and set the chemise on the bed itself.

¶I.

“There being a man ... downstairs ... man who like to speak with you,” said the chambermaid.

¶I.

“Send him up,” said Jadia, making her way toward the bed as the chambermaid headed for the door.

¶I.

Jadia turned back toward Darelyen and Llyariel as the chambermaid exited the room, shutting the door behind her. “Turn around,” said Jadia, gesturing to the Elven couple by twirling her finger around. They reluctantly obeyed, rolling their eyes as they did so.

¶I.

Jadia undid the sheet and let it fall from her body, and then picked up the chemise. It was slender, extremely slender. It would’ve been skintight on even a rather lithe Human woman, and could only have been worm comfortably by an Elf. Unfortunately for Jadia, it probably could’ve fit her somewhat loosely if it weren’t for her bounteous stern and preposterously oversized bust; the former of which would’ve at least strained the fabric’s limits, and the latter of which could never hope to fit inside the garment to begin with.

¶I.

Jadia let out a huff and turned around, and then made her way to the dresser. She unbuckled her backpack and pulled out the nightgown she’d worn last night and quickly threw it over her head, allowing it to slide down over her body, for the most part concealing her nudity.

¶I.

“Alright, you can turn around now,” said Jadia, walking back over to the bed. The thief sat down with one leg dangling off the edge of the cot and her other ankle tucked beneath it as she began picking at the food.

¶I.

Darelyen, Llyariel, and Tif came up to her.

¶I.

“Jadia, I can see your cunny!” Tif declared, buzzing around Darelyen and Llyariel’s heads.

¶I.

Jadia looked down, then quickly pulled her ankle out from under her thigh and snapped her legs shut. “Sorry,” said Jadia, her face red as she popped two cherries into her mouth and began to suck on them nervously.

¶I.

Llyariel smiled. “It’s more than alright.”

¶I.

“It’s not as if we could see anything anyway,” said Darelyen. “The lighting in here’s pretty dim and there’s, y’know, there was a shadow....”

¶I.

“It’s nice to know you were looking,” Jadia teased.

¶I.

“Honestly, Jadia, we’ve all seen each other nude before,” Llyariel stated.

¶I.

“We’ve done a lot more than that,” added Darelyen.

¶I.

“Yes,” Jadia agreed, “but we were still basically children then. Teenagers, just beginning to realize our sexuality. We were exploring, experimenting. Now that we’re adults we should be showing some semblance of modesty, some measurement of maturity.”

¶I.

“Well if that’s the case, why dress so scantily to begin with?” Llyariel inquired.

¶I.

Jadia pulled the cherry stems from her mouth, each now tied in a knot, and placed them on the silver platter on the nightstand beside her as she relaxed her legs a bit. “I like the feeling of the air against my skin.”

¶I.

“Stop being so damned coy, Jadia,” said Llyariel, going over to the cot and nestling down between Jadia and the nightstand. The Elven woman put a hand on the inside Jadia’s bare upper thigh. Slowly she moved her hand along the limb’s inner surface, bringing it closer each moment toward her aim between the thief’s legs. “I know you’re just trying to entice us,” she continued, grinning toothily, confidently as her face drew nearer to Jadia’s. Soon their faces were nearly touching one another, their small, button-noses side by side, almost pressed against one another’s cheeks as the women breathed softly into each other’s mouths.

¶I.

“Is it working?” said Jadia, grinning widely, her lips beginning to graze Llyariel’s. Their eyes now lidded heavily, their smiles slowly fading, they opened their mouths to one another and their tongues began to drift ever so slightly outward, each reaching out to the other, cautiously, blindly probing forward for its companion. It seemed their tongues were now mere thousandths of an inch away from each other, each able to feel the moisture of the other, each feeling the other’s warmth and longing to embrace it.

¶I.

“Hell yes it’s working,” said Darelyen.

¶I.

Jadia and Llyariel broke away from one another and turned sharply to face Darelyen. Never had they seen an expression of such thorough desperation and anguish as that upon his face; neither woman could keep from laughing.

¶I.

Of the two girls, Jadia was the first to stop laughing long enough to utter a sentence. “Don’t just stand there looking dumb, come over here and join us,” she giggled.

¶I.

“Jadia,” said Tif, flittering about Darelyen’s head, “don’t you have friends to be thinking about? You should be getting as much rest as you can before you leave for Grandshire in the morning. Besides, isn’t there supposed to be someone coming up here to see you any minute?”

¶I.

And at just that moment, there was yet another knock at the door.

¶I.

Jadia let out an annoyed grunt and sat forward, her hands resting on her knees. “You’re right, Tif. Of course, you’re right. Though it isn’t as if I’m going to be able get much sleep now that I’ve gotten my hopes up. I’ll probably be so antsy that I won’t be able to sleep at all.”

¶I.

“Just get rid of him,” Darelyen urged. “Then we can do our thing, get you nice and relaxed so that you can actually sleep, and you’ll be more than rested enough by morning.”

¶I.

Jadia nodded. “Come in!”

¶I.

The door creaked open, and a figure in a white mantle entered the room. The robe’s hood hung down like a veil over his face, shrouding everything but his chin from view. Slowly he raised his arms, the mantle’s bell sleeves dangling as he reached up to the hood and revealed himself.

¶I.

His face could’ve belonged to a Lightelf, if not for his blood red eyes and pitch black hair.

¶I.

“Darkelf!” Jadia screeched, darting -- nearly leaping -- for the dresser. She reached quickly into her unbuckled pack and pulled out a buck knife, and pointed it at the Dark Elf as she began to sidestep slowly toward Llyarial and the cot, stopping once she was standing directly in front of Tif and Darelyen.

¶I.

“Llyariel, get behind me,” Jadia commanded, her eyes trained intently on the Darkelf.

¶I.

“Jadia, please,” the Dark Elf pleaded, his hands in front of him.

¶I.

“Jadia,” Llyariel shouted, “calm down! It’s just Aramyn!”

¶I.

“Aramyn? Aramyn Haran?”

¶I.

“Yes, Jadia, it’s me. And I must say, you really are the spitting image of Abigail and your mother.”

¶I.

Jadia lowered her weapon and then tossed it over on top of the dresser. “Turn around, give me a moment....”

¶I.

Aramyn turned around, and Jadia began to rummage through her backpack. After a moment or two, she pulled out a pair of white linen leggings and proceeded to slip them on, one leg at a time. She pulled them as far up as they’d go, nearly a quarter of the way between her nether region and her naval, then cinched the drawstrings and quickly tied them into a knot.

¶I.

“Alright, you can turn around now.”

¶I.

“Thanks,” said Aramyn, turning back around to face Jadia. “Your, um, attire ... or lack of it, I should say, was making me a bit uncomfortable. You and I are almost related, after all.”

¶I.

“Don’t remind me,” Jadia replied. “So what is it you want?”

¶I.

“I take it you don’t care for me all that much, do you?”

¶I.

“You’re incredibly perceptive, aren’t you, Aramyn? Of course I don’t care for you. I don’t know you for one, for two I know almost nothing about you, and three, what I do know about you is that you’re the Darkelf that my mother cheated on dad with. What reason could I possibly have to care for you even the slightest bit?”

¶I.

“I shouldn’t expect you to feel any differently. Though if you gave me the chance, I’m sure you could learn to at least tolerate me. After all, your father and I have managed to work out our differences. We’ve actually managed to become quite good friends.”

¶I.

“My father never even met you, Darkelf liar,” said Jadia, glaring abhorredly, practically bathing Aramyn in the sheer, unadulterated detestation cast by her steely, loathing gaze.

¶I.

Aramyn crossed his arms, furrowed his brow, and pursed his lips. “Alright,” he said, nodding his head slightly and taking a step away from the door, “I’ll just have to prove it to you then,”

¶I.

