'The fervent blowing of the snow upon the mountain peak, bleak and desolate, a far cry from those living in the Realm below. Cold and harsh were the winds, and bitter was the chill that remained year after year. Denied was the tender warmth of the sun, held at bay like a pack of hungry wolves by the endless rolling of gray clouds.

It was here upon the nameless mount that a long forgotten keep, the names of those who had built it lost amid the passing of seasons, lay partially buried under the snow. The stones black against the winter white, the once mighty walls that had been undefeated by war, now peaked out from their frozen prison. Broken and crooked fingers pointed accusingly to the sky in silent torment of the bleached land that surrounded them.

Not all of the keep had fallen to the test of time. A large tower stood, a testament to those artisans that had toiled under bitter conditions. And it was upon those winding stone steps that led to its perch, a large circular room could be found. A lone window frosted over, but still not enough to keep a faint glow of light from illuminating what lay inside.

It was here among great portraits of battles won, of victorious champions standing bloody but unbowed, that a throne carved from a great block of black marble resided. Here, within the hallowed halls and silent whispers of time lost, sat a massive figure.

Uncut long black mane curtaining down over broad muscled shoulders hid the face of the head bowed. Bare of skin except that of a fur loincloth and tethered sandals, the rise and fall of life could barely be seen. The man-child sat like a king, strong fingers curled around the end of the armrests like large spidery legs in the throws of death.

For untold years he had been undisturbed. Left alone. And rightly so. For the distant rumblings and the far-and-away dark memories of the 'Bleak War' had long since been forgotten. Put away like the playthings of a boy long since having grown into adulthood. A rest that had gone undisturbed....

....but in the dark recesses of his mind, something stirred. A distant sound that caused his even breathing to catch. A deep intake of breath taken sending hungry mice to scurry in all directions, eager to hide.

They knew.

A rumbling of siege engines, and the thudding twang of catapults interrupted his intoxicating feeling of peace. From a far distance, a place in which he could not fathom, his name was called. Within the deep recesses of his mind, the man-child heard. A voice familiar beckoned.

Anger surged like a violent sea, a tempest wind that cared not what damage it would do. A resting hand came awake, moving with reassurance to that which lay over his corded thighs. Strong fingers curled around the thick wooden haft of a immense curved double bladed axe.

The bowed head slowly began to rise, eyes blacker than that of a open grave, slowly came awake. He knew the voice and found in it distaste of having been disturbed. He had been called from his slumber and there would be a heavy price to be paid for the intrusion.

So be it.

Rising to his full height, the very air seemed to still as if the winter landscape waited. At the base of the throne in which he had been seated, a hand reached down to retrieve from the cold stone floor a silver horned helm. Dented and faded by the passing of ages, it was righted upon his head.

Set loose from his mountain keep, the man-child braved the cold, footfalls lumbering through the knee high deep snow. As he faded from view, the wind began to howl bringing with it the heavy fall of a winter snow. It would take time to get to where he was going.

But once he did, there would come bedlam and carnage. There would come the pleading of the fearing and the cries of the dying. Yes, a price would be extracted for being rousted from his sleep. Even as he vanished from sight, he heard his name called and he remembered.....

'Masu, the legendary Man Of the Axe'.

And he had been set free to walk the Realm of the living.

Again.

Gentle whispers of a howling wind surrounded the camp of three. The veil threatened it's release of the dark creatures it held back. The Veil in which Jaxe, Timber, and Mira were already behind.

Tearing her eyes from the eerie portal she turned her chocolate stare at the dwarf who stirred. For a moment both looked upon the frustrated Brindle before the ranger slowly stood from her place only to encounter a sensation she was slowly growing accustom to. Plunged back into a pain that tore not only at her physical being but at her spiritual. It was no ordinary pain but death?s threatening grip to prove to her that this time she would not so easily escape it's call.

Calvidor's words echoed in her mind as she looked towards to the skies, observing the lingering shadows of who knows what. "Why do you give your life for someone who you barely know" Why do you give your life for a human child who probably won't even remember you? Why do you travel with humans who push you even while you are wounded? They don't trust you nor care.."

Why indeed...

But he knew the answer. In many kingdoms she held the old code. Sworn to valor. A heart that knows only virtue. A blade that defends the weak. A might that upholds the helpless. Words that speak only truth. Wrath undoes the wicked. That is the code of their lives..

It was a code that seemed to be dying quite swiftly in this time and age. Which is why Calvidor was so confused as to why this skilled woman would so readily give up her life. But he also knew that in many kingdoms she strolled the streets as a proud knight. It was in many kingdoms that she lived as a guardian of life. In Eriador especially where her skills landed her in the position of First Knight under the great queen. Eriador's who's lands now laid ruin thanks to the king's sibling who took his place after he died at war.

The lands now laid untouched by hands of any race, nature's grasp having flooded over that which was once war ridden lands. A splendor that now only the elven that once resided in Eriador now watched over, waiting for their rightful queen to return.

They were not pleased she brought strangers to the lands but rest is what they had needed and peaceful rest at that. She still struggled with it but in the end she still saw Mira's capture as her own fault. She should of kept a better eye on the child. On the area. No. She shouldn't of even brought them there...

Her lips curved into a frown as her eyes lowered and silently she strolled from the campfire. Whispered steps were nothing but shadows upon the ground as the ranger walked a parameter around the campsite and her companions that were in rest.

In time she would have to pull Brindle aside to let the elder man know..to know that once this quest was over that they would be leaving one person short..

~ The voices were inaudible as he stepped from the shadows. The tunnels were of old time and had resisted the light. Of black rock and jagged, the ground itself was hazardous as each cautious step was taken. The popping and hissing of bracketed torches illuminated the way deeper into the mountainous regions of the Jagged Peaks.

Managing to slip past those that waited in the darkness near the Veil Jaxe, a silhouette himself, pressed tightly against the wall. There was no mistaking the foul smell wafting from the lower levels. The further he went the more distasteful the venture. Still Mira was here somewhere but the question begged,was she was still alive?

Soon he found himself at a crossroad. One direction heading off to the left the other heading off to the right. Dropping into a crouch he placed a finger to the hard earth, gray eyes measuring the tracks that led off toward the east. Without a sound he made his way ivory hilt daggers drawn.

