Books One to Three of the Sons of ODIN part 1

Books One to Three
of the
Sons
of
ODIN
Collector‘s Edition
L.A. Hammer
Copyright 2016 L.A. Hammer.
Published by L.A. Hammer at Smashwords
Smashwords Edition Licence Notes
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any  means,  electronic  or  mechanical,  including  photocopying,  recording,  or  by  any
information storage and retrieval system, without permission  in writing  from  the copyright
owner.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the
author‘s imagination or are used fictitiously, and resemblance to any actual persons, living or
dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
To my Father, for always reading my stories.
Book Two is  f or all my friends, who have ever shared the dream.
I dedicate Book Three to my good friend, Nathan.
He showed me that faith  can be a virtue to be respected.

Book One
of the
Sons
of 
Odin
Odin’s Awakening
Collector‘s Edition
Prologue
Lady Gwyndel climbed the dark stone at the foot of the tower that loomed above her like the
Dark One‘s Spear. Her Guardian, Lord Farrigan led the climb, though the rest of their party
had remained at the mountain pass between the Free Lands and the barren wastelands that
were home to the Resting Point of the Dark One, known as Kerak‘Otozi.
The tower was only several hours ride from the Green Border however. A  long
distance from the dreaded mountain where the Lord of Chaos resided and built his strength,
drawing from the Elemental Magic of the Great Angels to fuel his preparation for the day of
the Return.
Gwyndel was not without hope however, as the day of the First Arrival was nearing—
when the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor would come to the rescue of Kismeria—
according to words spoken by the immortal kings to both her and Farrigan. The two kings
had appointed the Blademaiden and Guardian Lord for a spec ial mission to gain intelligence
from the enemy at their lair, here in the Eastlands at the Tower of Orgroth Koeher.
Orgroth Koeher was obsidian rising as a shaft of defiance against the light of the
moon that shone occasionally amidst dark thunderclouds,  forked lighting of crimson evil
pulsing and flaring in sideward bursts throughout the darkness. Other bolts blasted the earth
below where hot magma flowed through deep caverns and cracked soil.
Despite the foul heat of these lands during daylight hours, the nights were near to
freezing temperatures, cooling much of the lava that flowed from a number of volcanoes in
this region, including Kerak‘Otozi. That was the main source, however much of the burning
rivers still glowed bright hot in the darkness below.
Gwyndel‘s hands were cut a number of times during the climb, though the presence of
her Battle Angel brought a fast healing to her flesh; it was painful and gruelling to endure
none the less. Despite being immortal blood, her bones were weary and her muscles ached
during the climb, as it took over two hours of climbing to reach the foot of the tower. 
She wished for nothing more than to be home in a warm blanket listening to the wind
through the trees of her nest, high in the branches of the Great Trees of t he Kingarin Forest,
the Silver Twins, the Crimson Leaf, Iron Oaks, Golden Towers, Faun- Hoof Leaf, Starlight
Elms, Moon- Branch and other enchanted trees of the forest that glowed with the ancient light
of the Great Angels that created the first seeds of the ir kind during the Dawn of Ages.
It was a burden and a curse to be enlisted in the Wood Kin Clans at times like these,
when she was forced to forsake her own safety and risk life and limb to gather intelligence
for the immortal kings. She tsked to herself  in irritation when she thought over the countless
missions just like this one she had taken part in during her hundred and thirty four years as a
full grown, after taking the oaths before the Dremelden King and Queen. Her fealty was
sworn to her people, bu t also to the realm.
Their altherin  horses had taken them to the stone cliffs that formed the base of the
tower; and the climb had been steep and deadly as the winds howled like and thunder roared
through the heavens. But the immortal blood of the ancients   flowed through the veins of
Gwyndel and Farrigan, and they were both swift and sure as they clung to crevices and
craggy paths to heave their bodies to higher perches. Their keen eyes and ears ever alert for
the sight of any threat, some Shadowspawn spy;  demon or perhaps even the Dark Generals
they sought to spy upon.
Gwyndel was fair of hair with large emerald eyes, of the Dremelden Wood Kin Clans,
as was Lord Farrigan—a tall handsome figure, dark of hair with eyes that often stared at her
in ways that was unnerving, but it also often brought emotions of excitement, though he had
never spoken the words that declared such feelings for her in return—and they both wore the
torin’sidhe of greys, greens and browns on their coats and boots, with matching cuirass and
breastplates under cloaks of the Guardian, that blended with the night and the dark stone itself
to hide them from the view of sharp - eyed enemies.
Each was equipped with a bow and blade, though the enemy they sought out would
destroy them with little effort, if not for the Battle Angel, Druantia—Wife to the Green Man,
Queen of Forests and Mother of the Children of the Woods—that resided in her emerald bow
as Resting Point, for Druantia would give these Shadow Men and their second in command a
swift hid ing if it became necessary.
They reached the highest window of the tower—their immortal sight could see even
in the shadows that it was unguarded—by each one of them being lifted over one hundred
feet up through the air, carried by the wings of Druantia. A fter the Battle Angel was
summoned—and appeared as a slender young looking woman with hair and eyes of burning
shadows; flesh and rune marked dress glowing aqua, emerald and crimson—wings of jade
light fanned from her shoulders, and she lifted first Farrigan, placing him sitting on the
windowsill high upon the tower‘s flat facing side, then returned to scoop up Gwyndel and
carry her to the same place. They slipped into the darkness within —as Druantia returned to
the enchanted bow—neither of them wielding the Power to light their way in fear of being
discovered, moving with stealth up the winding stairway with elven eyes searching for signs
of an ambush.
They had not wasted Druantia‘s strength at the beginning of the climb as the Angel
relied on precious stores of demon souls to aid her Elemental Magic, and even that small
amount of assistance would have depleted some of those stores. The presence of a Battle
Angel released from their Resting Point was also a risk of being detected by these high
ranking Darkso uled, and then, even with Druantia to beat the enemy into submission,
Gwyndel and Farrigan would have to flee. Even then it was not a guarantee that they would
survive.
During their ascension Farrigan waved a fist to halt her in her tracks. He drew his
blade and moved on ahead without her, his cloak blending with the stone walls and the
darkness to hide him. The glowing sword concealed beneath the folds.
A fierce grunt was heard as the light of the blade flared in the distance—the sound of
a demon dying in shock—as a dark ram‘s skull thudded as it fell down the staircase in plain
sight, lit by the pale blue of Farrigan‘s blade. Dark blood flowed from the fat dark corpse that
lay sprawled upon the steps further ahead —the magic of the blade melting away its shadow
flesh as cracks of blue spread like tiny crackling lightning bolts; even disintegrating the
network of bones—after Farrigan returned to signal her to follow.
That had been a Jacoulra guard, a foul demon of dark magic, though fortunately it had
been a lone—and Farrigan was also a formidable warrior—so the pair continued on their
mission to seek out the precious information required by the immortal kings. ‘What plotting
and scheming do our enemies have in store, in preparation for the First Arrival?’
It was for an answer to  that very question;  that Gwyndel and Farrigan were marching
into the Lion‘s den. She felt part fool for her willingness to follow orders without question,
especially when it concerned her own neck, yet the fate of the world hung in the  balance, and
according to ancient prophecies, only the Sons and Daughter could ever hope to save them.
There is a rooftop entrance where you will be able to overlook the Meeting Hall,
Druantia explained to Gwyndel‘s mind in chiming tones. I sense a large gathering, perhaps
even all of the Accursed and most of the Anointed are present. 
Gwyndel signalled this information to Farrigan with hand gestures, a complex system
created by the immortal kin over the span of Ages. Farrigan nodded, and continued on with
greater caution, creeping like a panther on the hunt. His expression revealed the fear they
both felt to be so close to a gathering of men and women that could extinguish their lives as
easily as two wet fingers closing about a burning wick. It must mean they have something
very important to discuss, Gwyndel replied to Druantia.  Why else would they all be gathered
in one place?
That is plain truth, Gwyndel. The Accursed generally do not like to work together, let
alone communicate with their second in comm and. The rooftop entrance is a small trapdoor
located in the ceiling outside the entrance to the Meeting Hall. I have disabled its locks and
magic wards, though you must hurry. I will try to disguise the trapdoor after you enter, to
make it appear that it has not been tampered with. You must be quiet as a mouse, Lady
Gwyndel, your footfalls must not make a sound, and your breathing must be as calm as still
waters.
It was all well and good for her Battle Angel to give such instructions on calm silence,
but the trembling that was taking over Gwyndel was near impossible to control.
***
Calliestra, known by her enemies as Shadowheart, stood in the meeting hall of the
highest chamber of Orgroth Koeher, surrounded by the assembled Generals of the Shadow.
Nodomi kept her distance from Calliestra, the snooty nosed beauty running a delicate
hand across her golden locks that fell past her shoulders every so often. A sure sign of her
discomfort at being so close to so many of the higher ranking Generals, known as the
Appointed by Darksouled, but their enemies referred to them as Dark Angels or the Shadow
Men. Perhaps it was because they were a unit of twelve formed only of males, all immortal
blood. Men who had betrayed the Light to serve the Dark One in hope of an immortality that
would allow them to escape even Death himself, if they were to ever meet their doom at the
hands of a courageous Blademaster—though the warrior would require a fine blade and
perhaps a few Battle Angels to achieve the task. Orion and Tobin were  perhaps the only
warriors left in Kismeria who stood any such chance. Those two were the greatest threat.
Tairark Vampireking seemed the most confident from his stance and the radiance of
evil that permeated from his dark cloak that seemed to merge with t he shadows of the room.
Shockingly, all twelve of the Appointed had removed their rune marked masks to reveal their
rarely seen faces, skin that had the texture and colour of ashes and rot, each one glaring about
the chamber with eyes that burned like hot  magma. This was a fusion of the Power and the
Dark One‘s Glory, known commonly as the Dark Trail. Those caverns of golden flames were
unnerving when being caught by their gaze, but Calliestra would not let her fear show to men
she would one day supplant, to take her rightful place as the Right Fist of the Shadow.
The other Appointed hovered inches above the floor about the room—that a blending
of space and time, as well as the chamber itself, as a physical location was required, but the
room itself was an illusion of the Dark Trail, hiding them from the eyes and ears of spies.
Unless that spy had an artefact of magic or a Battle Angel to unravel the weaves—and every
one of them was radiating that ominous force of the Trail to dominate over the Anointed, the
lower ranking twelve generals of which Calliestra was a member, though it irked her
painfully to admit even to herself.
There was a level of unity between the abilities gifted to both the Appointed and
Anointed via the Trail, though that particular ability to radiate an evil force was applicable
only to Shadow Men, Souljhin and lesser demons, at least to any degree of creating fear in
your enemies. This was also a point of great displeasure for her.
The other Anointed were all showing signs of feeling oppressed in the presence of the
entire host of Appointed, as they sat or paced about the room waiting for the meeting to
commence. Why Tairark had not already started was perplexing for her, as it made her begin
to worry that perhaps another had been given an  even higher station of command.
She glanced across at Fearen, dark haired with large blue eyes that so often shifted
from a clear focus to that of a madwoman. She was mad before she betrayed the Light, and
the Dark One had never cleansed that illness entirely. For which reason Calliestra had always
treated her as the closest ally, though always believing she was the last of their kind that
should be trusted or given command. ‗Why is it always such a  long wait?‘ The fool woman
asked with a focused gaze, before she began picking at her face with dark fingernails —a
habit that had left her grossly scarred—before she began to whine with that look of madness
returning. 
‗I certainly have better things to be doing than standing around with my arms
crossed,‘ Nodomi c himed in, and as the woman brushed a hand over her locks once again.
Calliestra almost bit her tongue to avoid blurting out that the slut was probably referring to
the three slaver men she had waiting back in her bedchamber, in a bed that was large enough
to fit a half dozen more. Nodomi‘s use of mind control was a deplorable past time, though the
woman had an insatiable appetite for passion—even if it was with men so stoned by the
Power they probably wouldn‘t know if they were giving it to a  goat.
She held  her tongue more for the fact that it would reveal to Nodomi that Calliestra
knew such things about her—as Calliestra had worked long and hard for centuries to retrace
the Old Lore of the ancients and the Old Ways Magic, to discover precious knowledge of t he
Power and how to use these abilities to both spy upon and manipulate her peers—as this
would spark intrigue in every other figure gathered that Calliestra knew such intimate secrets
about another of their kind—much more so than for the fact that it may embarrass the poor
girl.
Nodomi cringed moments after as her tender pale bosom—exposed by the low cut
neckline of her golden lace gown—rose and fell in anxious breaths, perhaps more so for the
waiting than her desperation to return to her shameless acts of debauchery.
Calliestra returned her focus to the hall, it was lit by a translucent glow of crimson
and amber, with shadows cast off each figure that flickered and morphed into shapes
suggestive of Nymloc and Jacoulra. The light was a working of the Shadow, rather than some
metaphorical reflection of the nature of the souls of each man and woman. The walls of the
chamber were glossy black panels that shone like silk shadows, lined with hard crimson
timbers against the obsidian walls.
Apparitions of pale sk ulls danced across the surface of the shadowy panels, the
tortured souls of Servants of the Shadow who had not received the blessing of reincarnation.
It was either for failure of the Great Lord, or simply because the Dark One saw no greater use
for them a fter their demise. Darksouled served their purposes in the name of evil in the hope
of immortality, but not all were so fortunate. Calliestra often wondered if the Great Lord
chose such surrounds as a warning against failure of those he placed highest in c ommand, and
the more often the thought came to mind, the more likely it seemed. She resisted the urge to
shiver, again hiding her growing discomfort as time seemed to slide into puddles at her feet.
Her fears up until that moment could not have matched the  moment a flare of crimson
and golden fires blossomed in a shadowed corner of the chamber, to reveal the shadow
cloaked form of a Souljhin standing taller than seven feet. An impossible tower of pure sin
bleeding its corruptive forces through the air as its form slid towards Tairark, the
Vampireking actually giving way for the creature as it glanced about the room. Large black
eyes shaped like burning seeds of pure malevolence on a puckered pasty white face revealed
beneath the heavy drooping cowl.
‗What madness is this?‘ Another of the Anointed asked as if scandalized by the
presence of one of the Swordsmen of the Shadow arriving without summons, but again
Calliestra held her tongue, as did the rest of the gathering. They all knew well enough not to
questio n any man that held sway over Tairark. It was Baidel who had asked the question,
though his fear and doubt of his own words became readily apparent as he gave a slight tilt of
his head with a cautious gaze directed at the Souljhin. 
When the creature spoke,  it seemed a shrill scream tore the air with every hissed
phrase, though its deep crushing tones reminded her of bones being crushed under foot, blood
flowing through endless chasms, rotting corpses and the Flames of Hell.
‗The Great Lord has appointed me  as Right Fist of the Shadow.‘ Those words brought
immediate shock and revulsion from all who stood glaring in disbelief. It was abhorrent for
any of them to be forced to even consider accepting such a decision, though a raging torrent
of fierce wickedness permeated Calliestra‘s soul as the Souljhin released the full force of his
might against them. Each man who might think to oppose this being suddenly relented like
tame wolves receiving a slap on the nose by their new master.
‗You will soon learn that I will not accept insolence any more than failure from my
subjects.‘ Calliestra began to fear she may faint in pure shock of the level of corruption that
battered against her senses; the Souljhin was a raging volcano of pure sin. ‗I am named
Baegelmeer; you will address me as so. I demand absolute respect and subservience.
‗As you all know, the Great Lord is plotting to ambush the Sons and Daughter on the
day of the First Arrival.‘ Baegelmeer pointed a dark nailed finger at Baidel and Torkhan as he
said, ‗You w ill receive further orders on when and where we shall strike. The Dark Lord will
gain new control over the elements soon after the Sons have delivered the promised curse to
the Power of teron. Although the Great Lord and his servants have never discovered  the exact
location of the Arrival, we know the hour is nigh. We must be vigilant in our preparations to
annihilate them, or to drive them into submission. Ultimately we must form their alliance
with the Great Lord, whether as living men, or cursed wraiths.‘
Baegelmeer then pointed at Calliestra as he spoke, ‗You, Shadowheart, will have a
short introduction with one of the Sons, this very night. You shall visit him in his dreams,
travelling to the Earth realm in spirit to tell him of his fate to serve the Shadow in life or
death.‘
‗How will I achieve this?‘ Calliestra asked with tremendous fear crushing her chest.
‗Do you take me for a fool?‘ The Souljhin asked. ‗You have the ability to do so, and
so, you shall do exactly as I command.‘ The creature then turned to move back to the
shadowed corner from which it had emerged, and as Baegelmeer began to vanish in
substance Calliestra called to him, asking, ‗What else does the Dark One command of us?‘
The voice of Baegelmeer carried in the air even after his form had vanished, ‗The
Great Lord has endless plans for you all, though those that disappoint me, shall suffer due
punishments from him directly.‘
Moments later Calliestra felt all eyes upon her, before Nodomi asked with scorn,
‗What did he mean by that, saying   you have the ability to enter dreams in the Earth Realm?
What other secrets have you kept from us all this time?‘
‗It was a recent discovery,‘ Calliestra lied quickly to avoid further suspicion, and she
hoped she succeeded. ‗I have never tested the theory, though I will try, of course. I will do as
Baegelmeer commands me. I would like some time alone to attempt it however.‘
‗I would very much like to see you make the attempt,‘ Nodomi almost cried.
‗Silence!‘ roared Tairark. ‗I will remain here to monitor S hadowheart while she works
the spell, the rest of you can leave.‘
‗Do we still take orders from you?‘ Baidel asked uncertainly. 
‗I am still second in command,‘ Tairark replied in irritated rage, expelling a degree of
corruption with enough force to make his point. ‗Leave, all of you, now. That is my
command.‘
***
Calliestra waited until the gathering had departed, before creating the weaves to enter the
dreams of the Son of Odin. Tairark stood watching with keen interest as his eyes detected
even the femal e weaves that were made using a combination of terael and the Trail. He
would instruct her to provide further instructions on how to use this ability, to track and also
appear before any of the three Sons of Odin, when she returned. For now he waited silen tly,
until her form began to shimmer and burn into a translucent quality. Her figure was
surrounded by light and shadows that coursed through the air in a tunnel like a school of
brightly coloured fish, until she faded from view entirely. Golden light flared before she
vanished in a weave that appeared similar to creating portals through space.
Entering dreams was a part of the Old Ways Magic. It was still known by all of the
Appointed and Anointed, and was known by many Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael throughout  the
Ages. However none except the Great Angels had ever been known to have the ability to
travel to and from the alternate dimension known as Earth. This ability to even enter the
dreams of someone from that realm was a precious gem. One that Calliestra ha d obviously
kept secret for her own purposes.
The meeting had not been a complete shock however. He had been well informed by
the Great Lord that Baegelmeer was appointed Right Fist, well before the time he arrived
here. He had kept the others waiting—rather than admit to such damned humiliation
openly—until the Souljhin appeared to make his claim.
There was nothing more to be done about it. Even Tairark knew he did not have the
ability to destroy the creature. Baegelmeer was given sources of the Great Lord ‘s Glory that
surpassed any other. Even with an alliance of his Brothers, defeating such an opponent would
take more than just good luck.
***
Gwyndel was near to sweating in fear of the presence of the last Shadow Man in the Meeting
Chamber, the room viewable via the abilities gifted to her by Druantia. She saw the meeting
take place through a warp in space. It allowed her to see straight through the roof of the
Tower, through wrappings of Air and Fire that would keep the meeting from the prying eyes
of lesser spies in the same location.
Farrigan remained silent at her side, until he gave the signal that it was time to attempt
a retreat. They both began to shift across the stone paved ceiling of the Chamber with the
skill of Elven Guardians. The gift attri buted from earth and sky gave them heightened senses,
but also expert abilities at Wood Lore and remaining silent when hunting or spying. 
They were exiting the trapdoor and making their way down the ladder swiftly, but
cautiously to avoid sound. Gwyndel sa w a blade ever so close to being pressed against her
throat, a beam of hot corrosion glowing crimson below her vision told her it was the blade of
a Souljhin or Shadow Man. The level of evil force that was being generated suggested it was
the latter. If th e blade gave her the slightest cut, she would die a horrible death in a very short
time. Druantia would not be able to cure the dark magic curse that would infect her flesh and
blood. The fact that the blade had not cut her yet, meant the assassin wanted a nswers from
her first.
She breathed the name of her Battle Angel, ‗Druantia,‘ and a moment later noticed an
emerald light added to the crimson bar held close to her throat. Druantia‘s hand grasped the
blade hilt to carefully force the weapon forwards, and then drag it away from Gwyndel‘s
throat, while obviously holding the Shadow Man in a powerful grip with her other hand.
Gwyndel touched ground a moment later, to look back and see Tairark struggling
against Druantia‘s grasp, before the Battle Angel hurled  the Shadow Man flying back through
the door of the Meeting Chamber—that remained closed—as Tairark‘s form simply melted
through the solid stone to vanish from sight. The door to the Meeting Chamber burst open,
and there again stood Tairark Vampireking, wearing his mask of gold worked with dark
runes—a human skull mask with long blood soaked canines—his golden eyes glaring within
the eye sockets as his evil force radiated in the air like a beacon of lost hope.
Druantia appeared before him, in an emerald gown—holding up a shield of green
light to deflect a blast of Elemental Magic hurled by Tairark —the two forces colliding in a
flare of brilliance. Farrigan also leapt to the solid stone flooring, drawing his blade with fluid
movements as the two then began to race down the staircase with the fleet footed swiftness
only attributed to Aelfin.
They were nearing the highest window when Druantia appeared again at Gwyndel‘s
side. Farrigan turned to face a Jacoulra lurching up the stairway—thick bulging body like
black tar reflecting the light of the blue blade, its seed shaped eyes glowing bright amber—as
it raised a scimitar that glowed like dark blood. A spattering of hot magma flying towards the
Guardian as both he and Druantia formed shields to deflect the demon‘s magic.
Druantia appeared a moment later behind the demon, driving a spear of emerald light
through the back of its torso. The shaft burning like cold fusion as it protruded from the front
of its chest, as Farrigan stepped in to lop off the demon‘s ram shaped skull. The body
collapsing as Gwyndel and Farrigan leapt over the fallen beast to make their way to the
window.
Farrigan turned to Druantia to say, ‗Catch her.‘ Then he pushed Gwyndel straight out
the window—just as Gwyndel spotted more Nymloc demons  charging up the staircase—and
she was hurtling to her death before she was swept up on Angel‘s wings and carried over the
bleeding dark landscape, landing next to her horse as Druantia said, ‗I will rescue Farrigan,
you must ride and not look back.‘
‗I wil l wait for him,‘ replied Gwyndel, before the Battle Angel groaned in avid
frustration and then conceded by saying, ‗Very well, but be ready to ride when I return.‘
***
Farrigan switched to his Lukrorian Bow in a swift sheathing of the blade. Drawing the  bow in
fluid motion he unleashed three powerful arrows of burning emerald. Each hit a target with
adequate force, blasting the three charging Nymloc in the skulls; tumbling back down the
staircase in pillars of flame.
He had focused enough of teron to flow   into each arrow before unleashing, though he
did not have the necessary time to create arrows powerful enough to destroy any of the three
demons. So he drew again, this time pouring a greater source of the Power into a single shaft
of light; aimed at the  three burning demons. The impact was a blast of magic that caused the
stone walls to shudder. The Nymloc screamed while being blasted into burning pieces.
A Souljhin was next to appear, sliding up the staircase in its cloak of darkness,
wielding a wicked c rimson blade burning with inner shadows. The corrupt taint forged at
Kerak‘Otozi would turn his flesh to congealed blackness at the slightest cut. He switched to
the blade again, and began a slow retreat back up the staircase, knowing that Tairark was
waiting up there. But he was not skilled enough to best even one of the Swordsmen of the
Shadow, as Souljhin were infamous for their skill with the blade. Even though Farrigan was a
Blademaster, he knew his training was lacking what was required to take on this demon on
his own.
His one hope lay in the chance that Druantia would return to protect him. So he
delayed the Souljhin‘s approach by using his left hand to send blasts of blue energy flying at
its skull and chest. Each sphere of light striking the creatu re to slightly irritate it and send it
off balance, but Farrigan was not particularly strong in the Power either. He was no Alit‘aren,
although he was considered strong for a Guardian, and the gift gave him a slight advantage.
The Power was less draining f or him than it would be for most Alit‘aren, even immortals, as
the gift provided extra stores of endurance and stamina, spiking even more when he should be
close to exhaustion. For now he used all he could muster to distract the Souljhin before he
was forced into close combat.
The creature was closing the gap between them; each sliding step gained forced
greater fear into Farrigan‘s soul. His Guardian senses searched the staircase above to try to
detect whether more Souljhin were waiting there. His blood froze when he realised it was
Tairark he could sense making a swift descent. Farrigan roared as he leapt at the Souljhin
with his blade raised for a strike.
A blast of energies filled his vision when he was inches from clashing blades with the
Souljhin—that  had raised its sword to easily deflect that attack—as Druantia appeared
between them in an emerald haze. The light pushed Farrigan backwards but he managed to
land on his feet in a defensive stance. The Battle Angel placed both hands around the
Souljhin‘s  hooded skull, its crimson blade swiped uselessly through Druantia‘s form. Electric
energies burst from her fingertips, emerald flames surrounded the dark cloaked figure like a
small bonfire; its skull exploded in a dark spray.
Druantia turned to him to sho ut, ‗Get to the window and jump!‘
Farrigan did as he was commanded, fleeing just as Tairark began to float into view at
the top of the staircase. He looked back once at a sound like the fabric of space being torn.
Druantia and the Shadow Man facing off in a cataclysm of sparkling emerald and crimson
energies, the two bolts entwined between them, making the walls reverberate with the Power
and the Trail. He leapt from the window just as a massive  boom  filled the Tower above, and
he watched the dark cliff face below as he hurtled towards his death.
Better catch me, pretty Lady.
***
Tairark hovered outside the Tower walls, after recovering from that near fatal blast of
energies unleashed by the Queen of Forests. His vision was still blurry, but he still made  out
the winged Angel carrying the young Wood Kin male off into the distance.
His rage was surging now, but he would not follow. Instead he summoned the
Demonwolf pack that were patrolling nearby, his mind connecting with the pack leader to set
them on the  hunt. He grinned as he heard their deathly howls fill the night sky. His immortal
vision made out a number of the enormous dark bodies lumbering after their prey with speed
that would outpace even the altherin  in short order.
He would prefer to have his questions answered by the two spying elves, but
Demonwolves did not take prisoners. They would devour their prey in a few savage gulps, so
at least that way; the spies would not live to deliver their intelligence to their commanders.
The Wolves were the last remaining pack in Kismeria, and if they were somehow defeated,
he would pay a hefty price under the wrath of the Great Lord. But that was unlikely;
however, he was rather impressed at the skill of these two Wood Kin to have evaded the pack
on their ascent of the Tower. Demonwolves were extremely adept at detecting sound and
scent.
No matter, he thought, the hounds will have their trail by now; there will be no
chance of escape.
***
Gwyndel heard the howls of the Demonwolf pack before Druantia returned, to set Farrigan
down beside his mount. When both were in their saddles, Druantia returned to Gwyndel‘s
bow. Farrigan drew his short dagger to cut a slice from his palm that dripped fresh blood onto
the dark soil. ‗They will follow my trail,‘ he said, while  roughly bandaging the wound with a
torn strip of his shirt cut from beneath his coat sleeve, ‗you must get to the Nordic King and
report what you have discovered.‘ The man spoke as if he were stating that he preferred
freshly baked bread to burnt toast, Gu ardians rarely showed their fear.
Gwyndel did not waste time arguing, setting off at a great pace to try to gain some
distance from the approaching Wolves. She rode in a blur of darkness and red cracked soil,
her white altherin  mare was swift even for immortal blood. But she would not escape unless
she reached the Green Border and met with reinforcements, preferably strong Alit‘aren and
Ael Tarael behind high stone walls if the pack did not want to give up the hunt.
The chances of that were very slim, and a ny patrol would be shattered by even one
Demonwolf, regardless of whether there were a few strong wielders amongst them or not.
Druantia would not be able to take down the entire pack, and her Battle Angel cautioned
Gwyndel not to summon her again until a  moment of great urgency, as her ki’mera  was
nearly spent in those flights from the Tower.
The last howls of the Wolves were headed southwest however, so she believed she
still had a chance to survive, despite how low her beloved Farrigan‘s chances now seemed.
His bravery brought tears to her eyes, and the thought of now losing him seared her core as if
it were dipped in flames.
She changed course at Druantia‘s instruction, hoping now on making it to a Portal that
stood here in the Eastlands. It was made long ago when that region was still defended by
immortals against the demon plagues. Stone fortifications once stood there that were now
demolished ruins. If she could reach the Travelling Gate and get through it in time, it should
take her directly to Nordhe l.
Her companions would know to flee when they heard the Demonwolves, and she
would only endanger them further by making her way towards them.
She was approaching the Portal that was still some miles ahead when the chilling
howl of a giant wolf filled the air, not far off to the northeast. A second howl was then heard
chasing up the rear, this one much closer, as she realised that not all of the pack had followed
Farrigan, booting her heels to drive Paquaila into a faster gallop.
The pair of Wolves then be gan to herd her in a different direction, as she moved now
southwest without a clear notion of where she was headed. She pulled hard on the reins to
bring the mare to a sliding halt, Paquaila standing on her hind legs and screaming in terror
only inches from the edge of a dark cliff.
The Wolves were seen now to the east, charging on all fours, the beasts stood over
twelve feet tall, hides like thick tar that glowed with flares of magma dancing across their
skin. Their maws dripping saliva from fangs like steel as their eyes glowed hot crimson in the
moonlight.
Gwyndel summoned her Battle Angel, and as she cried her name, Druantia appeared
in a flare of emerald. The Angel shouted the name of the Lightninglord, crying ‗Odin!‘
A bolt of tangled blue clutched Dr uantia to drag her up into the clouds. Gwyndel
looked there to see her Battle Angel grow in size as lightning surged around her form, and
there beside her appeared Odin Lightninglord. A part of his Great Spirit roused from deep
slumber by the call of one o f the female Great Angels of the Second Born—beard of white
flame and eyes of burning light, a Nordic face with a crown of glowing gold, armour of
burning golden and crimson plates on a chest as wide as an elephant—as Odin assisted
Druantia to draw back her heavy bow, that gleamed like a jade crescent moon, an arrow of
brilliant emerald glowed like a burning star, the shaft of light becoming fused with the Odin
Spear before it was unleashed.
Gwyndel spun to see the shaft of fire split to become two giant ar rows that thudded
down into the skulls of the charging Wolves, splicing with their skulls to drive them down
into the earth only a few feet on either side from Gwyndel and her horse; jaws fused shut as
sniffing snouts and gnashing teeth missed horse and rider by only inches. The two massive
beasts slid through the stony soil as electric emerald and aqua bolts shuddered around their
forms, until one collapsed and melted into a dark bloody mass—Paquaila bucking again in
panic as the ooze flowed around her hoo ves—and the other tumbled straight over the cliff
face, howling as it fell, to land with a heavy  thud!
***
Elarja RinHannen smashed his fists against the walls of his golden prison, sending flares and
vibrations up through the walls of darkness. His Immortal knuckles were stronger than
diamond, though they had never made a dent in these walls fortified by the magic of the Leaf
Guardians. Those were the strange little beings that had locked him away here, and he hated
them for it.
I’ll melt their bones in boiling acid if I ever get the chance again!  ‗Every last one of
you   will pay! Do you hear me? I will have my revenge!‘
He slumped back against the coolness of the wall to ease his raging temper. Being
imprisoned in darkness was hell after the first hour,  but he had been here in this place for
more than a thousand lifetimes of Men. It’s suffocating me. I have to get out. ‗Let me out of
this damn hole you bastard little fools!‘ His voice bounced off the walls and rang in his own
ears like the rage of a wild beast. His was the blood of the ancient immortals, born the son of
the First Nordic King, Rodin Cloudwalker, and so he was known as the Second Born
amongst the immortals of his Age. ‗You don‘t know what you have done. Let me out! Let me
out! God damn it le t me out of this forsaken hole!‘
A type of madness was taking over his mind. Soon he would be lost completely, and
the fate of the world would rest in the hands of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.  If
I don’t escape I will never be there to guide them. They could not know how desperately they
will need my aid.
He did not bother to wield enough to light the cramped chamber as he sat clenching
his jaw. The darkness had been a horror to him at first, and he had wielded a flame for every
waking moment, sometimes even leaving a ball of flame alight while he slept. That was to
avoid waking in the darkness that for millennia had made this place seem like a tomb. These
days the darkness was like a cold blanket, he drank it in and it kept him hidden from himself.
Only his waning sanity kept him afloat in those shadows as his mind drifted in and out of
consciousness. ‗I will never get out of here.‘
A part of him knew that couldn‘t be plain truth. A part of him still believed in
miracles, and a second chance.  The Kjia‘hyenti had punished him for toying with the
timelines. Ever since Elarja used his expert skill in magic crafting to create the Time Stones,
the Leaf Guardians were ever envious and filled with spite. They say it is a dangerous thing,
to play with  time. ‗But they are jealous leeches! Trolls, hobs and vermin! Let me out of here!‘
Get me out, before I do something I can’t reverse.