“Don’t you dare take another step near me, Darkelf!” Jadia warned.

¶I.

“Isaac!” Aramyn shouted.

¶I.

Behind Aramyn, the door knob turned and the door opened, and through the door walked another mantled figure, this one a bit burlier than Aramyn.

¶I.

“Father?” said Jadia.

¶I.

The figure pulled the hood down, revealing his sandy red hair and beard, his lively green eyes, and his freckled face. “Surprised?” he queried, his smile great and wide, and his arms out to the sides.

¶I.

“Dad!” Jadia shouted, running up to Isaac and throwing her arms up around his neck as he bent down a little to embrace her. He lifted his daughter off the ground, holding her tightly to him with his arms clenched around her waist.

¶I.

Jadia kissed her father on the cheek, and he warmly returned the gesture. “Oh my Gods, dad, I was so worried. I had no idea where you were or if you were alright. For all I knew you’d killed yourself after mom died. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

¶I.

“Well I would’ve written,” said Isaac, setting Jadia back down, “but I had no idea where to write to.”

¶I.

“Hi Isaac!” Tif exclaimed.

¶I.

“Hi, Tif.”

¶I.

“I understand,” replied Jadia, “but why didn’t you leave a note? Where’d you go?”

¶I.

“I did leave a note. I left it on the table.”

¶I.

“I didn’t see it,” said Jadia, shrugging her shoulders.

¶I.

“Anyway, your mother told me, just before she died, about Abigail, about Aramyn. I couldn’t believe that she’d betrayed me like that. After the funeral, I decided to go and get Aramyn’s side of the story.”

¶I.

“Actually,” Aramyn interrupted, “he came to Arlianor intent on disemboweling me.”

¶I.

Jadia laughed.

¶I.

“Well, to be fair,” said Isaac, “I really did attack him when I first saw him. I came at him with a knife, but Karianna slugged me in the head with a frying pan and I dropped the knife. Then Aramyn started hitting me, and hit him back a few times. We wrestled around for quite a while. He was quicker than me, I was stronger than him, and as soon as we realized we were at a stalemate, we started talking things out while Karianna bandaged us up.

¶I.

Needless to say, I was very surprised to discover that he had absolutely no idea who I was. As it turns out, your mother was living quite the double life.”

¶I.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I gathered from what Abby and I managed to piece together.”

¶I.

“That’s what Abigail said.”

¶I.

“Dad, when did you meet Abby?”

¶I.

“About six weeks ago, down in Leighton. She stopped there to visit Aramyn and Karianna, and to fill them in about you and Kyra. I got the chance to speak with her briefly. She was on her way to Necropolis to look for you, since she’d heard rumors that you were planning a campaign there to explore the catacombs.”

¶I.

“I postponed that trip when I heard they were planning to finally send a hunting party into the caves outside of Talenburg to slay the Fafnir. I wanted to be one of the first to search the caves for treasure.” Jadia thought for a moment. “You must’ve been surprised when the Elves brought me here.”

¶I.

“A bit,” said Isaac, “but I was on my way to Talenburg anyway. I started packing this afternoon, right after Toren showed up to warn us that this ‘New Sovereignty” was beginning to invade the Zone. He thought they’d be invading Béowyn next, and was quite surprised to learn they’d already taken Béowyn and were merely absolving the Zone. But, he told me that he saw you in Talenburg.”

¶I.

“Wait, back up...” said Jadia. “Toren’s here?”

¶I.

“Yep.”

¶I.

“Toren?”

¶I.

“That’s what I said.”

¶I.

“Toren Llyraeus?”

¶I.

“Yes, Jadia.”

¶I.

“Riley’s father, Toren?”

¶I.

“Yeah, Jadia. Same guy.”

¶I.

“You know Toren?” Darelyen queried.

¶I.

“Yeah,” said Jadia, turning her gaze to Darelyen. “How do you know Toren?”

¶I.

“Toren Llyraeus is the one working the hardest to try and convince our Elders to take a more offensive position concerning the occupation,” said Llyariel.

¶I.

“He’s all anyone’s been talking about since he showed up here this afternoon,” Darelyen added. “He’s debating the issue with the Elders as we speak.”

¶I.

“Okay, wait,” said Jadia, tossing her hands in the air as she made her way toward the cot, “this is all a bit much to take in. I need to sit down....”

Chapter 12
“Refuge”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

Alyssandra and Llara sat by the small fire pit in the center of the borough of Krendor, the county seat of Lomshire. Less than an hour prior they’d finished an enormous meal of pork ribs, beans, potatoes, and maize. Such formerly exotic -- yet now commonplace -- meals were made possible due to Béowyn’s trade relations with the Dwarven, Human, and Ogren colonies on the western continent of Iyatee, mainly in the Vinland region; trade relations which were bound to suffer with Béowyn under the occupation of the Unseelie Court.

¶I.

Alyssandra took a hit from the blue, stained glass hookah, pulling as much smoke as she could into her lungs. She struggled to hold it in as she passed the bong to Constable Galvyn on her right, who took his hit as Alyssandra released a puff of smoke from her lungs, coughing slightly.

¶I.

“And by the time the battle was over,” said Sergeant Aelfsson, “there were only about six hundred of us left, including civilians and children.”

¶I.

As Sergeant Aelfsson spoke, Constable Galvyn passed the narghile to Lord Bram of Krendor Borough.

¶I.

“That’s really unbelievable,” said Llara, as Lord Bram took his hit and passed the hookah to Alderman Gregor. “I’m surprised any of you managed to survive at all.”

¶I.

Alderman Gregor took a hit from the bong and then passed it along to Sergeant Aelfsson.

¶I.

“You know it’s only going to be a matter of time before you’re attacked again,” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“I know,” replied Sheriff Bryan of Dellingdale, to whom Aelfsson then passed the hookah. He took his hit and then passed the bong to Thane Dempsey.

¶I.

“Not to change the subject,” Galvyn interjected, “but we’ve arranged for the two of you to share a room with my daughter, along with that Kirsten woman we found you with.”

¶I.

Alyssandra nodded. “Thank you, we really appreciate that.”

¶I.

“Yes, thank you,” Llara added, watching as Dempsey passed the bong to Watchman Cadby.

¶I.

Watchman Cadby then took his hit and passed the hookah to Bailiff Ronan, who did the same before passing the bong to Officer Borgleif, Chief Bailiff of Krendor Borough’s City Guard.

¶I.

“So,” said Alyssandra, “about how many people are here right now?”

¶I.

“About fifteen hundred,” said Lord Bram.

¶I.

Officer Borgleif finished taking his hit and then passed the bong to Watchman Bodolf. “I sincerely hope that the Unseelie Court won’t condemn the smoking of Mary Jane,” said Borgleif.

¶I.

“Not a chance,” said Gregor. “Not even the most evil and corrupt government in all of Borea, nay, all of Gaia, would make the Sacred Herb illegal. If they did that, why, they might as well make it illegal to smoke tobacco in taverns!”

¶I.

Everyone fell into hysterics.

¶I.

“Not even the Unseelie Court,” said Bodolf, passing the bong to Llara after taking his hit, “would be capable of that level of insanity!”

¶I.

Llara took her hit and then passed the hookah along to Alyssandra.

¶I.

“Well,” said Constable Galvyn, “I should probably show you two, to your room....”

¶I.

“Let’s go then,” replied Llara, clambering to her feet.

¶I.

Alyssandra hurried to finish her hit, drawing in as much smoke as she could, her eyes closed as she savored the mouthwateringly sweet, piney flavor of that wonderful, lip smacking herb.

¶I.

“Aly, let’s go,” Llara prompted.

¶I.

“Sorry,” Alyssandra said with a cough, releasing a puff of smoke from her lungs as she rose to wobbling stand, passing the bong to Gavlyn. “I just love that stuff so much.”

¶I.