Halfway during his descent he heard a sound heavy and resonate against the ground. Eyes narrowed, he found the shadows and waited. Soon within the russet glow of flames a large shape took form. On all fours it came, reptilian head low, a long body on short legs it sluggishly made its way up from the depths.

Eyes black as pitch gazed unblinkingly. Jaxe slowed his breathing, the knives adjusted in his hands measuring their balance. He hadn't seen a Blood Hunter' since the Bleak War. They usually traveled in packs, but this one was large, one that led.

The tunnel was wide enough. The hunter was near the furthest wall, not known much for smell but it's eyesight was beyond reproach. One had to stand perfectly still. It came on, the long tail propelling its impressive weight. Jaxe held his breath. The ground beneath him reverberating with each step as it grew larger the closer it came. It was abreast of him, the skin knotted and brown in color. It thundered past without so much as a look in his direction, the shadows having done him a service. He watched it as it disappeared from view. Without a second glance he crept quickly along now knowing that the path he took was the correct one.

Soon the tunnel's corridor began to widen and in doing so, at the furthest end, was a closed wooden door. Made of heavy timber no doubt taken from the many dead trees dotted along the peaks, It stood tall and foreboding. Placing a ear against it he listened.

Nothing could be heard. One knife was slipped within his black shirt, the hand now free eagerly testing the worn steel handle. It gave way easily. Pushing open the door just enough to squeeze through, he scanned the interior. It was a large circular room, the ceiling high enough to be painted in shadows. Banners of dark purple lined the walls, and in the center of the room was a metal cage.

Inside something moved. A sound of muffled crying followed by deep sobs cut through the silence. There was the flickering of torchlight, the orange and red flames casting dancing shadows against the walls. Jaxe let his eyesight adjust to the gloom. With swift movements he came nearer the cage stopping a short distance away.

It was Mira.

A low whistle brought her soft crying to a end. She stirred, at first reluctantly. Through the strands of black hair that curtained her eyes, she gazed at him as if she were dreaming. Her cheeks stained by tears, she was about to speak but he quickly placed a finger to his lips. A shake of his head as he came close.

In his lifetime there had been little to care about. But here at this moment, in someway, he felt his life complete. She had come to be the ONLY person he could trust. In the darkness that comprised his life, for the first time he felt a warmth inside.

So this is what love felt like.

He'd come to be protective of the girl though not his own, but she had shown great courage during the Bleak War. Not understanding much then, she was now older. And he knew how much she cared for him. Showing the thinnest of a smiles, he reached in hand cradling her chin in reassurance. But there was little mistaking the look of horror in her eyes.

In all this he knew that his journey here had been much too easy. Discarding what it could mean, he moved around to the cage door. It was unlocked. Without pausing he threw it open and swept Mira up from where she lay. Just as he did so, from behind the banners, movement. The room suddenly came alive with heavy grunting and deep growls.

From the ceiling came the shrill sound of a 'Scrull'. The leathery flapping of it's wings sending it hurtling down from the darkness above.

"Jaxe!" Mira's voice was urgent as a Reaper' stepped in from the shadows. It's expression was one of delight, the mouth revealing rows of sharp teeth as it swayed back and forth on it's haunches the pain of hunger driving it to madness. A 'Blood Hunter' moved from a darkened alcove, the black forked tongue testing the air finding it tainted with new blood.

There would be little time. He set Mira down his focus now on what must be done. They would not seek her out but seek out the threat. And he was that threat. Jaxe slowed his breathing, the world around him orbiting as he spread his arms holding the long knives. Razor sharp, the edges glinted wickedly against the backdrop of torches.

In that moment he found what he'd been looking for. For years he had yet to find his equal, but here, three of the most deadliest of the Dark Horde now circled. As he turned he watched them one at a time. There was no mistaking the look of conquest, the look of victory, that each carried.

Mira's eyes radiated fear. They had taken her prisoner, tormented her at every turn. And now she stood staring at death. Jaxe had come to her aid, but it was a trap. She had seen him do the impossible, but this! She stood unable to move, her muscles would not obey her mind as they urged her to run.

The Reaper came at her. It's bark of madness ending the tense silence as muscled long arms catapulted it across the floor. Mira screamed just as something black streaked past....

....Timber, all teeth and power, crashed into the Reaper sending it backward. The swampcat hissed a warning, its yellow eyes narrowed as it's muzzle drew back. Jaxe hadn't forgotten about the cat. The rare creature able to blend in perfectly with it's surroundings had been following him all the time.

"Mira, leave now."

Her voice rang out in a plea even as the Reaper righted itself, a howl of glee sent skyward. Pink skin bulged as cords of sinew underneath flexed. "Jaxe....no! We have to hurry!" Her eyes wide even as Timber came to stand in front of her protectively, his head lowered as he prepared himself for the Reaper's next charge.

From up above the Scrull swooped down, it's lithe form reaching with talons made for slashing flesh from bone. Jaxe heard and spun the dance of Death as blades sliced through its forearm and thigh. It cried out in pain swinging back up into the embrace of the darkness.

"Your grandfather waits for you." In that quick moment he looked at her, eyes soft. "I will follow." The Blood Hunter sprung forward, the very floor sent shaking from its charge. The armsmaster dove to his right even as its putrid breath swept over him. Rolling over he came quickly into a defensive crouch.

A meaningful look was sent in Timber's direction, a unspoken command that the he understood. The swampcat began nudging Mira to the door with it's nose all the while cautiously watching the Reaper. He'd never broken his promise to her and with that knowledge she turned and ran as fast she could.

The Blood Hunter's charge sent it past Jaxe, the heavy weight refusing to slow even as it tried to stop. The large body hit the wall sending down a rain of dust and debris. It rolled onto it's side and with great effort stood once more. Instantly Jaxe sprang forward, his steps fluid as he darted past the Reaper, the twin blades slicing along it's stomach.

It roared, raking claws collecting nothing but air. It was as he hoped, a distraction. He caught sight of Mira and the cat moving out through the doorway. Turning, he faced those that hunted, his expression flat. Spinning, he was soon followed by the furious and desperate sounds of pursuit.

Having taking rest near a tree she had found herself slipping off into some sort of repose, neither awake nor asleep but simply resting outside of the campsite. Shaking her head both from memories of old and the tiredness that was trying to consume her. Pushing from the tree she resumed her rounds. Slipping in and out of shadows as if she were one among them she was keeping both distance and closeness to the group that waited for Jaxe, Mira, and Timber's return.