Anything other than taking his own life Elarja could reverse, as he was Master of
Time, some had called him Father Time. For the Stones he had crafted could move not only
through space and dimensions, but also from past to present and the reverse. This was why
the Sons and Daughter so desperately needed him. Without him, the fate of Kismeria was
held within the clutches of Doom.
Chapter
1
Shared Visions and Dreams
Adem was not prepared to face the day after the nightmare he had received the previous
evening, after waking drenched in sweat—a sure sign of how terrified he must be as he
almost never sweated any other time—pa nting and gasping for breath as the images flashed
through his mind again, a beautiful woman, dark hair and eyes that burnt like dark fire, as he
hovered in a tunnel of flames that scorched his flesh and melted his bones . The woman told
him of his fate, th at he was to meet his death at the hands of Corruption, and that he would be
turned to become a willing servant of the Lord of Chaos!
The woman had called him a Son of Odin, a name she repeated each time he was
addressed by her as he screamed in agony in t he tunnel of flames, and high at the peak of the
burning vortex he had seen the face of this Dark Lord, menacing and cruel, eyes of golden
orange flames like wicked fangs that stared from a skull like some bison formed of
shadowed- tar, burning twisted horn s and a maw filled with dark fangs!
Adem looked into those eyes and felt the terror of meeting a being of such pure
corruption it was matched only by his previous experience,  that night, years ago, at Bright,
when he first had learnt that ghosts were not imagined, not a mythology. Not some false
religious fantasy cooked up to inspire hope or fear in the hearts of mankind so that they could
follow some sort of faith to rob them of their riches, but that ghosts were in fact real. A s true
to life as your next door neighbour, who waves to you over the fence and asks, ―How was
your day?‖
Ever since that night at Bright the world had been a very different place for Adem
Highlander, and he had known since that night that he and his two closest friends all became
Witnesses—in the truest form—that life for him and for his friends was n ever going to be the
same again. But he had never in his wildest dreams imagined that even his worst nightmares
could inspire such terror, such agony, such horrors to believe that there  could be even more to
reality than the world he had come to know. That was until that nightmare he had
experienced the night before, waking in a cold sweat, despite the burning across his skin that
gave him an unshakable sense of certainty that in some way  his dream was also quite real.
That morning he had remained awake from the early hours following the nightmare,
and had spent most of that time thinking back over the ordeal, catching sudden glimpses of
things he had not quite remembered when first waking . The woman‘s face, the tunnel o f
flames, but there was more. H e had seen a lan d, beautiful beyond imagining. A  land filled
with people of incredible magic powers like something from his favourite fantasy novels. So
vivid and detailed he did not see how hi s mind could have created them, and it seemed when
he saw the faces of some of those men and  women, that he also knew them. As if he were
seeing glimpses of an impossible future he would someday live to see, and if the woman
spoke truthfully, perhaps he wo uld meet these strange beings from a distant land. After all,
with what he already knew about reality, anything was possible.
He had seen other creatures, demons and vampires, werewolves and shadow cloaked
assassins that wielded tainted crimson bl ades that  glowed like hot blood. They could teleport
through shadows and their faces were that of pale monsters with e yes like menacing black
seeds. But it was the evil force they radiated that turned his heart to stone, his blood to ice, as
it reminded him of that terrible magic he had experienced that night at Bright. Though that
part at least was not unlike so many other nightmares he had become accustomed  to since that
night also.
That evening he still made it to the city by train: as he would not let even this
shocking a revelation spoil his chances of meeting with his new agent. Anna was on time and
looked radiant in a sparkling black evening dress. It was summertime, the weather was cool
despite the daylight- savings sun still clear in the sky at a quarter to  seven, and the older
woman beamed when she laid eyes on him in his black suit and tie.
‗I was beginning to wonder if you would make it,‘ she said in tones that suggested she
would have been  most displeased if he had not. Batting her long eyelashes  with dark eyes
burning, Anna had  not a wrinkle on her face despite the apparent wisdom to her gaze. T here
was something odd about it in fact, as if she were apart from the world, eye s that saw beyond
day and night. The eyes of Mother Time, or a Sorceress from his  imagined worlds with the
power to drag down the stars and turn rivers to crystalline  snow, it was unnerving in a way.
But she also made him feel relaxed, quite comfortable. More himself than he had felt for a
very long time, and it was for that reason if f or no other that he had agreed to take her up on
her offer.
They waited in line with the other fancily dressed people, as Anna handed him a large
white cardboard ticket she produced from her purse, women wearing silks and leathers,
women that would make his jaw drop and their partners clean cut in their finest attire, spread
across red carpet with ropes and bollards shining in the evening sunlight.
Anna was telling him how handsome he looked, saying, ‗I can see your name up in
lights,‘ and other positive things to boost his confidence, as she obviously saw and detected
how much that was lacking. It was during this time that they waited and talked casually that
Adem noticed a very tall man striding through the crowd, perhaps the oddest sight he had
ever laid eyes upon anywhere in the world of men!— other than the night he witnessed an
apparition of a man burning blue at Bright.
He had the look of a wizard, a wide brimmed hat with a conical top, a robe and cloak
and he carried a very large twisted staff that he  was using as a walking stick, although the gait
of the bushy bearded fellow showed he had no need for it. Suddenly the man stopped, looked
directly at Adem, and asked  in a deep almost echoing tone, ‗What will be the hour of your
arrival, Son of Odin?‘
It was the name he used that struck Adem like a lightning bolt, as he suddenly
dropped the ticket, and bent down instinctively to catch  it before hitting the ground. B ut when
he looked up again, the man had vanished from the crowd.  There was more to it as well, the
man‘s eyes had glowed like silver orbs when he spoke, and at least in Adem‘s mind he had
seen a flashback of  the images from his nightmare. T he woman and the vortex of flames, the
Dark Lord and those people he knew but was yet to know, and he knew in that moment of
subliminal flashes that this man was somehow connected.
‗Did you see that man?‘  he asked Anna in complete shock.
‗What man?‘  Anna asked with a blank expression.
‗The one who called me: Son of Odin!‘
‗Odin?‘  Anna said wearing a perplexed  expression. ‗ I saw no such man, Adem.  Are
you feeling all right?‘   She put a hand to his head as if to take his temperature like a caring
mother.
‗I  feel  fine,‘  he  said.  ‗Just  my  imagination  playing  tricks  on  me.  I  had  a  strange
nightmare last night, and what the man said to me . . . it was just like in my dream . . . only a
woman said it to me  in my dream, a woman who . . .‘
‗Are  you on any sort of medication?‘  Anna asked with a probing glare.
‗Yes, I do . . . I mean, yes, I am. It‘s a long story. I‘ll tell  you all about it some time. I
will go and speak with my psychiatrist about it in the morning. I hope this does not affect my
cha nces of your becoming my agent?‘  Anna smiled warmly; there was a seductive way about
her. Just then, his mobile phone rang in his pocket. He checked the caller ID and saw it was
his fellow Witness, Carl Wilder. ‗Forgive me while I take this call. It might be important.‘  He
then quickly flipped the phone to answer the call.
‗Carl,  my old mate, how have you been?‘
‗I  had  a  strange  dream  last  night,  Adem,‘  Carl  said,  his  vo ice  sounded  urgent  and
shaken. ‗I‘d call it a nightmare. I have had others like it before, since that night at Bri ght. But
this one was different. There was a woman, a very beautiful woman. She called me  ― Son of
Odin‖ . She said other things to me. She said that I was ‗marked by the Dark One!‘ I woke in
a drenching sweat. Then today I saw a man, who looked like a wizard, and he call ed me ―Son
of Odin!‖ He asked, ― What will be the hour of your arrival?‖‘
‗When did you  see the man?‘  Adem asked. He was surprised the shock of his friend‘s
words had not made him drop the phone, though his hand was shaking; he was shivering all
over with a mixture of amazement and pure fear. ‗I saw him about an hour ago,‘ Carl said.
‗He was standing out the front of my house. So I went outside to tal k to him, and then he said
it, ―Son of Odin!‖  I nearly fell down in shock! Then I turned back to the house for a moment .
. . Rosa called  my  name . . . and when  I  lo oked back . . .  he  had  vanished.  I  thought  you
should be the first one I told. You know more about this sort of th ing than most people.‘
‗You know more than  most people too, my old friend,‘  Adem said, fighting to control
his nerves. ‗I saw the same man, and last night, I had the same d rea m. They both said those
words,  ―Son of Odin‖.  Listen, I want you  to come and see  me  tomorrow . We  have to stay
together and  ride  this thing out. Call William and ask  if  he  has  had  the same  visions and
dreams.  Bring  him with  you. We  need to stay  together.  I have to end  the call  now though,
mate. I‘ll text you when I‘m ready. Bye mate.‘
‗I‘ll  come  right  over,  mate,‘  Carl  said  in  a  surprisingly  calm  voice.  ‗ I‘ll  see  you
tomorrow, with William. I‘ll make sure he comes.‘
‗OK, mate. Speak soon.‘  He flipped the phone back together and put it in his pocket.
‗You are shaking, Adem,‘ Anna said. ‗Your friend saw the same man . . . the one you
said you saw just now?‘
Adem said, ‗My friend is not on any medication, he has a great career, a wife, and a
baby daughter. He‘s not nuts. If he saw the same man, something important is about to take
place. It could mean any number of things.‘
‗It  is a  very  strange coincidence to  say the  least,‘  Anna said  with a puzzled  frown.
‗Are you certain you still want to see the orchestra play?‘
‗Yes, I want to,‘ Adem said. ‗I want to very much, Anna.‘
‗And tomorrow, you can come for a photo shoot. Your friends can come too, Carl and
William, is it? If they are handsome, I will include them in the shoot. Perhaps I will see the
same aura aro und them, or a similar one. It sounds as if you are all connected, perhaps that
has something to do with the aura. I have a gorgeous model to pose with you too    y oung,
blonde, blue eyes, slim, and tall with perfect curves. Jean is her name. Jean Fairsythe . She is
American from Los Angeles, a model and a potential actress. You two will have much to talk
about.‘
‗Sounds perfect,‘  he said. It gave him the perfect excuse to keep his friends close to
him for the rest of the day at least.
‗Wonderful,‘ Anna said with sigh, ‗I will have my crew ready at dawn. You said  early
afternoon though, right?‘
‗Around midday should be fine.  I‘ll text you the address.‘  They were at the front of
the line by now, and the door man took their tickets and waved them towards the go ld- framed
glass double doorway. Adem linked arms with her again, and they made their way inside.
The stairs were red carpeted with gold railings, and they had to climb two levels to get
to their seats. As they  were approaching  the red - painted doorway  to t he entrance to where
their seats were waiting, Anna unlinked arms and said, ‗I have to go, powder my nose. See
you  in there, sweetheart.‘  Adem gave a short bow and smiled as she slipped away down the
red carpeted floor. Chandeliers hung from the high white   plastered ceiling that was worked
with gold cornices in sculptures of cherub angels.
A doorman  was  there to open  the door, dressed  in a  red coat  with  gold and  silver
scrollwork on the shoulders and cuffs, dark  trousers, and knee - high black  leather boots.  A
short stocky  man of  middling  years with a  grey  moustache, close cropped beard, and greyblue eyes.
As the door swung open and Adem stepped into the darkness, he heard the man say,
‗Now  is the  time of  your arrival,  Son of Odin.‘  It  was the  same deep  voice of the  wizardlooking man in the street! Adem spun to face the man; the man‘s eyes glowed with white fire.
The  doorway  and  the  light  beyond  was  swallowed  by  a  vortex  of  shadows.  The  shadows
swirled to become clouds of  fire—strands of  glowing dust burst  from  the clouds  stretching
off into infinity within the darkness, the glowing dust became a flock of doves burning silver,
diving and flowing in and out of focus as a great sea swept upon his vision, as they suddenly
swooped to lift him up into the clouds  above, and when they took flight once more he felt an
amazing rush of energies enter his heart and soul, his mind was alive with Power, as he spun
in circles while climbing higher into the sky as if carried by wings, as lightning fell from the
clouds  to surround  his  form  in  glowing aqua bolts that  increased  his sense of pure  magic
filling  his  mind  and  body,  he  laughed  in  the  ecstasy  of  its  incandescence,  feeling  that  he
might control the very waves as they crashed against the shores of a white cliff coastline, and
he was flying above it all, the seas churning beneath him where he saw Neptune commanding
the waves as the King of the Sea.
He saw that incredible land of his dreams the night before, the parts of his nightmare
that could be called a dream, and ag ain he saw the faces of those remarkable people that he
seemed to know although he had never met them—particularly the faces of two couples, both
looking almost identical except for small details in both the males and females of each pair,
the men dark of  hair and eyes and tall as Vikings, with pointed ears of elf- kin, high brows and
close cropped  moustaches and  goatees, the  women beautiful beyond comparison  with  milk
white skin and eyes of blue flame, the wives to the two men, each wearing a golden crown o f
jewels, and these four commanded a vast portion of Power of this land, and they were among
its rulers, as he saw them leading their armies in battles against the demons of this world —
and he could never know such people as they were magicians and sorceres ses, warriors, kings
and queens, yet he knew them, or he knew at least that he would come to know them, in this
vast land of magic and wonders.
He saw the  way they  lived  in enormous cities  and castles, or palaces of  high stone
walls,  to keep the demons at  bay, and  he saw  the southern  regions beyond  the  mountains
where  bloodsucking  vampires—with  eyes  like  dark  seeds  and  pale  faces,  fangs  and  other
strange features—and werewolves—massive wolf skulled heads and maws filled with razor
sharp fangs that dripped t he fresh bright red blood of their victims in the moonlight, formed
like  muscular  male  humans though  usually covered  in a thick shag of  grey or dark  fur, or
covered in a thick hide of dark skin, fists like bear claws and dark eyes that stared upon their
victims  like  some  stalking  demonic—ruled  the  peoples  of  those  lands  through  fear  and
dominance, and the  Eastlands where the demons—of dark skin and scaled  hides, skulls of
rams or bulls with dark horns and blazing red eyes—and other creatures and foul beasts of the
Shadow  held  dominion,  turning  plant  and  animal  life  to  horrid  despicable  life  forms,  or
devouring and burning everything in their path with a corruptive vengeance.
Then  he also saw  more powerful beings  like  the Sea God  he  had  named Neptune,
Gods of Earth and Sky, of Forests and Rivers, demigods with incredible powers of lightning
and fire, that they wielded—along with enchanted weapons that glowed with pure magic as
they unleashed powerful energies against their enemies —and aided the people of thes e lands
to  battle  the  servants  of  Corruption,  tall  and  mighty  and  unrelenting  in  their  paths  of
destruction, and  he  felt  that  he knew these beings also, as  if  their  history and their  names
were  just  beneath  the  surface  of  his  memory,  but  it  was  a  barrier  he  could  not  yet  pass
through to  gain  that precious knowledge,  yet he knew them, and he  felt that  they were the
keepers of justice and the true protectors of the realm.
Thunder like the roar of  a thousand king lio ns boomed in his ears as the winds sucked
him down a swirling grey vortex to land on bended knee against the dark soil and stone of the
Eastlands with a heavy thud that sent shockwaves flying from his form and seemed to make
the earth tremble.  Adem  stood on solid ground once more, and he  turned in t he direction  the
orchestra should have been—as the place he had stood only moments before was still a part
of his memory, though the majesty of this place was pulling apart his perceptions of reality,
like  a  tangled  dream  that  weaves  itself  around  consciousness,  fooling  you  to  believe  it  is
real —and before his eyes was a wall of grey stone, rising sixty feet or more into a grey sky of
dark clouds and forked lightning!
A  fierce  storm  of  wind  and  rain  belted  against  his  skin  and  bones,  as  the  thunder
echoed again like a God of Chaos, and he felt great evil from this place, suddenly so different
from  the  invigorating  and  revitalising  emotions  he  had  felt  moments  before  when  seeing
those people and their demigods, he felt this place was crushing down upon his s oul, like dark
gravity that sucks upon the life threads of happiness and calm, bringing a deep sense of fear,
sorrow, pain and heartache, as he suddenly thought of his beloved parents, apparently now so
far away from him, and he perhaps only seconds away f rom that promised death, where he
would meet the Dark Lord and become his servant!
The grey stone wall  was ruined to the point that it appeared divided in the centre, and
a grey stone path was paved stretching  into the distance.  A grey tower over a hundre d  feet
high rose  into the raging clouds  that seemed to radiate an ominous threat of disaster, as  he
sensed that it was at least part of the overwhelming force of chaos within this place, a source
of evil penetrating the very fibres of human existence to the point that he only wished to fall
down there and then, give up and die if it would only bring his suffering to an end .
The tower was perfectly rectangular and over thirty paces wide though  larger at the
base than the t ip, for some reason he was suddenly   fixated on such details, perhaps to draw
his  mind  away  from  the spiritual torment by  focusing on abstract physical  features of  the
landscape.  The front of the tower was  facing him flatly; the dark pock marked stone seemed
to  glow  like polished  tar  lit  wit h dark  fires.  A  large rectangular wooden door stood at  its
centre base,  a  much smaller door  within  the door  swung open, and a dwarf - sized  creature
stepped from the doorway.
Adem‘s mouth was hanging open in shock at the vision. He would have been certain
h e  was  having  a  relapse  if  Carl  had  not  called  him  about  the  dream  and  the  vision.  But
common  sense  told  him  all  that  he  had  just  witnessed  was  far  beyond  any  simple
hallucination, it was real, it was as solid a reality as walking into a bar and picking up  a pint
of beer.
The creature that strolled towards him through the rain was short and stocky with dark
olive- green skin. Its eyes were  large yellow ovals that  glowed  like  lanterns.  The  first  word
that sprang to mind was Goblin.  He focused on the physical features of the creature again to
distract  his  mind  from  that ominous  force.  The creature wore a dark  green hooded robe of
wool with a matching long sleeved vest, dark leather trousers, and knee- high brown leather
boots. A short blade that looked the right size for a sword for the creature hung from a brown
belt balanced by a small quiver. A short horn bow stuck up above its shoulder with a leather
strap  for the case stretched across  its chest. Its  nose was  long and pointed  like some  giant
malformed gherkin.
The creature  stood a  few paces away  from  him  when  it said,  ―My  master has been
waiting for you according to the Prophecies of the Arrival.‖ Its voice was harsh and almost
squeaky like a toad. He noted the capital in the word ‗Arrival.‘ ―Come this way, Son of Odin.
You have much to learn. We will show you the O ld  Ways, the ways of the Shadow.‖ His last
word was enough to tell him he was in the wrong place with the wrong people, but he had
known he  was  in the wrong place  long before  he  met this odd  little ta lking thing.  Then  he
heard horse hooves clipping across the paved stone.
From  beyond  the  tower,  a  dark  horse  and  dark- cloaked  rider  appeared.  The  rider
stopped in front of the tower, and Adem felt great evil radiating from this cloaked figure. It
was the  same as the evil force he had  felt from the ghosts at Bright;  only this one was much
stronger than the  male  ghost of  Bright,  this figure of shadows was  many  times stronger. At
that moment he also knew this being was the main source of evil that had permeat ed the very
air  he breathed when  first arriving  at this  location, a kind of demigod of  malevolence.  The
force was a crushing claw gripping inside his chest and choking out his every desperate gasp
for breath . Adem n early fell to his knees in fear, despite  a kind of resilience within his soul
that  was  forged  to  become  something  apart  from  the  average  mortal  man,  and  this  was
perhaps the only thing that was still keeping him on his feet.   He was trembling and his teeth
chattered. He fought for coura ge, the way   he had that night at  Bright.
He  had to  remind  himself that  he was an  immortal soul also, and  that  these cursed
spirits  may  be  stronger  in  some  ways,  but  they  were  weaker  in  others.  That  was  his
philosophy with ghosts at least. He had learnt that night that ghosts carry a powerful taint of
corruption upon their souls that they may radiate within the location they are haunting—that
much was plainly evident and also linked to this experience here and now. But he had also
told his  friends that night that  living  human souls  had to be protected  in some ways by the
human body as a physical barrier, that should  make a  living  soul  in some  ways stronger  in
terms of spirit than a cursed ghost—however this evil spirit had a physical body, so he was
not sure what to think right at this moment about who was stronger, but he was guessing it
was the dark  cloaked figure. It   drew a long sword of darkness that  glowed with a blood red
fire. ‗Son of Odin,‘  it  spoke  in a voice like rotting flesh and bones being crushed under sto ne,
the wail of tortured souls seemed to pierce the air; darkness seemed to close in all around him
with  its tones  that  reminded  him of death, agony,  malevolence and  hatred. ‗We  have been
waiting for you, in accordance with the Prophecies of the Arrival. W here are your  Brothers?
The Prophecies always spoke of three Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. Speak now, or
I shall have your tongue.‘
In a blur of thought, Adem had his phone out in an instant. He flipped the lid open and
held  it  out threateningly  like  it  was a  gun or a bomb.  The phone  glowed brightly, and  the
Goblin creature stared at it with a curious frown. The Shadow Rider  –  that was the name he
gave it – appeared to hesitate a moment, his horse seeming ready to charge but faltering for a
moment.   Then the horse began to bolt towards him, the beast screamed in a way that spoke
volumes  of  the  dark  magic  wrapped  upon  its  soul,  and  why  else  would  a  horse  serve  a
creature so foul and terrifying.
The next moments were a blur as  Adem turned to run into the darkness behind him . .
. the darkness became swirls of molten fire like a whirlpool doorway  of lava in shadows, he
saw  the demigods swooping down  to  his rescue; angel winged  male and  female spirits of
burning gold, crimson or aqua. Some tall as giants  wielded axes or swords that glowed with
bright energy, while female angels carried blazing red spears or branches of burning white;
they appeared out of the  clouded sky above  in a beam of pure  light.  He  heard  the angels
singing, the voices joining with the beam of light to produce a feeling of freedom, elation and
ecstasy within, warming his core with a bright glow that washed away the ice of horrors he
had faced, the claw of Corruption that had threatened to take his life, and that evil horsemen
from his worst nightmares.
All he could do was run, but as the light touched down upon him he found that he was
lifted while running, up into the sky, until each footstep touched down on invisible steps that
lifted  him  higher  like a  glass escalator. Lightning  filled the sky  and plummeted all around
him, as he looked back to see the bolts causing ruin to the Rider and Goblin and their kin that
swarmed around the  tower, but still  he ran. With the  warm  fires  in  his chest,  fear washing
away, the songs of angels  in  his  ears . . . the burning beam  became a rectangular doorway
opening  into a room of  light . . .  the  hallway  where the doorman  had called  him ‗Son of
Odin.‘ Anna stood in the doorway with the grey moustached man holding the door for her.
The man chuckled and looked at Adem with a glint of mirth in his eyes.
―Are  you all  right,  Adem?‖  Anna asked.  ―You still  look quite  frightened.  You  are
trembling with terror. Did the darkness scare you? What was it?‖ Adem noticed more lights
reflecting  off  the  dark  walls  within  the  doorway.  He  turned  to  see  red  and  green  lights
glowing  in  the  distance,  red  seats  formed  a  raked  staircase  leading  down  to  a  large  stage
where the grey stone tower had stood moments before. The orchestra began to play.
―You  are  all  wet!‖  Anna  exclaimed  as  she  ran  a  finger  down  his  cheek.  ―Is  that
sweat?‖
―It  must be,‖  Adem said,  fighting  to control  his shivering and  clenching  his  jaw to
keep his teeth from chattering. But it was not sweat. He never sweated. It was rain. And he
was  standing  inside  a  thea tre  with  a  closed  ceiling!  He  clutched  the  phone  in  a  white knuckled grip before putting  it back  in his pocket slowly. Taking the phone out  his pocket
had been real at  least. He knew however that everything  he had just experienced  had  to be
real.
But that’s impossible!   He thought  frantically.  Ghosts are real, God is real, even the
Devil is real, but there is only one reality! There is only one real world! The rest is imagined!
It must be! But it was real! The Goblin, the Shadow Rider, it was all  too real!
The  orchestra  resonated  in  his  ears,  including  harp  strings,  violins,  and  cellos.  It
reminded him of the guitar strings. It reminded him of Bright.
―You  look  terrified,  duckling,‖  Anna  said  soothingly.  ―Here,  take  a  seat  and  rest.
Breathe deeply. What was  it you saw? Tell me. You can tell me anything, and I will believe
you. You have the aura, remember.‖
Considering doing further damage to his relationship with his potential agent, Adem
sat and began  to take deep slow breaths. He  was  not  going  to tell  Anna   what  he saw, but
tomorrow, he was certainly going to tell Carl and William. If they had had similar visions by
tomorrow when he saw them, he would know he was not losing the plot.
When he arrived home, his father was seated on the couch in front of the widescreen
television. Commercials were playing, and the almost  bizarre  nature of their jargon appeared
dazing  to  Adem  in  his  current  state  of  mind.  His  father  was  snoring  with  his  head  tilted
against his chest, his large square- shaped spectacles still on his face. Adem thought his father
was always sleep deprived  –  the reason he nearly always fell asleep in front of the television
– though he always stayed up late and got up early. Six hours or so was enough sleep for him,
or so he thought.
It was after midnight. Adem shook his father gently and called his name until the old
man opened his eyes and dazedly nodded and raised his head.
‗Fa lling asleep on the couch again: Dad? Go to bed,‘ Adem said softly.
‗I will,‘   his father replied, and then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep as he
always  did  before  the  third  or  fourth  attempt  to  wake  him.  This  time  it  only  took  three
attempts, and as  his  father stood and stumbled towards the bedroom,  Adem turned off  the
television and moved to turn off the lamp. Before he did, he glanced around the large sitting
room that was joined to a kitchen with black marble benches. The ceilings were over twenty
feet high of white plaster with thick dark wooden beams sloping down from a red and brown
brick wall.  S liding glass dou ble doors served as a divider to the pool table room. The house
was on two acres with a long red gravel driveway and beautiful gardens. There was a view of
the l ake from the front of the house, t hey had a pool and a tennis court, and the real lounge
room was a  large sunke n area with a similar  high roof.  The bedrooms and bathrooms were
down the long hallway that stretched off the pool room at the opposite end of the house.
He turned off  the  lamp and turned his  head as  if to walk to  his bedroom . . . A red
l ight began to glow in the distance . . . so far off he knew it was beyond the material walls of
his living room. The glow  released a blast of energy as it  floated towards him, surrounding a
tall, h ooded figure cloaked in shadows as a rumble of thunder shook the atmosphere.  Caverns
of endless flame glowed within the cowl  of the figure, two burning eyes of orange- gold. An
evil voice boomed in his ears  like the  thunder, ―Son of Odin! I have come for you! It is time
for you to kneel at the feet of my master! Th e Dark One calls!‖
Immense  waves  of  evil  force  radiated  from  this  shadow  being,  waves  ten   times
stronger than the Shadow Rider! Any mortal man would have fallen to his knees and begged
for  mercy,  begged  and  pleaded  and  promised  anything  just  to  be  release d  from  those
punishing waves! But Adem‘s spirit was  made of stronger  mettle than any  mortal  man. He
stood proudly before the Shadow Man, gritting his teeth and glaring defiantly as he  said, ‗I
call upon the Power of the  Holy Trinity. I call on their Power to cast you out, demon .‘  
The words were all  his own  –  though when he said, ‗I call upon their Power to cast
you out, demon ,‘–  the voice was something not of this world; it boomed even louder than the
voice of the Shadow Man, like  the roar of ten thousand  lions.  It seemed that those last words
had come from someone else‘s mind also, a mind within his own mind, and in that instant, he
saw the face of a tanned skinned man with a black beard and moustache and long dark waves
of hair falling to his shoulders. The figure wore a pale brown woollen robe that was soaked in
blood, a crown of  thorns  upon  his brow dug  into  his  skull drawing  more blood.  The  first
thought that came to mind was Jesus Christ!
Blinding light filled his vision, enveloping the Shadow Man and  fanning outwards in
an expl osive blast like an atomic bomb. Suddenly there were at least two dozen dark cloaked
figures hovering in the surrounding shadows, and as the light touched their crimson glowing
forms each was surrounded by a series of dark cross es that burned white hot, as each figure
began to wail in anger, both male and female voices as the light of the crosses tore shreds off
their dark cloaked figures. The shadows becoming burning white light as their voices became
screams of fear expressing agony.  The sound he heard next was like all matter in the universe
being consumed  in a single  heartbeat. In that  instant, the  light  was consumed by shadows,
like a  giant star- sized  vacuum sucking  in the atomic blast and  making  it shrink back  to a
single po int the size of a pea. The tiny ball of light hovered in front of Adem within endless
shadows. Then darkness  except  for the pale blue  moonlight  that poured through the  large
glass  windows  of  his  living  room.  He  gasped  for  breath  and  stumbled  towards  the  light
switch.
He stood there shivering in the light of the living room for some time until his mother
appeared in the hallway in her pink silk dressing gown. His mother was chest height on him,
slim with blue eyes,  and dark hair in a long tail. ‗What are yo u still doing up?‘ she asked. ‗Is
your  father  in bed?‘  She  looked weary as  if  she had just  woken. ‗ You‘re shaking! What  is
wrong  with  you?  Have  you  taken  your  medication?‘  Adem  steadied  himself,  took  a  deep
breath, and replied, ‗ Yes, but I think I will take more to get a good night‘s sleep.‘  He quickly
thought   up a lie to cover as he said, ‗ I must have fallen asleep on the couch, I ha d nightmare .
. . about Bright.‘ His mother shook her head and sighed before she said, ‗Did you have a good
night?‘
‗I did,‘  he lied,  though the orchestra was enjoyable when he could soothe his nerves.
‗It‘ s rare to  get a bit of culture,‘  he said, and then  he  managed a smirk. His  mother smiled
sadly a nd said, ‗ Yes, well, you will be getting more of that when you are a big movie  s tar.
Did Anna have a good time?‘
‗She is hooking m e up with a hot American model,‘  he said with an even broader grin.
‗Jean  Fairsythe,  blonde  hair,  blue  eyes,  gorgeous  she  says.  We‘re  doing  a  photo  shoot
tomorrow afternoon. Carl and William are gonna join   us.‘  Adem was just over six feet tall,
blue eyed with long dark brown hair that he always tied back in a ponytail. He had a thick
ginger moustache that curved down his face like horns and a triangle of hair from below his
bottom lip that currently extended lower than his chin.
‗Well, I hope this Jean girl is closer to your own age. It‘s not right, a woman as old as Anna
taking a handsome young man out to th e orchestra. It‘s very strange.‘
‗She‘s my agent,‘ Adem said shyly. ‗Did you hear anything just now?‘ 
‗Something woke me,‘   his mother said as she rubbed her head, ‗ like a loud crash, a
boom, like thunder. Is it raining?‘
‗Not sure, but I thought I heard thunder too,‘  Adem said calmly.
He followed his mother down the hall after turning off the living room  light but not
before turning on the hallway light, then his bedroom light. He changed out of  the suit and
into his tracksuit;  then sat in front of the computer, checking emails, looking on the internet,
and then  meditating on  his recent experiences to try  to  gain a sense of calm.  He stayed  up
long into the night after a double dose of his medication. He did not want to take any sleeping
tablets  as  he  feared  being  trapped  in  another  one  of  those  insane  dreams.  Normally,  a
nightmare would not bother him, but  when nightmares started walking in the waking world,
you had to stand up and take note.
He decided against visiting his psychiatrist the next morning. He could speak with his
friends first and see what they had to say. It was three in the morning when he  was about to
go to bed when he received a text message.
It was from Carl Wilder. It read . . . ―Had another nightmare!  Frowny-face.  This one
was about a  man  made of shadows  with eyes of  flame! He said  he  had come to  take  me!
William  just  called  me about an hour ago, and  he  had the exact same  nightmare!  Frownyface.‖
He  sent  a  reply  text  to  Carl.  It  read,  ―Call  you  in  the  morning  .  .  .  Three  frownyfaces!!!‖ The third frowny face and subsequent triple exclamation marks was as far as he was
willing to go to  try to explain by text that Adem had also had the same nightmare  –  only he
was certain he had been awake at the time! He was seriously concerned that one of the three
Sons of Odin was not going to wake in the morning.
Chapter
2
Jean Fairsythe
The next morning Adem woke at nine. He was relieved that he had had no nightmares that he
could remember. He could  not remember any of  his dreams  in  fact. He checked  his phone,
and  there were  no  messages  from Carl.  He  sent  him  a text  that read,  ‗Come over straight
away. Bring William.‘  A few minutes later, he got a  text back from Carl that read, ‗On my
way.  We will be there  in  less than an  hour.   Smiley -face.‘  Adem sent a text back with three
smiley faces.
He stood off the side of his bed, walked to the bathroom, a nd got ready for a shower.
He checked  his reflection;  he  had dimples, something  he didn‘t think of often as  he rarely
smiled when  he  looked  in  the  mirror.  He rarely smiled properly  in photos either.  That  was
something he would need to work on for the photo   shoot. He practiced smiling a few times
till it looked natural, then stripped and turned on the hot water. He hoped he did not have any
visions while in the shower!