“Of course you do,” Llara returned, attempting to follow Gavlyn as he handed the narghile off to Lord Bram and began walking away from the pit. “A Witch who doesn’t love the Sacred Herb is like a fish who doesn’t know how to swim.”

¶I.

Alyssandra and Llara followed Constable Gavlyn about half a block, which might as well have been a mile in their current condition. Along the way, neither Alyssandra nor Llara could’ve overlooked the scars of battle that Krendor Borough now bore. Most of the houses had nearly been burned to the ground, spatters of blood dappled the street, and at least three bodies were visible by a mere cursory glance.

¶I.

Finally Gavlyn veered from the street toward his house. The two women followed him down the gravel path to his door, at which point he lead them inside.

¶I.

“The two of you will be staying down in the cellar with Kirsten and my daughter,” said Gavlyn, rubbing his red, heavy eyes.

¶I.

“How old is your daughter?” asked Alyssandra, squinting slightly.

¶I.

“She’s twenty. She’s actually one of the King’s ... former King’s Knights. In fact it was mostly her leadership that kept our little borough here from being overtaken in the attack. She normally lives in Sterling, but considering recent events....”

¶I.

“What’s her name?” asked Llara.

¶I.

“Corrigan. Well, Dame Corrigan. Or is it Dame Gavlynsdottir? Whatever. I’m a side on the little inebriated right now. A little side on the inebriated right now. You know what I mean. I’m mullered,” said Gavlyn, shaking his head. “The family just calls her Corri. You want that door right there. Just go straight down the stairs. At the bottom there should be a cellar. Once your down there, stay, because that’s just where you need to be. Corri and Kirsten are probly down there. I need to get some sleep.”

¶I.

Llara and Alyssandra proceeded to the door, opened it slowly, and stepped inside, closing it behind them. They could see at the bottom of the short flight of stairs a rather large room illuminated with several candles, as well as a huge, canopied bed and many piles of blankets and clothes. Sitting on the bed were two women, obviously Corrigan and Kirsten.

¶I.

“It’s times like this that I truly despise stairs,” said Alyssandra.

¶I.

“Who’s there?” Corrigan responded with a start.

¶I.

Llara and Alyssandra began descending the staircase.

¶I.

“It’s just us,” said Llara. “Your father told us you’d let us board here tonight.”

¶I.

“It’s those two women I told you about,” said Kirsten. Both she and Corrigan arose from the bed and came to meet Alyssandra and Llara at the bottom of the stairway.

¶I.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Dame Gavlynsdottir,” said Alyssandra, bowing her head to the Knight.

¶I.

“And I you, Priestess. Your name is...?”

¶I.

“Lady Phoenix Lazarus, Fanarra Clan, Coven of the Morning Star. But you can call me Alyssandra.”

¶I.

“And your name?” said Corrigan.

¶I.

“Llara.”

¶I.

“Come sit,” the Knight offered, nodding in the direction of the bed. “We were just toking up.”

¶I.

“Sounds great,” said Llara.

¶I.

The four women traveled over to the Knight’s bed and sat cross-legged in a circle upon it. Corrigan reached over to her nightstand, near where her sword was propped against the wall, and gathered in her hand a brass pipe and a small pouch of hemp buds. She pulled one of the larger buds out of the baggy and carefully plucked a small green nugget from the mass, and then loaded the nug into the bowl of the brass pipe.

¶I.

“So,” said Kirsten, brushing a few limp strands of brunette hair from before her left eye as she tucked them behind her ear, “you’re a Witch?”

¶I.

Llara laughed. “You didn’t notice the black mantle, or her Paladin escorts in the bar last night, did you?”

¶I.

Kirsten’s cheeks grew red as Corrigan searched for her flint and matches.

¶I.

“It’s alright, Kirsten,” said Alyssandra. “What did you want to ask me?”

¶I.

Corrigan found what she was looking for, struck a match against her flint, and then lit the bowl as she closed her lips around the mouthpiece, drawing the smoke into her lungs.

¶I.

“Well, I was wondering if you could tell me how magick works.”

¶I.

Corrigan then handed the pipe to Kirsten, who began to take her hit.

¶I.

“I’m sorry,” said Alyssandra, “but we really can’t discuss the intricacies of the Craft with cowans.”

¶I.

“I’m not asking you to reveal any Craft secrets or anything,” said Kirsten as she handed the pipe to Llara. “Just give me an example.”

¶I.

Alyssandra pursed her lips, thinking of something she might be able to tell the inquisitive bar wench without telling her too much. “I can tell you that contrary to common belief, an invisibility spell doesn’t actually make someone invisible. It just makes others overlook you. If you are the only person in the middle of an open field, or if you walk up to someone and punch that someone in the face, you’ll still be seen.”

¶I.

Llara then offered the pipe to Alyssandra, who took a hit, and then passed it back to Corrigan.

¶I.

“Basically,” Alyssandra continued, “when you perform an invisibility spell, you focus on your self, and visualize yourself becoming invisible. Your mannerisms and behavior will naturally change in such a way that you become effectively invisible. You’ll blend in, and people will overlook you entirely. In that respect, it’s a lot like a glamour.”

¶I.

“So why do so many spells require herbs and things if all you have to do is visualize?” asked Kirsten, before taking her next hit from the pipe passed to her from Corrigan.

¶I.

“No, I’m not explaining this right. Magick is interactive, just like everything else. It’s like air. Air has substance. If you put a cup upside down underwater, the inside stays dry, because the water can’t rise up into the cup since there’s already air there. The reason we breathe is because there’s something in the substance of the air that we need to live, which is why people can suffocate and drown, right?”

¶I.

“Right,” said Kirsten, passing the pipe to Llara.

¶I.

“We take what we need from the air we inhale, and then breathe out the same substance, slightly altered. Plants breathe in that slightly altered substance, and then breathe out the very substance we need. And a horse does the same thing we do. Not only that, but it eats grass, and from eating that grass, produces manure, which helps produce more grass as well as feeding fungus and insects at the same time.”

¶I.

“So everything’s connected?”

“That’s right,” said Alyssandra, taking the pipe from Llara as she finished her hit. Alyssandra then took a quick puff and passed it back to Corrigan. “Magick works the same way. A lot of people who think they know how to use magick believe that their power comes from within them, while a lot of others would like to think that they’re tapping into something outside of themselves. It’s actually both. Just like our physical bodies are intimately linked to the physical world that we live in, our spirits are just as intimately linked to the spiritual world we live in. Performing magick is a simple matter learning how the magickal and spiritual forces within you interact with the magickal and spiritual forces around you, sort of like learning how to walk. When you learn how to walk, you have to figure out how the physical properties of your own self interact with the physical world around you. Learning magick is the same sort of thing.”

¶I.

“It’s hashed,” said Llara, handing the pipe across to Corrigan. Corrigan quickly began loading another bowl.

¶I.

“But we naturally walk on two legs anyway,” said Corrigan. “Our instincts tell us how to do it more than anything else, don’t they?”

¶I.

“The same is true in magick,” Alyssandra replied. “At least with most races, anyway. See, most races have certain natural magickal abilities that they take to just as naturally as walking, but they don’t necessarily have an aptitude for magick in general.”

¶I.

Corrigan lit the new bowl, took a couple of puffs to make sure it would stay lit, and passed it to Kirsten.

¶I.

“My people,” said Llara, “can stroll up the side of a tree just as easily as we could walk on the ground. We can do other things too, but that’s probably the most noticeable.”

¶I.

Kirsten finished her hit and passed the pipe along to Llara. “So, could someone ever actually become invisible?”

¶I.

“Theoretically, yes,” said Alyssandra. “But, could you ever lift a horse off the ground with one hand?” The Priestess was then handed the pipe.

¶I.

“What do you mean?” asked Kirsten.

¶I.