Step faltering she took lean against a tree, head lowered between her shoulders as a great searing pain caused her hawk-like vision to blur. It felt like dozens of cold talons grasping and pulling at her flesh in attempts to pull her apart. Time was growing short and the coppery taste in her mouth was sure sign of it. Rolling her tongue and head tilted she spat out. Chocolate eyes found blood staining the ground were she had spat at, black earth mingled with the vital. Entirely too short..

"Jaxe..hurry it up.."

Muscles curled when she heard her name shouted and without second thought she sped in hurry towards the camp. Like a breeze she passed through the brush and treeline. Swords sung out like whistling winds as she caught sight first of Mira then Timber who seemed to be in struggle with a large insect-like creature. She tore past Brindle and Sirhan alike, low to the ground and with swords angled for ready. As she came close to Timber and his trouble both feet pressed into the ground and she swept up like a hawk taking to the air. Left sword sung out to remove the creature's outstretched wing in single thrust. Since it was thin it didn't take much from the sharpened blade.

Body twisted like that of a cat in the air she used the force of momentum to redirect her fall onto so that she might strike the creature while not hurting the swamp cat.

"Sirhan! Leave Mira in Brindle's care and come assist! And where the hell is Jaxe?!"

Upon landing the ranger stayed near the great cat, eyes scanning over him as swords were smoothly graced into their resting places. She would find some herbs with Brindle's help to tend the creature but not yet. They were entirely to close to the veil that was waning. Lips parted to agree with Sirhan but she found herself blinking at the grumbling Elder. He had mood swings like a pregnant woman!

Slowly her eyes swung to Mira. For but a brief moment gentleness strummed her chocolate gaze. She was glad to see the child safe. But..where was Jaxe? Worry of this answer began to fill her with dread at the worst possible scenario.

It would be the great beasts movement that drew her from her worry, eyes raised up and soon enough her bow evened out with an four-bladed arrow posed in deadly aim. Chocolate spheres stared at the man even as he took that demanding tone with her. She remained ever posed for strike and that deadly aim would not ease until she heard Mira's honey-dew voice. The child was familiar with this one and he seemed to be familiar with those present. Didn't mean she trusted him off bat. In fact the bow was lowered but her fingers remained clenched to the feathered end.

A set amount of moments and the hawk-like gaze finally tore from the newer person, her gaze seeking the veil in hopes to catch a glimpse of the weapon master's return. The bow's string finally relaxed completely and the arrow was shoved back into the quiver, bow sliding along her shoulder until it rested snug in place against her shoulder blade. Fingers worked quick to find a jar of healing salve from her pouch and she moved towards the great cat. Like it or not she was going to help with his wounds. She just hoped the beast understood this as the jar's lid was removed with a bit of struggle.

Time is growing short...

Feeling like an outsider was putting it lightly how she felt. While they congregated she silently worked on the feline's wounds. Even after the show of power she observed from the distance placed. This mage was watched closely though not given an inch of leeway. If he so much as sneezed funny she'd probably have another arrow trained on him.

It was only when they started speaking of Jaxe that her attention seemed to be captured. Lips parting she started to speak, demanding on tagging along with the mage to retrieve the weapon master. But she was silenced by the sudden tingle at the back of her throat. Lowering her head she raised a hand to her lips and immediately started coughing into her palm. Sharp, painful coughs tightened her lungs and she found her throat coated with that familiar coppery taste.

As the mage disappeared past the veil she turned away, rolling her tongue in frustration and soon spat out the blood collected by her tongue. Tilting her head she looked but didn't turn towards the group. "While we wait Sirhan you should bring Mira and Timber to rest by the fire. I need a moment to speak in private with Brindle."

Watching Mira for several minutes she finally stepped back with Brindle. With him close her head dipped down and her eyes slowly slipped closed. "I am glad she is back safe.."  Slowly her eyes opened and she turned to look at the elder. "I wish I could of aided more in bringing her back sooner to you." A flash of pain nipped at the back of her neck and for a brief moment the world went black. She pretended not to notice this and it would be hard to even tell she was momentary blind.

As her vision focused she exhaled slowly, looked back to the dwarven king and the young girl. "Brindle..I'm dying. I removed a seal while we were back in the elven city in order to have my fullest ability to save her. My time is dwindling fast but I swore I would not die until I saw her safely returned to you. Jaxe..already knows." Though at the time he was told he really didn't seem to care to listen. Or care in general.

She fell quiet, leaning her back to the tree not for support but in a moment of comfort. "When I feel the time is close I will slip off into the shadows so not to cause a problem. I will make sure noone notices when the time comes but I would like you to know it's been a privileged to fight along side Jaxe, yourself, and Sirhan. And I hope you will take care of precious Mira.."

She fell silent after dropping the bombshell worth of news on him. She had waited far too long she knew but at least Brindle listened. And listen he did. With the elder so close she knew he'd rather be with Mira then listen to whatever she had to say but then again he had that flicker of curiosity in his eyes. She knew before she even started talking he knew something was up. But to him..like everyone else there..she was but an outsider lending a hand. It was only till recently that they started to even trust her.

Was she anything more then just that' A helping hand? She couldn't really tell. They respected her for sure as a warrior and a person of skill but past that it was a good question. Jaxe's threat to kill her still stung true and deep. But it was because it came from him..the one who she originally gave up everything for..

She knew questions were to come. Or would of. Chocolate eyes blinked ever so slowly when the earth began to quiver beneath her feet. She could hear the loose pebbles chattering against the ground like a child's teeth on a freezing morning. Her eyes went to brindle then towards the others to make sure they had felt it as well.

It seemed she was not the only one who felt the tremor.

Turning her eyes then to the veil her lips parted to speak but before the ranger could utter a word the ground quaked violently. One hand shot out towards the tree to steady herself from bowling over the elder and yet at the same time her other hand moved to steady Brindle.

Earthquake" No it was something else. Where Brindle looked her hawk gaze was sure to follow and she frowned seeing the mountain side, for whatever reason, explode into debris. "Something's not right.."

And little did she know how right she was. Just after those words fell her lips she noticed the veil waver from the corner of her eyes. Turning attention with furrowed brows she prepared her bow for whatever seemed to be pushing past the veil. She found her bow steadied on the man before and her bow wavered upon seeing who was in his arms.