Please, no more visions,  he thought, as he stepped under the shower head after turning
the cold tap on slightly. He was glad when he finished, dried, and dressed without seeing any
goblins, Shadow Men, or Shadow Riders!
His  mother asked  him  when  his  friends were arriving, and  he said, ‗Soon.‘  He just
then remembered to text his address to Ann a. She sent a  text back immediately saying, ‗Me
and my crew will be there in an hour! Smiley-face.‘
He told his father about the plans for  the day, and his father said, ‗That‘s good! Do  you know
if you will get paid?‘  The man would still insist on work every day even if there was  no  pay.
His father was a little shorter than him though easily six feet tall. He had a full head of greystreaked dark black hair, short and neatly cut. His close cropped black beard and moustache
was also  getting closer to a total  grey - white every day  now.  Mostly  he was calm  and well mannered,  a  kind  and  proper  gentleman.  He  was  a  rare  breed  of  man,  disciplined  and
civilized, very knowledgeable about all manner of things that never ceased to amaze Adem.
Jason‘s skill  with  machinery   was  his  greatest  form of knowledge, at  least  the  most
useful. Cars, televisions,  vacuum cleaners, you  name  it,  he should be able to  fix  it once  he
pulled it apart and saw how it was made. And he was an all- round handy man with a large
shed full of tools.  Today he wore blue jeans and a dark blue polo shirt that were his knock around- the- house clothes with grey socks. ‗No, I don‘t think I get paid for the  photo shoot,‘
Adem explained. ‗They are very expensive, and it sounds like Anna  has offered to do it for
free.‘  He did his best to manage a confident smile. Inside, however, he was  still a complete
nervous wreck.
Ten minutes later, Carl rang his mobile to say he was out the front. Adem raced from
his bedroom to the front door where he saw Carl standing in the large glass windows beside
the  lacquered wooden door. Carl  was almost as tall as Adem. Carl  was  fair - skinned,  grey blue eyes with short, spiked blond hair. Adem was slightly anxious to see for sure that Wil
was there also. Then he opened the door to see  that Wil  was  there. They both smiled though
he could see the terror in the eyes of both of his friends. The last time he saw that look was
when they were getting haunted on a loft in the middle of the night near Bright.
‗So, the three Sons of Odin are to ge ther once more!‘  Adem said in a strong voice that
he  tried  to  fill  with  courage.  They  grinned  at  that,  though,  they  looked  only  a  little  less
terrified. They  went out to the   tennis court to have a quick discussion before Anna arrived.
He told them about the photo shoot first, and the y looked thrilled at the idea. ‗ Jea n Fairsythe
is all mine though,‘  Adem said to Wil.
‗I only  want to  know what  the  hell  is  going on,‘   Wil said  through clenched teeth.
‗Dark- cloaked riders on dark horses, men with eyes of fire and voices like thunder.‘
‗And a  wizard  was standing outside  my  house!‘  Carl cried and  then  looked around
nervously. The neighbours were close but not that close. Still,  Adem  thought better of it and
said, ‗I don‘t  want Anna and  her crew  hearing  us talking  about this  insanity and especially
not Jean Fairsythe. We will stay together for the whole day, and if Carl can arrange with Rosa
to spend the night here, I say that you should stay too, Wil.  I f we are all together . . . and we
have another one of these visions . . . maybe it will be a shared vision . . . just like at Bright.‘
Carl and Wil agreed it was a good plan. They then went inside to wait for Anna, and
Adem made them all coffees and offered some jam scones with cream his mother had baked
the day be fore. As he took his first sip of coffee, he had a craving for a cigarette, but he knew
Carl disapproved of his smoking. Then Wil asked him, ―Ciggie?‖ and produced a pack of his
favourite brand of smokes. The result was another quick rehash of the events a t Bright  –  out
the backyard on the concrete paving  in  front of  his  lazy chairs  –  with Carl  and Wil  both
confirming they remembered the event the same as Adem did.
Adem did not bother to rehash on the details of their recent dreams or visions, despite
the s imilarities, such as the name ‗Son of Odin,‘ because they were not shared experiences, so
it could never be proved to be more than coincidentally similar hallucinations or dreams.
They then  sat on the three canvas chairs   and smoked and drank their coffees,  Adem
asking Wil about  his work situation and Carl telling Adem  he had recently been promoted.
Wil looked the spitting image of his father   tall, long rectangular face, dark eyes, and shortspiked brown hair.
About a half hour later, Anna rang his phone  to tell him they were out the front. He
made his way to the front door after stepping inside to tell his parents they were leaving. Carl
and  Wil  said  goodbye  to  Jason  and  Marion,  then  stepped  out  the  front  door.  Anna  was
waiting on the front red brick- tile  paved porch. She wore blue jeans and a bulky white blouse
today with a red kerchief tying back her hair.
She smiled brightly  at the three boys, then said, ‗ You all have a great aura about you,
and there is a connection between the auras I can see it. Yours is much brighter today than it
was last night, Adem. And you are all  so  handsome. I will make film stars out of all three of
you if I have my way. Come, meet the crew, and mo st importantly, Adem meet Jean.‘
This time Adem really did stumble when he looked up to set eyes on Jean Fairsythe.
‗You must be Adem, I have heard so much about you,‘ she smiled, and it sent rockets
exploding in his soul. Her crystal blue eyes were like big shining pools you could drown in.
Her  hair was  long  golden silk and tied back  in a tail with a red  hair tie. Her skin was pale
white, smooth like butter and cream, and her cheeks were slightly rounded when she smiled
though she had a strong muscular jaw and cheekbones. She wore a skimpy blue plaid tennis
skirt and a white blouse t hat gleamed in the sunlight with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
‗You are more beautiful than I could have prepared myself for,‘ Adem said attempting
to sound immediately charming. ‗ These are my best friends, Carl and Will iam. We call him
Wil for short.‘  Jean shook each of their hands in introduction and her wide red - lipped smile
was stunning with gleaming pearl white teeth. His two friends appeared equally stunned over
Jean and her outfit. She was simply breathtaking. She was about of equal height wit h Adem.
Adem wore dark  navy blue jeans with orange stitching;  his black sneakers  with the
fluorescent green soles, a black T- shirt with a white lion‘s face symbol, and his black leather
jacket. His hair was brushed and tied back in a tail with a black hair  tie, and he wore his navy
blue baseball cap.
Anna had told him to dress neat and casual, and although he forgot to mention it to the
boys in his text to Carl last night, the other two Sons of Odin also looked fit for adventure in
blue jeans and sneakers.  Carl wearing a clean white- collared shirt  under a  navy blue  finely
cut  thin  woollen  sweater.  Wil  wore  a  pale  grey  T- shirt  with  a  black  outline  of  an  Asian
dragon on it,  under a brown waist- length stylish leather jacket. They looked the part. The rest
of th e crew who were two male photographers and a female assistant all said quick greetings
and waved, and then they were all climbing into the minibus.
They drove to the countryside in  the same direction as the town   where the three boys
had  gone  to  high  school   together. Adem  was  not sure  where they  were  exactly when  they
finally arrived at about two o‘clock, but they drove through  the town  and stopped for a pint at
the  local  brewery  on  the  way  there.  Adem  tried  the  stout  which  is  a  mixture  of  coffee,
caramel, chocolate, and other hints of various flavours. He normally did not drink stouts, but
Wil recommended it. Adem ate a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich  served in a sourdough
roll  with a rich  golden  mayonnaise. He kept wiping  his  face as the  mayo  got stuck o n  his
moustache, and he did not want Jean to think he was a pig.
He still always opened a door for any lady, and he made sure he held it open for Jean
while everyone made their way inside. Jean was last, and she smiled warmly and gave him a
light tap on t he nose as she said, ‗You are a fine gentleman, Adem. Thank you. There are not
enough young men in this day and age who uphold the old values and customs, pa rticularly
how to treat a lady.‘
‗My  father always told  me to open and hold the door  for a  lady,‘  Adem said. ‗ And
you  my darling are such a  Lady.‘  He  made sure he held the door open  for everyone when
they left too, but that time, Jean only smiled in gratitude and climbed in the minibus without a
word. He hoped it was not his table manners. During the re maining journey, he was horrified
when Jean started to chat up Carl.
He was relieved when Carl admitted he had a wife and daughter however, as that was
when she gave up interest. If she made a move on Wil, he thought he might burst into tears
right there  in the van. He was falling hopelessly in love with Jean every second that he gazed
into her big blue eyes.
They arrived at the location and unpacked the gear; Adem, Carl, and Wil helped while
Anna  and  Jean  picked  out  the  views.  They  eventually  decided  they  would  shoot  with  the
brown  river  flowing  in  the  background,  on  the  grass  by  the  riverbank.  Forest- covered
mountains  stood  high  in  the  background  on  the  far  side  of  the  river,  and  Scottish  thistles
sprouted up out of the long dry grasses. Rabbits hopped al ong on the hillsides, and magpies
swooped over the river to pick for grubs in the soil. They heard a kookaburra  in a tree close to
the river and eventually saw it swoop down into the tall grasses. Adem guessed it must have
been after a king brown snake, so  he warned Anna and Jean not to go near that area.
Where they were setting up to shoot was short grass for miles all around the hillside
as a result of controlled burn offs with some green sprouting in a thin carpet- like layer.
To Adem‘s delight, Anna set   him up for the first hour of photos, posing with just him
and Jean. Sometimes Anna told  him  to take off  his cap and jacket, then to wear the jacket,
then the hat, and then both.
Jean was amazing  in  the  way she posed and presented  herself  with  her comical   or
sexy expressions; she was a true star in the making. Adem thought she had the potential t o be
the biggest film star ever.  He forgot his fears, the visions, and the nightmares, forgot all his
bad memories while he posed with her, played in front of the  camera and held her  in his arms.
For the first time  he could remember,  he was more than just content, more than happy.
When  Anna  called  for  a  quick  break,  Jean  wound  her  long  skinny  arms  around
Adem‘s  neck  and  laid  a  soft  kiss  right  on  his  lips.  ‗Nice  work ing  with  you,  Adem
Highlander.‘
Anna told Carl and Wil to jump in for the next series of shots as she said, ‗I want you
all  in  it together. I  hope to capture your shared auras. Yours  is  very bright when  you stand
with Adem too, Jean. Now crowd together, like a family portrait, big smiles.‘
Adem heard harp strings strummed. He thought at first he had imagined it, but then
the sound came again, three distinctly plucked strings, then another three. He was standing
behind Jean, holding his arms around her waist, staring at the camera with Carl  and Wil on
either  side of  him. ‗ Does  anyone else  hear  harp strings?‘ he asked. The  first  few  had been
faint, though they had grown louder each time.
‗I heard them!‘ Jean cried. ‗I thought I was imagining things.‘
‗I heard  them too,‘ Carl said,  sounding a little uneasy.
‗Me too,‘ Wil said.
Adem held on to Jean with one arm as he turned to face the water . . . the water had
turned sparkling blue. The sky that was mostly covered with grey skies before he turned his
head  was  c lear  bright  blue  skies  behind  him  with  a  scattering  of  fluffy  white  clouds  that
glowed  incandescent  in  the sunlight. The sun was also directly overhead, suggesting  it was
midday! It must have been past three o‘clock by now!
But that was  not what stunned him completely;  it was  the strange  grey stone tower
rising from an island in the centre of the water that was now a huge   lake rather than a wide
river!—A  lake  that  stretched  off  into  the  horizon  with  massive  blue  stone  mountains  and
snow- capped peaks piercing the clouds rising in the distance. The mountains were also much
taller than the ones that had been there a moment before.
Then the sounds came again, three strings plucked one after the other. The sound of
each  reverberated  through the air  like a  siren  song,  growing  louder and  more distinct each
time.  Then  a  flute  began  to  play,  clear  and  harmonious,  loud,  and  strong.  It  was  a  tune
unfamiliar to Adem‘s ears, but it was beautiful, deep and mysterious, and pure and wise. He
turned back to see Anna standing   in  front of  the photographers. She  looked  at  Adem and
smiled; that glint of mirth in her dark eyes.  
Then  Anna,  the  crew,  the  bushland  were  all  swallowed  by  a  vortex  of  light  and
shadows  like a  whirlpool doorway—the  light exploded  into tiny  filaments of b urning  gold
and white energies that broke off in different directions to take the forms of birds flying in the
distance.  A  void  of  shadows  with  incredible  depths  subverted  the  image  of  Anna  and  the
ph otographers until they vanished within the burning tunne l that opened before them, as more
light spiralled through the darkness as if boring a massive hole through space and time. The
coils of energy began to flare and crackle like lightning bolts as a soft rumbling like thunder
filled the darkness and the  light. A burning brilliance began to dominate over the shadows,
burning away the void as a bright ball of light appeared high above. It was the sun shining in
a sky of blue.
As the  new dimension behind  Adem  forged with  the  vision  that  opened  up before
them, a ll  in a  matter of a  few seconds,  it seemed the  four of them stood paralysed, while a
sensation of a great shift took over Adem. It was as if he were being moved through space at
a hurtling speed, crossing over to another dimension that stood next door or p ossibly in the
next  galaxy —to  reveal  more  bright  blue  skies,  miles  of  lush  bright  green  pasture  –  with
hundreds  of  deer  and  a  king  stag  grazing  –  stretching  off  into  more  rows  of  jagged  blue
mountains with gleaming white peaks. A warm breeze swept over his  face when the wind had
been  blowing  opposite  and  chilly  a  moment  before.  In  his  stunned  amazement  and
fascination,  he hardly registered the  voices around  him. It took  him a  moment to realise  he
still had an arm around Jean‘s waist, and she was gripping his wrist and digging in her long
sharp pink fingernails till he thought she might draw blood.
‗Where are we?‘ she asked slowly. ‗What just happened?‘
‗This is real!‘  Wil shouted, and Adem turned to see his friends were there also! Wil
was picking tufts of the soft green grass and letting it fall through his fingers to float on the
breeze. Carl bent to pick a small flower with pink and blue petals. He sniffed deeply, drawing
in the scent; then he said, ‗It is real.‘
‗Someone please tell me what the hell  is go ing on?‘ Jean asked. ‗I mean, I don‘t mean
to freak out or anything but look at this place! Where did the  crew  go? Where did Anna  go?‘
She still gripped his wrist but was no longer digging in her nails. Then she turned to
him with shock and wo nder in her  eyes as she asked, ‗ Adem, did you do this? Did you bring
us here? Or was it all three of you? The three Sons of Odin? This is gonna sound weird but
now is a time for  crazy.  I had a dream last night, and all three of your faces were in it, even
though I hav e never seen any of you three in my life until I met you today!
‗There  was  a  woman, a dark- haired, dark- eyed woman. She was  very pretty, but I
knew there was something not right about her. She told me  you three were the Sons of Odin .
. . she called me th e Daughter of Thor . . . she said the Dark One wanted us all . . . and then . .
. I feel dizzy.‘  Adem caught her in his arms as she suddenly closed her eyes and fainted.
‗What the hell is going on?‘  Wil asked. ‗She had the same dream too? What does she
hav e to do with any of this? She‘s not a . . . a Witness.‘
The  harp  and  flute  were  growing  louder  now,  alluring  in  its  tune,  drawing  them
towards its source, the isla nd was the source. A drum began, t hen a voice was heard, a female
voice, Adem thought  he might shed tears when he heard how beautiful  it   was, the voice of an
angel. Then more female voices began; the words were in another language a language that
sounded  like  the  songs  of  the  elves.   He  looked  to  the  water  again,  and  he  saw  a  boat  of
golden light  floating from the island towards the shore that was white sandy  beaches. ‗Look
there,‘ Carl said, pointing at the boat.
‗It‘s a boat,‘ Wil said. ‗Do we trust them?‘
‗The y sound  like  my kind of people,‘  Carl  said with one of  his wide grins of  faith;
arms crossed over his chest. ‗ Let‘s go  find out exactly who they are.‘
‗Wait till Jean recovers first,‘  Adem said. ‗We can‘t leave her alone for a second in
this place. You saw that Shadow Man with your o wn eyes, and the Shadow Rider? We can‘t
leave her alone for a second the entire time we are in this . . . wherever we are. We will have
to sleep with one eye open until we can find some peop le we are certain we can trust.‘
‗We can trust them,‘ Carl said facing the tower and the source of the angelic singing.
Adem asked his old friend, ‗ How do you know that?  You sense something to confirm
that we can trust them?‘
‗God is sending m e a message about these voices,‘  Carl agreed. ‗The message is that
we can trust them before we dare trust anyone else  in this world.‘  Adem   was  fanning Jean
with  his  hat  for some time  until  she opened  her eyes and sighed before she  asked timidly,
‗Was it all just a bad dream?‘
‗You want the long answer or the short one?‘ Wil asked with a bland expression. Jean
tried to sit up, so the three bo ys rushed to help her to her feet, and Adem continued to lend
support as she l ooked around and finally said, ‗Oh my God.‘
Adem pointed to the boat and said to Jean softly, ‗We can get across to the island, and
Carl is certain  we can trust these . . . angels.  Anyway, we all agreed we won‘t take our eyes
off you for a second until we know  they are  people we can trust.  You are safe with the three
Sons of Odin, Jean Fairsythe.‘ He tried to give her a confident smile to ease her nerves.
‗Can‘t  you call  someone  to  get us out of  here,‘  Jean asked  in a  light tone, ‗like the
police; search and rescue; or anyone?‘
‗I don‘t know  if the police can  reach  us  here,‘  Carl said  with the  same bright- eyed
grin. Adem pulled out his phone and flipped it.
‗My battery‘s flat,‘  he said, just now realising he did not charge it overnight like he
usually always did,  as he wanted his phone switched on beside his bed,  in case Carl tried to
text or call him again during the night. Carl  pulled out his phone and said, ‗ I‘ve got battery ,
but no signal.‘
‗I‘ve got battery!‘  Wil cried nervously, and then he held his phone up high for a few
moments,  moving  it left and right through the air before he said, ‗Yep, same as always, no
reception.‘  Adem,  Jean,  and  Carl  began  to  laugh  softly,  but  Wil  just  frowned  and  looked
disappointedly at his phone, shaking it from time to time.
Jean sighed, ‗Jesus Christ.‘
Finally, Carl began to s ing in a loud masculine voice, ‗ Let‘s go, the boat, the boat!  –
The angels are calling! Let‘s get in the boat!‘ Suddenly, at least a dozen male voices joined in
the  chorus,  deep  and  rhythmic  with  a  strong  rumbling  bass  sound,  in  the  s ame  hypnotic
angelic language. Their voices dragged the song in new directions, darkness and dan ger, and
courage and strength. ‗Oh yes, we are  in the right place, at the right time, this time.‘ Carl sai d,
as he began to take quicker strides towards the sand where the boat was now waiting,  with a
tall figure in a dark blue silk robe and a gold crown encrusted with emeralds and rubies.  
As they ca me closer to  the boat,  they saw the  man  was  taller than any of the three
boys; he looked six feet six inches at least, long dark hair tied back in a tail, large dark eyes
filled with a warm kindness and a deep wisdom, tanned skin, and a thin muscular physi que.
The first word to spring to Adem‘s mind was Angel.
Adem realised in amazement that this was one of the rulers he had seen in visions of
this  world, both  in  his dream and before  meeting  the  goblin and Shadow Rider. It was the
first real evidence that t hese  visions and dreams  were somehow connected  with this world
that was now seemingly as real as sitting down for a meal with family or friends.
He gazed in wonder at the figure as they moved closer, while a strange sensation took
over him, as if the very  earth and skies were bleeding a kind of raw energy that was fed into
his soul, but at the same time he felt a ghastly presence overlapping that Power, a dark energy
that  he  was  certain  was related to the evil presence of  those Ghosts of  Bright. It  was  the
Power of the Shadow, the force of the Dark One.
Chapter
3
The Immortals
Carl was  first to approach the tall  man  in  the boat while Adem, Jean, and Wil stood   a few
paces back on the sand. ‗Welcome, Sons of Odin, Daughter of Thor,‘  the man said in a voice
that  was deep and powerful  like the  male singing  voices .  ‗You  have come at the Hour of
Arrival,  in accordance with  the Great Prophecy.  The Prophecies of  your Arrival  have been
past  down  amongst  the  Immortal  Kings  and  Queens  since  the  Age  of  Immortals.  T he
Prophecy  was  first spoken to Rodin Cloudwalker, the first  Immortal King , by Odin, Lord of
Lightning.
‗Odin was the first of the male Great Angels to be created by the Lord God.  Teron,
the  male  half of the Lord‘s Power  was  forged and passed down  into Od in at the  Dawn of
Ages. Odin used the Power to assist the Lord in the creation of all the male Great Angels, and
Odin‘s Power flows through them. That Power is teron.‖
Carl asked, ‗So Odin and Thor and the gods of mythology are real? I was taught by
my father that there is only the One God. ‘
The immortal man s miled broadly as he explained, ‗They are the Great Angels, as I
explained.   They  were  made  by  the  Lord  your  God.  Your  God   exists  also  in  our  world,
Kismeria, as do the Great Angels, who were once a part of your world, Earth.
‗In our world, Kismeria, the Nordics were the first of the immortals, and all immortal
races stem from this root. They are the most wise and powerful of our race. I understand that
my  appearance  may  seem  somewhat  strange  to  you,  my  pointed  ears  and  large  eyes,  my
height,  and  my  clothing  may  also  seem  unusual.‘  When  he  mentioned  clothing,  his  eyes
scanned  the  clothing  of  Adem  and  his  friends  as  if  he  thought  they  were  quite  strange  in
appearance. ‗My  name  is Orion Demonslayer. I am  King of the  Torvellen. We are  usually
light brown - skinned with dark hair and eyes, and we are all very tall. We mostly live in stone
kingdoms like the Nordics though some of our race live in the Great Forests like our cousins
the Dremelden, who are also kn own as the Wood Kin.
‗Y ou will be  meeting  all of  us  in  time.  The  immortals  have prayed  to the  Lord  for
your arrival since the First Age, for the Prophecies say that you will break us, but that you
will also save  us. It  is  your  fate  to  face  the  Dark One  in  the Battle  of Hordroth‘Kilainen.
However, the Prophecies say  that  the Great  Battle  is still a  long  way off. Over a  thousand
years in fact. So the next  thousand years shall be known as the Age of Chaos.
‗We know it has something to do with the taint you have brought with you, you three
Sons of Odin.  This  taint  will  infect  teron  corrupting  the Power with  the  Dark One‘s taint.
This will in turn corrupt the minds and souls of all male wielders, both mortal and immortal. I
sense the taint on teron now,  like a slick of leprous black oil floating on the pure seas.‘
‗What is the source of this evil taint we have brought with us?‘  Adem knew the ghosts
of  Bright  had been  tainted  with  an evil  force.  He  had known that since  that  night.  He  had
always felt and believed  that some part of that taint had been embedded in his flesh and bones
as it seeped into his soul during the haunting.
‗You were marked with the taint in your  world at the age of seventeen,‘ Orion said in
his deep  tones. ‗ You three Sons of Odin were visited by five spirits, ghosts is what you call
them in your world. We most often use terms like phantom, wraith, or spectre. These ghosts
of Earth were corrupted by the Power of the Dark One, and they passed that taint on to you
during that haunting.
‗To be h aunted is not so uncommon in our world, though, in Kismeria, the Dark One
has no power over the spirits who walk in the Middle Realm. The High Realm and the Low
Realm are connected between Kismeria and Earth, though the Middle Realm is separate.
‗The Great Angels left your world over two thousand years ago. You three Brothers
are connected to Odin by God,  who saved you from those ghosts. The Lord passed down to
you the Power of the Great Angel Odin . Therefore, the taint shall flow from Odin into  teron
and  infect us all.
‗We will  not  harm  you  for this. We  will  in  fact be  your protectors.  The  immortals
have prepared for this day since the First Age. As  for  the Prophecies ;   I only hope the s aving
comes after the breaking.‘
‗I summoned the Power of Jesus  that  night  we  were  haunted,‘ Carl said  almost  in
protest. ‗ I did not summon Odin. It is the Power of Christ that flows thr ough our veins, the
Son of God.‘
‗Yes, the Prophecies speak of this man also,‘ Orion replied. ‗He  is believed to be the
one who allowed the  Dark One to create the taint on purgatory in your world. It was at the
time of his death, the Crucifixion, over two tho usand years ago in your world.‘
Adem considered these things as he listened to Orion continue, ‗ You must understand
that time moves much  faster here in Kismeria compared to your world.  It is my understanding
that if you are here in Kismeria for a month or a year, then you return to Earth, only a  short
time  will have passed in your home world.
‗So  if  you  stayed  here  in Kismeria  for  five  years, then returned  to  Earth,  you still
might find your family and friends have only just begun to search for you. Does this put your
minds at ease about your loved ones?‘
‗Do  you  know  how  to  send  us  back?‘  Carl  asked.  ‗I  have  no  powers  other  than  a
mortal m an‘s flesh and my faith. I cannot oppose your Dark One. He would crush us.
‗I am  sorry, but we cannot save you.‘
Orion looked at their faces with his probing stare and seemed to be weighing each of
their souls before he said, ‗You are the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. You are the
Chosen  of  the  Great  Prophecy  known  as  the  Karaedhal  Cycle.  You  are  the  Blue  Water
Dragon, the Red Fire Lion, the Black Shadow Wolf, and the White Snow Fox.‘
‗Which one of us is the Dragon?‘ Wil asked, puffing out his chest.
‗That shall be revealed by your actions,‘  Orion said. ‗I can tell you that the Daughter
of Thor is the White Fox. The Dragon is Prophesised to be the strongest of the  Sons, though
your Powers are connected and all three of  you  must be there to  face the  Dark One  in  the
Great Battle.‘
‗You say the Great Battle is at least a thousand years away,‘ Adem said. ‗We will not
survive beyond eighty to a hundred years, and we will  be very weak and feeble by then. We
are  mortal.‘  Orion rubbed  his chin, and  his dark  eyes rolled around  to each of  the ir  faces
again before he said, ‗ That part has always been understood. There will be a Second Arrival.
You will return to Earth in good time and you may spend five to ten years there getting back
to your old lives, though y ou will never be the same.
‗Y our ability to wield shall return when you return to Kismeria. You shall also have
greater protection from evil spirits that visit you in dreams or visions ,  or in the flesh, when
you return to Earth.‘
‗You shall return to a very different world to this one. The taint on  teron  will  have
turned thousands of male  wielders  mad or evil, perhaps tens of thousands. Perhaps I will be
one of them.‘
‗I need a cigarette,‘  Wil said as he took out his pack and lit up. Orion looked slightly
startled when Wil produced his lighter and flame sprouted to light the cigarette. Orion shook
his  head  and said, ‗Smoking,  yes, even some of the  immortals are susceptible to  its allure.
Though we have learnt that too much of it can even destroy the innards  of an immortal and
bring about death over time.‘  Wil began to cough and bent down to extinguish the cigarette
properly; putting  it back in the packet. Adem wished he had his nicotine tablets.
And my medication.
‗I  have  to  get  home  today,‘  he  said  urgent ly.  ‗ I  have  a  mental  illness,  and  I  take
medicine to control  its effects. If I  stay here, I will  lose  my  mind.‘  Jean took  his  hand and
looked into his eyes with sympathy.
‗Yes, the Sickness, it flows in  all three of the Sons of Odin,‘  Orion said. ‗In time  you
will begin to fall into madness and possibly become evil. This could be a part of the Prophecy
that  you shall break  us. For the  short  term, we  have Healers who are equipped at   keeping
your condition stable.‘
‗I usually take my   healing at about four o‘c lock,‘  Adem said. Orion smiled broadly as
he said, ‗C limb aboard, and we shall travel to the keep on the island. My people are waiting
for  you , and from there, we shall travel to the heart of the Free Lands. ‘
Carl was first to climb into the large glowing  golden craft that sat half in the water,
half on the white sandy shore. There were no oars or paddles, but once they were all aboard
and  seated comfortably,  the boat slid  back  into  the  water;  made  a turn and began to  float
towards the island.
The music a nd angelic voices continued, the male and female voices harmonizing and
combating, hope and courage, pain and bliss, sun and moon, thunder and lightning, wind and
rain, fire and ice, and the Shadow and the Light.
When they were halfway across the water, Adem turned to see two  more  immortals
standing in the back of the boat. Both were as tall as Orion with sun- darkened skin, long dark
hair,  and  large  dark  eyes.  One  had  dark  blue  eyes,  though  the  pupils  were  so  large;  they
appeared black at  first  glance.  They  wore cloaks dark as shadows with  large  hoods  falling
around their shoulders, woollen coats of olive- green and brown camouflage that hung below
the waist  under thick brown  leather belts.  Their belt buckle sigils were of  a  sinuous Blue
Dragon. They wore leather trousers of the same camouflage colours with lace up knee - high
leather boots.
‗Do not be alarmed,‘ Orion said. ‗ They are my bodyguards, my Guardians. Talegon
and Kelflax are  their  names.  Talegon  is the one with the dark blue eyes.  Their cloaks  are
en chanted and can turn the same colours as their immediate environment to hide them from
the eyes of demons. They are visible now because they have allowed themselves to be seen
by choice. The magic connects with the mind of the wearer, so the y may control when they
wish to hide.
‗The cloaks are best suited  for  night or shade when they ret urn to  the dark shadow
colours.‘  Adem turned to look over his shoulder at Talegon and Kelflax again and the golden
hilts of their long swords rising above their waist belts  and balanced by a quiver on the other
hip.  Long bows that  looked to be  made of  marble  on either side of  the  handle  grips  –  one
white- veined blue and the other black- veined red  –  stuck up above their right shoulders now
that they were visible,  with leather  straps across their chests for the bow cases.
Orion continued to face the island as he spoke though his voice was  loud and deep as
he explained, ‗Lukrorian Bows. They are wood encased  at the grip  in a layer of stone similar
to the marble of your world. T he stone is flexible when crafted into an enchanted bow. They
are used by male wielders to unleash arrows of Fire by harnessing the Power of  teron.
‗Terael can be used by fema le wielders to the same effect.‘
‗How  many  .  .  .  Lukroria n  Bows  do  you  have  in  Kismeria?‘  Adem  asked.  Orion
began to laugh, a deep throaty c huckle of mirth as he replied, ‗ We have many, Son of Odin.
Why do you ask?‘
Adem sat in deep thought  for a time before he replied, ‗I‘m trying to get an idea of
what kind of army we have on our  side. What kind of weapons we have to face the goblins
and Sh adow Men and the Shadow Riders.‘
‗You  have seen all of these things?‘  Orion asked with a slight turn of his head. ‗You
have been here before?‘
‗We had dreams and visions,‘ Adem explained. ‗Only I  think I did enter Kismeria for
a short time in one of the visions. That is where I saw the goblin and the Shadow Rider. That
night in my home when I turned out the light, I saw the Shadow Man.
‗He said  he  had come  for  me  to take  me to the Dark One. I called on the Power of
Christ, and the Shadow Man vanished in a blast of light and shadows.  But before that there
were many more of them that appeared, though they were defeated. Who are these Shadow
Men? The evil force I felt from  the first one  was  many  time s stronger than the taint we felt
from the ghosts of our world.‘
‗I will tell you more of the Shadow Riders and the Shadow Men when we arrive at the
Nordic Kingdom. It is unwise to even speak of such beings with so few warriors to protect us
from  the  poten tial  threat  that  they  may  appear  out  of  the  shado ws  and  ambush  us  at  any
moment,‘ Orion sounded concerned.
Moments later, the boat lurched on to the white sandy shore of the island with thick
bright green grassland flowing up the rising hillside to the fe et of the dark grey stone tower.
The singing continued as more immortals, both male and female, began to march down to the
shore. Some carried flutes,  harps or drums that they played while the others sang in their deep
rich chants. ‗ My people are weaving an enchantment on the air to ward against e vil following
us to this place,‘ Orion explained.
They climbed out of the boat after King Orion stepped on to the shore. Adem made
sure he helped Jean out of the boat before the tall handsome Talegon and Kelflax c ould offer
her any assistance. ‗Meet my wife, Queen Elmira Goldenbraid,‘ Orion said proudly, as a very
beautiful fair- skinned woman approached,  with large clear blue eyes and shining golden hair,
tied in a long thick braid that fell halfway down her tall s lender figure. The braid was pulled
down over her shoulder and nestled between her generous bosom as she reached out to Jean
with jewelled fingers of rubies, diamonds, and emeralds on golden bands.
A  gold  necklace with  snowflake- style patterns sparkled  with  more  gems,  above  her
dress  of  pale  blue  silk;  low  cut  around  the  cleavage  exposing  a  generous  portion  of  her
bosom.  She  wore  a  snow  white- hooded  cloak  of  silk;   silver  and  gold  scrollwork  worked
around the edges.
‗Welcome, Daughter of Thor,‘ Elmira said  in clear crisp harmonious tones. ‗Welcome
also, Sons of Odin.‘  Elmira  said that last with a touch   of animosity in her tone. Her  big  eyes
seemed to stab holes in Adem‘s heart. Adem understood immediately that it must have been
the taint  he and  his Brothers  had brought  to Kismeria  that  had the Queen of  the  Torvellen
looking at him as if he were a cursed rat.  A rat  that had sunk its teeth into her freshly baked
apple tarts.