Alyssandra took her hit, and then handed the pipe off to Corrigan. “Well,” said the Witch, “in the physical world, the more dramatic the effect, the more effort or skill is required. To lift a horse, you’d either need a lot of people working together, combining their brute strength to lift it, or if you were to do it by yourself, you’d need a complex system of levers and pulleys. Magick is sort of the same way. Actual invisibility is a really dramatic effect, just like lifting a horse, so being able to pull it off would require pretty extreme magickal measures just as lifting a horse would require extreme physical measures. Of course, a creature with extreme magickal strength, such as a God or a higher-level demon, could make itself invisible rather easily, in the same way that a creature with extreme physical strength, such as an Ogre, could lift a horse rather easily.”

¶I.

“And spells are like the pulley thing, right?”

¶I.

“Exactly. Creatures that don’t have a lot of magickal strength can use their magickal knowledge to make something happen anyway, just as a creature that doesn’t have a lot of physical strength could use its physical knowledge to rig up a lever and pulley system to lift the horse. But the stronger you are, the less complex the lever-system needs to be. That’s why some demons only have to say a few magickal words to become invisible. But to milk the analogy for all it’s worth, I suppose it would be possible for a large number of Witches all working together to make someone invisible, just like it would be possible for a large number of Humans all working together to lift the horse off the ground.”

¶I.

“Do you know any true invisibility spells?”

¶I.

“Well, no,” replied Alyssandra. By this time, the pipe had made its way to Alyssandra once again, and so she quickly took her hit and passed it to Corrigan. “Unfortunately, unlike pulleys and levers, magick isn’t something right in front of you that you can see and touch. It’s intangible. That makes it extremely difficult to chart progress and measure successes when trying to figure out how to attain a desired effect. Sometimes you can perform a spell and have it work just fine, then repeat the spell exactly and get a completely different result, or no result at all. Most magickal theorists are of the opinion that this has to do with unseen variables, just like how weather patterns could be altered by the flapping of a butterfly’s wings. I doubt if even a handful of Humans have ever managed true invisibility, or even anything similarly dramatic.”

¶I.

“If that’s so, why is it Wood Elves can walk up the sides of trees?” asked Corrigan.

¶I.

“For the same reason birds can fly and fire flies can create light,” said Llara, passing the pipe to Alyssandra. “Only those are physical abilities, and the vertical stride is a magickal ability. A Human performing a vertical stride would be like a Human creating light from her own body, or flapping her arms and flying like a bird.”

¶I.

“Well, yeah,” said Kirsten, “that’s sort of what I always figured.”

¶I.

“Same here,” added Corrigan. “Why don’t Humans have any inherent magickal abilities like that?”

¶I.

Alyssandra passed the pipe to Corrigan. “They do,” she said. “Humans have a rare sort of ‘intuition’ when it comes to magick, and an unusually wide range. Many Humans can see and speak with ghosts, for example, even when those ghosts don’t necessarily wish to be seen. Most other races are incapable of seeing ghosts unless the ghosts intentionally manifest before them. The same goes for incorporeal demons, who often have to take certain measures to keep Humans from seeing them. Humans have a knack for being able to create new spells and to intuit things about the workings of magick that members of other races might have a much more difficult time learning. Humans are also probably more skilled at divination than any other earth-bound race. What we lack in dramatic inherent abilities, we make up for in sheer versatility.”

¶I.

“So much for not revealing the intricacies of magick to cowans,” Llara quipped.

¶I.

“Oh, I haven’t even touched the intricacies. I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of a vague overview.”

¶I.

“Do you know of any Humans that have managed really dramatic feats of magick?” asked Kirsten.

¶I.

“There’s only been a few that I know of,” the Witch answered. “The most famous is probably Pope Chthonicus the Black Mage. He and the Warlocks he employed managed to create a host of magickal weapons and artifacts for Rha Kai Tan to use, and defensive items to keep Kaitan’s concubines safe from harm. One of his last projects was a golem made to be the vessel of the demon, Baelzathoth. Fortunately for the world, Chthonicus died before he could complete that project. He was also supposed to have been working on a talisman whose wearer could command the Tyraque, a slightly larger, winged version of the Tarasque. But, again, luckily for us he died before he could create such a devastating device.”

¶I.

“I remember hearing about him,” said Corrigan, puffing on the pipe, as it had made its way back to her. “Wasn’t he trying to find a way to resurrect Mortifer?”

¶I.

Alyssandra nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what this invasion was all about. Chthonicus believed that Rha Kai Tan was the prophesied Harbinger who would pave the way for Mortifer’s return. He believed that Kaitan was destined to use the four elemental scepters to travel into the elemental realms and retrieve the four keys that would unlock the Gateway to Purgatory. Kaitan died from old age before Chthonicus was able to learn the locations of any of the scepters. Chthonicus wrote everything down in his grimoire in the event that a ‘new’ Harbinger, a direct reincarnation of Rha Kai Tan himself, should arise. His grimoire was called the Black Grimoire of Pope Chthonicus the Mage, or simply the Grimoire of Chthonicus.”

¶I.

“So where’s the grimoire now?” asked Kirsten.

¶I.

“In Necropolis, purportedly buried under the Temple of Mortifer that was built atop the Centaurian Catacombs about three thousand years ago.”

¶I.

Llara looked to Alyssandra, slightly puzzled. “So that’s why Lodin and the other Paladins in his brigade were sent to Necropolis? To keep the Blackguards and the Unseelie Court from getting that book?”

¶I.

Corrigan blinked. “Who’s Lodin?”

¶I.

“Alyssandra’s fiancé,” said Llara. “He was supposed to convene with Alyssandra in Talenburg after he returned from his mission to Necropolis.”

¶I.

“He actually should’ve been in Talenburg at least a few days before I made it there myself,” Alyssandra added. “We were supposed to meet last night at the Talenburg Inn, but he never showed. We were going to go search for him. We were going to leave for Necropolis this morning, but that’s when Talenburg was seized by this ‘New Sovereignty’.”

¶I.

“Why didn’t you just stay there?” asked Kirsten. “He could’ve just been late to show. He might’ve gotten held up.”

¶I.

“No, I know my Lodin too well. He wouldn’t have let anything keep him from me. The only way he would’ve just been late is if something happened on his way to Necropolis, in Necropolis, or on his way back from Necropolis. That’s why we were heading to Necropolis.”

¶I.

“Well, what if it just took him a while to find Necropolis or to get out or what have you, and was already on his way home?” said Corrigan. “You could’ve missed each other entirely.”

¶I.

“Well I admit it was a desperate plan,” replied Alyssandra.

¶I.

“More than desperate,” said Corrigan; “‘imbecilic’ is more like it. You should’ve stayed where he’d be likely to find you, because if he is alive and well, that’s where he’ll be looking for you.”

¶I.

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway. Once Lodin realizes that Béowyn’s been invaded, he’ll head straight for his Paladin camp in Hathor. He’d assume that I’ll have gone there for safety.”

¶I.

“We’ll have to go through Hathor on our way to Grandshire, anyway,” said Llara. “Instead of turning around and going all the way to Necropia, we can just head back to Hathor after we rescue Riley and Will. That is, if they haven’t escaped and headed to Hathor on their own.”

¶I.

“That’s going to be difficult,” said Corrigan. “From what I’ve heard, all the railroads in Northern Béowyn are temporarily down. You’ll have to trek through the Azure Mountains on foot. The only way into Grandshire is through Hel’s Pass, which I can almost guarantee will be heavily guarded by Glacier Orcs, Snow Orcs, and Frost Ogres.”

¶I.

“We could always go through the fiords of Trondheim and hit Grandshire from the west, circumventing Hel’s Pass completely,” Llara suggested.

¶I.