"No..." The single word was whispered. Goddamn it Jaxe you best not be dead..you aren't suppose to die. He was either severely wounded, unconscious, and/or dead. The first two she could hand and deal with. The last one...not so much.

"He's not dead is he?" Her voice finally found an octave that could be heard by others and was filled with emotion that the ranger normally kept under check. She drew back quickly after speaking it and found her tone. Though she knew it was a question that was on all of their minds. Jaxe was the sort of man that even though mortally wounded he would do his best to walk on his own two feet. Bold. Brave. And stubborn as hell!

So help me Jaxe..if you are dead I will bring your soul back to your body just so I can kick your rear before I pass.. Charming thought wasn't it?

Seeing the peaceful look upon Jaxe's face and she knew her answer. He had got what he wanted. Damned to him for being so selfish! Running off like that and getting himself killed. Did he not know the impact such a thing would have on Mira" Or the others that knew him deeply for that matter" She prayed that Mira would not connect his death with her escape else the child blame herself. Damn it, Jaxe. How could you.." How could you do this to everyone"

She was angry with him, dead body and all. And not for herself. No, she would not allow herself that luxury else she might break down into her own tears. She was angry for the pain that his death inflicted upon the others. People who knew him deeply and true.

I should of went with him despite his gunho wants. I should of just gone in after him..

"He has fought his last battle..." The words rattled in her head, almost going unacknowledged. As well as the man she had not been introduced to. Which lead her to question how it was that he knew her name" And the anger he showed, regardless to towards her or not, seemed to dance off of her like morning dew on a flowers petal. There was nothing there emotionally that could be torn apart more then it already was. And like a puppet called by it's master she followed after the man.

Even from a distance she heard Mira's cries begging at Jaxe to wake up. The sound was heart wrenching. It was a cry that her own heart begged in respond even if her features didn't show. Indeed her face and motions were like steel, showing nothing but cool and collective despite the sickness and now emotional wreck that she was. Soon the child's cries were out of earshot even for the ranger and soon enough her ache gave way to question as to why she was pulled away from the group. What could this man possibly have in need of her for"

It was in this silent wake she felt slightly alarmed feeling creep through her. A sensation she had not felt in years. The urge to soak the ground with vital and entrails in the name of revenge. To bathe in the blood of another. It was a sensation she quickly swallowed down and away for the last time such an event happened it's cost was her more then her sanity.

Focus drawn back to things at hand her chocolate gaze drifted up to the figure leading her to who knows where and to what means. She did not question him nor to their destination. Like the ranger she was..she was patient as she was calculative.

For the time that she knew Jaxe they shared something. An understanding of each other. Even though she thought that he didn't care there was still that understanding. Something that surpassed years of knowing. She didn't need to hear the stories and the fear that people had of the weaponmaster. It was a similarity they shared though her name was hardly well known as his within the realms he had traveled.

Resting in the arch of her bow she listened to the mage's words in silence and offering none in turn as she observed his tired form. Like a haunt she watched and listened. Yes a brief startled look when he said that Jaxe spoke fondly of her. Color her surprised in all truth and it did aid deeply into the pain that ached her heart at his loss.

A smug look took her face when he spoke of Jaxe taking down the creature with two knives. Really did he expect any less for Jaxe" But the look grew still and eventually crept into sadness. So that's why he did it. He played bait so that Mira and Timber could get away. Her eyes fell closed and tightened a moment to fend off the tears gathering on her lashes. He took it upon himself to protect Mira and the group by feeding himself to the horde. No. She knew better! No. He did it to find that one fight, that one battle..

Why couldn't she of been that battle" Not only in fight but of wit..of life..of everything.

At the last of his words her eyes opened to land on the ivory-hilted weapons held out to her and though her eyes steeled at the sight of them the tears she had been holding back began to roll down the smooth surface of her cheeks. Her bow was abandoned, the arch of wood tilting then falling to land on it's side on the ground at her feet. Both hands reached to take the weapons in grasp as if they were made for her palms alone. For a brief moment her tongue parted her lips, wetting the upper before disappearing back into her mouth.

"Thank you..I do request one thing. What you have told me...please do not tell to the others." Her eyes rose to the mage's eyes, her gaze glistening from the tears like chocolate steel. "I will not have Mira think that Jaxe died because of her. I will not have her blaming herself and living with guilt. It isn't her fault that he did what he had. It was his choice and we both know he did it in part to find that battle in which he longed for."

She grew silent, testing the weapons in her palms. For now they were slipped into place under her belt, kissing her bare flesh with their flat sides. Her bow was retrieved and clenched tightly. "Tell me what is needed of me now. I am sure Jaxe left some duty for me with his last breath. I wish it fulfilled before I am no longer able."

~ Zachery moved forward gloved fingers curling around Kaylin's shoulders in affirmation of his hope. But in that embrace, he felt sadness. His touch acknowledged his fears. She was sick, close enough so that Death waited with baited breath. Another soul to take away in the swallowing darkness. Did it ever end"

But the Hands of Fate could also be kind. Perhaps that kindness would reveal itself this time. It had seldom done so during the ravages of war.

There was little time for the warmth of a hearth or the lofting tune of a minstrel's lute. Happiness hid itself when the Realm was dangling on the edge of chaos. Zachery could only offer a tired smile of reassurance.

"You are correct in your assumption." His eyes held her own, his whisper lost to quiet surroundings of forest. "The battle has yet to begin and there are quests that still must be ventured and articles of great importance to be gathered. I ask you to travel with Sirhan back to Black Rock. Will you wait there until I send for you?"

Gently lifting her chin, he saw what he took for sadness, the glistening of tears held back bravely. Dark brown eyes seeing but yet unseeing. Somewhere deep within, the memories of Jaxe Blade were being kept alive as if willing him back to the living.

"Yes," the mage spoke quietly, suddenly detached from the reality of the moment, "he chose wisely."

The question that was still unanswered": Would she brave the task"

~

They moved quickly and quietly, shadows purposefully slipping nearer the glow of the small campfire. Sir Garland knelt protected by a large tree, his attention diverted between his men and what lay ahead. He was still trying to piece together all that had taken place in the days leading up to this moment...

Prince Arlin called a meeting of the High Counsel. The messenger that had come into the Hawk and Dove Tavern nearly ran through the door almost causing a startled serving woman to drop her tray before reaching his table breathing heavily. Hands on his knees, the boy was froth with exhasperation, his blue eyes large with the news.