He bowed  very  low  to  her as  he said, ‗ My  humblest apologies, Queen  Elmira. We
knew not  what we would bring to your world. If I had known, I would have done everything
in my power avoid entering this world.‘
Elmira smiled, almost warmly  though the smile did  not  touch  her eyes  that seemed
sympathetic and at the same time filled with loathing   as she said, ‗It is all a part of the Great
Prophecy. We are all chained and  shackled  to the  Hero Chains of  the Great Cycle and the
Shield of Fire. There are none who can escape its grasp and its driving force.‘
Adem  knew  nothing  of  this  Hero  Chain  or  the  Great  Cycle  or  the  Shield  of  Fire,
though, it a ll sounded very important. He did not want to appear ignorant of their world, so he
simply bowed deeply again and hoped his friends did the same. He took a quick peek over his
shoulder to see them both rising from bowing deeply. He hoped Orion would explain these
Chain and Cycle and Shield concepts to him at a later date also. It sounded very important.
The music continued as they made their way up the hillside and entered the doorway
to  the  stone  tower.  Wit hin  the  first  room,  the  cool  shade  washed  over  Adem‘s  skin  and
brought a tingling sensation after the warm sunlight had baked his skin. He had taken his cap
off to bow to Queen Elmira and he held it swinging off his right index finger and thumb as
they made their way up one of the stone staircases; climbing  to higher levels with Orion and
Elmira leading the way.
A dozen or more male and female immortals follo wed behind Adem and his friends.
The remaining two dozen stood outside to finish the chant that was  fading as they made their
way up the staircase with a waist- high stone railing. Tapestries of warriors doing battle with
strange- looking  monsters  and  demons  decorated  some  of  the  walls  on  levels  where  the
staircase levelled out briefly before they continued to climb.
Finally, they arrived at a large level with a floor that must have stretched from wall to
wall with another staircase  leading to  higher  levels. On  this  floor stood a rectangular  grey
stone slab divided down the centre into two doors of stone.  Carvings of angels flying through
clouds covered the top half of the stone doors and demons writhed in pits of fire at the base.
The carvings rose out of the stone and  were  the  work of a  master  sculptor,  though Adem
suspected the doors had been crafted us ing the Power.
‗That is the portal,‘  Orion explained when he noticed Adem and his friends staring at
the strange doors that stood against the centre of   one of the walls. ‗When it opens, it looks
something like a mirror. It is called a Travelling Gate or t he Portal Gates.
‗Now, it is time for your gifts.‘  Immortal men and women then began opening many
of the large brass bound dark wooden chests that were spread around the large room, some
using golden keys to unlock the chests.
The room was lit by rectangular lanterns attached to the stone walls ; light appearing to
be a ball of fire within the glass  without  candle or wick. Next the immortals began dragging
out  cloaks,  clothing,  armour,  and  weapons.  ‗ Guardian  cloaks  and  toramor  armour  for  the
Sons of Odin,‘   Orion  said.  ‗Toramor  cuirass and breastplates are  enchanted  with Fire and
Earth , and can withstand strikes from regular steel blades, including large demon weapons. It
will never weaken, but some enchanted weapons will be able to penetrate the armour.‘  
The  immortals  t hen  handed  Adem  and  his  friends  each  a  large  hooded  cloak  that
seemed to be made of shadows, while others held gleaming  cuirass and breastplates of bright
colours.
‗I‘ll take the crimson armour,‘  Adem said.  All three sets of breastplate armour  had
serpentine dragons scrawled across both sides of the chest. The armour had backplates also,
and before they tried it on, other immortals provided them with clothing, long woollen coats,
dark leather trousers, and knee- high brown leather boots. Adem was handed a red coat with
gold and silver dragons wound about the sleeves.
The  yellow  and  blue  coats  his  friends  were  given  also  had  dragons  of  the  same
coloured stitching. Carl took the blue coat and dark blue shining armour with black dragons
across the chest. Wil took the yellow coat and golden armour with white dragons.
When they were dressed with thick brown  leather belts and sword belts over their
buttoned- up coats that  hung beneath their armour,  they were  provided  weapons. A  golden
glowing axe with   a double half - moon blade was gifted to Wil. A pure gold spear that glowed
incandescent red—and was light as a wooden staff and well balanced—was gifted to Carl and
a  long  sword  with  a  golden  hilt  was  gifted  to  Adem  in  a  black  polished  scabbard.  A
serpentine dragon was scrawled in silver and gold upon both the scabbard and the blade itself,
which  was  a  double- edged  straight  sword.  He  was  also  gifted  a  buckler  that  looked  steel
plated in rings of red and blue, though was lighter than leather and wood and als o said to be
forged of toramor.
‗These three weapons  have been chosen  for  the three Sons of Odin by  three of  the
four Immortal Kings.  They are enchanted  not only with a  mixture of  teron  and  terael, but
they are also the Resting Points for three Great Ange ls.
‗These  Great  Angels  reside  in  your  weapons  as  we  speak.  There  they  wait  and
recharge their spirits, drawing from a combination of three sources. The first is the combined
energies of  teron  and  terael  that enchant the weapons. The second is the energie s that flow
through each of you. Your life forces feed the ir Power. The third source of their Power is fed
through the energy source known as  ki’mera.
‗Ki’mera  is  the life force of all demons within Kismeria. When a demon is defeated
using the Power or  t hese weapons, the defeated demon spirit will rise as a  floating   energy
source that will be drawn to, and consumed by,  your enchanted weapons.
‗That energy source  will feed and enhance the Power of those Angels who reside in
your  Resting  Points.  The  more  k i’mera   you  obtain,  the  stronger  your  Great  Angels  will
become and the stronger their attacks shall be, providing you with even more ki’mera.
‗Be warned that  you should only summon  these  Angels  in time of  great need. They
will consume  ki’mera  quickly, and  they will require rest ev en after obtaining fresh stores  of
ki’mera.
‗In time your  ki’mera  levels stored will also increase your own strengths in wielding
teron.  This will also allow  you to enhance the power of your weapons with assistance from
your Battle Angels.‘
Three  more  male  immortals—in  darkly  coloured  silk  robes  with  the  dark  hair  and
dark  eyes  of  the  Torvellen—brought  forward  three  of  the  wooden  bows  with  a  marble
looking panel on either side of the  handle - grips.  Adem was  gifted  a  blue bow  with black
veins.  The bows  came  with  large  leather cases that could be slung over their backs,  under
their cloaks, with leather straps across their chests.
Adem and his friends were equipped with the bows after they put on their Guardian
cloaks that Adem  noticed  blending with the grey stone walls. Carl was gifted a red bow with
black veins, and Wil‘s was golden- yellow with white. In the centre of the strings  was a small
gem - stone encased within a  golden band.
Adem‘s  gem - stone  was  blue,  and  when  he  tested  the  bo w  by  drawing  back  the
string —as suddenly again the pure magnificence of the Power burned within his soul, along
with the foulness of corruption corroding his bones—he saw that an arrow of blinding blue
light appeared in the darkness of the room.  He gasped  in elation and disgust conflicting his
senses and emotions from the raw energies of darkness and light pulsing through his being.
Carl‘s produced a shaft of red flame and Wil‘s was a golden arrow. They allowed the strings
to retract  slowly  to avoid  letting   the arrows  loose  in the  room ,  though they  had aimed  the
bows pointed to the floor. Adem turned to see Jean was being gifted a jade - green bow with
blue veins that she used to wield an emerald arrow.  He could see the state of ecstasy felt by
Jean  when she touched  terael,  it was clearly pure and nothing  like the taint now  felt by all
male wielders.
Female immortals helped her dress, and she wore a dark green silk skirt with lace up
knee- high emerald boots, dark blue leather trousers beneath the skirt, and an  emerald- green
woollen coat with white foxes on the sleeves,  embroidered with silver and gold edging along
the cuffs and hem of her skirt.
They had tied her hair in a long golden braid with an emerald hair tie, and she wore a
gold- hilted long sword in an e merald scabbard.  The blade was very thin and apparently quite
light due to enchantment, despite  it being  very  long, almost touching the  ground  when she
walked.
Adem overheard Elmira explaining to Jean that her bow was a Res ting Point for the
Battle Angel,  Tanriel;  a powerful female Great Angel. Carl‘s spear was the Resting Point for
Math Mathonwy. Wil‘s golden axe was a Resting Point for Eledisre n, a powerful male Battle
Angel.  Adem was told that  he  carried the spirit of Arawn in his sword, a Battle Angel o f the
Underworld. Carl‘s  Battle Angel was also  from the  Underworld and was said  to  wield  the
Hellfire Spear  that he used to unleash the Hounds of Hell.  The y were warned not to summon
the Angels  as it may deplete their stored  ki’mera  levels that had been built up by immortals
wielding the weapons  for many years.
Orion explained that Battle Angels of the Underworld  were no  more harmful than if
they were assigned male Angels of the High Realm as, ‗Once the Power has been tainted, it
shall flow through all male  men and spirits.‘
Orion explained that Underworld Angels have never been tainted with the Power of
the Dark One, only connected to it like a bridge connects two separate pieces of land across
air or water, though  the two pieces of  land remain   separate.  ‗O nly  now that  the three Sons
have arrived does the taint truly flow through Arawn, Eledisren, and Math Mathonwy.‘
They were all also dressed in a mail coif of silver rings forged or toramor, light as a
feather,  to protect their  heads and shoulders, and each  wore a  toramor  hauberk under their
body armour that was also weightless.  Each were also gifted a helmet of  toramor  to match
their body armour; dragon wings rising at the temples. 
Chapter
4
The Travelling Gates
When they were suited up and  equipped, Orion said to Adem, ‗Now you are ready for  your
Healing, Adem Highlander.‘  A slender immortal woman with long silken dark hair falling to
her waist in a crimson silk gown and red cloak, made her way to stand in front of Adem to
lay her hands on either side  of his head around the temples with her fingers almost touching
over his skull.
‗Hold  still,  Adem  Highlander,‘  the  woman  said  in  musical  tones.  Her  large  dark
Torvellen eyes seeming  to drink  in a part of  his  soul during  the time she described as  the
Seeking, where she searched for his illnesses and how best to Heal him. She made note of his
groin injury.
The immortal woman, Lira Tolnock was her name, said she could do a little to ease
the pain of that injury though it was too old for her to Heal completel y. His mental illness;
that she described as the  Darkness, or  the Sickness, she explained  was also something she
could do little about in terms of repair or cure. She explained that she could relieve some of
his symptoms,  though  this was something that  would  need  to be done daily  to ensure  the
Sickness did not spread through his mind too quickly.
Lira finally began the Healing – a bolt of lightning cold as ice surged through his flesh
and bones, filling his soul, drenching his mind; he shivered, then tremb led, then convulsed,
and  had  to  fight  to  resist  flailing  his  arms  that  shook  silently  at  his  sides  with  his  fists
clenched. His eyes were fluttering and rolling up into his skull before she released him, and
the Power ceased to flow through his veins.
The  feeling was similar to when he had drawn the arrow of flame, rivers of lava and
avalanches of  ice  flowing  through  his  veins; only  the  healing was just  ice without the  fire.
The sense of  teron  flowing through him had heightened his senses for those brief m oments,
the shaft of flame glowing as if it contained the power of the sun, though when he released
the Power, he felt both relief at being spared another moment with the taint flowing through
him and despair at being severed from the sweet bliss of feelin g the Light  in his soul.
Teron  was like the sensation of praying  or meditating  and being close to the  Creator
in  those  prayers  and  feeling  a  warm  glow  enter  your  heart  and  fill  you  with  peace,
contentment, and bliss, only the Power  flowing  through  you was   a  hundred  times stronger,
even wielding such a small amount.
When he reached for the bow, Orion began to explain, ‗You must not draw too much
of the Power.  There  is a danger  you  will burn out  your ability  to  wield and  you shall be
severed from teron.
‗This would greatly alter the Great Cycle and the fate of Kismeria. Our Alit‘aren and
Ael  Tarael shall teach you  to draw  from  the Power without burning out  your ability.  Your
Battle Angels also increase the amount you can draw from teron.
‗So long as you car ry your Resting Point weapons, your ability to wield will increase
the  more  you obtain  ki’mera  from defeated demons. When you acquire  new  Battle Angels,
you may create new Resting Points.  Your Lukrorian Bows are potential Resting Points.
‗We must use the Travelling Gate to journey to Nordhel.‘ Orion then made his way to
the sto ne doors of the Travelling Gate, wielding a ball of blue fire that glowed above his open
hand. The light reflected off the stone carvings until the light began to glow within the sto ne
as if the Power flowed through it. With a loud crackling groan, the doors swung outwards to
reveal a blue- white glow within.
When  the  doors  were  half  open,  Adem  could  see  his  reflection  in  the  mirror- like
surface that glowed within, though he could see   no other reflection, not even the reflection of
the stone room  and chests. He stood some distance  from the doors and the  mirror of  light ,
though he could see his entire reflection despite Orion and Elmira standing in front of him ,
and they  s hould have blocked the path of his image to the mirror surface.
A dozen of the Guardian Immortals leapt through the thick glistening gel that formed
the surface of the Gate. As they passed through the  thick membrane, their images faded into
the  bright  light  that  glowed  within.  Next  many  female  immortals,  some  of  who  Adem
guessed were Ael Tarael, walked into the gel ,  with over a dozen black- coated male immortals
who Orion explained were Alit‘aren, men who could wield.
Orion  and  Elmira  followed  next  after  the  two  dozen  or  more  male  and  female
immortals; those that ascended to   their level after finishing their chanting wards. Finally, all
that remained in the room were Adem, Carl, Wil, and Jean with Talegon and Kelflax waiting
to enter last.
‗Do not fear the Portal,‘ Tale gon said in  deep courageous tone s. ‗ The taint is newly
made and will  not bring  harm  to those that pass  through.‘  Adem  stepped  through  first, the
gel - like  liquid  cold  against  his  skin,  like  sliding  through  thick  water  that  left  no  stain  or
wetness on his cl othing or skin—darkness surrounded him like an ominous cloud, until light
exploded  outwards  all  around  him,  first  as  glowing  filaments  of  energy  moving  out  in  a
cosmic  spray,  then  the  darkness  itself  was  enveloped  in  brightness  as  he  experienced  the
sensat ion of a  great shift, as  if  he were suddenly  moving  very  fast through space  without
taking a single step—and the next moment he was stepping out on to a field of dark cracked
clay with some  lava  forming rivers  through the soil.  He  gazed upon  his surroundings with
some  caution,  for  although  he  did  not  fear  that  these  people  had  betrayed  him,  he
immediately knew the Portal had not taken them to their desired location, suggesting further
destructive forces at work, and the new arrival of the taint on  teron see med the first and most
likely explanation.
What  he  saw  before  him  was  a  barren  wasteland  for  miles  in  every  direction,  of
mostly flatlands of dark cracked soil with rivers of lava flowing and bubbling in small pools
of  orange  magma,  and  the  sky  above  was  a  cataclysm  of  wild  magic  with  dark  crimson
lightning forks falling from the brooding dark clouds that swirled through the heavens as if in
eternal torment from the manipulations of the Dark One. Thunder echoed now and then, as he
looked about hesitantly in   fear of the presence of demons or goblins or other foul creatures
that he already knew inhabited these regions.
The other  immortals, over sixty  men and  women  in  total, were gathered around the
doorway to the Travelling Gate he had exited. When he turned b ack to the glowing surface
that was now mixed with shadows, he saw Jean sliding outwards from the gel surface. Carl
and Wil followed after, exiting together with the two Immortal Guardians following.
Adem looked to the sky to see  the   dark storm clouds  sur ging with sideways blasting
crimson bolts  for  miles  in every direction, as  if the presence of the Sons and Daughter  had
invoked  a  dark  magic  upon  the  earth  and  sky.  Lava  pools  also  sprayed  and  erupted  with
greater  vehemence. Forked  lightning bolts  began to   fall  more  frequently, as   a strong  wind
howled spraying a light rain across his face.
‗Something  is  very wrong,‘  Orion said  in a  loud  voice, as  he  turned to  face Adem.
‗The Travelling Gate   has taken us to the East Lands.  These lands are swarming with enemies.
We tried to pass back  through  the Gate, but  it was  firm  against our  flesh and  no  longer a
yielding gel.
‗We  must  find  wild  altherin   horses  to  take  us  to  Nordhel.  Altherin  are  immortal
horses. They often run wild in these lands to taunt the Rahkwel and  Shadow Riders.  I could
not have foreseen this Adem Highlander . . . forgive my mistake.‘
‗It  is  not  your  fault  but  my  own,‘  Adem  replied  in  attempts  to  be  heard  over  the
roaring wind. ‗What are Rahkwel?‘
‗Goblins,‘  Orion said. ‗You will see for yourself soon enough.  Was  the one you saw
tall or short?‘
‗Short!‘ Adem replied. ‗Like a dwarf?‘
‗That  is  a  Grimwel,‘  Orion  said.  ‗Rakhwel  can  stand  up  to  seven  feet  tall.‘  Adem
resisted  the  urge  to  curse.  Wil  must  have  overheard  because  he  did  not  res ist  the  urge  to
curse,  loudly.  ‗The Ael  Tarael are doing  their best to summon  the  altherin  horses,‘ Orion
said;  pointing   to  strands  of  light  shooting  up  into  the  clouds  from  the  fingertips  of  three
immortal women standing some distance ahead.  
Three huge black stone mountains capped with white peaks stood in the distance, and
large boulders were scattered across the dark land .  The only trees he saw were stunted black
leafless things that looked to be twisted by the Power of the Dark One.
There were occasional tufts of fresh green growth that he assumed was all the  altherin
horses would have to eat in these East Lands. The strands of light were touching a group of
the dark clouds above, turning them to a silvery incandescent glow. ‗ The light  will guide the
altherin  to us.  The Guardians will use the ir horns to signal our position.   The clouds of light
and the horns will also draw any  Rahkwel and other demons nearby.
‗Rest assured we shall protect you, Sons of Odin and Daughter of Thor.‘
Moments later, Talegon and Kelflax raised curved red and gold horns that released a
deep echoing call. Jean stood beside Adem and looked in his eyes with real fear. He tried to
smile as he took her hand and squeezed lightly before letting go.
Jean pulled her Lukrorian Bow from her shoulder  case and pulled back gently on the
string to produce a bright arrow of emerald Fire as she s aid, ‗It will be an honour to fight  at
your side, Adem Highlander.‘
‗The hono ur is all mine, Jean Fairsythe,‘  he said. He then reached over his shoulder to
draw his blue bow, and he eased back the string to draw an arrow of bright blue flames.
Teron  flooded his veins, lightning and snow, lava, and ice, he shivered at the rush of
heat  and  cold  that  flowed  through  him.  The  Power  was  a  well  spring  of  light,  the  taint
bursting  through  that  spring,  like  maggot- infested  shadows.  He  wanted  to  laugh  with  the
glow of the Power.
He wanted to vomit from the corruption of the taint. As he drew the bow string back
further, the arrow of  flame shone  more brightly, and  he  felt  hims elf drawing  more of  the
Power that flowed into the enchanted weapon. He could sense his connection with his Battle
Angel also; the Great Spirit seemed to be dreaming within the Resting Point of the sword that
hung at his hip, like a child in the womb, only the Battle Angel‘s mind was a part of Adem‘s
awareness, now that he held on to the Power.
He  sensed  great  knowledge  and  great  power  in  that  connection,  a  connection  to  a
being similar to the  male ghost of Bright, only infinitely stronger in the Power and   the taint
that radiated from its spirit. He felt that the Battle Angel was giving him greeting with that
connection.
He was certain Jean‘s Battle Angel would be giving her a similar greeting as she held
on to the arrow of flame. The horns sounded again a nd again as the light in the clouds above
grew brighter. Ten  minutes or  more passed, and then another  horn sounded  in the distance,
over the rise to the east.
‗It  is  a  Rahkwel  horn,‘  Orion  spoke  with  grave  concern.  ‗ I  will  tell  you  whe n  to
summon your Batt le Angels.‘
‗How do we summon them?‘ Adem asked.
‗They will  tell you in your mind,‘ Orion shouted.
‗I  know!‘  Jean  cried.  ‗Tanriel  has  told  me;  a   message  from  her  mind  to  mine.  It
requires the Power. You will understand when you hold your enchanted blade, Adem.‘
‗Do not draw it yet.‘ Orion said. ‗Use the Lukro rian Bow for long - range attacks.  Hold
the  fully drawn arrows   longer  for  increased power  in  your  attacks.  Control  the amount of
teron you allow to flow into each  arrow.‘ 
Adem turned to see Carl and Wil  were holding their  enchanted bows;   drawing back
gently on the  strings  to wield arrows of red and  gold  flames.  The  Rahkwel  horns sounded
ag ain, a mile or two to the east. B loodthirsty cries of evil humanoids filled the air as Adem
saw hundreds of the seven - feet - tall goblin creatures topping the rise a half mile off.
The Rahkwel were olive- green - skinned with large oval eyes that glowed like lanterns.
Their ears were pointed like the immortals, and their noses were long and pointed. Most wore
dark  leathers an d brown boots;  grey or black armour of overlapping plates down the chest
and abdomen. Some wore greaves and leather or metal gauntlets of black, brown, or green.
Most had large dark green coats and hoods of wool and many wore conical steel helmets of
black, green, or silver with batwing - metal - ears rising from the sides of the helmets.
They carried  large  wooden bows over  their shoulders of black or brown  in  leather
cases with straps  across their chests;  a sword and quiver balanced at their waist belts. Some
carried  long  swords  of  curved  black  metal,  others  wielded  dark  axes  of  half- moon  blades
balanced by a spike; some carried long black metal spears.
Hundreds poured over the rise and sprinted down towards Adem and the immortals.
Adem  drew  back  the  strings  of  the  bow  till  the  shaft  of  fire  glowed  blinding- blue,  then
released. The arrow rocketed upwards towards the top of the hillside. When it landed in the
thick of the Rahkwel ranks, earth and stone explo ded in a crash - like thunder. O ver a dozen of
the tall - armoured demons were thrown  left  and right, some with arms or  legs  torn off and
bleeding from the stumps.
He saw that clearly even at such a distance while he held on to  teron. Blistering fire
and ice flowed through him, warming his soul and freezing his  flesh and bones, the filth of
the taint flowing on that river of light. Jean released an arrow of emerald fire that  lanced into
the Rahkwel ranks, spraying demons and dirt into the air to similar effect. Carl and Wil stood
flanking  either  side  of  Adem  and  Jean,  and  they  unleashed  their  arrows  to  create  more
explosions amongst the Rahkwel ranks.
A  dozen  or  more  Guardians  joined  the  onslaught  with  their  bows  firing  with  the
lightning speed of  immortal kin, their  movements a blur as  they drew back  the string  and
released.  Waves of  energy bolts  launched  upon  the  goblin ranks  to shatter  flesh and bone,
burning  bodies  to  cinders  and  stripping  flesh  from  skeletons  that  collapsed  into  smoking
husks. The force of their Elemental Attacks was much stronger than the So ns and Daughter
also, each blast smashing an entire line of enemies on impact that sent body parts flying in
spurts of dark blood.
Then  Orion shouted, ‗Alit‘aren!  –  Unleash Fire Serpents!‘  Lightning bolts  thick as
gigantic  blue  pythons  launched  down  from  t he  sky  to  plummet  into  the  front  ranks  of
Rahkwel that were  now only several  hundred  feet away  from  Adem and  his  friends. Adem
looked closely at  the blue  lightning as  it crashed to earth and spread outwards through the
demon ranks like live serpents, and he saw clearly that the bolts of blue fire were indeed the
spirits of giant snakes.
Elmira shouted in her clear high tones, ‗ Ael Tarael !  –  Unleash Fire Leopards!‘  Rings
of  golden - orange  flames exploded  into the  air  surrounding the charging ranks of  Rahkwel.
The  initial  blast  sent  demons  flying  into  the  air  in  torn  and  broken  pieces.  Then  the  fire
became the forms of large golden- orange cats that charged through the Rahkwel ranks setting
demon flesh to flame.  The Leopards pushed Rahkwel to the earth to bite  off skulls and shred
through torsos. Dark blood flowed as limbs were torn free in the jaws of the massive beasts.
They  moved  like  lightning as they ploughed through enemy  ranks  to tear down screaming
victims  in  a  bloodbath  of  anarchy,  roaring  amidst  the  th under  that  boomed  through  the
heavens with a sudden increase in the lightning storm of pythons.
Within seconds, the first three hundred Rahkwel were halted in their tracks and died
in balls of orange and blue fire. No sooner had the first ranks fallen down  and died did more
horns sound, and over a thousand of the goblin creatures appeared in a line over the hilltop.
The  first thousand Rahkwel  charged  forwards  while another three  hundred appeared at  the
top  of  the  rise  with  bows  raised  and  arrows  drawn.  As  t hey  drew  back  tightly  on  their
bowstrings, Orion shouted to Adem and Jean, ‗Summon your  Battle Angels!‘
The  first  waves  of  arrows  were  released  and  flying  towards  Adem  and  his  friends
before he could draw his sword. In his state of panic, he drew the blade   with his right hand
while still holding his bow with his left. Jean‘s Resting Point was the Lukrorian Bow she held
however, and her instincts must have told her instantly how to summon her Battle Angel as
she looked skyward and cried, ‗Tanriel!‘
A wave o f emerald  light  like a  great shield of  fire  exploded outwards  from Jean‘s
form towards the falling arrows. The arrows flashed and flared in golden- green light before
each was vanquished by the shield of flames. Above Jean‘s form a  swirling force of colourful
light  traced  the  form of a  six - feet- tall  woman   that  morphed  into being;  wings of blue  light
fanning from her shoulders.  At that astonishing sight, Adem also sensed a raw emanation of
energy flowing from the female figure, though it was foreign to him, s upposedly because it
was the  female Power,  terael. Yet  he could detect  its presence along with a  great  thrill of
elation that swept over him. It was overwhelming; gifting a sudden spurt of energy and new
found courage.
The  figure  –  Tanriel  –  wore armour  of   crimson plates; glowing  incandescent over a
blue  burning robe that shone like pale silk,  with golden- silver scrollwork upon the hem and
sleeves, red horizontal panels  glowed  across her thighs.  Her gauntlets were crimson gold;   her
skin had the quality of p ure transparent blue- white  light.  Incandescent  golden  hair was tied
back in a braid, and when the Battle Angel turned for a brief moment to look down at Adem,
he saw Tanriel had large blue eyes that shone with an inner light. She was beautiful to o, for a
creature  made  of  fire,  and  from  that  glance  Adem  also  sensed  great  love  from  this
supernatural being, love for  him, but also for Jean, Carl and Wil, a shared emotion that filled
his heart with joy like a wellspring of burning brilliance.
The Battle Angel  ho vered ten  feet above Jean  for that brief  moment; then  launched
over  twenty feet higher into the sky like a rocket, as a   spear of red lightning appeared in her
grasp, though , when she unleashed the spear—that crackled with crimson bolts in her fist—a
dozen of the incandescent shafts fell and struck the earth within the demon ranks.
Fire exploded outwards in sheets –  yellow- orange fire that roared with fury – blasting
Rahkwel  into  dust  and  smoke,  torn  flesh  and  large  spurts  of  dark  blood.  The  Rahkwel
screamed in terror.  The flames were a form of destruction beyond imagining, it seemed that
flesh,  bone  and  armour  were  turned  to  vapour  where  the  fire  was  most  concentrated  and
strongest. Bodies  were blasted,  melted and obliterated  in a  massacre of  incinerating  m ight.
The sound of those flames reminded Adem of a dragon‘s roar. 
As the demons were vanquished, Adem noticed the balls of coloured flames  –  some
small as a fist though others as large as a pumpkin  –  of red, yellow, blue, and green floating
upwards through  the air from the vanquished bodies of the Rahkwel.
The first wave of floating lights had been consumed by the immortals as they were the
ones  to defeat  most of the demons  in the  first attack.  There  had been so  much  fire thrown
around he had not noticed it properly until now. The balls of light flew towards Jean, so fast it
almost blurred  in  his  vision, and  the  light  was consumed by Jean‘s Lukrorian Bow. Adem
realised this must have been the ki’mera energy the defeated demon spirits released.
As a wave of  the  ki’mera  was absorbed by Jean, Adem saw Tanriel throw twenty of
those  crimson  spears.  Unleashing  fire  that  shot  out  twice  the  length  and  ferocity  turning
Rahkwel  flesh to  vapour or blasting bodies  into smoking piles of ash.  This time  it was the
Rahkwel  archers at the top of the rise she   had unleashed her attacks upon, and the enemies
there were destroyed in one swift stroke.
In these brief moments, Adem had also understood how to summon Arawn, his Battle
Angel. Arawn  explained to his mind exactly how the  summoning was performed using  teron
to  release  them  from  their  Resting  Points.  Instinct  told  him  the  rest  as  he  faced   charging
Rahkwel and shouted, ‗Arawn!‘
A  burst  of  red  fire  filled  Adem‘s  vis ion —swirls  of  crimson  energy  that  rose  and
flowed  into being   before  his eyes as they began to  take the shape of  four  legged beasts —
becoming twelve charging Fire Lions! The beasts filled the air with a deafening roar as they
crashed  into the  front  lines of  Rahkwel setting  flesh and armour to  flames.  The  Lions also
chose  their  victims  with  a  bloodthirsty  vengeance.  Pushing  bodies  to  the  ground  to  shred
through flesh and bone with burning teeth and claws. When those teeth or claws tore through
flesh and bone, they  left a wave of burning red that  melted  flesh  from  thei r dying enemies
that screamed in terrified anguish.
Then out of the spreading yellow- orange flames a flowing, floating unnatural source
of darkness took shape,  to  morph  into a  spectre of shadows  standing  ten - feet- tall ,  the  male
figure‘s dark cloak seemed to drink in the light with hungry fervour—as Adem sensed great
woe and disharmony from this spirit. Carnage and vehemence, and perhaps also a part of that
horrid corruption  upon the Power,  yet  again  he sensed deep emotion transferred  from this
Battle  Angel  to  Adem‘s  soul.  A  feeling  of  Brotherhood,  from  a  mighty  companion  who
would serve willingly as his protector—a silver sword hilt of two feet of s teel rising from its
shoulders as the shadow  form stood  like a small tower of dominance.  Ready to  inflict  the
f orce of his will over the threat that lay before them, radiating a force similar to the Shadow
Men. It seemed this force was less intimidating to Adem and his friends—although felt—as if
that force was being aimed at the Rahkwel hordes, evil to frighten ev il.
The Battle Angel, Arawn, drew the seven- foot - long steel broadsword from its ebony
scabbard in a flare of brilliance; t he blade  burning  blood red  like the Fires of the Dark One‘s
Soul! Arawn‘s sword swung wildly;  severing Rahk wel skulls from their shoul ders, tearing off
arms and  legs,  cutting  whole demons  in two. As  the blade tore through demon  flesh,  more
Fire Lions launched outwa rds from the fire of the blade, biting off skulls in dark sprays; their
roars filled the air amidst a stronger rumble of thunder in the skies.
As  the  Lions  crashed  through  enemy  lines,  the  flames  from  their  bodies  exploded
outwards in circular sheets to blast demon bodies into charred chunks and piles. A rupture of
energy to tear through flesh and bone that took down dozens of  goblins with every pounce,
their paws pounding against the earth leaving prints of burning light.
Ki’mera  orbs began flying towards Adem also to be absorbed by his sword. As they
were absorbed, he felt them recharge Arawn‘s attacks. He also felt the taint of evil from those
demon souls. He wondered how this had never infected their Great Angels with the taint in
all their tens of thousands of years of history, or however long they had existed.
He also felt something wonderful happen then; Arawn and Tanriel  became linked in
their attacks. When this happened, Adem could sense Jean; he could sense her mind, her fear,
and  her excitement.  Being joined to her  in that  way was beyond  his  imaginings, though  he
knew part of  her  fear was that she could sense the taint  on the  male  half of  the Power that
flowed through his veins.
Adem saw that Arawn wore a silver human skull mask worked with black runes;  his
eyes  were  large  caverns  of  endless  yellow- orange  flames.  The  Battle  Angel‘s  hair  was
shadows  tied back  with a silver  ring  worked  with black runes,  gauntlets  of  black  runes on
steel. His armour was black overlapping plates down the chest and abdo men, like the scales
of a snake; a large silver human skull embossed upon the chest.
Adem thought he was terrifying and  magnificent!
The  Link  between  the  two  Battle  Angels  increased  the  strength  of  their  attacks.
Lightning bolts thick as pythons blasted out sideways in all directions from the spears to mix
with the  fire;  lightning also exploded  f rom  the  forms of the Fire  Lions.  The scale of their
massacre was suddenly increased tenfold; energies unleashed by the Battle Angels built to a
crescendo, Elemental Magic exploding with extreme force as demons screamed in terror.
Ki’mera  orbs flowed like a river of light through the air  from the dark sea of bodies
that were piled high as hundreds more Rahkwel continued to charge down the hillside. The
immortals appeared to be resting at this point, and they also appeared to be watching in awe
of the display.