“You’re mad,” said Corrigan. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the Sovereignty has an army of Saurians numbering in the thousands -- and you want to travel through one of the largest swamplands in all of Borea, right next to the heart of the Sovereignty itself?”

¶I.

“The fiords are nearly frozen this time of year, and the Saurians are cold-blooded,” Llara rebutted.

¶I.

“The Salamanders are cold-blooded,” said Alyssandra, “and so are the Nagas. But the Troads, the Rahvs, Pteranyds, and the Lizardfolk are all warm-blooded. Besides, even the dumbest of the Saurians can build a fire.”

¶I.

“And let’s not forget about Swamp Orcs,” added Corrigan. “Besides, you’d still have to find a way through the Azure Mountains in order to get to the fiords.”

¶I.

“Not if we went south into the gulf of Skagerrak and then followed it to the coast, and then traveled up through the coastal fiords. We could slip into Grandshire from there by sticking to the rocky lowlands between the fiords of Trondheim and the Azure Mountains. We’d still be close to the Ice Swamps, but not too close.”

¶I.

“No, Llara,” Alyssandra contested, “that would take far too long. Why don’t we just sail to the Swalbard Islands while we’re at it?”

¶I.

“You’re right,” said Llara. “Of course, you’re right. I’m just not particularly looking forward to traveling through Hel’s Pass.”

¶I.

“Alyssandra,” said Corrigan, “why don’t you just order five or six Paladins to escort you through the pass? That would greatly increase your chances of survival.”

¶I.

“Can you spare any?”

¶I.

“I can spare five or six,” replied Corrigan. “They don’t really listen to me anyway. I don’t think the Paladins care much for taking orders from us King’s Knights.”

¶I.

“Well authoritatively speaking, you should really be lateral to one another. The King’s Knights answer to bureaucratic branch of the government, which answers to the Crown of Béowyn, whilst the Aradian Knights answer to the theocratic branch, which in turn is answerable to the High Priesthood down in Stregheria. That’s how it’s been for the past eight thousand years. Since the Paladins don’t answer to the Crown, they see no reason to answer to the King’s Knights.”

¶I.

“I don’t care who answers to whom,” said Corrigan. “The Crown is gone, and our nation belongs to the Sovereignty. Until we have our Kingdom back, we’re all fighting on the same side. If I’m leading the battle like I was last week, I expect them to listen.”

¶I.

“Well, I’ll just have to order them to listen, now, won’t I?” Alyssandra said with a smile.

¶I.

“Who has the pipe?” said Llara.

¶I.

The four women then began searching around on the bed.

¶I.

“I do,” answered Kirsten, handing the pipe to Corrigan. “It’s hashed.”

¶I.

“Oh well,” said Corrigan, who then began loading another bowl.

¶I.

“I think I’ll pass,” Alyssandra declined. “I’ve already had quite a bit and I should really watch how much I smoke now that I’m toking for two.”

¶I.

“Oh my Gods!” Llara shouted, throwing her hands over her mouth as her eyes grew wide. “Oh my Gods, Alyssandra, I’m so happy for you!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the Witch. Alyssandra did not return the embrace, however, but merely sat, there silent, still, and detached.

¶I.

“What’s wrong?” asked Llara, withdrawing from the Priestess. Alyssandra’s head lowered, and her bloodshot eyes began to well with tears. “Oh,” said Llara, “Lodin....”

¶I.

Alyssandra nodded her head as she wiped a tear from her cheek. She then turned to Llara, her big brown eyes sodden with angst and woe as she faintly wept. “Yep. Lodin.”

Chapter 13
“Barrage”

13th Month, 20th Day, VII 4632

¶I.

Lodin and Gail sat at the far end of the freight car, each of them to their own bunk, facing each other with a small nightstand between them, and upon it a brightly burning lantern.

¶I.

Lodin sat upon his bunk, his chainmail cuirass, ___, and ___ having been removed, left with nothing but his aketon to cover his upper body. Before him he held the silver mirror Gail had bought as he felt his now smooth face, inspecting it carefully for any spots he might’ve missed.

¶I.

“Want your razor back?” asked Lodin, setting the mirror on the nightstand.

¶I.

“No,” said Gail, unfolding one of the linen robes she’d purchased from Jenessa, “I bought the razor for you. I don’t really have much need for a razor.”

¶I.

“You don’t shave your legs, or under your arms, or ... ah ... anything else?” the Paladin queried.

¶I.

“Don’t need to. The hair on my scalp, my eyebrows, and my eyelashes is the only hair I have anywhere on my body. I don’t even have any peach fuzz anywhere.”

¶I.

“You must take after your father, then,” Lodin concluded. “That’s definitely a Darkelf trait. Well, Elves in general, actually.”

¶I.

“True,” said Gail, “except that Jadia’s the same way, and she’s a pure-bred Human.”

¶I.

Lodin raised an eyebrow. “How do you know Jadia’s the same way?”

¶I.

“Because she told me, you pervert...” Gail replied with a merry grin. “What sort of incestuous trollop do you take me for?”

¶I.

“The sort that’s a half-Darkelven,” Lodin teased.

¶I.

“Trust me, Lodin, even if I wanted to -- which believe me, I wouldn’t -- Jadia would never go for that sort of thing.”

¶I.

“I know, I was only ragging.”

¶I.

“I know,” said Gail, smiling haughtily back at Lodin.

¶I.

The thief began to unlace the front of her bodice, but stood up and turned her back to Lodin before allowing him to see anything of interest. She removed the lace and set it down on the bed, and slowly she began removing her arms from the bell sleeves of the bodice and then peeled it from her torso, placing it over the laces on the bed.

¶I.

Gail then picked up the linen robe and tossed it over her shoulders, slipping dainty her arms into the sleeves.

/////////

¶I.

Lodin sat back and let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe I failed my mission.”

¶I.

“What do you mean?” said Gail.

¶I.

“The Grimoire of Chthonicus. I didn’t get it. All the Paladins who died, wiping out the Blackguards.... All of it was for nothing.”

¶I.

“The Grimoire of Chthonicus, huh? That wouldn’t be the same thing as ‘The Black Grimoire of Pope Chthonicus the Mage’, would it?”

¶I.

Lodin sat up suddenly. “The same, why?”

“Oh, no particular reason. It’s just that I happen to have a book by that title in my pack.”

¶I.

Lodin’s mouth hung ajar. “What? ... How? ... When?”

¶I.

“Under the temple, while you were unconscious for that couple of hours. You didn’t think I just stood there for all that time twiddling my thumbs, did you?” Gail then reached over to her backpack, unbuckled it, and pulled out a large, leather-bound book. “I don’t know how damaged it got when we swam through that tunnel, but it should be dried off by now.” Gail then opened the book in her lap and began examining it. “Huh,” she said, “the ink didn’t even run.”

¶I.

“Blood,” said Lodin.

¶I.

“What?”

¶I.

“In Chthonicus’s day, the Black Mages used Human blood, not ink.”

¶I.

“It’s written in the xaril alphabet. It looks like. I’m pretty sure it’s the former rather than the latter. Not that there’s much difference between the two anyway.

¶I.

Seems there’s a passage here about your new golem. It looks like a journal entry.”

¶I.

“Read it,” said Lodin.

¶I.

Gail, accordingly, began to read:

¶I.

“Unsatisfied with the nigh invincibility provided him by his invulnerable chthonium armor, Rha Kai Tan has tasked me with creating for him a guardian, a servant that even he himself cannot defeat. Consulting my volumes on demonology, I found but a single creature from the pits of Hell that could live up to such impossible expectations. Reference is made to him in the Necronomicon Ex Mortis. What’s that?”

¶I.

“That’s in the ancient Roman tongue,” said Lodin. “It means ‘The Book of Dead Names of the Dead’. It’s one of the more infamous grimoires.”

¶I.