"Sir Garland....the prince....he's called a meeting of...the High Counsel.!" All this while he pointed back the way he'd come. It indeed was a long run from the castle down to the lower quarter. Garland doubted that the lad had stopped long enough to catch his breath.

Surrounded by soldiers, the armsmaster set his tankard down and straightened the lad with a large calloused hand. "Calm yourself boy. Now then, you say the prince has called a meeting of the High Counsel?"

The youth nodded eagerly.

Patting the messenger on his back with a job well done, the commander of the Steel Lions' stood, those sitting with him doing likewise. All retrieved swords laying atop the long wooden table and settled them back into their sheaths.

A High Counsel meeting. He directed one of the soldiers to give a message to the Watchman. Keep a keen eye. To another he gave instructions to double the watch, but do so quietly. He'd not want the citizens of Armengar to notice the change. The order would be carried out when the curtain of night came calling.

Those within the tavern, though trying not to draw attention to themselves, had taken notice of the boy and his unwavering trek to Sir Garland's table. The sound of conversation had taken a noticeable downturn.

Garland realized this and turned his hard gaze upon those in the common room.

"Well?", he inquired with a deep no-nonsense voice.

The ebb and flow of conversation suddenly took on a hectic pace, patrons stumbling over one another to pick up where they'd left off. Allowing himself a brief chuckle, Garland made his way out the door, those sitting with him doing likewise.

A brief glance to the heavens showed blue skies free of clouds. He wondered if there would be more days like this one. A nod to those that stood in a semi-circle around him. Without a word his men made their way down the wide cobblestone street toward the great walls of the kingdom of Armengar.

He had a feeling that this moment of peace would be the last he would have in some time. Sighing, he made his way in the opposite direction toward the grand castle that stood like a beacon of hope upon the distant hill...

Chastising himself for the momentary lapse, he looked over his shoulder at those awaiting his order. Surprisingly, he saw them looking back from their places of cover, their eyes registering shock.

Then he felt the warmth on his neck.

Slowly turning his head, Sir Garland commander of the Steel Lions', suddenly found himself staring into the narrowed eyes of a large black cat.

And there would be no mistaking the deep growl and the pulled back muzzle revealing rows of sharp teeth.

Zachery Roe stood silent as he watched Kaylin depart. The nimbus light of blue above continued contently waiting for further instructions as it pulsed with a life. Draped as he was in his cloak, the Dark Mage slipped on his cowl, his face now hidden beneath the shadows.

There was no mistaking that she was a proud woman, the strength of her conviction as hard as steel. But would that be enough' She knew little of what was coming. Even he knew little, but what he did know...

In between time he felt the presence of others, and knew well the one leading them. So, the Old One was weaving threads of the past bringing them back to the present. A brief moment was given to those who had championed the Bleak War, and remembrance to those who had so courageously given their lives.

Sadly it would be so again. Was not the death of Jaxe Blade a beginning of sorrows"

The air had grown colder and the tempest of ominous days was growing near. A figure of solitude of a man who had many enemies and few he could call friends. He would have wished differently. Resigned to fate not of his choosing, Zachery snapped his fingers heralding in the night leaving behind only darkness.

~

His sleep was restless. Dreams tormented by insidious laughter. Duke Roland kicked out at unseen enemies, hands holding tightly onto his pillow as if it was his only saving grace. In the sweeping shadows of his room he startled awake, sitting up quickly straining to adjust his eyes to the gloom at the same time his hand grasping at his nightshirt finding it soaked. A nightmare.

Clumsily he reached for the oil lantern on his nightstand and froze, a foul odor sweeping through the room. He was a slender man by all accounts, his skin a dull pale color that seemed drained of life. In truth, he was a cruel and calculating man and this reflected in his eyes, black as raven's wing.

A sudden feeling of dread caused the small hairs on the back of his neck to rise. He was about to call out for the guard that was posted at the furthest end of the hall outside of his bedroom when he heard a voice as cold as the northern wind.

"There will be little need for the light."

Fear gripped at his heart as he pulled the covers up to his chest wringing them so tightly his knuckles turned white. Where the faded paleness of the moon struggled through the drawn curtains of the balcony doors, he saw a figure that had not been there before. A silhouette only, but even so, there was something ominous about it.

Slithering laughter filled the room as the voice spoke again. "Are you frightened duke" Good...very good."

"Who are you?" Duke Roland's voice came out as a croak, his eyes widening at the realization that someone had entered and a warning not given.

"Has it been that long" Have you forgotten?"

"I have not the time to play games!" Roland then remembered he was alone causing him to swallow the knot rising in his throat.

"Nor do we for the time grows short and the hunger of the Dark Horde rises with every moment that passes." There was something hollow about the voice, like that of desperation coming from the depths of a empty well.

It then dawned on him, what was standing a deathly touch away...

And he screamed.

She didn't really know if she could face burying Jaxe and in fact she couldn't even look at him. Though her lips closed her tongue moved, attempting to find words without seeming she was about to break down into tears. Which wasn't far from the truth. The pain was a deep ache that screamed to be released. A deep pain that was even far more painful then the death that tore through her at a slow crawl. "Sirhan..I will leave that to your care. I will see how Mira and Brindle is."

She was curious as to why it looked like Brindle was getting ready to leave. Was it that he knew of their leave even before she did" She didn't know of the words passed between Sirhan and Brindle. Before the dwarf could argue, or get her in some way to face the fact that Jaxe was truly dead, she moved with sharp steps towards Brindle.

Out of the corner of her gaze she watched Mira leave the side of Jaxe and a faint hint of smile tugged her lips. Mira was such a strong young girl. She would grow into a fine woman one day. The smile faded as she grew closer to Brindle, the elder used more or less as an excuse. There was still the problem of her sickness. The mage seemed to get the idea but should she verbally share it with Sirhan"

"Brindle..?" Her voice spoke light to gain the elders attention without spooking him. A slow blink when he all but barked at Timber and her gaze turned to the trees. "Do you think he's found trouble?"

Without waiting for an answer she started to wander off in order to find the swampcat. Mira needed the creature there with her. Even if the creature didn't trust her she would scold it to the child's side.