Finally,  Adem  heard  the  call  of  dozens  of  horses,  followed  by  the  cheers  of  the
immortals,  as  white,  black,  and  dark  brown  horses  charged  towards  them  from  the  west,
moving  with  such  speed  they  appeared  blurred  like  phantoms.  Some  had  the  look  of
Mustangs; others were built like Clydesdales and some even looked similar to a Caspian or
even  Mongolian  horse,  though  most  had  the  sleek  muscular  builds  more  attributed  to
Thoroughbreds, large eyes filled with kindness. No matter how they looked, all moved with a
speed  that  was  supernatural,  charging  across  the  landscape  in  a  gliding,  flowing  manner.
Adem  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  but  he  was  also  spellbound  by  the  grand  nature  of  these
beings, their rescuers. They were a sign of hope in this desolate place.
The  dozen  or  more  Guardians  were  st ill  picking  off  the  outside  straggler  Rahkwel
with their bows, sending explosive arrows of coloured flames flying into their dark - armoured
packs. Skulls and limbs were blasted through the air as ruined corpses collapsed or were torn
apart in bursts of dark  flowing blood. Carl and Wil still stood to either side of Adem and Jean
using their bows, their attacks growing stronger each time they  released an arrow of flame, an
explosion that took out ten Rahkwel,  then fifteen, and then twenty. T he last two must ha ve
taken out  fifty each bef ore Orion shouted, ‗Carl Wilder! Wil  Martyr!  Summon  your Battle
Angels!‘
Carl and Wil flipped their bows back over their shoulders to slide them into the cases
as if they were born to it. Then Wil drew his golden axe from his belt loop, and Carl lifted his
spear from the sliding harness that held it to the back of his bow case.
Wil  shouted,  ‗Eledisren!‘  A  murder  of  black  crows  swarmed  out  of  the  air  above
Wil‘s  head;  they seemed to be born  from  the air only  inches above  his skull, over  fifty of
them.  The crows appeared to be  made of shadows; red - gold  fire  wreathed the  tips of their
wings and their eyes glowed blood red.
The  birds  flocked  together   as  they  dived  to  the  earth  with  a  shuddering  force  of
impact, to take the form of a ten - feet- tall figure in a long hooded cloak of shadows, long thick
shadow locks of hair falling around a wide muscular face with large dark eyes that looked to
be filled with either sadness or hate. That same force as Arawn‘s emanated from the massive
figure, a purely unnatural sense of foreboding and ill will permeated the very air. Strangely
this again seemed to boost the courage of Adem and his friends.
The same black  scale- like armour covered  his chest with shadow sleeves,  trousers,
and  boots;  a  necklace  of  silver  monkey  skulls  hung  against  his  wide  chest.  He  saw  these
features  in the brief  moment the  huge  figure  turned  to  regard Wil  and  his  friends. W ith a
black gauntleted fist, Eledisren – or Dis Pater – drew a massive double half - moon bladed axe
of go lden light that he used to hack into the front lines of the charging Rahkwel bodies.
Dis  Pater  was  a  wrecking  force  as  he  tore  through  demon  bodies  with  mad
vehemence, blood and bones  flying  in  his  wake as  he roared  like some demigod Viking, a
deep booming war cry that sent shockwaves through the enemy ranks, demons halting with
eyes wide in terror before they were cut into pieces.
Seven - feet - tall  goblins  went  flying  through  the  air  wherever  Dis  Pater‘s  swinging
battleaxe  was seen  glowing  with electric  light.  Limbs and skulls  flying  with sprays of dark
blood—as  the  blade  sliced  through  armoured  bodies  as  if  they  were  made  of  tinfoil  and
butter—with a golden orange flame spreading from every swipe that melted demon bodies;
falling as smoking skeletons.
The  Flame Crows  moved  to the air again to  swoop  upon  the demons with another
earth shuddering force, crushing demon flesh and bones; flames burning bodies to smoking
corpses. The caws of the Crows joined with the roar of Lions. The birds swooped again to
peck  at eyes and  faces  in a  feeding  frenzy,  tearing down  victims, plucking out eyeballs to
devour them in snapping blood filled beaks.
Almost at the same moment that Wil had summoned Eledisren, Carl shouted, ‗Math
Mathonwy!‘  Twelve  Shadow  Hounds,  all  the  size  o f  large  ponies  with  dark  shadow  skin,
charged out of Carl‘s form to race towards the front lines of Rahkwel. The black beasts had
teeth  and claws that  looked  to be  made  from steel and  yellow- orange  flames occasionally
danced  across  their  shadow  flesh.  Hellhounds  gave  ferocious  snarls  and  barks  as  they
ploughed into the Rahkwel forces, biting heads clean off and cutting bodies in half with their
massive  razor- sharp  claws.  Their  savage  war  cry  was  almost  deafening,  the  howls  of
creatures of shadows and death.
From the bodies of the Shadow Hounds rose an eight- feet - tall figure in a blood red
cape of  fire,  the cape appeared  first as  if  some crimson demon wraith  had swept onto  the
field; shadows and light that traced the rest of the Battle Angel‘s form into bein g.  The figure
wielded a massive red spear that was used like a quarterstaff to swing left and right, slicing
through demon flesh, splitting o r decapitating demon skulls;  releasing a brilliant red fire that
spread through the demon ranks.
Adem saw that Math Mathonwy wore glowing golden armour in overlapping plates;
shadows  formed  his trousers, boots, and coat with  gauntlets   of burning  gold.  His  face  was
that of a bearded man with blazing white eyes, his skin made of a blue - white glow. A conical
helmet formed of golden light with eagles‘ wings on both sides; his long  flowing beard was
golden flame, and this third male spirit added his force of dominance to the environment. A
promise  of  deadly  carnage  bleeding  through  space  and  time  that  was  both  unsettling  and
invigorating to behold.
Math Mathonwy soon joined his Brothers on  the battlefield, three enormous  figures
bathing the earth in blood; hacking through flesh and bone with unrelenting skill and speed.
The  sense  of  terror  amongst  their  victims  began  to  build  in  shrieks  and  screams,  bodies
falling like burst sacks of grain, spilling out flows of dark blood with limbs and skulls flying
through the air. The crimson sword, and spear, and axe of gold, began to emanate an ominous
force of energies that sprayed upo n their enemies in shockwaves, blasting through armour to
tear gaping wounds of burning light the size of cannon balls.
Then suddenly, Adem felt the four Battle Angels begin to link together for one final
attack. The  altherin  horses were close now, which Adem guessed was the first reason Orion
had  told Carl and  Wil to  summon their  Battle Angels.  The  second reason  he  guessed  was
what appeared at the  top of  the rise  to the  east.  More  than three thousand Rahkwel began
charging  down  the  hillside  with  other  creatures  that  seemed  to  be  formed  completely  of
shadows. W ith sharp  fang - shaped eyes of red  flames—demons  Adem recognized  from  his
first visions of this world—t he creatures had dark bull‘s or ram‘s horns on black ram skulls,
and their fangs and claws were razor sharp.
There were  hundreds of the  creatures within the ranks;  some wore glowing  crimson
armour and carried dark spears and shields. They were also as tall as the Rahkwel.  There was
that  now  familiar  force of evil  radiating  from  the demons also, though  not as strong as a
single  Shadow  Rider.  Their  bulk  created  an  overwhelming  sense  of  dread  amongst  the
Saviours and  the  immortal kin, as Orion  held  his  glowing amber blade  high  and roared  in
defiance against the Power of the Shadow.
Adem sensed a  link between Orion and  his wife,  Elmira, as  the  immortal king and
queen began to wield a vast source of the Power, detectable only in  teron  for Adem. But he
also  guessed Elmira  was  involved.  A swarm of blazing blue bolts  fell to strike the demon
horde  like desperate  claws of  light. From  these claws spread burning orange Leopards that
gorged on  goblin  flesh and blood as shockwaves of energy blasted the enemy  twelve ranks
deep.
A second swarm of Elemental Magic began to fly from Elmira‘s fingertips, first in the
shape  of pure blue burning spheres; that took the form of winged fairies of light as they took
flight.  The  sprites  moving  with  lightning speed to  hammer  into  the enemy  ranks, blasting
bodies apart in a bloody massacre.
At the same time the earth heaved under the  goblin and demon horde, as great chasms
split under their feet and bodies fell into their gaping depths. Walls of crimson flame sprayed
in  fountains that  raced across the soil  to  vaporize  flesh and bone,  leaving smoking piles of
ash. 
As the  remaining  demo n army approached, the  altherin  horses charged and  flowed
into  their  view  –  over  ninety  horses  in the  herd  –  between Adem and  his  friends and  the
Rahkwel forces. The horses skidded to a halt, their phantom images becoming flesh as they
slowed enough for his eyes to rest upon their forms.  Up close they were unique compared to
any other horse he had ever seen. With a deep cut to their muscles, a pride to their eyes and a
grace of movement that spoke of an enchanted species.
They had no saddles or harness, not hing to grab on to but their manes. Still, a horse
moved to each potential rider and bowed their heads as if  to offer  Adem and his  friends to
climb on to their backs. This all  happened  in the  few seconds while the  four  Battle Angels
began to Link. Adem grasped the mane of a tall muscular black stallion and pulled himself up
on to its back.
Jean  mounted a  white  mare, and Carl and Wil climbed on  to dark brown stallions.
The horses halted for a few brief moments. W hether it was to watch the display by the Battle
Angels or whether they were taunting the Rahkwel as they neighed in proud horse chant as
they rose  up on their  hind  legs, Adem did   not know.  Though  Adem  and  his  friends were
watching the Battle Angels.
Adem felt the fire of the three male Battle Angels  in his mind, three Brothers of the
Underworld combining  their Dark Powers  with the Power of an  Angel of  the High  Realm.
They were four Old Friends, old as the wind and rain, old as Father Time, a hundred thousand
years old – No! A million years! No! A hundred million years! No! They were older than the
Age of the Great Dragons!
Ancient  beings  forged  of  the  Five  Powers  –  Fire,  Water,  Earth,  Air,  and  Spirit!
Ancient beyond imagining! Since the Dawn of Ages, these Great Angels had worked together
to fight th e Demon Armies of the Dark One that had plagued Kismeria.
Visions  flashed through his  mind of these Great Angels  in those ancient day s. They
were ten times as large, and they walked on the clouds, throwing down fire and lightning to
destroy the demons tha t walked the earth. He sensed his friends‘ minds also, their fears, their
anticipation;  he  knew  they  saw  the  same  visions  through  the  Link.  His  mind  fought  the
visions to return to the present.
Clouds  swirled  over  the  demon  army,  dark  grey  clouds  that  beca me  a  whirlpool
vortex strong enough to  lift some of  the demons  high  into the sky as the  vortex became a
tornado. Tanriel hovered at the peak of that storm where blue lightning bolts fell a dozen at a
time.  The  finger of the tornado reached down to the eart h as  massive  wings  formed on the
backs of the three  male Battle Angels. Math Mathonwy‘s  wings  were red  flames, Arawn‘s
were black shadows, and Dis Pater‘s were golden light.
The  three  male  Battle  Angels  were  swept  up  into  the  tornado.  T he  cloud  vortex
gro wing  wider  until  it  hovered  above  the  swarming  demon  army  that  again  must  have
numbered  over three thousand. Lightning fell from the clouds, red lightning, blue lightning,
and  golden, crimson, emerald  lightning;  then  in a  flickering  magnificence—that turned  the
darkness  of  this  land  into  the  light  of  a  bright  sunlit  day—it  seemed  that  perhaps  more
lightning bolts fell than there were demons on the field below as a crack of thunder filled the
heavens that sounded like the roar of Odin‘s Awakening!
In the  nex t  instant,  the  three  male  Battle  Angels swept back down  on to the earth
breaking  off  in  three  directions  through  the  heart  of  the  demon  army  –  the  clouds  of  the
tornado sweeping down with them to spread across the earth in the wake of the Great Angels
–  Math Mathonwy  unleashing a  hundred Shadow  Hounds, D is Pater releasing a  murder of
Crows  that  must  have  numbered  over  three  hundred,  and  Arawn  releasing  over  fifty  Fire
Lions!
Rahkwel  and other demons continued to pour down the hillside, but they seemed to
freeze in terror of this attack when they witnessed its might.  The three male Battle Angels in
the thick of the battle  wielding  their  massive enchanted  weapons  to drive the demons  into
retreat.  Tanriel  threw  down  a  hundred  of  her  red  spears  that  released  blasts  of  fire  and
lighting;  spreading   sideways as long and as deep as the demon army itself.
Flame Crows smashed  into  the earth with a deafening shudder, demolishing demon
bodies in blasts of fire and ashes. They soared high again to crash land against ano ther demon
horde  as their  forms  mixed with  the  magic of charging  Lions and Hounds. The  forms and
light  of  the  three  kinds  of  Spirit  Warden  seeming  to  morph  and  meld  to  create  glowing
monstrosities that turned everything in their path to blood and fire—and  in some cases Adem
saw  these  unified  lines  of  energies  took  a  form  similar  to  sinuous  glowing  dragons  that
devoured their prey  in  ravenous  jaws—armour  melting  to slag as bodies exploded  in their
paths, Crow, Hound and Lion filling the air with cries of blo odthirsty rage.
Ki’mera orbs filled the sky, flying towards Adem, Jean, Carl, and Wil as their  altherin
horses cried out once  more. Standing on their  hind  legs before  they began  to bolt  into  the
distance at such speeds  that the dark  lava cracked  land  moved   towards Adem‘s  vision  in a
blur of burning shadows. The immortals had all found mounts within that time, and they were
all riding alongside Adem and his  friends. They crossed a great distance  from  the Rahkwel
army in a matter of moments before Adem looked  back to see the four Battle Angels flying
towards  the  Sons  of  Odin  and  Daughter  of  Thor,  with  thousands  of  ki’mera  orbs  flowing
behind them.
The  Battle  Angels  and  the  ki’mera  orbs  were  absorbed  by  the  Resting  Points  of
Adem‘s and  his  friends‘ enchanted weapons.  Though  this time  Adem  noticed  the  ki’mera
orbs being absorbed by  his  flesh also, the balls of  light  flying  into  his chest and  filling  his
spirit with a recharge despite the sense of evil that came with the energy force.
The  next  three  days  passed  w ithout  much  rest  and  with  little  sleep.  It  took  over
fourteen hours to reach the edges of the East Lands when Orion and the immortals decided it
was safe to rest the horses and allow Adem and his friends to get some rest. The immortals
had some dried beef  and  flat bread and cheese  in small belt pouches that they shared with
Adem and  his  friends.  There  was  no  game  to  hunt this  far to the east as  the  land  was still
barren and cracked with lava with stunted black trees.
The  next day the  horses  moved at breakneck speeds, Orion explained that  altherin
horses could easily run at three times the speed of mortal horses, and Adem knew a mortal
horse could travel  up to one hundred  miles  in a day with some rest and water  if pushed to
limits that were detrimental to th e animal. These  altherin   breed horses were pushed to their
limits at the speeds they travelled across the East Lands that day, and the next though Orion
assured Adem the horses could recover with a few weeks rest.
They travelled west and north- west on the  third day until the horses slowed at Orion‘s
command as  the white stone  walls of Nordhel  were  gleaming  in  the bright early afternoon
light  on  wide  green  fields  that  stretched  for  miles  in  all  directions  with  enormous  snow -
capped blue stone mountains rising in the distance. The land had shifted and transformed in a
blurring of  the eyes during that three days of riding. Farms, villages,  mountains, and rivers
had taken shape only  to  vanish  moments  after as the  horses  moved swiftly and with  ease
across the ope n plains.
They  had stopped to rest  for  four  hours on  the second  night also, and by this time,
they had crossed the Borderlands that were protected by the Seven Borderland Kingdoms of
the Green Border. Orion had explained that although three of the Borderl and Kingdoms were
Immortal Kingdoms, there  were  no Immortal Kings residing  in any of them and  that  they
were under the supervision of the three immortal sons of the Nordic King, Tobin Fireheart.
They moved into a slow trot to make the remainder of the jour ney to the rising walls
of Nordhel. Deer and stags covered the  lands surrounding  the city  –  sprawling  for over ten
miles  in  a  large  diamond  shape  –  and  rabbits  scurried  through  the  long  flowered  grasses
chased by ferrets and foxes who followed them into their burrows. Tall trees of pine, oak, and
redwood were scattered across the fields, some rising over a hundred feet with thick trunks
and wide leafy foliage.
Birds of  many colours perched  in  the branches and  their song put Adem‘s  mind  at
ease after the ep isode with the Rahkwel and Nymloc  –  they were the dark- skinned demons
with the fang- shaped eyes of flame – where they had also had their first chance to witness the
powers of their Battle Angels.
Talegon and Kelflax sounded their horns as they approached t he raised portcullis of the outer
wall main gate.
An escort of immortal Guardians on horseback rode out of the gateway to flank them
on both sides as  they crossed the  last  mile to the gate.  A tall  fair- skinned  immortal  man  –
with  large  dark  blue  eyes  and  golden  hair  tied  back  in  a  long  tail  –  greeted  them  at  the
entrance to the gate on a tall dark horse. The man‘s name was Captain Nem Odellin; he wore
the  Guardian  cloak  over  a  polished  black  breastplate  with  gold  serpentine  dragons,  dark
leather trousers, and knee- high brown leather boots.
A Lukrorian Bow of green- and- gold hung from his saddle case, and a golden sword
hilt stuck up above his right shoulder. ―Greetings, King Orion, Queen Elmira,‖ Nem said in
deep tones similar to Orion. His blond moustache and pointed goatee was fashioned similarly
to Orion‘s dark  moustache and downward - pointed tuft of  hair  falling  from  his  lower  lip to
below his chin.
Talegon and Kelflax were identical in their dark facial hair also, as were most of the
Guardians he had seen so far. ―Are these the Children of Prophecy?‖ Nem asked with a look
of wonder in his  eyes. ―The three Sons of Odin?—And the Daughter of Thor?‖
―They  are  the  Four  Children  of  Salvation,‖  Orion  said  boldly.  ―They  have  already
proven  their  worth, though they came  to the  foretold place at the  foretold hour of the First
Arrival. The clothing and devices they brought with them were not of this world, could not
have been fabricated, and they all have the ability to wield.
―They are the Blue Water Dragon, the Red Fire Lion, the Black Shadow Wolf, and the
White Snow Fox, of Prophecy and  Legend. This I declare as King of the  Torvellen.‖ Nem
bowed  low to Adem  and his  friends before  he straightened and said to Orion, ―King  Tobin
has been expecting  you  for three days  now.  He became  very concerned  when  you did  not
return  on the first day of the Arrival. My heart is gladdened that you have all  return ed here
safely. What delayed you, may I ask?‖
―The  taint  has  already  infected  the  Travelling  Gates,‖  Orion  explained.  ―We  were
transported to the East Lands where we had to do battle with Rahkwel and Nymloc. It was a
bloodthirsty battle though a good first lesson for our Saviours.‖
―Yes, the taint,‖ Nem agreed. ―Already it seeps through  teron  to flood my flesh and
bones, my v ery spirit recoils at the vileness of it. Though, it is to be endured forever after. I
will waste no more of your time, Your Majesties. King Tobin awaits you.‖ Nem then waved
them towards the tunnel that led to the inner wall.
Orion and  Elmira travelled through  first  with Adem and  his  friends  following after.
Guardians on horseback and on foot moved about the courtyard between the outer wall and
inner wall. The ground was white paved - stone triangular blocks so large Adem did not know
how they would have lifted them without use of the Power. The Guardians seemed to know
who they were seeing  when they set eyes on Adem and  his  friends, and they bowed or  got
down on one knee with fists pressed to hearts.
―Are they bowing to their king and queen?‖ Jean asked Elmira. Elmira smiled warmly
at Jean as she explained, ―We are not their king and queen. They are Nordics. They bow and
salute to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.‖
Chapter
5
The Nordics
The ride  towards  the Palace  was a strange experience.  The c ity  within  the  inner  wall  was
formed of  grey stone pavement  with stone  fountains;  statues of strange  mythical creatures
and  some  that  he  guessed  were  sculptures  of  Great  Angels.  The  shops,  houses,  and  other
surrounding buildings in the wide, paved streets  were mostly three-   or four- storey structures
of dark  grey,  grey,  white, or pale brown stone though some  were red - and- brown brick or
redwood or oak around bluestone covered in white plaster.
The inns were mostly formed of the latter, most large sprawling b uildings with tile or
slate roofs of bright blues, reds, yellows, or greens. Every roof was either slate or tile, some
worked with an assortment of colours. The designs of the buildings were mostly rectangular
with narrow windows suited for forming defences and shooting arrows from.  
The Nordic  Immortals dressed  in  fine silk  robes, dresses and coats,  leather  trousers
and boots on the  men, and  women with short skirts over stockings wore  lace up knee - high
leather boots or brightly coloured slippers.  They were   all tall  like the  Torvellen, their eyes
filled with wisdom.
Thousands of  Guardians  walked the streets  with Lukrorian  Bows across their backs
and  long swords at their  hips,  all wearing the Guardian cloaks that blended with the  grey
stone streets and build ings.
He was learning to pick out those who could wield also – both the male Alit‘aren and
the female Ael Tarael  –  by the way they held themselves, the dangerous glow to their eyes
and the self - assured way they moved. Immortals seemed a proud race in general, though the
look of those he guessed could wield the Power spoke of brimming with confidence.
Some bowed down at their passing  –  both men and women, Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael
–  when they realised it was the Children of Prophecy who rode with King Orion a nd Queen
Elmira.
The Palace of Nordhel rose before them as they climbed the steps and streets that
were built over hillsides  –  a gleaming white system of rectangular slabs layered in a pyramid
fashion with enormous white towers, bridges, and walkways risin g and extended off its sides.
The  windows of the palace  walls  were  mostly  narrow and  fit  for arrow slits though  many
were stained glass within gold casements.
Flags and banners blew atop the towers   in the warm evening breeze;   the blue sky
above  filled  wit h  fluffy  white  clouds.  Eagles,  hawks,  and  falcons  flew  through  the  skies
though they  must  have been  hunting  the  rabbits and smaller prey that  moved  through  the
surrounding fields as Orion explained the city, and Palace was sealed off by invisible wards
that kept all manner of vermin outside the outer walls.
―Rats are  spies of the Dark One, ‖   Orion explained,  ―though they have  to report back
to  the  Shadow  Riders  and  Shadow  Men.  However,  Shadow  Riders  can   teleport  through
shadows to  reach Kerak‘Otozi —amongst other places—to report directly to the Shadow Men
or the Dark One. ‖
The  altherin  horses  had  taken  a  direct  route  through  a  narrow  pass  within  the
Drahkahl Mountains on their  journey  from  the East  Lands,  though the  journey was so  fast
Adem had only seen the  great mountains rearing up before him, then he and his friends were
racing  through  the pass  with the  great  mountains surrounding  them on  all sides, then  they
were  charging   across green fields so fast it all seemed like some impossible dream when he
tried  to recollect.
He had received Healing from Lira each evening of their journey also. Lira had also
begun  to  teach  Jean  how  to  perform  the  Healing  with  the  understanding  that  Jean  would
always remain close to  him. Jean had not practiced the Healing on  him  ye t though she  felt
confident she would be able to in a day or two.
She said Lira was  very specific  in  her explanations, and Jean  had  had some  insight
into the practice from her mind - bridge  –   called the  kigare   –  with Tanriel, her Battle Angel.
The  kigare  was  a  mind- bridge  that  existed  between  Adem  and  his  Battle  Angel  also,  and
when the  four Battle Angels were first linked, the  kigare  extended to the three Sons of Odin
and the Daughter of Thor.  
Adem could sense  his  friends‘ emotions all  the time  now, though  not as strongly as
when their Battle Angels were joined in the Link. Orion had explained this Link in the  kigare
was a small part of the laws of their world that were governed by the Hero Chain. The  kigare
and the mind- bridge that extended from that connection were explained as being Links in the
Hero Chain.
They crossed through  the gateway to the Palace Courtyard where they passed  more
dark  coated  men,  though  Orion  explained,  ―These  men  are  Devoted  –  or  Apprentice
Alit‘aren,‖   who bowed or got down on their knees to pay tribute to the Arrival.  ― Gai‘den  i s
the  name  given to  the second - level  Apprentices who  are   in  training  to become  Alit‘aren. ‖
Those wore pins on the left side of their collars of a black wolf facing a red - and- gold lion,
and higher level Gai‘den also wore a blue- and- gold enamelled serpentine dragon on the right
side.
This reminded Adem of the belt buckle of the wizard figure that had called him ‗Son
of Odin‘ where he was standing with Anna the first night he visited this world.
It could not be  a coincidence. He  moved up next to Orion to ask about this, and the
wise king explained, ―It was most likely an emissary of Odin that you saw. The Great Angel
is believed to be sleeping at this time  –  a deep sleep, though he would still be able to send a
part of  his spirit to  your  world to  give  you  messages  in preparation  for  your Arrival.  The
woman Anna you speak of was most likely Odin‘s wife, Frigariel, sending a part of her spirit
to your Earth Realm to guide you towards your journey to our world.
― Odin   would have taken some risk upon  himself that he  would bring a part of the taint
back to our world by sending those emissaries, though it is my guess that they were certain
you  were  about  to  cross  over  into  our  world,  bringing  the  taint  with  you,  and  the re  was
nothing that could be done to stop you. In our world, Frigariel is most commonly  known as
Daiyon, the Sun Angel.‖
As  they  made  their  way  to  the  Royal  Stables  where  stablemen  took  their  horses,
Adem asked Jean about her knowledge of Anna.
―She  is  my  agent‖ was  really all  Jean  could  tell  him  besides,  ―she approached  me
during a photo shoot in Los Angeles. She told me she would make me a big star, and she told
me I had the aura for it. She bought me the ticket to Australia.
―She said I should make a n ame for myself in Australian television or films and that
she could provide me with modelling work in the meantime. Why do you ask, Adem?‖ Adem
did  not tell  her at this stage that Orion  had explained  that  Anna was actually a part of  the
spirit of the wife  of Odin, or the whole of the Great Angel in mind and spirit, whatever the
case was.
The Alit‘aren  he later  noticed wore not only the pins of the Wolf, Lion, and Dragon
on their collars but also on their belt buckles. The Alit‘aren belt buckles were a circu lar disc
of a sinuous line dividing a half- white, half - black circle  –  only these sigils had the red lion
over the white half and the blue dragon over the black.
―What  is that symbol?‖ Adem asked, to which Orion replied,  ―The  white and black
halves  symbolise  the  White  Snow  Fox  and  the  Black  Shadow  Wolf,  while  the  other  two
symbols are  the Red Fire Lion and the Blue Water Dragon.   Alit‘aren are the sworn protectors
of  the Sons of Odin and  the Daughter of  Thor, as are  the Ael  Tarael;   they  have been  your
sworn  protectors  since  the  Karaedhal  Prophecies  were  first  spoken  during  the  First  Age.
Kismerians  have built our world around you since that time.‖ Adem noticed the symbol with
the Lion and Dragon on the backs of the cloaks of many of the Ael Tarael also.
―The  Krielden sigil, ‖ Orion continued,  ―is  the symbol of the Power of the Saviours.
The Black Wolf half  of the disc represents the Shadow and the taint, and the White Fox half
represents  the Power of the Light. The Lion and the Dragon  are mediators between the  Light
and the Shadow, as both Powers flow through them.
―The  Great  Battle  will  be  the  ultimate  decider  of  the  eternal  contest  between  the
Darkness and the Light. Sigils are symbols of power and magic, so we chose these symbols at
the Dawn of Ages as they   represent the greatest warriors who were ever destined to fight for
Kismeria‖
After climbing a flight of wide stone stairs they entered the main doors of the Palace
through  high  red- and- golden  double  doors.  Their  journey  through  the  Palace  was  one  of
mixed  feelings  of  nervousness  and  awe  at  the  wonders  that  lay  sprawled  wall  to  wall  –
paintings  and tapestries  of battles and ceremonies of  heroes  and  legends; polished armour
standing  beside  mirrors as tall as the  high plaster ceilings worked  with  golden  cornices of
grapes and vines and  paintings of angels flying through blue skies; polished furn iture of oak,
pine, or redwood; ornaments and precious artefacts  were often placed upon tables or cabinets
and  statues  formed of pure  gold- and- silver  were displayed  in  shapes of  dragons and other
animals,  including  one  of  three  stags  which  was  said  to  be  symbolic  of  the  Sons   –all
glistening and gleaming as a result of dusting and polishing from the servants in black livery
slashed  with red,  white,  or blue,  moving  busily   about the  hallways  where  guards, soldiers,
and Guardians also stood at every corner and staircase.
The  guards and soldiers  mostly  wore  red woollen coats;  many carrying  large round
shields painted with the Krielden sigil in shining lacquer, while other  so ldiers also wore dark
blue cloaks of wool with large hoods falling around their shoulders tied with a round brooch
of the same sigil.
During  their  walk  through  the  palace  up  the  many  levels  towards  the  room  where
King  Tobin and  his wife, Queen Lydia, awaited  them, Orion explained ―The  Four  Rohjors
were also formed under the same symbols of power  –  the White Fox Rohjor, the Black Wolf
Rohjor,  the  Red  Lion  Rohjor,  and  the  Blue  Dragon  Rohjor.  Rohjors  are  four  separate
governing bodies through which the Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael work their schemes and politics
to organize armies, societies, even rulers, and they are essentially like Covens with their own
set of rules and laws, however any immoral king or queen can overrule any decision made by
each Rohjor Council.‖
―So who will have dominion over the immortal kings and queens, then?‖ Jean asked
in almost mischievous but self - important tones, ―As the Sons of Odin bring a toxic trouble to
the male half of the Power, and even the immortal kings are at risk of turnin g mad from its
corruption, holding sway over the decisions of their wives.
―So surely  then, only the White Snow Fox could be supreme ruler with the right to
command immortal kings and queens, and to overrule even  their  decisions, for the leader of
Kismeria must also be pure of heart and mind.‖
Orion raised a pointed brow perhaps in shock at the sudden rise in confidence of the
Daughter of Thor, and  her  words seemed to penetrate  his wards against revealing emotion,
though  Adem saw the  man was troubled by them as  he continued  his tour by adding,  ―The
red- coated  guards  and  soldiers  within  the  castle  are  King  Tobin‘s  men  however,  so  they
belong to the Lion Rohjor.‖ It seemed most likely the reason Orion had dodged the question,
was  because  her  words  were  absolute  truth  to  his  ears,  despite  how  unwilling  he  was  to
accept them. Her burst in confidence even made Adem a little nervous.
After climbing seven levels, they reached large double doors of polished oak worked
with golden lions. Guards greeted them and allow ed entrance to a large study;   high ceilings
with golden cherub cornices. The roof was painted blue skies and white clouds with colourfu l
birds flying through the air;  falcons, eagles, and hawks with brightly coloured wing tips.
King  Tobin and Queen  Lydia  sat on tall  rectangular- backed  thrones  of carved oak,
large red- and- gold  lions  forming the armrests on either side. Tobin was similar  looking to
Orion   light skinned with large dark eyes and dark silken hair tied back in a tail.  This king
and his queen were the other half of the two pairs of immortal rulers Adem had first seen in
his dreams and visions of this world, those incredible warriors that fought against the Shadow
for an Age or more, and there was evidence in the eyes of the two men in particular,  that they
were perhaps older than the tallest trees that stood in the nearby forest, for the experience and
wisdom of hundreds of years could be seen and understood when gazing into those eyes, and
the women also  had eyes  that  saw beyond the  years of exper ience of  the  life span of any
mortal, at least any mortal not able to wield the Power.
Tobin  had the same thick dark moustache and goatee as Orion also. He wore a gold
crown  worked  with  lions  standing  with  their  front  paws  outstretched  with  ruby  eyes.  His
gown was dark blue silk with gold- and- silver lions across the shoulders, cuffs, and hem, as
well as down the dividing halves of the robe; a belt of golden medallions with ruby- eyed lion
faces embossed on each.
―Welcome, King Orion, Queen  Elmira,‖  Tobin  sa id  in deep  tones.  ―I see  you  have
brought the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. I am gladdened by their Arrival. Already
I sense the taint on the male half of the Power, as I have for three days now, though it is the
first part of the Prophecy, the first stage of our fate.‖
Adem  considered  his  brief  visit  to  Kismeria  with  the  tower  and  goblin  and  the
Shadow Rider. That must have been years ago in the history of Kismeria though the taint was
not felt from this time to the time he arrived with his friends. He decided it was either that he
was not fully within the world of Kismeria in that first short visit, or that it required all three
of the Sons of Odin to bring the taint to teron.
Queen Lydia was tall and slender with firm muscles and glowing pale sk in. Her eyes
were large blue fire, and her hair was like golden silk tied in a thick braid similar to Queen
Elmira. She  wore a  gown of white silk  with a  hooded silk cloak of pale blue worked with
silver  scrollwork  and  white  foxes  around  the  edges.  A  diamond  tiara  sat  on  her  brow,
threaded into her hair and diamond rings sat upon gold bands on both hands. A belt of gold and- silver  medallions  hung  from  her  slender  waist;  a  gold  necklace  with  a  large  diamond
nestled between her ample bosoms.