Gail nodded her head and kept reading. “The demon’s name was Baelzathoth, the battle steed for Orobas, one of Lord Mortifer’s highest generals; a shapeshifting automaton forged from the chthonite ore churned up in the wake of Kur as the serpent burrowed through the deepest depths of Hell, and smithed by the Wraith of Sindri in the blackest flames of the Abussos. According to the Necronomicon, Baelzathoth, counted among the Telal despite his nature as both a steed and an automaton, had the ability to transform from a chthonium golem into a chthonium sleipnir with the powers of earth, a chthonium hippocampus with the powers of water, a chthonium cerapter with the powers of air, and a chthonium nightmare with the powers of fire. Furthermore, Baelzathoth could transform from a sleipnir to a giant chthonium Isidian, from a hippocampus to a great chthonium Triton, from a cerapter to huge chthonium Seraph, and from a nightmare to an enormous chthonium Fire Demon.

¶I.

“Then it goes on for a bit about Chthonicus’s attempts at summoning Baelzathoth, at least I think. Lots of diagrams and symbols,” said Gail, flipping through the pages. She then began reading once again:

¶I.

“When the steps were finally taken to evoke the demon from its abode in the depths of Hell, however, I was surprised to discover, by studying the Obsidian Scrolls of Infernes Magistus, that it was necessary to build an earthly vessel for it from iron. According to the scrolls, a demonic automaton cannot be summoned to manifest physically of any accord but that of its demonic master, and no necyomancer.... What’s a necyomancer?”

¶I.

“It’s sort of like a necromancer,” said Lodin, “except that a necyomancer works with demons rather than the dead.”

¶I.

Gail began reading again:

¶I.

“... No necyomancer can command it to do so against its master’s will. Essentially, then, this was to be a matter of pirating command of Baelzathoth away from Orobas, a very tricky feat indeed. So the demon was conjured to the material realm in his spiritual form, and trapped within an amulet while his iron body was being prepared. The wearer of the amulet at the time Baelzathoth is released will have the power to command him, and the breaking of the amulet will seal completely its wearer’s hold on the beast.

¶I.

“From this point, I began to ponder the evocation of Baelzathoth’s chthonium skin. I felt the most obvious starting point to be the rituals I employed to manifest Rha Kai Tan’s chthonium armor, and so I decided to consult the Key of Theophilus. This provided little help, as conjuring the chthonium armor of Mortifer’s Harbinger from Hell was possible, according to Theophilus, only because it was intended to be worn by the Harbinger in the material realm to begin with. It was then that the answer occurred to me. Rha Kai Tan’s armor was anchored to his spirit, and so it was his own spiritual energy that acted as the catalyst for the spellwork needed to draw his armor into the material realm in physical form. That meant that a similar process should work with Baelzathoth, as part of his being now floated ethereally and unanchored in the Underrealms. To check my hunch, I examined some of the more basic rituals contained within the Black Mage’s Codex and examined the referenced passages within the fifteenth through seventeenth volumes of the Infernal Sorceries Compendia, in order brush up on the more elementary aspects of demon-conjuring and anchoring, paying special attention to anything having to do with attractions of egregoric constructs such as tulpas and shoggoths, and how to anchor them to one’s own being, or to the being of that which the sorcerer wishes to affect. From there I’d need to invert the process, making the earthly manifestation of the demonic construct the attractor rather than the attracted, and make its disembodied ethereal aspect the target to be drawn to the attractor, thus anchoring one aspect of the automaton to the other of itself and drawing its whole being into the material realm. Such an inversion was hereto completely unheard-of and therefore decidedly hypothetical in nature. From this hypothesis, though, I now feel I can construct a working theory.

¶I.

“Firstly, I will need to prepare the iron vessel in such a way that it can be used as a sort of ‘poppet’ for Baelzathoth’s true skin. The only difficulty here is finding the appropriate taglock to spell the iron body into a true representation of the demon’s former shell. For this I should be able use the demon’s spirit itself, but this would mean performing most of the rituals in advance and preparing the vessel to be affected once the taglock is in place, only after the very spells and rituals that would typically follow. And a lot more symbols and diagrams....”

¶I.

Gail flipped a couple more pages. “I have thus accordingly prepared the demon’s iron vessel, performed the corresponding rituals and done all of the necessary spellwork. If my theories are correct, all that will now be needed to finish the process and fully evoke the demon’s whole being, after his awakening in the constructed body, is for the golem’s earthly master to recite the words, ‘lyblaca: galdorean hellerune, Baelzathothes chthonium liche’.”

¶I.

“That’s ludicrous,” said Lodin. “Alchemists have been attempting to convert lead into gold for millennia. I can’t believe all that’s necessary to transform Baelzathoth from an iron golem to a chthonite golem is just to say the words, ‘galdorian, hellarune Baelzathoth’s chthonian lyke’, or whatever it is, and --”

¶I.

“Lyblaca: galdorean hellerune, Baelzathothes chthonium liche,” Gail corrected. “According to this, Chthonicus had already done all the work, so it isn’t that those words are all that’s necessary, it’s that they’re the only step left. And they have to be said by the owner of the golem, otherwise I’m sure Chthonicus would’ve done it himself.”

¶I.

“So then why didn’t Kaitan just say the words?” Lodin argued.

¶I.

“Well the handwriting changes slightly in a few places. Looks like it might’ve been written over a period of several years. Kaitan could’ve easily died before the golem was ready.”

¶I.

“What were those words again?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Lyblaca: galdorean hellerune, Baelzathothes chthonium liche,” answered Gail.

¶I.

“‘Lyblaca, galdorean hellerune, Baelzathothes chthonium liche’?”

¶I.

Then with those words uttered came the familiar moans of creaking, popping sheets of iron were heard. Lodin and Gail stared at one another, their eyes wide as Gail tucked the book under her arm. In unison they sprang to their feet and dove for the door. Together they fumbled with the door and pulled it open, and into the darkness of night they peered.

¶I.

Outside the freight car stood Baelzathoth, once again shrouded by swirling black smoke, his luminous red eyes radiating through the livid pall. Flashes of crimson lightening burst erratically from beneath the shadowy fog that enveloped his body, as the same red lights flickered in the clouds above.

¶I.

There Baelzathoth stood as the majority of the smoke cleared, with the same burning red eyes and in what appeared to be his anthropomorphic form, yet now with a glimmering, metallic-black skin. Protruding from the golem’s forehead now were two long, upward curving spikes in the shape of a bull’s horns, and two more like it, but longer and thicker, protruding outward, then forward and downward from each side of the skull-like head. A curling, ram-like horn wrapped around each of this second pair of horns before jutting straight upward, and a row of spikes adorned the skull itself, starting above the brow and tapering off near the base aft. All over the golem’s body spikes obtruded like daggers, and wicked talons now tipped the fingers of his gauntlet-hands. Thick black smoke still poured upward from the violently glowing red orbs that sat in the golem’s eye sockets, and light wisps of this same obsidian vapor arose from all over his body, and would continue to do so without indication of end.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth, transform into a cerapter,” Lodin commanded.

¶I.

The golem stood there, motionless.

¶I.

Gail took the book from under her arm, opened it, and began flipping through the pages.

¶I.

“According to the book, Baelzathoth won’t transform unless you’re in trouble,” Gail explained. “Otherwise, if you must have him transform, you’ll need to say the words: ‘imperito tu me ex aeros’.”

¶I.

Lodin nodded his head. “Baelzathoth, imperito tu me ex aeros!”

¶I.

Just then a burst of flames erupted from Baelzathoth, dissipating in a mere heartbeat, instantaneously leaving in their wake a shining, metallic-black version of Baelzathoth’s cerapter morph, this one with the two sets of horns that protruded from the sides of the anthropomorphic form’s skull, and one large, single horn projecting from between his eyes. In this form he lacked the row of spikes that his more manlike form possessed, but instead retained the same mane and tail of tightly-linked, almost threadlike chains that the iron cerapter had -- only these composed of chthonite.