~The door to the counsel chamber opened dismissing the irritations of those sequestered as all eyes turned to regard those entering the room. Prince Talwen and two others that followed. Each were tall and slender, golden hair pulled back and tapered with a black leather band. There would no mistaking the almond shaped eyes or the ferocity of their green gaze as they gave measure to each man seated.

All those in attendance began to rise but was quickly dismissed by a 'no-need hand gesture from the prince.

"Please be seated."

Chairs were scooted close to the table and fingers interlocked while awaiting what word of this pressing need for the meeting. Rumors had run amok but few would give in to actually guessing. All knew that a call of the High Counsel consisted of planning and preparations for war. But there had been peace in the Realm. A patchwork of lands and kingdoms, of seas and islands, most still unknown to Armengar.

As far as the dwarven nation and the kingdom of Willow, a seamless thread of peace had come into existence. The rigors of the Bleak War had taken a toll and many had been comforted by the protective barrier of the Veil. Though not all. Sir Thaddas Garland had been one. Even in that fateful day as the army of the elves could be seen heading away from the battlefield carrying their dead, he'd shaken his head as a dark cloaked figure stood close by.

"We will be back," the armsmaster muttered, his body peppered in sweat and splotches of blood.

Zachery Roe remained silent, his visage as dark as the stains now covering the grasses. Through great pains he had imprisoned the Dark Horde. A massive shield that covered the entire breath and length of the Jagged Peaks. It had taken nearly all he had and at this moment, he felt closer to death than he had ever had. Garland's words hung in the air like the unbearable heat of the day, merciless and tinged with the coppery scent of spilled blood.

Truth be told, it was the Circle of the Rose that had brought about this madness. Men gifted, but with the gift came the beckoning fingers of power and greed. There were those that could not resist its soothing call and in doing so sought to gain rule over the Realm and those within its borders. That's when citizens began disappearing. Drunkards thieves and brawlers who began to mysteriously vanish from towns and villages.

Soon thereafter there were strange sightings at the falling of twilight. Then came the scenes of death on deserted streets and in various cities and countrysides. He himself having traveled to a distant land, upon his return and subsequent investigation, it dawned upon him what had taken place.

It was soon that his arrival back at the temple of the Circle' was greeted with hostility. The stone pillars shook with the engagement of battle. A mage war is not a desirous one. Not all had gone along with the maddening scheme. And those stood at his side as threads of power and weaving caused the ground to tremble. At it's ending, the mountains that had been a portrait of green grass and vibrate flowers shadowed by lush forests had been reduced to a wasteland.

The landscape had been transformed into desolation. The canopy of leaves were replaced by ghostly limbs of trees devoid of life. The ground now hard and unforgiving from the immense purging of power from those seeking the upper hand. At its conclusion, all of who remained from the Circle of the Rose was Zachery Roe. Bloody but unbowed he knew from that moment on that he would have to pay a penance for those who had created the nightmares that now roamed the Realm.

Though he wished it finished, deep down he knew the fact of the matter.

He could only hope that Garland's words would not be a precursor of things to come.

~

Brindle nearly jumped out his slippers when he heard Kaylin's voice. He turned, cheeks flushed as he flapped his arms in consternation.

"What are you trying to do' Kill me"! Don't you know not to sneak up on a old man like that?"

"Trouble?", he replied to answer to her question, "With him who knows..." Brindle watched as Kaylin didn't stay to listen. She saw Timber as well and heard him growl but both of them couldn't make out what all the fuss was about. White brows dipping in frustration, he followed not knowing what they would find, but the way things had been going of late, he doubted it would be good...



He dared not to move.

Sir Garland though would not break the locked gaze between he and the large cat. It's sleek black fur rippled with the threat to pounce should he flinch. He was a soldier and knew how to size up a opponent. And although he had his men at his back, he realized that their attempt at his rescue would surely be the cause his death.

He had broken his own rule. In a moment of uncertainty he'd let old memories and the recent turn of events lull him away from the moment and now he would likely pay for it with his life. Still, he kept his face a mere inches from the rows of sharp teeth that gleamed with purpose and deadly intent.

And in that instant he captured a sight out of the corner of his eye. It was one hard to believe. The appearance of a young woman as she dipped below a branch and came to stand with her hands on her hips. He could only imagine the look on her face. Nothing, he supposed, like his own.

Wonders never ceased to amaze him.

~ The prince took his seat at the head of the table shadowed by the two who followed. Studious eyes followed and the heat of their gaze was obvious. Questions yet unanswered were waiting to be forwarded. And they would continue to grow as Arlin gave a nod to the elf standing to his to his right.

A measured stride carried him out of the room. Many watched with curious glances. Then, a short time later came his his return and he did not come back empty handed. The prince reached out for the long angular box presented to him. Setting it upon the table he removed the lid and set it aside. Nearly all seated leaned forward. There were the few exceptions. Sir Garland's expression mirrored a man who had suddenly digested something bitter. Albrey LaMey sighed deeply accompanied by his fingers tightening on the edge of the table.

They knew.

They had played very important roles in the Bleak War.

For those others that had lived through the war, there had been the pressing need to forget. Should they not, there would be many sleepless nights. So even now they did not realize that the box they now examined from a distance was the exact duplicate of the one delivered when his father ruled as king.

The rolled parchment was gathered and held out for all to see. Prince Arlin then let his gaze circle the table wanting to make sure he had their attention, and indeed he did. There would no easy way to put it. The nightmares would become reality once more.

"This is a message sent from the Old One."

Shouts erupted from those seated. The room's crystal glasses nearly vibrated from the choruses of disbelief. Arlin sat back finding sanctuary against the soft leather padding of his chair. Fingers pressed together in a temple, he would wait out the storm...there was little else he could do. The moment called for venting out the impossibility of what had just been said.

He caught eyes with Garland. The commander of the Steel Lions' sat, his fingers slowly drumming along the polished surface of the table. There was forged steel in his gaze, his face set in a fierceness that the prince had seldom seen. Already he was preparing himself for what was coming.

As the heat of the moment continued on unabated, a guard set outside of the chamber, peeked in. A acknowledgment passed as suddenly a young man entered. The youth at first seemed taken aback by the shouting, but noticing the prince waiting, raised his chin and hurried forward.

The messenger paused briefly recognizing the two towering elves standing on either side of the prince's chair. Tight smiles were passed down from both. Prince Arlin leaned forward and listened while words were whispered. Then, from one of his pants pocket, a silver coin was retrieved and placed in the young man's hand. A look of delight as it was looked it over. A word of thanks before he bounded toward the door and out of the room.