She was strikingly beautiful  like Queen Elmira, despite their  large eyes and pointed
ears that took some time to get used to. Their eyebrows were pointed too, all the immortals;
they looked like elves basically. They are elves!  Adem thought excitedly.
―Welcome, Daughter of Thor,‖ Lydia said as she rose to make her way down the redcarpeted  floor towards Jean with  her  hands outstretched  in  greeting.  ―You  have the proud
face of a  great warrior woman. You are everything the Prophecies have  foretold and  more
than we could have expected. I look forward to training you to wield terael.
―We will make you the most powerful Ael Tarael ever. I sense the potential for great
power flowing through you. We will see what we can yield of this potential. Come, we will
leave the  men  to drink  and  feast and  you shall talk with  Elmira and  me about  your  home
world and its wonders.‖
Elmira and Lydia then led Jean out through a side door with their arms linked to hers.
They  talked softly as they went, and  four  Ael Tarael who  had stood  in  front of  the doors
followed the women out of the room. Adem  noticed  four Guardians  following  the women
down the hallway before they vanished from sight.
―They will be well guarded,‖ Tobin said to Adem. ―Now, we will drink and feast to
celebrate the First  Arrival. We  have  much to discuss though  it can wait  for you  to eat and
refresh yourselves. Follow me, to the Royal Dining Hall.‖
Eight Guardians with swords at their hips strode along in front of them as they exited
the room. They had been standing guard when Adem  and his friends first entered, all tall with
fair skin    some dark haired and dark eyed, while others had golden hair with blue or green
eyes.
Orion explained that the Nordics formed the base of the entire immortal race. Some
had tanned skin, and others had skin as dark as coal  –   like the Ruhalden, who were the Sea
Immortals. Orion explained that some Ruhalden had light brown skin with dark hair and eyes
though most were very dark skinned; however, some still had blue or green eyes.
The dining  hall was ver y  large with a huge polished oak table with over  fifty  highbacked  cushioned  chairs  surrounding  it.  Ambassadors  of  the  four  immortal  clans  –  the
Nordics, the Torvellen, the Dremelden, and the Ruhalden  –  were present at the banquet, and
they were all very tall with large eyes, pointed ears, and brows. They held themselves with
confidence, and their eyes were filled with wisdom and strength.
Wil found himself surrounded by half a dozen Ruhalden, and Carl became engrossed
in conversation with four of the Drem elden while Adem sat with Tobin and Orion while they
picked at plates of bread and cheese, duck, and turkey.
The long dining table was covered with dishes of roasted meats and vegetables, fruits,
breads,  and  cheeses.  They  drank  pints  of  ale  or  spiced  red  wines  from  ornate  goblets.
Guardians of the four clans were stationed around the room in their native garb, the Torvellen
in  the camouflage- style  torin’sidhe,  the Nordics  in bright coats and armour, the Dremelden
also  wore  the  torin’sidhe  under  their  cloaks,  and  the  Ruhalden  wore  bright  silks  –  baggy
trousers and short coats over colourful silk shirts  –  their coats and trousers  usually  worked
with silver- and- gold scrollwork, or square or triangular patterns; the colours  never  matched
and were garish to the  eye. Ruhalden also wore large curved blades at their belts in ornately
coloured scabbards, gold rings in their ears, and jewelled rings upon their fingers.
They look like pirates!  Adem thought to himself.
The hours rolled by, and the conversation grew louder as the men consumed ale and
wine and ate to their hearts‘ content. Orion and Tobin seemed most concerned with training
Adem and  his  friends to wield  the Power and  use their  weapons.  They explained that this
would  increase  the  strength  of  their  Battle  A ngels,  and  this  would  encourage  other  Great
Angels to  join their cause.  Tobin explained that not all  Great Angels would  wish serve the
Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor as Battle Angels. ―It will take some time for them to
trust you,‖ Tobin remarked. ― Your good deeds and your success in battles will bring fame to
your names, and this will attract the interest of other Great Angels. You will need more Battle
Angels to win this war.‖
***
The next three months were spent in training. By day, the three So ns of Odin practiced with
their  weapons against Nordic  Guardians within  the Palace Courtyard. In the evenings, they
were trained to wield the Lord‘s Power  – the Power – by Alit‘aren of the four immortal clans.
Adem‘s Battle Angel assisted him with knowledge of weapons, the Power, and strategies of
war.
This knowledge was passed to Adem‘s mind through the kigare although Adem never
summoned Arawn to obtain this information.  Ki’mera  levels were low for the Battle Angels
after the encounter with the Rahkwel a nd Nymloc. So the Battle Angels were allowed to rest
and gain strength from the growing abilities of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.
They held enough  ki’mera  orbs to withstand another attack similar to the first battle,
though the immortals war ned that it would be unwise to go seeking out demons to battle with
to try to obtain more ki’mera when they felt that the Saviours were still in need of many years
of training.
Sword  training  was perhaps  the  most  gruelling  for  Adem, physically, and drainin g
also. He started off with a number of Blademasters teaching him the forms of weaponry, but
particularly the sword in Adem‘s case. Forms of the sword and other weaponry had particular
names also, starting  with the Four Stances, of the Wolf,  Lion,  Dragon o r Fox.  Then  forms
were given elaborate names to describe the style of each move, names like Red Tiger Dances,
Silver Swan, Sickle Moon and  Right Stirrup. There were possibly thousands of names  like
these, with some attributed only to a particular weapon.
Blademaster‘s preferred the Wolf Stance to begin  most  forms, though  the  Lion and
Dragon were also popular for Guardians and other male warriors, while the Fox Stance was
most commonly only taught to women as a starting point to all female named forms.
Within the first week of sword training Adem‘s muscles and bones had begun to ache
to extremes, and Carl and Wil complained of the same. They did not see Jean much during
those  early  days  of  training,  as  the  Ael  Tarael  and  Blademaidens  that  were  teaching  her
preferred  to  keep  her  separate  from  the  men,  and  Adem  suspected,  and  hoped,  it  had
something to do with their noticing Jean‘s feelings for Adem.
They  used  wooden  weapons  in  the  early  stages  of  training,  at  least  when  fighting
against  well  trained  opponents,  but  they  always  wielded  their  steel  to  practice  the  forms
without  a  combatant,  to  learn  to  become  fluid  in  their  movements  with  the  weight  and
balance of each weapon. This part of their training was more meditative, a kind of dance of
rhythms and flows fro m one form to the next, Bear Claw with a downward swipe of the blade
from  up  high, changing  into White  Ram Charges, a kind of spearing of the sword to drive
into the chest of the opponent if contact was made —which left a nasty bruise and scratches
whenever  Adem  failed  to  deflect  such  a  move  against  a  wooden  sword—and  perhaps
finishing with Crimson Sun, which was a skull splitting swipe from up high again, though the
aim was to swing the sword up through the abdomen and chest of your opponent first, to open
them up before bringing the blade down in a spray of blood. It was therefore needless to say
that your opponent would be well massacred if any or all of those moves made contact.
Adem‘s lack of skill at deflecting these kinds of moves early on was the main  reason
he preferred to practice alone, moving through the forms without an opponent to potentially
wound him, for which they often received special forms of Healing to repair physical damage
to  their  flesh  and  bones.  Bruises  were  apparently  quite  simple  t o  repair  with  the  Power,
though forcing bone fractures to knit back together in a few minutes required more skill and
concentration, and exertion. Lira usually saw to these wound Healings, and Adem began to
feel somewhat comfortable around the woman, as she began to symbolise the caring aunt that
sought to nurse him back to health every time he suffered serious pain or injury, as well as
her other daily Healings to keep the taint removed from his psyche.
During  these three  months, Adem‘s ability to  wield  a lso  increased dramatically. He
learnt to lift and move objects or even people with the Power of Air.   This was an early form
of  magic,  used  by  the  First  Immortal  Kin  in  the  First  Age—that  was  in  fact  hundreds  of
millions of years after the Dawn of Ages when the Great Angels were first made and began to
craft  the  world—and  it  was  a  magic  that  was  taught  to  the  Immortals  by  various  Battle
Angels during those first days following the arrival of elves. This practice of magic required
some focus on the object or  materials you wished to levitate, as he harnessed the Power and
felt  its  electric  glow  filling  his  every  fibre,  then  teron  was  formed  into  weaves—
microfilaments of energy  that were  visible  in patterns of  various colours to the eyes of the
wielder, making it easier to understand the style of weaving for each form of magic spell —
and these weaves were also visible to other male wielders present, which is partly how Adem
was  first  instructed  on  how  to  create  each  weave,  the  other  method  was  through
communicatio n with Arawn  via the  kigare, through which  spells and  various other  talents
were often explained.
Air was a difficult element to master, though these weaves were taught early for this
very reason, as it increased the ability to harness  teron  and create easier weaves wielding the
elements of Fire and Earth, which were a strength for Alit‘aren in particular, while Ael Tarael
were  more often  stronger  in Water and  Air, although again  Air  was difficult  for even Ael
Tarael to wield to create extremely powerful s hields on a vast scale without being linked with
a number of other wielders.
When making an object levitate, Adem felt somewhat connected with the object once
it began to move, like an extension of his physical form, particularly his arms, similar to the
sensation  of  holding  a  sword  as  an  extension  of  his  physical  self.  Smaller  objects  were
obviously  much  easier  to  move  or  lift  than  a  boulder  or  a  human  body,  as  the  increased
weight of an object required a significant increase in the amount of  teron  that was harnessed
to achieve  the  feat. It actually  took the better part of the  first  two  months before  he  could
even  shift  one  of  the  heavy  set  Guardians  he  was  attempting  to  levitate,  and  when  he
managed to make them float it would be only a few inches off the  ground for a short time. He
thought  he  could  do  better  if  linked  with  Carl  and  Wil  however,  though  that  was  mostly
forbidden during the early stages of training.  
He learnt to make walls of flame with Fire, and he learnt to throw lightning from his
bare ha nds.  This was perhaps his favourite aspect of all the training he had learnt so far, as it
showed him his own potential for destructive forces against his enemies. Fire and lightning
was  easier  to  acquire,  and  although  the  weaves  were  still  quite  complex  to  master  in  the
beginning, once practiced for a number of weeks, he was able to hurl a blazing blue bolt of
flame from either hand almost instinctively. He did not fully understand the nature of how the
body and brain were working so quickly to form the weaves, after harnessing teron, and then
unleashing each attack as fast as he could gesture, but it seemed this complex arrangement of
thought,  spiritual  channelling  and  finally  the  release  of  the  energies  through  action,  were
achieved  in a  matter of  microseconds once  the  weaves were  learnt to the degree of being
called mastered.
He loved the feeling of lightning in his veins also, it was an ecstatic sensation; he felt
so alive from the Power he thought he might explode before he unleashed each attack upon
the  stuffed  dummies  that  burst  into  flames  on  impact.  The  force  of  the  blasts  was  also
considerable,  as  sometimes  even  stone  boulders  could  be  split  by  the  impact  of  a  bolt  of
lightning or bar of burning brilliance, suggesting it would also make a mess of an y physical
body it came into contact with, before burning the creature to a ball of cinders.
―Good, Adem Highlander, you are getting better already,‖ his magic instructor would
tell  him approvingly.  ―Remember to  focus on  your breathing, at times  in a relaxed state of
little  control of  each  gentle breath,  though  you  must also concentrate on  the techniques to
increase  circulation  of  air  in  the  blood  when  you  are  under  heavy  exertion  via  continued
wielding.‖
―Yes, Alit‘aren Torin,‖ Adem would reply, ―I always  strive to do as you command.‖
―That  is  good  also,  Adem,  you  are  a  fine  pupil.  I  see  great  potential  in  you,  and
perhaps the skills necessary to become a leader, though Carl Wilder is swifter when it comes
to learning weaves, you are second and Wil Martyr needs to do some catching up.
―Your strength in wielding Fire is exceptional amongst the three of you however, it is
quite remarkable in fact to see you draw so much so quickly, and to unleash your attacks with
such skill and efficiency.‖
―Thank you, Alit‘a ren Torin.‖
―Just call me Torin,‖ the dark eyed immortal replied, ―and I shall try to remember to
call you just by your fist name also, Adem, for we have become friends, have we not?‖
Adem  was stunned and elated to receive such praise and such kind  words  from  his
teacher, he was baffled for thinking of how to reply before he simply said, ―Friends we are.‖
―That is well then,‖ the man said with arms crossed in his dark Alit‘aren coat. ―But
tell  me  more  of  your  emotions,  for  these  can  cloud  your  focus  and  jud gement  at  crucial
moments in battle. You have strong feelings for the Daughter of Thor, is this not true?‖
―Admittedly, Jean is very beautiful,‖ Adem said as he felt he might be beginning to
blush with heat rising to his cheeks.
―Yes; and the Daughter of  T hor  is  also kind and  wise and quick  in  her words and
actions. But I wonder, would you go so far as to admit that you even  love her?‖
―I admit that,‖ Adem said timidly, his feelings for Jean were well known throughout
the kingdom by now, but he was always s hy about expressing those emotions, and guarded,
as if he wished to keep it a secret all to himself, despite everyone already knowing how he
felt.
―That is a splendid thing!‖ Torin remarked. ―Love is all powerful, and if she feels the
same way as you, and  I believe  from  what I observe of  her  that she does also  have strong
feelings for you, then the two of you will form a special bond beyond even the magic of the
kigare.  It  will  unite  you,  make  you  both  stronger  at  times  of  doubt  and  self  pity,  more
courageo us in battle as love fans the fires of your hearts, but beware, there is a flip side to this
wonderful emotion, that  you  may become too attached to Jean Fairsythe, and you  may  feel
completely responsible for her protection and well being, perhaps to the po int that you or she
both forsake your own caution for safety and self preservation, and this could be your worst
mistake, quite deadly indeed.‖
―That is sound advice, Teacher.‖
―Please, just Torin, as I have already told you to call me.
―Yes, you must foc us and meditate on this overwhelming attraction you have for the
Daughter of Thor, although focusing on the object of your desires is not normally a practiced
form  of  rational  thought  towards  achieving  enlightenment,  yet  in  your  case  I  believe  it  is
crucia l for you to understand the need for you to control your emotions, do not let them rule
your decisions to a potentially fatal end.
―I do however consider you to be perhaps one of the only men I would call fitting as a
suitor to our  female Saviour, the White Snow Fox,  for  you are  not only a Son of Odin—
which perhaps gives you the right in itself—but you are also a formidable character, strong of
mind  and  thought  and  feeling,  you  are  compassionate  and  a  shrewd  thinker,  you  are  also
quick  to  action  but  you  co mmand  a  presence  of  calm  when  your  symptoms  are  under
sufficient treatment.
―For this reason, and because you are such a fine student of war and Lore, I give you
my blessing, to  love Jean Fairsythe and  to pursue  her  until  she  is  finally  yours and  yours
al one. Take pride  in such  well wishes,  for I do  not pronounce  my approval of such  match
making with frivolous abandon. You deserve to love her, Adem, for despite the illness I see
and sense in you, I also know the pure intentions of your heart.‖
―You confoun d me with kind words, Master, Torin!‖ Adem said the man‘s name with
some  nervousness, still  finding  it difficult  not  to address the  man  with some other  title to
reflect his rank and role as tutor.
―Very well, let us return to your training. Now Earth, I wa nt you to wield a weave of
Earth that will obliterate that statue over there.‖
Adem stared across the courtyard with raised brows at the taller than life statue of a
man standing proudly in a crown and thick cloak with an ornamental sceptre in one hand and
a perfect stone sphere in the other. The figure had been an immortal by the pointed ears, that
much was certain, and likely a King!
―But it is such a fine statue, and of a royal too! Why would you want me to destroy it?
Wouldn‘t it bring me shame amongst  these people to destroy a statue of one of their ancient
rulers?‖
―He was  not just any ruler,‖  Torin remarked with some hint of disdain  for the  man.
―He was in fact the Second Nordic King to ever rule. His name was Lenk, younger brother of
the famed Elarja  Rinhannen, who was in fact the true heir to the Nordic throne after the death
of their father, the First Nordic King, Rodin Cloudwalker.
―Elarja refused to accept his place as the new Nordic King, for as you know, by that
Age Elarja had already begun to wield the Four Time Stones, to travel to the distant future
Ages, teaching Lore to the First Men, discovering facts about the potential future timelines,
and eventually on his doomed quest to attempt to rescue dead heroes from many battles, only
moments bef ore their demise. It was  for this  last quest  that Elarja  is truly  famous, and  he
would have made a fine King, if he had not vanished throughout space and time for far longer
back through the Ages than any man that still lives can remember.‖
―So why destroy  the statue of his brother Lenk?‖
―Lenk was a catastrophe to the Elder Days of Immortal Kin. The man was a plain fool
to begin with, but when he took his place as Nordic King, so began the downfall of the might,
and  majesty  of  Nordic  ambition  and  accomplis hments.  The  Seven  Hundred  Years  of
Darkness was a  name they  later  gave  to  that  Age,  when the precious knowledge and  hard
work  of  their  forefathers  was  wasted  on  countless  marches  into  the  Forbidden  Realms  of
alternate worlds, where Lenk sought to rule and  hold dominion over the other races and clans
of those dimensions, endless wars ensued between the Immortals and the Kjia‘hyenti, or Leaf
Guardians, whom before that Age were close friends of Rodin Cloudwalker, and they walked
amongst the immortals of those days sharing precious gems of Lore and Elemental Magic.
―Lenk was responsible for destroying that sacred bond between the two races, and the
Leaf  Guardians placed  many restrictive wards  upon the  land of Kismeria during the Seven
Hundred Years, limiting the potential of the elf kin for growth and new learning of magic that
was forged in the world during the Crafting of the Old Ways, by Odin and Daiyon and their
descendants.
―It  is considered therefore  the  fault of  Lenk‘s entirely,  that  much of the Old Ways
Magic has been forever lost to our people, and for that reason alone I wish very much for you
to  destroy  his  statue!  Only  a  fool  would‘ve  ever  commissioned  the  work —a  fool  that
commissioned a statue of another  great  fool!—and I  have stood  in this practice  yard  many
times and grit my teeth in ire as I stated upon this grossly arrogant carving of a rabid dog, that
should‘ve been put down long before he had the chance to rule.‖
Adem  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  that  his  teacher‘s  tirade  was  appearing  to  be
compl eted. He had heard of the Legends of Elarja Rinhannen, and had studied a number of
books based on his ancient adventures, but he had never heard of his brother Lenk, and now
he thought he understood why that part of history had been buried for so long.
―If  you say so, Torin, I will do it. But it makes me quite nervous to do so.‖
―Do  not  be  nervous,  Adem  Highlander,‖  Torin  said  with  controlled  vitriol  aimed
towards  the target.  ―Blast  that  damn  fool‘s  face  and  form  into a pile of  rubble and dust.‖
Immortals n early always addressed mortals by their first and last names, and Torin must have
also been having trouble adapting to just calling him Adem. The fact that he had used his full
name  this  time  however,  suggested  to  Adem  that  the  man  was  absolutely  genuine  i n  his
commands, and he also sensed the slightest hint of amusement in those tones.
Adem began to  form the weaves  necessary  for wielding  Earth  in the spell  he  would
require, and  the  feeling of  locking  his  mind around the weave  from previous  times  he  had
learnt them was similar to  the  first time  he  had  learnt to wield Chi,  many  years  ago back
home. Like that time, when he had first sensed energy being released through the palms of his
hands, his mind had to lock around the spiritual mechanisms required to ach ieve the ability,
and this was very similar to the technique of learning weaves, whether copying from another
Alit‘aren teacher‘s example, or learning through the kigare  via Arawn.
There was a  relationship between the word chi, and  its representation of  a  kind of
energy  force,  with  the  names  of  firstly  ki’mera  in  this  world,  the  ‗ki‘  part  of  the  word
resembling the Japanese name for the same force, and here Adem saw a definite link in the
histories of the two worlds. Ki’mera being the name for demon souls t hat fuelled the magic of
Battle  Angels and also wielders, so again there  was that connection, and the  name was so
similar to the name for this planet, Kismeria, which was named deliberately to correlate with
the energy force, though according to Arawn the  two names were as old as each other, along
with kigare, that had existed even before the Great Angels in the mind and spirit of the Lord.
He  used this knowledge and ability to  harness  flows of  Earth while  teron  filled  his
flesh and bones, the purity of the  Lord‘s Power a blessing  to his  heart, though at the same
time he was sickened by the foulness of the corruption that also flowed through his veins, a
slick of  leprous bile that  made  teron  feel  vile and corrosive to a point that  he could barely
stand the a gony of  it.  This corruption  seemed to  fuel  his rage as  he  unleashed  the weaves
upon the statue—with strands of coloured  light  flowing around  his  fists that could only be
seen by male wielders though the force itself was hidden to anyone except perhaps the   eyes
or minds of Battle Angels, as was the case with weaves of Air—first with a force that made
the statue‘s head explode into a cloud of dust; then he gestured again as the form of the stone
split up through the base in vast cracks until the entire statue began to crumble into pieces.
―Impressive!‖ Torin remarked with a slight grin. ―You will soon be strong enough to
take on a battle more serious than the one you faced in the Eastlands. Relax now, and release
your hold on teron.‖
Adem did as he was commanded, though although it was a great relief to let go of that
horrid taint, the bliss of the Power always left him longing to hold it once more, and to draw
more from its brilliance that seemed to make his soul shine with every breath.
Though the  act of destroying  the statue also brought a  new overwhelming sense of
fear and dread, as  if again some ominous  force —perhaps  Lenk  himself reaching out  from
beyond the grave to take his revenge—made him regret being so willing to demolish a statue
of the Second Nordic King, but  it was  more than just shameful, as  his  fear that even  Lenk
himself may seek out his vengeance as a wailing ghost that haunted his dreams, was perhaps
not impossible, and in fact with his knowledge of his own world, and the miraculous nature
of  this one, these thoughts began to gather in his mind as a very plausible possibility, and for
that reason he was truly unnerved.
***
Adem‘s  love  for Jean grew  in those autumn  months  –  that were known as  dohkrahr  by the
Kismerians, the  four seasons being  andurin  for summer,  dohkrahr  for autumn,  shiendel  for
winter, and  icuriest   for spring  –  and he spent as much time alone with her as he was allowed
by his trainers. Mostly it was after dinner as Jean also ate alone with the Ael Tarael and Lydia
and Elmira.
Adem and Jean would often sneak up  to the balcony of one of the high  towers and
look  out  over  the  city  in  the  moonlight.  On  one  of  those  nights  Adem  looked  over  the
rooftops of the surrounding city of Nordhel with a searing pain in his heart, for he had l onged
to spend the  night  with  Jean ever  since  that  first kiss, and as they stood  there  holding one
another, and he gazed at the moonlight tracing her golden locks and the city itself lit up like
some wonderland that emanated magic from stone and tile, and  he felt that the magic was a
part of his love for Jean, as if that love could alter the very environment, but he knew in truth
it was what people back home often called seeing the world through ‗rose coloured glasses‘.
His love for Jean was the most powerful intoxicant he had ever experienced, in some
ways it set his soul aflame even more than wielding  teron, for it made him feel invigorated,
refreshed and more alive than he had felt for many years before first visiting this world, and
before he met the wom an he wished to marry and start a family with. He adored her, it was
beyond  an  obsessive  infatuation—though  perhaps  that  is  how  it  began—and  when  she
declared her love for him in return, he was beyond ecstatic, the elation that flowed through
his veins was a coursing electric vibe that made his skin tingle and his soul glow.
They  kissed  many  times  and  often  held  each  other  for  long  embraces  while  they
promised their love to one another, over and over again.
―Do  you  love  me,  Adem  Highlander?‖ Jean would ask , to  which  he  would always
reply in earnest, ―I adore you, Jean Fairsythe.‖
―How much do you love me?‖
―I love you more than life itself, my soul is enlightened by your presence, my heart
yearns for your kisses and your embrace.‖
―What would you do  if  you  lost  me?‖ Jean asked with  large blue eyes shining  in a
way that suggested her own heart felt the same yearning.
―I would lose myself, if that day ever came to pass. I would lose all hope, and I would
never recover.‖
―What would  you do,  if  you could have  me?‖ Jean wore a playful smile after those
words, as she pressed her form up close against his own.
―I would be the happiest man alive, Jean. I would be so bold I would gain the strength
to lead these people, to show them that victory was achievable. I would  give them hope.‖
Jean sighed and moved her form away from his, as she gazed into his eyes once more
and said with some concern to her tones, ―You talk in such absolutes, Adem! You so easily
go from one extreme to the other, it even sounds a little bipolar. That‘s not your condition, is
it?‖
Adem smiled and shook his head, though he knew there was real sadness in his eyes.
―You just frighten me when you talk about the possibility that I might lose you, Jean.
I can‘t even bear to imagine it. I won‘t ever let  that happen, I promise!‖
―But that  is exactly  my point,‖ Jean said  with a slightly  higher pitch. ―You  must be
willing to accept that I could die in one of these battles we are yet to face. You must be able
to face that, to know that you cannot protect me  all the time.‖
―Don‘t say such things!‖ Adem said with pain gripping his heart. 
―It‘s a simple truth, Adem. I also must face that I could lose you, too! There will be
many dangers for all of us, when we go out into the world to face the minions of the Shad ow.
We cannot let the fact that one of us might very likely die; put a blemish on our obligations to
lead these people to victory and salvation.‖
―Those are wise words, Jean.‖
―You  must promise  me that  if that day ever comes, you will  not give up  hope. You
must promise that  you will  fight even  harder, to avenge  me  and to be the  hero  you were
destined to be.  Do you  promise?”  Jean asked the  final question with a change of tone that
suggested  it was very important that he do as she asked.
Adem sighed deeply be fore he pulled her close again, kissing her forehead and staring
into her eyes as he replied, ―I promise that if I ever lose you, Jean Fairsythe, I will tear down
the moon and the stars, and hold up the sun to turn night into day, if that is what is requir ed to
avenge you.‖
Jean  laughed  softly  as  tears  began  to  well  in  her  eyes,  staining  her  cheeks  as  she
smiled warmly and kissed  his  lips with passion. When  she pulled away again she replied,
―Absolutes, again, Adem! But that was a good one. I won‘t forget your promise.‖
An  Ael  Tarael  would  always  appear  at  the  doorway  to  the  tower  whenever  they
planned  to  go  somewhere  else  together.  Adem  had  wanted  to  get  Jean  alone  in  his
bedchamber since their first night spent in Nordhel, though the Ael Tarael always mana ged to
put a stop  to this  idea  whenever  he planned  to  make an  attempt. He  guessed that the Ael
Tarael feared that love would interfere with their training. Still, he yearned to spend one night
alone with Jean, to lie with her, and feel her soft skin and firm body pressed against his own.
***
One  night, as Adem  lay  in  his bedchamber  with  his  sword propped against the side of  the
bed, the lantern light on the dresser beside  his four posted bed went out. A blast of red flames
blossomed in the darkness, wrapping around  a man of cloaked shadows with eyes of yelloworange  flames within the cowl.  The crimson  light  glowed aro und the  form of the Shadow
Man—a  malevolent  heat that seemed to draw  upon the darkness  like some  form of  energy
that fed the power of the cloaked form, as that radiance of evil filled the room and weighed
heavily  upon Adem‘s soul —and  when  he spoke, his  voice was  like thunder. ―The  hour  has
come for you to face your fate! The Dark One has ordered your death!‖
In those few moments, Adem threw his   legs over the side while drawing his blade that
glowed bright blue. The Shadow Man raised a  dark blade that glowed with blood red runes;
striking downwards at Adem‘s skull, as Adem brought up his blade  in defence. A flash of red
and blue  light se emed  to  m ake  the walls tremble, and  it seemed this  vibration also  caused
some kind of shield surrounding the  walls  to shatter,  which  may  have been the  reason  his
guards had not yet sensed or heard the intruder.
Two Nordic Guardians burst into the chamber with arrows of green and blue aimed at
the Shadow Man. Rior and Aedlen drew deeply from teron with each arrow they unleashed—
their  fluid  movements  firing  the arrows  in a blur of repeated  motions, as the bolts of  light
flew to strike a wall of red flames  in rapid bla sts that sent shockwaves reverberating through
the room, even blasting  some of the bricks  within the stone walls  loose . The Shadow Man
then  gestured  with  a  black  gauntleted  fist,  and  the  two  immortals  were  thrown  across  the
room, their skulls hitting the s tone walls with a heavy thud!
During those moments,  Adem felt a surge of the Power seep into his blood and bones.
Teron  filled him with incredible heat and impossible cold, the corruption of the taint floating
on that river of  light  like dark acid. Light  sprang  from the sword  forming a shield of thick
blue lightning. The bolts had the faces of blue serpents that snapped at the dark armour of the
Shadow Man. Adem didn‘t know if that was his use of the Power or some magic unleashed
by Arawn.
His  first  instinct  was  to  summon  Arawn,  though  the  words  he  shouted  were,
― Shei’heildorth  Alfodr!”  He‘d  learnt  some  of  the  Immortal  Tongue  during  those  three
months of training. He didn‘t remember when he‘d learnt that name though he understood its
meaning when he said it. Fire Spear of the All Father!
A simpler version of the name would have been Odin’s Spear.
A white hot bolt of blue light shot forth from the shield of blue fire serpents, lancing
in a straight line as thick as Adem‘s forearm. The Shadow Man roared as t he bolt of fire tore
through  his  heart.  A  moment  later,  the  shadow  figure  vanished  in  a  twisting  of  light  and
shadows,  and  the  amber  light  of  the  lantern  returned  to  the  room.  Two  more  dark - haired
Guardians entered the room followed by a golden- haired Ael  Tarael with bright blue eyes  –
Eleil  Tancroft was  her  name  –  who  made  her way  to  the two  fallen Guardians to  rest  her
hands on their heads.
―Nordhel  is  under  attack,‖  Daedlen  said  flatly  as  if  he  were  describing  a  chilly
evening.  The  green - eyed  Guardian  wo re  an  emerald  coat  and  breastplate;  dark  leather
trousers and  leather boots, as did  Norin, the dark- eyed Guardian,  in   a red coat and armour;
wielding an arrow of burning crimson. Their cloaks mingled with the shadows of the room as
if  they  were  seeking  to  remain  hidden  from  enemy  eyes.  Daedlen ‘s  breastplate  was
emblazoned with the sigil of the Wolf Rohjor and Norin‘s  was of the Lion.
―There  are  Souljhin  moving  throughout  the  castle,‖  Daedlen  explained  to  Adem.
Souljhin  was  one  of  the  names  for  the  Shadow  Riders.  They  were  also  known  as  the
Swordsmen of the Shadow. ―Guardians also fight them on the streets of Nordhel. There may
be over three hundred of them inside the walls of Nordhel    a considerable force. We expect
many casualties as there is no  fast or ea sy way to cure  the taint of Souljhin blades.
―We must fight our way to King Tobin and King Orion. They‘ve moved to one of the
higher  chambers.‖  Just  then,  Carl  and  Wil  strode  into  the  chamber  behind  two  more
Guardians.
―Where is Jean?‖ Adem asked urgently.
―I am here,‖ Jean said as she entered behind Carl and Wil with two Ael Tarael behind
her. The chamber  was twelve paces by twelve with a  large  marble  fireplace, table, chairs,
dressers, and  a large  wardrobe. A chest at the foot of the bed held the clothing, armour, belt,
and bow that Adem changed into and equipped.
He took out the red woollen coat and crimson armour; dark trousers and black leather
boots turned- down at the knee. Carl, Wil, and Jean wore the same clothing and armour they‘d
been gifted on   the first day of their Arrival. Carl and Wil drew back on their bow strings to
create arrows of  flame.  Adem sensed  the elation and revulsion  that  filled  the spirits of  his
Brothers when  they began  to wield the corrupted Power. It was a delicate balance be tween
love and hatred for the bliss that was often overwhelmed by the vileness of the taint.
―Stay behind us,  and  use your bows to distract the Souljhin,‖  Daedlen ordered. ―Do
not attempt hand- to- hand combat with any of the m . They are highly skilled with t heir swords,
and  you will  meet a swift death  if  you try to  face one alone. If  you‘re trapped by  one,  you
must summon your Battle Angels.‖
They  left the bedchamber and  moved through the  hallways with Guardians and Ael
Tarael  forming a guard around  Adem and  his friends. Guardians, guards, and soldiers moved
about the hallways with the  look of panic  written clearly on their  faces. Screams were also
heard  in the distance, along with men roaring in defiance amidst the   clash of steel  blades, or
the heavier repeti tious thud that suggested Souljhin were battering soldiers holding shields of
crafted metals.
They moved with haste up a flight of stairs that took them to  one of the highest main
floors,   where a dozen  more Guardians stood  in alert stances, their weapons d rawn and their
faces and eyes darting  left and right as  if to see everything  at once .  The entire  guard were
moving with stealth through a hallway crossing when Adem turned—at the sound of clashing
steel —to see a warrior lock blades with a Souljhin that sto od taller than any immortal he had
ever seen!—as the crimson blade slid along one side of the defender‘s, sliding back beneath
to whip the weapon aside and lop off the man‘s skull in a red fountain.