¶I.

“Awesome,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Now, how do I get him to transform into the Fire Demon?”

¶I.

“Just say, ‘imperito tu me ex inferis’,” replied Gail.

¶I.

Lodin nodded again and turned to Baelzathoth. “Imperito tu me ex inferis!” he commanded.

¶I.

Nothing happened.

¶I.

“Why didn’t it work?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

Gail flipped a few pages back in the grimoire, “...could transform from a sleipnir to a large chthonium Isidian, from a hippocampus to a great chthonium Triton, from a cerapter to huge chthonium Seraph, and from a nightmare to an enormous chthonium Fire Demon.”

¶I.

“In other words, I have to change him back into his original form, then into a nightmare, and then into a Fire Demon?”

¶I.

Gail nodded. “That’s what the book seems to say.”

¶I.

“Well since we’ve already got him in cerapter form, what do I say to turn him into the Seraph?”

¶I.

Gail flipped to the page she was on before. “It’s ‘imperito tu me ex aetheris’.”

¶I.

“Imperito tu me ex aetheris!” Lodin commanded the golem.

¶I.

Then, there, in the midst of the blanketing darkness cast upon the field by the clouded night sky, Baelzathoth once more began to change. With a burst of flame he transformed just as he had moments ago, and as the flames faded there stood Baelzathoth, in his chthonite Seraph form. Now he was a bit more slender compared to his anthropomorphic form, though not greatly so, and noticeably taller. His head adorned with the same two sets of horns that were upon the cerapter, but lacking the horn of the forehead, the Seraph possessed flowing locks and a long goatee of thread-like chthonite chains similar to those that made up the mane and tail of his equine predecessor. Upon his back stayed a huge pair of chthonite-feathered wings, not at all unlike those of the cerapter, and gripped within his great right gauntlet was the chthonite hilt of a sword, and from it came a blade shrouded in a reeling tempest of shadowy mist. These mentions aside, the chthonite Seraph was otherwise no different than the golem’s anthropomorphic form.

¶I.

“Okay, so how do I transform him back into his normal form?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

“Hodie recursum tu,” answered Gail.

¶I.

“Hodie recursum tu,” Lodin repeated, and Baelzathoth returned to the form he was in when first he’d been transformed to chthonite. “And now the nightmare form?”

¶I.

“Imperito tu me ex pyros,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Baelzathoth,” said Lodin, “imperito tu me ex pyros!”

¶I.

Again the golem was consumed in fleeting by an eruption of fire, and again he was left in an equine form when the flames subsided. This equine form had the same two sets of horns as the cerapter, but lacked the horn that jutted from its forehead. This chthonite nightmare, as its iron form, had neither the wings nor chain link mane of the cerapter, but had a mane and tail composed completely of roaring fire.

¶I.

Lodin smirked confidently. “Imperito tu me ex inferis!”

¶I.

The flames of Baelzathoth’s mane and tale rose high into the air, and violently the golem was once more enveloped in flame. But the flames did not dispel, and within the firestorm Lodin and Gail could see that Baelzathoth had already transformed. He now resembled his normal chthonite morph, but was taller and more robust in shape. Even hunched over ghoulishly as he was, his stature was noticeably greater. His lower jaw had elongated, and his teeth had become as long and sharp as cleavers, and he possessed the same three sets of horns and row of spikes upon his skull that he had in his anthropomorphic form. Upon his back there was an expansive pair of bat-like wings, and like the iron Fire Demon he’d transformed into before, his legs had been altered to rest at the top of elongated, unguligrade feet with stout yet immense cloven hooves. His long, whip-like tail thrashed about, and his wings swayed fore and back as he stood. Nearly shrouded in the conflagration that blazed from every joint in his chthonite exoskeleton, his glowing red eyes were now black in contrast to the brightness of the fires that consumed him.

¶I.

“Hodie recursum tu,” said Lodin, and in a surge of fire the golem reverted to his initial chthonite shape. “What do I say to change him into the hippocampus?”

¶I.

“You’re going to wear your golem out,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Just tell me....”

¶I.

“Okay, okay. But don’t start barking at me if it breaks. The words are ‘imperito tu me ex hydros’.”

¶I.

“Imperito tu me ex hydros!” the Paladin shouted.

¶I.

Another explosion of fire, and another transmutation into an equine form with rubescent eyes. This one was nearly identical to the cerapter, except that it lacked any horns, its wings now looked more like great fins, and it had a thick, snakelike tail extending behind it for over thirty cubits in place of its hind legs. The last several feet of his tail sported long, flat, rearward curving spines that together formed a horizontal flank in the shape of a huge diamond with slightly rounded sides.

¶I.

“And the Triton?” asked Lodin.

¶I.

Gail rolled her eyes with a bit of a smirk on her face, inwardly laughing at Lodin’s enthusiasm. “Imperito tu me ex maris,” she said with a whimsical sigh.

¶I.

Lodin turned back to face Baelzathoth and exclaimed, “Imperito tu me ex maris!”

¶I.

And in his now usual manner the golem metamorphosed into a huge chthonite Triton. This form resembled his normal, anthropomorphic one, but lacked its legs, having instead the same long, snakelike tail of the hippocampus, with the same distinctly un-Triton-like, diamond-shaped flank. Baelzathoth now also lacked the horns and spikes of his normal morph, except for fin-like structures made up of flat, curving spikes not unlike those at the end of his tail, protruding from each forearm. This form also had the same mane and goatee of hair-like chthonite chains as the Seraph, and held a great chthonite trident in its hands.

¶I.

“Hodie recursum tu!” Lodin commanded, and in a fierce blaze the golem returned to his basic form.

¶I.

“I don’t see why you need to try all these out right now,” said Gail. “We do have the book. It isn’t as if we don’t have plenty of time to see all of these.”

¶I.

“C’mon, there’s only two left,” Lodin pleaded, looking to Gail.

¶I.

“Alright. To change him into a sleipnir, say the words, ‘imperito tu me ex geos’.”

¶I.

Lodin smiled and turned back to his golem. “Imperito tu me ex geos!”

¶I.

Baelzathoth went through yet another fiery alteration, transforming into yet another equine form, this one a sleipnir. It closely resembled the cerapter form, but had a row of spikes descending along the length of its neck, from greatest in size to least, starting with the horn on its forehead. It had no mane nor tail, and had eight long legs. Each leg was jointed like that of the foreleg of a horse, completed at each end by terminating in a hoof. Yet the legs were articulated in a sprawling position, and proportioned in such a way that they seemed nearly identical to the long, spindly pilings of a spider.

¶I.

“Now, what do I say to transform him into the Isidian?”

¶I.

“Imperito tu me ex terrenis,” said Gail.

¶I.

“Imperito tu me ex terrenis, Baelzathoth!” the Paladin bid.

¶I.

With another surging, fiery roar, the golem yet again transformed. This time, Baelzathoth had been altered into something not wholly unlike a Centaur, with what would be the Centaur’s Human portions like that of the golem’s anthropomorphic form, and with what would be the Centaur’s horse portions like that of an gargantuan chthonite scorpion. The torso rose out of the scorpion’s head, just above its pinchers, leaving a blank area where the torso’s groin overlapped with the area of the scorpion’s mouth. Just as the previous forms, the chthonite Isidian had the same light wisps of black smoke arising from its metallic black exoskeleton, and had the same glowing red eyes, emitting from them the same fountain of crimson black smoke. In it’s massive gauntlet hand, the Isidian held a huge, shimmering chthonite morning star, adorned with the most dire chthonite spikes.

¶I.

“Hodie recursum tu!” Lodin ordered, and Baelzathoth reverted to his anthropomorphic form in an eruption of fire.

¶I.

//////////////////

¶I.