Arlin settled back, his eyes marking the men of the Counsel and wondering when they would tire out. Deciding that now was the time, he raised his hand. Immediately all fell silent. Taking his own lean forward he spoke in the sudden stillness.

"It seems that the Veil instituted by Zachery Roe is failing." He raised his hand quickly against the building tide of questions ready to be tossed his way.

"I have not the answers as to the why. All I know is that the Old One has sent me a message informing me that those of the Dark Horde that survived will soon escape. That means, gentlemen, that we must prepare for the inevitable, and the possibility of war."

It was if the life had been sucked out of the room. Many had come in with their backs held straight. Now some were slumped over, eyes distant having been pried away from the present to revisit the past. How could they go back to their districts and give the news" There would be the immediate questions of how, followed by fear.

In the passing years many that survived the Bleak War had passed on. But, there were those that still remained and the stories that were told were a reality to those not having suffered through those dark times.

"Can this possibly be true?"

Tomas Gragler, a soldier once but now a prosperous farmer asked the question. What he had endured was obvious by the many crags in his face. Eyes that had seen too much seemed tired and lacking that spark of life. He was now one sitting in dejection. Wisps of gray hair curtaining a bald scalp. Grangler had the look of a man ready to dig his own grave.

"I knew this would happen."

All eyes turned to the one who'd spoken. Sir Garland, his voice strangely hushed, was looking at his own reflection in the high shine of the table.

"I warned the mage. I knew standing on that hill that day watching the corpses of the Dark Horde rotting in the sun, that this wasn't the end of it." He then looked up. "A soldier knows when a battle is truly over."

Suddenly, one of the doors to the Counsel Chamber opened bringing with it the Watchman' and a man looking the worse for wear. Some who had been sitting stood, watching and wondering at the man's dirty clothing. Who would come see the prince in such disarray'

The sentinel raised a gloved fist over his heart, a signal of loyalty to the prince and to Armengar. The prince stood returning it evenly and once finished, turned his attention to the newcomer.

"Welcome to the Counsel." From the man's clothing it was obvious he wasn't a citizen of the kingdom.

"Thank you." His voice was uneven and he shivered though the room was warm.

There were glances from those in the room, one to another, some continuing to stand. With the latest news from the prince, one could only wonder as to the traveler and his sudden appearance. Why was he here and what news was he carrying" Could the Veil have already fallen"

The elven guards watched in silence taking notice that the man didn't possess a weapon. Truth be told, even if he did he didn't look the part to use it. They noticed the troubled look in his eyes. As if he'd seen something to terrible to voice.

Albrey LaMay who was the master healer of Armengar kept vigil over the man as well. There was something well beyond that of physical pain. He stood offering his chair. He and the Watchman sat him down gently. Pulling a small vial from his pocket, the healer persuaded him to drink but to drink slowly.

After a moment a robust color came back to the traveler. Nodding his gratitude, he looked up at Prince Arlin. For some unknown reason tension filled the room. Even Garland now stood as others who'd maintained their chairs did likewise joining those already standing.

"I bring news highness from the east. Many of those in our village are dead, quite a few hurt. Who we could carry we brought with us."

Some of the counsel members stiffened. Then it had already happened. The Veil was no more.

Arlin though, did not jump to so quick a conclusion. "Speak on."

The man's eyes widened as if reliving the moment, his hand reaching out to take hold of the prince...

"Kahlim the Great...he lives!"

In the following silence, one could almost hear the rapid beating of each man's heart.

~

And as it was...the woman wasn't alone.

Her voice was demanding but her movements supple. There would be no denying the look in her eyes. She was a woman that demanded answers. Was this her pet' Slowly from the shadows soldiers appeared, hands holding tightly to drawn swords. Timber's eyes marked each one returned by a hiss of defiance.

Kaylin voiced a warning and took up a defensive position as Brindle appeared behind her. What was it now!" Cautiously he placed a hand on her shoulder rising up enough to take a look. White brows arched upward in obvious surprise.

"Sir Garland?"

The soldier blinked at the voice...

"Brindle?"

Kaylin's expression must have been one of complete confusion. Especially when she saw the elder step out and do a little jig. He giggled like a child and then turned, slapping his thigh in the process.

"It IS you!"

Timber then gazed at Garland. A flicker of remembrance perhaps in those golden eyes" The swampcat sniffed once..then twice, the armsmaster feeling his black leathers being pulled with the intensity. Suddenly, he sat back on his haunches along with a yawn though his eyes never leveled off from the soldiers.

The elder ran and embraced the bear of a man as he came to his feet. After a moment they both began laughing, Garland returning the affectionate hug. Standing him at arms length, he shook his head.

"I thought I'd never see the likes of you again."

"Or I you," replied the elder.

Without turning around, he issued the order to sheath swords to his men. Those standing behind him were now more confused then before. Their expression a mirror of the one Kaylin wore, but they did as commanded.

Garland then looked at Timber remembering the last time he'd saw the cat. It had grown even more. That in itself was terrifying. The passing years had been plentiful, so much so that he hadn't recognized him. It was obvious Timber had forgotten as well. Silently he was thankful for Brindle's sudden and unexpected arrival.

He might as well be dead otherwise.

The elder's brow arched suddenly. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying not to be the cat's dinner." Garland gave a wink in Kaylin's direction and from her look, she seemed anything but amused.

Clearing his throat suddenly, he ran a hand over his chestnut colored beard. "Prince Arlin sent me. The Old One sent him a letter, and it consisted more of just those we were sent to find. No names mind you, just that help would be needed. I'm surprised to find just the three of you..."

It then dawned on him that Timber never went anywhere without the girl Mira.

Garland's voice deepened when he asked where Brindle's granddaughter was. A bit of alarm at the possibility that something had happened to her.

"No,no...she's...", the elder's voice trailed off. "She's back at the campfire."

Something in his voice caused him a bit of alarm. "What is it, what?s happened"'

Brindle pushed back the lump rising in his throat. A mist was threatening his ability to see as he turned away and headed to where Kaylin stood. "Come back to the camp, you and your men. We will discuss what has transpired there."

Sir Garland could hear the pain of sadness in his voice. Something terrible had happened and he was unable, or unwilling to speak about it.