Adem was frozen stiff as he gazed on the event, while Daedlen stood crouched by his
side with a hand resting on his shoulder, and Adem looked back to see Rior holding a hand
over  Jean‘s  mouth  to  muffle  her  attempts  to  scream.  Everyone  had  frozen  still  by  some
Guardian  instinct  that  led the others, and  Adem  had  heard  that  Guardians could  sense  the
presence of demons and other Shadowspawn, so perhaps that it explained it.
For Adem  it was  not so acute, just a daunting sense of evil bleeding  from  the  very
walls with so many Souljhin skulking about the palace, and he  would not have detected the
location of the tall one if he had not heard the blades clash first.
Flames  and  shadows  danced  around  the  massive  cloaked  monster—and  Adem‘s
position  was  also  drenched  in  darkness  as  the  lanterns  had  been  extinguished  before  they
reached the crossing,  most  likely by Souljhin  to  increase their ability to  infiltrate  in  greater
numbers, as a rule of the kingdom was that ‗no place should be darkened by night unless it is
a place of sleeping‘, and this suggested a Darksouled had take n part in allowing the Souljhin
to  first enter the kingdom, perhaps by snuffing out the  lights  in a certain  hallway,  like this
one—as it stood in the distant crossing of another division of halls, those eyes of malevolence
staring  from beneath the cowl  like dark seeds,  filled with a hatred  for mankind, though  not
seeing Adem and the others where they crouched,  the terrifying  force of pure sin radiating
throughout  the  atmosphere  as  the  screams  of  men  fighting  and  dying  echoed  from  that
location and beyond, until the figure stalked ahead and out of sight.
Daedlen  held  a  finger  up  to  his  own  lips  to  signal  silence  when  Adem  had  first
glanced upon the Guardian, and he continued to do so for a time after the Souljhin vanished
from view, until the entire host bega n to creep onwards with even greater stealth.
Adem offered his hand to Jean, but she refused, and he knew, or at least hoped, it was
because she was just too focused, and perhaps too proud to accept his help, though perhaps
she also knew the quick thinking of Guardians like Rior was the most likely thing to keep her
alive at this point in time.
They moved on with caution, though with an agile step to try to reach the kings and
queens to lend aid, but also in the hope that Orion and Tobin and their wives cou ld provide
the protection  they  desperately needed. Daedlen led the party, often halting with a fist raised
as  his Guardian senses detected Souljhin  skulking  in the distance. This  resulted  in a slow
journey  for  the  remainder  of  hallways  they  needed  to  cross ,  until  they  were  nearing  the
library, when just as  they rounded a corner, three of the deadly assassins  slithered into view,
morphing  from  the  shadows at the end of  the  hall, they stood  like  tall  shadows,  wielding
swords of dark grey steel that glowed wit h hot crimson runes.
The tallest of the three Souljhin pointed a black gauntleted finger with a pointed black
nail—like  a  claw—at  Adem  as  it  hissed,  ―We  have  come  for  the  Sons  of  Odin  and  the
Daughter of Thor. Any who stand in our way shall meet their dea ths.‖
Adem was about to summon Arawn when he heard three strings strummed, the strings
of a harp; the sound was strong and pure and reverberated through the stone walls as if the
strings were  made  with   the  Power.   A  strange  illuminating  force  seemed to  take  over their
surroundings, not only visually, but also as a presence that reminded him of growing old and
accepting your fate to pass over to the next realm, or falling in battle while defending your
ground and your people, dying with courage and never giving up until the last drop of blood
was spilt on the thirsty soil, as a   great cry was heard, the shouts of many voices, both male
and female  courageous  yet haunting  voices from beyond the grave!
The Harp of Souls!   Adem   thought  in stunned wonder.
Clouds  billowed down the  hallway around the  feet of the  three Souljhin,  a wicked
grey fog that seemed to move with a hungry vigour as it covered the entire hallway in brief
moments.
A  figure of  light appeared behind the Souljhin; a tall  man  with  large blue eyes  and
pointed ears, a silver crown upon his hair of shadows, sword of golden light and armour of
blue fire. Adem knew  his name  instantly  –  information passed to  him  from  Arawn through
the kigare –  it was Taebrel Goldensabre! His coat and trousers were dark s ilk with bright blue
boots and gauntlets, and although the figure was transparent and formed of glowing fire, there
was a real substance to his stance, as if he occupied the space with a physical presence that
was stronger than any of the living men that s tood nearby and watched.
The Souljhin hissed in agitation, seeming to sense the presence of the ghost without
gazing  upon  him, and Adem  guessed they  also  sensed  the  force of these Heroes opposing
their wicked might even before the clouds had flowed about t heir feet like an omen of death.
Orion and Tobin appeared  in the  hallway behind the figure of  light as  more  ghostly
figures  flowed  around  them.  A  woman  with  d ark  hair  tied  in  a  thick  braid  like  burning
shadows,  her sword of silver  glowed like a small star. It was Terese Silverblade  armour and
gauntlets  of  shining  crimson;  a  dark  coat  and  trousers  with  red  boots  of  pure  flame.  She
danced about  in  front of Adem‘s  view,  morphing  from one side of  the  hall to  the other to
move around Tobin and Orion  like some  fairy phantom, her blade of  white  light  leaving a
glow  mark  in  Adem‘s  vision  whenever  she  moved  from  one  place  to  another.  Her  eyes
looked sad, filled with sorrow, though there was a fierceness to them also, dark fires burned
there that spoke of centuries  of life experiences, wisdom and pride expressed brightly in the
beautiful pale face of a Hero of Legend.
Two  tall  male  figures  wielded  double- edged  axes;  the  Battleaxe  Brothers,  their
armour  and gauntlets shone with the same bright colours as their weapons, shadow trousers,
and  coats  with  eyes  of  green  and  blue  fire.  The  brothers  were  built  like  a  pair  of  oxen
standing upright on hind legs, dark locks tied back in tails around wide but rectangular jaws.
They  gave  Adem  the  impression  of  Stones  that  can  Neve r  be  Moved,  as  they  shimmered
between  a  phantom  glow  and  a  substance  that  seemed  more  solid  than  the  stone  walls
surrounding them, impenetrable muscle and might that would not shift if they were hit by a
cannon ball, their massive double bladed axes glowin g pale green and aqua as if exuding cold
menace.  Guardian  cloaks  flowed  around  their  muscular  bulks  that  seemed  to  bond  with
darkness, changing in colours to blend with the fog covered floor, or fading to near invisible
with the rise and fall of their chests.
Arig Flamebow stood  in a cloak of blue silken flames—worked with red- and- golden
runes upon the cuffs and hem   and  glowing sigils of dragons,  lions and  wolves—wearing  a
crimson  mask  worked  with  black  runes  similar  to  Arawn.  Already  this  figure  appeared
somewhat cursed by the taint on teron, as his form seemed to emanate shadows as it flickered
between apparition and substance, his dark braided pony tail drinking in the light as his bow
of crimson fire  released a blurring wave of burning arrows—glowing like flying shafts of hot
magma—that thudded into the black- plated armour of the three Souljhin who had turned at
the sound of Orion‘s threatening cry .
The  racinthen  armour  of  the  Souljhin  absorbed  the  arrows  though  all  three  were
pushed off balance by the at tack, blasts of bright light and a shuddering echo surrounded each
demon as they  huddled together and retreated,  now slinking slowly towards  Adem and  his
friends.
A woman appeared with bright blue eyes and two golden sword hilts above her  dark
blue breastplate, she drew the blades and roared like a Guardian as a man  appeared beside her
with a crimson shield  and burning blade, and another  morphed into view  in golden armour,
and he  held a spear of bright  flames.
The illuminated figures flowed along the clouds  as spectres of light and shadows,   to
surround the demon men , launching   into  a blurring  attack that encased the Souljhin in warps
of burning energies, their crimson blades flickering desperately as the Heroes began a fierce
battle cry, seemingly punishing  their enemies with  fear  itself,  and  it  seemed then that  the
Souljhin were afraid, at facing warriors that had cheated Death.
There was  no  hope  for the  Souljhin; defending  themselves  for brief  moments—for
although the Souljhin were known as the Swordsmen  of the Shadow, the speed and strength
of  those  glowing  ghost  blades  outpaced  and  outnumbered  them—before  they  were  cut  to
pieces, bloody chunks of armour and  flesh  falling  into the  clouds below that  glowed with
images of skulls traced in shadows upon the g rey light.  Ki’mera  orbs rose from the Souljhin
that were consumed by the souls of the Heroes of Will.
Taebrel  Goldensabre  then  spoke  to  Terese  Silverblade  and  the  Battleaxe  Brothers,
saying, ―Guard the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.‖
―As you command, King Taebrel,‖ Terese replied, with fist to breastplate, as  Taebrel
and Arig Flamebow  continued down the hallway, moving as if floating along the clouds,  with
more Heroes of Will appearing behind them –  Taren Lightsblood; golden haired with her blue
flaming spear, emerald armour, and   red  gauntlets, Jarien Stonespear; dark of  hair and eyes
with a spear of  grey stone that shone with white light—the spear was said to have been light
as a  feather, perfectly balanced  and that  it  never  required sharpening, a s  it was crafted of
ancient magic—his armour and gauntlets were crimson fire  over a robe of silk shadows, then
doz ens  more  of  the  ancient  Heroes—Kobahl  Eagleblade,  Breeanna  Goldenarrow,  Rocard
Flamefist, Elizel Lightshield, Vohn Redhawk, each figure shinin g with the light of Elemental
Magic, and each one a ghost that had marched back from across the grave, summoned by the
calling of the Harp of Souls, an ancient enchanted relic made by Odin during an early Age,
and gifted to the First Bloods of immortal kin, for them to safeguard, but also to protect them,
as warriors fell in countless battles against the Shadow, and those that were considered most
worthy were shackled to the Hero Chains of the Shield of Fire, to be called upon in hours of
direst need—as the y took form and substance from beams and waves of glowing  light, and
they moved so fast Adem‘s  eyes had trouble seeing and naming them all as they swept down
the hallway and out of sight.
Adem felt a deep sorrow in the presence of these Heroes, knowing the y had lived and
died as a great sacrifice for this world he was also beginning to know and love, and he felt the
honour and bravery of that sacrifice, though their presence also brought emanations of a great
sense of woe, to bear witness to living ghosts,  who would fight here and now, and then return
to the spirit  world, chained to the Shield  until they  were called  forth again, and  Adem  had
learnt enough  to know  that each of these  warriors  had  lived such a  fate countless  times as
they were churned out by th e Great Cycle time and again, to be reborn and to live another life
of good deeds and to die young, or old, in battle or betrayed by their enemies, but always for
a great sacrifice,  for the people of Kismeria, that remembered  them as Heroes of Will,  for
which their names became Legend.
Chapter
6
The Heroes of Will
―Do  not  fear,  Son  of  Odin,‖  Terese  said  in  posh   tones  that  were  filled  with   a  surprising
amount of warmth. ―We will protect you.‖
―Queen Elmira and Queen Lydia are safely protected within the  Hall of Scriptures,‖
Tobin explained in urgent tones. It was the entrance to one of the Royal Libraries. ―We have
warriors there also. ‖
― I feared you were in danger, ‖ Orion said,  ― so I used the Harp of Odin to summon the
Heroes.  They don‘t like to be summoned unless there is a great battle to be won, though:   we
urged them to assist us as we feared for  your  lives. We also would have needed them to rid
Nordhel of the Souljhin. In this bold a move; it is clear o ur enemies have become desperate! ‖
They  made  their  way back to the  Hall of Scriptures; the room was an entrance  hall
over  fifty paces wide and twice as deep, oak bookshelves as  high as  the ceilings  lined  the
walls with large rolling ladders to reach   higher shelves. The colourful spines of books filled
every shelf, some  with  gold  lettering on black  leather bound  volumes.  The roof was white
plaster with gold cornices, and the floor was pale red- and- green marble.
Heroes of Will  – both mortal and immortal –  stood within the room; they were  figures
of  glowing  light,  enchanted  beings  that  radiated  both  purity  of  spirit  but  also  a  kind  of
wrongness felt in the air, a conflict of the laws of space and time.
Duron Stoneskull stood  like a  thick  muscled  giant, dark of  hair with eyes burning
emerald, a mace  marked  with runes of light in his  massive fist s.
Raeleene Redguard was strikingly beautiful, large blue eyes like burning crystal and
waves  of  golden  curls  flowing  around  her  pale  oval  face,  her  crimson  cloak  burned  like
flames as she gripped a crimson shield a nd  silver blade  marked by runes glowing bright red.
Egron Bluefox stood like an unmovable mountain,   two golden sword hilts above his
dark blue- armoured shoulders,  his beard was white flame with thick fluffy spikes across his
scalp, his eyes were rings of blue light around dark orbs that crackled with the menace of the
walking dead, and  many  more,  wielding weapons and  wea ring  armour that  shone  like  the
moon and starlight, they were an enigma to behold, beings traced  in  form by pure energies
that gave their  hollow flesh a temporary solidity.
They  were  spread  throughout  the  room  amongst  the  Alit‘aren  and  Ael  Tarael  who
guarded Elmira and Lydia, along with Guardians.  They were a small company, other than the
Heroes  there  were  only  a  handful  of  defenders,  as  if  the  rulers  were  caught  completely
unawares, and up till now their reinforcements were still delayed with the battles elsewhere.
―The  Souljhin  will  make  one  last  attempt  to  strike  at  us  here!‖  Tobin  shouted.
―They‘ll come at us through the library and also  from the hallway.‖
―Get to the centre of the room!‖ Terese ordered Adem and his friends. ―We‘ll form a
shield!‖
They  made  their  way  to  the  centre  of  the  room  with  Ael  Tarael,  Alit‘aren,  and
Guardians surrounding them. The two kings and two queens stood flanking them within the
protective barrier,  Tobin  wielding  his sword Stonebreaker that  glowed  bright emerald, and
Orion wielding his golden blade Tigerclaw. In his other arm, Orion held the Harp of Souls, a
golden instrument that fit neatly in the crook of  his arm; an angel spreading its wings for the
structure of the Harp.
Elmira and  Lydia  held balls of b lue  flame above their palms; they reminded him of
anxious felines as they stood poised for action.  Adem considered that it would be unwise for
anyone to  bring lightning from above or fire from the floor as the room would fall in around
them. This would be a battle for the Heroes of Will to prove themselves. Clouds still flowed
along the marble floor around the feet of the ghosts, and he saw again skulls within the grey
fog traced by silver light, as if other souls dwelt there, and he sensed a raw energy emanating
from that source also.
A tall  male  figure  stood wielding a broadsword of  burning  mauve  –  Ruin  Tamigol
was encased in armour of shadows;  coat and boots of  shimmering dark  blue  silk and leather,
t he sword was known as Hawkblade, and it was said the man had slain a thousand vampires
in one night at the Battle of Kahmel Durthrok, when he fought at the head of the Wolf Guard
protecting Queen  Elsalos.  Ruin emanated an emerald  fire as the blade  hovered at an angle,
the ghost fading into transparency with one breath, then standing solid as stone the next.
A green eyed female apparition  with red- tinged golden hair tied back in a thick braid
wielded a rapier blade o f amber light. Tamira Goldeneagle! –  holding a shield of blue and red
with  a  spread  winged  eagle  emblazoned  on  the  burning  steel  surface.  A  white  halo
surrounded Tamira‘s form, as the Golden Eagle sigil burned bright amber with the rise and
fall of  her breast. She was short, and slender, but there was extreme strength emanating from
the Hero of Will, as if she contained a torrent of the Power within her soul.
The clash of blades  was  heard  in the  hallway outside  followed by  the  roar  of  men
being cut down by Souljhin blades.  The  locked and barred double doors were kicked three
times from the outside until the iron hinges gave way and the doors collapsed with a heavy
thud! 
―The y  will  never  take  the Saviours!‖  Tamira  roared  with  fierce courage,  as a darkcloaked figure glided into the room —the cloak itself made from shadows as Adem detected
that  foul radiance of blight  in the room, pure evil  flowing  from the body of the Souljhin—
followed by two  more th at  moved  with a serpentine sway, they  hissed  like snak es ready to
strike as their jet black eyes stared from within dark cowls, seed shaped eyes reflecting the
light of burning blades.  The Souljhin each wielded a dark  long sword; glowing as if coated in
burning blood.
The presence of the creatures seemed to  wash over the entire  host of defenders  like
some  invisible  plague  infected  their  very  souls,  evil  incarnate  that  filled  the  air  with  a
foulness similar to being afflicted by a swarm of wasps with deadly stings, only this was an
invisible swarm, that soaked  their bones in a vileness that corroded courage and defiance.
Riol Darksbane stood  in armour of  white light and a cloak of burning  shadows  as he
roared,  ―They shall never have the Silver Stags!‖ Riol gripped a broad sword of dark steel .  He
hovered to Adem‘s  left  like some shadow phantom, eyes of deep blue that  glowed  like the
runes of his blade;  it seemed the  ghost would  not accept the draining  force of fear exuding
from these demons.
Guardians  drew heavy flows of  teron; then  released arrows of flame from  their  bows,
blasts of the Power impacting with a vibration in the air,  stunning   and delaying   the Souljhin
as  the  creatures  hissed  with  cold  menace.  The  Guardian  arrows  were  released  with  fluid
motion, as three men fired a half dozen each at the Souljhin in a blur of light, when suddenly
the  four  Alit‘aren and  three  Ael  Tarael  wielded  balls  burning blue, that they  hurled  at  the
chests  of  the  creatures,  each   blast  absorbed  by  the  dark- plated  armour,  as  electric  light
encased their shadowed forms, yet the Souljhin shook off the attacks as if they were barely
disturbed.
A female ghost shouted,  ―Protect the White Snow Fox !‖  
Another male roared,  ―The Sons must be preserved!‖
Cinderlin  cried  at  the  top  of  her  lungs,  ― We  shall  bathe  this  ground  in  Souljhin
blood ! ‖  The female spirit had hair that glimmered like snow, her eyes burning blue, and her
words  filled the air with a  force to dominate over  the evil radiance of the Souljhin.
Adem  held on  to the Power,  the river of  light  flooding  his  veins  with the slick of
rancid oil  that  made  him want  to empty  his  stomach. His  vision  was  heightened by  teron;
colours were brighter, shadows darker, and time moved as if in slow motion. He drew back
on the string of his Lukrorian Bow, allowing a surge of the Power to flow into t he arrow of
blue.  The  arrow  struck  a  tall  Souljhin  in  a  blast  that  was  swallowed  by  the  dark  armour
though the creature stumbled as a dark - coated Alit‘aren threw a bolt of lightning at its skull.
The bolt sent the Souljhin slinking back a step; as Riol   ru shed in to  grasp the creature
by the throat, driving  his blade  through  its  chest armour,  after  Cinderlin  had  hacked  off  its
sword  arm.  Riol  drew  the  blade  from  its  chest  to  swing  high  as  he  left  the  Souljhin  bent
forwards, bringing the sword down to decapitate the creature in a spray of dark blood!  The
Souljhin   thrashed  wildly  even  after  Riol  cut  its  head  from  its  shoulders,  the  skull  rolling
amongst  the  grey  fog  that  seemed  to  hungrily  absorb  flesh  and  bones.  This  move  greatly
angered the other Souljhin standing in the chamber, as their evil forces doubled in magnitude,
exuding corruption that would leave most men dribbling in a puddle of their own waste.
Adem  could  see  that  the  Heroes  of  Will  were  impervious  to  the  Souljhin  blades,
though they held back as  if their priority was to form a defensive shield around the Saviours.
Riol and Cinderlin quickly morphed back into position to guard Adem‘s flank, with a host of
other  Heroes  forming a  strong perimeter  around all  other warriors of  flesh and blood that
hoped to defend Adem and his friends.
—A loud crash filled the air behind Adem, who turned after shouts of warning. The
doors lay cleaved in two as four dark- cloaked figures fanned out into a line,  crimson burning
blades  dangling  from  black  gauntleted  claws.  The  tallest  drew  back  the  dark  cowl  that
covered its face to reveal pasty white skin, warts and boils, and a long beak - shaped nose. Its
pointed ears were similar to the  immortals only  larger, and  its eyes  were  large black seeds
filled with  menacing  hatred.  A  wave of  corruption   radiated  from  the six Souljhin standing
within  the  room  that  was  overwhelming  to  say  the  least!  It  felt  as  if  a  claw  of  ice  was
reaching into his chest to crush his beating heart, and his heart was beating rapidly under the
force of s uch evil.
Even with  teron  flooding his veins, Adem felt  greatly  weakened   under that force,   as
he  harnessed the Power to release another arrow, the shaft of light smashing  into the skull of
the Souljhin with its face bared.  The blast seemed barely felt by t he creature, as it hissed   in
irritation before   flowing  towards him with its sword raised.  Riol and Cinderlin  rushed in to
cross swords with the creature,  as the other Souljhin also moved  to infiltrate  the heart of the
defences.  Terese stood guard on Jean‘s  right flank, though her burning white blade was soon
engaged against a swift  moving enemy, as  Tamira and a  ghost  wielding a pale  green staff
struck at the creature on its flanks, battering it into submission before Terese hacked off its
skull.
Tobin was soon defending Carl and Wil, his blade of emerald light swiping with fluid
speed to  hack off Souljhin  limbs and skulls as  more began to  flow  in   through  the  library
doorway and front entrance.  Lydia and Elmira unleashed waves of Pixie Wardens that moved
like  lightning bolts to strike Souljhin in the chests and skulls, blasting the creatures with an
electric glow of the Power, and sometimes to devastating effect, as Souljhin fell to their knees
with  gaping  holes  in  their  breastplates,  burned  right  through!  Orion  seemed  less  skilled,
defending with one  hand to protect  his  wife—though Adem sensed  when Tobin and Orion
formed a link, as Emerald Lions and Golden Tigers morphed into view within the chamber,
dragging  Souljhin  to  their  knees  to  bite  off  skulls  or  shred   through  armour  with  burning
claws; the  hall suddenly  filled  with their deafening roars—as chaos reigned with  lightning
and fire flying  from the  fists of every Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael. Guardians unleashed a blur of
flaming arrows as more Souljhin flowed in from both sides  –  there were sixteen of them  still
standing   –  their red swords clashing with t he blades of the Heroes of Will as bright energies
battered their dark armour and set their shadow cloaks alight.
Adem cased his bow and drew his sword, as  he h eard Jean cry, ―Tanriel!‖
Red- glowing spears flew outwards in all directions to skewer the dark armour of the
Souljhin; red lightning erupted and spider webbed across their flesh to reduce the creatures to
skeletons of red flames. Ki’mera orbs floated towards Jean as the burning skeletons  collapsed
to their knees and exploded.
Adem cried, ―Arawn!‖
Eight  fully  grown  male  lions  appeared  in  a  circle  around  the  defences,  pushing
Souljhin  to the  floor and biting off  their skulls. Adem was  half  in shock at the  size of  the
roaring beasts with their golden brown coats of fur and thick dark manes. Arawn‘s cloak of
shadows  rose  from  the  forms  of  two  lions,  his  broadsword  of  red  flames  slicing  Souljhin
heads from shoulders.
More  Souljhin  rushed  into  the  room  from  both  doorways;  twenty - five,  then  thirty,
then a swarm of dark- cloaked figures that threatened to draw the light from t he room. Lions
roared, and Flame Spears flew around the room as the two Battle Angels began to Link. Wil
shouted, ―Eledisren‖ as Carl cried,  ―Math Mathonwy!‖
Crows  filled  the room, squawking and pecking at  large dark Souljhin eyes.  Hounds
with dark- furred coats like giant wolves appeared, forcing Souljhin to the ground, biting off
skulls, and tearing through armour with their claws.  It was a s izable force of Lions, Hounds
and  Tigers  flowing through  the enemy  ranks,  filling the chamber with deafening roars and
howls as they took down Souljhin like helpless victims, razor sharp claws shredding through
armour; Elemental Fires incinerating flesh and bone in bright burning colours.
The dark  form of  Dis Pater and Math Mathonwy‘s  figure of  light took shape as the
four  Battle  Angels  formed  a  Link.  There  was  no  lightning  or  tornado  this  time;  only  an
increase in the speed an d ferocity of attacks from the Crows, Lions, and Hounds with Tanriel
hovering  above  th e  battle,  throwing  dozens  more  Flame  S pears  that  stripped  flesh  from
Souljhin  bones.  The  presence  of  so  many  huge  Spirit  Wardens  was  intimidating  even  for
those they were protecting, as the beasts of  magic seemed to inspire true fear in the hearts of
their  enemies,  though  they  did  not  relent  in  their  aims  to  bring  harm  to  the  Sons  and
Daughter, as they continued to pour into the chamber in waves, despite so many being ripped
apart or melted into slag a nd burnt to ashes.
The three male Battle Angels secured the defences on three sides, the swing of golden
axe, crimson spear and flaming blade almost spanned the width of each section of the triangle
of their defences, hacking through Souljhin  in sprays of  dark blood, severing  limbs, slicing
torsos in half and sending skulls flying as Math, Arawn and Eledisren seemed to revel in the
madness of their unrelenting carnage.
Dis Pater split a Souljhin skull, slicing down  in the  form of Crescent Moon, before
swinging sideways to cut straight through the chest of two more, as Math swung to decapitate
three  Souljhin  in  a  dark  spray,  Arawn  hacked  off  the  sword  arms  of  two,  with  the  form
known as Double Crescent, then swung through to cleave off their skulls before cutting down
three  more with a savage  hack and slash through chests and  torsos, and this  is  what Adem
saw in the seconds he managed to look around while Flame Spears continued to fly, burning
flesh from bone as bodies collapsed; exploding into dust!
Yet  the  flow  of  Souljhin  continued  to  pour  into  the  chamber  with  a  dominant
vehemence to overwhelm their defences, and Hounds and Lions moved through their ranks in
a  wild  display  of  bloodthirsty  slaughter,  shredding  through  breastplates  like  tinfoil,  black
blood spurting from the wounds before the beasts chewed faces off or just ate entire skulls in
savage horrid gulps!
A murder of Crows punched at individual Souljhin like some giant black fist to smash
the  creatures  into  the  shelved  walls,  blasting  bodies  apart  on  impact.  Others  pecked  out
eyeballs in bloodied snapping beaks or clawed at faces to distract the overwhelming flow of
enemies, but despite this, Adem could see they would not have survived if not for the  Heroes
of Will; still  holding  off the  remaining Souljhin that slunk  through the paths of  the Battle
Angels‘ attacks.
The burning blades of Heroes surrounded Adem and his companions in a blurring of
rapid slashes, clashing  with Souljhin blades while other  Heroes  used that  moment to sever
skulls and cut o ff sword arms, or hands or even cut them down at the knees, or ankle slashes,
followed by frantic downwards stabbing motions when the creatures finally fell, anything to
defeat the surging  masses, hacking  with such speed and  force that the  fog below was  fe d a
hundred times over with congealed chunks of pale demon flesh.
Orion held the Harp of Souls to pluck the three strings again . . . the sound seemed to
shake the walls, clear, sharp notes that  resonated over the barking of Hounds and the roaring
of Lions.  A  great  roar  was  heard  –   the Souljhin cringing  at  the sound  –  the cries of dead
souls, though it was filled with valour.
Dozens  more  figures  of  light  began  to  appear  around  Adem  and  his  friends,  fifty,
eighty, over a hundred Heroes of Will! Taebrel Goldensabre was there with Arig Flamebow –
the strings of the Harp calling them back to its source  – along with other Heroes of Legend.
Tron  Ironfist  was  there  in  his crimson cloak  wielding an axe of blue  flames,  along
with Abigail Tormeidhellin  –  with large  blue eyes and a thick dark braid  –  in glowing white
plated armour with a bow of burning aqua.
Rodin Cloudwalker wore a  silver crown, and a  gown of emerald  light worked with
golden  runes;  wielding  bolts  of  lightning  hurled  from  a  spear  of  blue  fire;  tearin g  gaping
holes through Souljhin armour.  Dark of  hair  and eyes  with a true Nordic  face and  hooked
nose like an eagle‘s beak, the First King roared with outrage as he unleashed his fury upon
the demon scourge.  Adem knew them all,  their  names  and their  histor ies,  the battles  they
won, how they lived, and how they had died.
Arawn told him everything in a flood of images – some that formed names and words
– as his gaze passed over their ghostly forms, emerald eyed  Imogen Herochain, her blue  rune
marked  blade slashing at Souljhin with impos sible speeds, Maerian Snowstorm;   silver spear
slicing through demon armour and  flesh,  Rihon  Redhawk, cloak of blood red  with a black
mask worked with silver, a blurring of silver arrows flying from his bow of white fire.
Then  suddenly something else changed, as arms  and  hands  formed of  the  grey  fog
began to rise up out of the floating haze below, dragging Souljhin victims down to feed the
hungry  souls  of  countless  other  dead,  as  a  wailing  moan  filled  the  air,  like  some  zombie
apocalypse, as the fog began to rise and the screams of Souljhin being ripped apart filled the
air, and even the Lions, Tigers, Crows and Hounds seemed confused  in those clouds that
seemed to block out anything from view even a few feet ahead.
Dis  Pater  reached  behind  to  grasp  a  slinking  Souljhin  that  had  slipped  past  his
defences, hurling the creature to the floor as he placed his double bladed axe head against its
neck, pushing down on the back of the blade with one foot—as if digging with a shovel—as
the  Souljhin skull was cut free after a crunching sound, dark blood feeding the grey mist that
rose up around the fallen body like the jaws of a famished beast.
Math Mathonwy skewered  two assassins with  the Hellfire Spear—right through the
chest—then whipped t he crimson blade across to decapitate another three with Corn Harvest,
as Arawn brought his blade down on an angle to hack through chest and torso of three more
Souljhin that collapsed with burning wounds through their armour and flesh, as Hounds and
Lions  picked  off  the  outsiders,  pouncing  to  crush  the  demon- men  under  heavy  paws,
dragging their claws to shred flesh and bone as waves of burning crust appeared within the
wounds.
Egron Bluefox and the Battleaxe Brothers had also guarded Carl and Wil on their  left
flank, and the warriors were unrelenting in their displays of magic and mastery of weapons,
cutting down dozens of Souljhin  in a  matter of seconds as  it seemed as  if  their swarming
masses  would  never  cease.  Rune  marked  blades,  shining  armour  and  cloaks  of  shadow
surrounded the Sons and Daughter and their small band of defenders, as the Heroes held off
the  remaining  assault  with  blades  whirling  to  create  a  glowing  halo  of  light  and  energy,
Elemental  Magic  forming a shield out of the exertion of  long dead warriors that  would  not
give up the lives of Adem, Jean, Carl and Wil.
It seemed the hungry mist had also slowed down the attack, as the flow of Souljhin
steadily  decreased—yet  for  a  time  Adem  watched  in  awe  as  Riol  and  Cinderlin  morphed
through the  fog ,  their blades of  light burning  like  viperous steel  to  hack down enemies  in
rapid motion, as Breeanna fired her golden arrows with fluid speed, blasting skulls apart in
dark sprays as other Heroes moved through the daunted enemy ranks to cut them down with
phantom  blades;  ki’mera  orbs  flickered  in  the  haze,  feeding  the  Heroes  and  their  deadly
fog —until  it  was declared safe within the chamber, after the remaining skulking creatures
were ripped apart by Angels and Heroes. Many times Adem had watched those dark cloaked
shadows approaching through the rising grey mist, only to be pulled down by Hound or Lion
and torn to shreds and bleeding chunks, or taken victim by a floating apparition that slit their
throats with glowing steel, as Tanriel‘s Spears punched thr ough breastplates to set shadowed
figures alight with crackling red bolts of energy; vaporizing flesh and blood!
The battle was still  not over  however, and after a  short rest, the defenders became
hunters, as they  moved  through  the  halls  in search of any S ouljhin remaining and causing
havoc within the palace walls.  
The  Battle  Angels returned  to  their Resting Points, and  Adem,  Jean, Carl, and Wil
joined  the  search  with  Alit‘aren,  Ael  Tarael  and  Guardians  joining  their  ranks  as  they
progressed  throughout  the  palace.  Only  a  dozen  or  more  Souljhin  were  found  and  those
retreated into the shadows in fear of the Heroes of Will.
Adem did not come face to face with that very tall Souljhin during their search, and
he  was  more  than  glad  of  it,  but  he  would  need  to  find  out  what  that  particular  one  was
named, if it was known. The image of the creature seen in his mind and the memory of evil
radiance he had felt was enough to bring shivers to his bones.
There  were  heavy  casualties  however    over  a  hundred  Guardians,  two  hundred
soldiers, and eighty  guards poisoned by the Souljhin blades that brought a swift death. The
bodies became swollen and black –  like an entire body bruise – as the poison flowed through
the veins of those cut by the tainted blades.   Adem felt sickened by those sights, and his heart
bled to know that such noble, wise and kind warriors of immortal blood had given their souls
to  protect  three  men  and  one  woman,  who  up  till  now  still  had  no  idea  how  they  were
expected to win this battle of good versus evil.