There was something familiar about these beasts of burden to Lodin’s mind. He’d seen this sort of creature before, in one of Alyssandra’s books. It was a pseudo-avian beast from Sauria, known to laymen as “the Leviathan”, or amongst the scholars as Styracosaurus albetensis.

¶I.

Aside from these “common” leviathans, there was another sort. This second variety had a larger, bonier frill with only small horns protruding from its edge. The horn growing just above its beak was somewhat smaller, and it had two large, spear-like horns growing from its forehead. This second type was Triceratops horridus -- the three-horned leviathan.

¶I.

Upon each common leviathan’s back there was a single Varanid mounted, and an Eremyte mounted upon the back of each of the three-horned variety.

¶I.

In addition to the common and three-horned leviathans, there was a third kind. This type was known as the “dwarf leviathan”, or Protoceratops, and upon the back of each such creature sat a Slithard.

///////////

¶I.

Lodin

Lodin strapped the small, tight-fitting bevor to his chin, followed by the chain aventail to cover his neck and shoulders. The aventail attached to the bevor in front and to the straps at the back of his head, forming a sort of topless coif that fit snugly around his neck. He then attached the gussets to the sleeves of his aketon using the arming points, took up the cuirass, and placed it over his head, clasping the breastplate and backplate together securely. Next he slipped the chainmail chausses over his legs, attaching them to his aketon’s arming points as well. Lodin then grabbed the sabatons, noticing that each had a long spike atop the toecap, and slipped them onto his feet. Following that was a pair of shynbalds, with even larger upward curving spikes to protect the shins. After securing the shynbalds to the chausses, he put on the poleyns, which were also adorned in upward curving spikes. Lodin then attached the bluntly spiked cuisses plates to his thighs. Next came the munnions and laminated pauldrons which he strapped to the gussets that covered his arms and shoulders, followed by a broad gorget which fit over his cuirass and pauldrons, adorned by a row of inward curving spikes, the outermost of which must’ve been nine inches long or more, the innermost being less than half of that size. Lodin then attached the waist lames under the cuirass, the gaurde-reins to protect his buttocks, and a pair of rerebraces equipped with large, upward curving spikes to protect his upper arms. Lodin quickly tied his hair back in a ponytail, as he thought it prudent to do so before putting on the gauntlets. Elbow gauntlets, covering his lower arms entirely, complete with individually laminated fingers, tipped with talons, and two long, blade-like gadlings attached to the back of each hand. Lodin examined the armor’s codpiece, and although it would’ve left plenty of room to spare on even the most ‘gifted’ man, it was still a bit too small for Lodin. Nevertheless, Lodin managed to squeeze himself into it, albeit uncomfortably.

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Finally, after having armored himself almost entirely, Lodin came back to that awesome barbut helm, with its t-shaped opening in the front, its comb of backward-curving spikes, and its pair of massive, ram-like horns.

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Lodin moved around a bit, surprised that the armor made absolutely no sound whatsoever. He bent and twisted in every direction, finding that the armor caused almost no restriction. Even as he wiggled his fingers it seemed nearly as though he wasn’t wearing any armor at all.

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The Paladin looked himself over, briefly, making sure all of the charnels and stop ribs were in place. Aside from the part of his face exposed by the t-shape opening in the helm, he was without a single inch of vulnerability upon his entire being, completely harnessed in the full plate of Rha Kai Tan’s armor, covered from head to toe in indestructible chthonite.

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He stood to his feet, and then began scanning the car’s interior for the chthonite shield and glaive.

Chapter 14
“Decamping”

13th Month, 21st Day, VII 4632

Chapter 15
“Bay City”

13th Month, 21st Day, VII 4632

Chapter 16
“The Victors”

13th Month, 21st Day, VII 4632

Chapter 17
“Day Break”

13th Month, 22nd Day, VII 4632

“Still bleeding?” William asked.

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William and Rylen sat in the bowels of Béowyn Palace, practically in its sewer, listening to the steady flow of water just on the other side of the wall. They were alone, sitting on a bench within the confines of an iron cell in the depths of the dungeon of Béowyn Palace, watching rats scurry through the other, empty cells; watching them crawl over the skeletons of prisoners past. The overwhelming stink of fecal matter colliding in their nostrils with the inert pong of rancid corpses long-since rotted away, it was difficult for them not to gag. Though after two days, it was beginning to become tolerable.

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“I got stabbed in the leg three times,” said Riley, “And not even with a nice sharp blade, but with jagged stone spearheads. Of course I’m still bleeding. I’d be surprised if I could still walk at this point.”

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“Bleeding a lot?” William queried.

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“No, not anymore,” said Riley. “But I think I’m feverish. If we don’t find some way out of here soon, I’ll die from blood poisoning.”

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“Do you have a stomach ache?” said William.

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“No,” replied Riley.

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“Think you can fake one?” William asked, raising an eyebrow at the sickly half-elf sitting next to him on the bench.

///////////

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William grabbed the blackguard’s wrist and pulled his arm through the bars.

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“What are you doing?” the guard shouted.

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William didn’t answer, he simply reared his head back and let out a deafening Ogren roar as he continued to pull on the man’s arm. The half-Ogre kept pulling until the blackguard’s steel gorget and helmet gave way, crushing his skull, his ribs, his pelvis, as William jerked him through the bars and flung his now lifeless body against the stony cell wall. So completely pulverized was the blackguard’s body from being squeezed through the bars that it actually stuck to the wall for a moment, before falling to the ground with a slapping sound reminiscent of a wet rug, accompanied by the clang of his armor against the dungeon floor.

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William panted heavily, staring down at the flattened blackguard as he whiped the sweat from his brow.

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“That was a lot harder than I thought it’d be,” said the fatigued half-ogre, laughing slightly.

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Riley looked at William, somewhat bewildered.

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“Are you sure you’re only a half-ogre?” he asked.

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“Yeah, why?” said William, a puzzled look on his face as he stood hunched over, with his hands resting above his knees.

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“I’d hate to see what a full-blooded ogre could do,” said Riley.

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“Well,” said William, “a full-blooded ogre could’ve probably just bent the bars like I was trying to do all day yesterday. But at least we got the keys.”

¶I.

“So let’s get the hell outta here,” said Riley, standing shakily to his feet.

Chapter 18
“The Competition”

13th Month, 22nd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 19
“Departing”

13th Month, 22nd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 20
“Round Two”

13th Month, 22nd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 21
“The Chase”

13th Month, 22nd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 22
“The Seduction”

13th Month, 22nd Night, VII 4632

Chapter 23
“Sterling”

13th Month, 22nd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 24
“Encounter”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 25
“Candleton”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 26
“The Dragonslayer”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 27
“Jail Break”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 28
“The Ruins of Wartok’nor”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 29
“Den of the Fafnir”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 30
“Hathor”

13th Month, 23rd Day, VII 4632

Chapter 31
“The Arrival”

13th Month, 24th Day, VII 4632

Chapter 32
“Contiguity”

13th Month, 24th Day, VII 4632

Chapter 33
“Scavengers”

13th Month, 25th Day, VII 4632

Chapter 32
“Confrontation”

13th Month, 25th Day, VII 4632

Contents

Temptations of a Paladin

The Story of Kha Lo Din

Copyright © 2002-2017 by Dustin Jon Scott [Last Update: June 24th, 2017]

Introduction

Hemegesis Beta (Επυλλιον Βητα) §β: Imegesis

Chapter I“Lamentations”

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Chapter II“Road to Necropolis”

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Copyright © 2002-2017 by Dustin Jon Scott
[Last Update: June 24^th, 2017]

Hemegesis Beta (Επυλλιον Βητα)
§β: Imegesis

Chapter I
“Lamentations”

Chapter II
“Road to Necropolis”

Chapter III
“Hell’s Tempest”

Chapter IV
“The Temptation”