"Bring the horses," he ordered as he fell into tow.

Soon they came to stand before the young woman. "This, this is Kaylin." There was a twinkle in the old man's eye that had been missing for sometime. She knew not the history of the two but saw more of a step in the elder than she could remember.

The armsmaster held out his arm waiting for the warrior's grip. He could see it in her eyes. Somewhere within that lithe frame was a hidden strength and he guessed, much more.

Oh the growl that came from her depth could of matched the swamp cats when she noticed that they were all but surrounded. Ivory hilted knives where drawn and held firm even after Brindle attempted to ease her. There was a brief look of surprise when the elder did his jig. Seriously, what the hell was up with him' Raising her chin she watched, the blade of the knives dipped to rest against her lower arm and hilt pointed downward in ready pose.

They were watched in silence and Garland was given a blank look when he winked her way. Anything but amused by his words and action. In fact she simply stood there posed to attack if need be and only when they started to approach did a single dagger tilt away from her arm and slipped back into place.

A brief glance shot towards Brindle when he introduced her then she looked back towards the man. Her hand not extended but she did give a brief dip of her head. Then back to brindle her chocolate gaze settled. "We need to move."

The earth moaned under her feet as she turned on her heels and started back to camp. Motions swayed her form like a cat stalking towards it's prey, ever silent and graceful. If she was withdrawn before Jaxe's death she was plenty more of that now. Indeed she had shelled away, waiting her death and not wanting to get close to anyone..

As she approached the camp she slowed, attempting to seem as if she were waiting for the others. She knew Brindle would be following but the others..

More allies" And who was this Prince Arlin that was spoke of. Her standings were uncomfortable and she really didn't want to enter the camp and see the body of Jaxe again. It ached to see his peaceful form. And the sight itself drained her. Made her tired. And it reminded her that she had a duty to do..

Slowly her gaze drifted towards the veil, the other knife finally slipped into it's place at her belt and skin. Reaching up her hair was unbound and released to her shoulders. Drained and tired she combed back the strains while thinking. Where was the dwarf" They needed to move..Needed to go so that she could rest even if a smudge before the mage returned..

She would need all her strength before the darkness claimed her. Or the enemy.

...to be continued...

~

Muted surprise arose as Sirhan stared down into eyes as red as blood in a cauldron. Clawed fingers gripped his neck as the skin he thought belonging to the body Jaxe Blade began to peel away revealing knotted green flesh underneath.

Was his mind playing tricks" The blurring of his eyesight told him that what was happening was real. His lungs burned for air as he struggled to breathe. Growing in size and strength was a 'Changeling'. A dark creature able to manipulate its form to take on another. And now it towerd over him, spindly arms abnormally strong increasing its advantage of surprise.

The image of the weapons master completely stripped away, it forced the dwarf king back, a hideous smile breathing victory at the well thought out plan. To Sirhan if felt that he was under a great expanse of water fighting to breach the surface but unable to do so.

As he struggled to keep his thoughts in order, he gripped the Changeling's wrist trying to wrestle free. Why didn't the mage realize that a trap had been set' These questions began to dim as he dropped to a knee feeling the icy fingers of Death seep deep into the marrow of his bones.

Where were the others"

~

Within the Black Rock massive furnaces billowed immense heat that wafted through fissures keeping the tunnels that normally would be cold, comfortably warm. Strong backs bent to tasks, sweat and grit revealed on bare chests as calloused hands went about hard diligent work.

Sounds of grunting and the grinding of gears signified that the dwarven nation was vibrant and strong after the dark period of the Bleak War. Deep voices gave life to old songs as dedicated commitment to duty continued even in the absence of their king.

The auburn glow gave silhouette to the naturally formed walls stretching up and away into the darkness high above. As more coal was fed to the fires, the clanging of hammer upon anvil echoed a chorus of fortitude, strong tireless arms never wavering in their purpose. Dwarven weapons were being forged, the sound of hot steel hissing in baths of cold water erupted great clouds of steam that could be seen from one side of the cavern to the other.

A tapestry of hard work that wasn't lost on the lone figure standing atop a outcropping of rock overlooking those below. A broad shouldered dwarf leaned forward, hands secured around a wooden railing. Talwin, Sirhan's brother, nodded with satisfaction that all had remained unchanged. While his twin was away, he'd sworn to watch over things knowing that whatever the venture, it wouldn't take too long.

So had been the promise made.

But Talwin was having doubts.

Something had changed. Ever since a messenger had come bearing a letter, his brother seemed preoccupied...distant. A shout hung in the air and was followed by the sound of ropes tightening in preparation of lifting a large crate. Several dwarves worked in unison even as hearty shouts of encouragement sang out in a chorus of strength.

"FOR THE KING!"

Coarse strands of black hair framed Talwin's rugged face, a mustache and beard giving him the look of a bear roused from a long winter's sleep. Leather bands were worn on both wrists matching the color of his sleeveless vest and pants tucked into tethered sandals. The large silver belt buckle gleamed of recently been polished and nestled in a loop in his black belt, a war hammer resembling the one worn by the king, gleamed against the russet flames.

Quite suddenly a disturbance from the tunnel behind turned him around in time to see a dwarf hurrying in his direction. Bethel, one of the captains of the guard drew close, his forehead peppered in sweat with the effort needed to find Talwin quickly.

A momentary pause before he gave the captain a nod to proceed.

"Messengers are making their way along the corridors giving warning. The women are gathering the children and making their way toward the back tunnels. We need to hurry."

It took a moment to try to understand what was being said. Why were the back tunnels being used" They were only used in case the mountain fortress was in danger of being overrun.

His face stern, Talwin's voice was edged in anger. No one would dare give that order but the king, and while he was away, that decision would be left up to him, but he hadn't given so much a word.

"What are you talking about?", he demanded.

Bethel stood there, his eyes showing something as rare as could possibly be seen.

Fear. That was something that dwarves would never show unless all seemed hopeless, and even then, it was unacceptable. Dwarves were a courageous and fierce people known for their bravery.

But it was fear that was being paraded in the dwarf captain's eyes. And it caused a small portion of doubt to creep into his own.

"What is it?", Talwin asked suddenly.

Bethel pointed to where the entrance into the mountain hold would be should one be able to look through the very heart of it. His voice barely a whisper...

"From the north. A dragon comes."