The immortal kings and queens were also there, and they viewed every fatality with
the sorrow that only a ruler   could feel the full burden of, as Orion and Tobin often knelt to
close  the  eyelids  of  those  that  still  had  faces  glaring  in  defiance,  while  L ydia  and  Elmira
walked with palms in prayer position, or made other holy signs as if to ward off evil and give
credence for their sacrifice.
―So many brave souls, lost!‖ Elmira said when close to tears.
―They died for a great cause,‖ Tobin boomed in reply,   though there was deep sorrow
to his tones also.
―We  will  sing  songs  of  praise  at  their  funeral  pyres,‖  Lydia  said,  raising  a
handkerchief to blot a tear falling from her left eye. ―Their sacrifice shall not be forgotten.‖
―I will arrange sufficient compensation for their families,‖ Tobin said, ―to ensure their
loved ones will not starve, though their sorrow will last an eternity.‖
The Heroes of Will returned to the Harp when Tobin decided the attack  had ended.
Rodin  Cloudwalker  assured  them  they  were  gladdened  to  fight  to  protect  the  lives  of  the
Saviours, before their forms were consumed by the golden Harp in a swirl of clouds and fire.
All except for two, Teres e Silverblade and Arig Flamebow remained!
Terese‘s armour and Arig‘s silk robe had lost most o f its shine, simply reflecting light
now rather than emanating it; however, their enchanted weapons still glowed brightly.
―What has happened to us?‖ Terese asked bluntly, her mouth hanging open.
The two kings and queens looked at each another with concerned expressions before
Elmira  suggested,  ―Perhaps  you  have  been  released  from  the  Hero  Chain  .  .  .  to  serve  as
bodyguards to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. It would be a great honour, would
it not?‖
―Released?‖  Terese  said  in  confusion.  ―We  ha ve  always  been  bound  to  the  Hero
Chain, for every life we have lived. What will become of us now that we are free?‖
―It  may  have been the work of the Battle  Angels,‖  Tobin said  musingly.  ―Perhaps
their Link in the Power has severed you from  the  Shield of F ire. Perhaps it is a new Chain
that was forged to return you both to living flesh.‖
―But  if  we are now flesh and bone,‖ Arig said doubtfully, ―then s urely we  would have
served a  greater purpose being bound to the Harp of Souls.‖
―Perhaps  the  Great  Angels  saw  greater  use  for  you  here,  with  us,‖  Lydia  said
soothingly. ―We have need of great battle strategists, you were known as a great general in
your  lifetime,  Arig  Reidenhold.  You  are  also  known  as  a  great  battle  tactician,  Terese
Marheildon. You will be of great value to us.‖
***
The bodies of the dead were placed on  wood piles—the  following evening —that  filled the
centre of the Courtyard to the Royal Stables, with the palace walls of Nordhel rising to the
west  side,  and  castle  walls  surrounding  the  court yard  that  was  well  lit  with  lanterns  all
around. The dead were set alight via the Power, harnessed by Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael—that
was  said  to  purify  the  infected  flesh  and  reduce  the  noxious  stench  normal  flames  would
allow—with a  large  gathering of  wielders,  Guardians and other  soldiers and palace  guards
paying tribute to their sacrifice, and a feeling of great woe was felt by all who were present,
at the tragic loss of such worthy warriors.
Carl‘s  heart was burning with pain at the beautiful Elven Songs  that  filled the night
air, in ancient Nordic, Torvellen, Dremelden and Ruhalden Tongue, each of the Four Clans
took  their  turn  to  sing  their  songs  of  praise,  and  some  songs  were  sung  together,  with  a
mixture of male and female voices, as well as a combina tion of the different languages, while
an orchestra of over one  hundred played  instruments to guide and control  their rhythm and
melody.
Carl had felt quite hopeless in that battle, perhaps too afraid to wield the Power in an
attempt to do more, though he knew it was also because he was certain he still lacked enough
strength  in  teron  to  have  lent any  real assistance against an army of Souljhin, and  he  had
known during those desperate moments that his Battle Angel was the only real help he could
provide.
He  stood in Alit‘aren black with a straight back and eyes gazing at the burning pyres
with a deep sorrow and mourning, as he believed he felt the loss of these lives more severely
than Adem, who stood at his right side with a confused expression, as if his d aily Healing had
not been enough to rid him of his symptoms of latent madness.
Jean also  wept, as did  Lydia and  Elmira by  her side, as the Queen of Nordhel and
Tarvel  joined  in  the singing, as did  their  husbands, though the Sons and Daughter  simply
listened,  as  if  fearing  their  voices  may  stain  the  grandeur  and  divinity  of  such  pure  and
dignified songs, despite their capacity to know the words if only requested from their Battle
Angels, who also provided many interpretations of the ancient Tongues.
The  songs  were  derived  from  various  Ages,  some  from  the  Age  of  Heroes,  also
known as the Age of  Legends, and these were chosen to  honour the sacrifice of these  men
that  had given their  lives, by singing of the days of the Great Heroes of Old,  including  the
Starborn  Alliance  of  the  Age  of  Heroes,  of  whom  many  of  the  ghosts  that  had  been
summoned  from the Harp of Odin  were once  members, Ruin, Riol, Cinderlin, even Terese
and  Arig  in  one  of  their  many  reincarnations  had  been  counted  amongst  the  Alliance,
warriors of extraordinary abilities, responsible for the many wonders of that Age.
The two former ghosts also stood close by, though Arig still had not revealed his face
beneath  that  shining  rune  marked  mask,  and  Terese‘s  face  was  controlled  to  hide  any
emotion, altho ugh Carl believed the woman was capable of true compassion, and that she too
must have felt the tragedy of this event. They also joined in for many of the songs, though
when the Songs of the Starborn Alliance were sung, they remained silent, and Carl belie ved it
was because  these songs brought  memories that would reveal their emotions too deeply,  if
they allowed their voices to be heard.
Other songs were meant to be a guiding force to light the way to the High Realm, so
that no souls would remain lost in th e Middle Realm, or suffer the fate of being consumed by
the Underworld, and Carl felt these songs were the most moving, heartbreaking laments that
stirred the soul into moments of woe or bliss, but also great compassion for the loss of such
brave warriors.  These songs were sung by each of the Four Clans, but each clan taking part in
different  stages of  the  tribute, and a  harmonizing of  male and  female  singers that brought
colourful images to his mind, reminding him of his own mortality, and the duty he was  yet to
fulfil.
Despite  the  courtyard  being  well  lit,  there  was  a  definite  tension  amongst  all  who
were gathered also, as if everyone was on edge about the possibility of a second strike by the
Shadow, especially  now  while  they  were deep  in  mourning. Guardians and  Alit‘aren eyes
darted left and right as if expecting Souljhin to appear at any moment, and Ael Tarael wore
faces of sorrow mixed with evident concern over the same fears, for this attack had seemed
so unlike anything these people had ever experienced before.
Rooms  were  kept  well  lit  even  when  sleeping  in  the  case  of  immortals,  although
mortals  usually  found  it  impossible to sleep  this  way, and so rooms  had been darkened  at
night within  the palace of Nordhel  and all the  major cities since the Age of  the First Men,
also known as the  Age of Mortals,  yet there  were  few  events on  record  like the previous
night, when the Shadow had thrown such a powerful fist against them, and Carl feared it was
because  the  Dark  One  had  never  been  more  motivated,  until  the   arrival  of  the  Sons  and
Daughter, who he evidently had chosen to destroy rather than turn.
If  in death Carl and  his  Brothers  were  forced  to serve  the Dark  Lord,  he could see
from witnessing the spirits of the Heroes of Will, that the souls of the Sons cou ld still bring
great harm to these people and their world. It was perhaps for this reason that the Dark One
had decided the Sons would still adequately serve him, as ghosts.
Carl and Wil grew in their abilities, practicing and learning many of the same  magic
techniques  as Adem.  Tohver Silgurd taught Carl most often, but also Wil much of the time
also. Today both Carl and Wil were learning the weaves to increase the enchantment of their
weapons, seated  in a  sort of small  library chamber  with an open  firepla ce of black  marble
worked into shapes like sea horses and fish writhing in tumultuous seas at the base and dark
clouds with sea birds flying at the top, yet, where the marble was closest to the flames, the
fish took forms of demons, and the birds morphed into angels.
Tohver spoke in the deep tones typical of all Nordic males, his grey tinged moustache
and fluffy spiked white beard fit well on his muscular jaw and neckline, dressed in Alit‘aren
black today as  he  was  most days, with  the Lion, Wolf and  Dragon  pins on  his  high black
collar.  ―You  must  allow  teron  to  bleed  into  your  spear,  Carl  Wilder,‖  the  man  said  in
instructing tones, a dutiful teacher with open warmth to his tones for his pupils, ―likewise for
you, Wil Martyr,‖ the man always addressing them by their full names, an immortal habit that
Carl  was  not  yet  certain  whether  he  found  endearing  or  ridiculous,  but  they  all  did  it!
―Harness the Power like a flood of water soaking into your bones, as you siphon that energy
from your spirit to weave the tiny flows into the spear and axe, like my old nanna would do
with  her  knitting  needles  to  create  a  fine  sweater  for  my  younglings,  you  must  craft  the
weaves to guide and shape your desired outcome within the enchantment!‖ He finished with
extremely optimist ic and perhaps boisterous  tones, as  if this  were a  very  important  matter;
that also brought him some state of personal delight to witness.
―I‘m having some difficulty, Master Tohver,‖ Carl admitted, as he fumbled with the
weaves  without a significant  understanding of  how  he was supposed  to craft them, despite
several instructions from both Tohver and also Math Mathonwy via the  kigare.
―I  am  also  having  a  bit  of  trouble,‖  Wil  admitted  glumly,  and  Carl  glanced  at  the
weaves  his  friend  was creating to  note  that Carl at  least  had a  more substantial  grip on the
concept, yet they both lacked true insight into what they were expected to achieve. When he
voiced these  thoughts,  Tohver  said,  ―There  are  many options open  to  you both, as I  have
already explained. You ma y wish to increase the capacity for destruction via  teron, making
the spear a more powerful weapon, or you could choose to increase the relationship between
yourself  and the spear to  the benefit of  greater endurance and dexterity when  wielding  for
long  per iods  of  time,  and  this  would  provide  similar  abilities  to  the  gift  harnessed  by  all
disciplined Guardians.
―Another option  would be  to  increase  the potential  for creating Healing spells and
other rejuvenation  magic  via  your  spear or axe, and  this  would be  achieved with  the third
variation of weaves I demonstrated earlier.
―So which of these three do you wish to achieve first and foremost, Carl Wilder?‖
Carl  thought  about  that  for  some  time  before  he  replied,  ―It  would  seem  most
important to be better equipp ed to cause damage to our enemies, I suppose, but would it not
also be just as vital to increase my ability to perform Healing upon my fellow wielders and
warriors via teron?‖
Tohver‘s bushy grey eyebrows rose in surprise as he gazed at Carl with wonder and
apparent  fondness as  he said,  ―Wise  words,  my pupil,  for  you speak of the conundrum all
wielders face when they must choose which ways to craft their enchanted weaponry. Do we
make ourselves better warriors, capable of destruction and might, or do we foc us on Healing
spells, or rejuvenation? But remember, there are a myriad of other spells and incantations that
can be improved with different weapon enchantments, and it is up to you to choose the most
vital, and beneficial, not just for you but for all you  hope to protect, if you are noble enough
to  see  that  as  your  responsibility!‖  Again  he  finished  in  heightened  tones  of  restrained
excitement.
―So what do  we choose?‖ Wil asked in some state of confusion and bewilderment.
At  this question  Tohver did  not appear so  fond or  appreciative, but  he  lowered  his
brows  to speak  with  some sympathy  as  he replied,  ―Wil  Martyr,  you are perhaps  my  least
favourite pupil, for you have just now failed to even understand what I have told you quite
clearly! 
―The choice  is  you rs entirely, Wil  Martyr; but choose with careful consideration of
the benefits and the disadvantages, for  ki’mera  is a precious source of magic, and difficult to
procure, for it is only obtained when defeating demons.
―So I ask you again, which of these three that I have instructed you to focus on today,
do you choose, with the hope that it will be of greatest benefit for the future?‖
―I choose to improve Healing capacity,‖ Carl said, as Wil stared at his axe and then at
his teacher again with greater appre hension.
―Well done, Carl Wilder,‖ Tohver practically beamed with pleasure. ―You are a much
faster learner, and I say that this choice suits what I have learnt of your personality, and your
beliefs.‖ Carl felt a little awkward from all the praise, as he sa w it was doing no good for Wil.
―I  will choose to  improve the Power of Destruction,‖ Wil said  finally.  ―It best suits
my personality.‖ He continued the weaves with a somewhat satisfied grin.
―If  you  say  so,  Wil  Martyr,  so  long  as  you  have  learnt  to  make  the  decision  for
yourself, and for that I give you praise also. Well done!‖
Carl began to wonder whether his over enthusiastic finishes were a sign that Tohver
was  also  becoming  susceptible  to  the  taint  on  teron.  Madness  appeared  in  many  forms,
though  he did  not know the  man before the Power became tainted, so  he did  not  have that
knowledge to compare it with the man‘s current behaviour.
As a trained scientist, Carl had some basic knowledge of psychology, and he used this
as  a  daily  focus  of  meditating  upon  the  behaviours  of  all  male  wielders  he  met,  but  his
primary  focus  was  always  upon  Adem,  and  how  long  he  could  remain  reasonably  sane
without his daily medication.
Carl  and  Wil  shared  emotions  of  joy  and  pain  while  holding  teron  in  their  veins,
revitalizing  lightning  and  corrupt  viscous  filth  flowed  through  each  of  them  while  they
worked the weaves into their desired patterns, each one working in very different forms, yet
the required hold on the Power brought equal sensations of pure pleasure and sheer revu lsion.
Carl saw a beam of light like an aura around his friend while working the weaves, as
well as the colourful filaments of energy that flowed from Wil‘s hands and body to enter the
enchanted axe, that glowed bright amber with a halo of resonance of its own that was beyond
its  normal  shine.  Wil  would  see  the  same  aura  of  blue - white  light  around  Carl,  as  Carl
returned his focus to his own weaves of  teron that flowed from his fingers, arms and chest in
swirling waves of colour shining with vast intensity  as they entered the spear, that also shone
bright crimson, as  he  felt  the bond between  himself and the weapon  increasing, and at the
same time he sensed his own capacity for Healing spells improving by a significant margin.
The assembly of the weaves were  mostly guided by Math Mathonwy now, though his
Battle Angel admitted he was never known for being exceptional with Healing spells. Math
was a Spirit Warden of Chaos and Bloodshed, his Hellfire Spear and his Hounds of Hell were
unrelenting  destruction,  sava ge  but  disciplined  in  the  Art  of  War.  This  had  been  a  great
advantage to Carl in the two battles he had already faced, yet Carl felt assured that his own
real purpose here was to learn to become a great Magician of Healing.
His ultimate desire and aim would be to learn a fast and effective way to reverse the
effects of being cut by those tainted Souljhin and Shadow Men blades, though up till now the
search  for such cures  had  never been considered  worth the risk of  losing  more  lives  in  the
heat of battle. 
The  fact  that  Elemental  Fire  could  be  used  to  purify  the  dead  was  a  vital  clue  he
thought, and he felt that if he could discover a cure, and teach it to others, it would bring hope
and courage at times when these people so often faced terrible fear and doub t.
***
In  the  winter  weeks  and  months  that  followed,  Terese  and  Arig  did  prove  themselves
valuable at teaching Adem and his friends about battle strategies and weapons tactics. Terese
worked  with Jean,  teaching  her to  wield the blade  with speed and  skill.  Arig worked with
Adem, Carl, and Wil sharing his knowledge of the ancient world of battle. Arig knew much
that Arawn had seemingly overlooked in his teachings, and Adem consumed the information
as  if  he were starving  for  it.  There  were  no  more  attacks on   Nordhel during those  winter
months, and the Saviours spent every day training with their weapons and learning to wield
the Power.
Adem fell more deeply in love with Jean though she seemed distant and focused on
her training as the winter months progressed.
During  the  first  week  of  heavy  snow,  Adem  waited  for  Jean  on  the  balcony  each
night, but she never came. When he passed her in the hallways the following week, she told
him, ―I was busy,‖ quite flatly; then proceeded past him with her nose in the air. Ad em tried
to tell himself that it was nothing to be concerned about, but those moments he shared with
Jean were the few times each day that he was able to see her.
His heart began to ache for her soft touch and warm kisses; her big blue eyes staring
into  his, that  feeling of belonging to someone, a  life  with  meaning. She  was  younger  than
him,  four  years  younger to be exact, but  he was certain that was  not what had changed  her
attitude. He wondered  if  it was Terese Silverblade  filling  her  mind with stories a bout  great
warrior women who forgot to ward off a man‘s affections and subsequently found themselves
with child. That seemed the most likely once he had the idea in his mind, though he was not
certain it was  the reason she had removed herself from his life .
Elmira and  Lydia  were concerned about their relationship, though  they did  not ban
them  from seeing one another. This  was different, someone  had changed  her  thoughts;  her
altered behaviour was the result.
Later that week as he became desperate, he confro nted her when they were alone in a
corridor with red- coated guards standing at either end of the hall. He pulled her to an alcove
between two polished oak tables with bright  flowers  in porcelain  vases as  he asked, ―What
has changed between  us? Don‘t you  lo ve  me anymore?‖ Jean  glared at him with  her ocean
blue eyes before she replied, ―I still love you, Adem. I just . . . don‘t know that we should be
spending  so  much  time  together.  Terese  says  it  will  interfere  with  my  training,  my
concentration is lacking,  and she says it‘s your fault.‖ Adem sighed at her confession before
calmly saying, ―So it  is  Terese who has changed your thinking.‖
Then he thought to himself,  I knew it!
―Terese  wants  me  to be  the  greatest  Blademaiden  in  the  history of Kismeria,‖ Jean
said sullenly. ―I can‘t think straight when I‘m thinking of you, Adem. It‘s too much emotion.
I‘m just a young woman too! Terese says I‘m too young for a serious relationship.‖  
She started to pout at the end with arms crossed under her breasts. She wore a  red silk
blouse and short skirt with  golden silk trousers and crimson  leather boots. With her golden
braid shining in the lantern light, she looked enchanted.
―We come from a very different time and place to these people, Jean,‖ Adem said in an
almost lec turing tone. ―Especially Terese, she‘s older than . . . Queen Cleopatra! Please just
tell  me you  will  meet  me on the balcony tonight. I have to see  you. I need you, Jean.‖ He
leaned forward to kiss her lips, but she pushed him away as she began to take str ides down
the hall towards one of the guards, the green - eyed immortal raising a pointed brow at Adem‘s
failed attempt.
―If you want to see me, you will have to wait for me, Adem Highlander!‖ Jean said
smartly over her shoulder. ―I have so much on my mind r ight now. I just don‘t have the time.
I‘m  sorry.‖  Then she was  taking  great strides  to reach the protective barrier of  the armed
guard. Tallis Rogrothar was his name; the way he eyed Jean in her tight trousers made Adem
wonder  if  immortals sometimes  mated  with  mortals.  That was something  he would  need to
discuss with Tobin in their next meeting.
―I  understand,  Jean,‖  he  said  softly  as  she  passed  out  of  sight.  ―I‘m  sorry  too  for
confusing  you.‖ She stepped back  into the  hallway to peer at him around the slee ve of the
immortal guard.
―Frustrating me is how I would put it,‖ she said with a sly grin with her fingers wound
around  the  guard‘s  elbow.  Tallis  wore  an  expression  that  suggested  he  wished  he  were
somewhere  else  at  that  moment  –  he  actually  began  to  blus h!  Immortals  were  modest
creatures.  ―Time should be no burden to  you, Adem,‖ Jean said  in soft but  lecturing  tones.
―After all, we have all the time in the world.‖ With that, she smiled and ducked behind Tallis
again to disappear down the hall.
Adem  stood  there  feeling  alone  with  his  thoughts  until  Tallis  offered,  ―Perhaps
flowers before kisses  next  time,  Adem Highlander.‖  This  was  Adem‘s  turn to blush, with
guilt and  shame. Though,  he  grinned at the tall  golden- haired  immortal before  he replied,
―Thank you , Tallis. That is sound advice. Forgive my ignorance. It has been many years since
I last tried to kiss a woman.‖ Then he realised how stupid he would sound saying that to an
immortal. He had had it explained to him that immortals usually only ever found o ne partner
in their lifetime, and Tallis probably had not even found his future wife yet, though the man
still had the sense to recommend flowers!
As if the guard had read his thoughts, Tallis said, ―My mother always told me, ‗Make
a pathway of rose petals to lead your lady love to your heart.‘ That was her advice in regard
to taming a woman with fire in her heart. Jean Fairsythe has a heart that burns like the sun.‖
He gave a sheepish grin at the last. Adem was beginning to be more than a little concerned
about Tallis‘s apparent admiration of Jean.
He thought to himself in frustration; I really must speak with King Tobin!
Later  that  day,  he  sat  at  lunch  with  Carl  and  Wil  with  Guardians  and  Alit‘aren
standing  along  the  walls to  guard  the room. Meals  were a lways provided  with just a  little
more than they would be willing to eat. Adem had been disgusted at the extravagance of the
feasts provided to  them  in their  first  weeks at Nordhel, and  he  had  insisted that the cooks
cater for a much smaller stomach. The result was plates of sliced meat, breads, and cheeses
that satisfied their hunger with little going to waste.  
King  Tobin  insisted anything they did  not eat during a  feast was  shared among the
servants and that ‗the servants looked forward to eating what wa s left over.‘ Adem would not
have  it  however.  He  felt  that  if  they  prepared  less,  there  would  be  more  leftover  for  the
servants, though Tobin always disagreed with his logic.
―What are you worried over?‖ Carl asked Adem sullenly. ―I have not seen my wife i n
over three months! If she had perceived those three months as more than a few nanoseconds,
she  would be worried out of her wits  for  me by  now! I sincerely  hope  this time difference
theory of King Orion‘s  is accurate. Otherwise,  there  will be a search par ty out  for  us,  you
mark my words.‖ Adem sat brooding over the fact that Jean was avoiding him; he had related
this fact to his friends more often than he cared to think.
―Stop worrying about the time differences,‖ Adem said finally. ―If Orion is anywhere
n ear accurate  in  his theory,  there will be  no search party. We  need  to concentrate on our
training.  Tohver  says  you  are  both  improving  in  your  ability  to  wield,  though  he  fears
something is blocking your true potentials.‖
Tohver Silgurd was one of the Alit ‘aren who taught Carl and Wil to use the Power as
a weapon. They had also all learnt to perform Healing to some degree.
Adem still obtained his Healing every day from Lira Tolnock or one of the other Ael
Tarael to reduce his symptoms. The Sickness, they sa id, was growing stronger in his mind as
a result of wielding  the tainted Power. Adem suspected  it  was also the  fact that he  had  not
had his medication in over three months. Carl and Wil still refused any Healing though Lira
insisted they would require it in the months and years that followed. ―The taint will drive you
into madness,‖ she would tell them, ―and there is no way to guard against it.‖
Adem  had  begun  to  notice  slight  changes  in  his  own  behaviour,  mood  swings,
nervousness, anxiety, and stress. Eac h morning he checked his eyes in the washstand mirror
to see if the Darkness was returning to his mind. He noticed slight changes in his friends also;
they often seemed distracted in their thoughts, brooding or discontent. He began to worry for
them all.
Arig Flamebow told them he feared the taint would infect them  all  sooner than later,
and he referred to the entire male population of wielders.
―Perhaps I  was sent  here  to  monitor  these changes,‖ Arig  mused.  ―There  has  never
been anything like the taint in  any of my memories though there may be information I hold
that could help us find a way to avoid its affects.‖
―What about a cure?‖ Carl asked.
―That is possible.‖ Arig considered. ―Though the trick would be finding out whether it
is you  three  who  must be  cured to cleanse the Power, or whether  the Power  itself  must be
cured.  I  will  need  more  time  to  work  on  this  theory.  I  will  dedicate  my  spare  hours  to
researching the Royal Libraries.‖
Adem was certain the former ghost went for days without sleep; he wond ered how he
would  find  ‗spare  hours.‘ Arig  had worn the  mask  for days before revealing  his  handsome
face of  large dark eyes, tanned skin, and dark  hair tied  with a crimson ring. He was of the
Torvellen clan of immortals in his former life as Arig Reidenhold. He revealed to Adem that
in another life he was of the Nordic clan. Kierel Redbow was his name in that Age; his wife
had died at the hands of a Souljhin during the Rokhal Wars. Rokhal were ten- feet - tall beasts
with skulls of rams or bulls, muscular huma noid arms and torsos with thick shaggy legs and
hoofed feet, usually in dark spiked armour and wielding axes, tridents or scythe - shaped black
blades.
Arig explained that a Rokhal  would  have just slain  his  wife, but Souljhin  liked to
partake in the pleasures of a woman before they passed them to the Rokhal cook pots. Adem
felt a deep sorrow  for  Arig‘s  memories of past  lives. It  must  have been a  heavy burden to
remember so much pain.
The  day  after  seeing  Jean  in  the  hallway,  Adem  was  confronted  by  Terese
Silverblade.  He  heard  her  high  heels clipping  the  marble  floor as  she stalked  towards  him
with fire in her eyes.
―Adem Highlander!‖ she said in tones that reminded him of his childhood when his
mother would seize him by the ear for some measure of strife. He  turned to stand with a stiff
back, holding out his chest to emphasize that he  was  one of the Chosen. Terese met his gaze
with a burning  fury as she explained  in careful tones,  ―You will cease  your pursuit of Jean
Fairsythe immediately. You will not pull her into corners to attempt to kiss her. You will not
fool with  her  fragile  mind  with  your  words of  love and devotion.  And  you will  no  longer
meet with her on moonlit balconies . . . do you understand?‖
Her tone at the last promised a Hero‘s wrath if her de mands were not followed to the
letter. She wore an emerald silk coat that hung to her hips embroidered with golden flowers,
baggy blue woollen trousers and knee- high green leather boots, one hand resting on the hilt of
her enchanted blade hanging from her sword belt. She was of the Nordic clan of immortals in
her previous life, large dark eyes and pointed brows, strikingly beautiful.
―I hear your words and I shall consider what you have told me,‖ Adem managed to
say though his tone revealed the caution of o ne who knew the Legends of Terese Silverblade.
―Might I request that  you pass a  message to her from  me?‖  he asked with some  manner of
dignity. Terese sniffed loudly before she replied, ―What do you wish her to know?‖
―Tell  her that I  hope she accomplishes  her dreams,‖ Adem said  in controlled  tones.
The  fire  cooled  in  those  large  dark  eyes  before  the  woman  replied,  ―Wise  words,  Adem
Highlander.  I  shall  relay  your  message.‖  Her  heels  clipped  against  the  pavement  as  she
swiftly stalked away, leaving Adem alone  to brood. Arawn offered no sympathy or wisdom
through the  kigare. Arawn was a Lord of the Underworld; he had never loved a woman. At
least, if he had ever loved one of the female Great Angels in Ages past, he gave no hint of it
to Adem. Viewing Arawn‘s  mind and  heart was  like  falling  into the  flames of  the sun, an
eternal  fire that  gave  no  warmth.  Adem often  worried that too  much of  his  Battle  Angel‘s
personality was transferred to his own.
The next time he passed Jean in the hallway, she was with Terese a nd Queen Lydia.
Terese stared at him as if he were a worm that needed to crawl back into that tiny crack in the
wall, while Lydia‘s gaze held a little more kindness. He stood silently while all three women
looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  a  complete  fool,  befor e  he  bowed  deeply;  flourishing  his
Guardian cloak that     he  was certain    would be  hiding part of  his  form, because at that
moment  he  did  not  want  to  be  seen!  The  women  nodded  when  he  straightened;  Jean‘s
expression was hurt as she passed by him. He realised then he could have offered some kind
words, for Jean at least. He stumbled onwards with a heavy heart.
In the weeks that followed, Adem focused all his frustration and anger into his sword
practice.  The  Nordic  Blademasters  were  considered  the  best  in  th e  Free  Lands.  Kailus
Broeduthar taught Adem most days using wooden practice blades, though they used steel for
three  hours at  least once a week. Kailus was tall and solid with a wide chest and a closely
cropped black beard  with drooping  moustaches.  His eyes  were dark blue with tan skin. He
reminded  Adem  of  a  bear,  though  with  the  sword  he  was  even  more  dangerous  than  a
charging grizzly.
His  movements were  fluid  from one stance to the  next; Adem often stumbled as  he
retreated  from one of the Guardian‘s  flow ing attacks. Other times Kailus would  have three
Guardians  attacking  Adem  with  practice  blades  while  the  Blademaster  stood  and  watched
with arms crossed and a  face carved  from  stone.  Adem  usually  needed  Healing after  these
fights as the strike of a practice blade could fracture bones and create nasty bruises.
Carl and Wil‘s weapon training was usually separate from Adem‘s as they had their
own Blademasters teaching them most days. Sometimes they were allowed to fight together
however, against six or  nine Guardians  wielding practice blades. Wil  used a blunt  wooden
axe that still caused pain on impact, and Carl wielded a wooden quarterstaff.
Carl was becoming highly skilled with the spear as a result of his training; he tripped
Guardians and cracked their ribs or skulls even with the practice spear, and Wil was earning a
reputation for breaking bones when he swung his practice axe like a wild man. Kailus and the
other Blademasters  forbid them to  use the Power during these practice  fights. They wanted
the Sons of Odin to learn to become experts with their weapons without relying on magic.
―The Power is a great weapon,‖ Kailus would say to Adem. ―But if you are drained of
the strength to wield, the Power is useless. Your blade will then be your only defence. A tr ue
Blademaster can face twenty Rokhal and still emerge the victor. You must become as worthy
in  your swordsmanship.‖
Working with the Power was something very different. You did not drip with sweat,
your  muscles  did  not  ache,  and  you  did  not  hunger  or  thirst.  Seizing  the  Power  was  like
grappling with the horns of a charging bull; teron was a raging storm of ice and an avalanche
of fire.  Teron  needed to be controlled once the Power flowed through you, like teaching the
bull to dance once you gripped it by the horns. Any slight slip in that fight for control could
result in being burnt out and severed from the Power forever. The Alit‘aren also warned that
a loss of control could result in unleashing the Power by accident which could harm or kill
those around y ou.
For this reason,  the  three Sons of Odin  usually always practiced  wielding  teron   in
separate areas of the Palace Courtyard. In the beginning, only three Alit‘aren would monitor
their practice, though as the months progressed, their strength in the Powe r grew, and so the
number of Alit‘aren increased to ensure Adem and his friends could be shielded if they ever
lost  control  of  teron.  Seven  Alit‘aren  were  stationed  around  them  now  after  nearly  four
months‘ training.
Torin Modrellock usually gave Adem his  lessons at wielding. The Alit‘aren was tall
with  large dark eyes and  long dark  hair  tied  with a  leather cord  in a tail  that  fell past  his
shoulder blades.  Long thin braids  fell around the  man‘s dark  face tied with shiny- coloured
beads as was common amongst the Ruhalden.
Torin  wore the dark coat, trousers, and boots of an Alit‘aren during  training though
Adem had seen the man walking the halls in the bright silks and bare feet as was typical of
the Sea Immortals. He also  wore  two  fat  golden rings  in  each ea r  which  marked  him as a
Shorewarden amongst his people. Adem was unsure of the actual meaning of the title though
he understood it had something to do with the man‘s duty to protect his ships.
One of the first things Adem had learnt from the man was how to  shield his dreams
from the Shadow Men and other Darkservants. Dreams were somehow linked to reality was
how  Torin  explained  it,  and  sometimes  the  Hero  Chains  of  the  dreamer  could  be  traced
through that Link. Adem learnt to disguise those Links with the Po wer while he slept. Torin
said, ―The Hero Chains of the Chosen  would shine brightly  to the eyes of enemies seeking
you out. You must layer those Chains with nightshade so none can see them.‖
Nightshade was the  name  for the  flows of  the Power  that were  used to disguise his
Hero Chains. It required skill and focus to create the weaves before falling asleep though he
learnt quickly. Since that time the only dark visitations in his sleep were his own disturbing
nightmares. They had also increased, the more he  worked with  the  Power; Torin told him it
was  the  taint  infecting  his  mind.  Adem knew  it was  just the  residue  from  Bright that  had
plagued his mind with haunted nightmares ever since that terrible night.
Creating shields to protect  him  in the waking world was the second thing  he  learnt.
His  shields  were  strong,  but  he  could  not  make  one  much  larger  than  a  ball  of  Air  that
surrounded his body. Torin told him such shields would be necessary as a last defence against
Souljhin blades. As for how long they would  hold out against a horde of Souljhin attackers,
the man would only say that he hoped it did not come to that.
Each day they worked on increasing the strength of his attacks, with the intention of
pummelling  demons  into the earth before  they  had a chance  to strike.  The  incident where
Adem summoned the Spear of Odin to defeat the Shadow Man was something that puzzled
Torin. His instructor said the strength needed to even wound a Shadow Man would have to be
immense. Torin had not sensed such strength in Adem  during any of their lessons.
The Alit‘aren‘s theory was that Adem had received a temporary surge in the Power as a result
of his close proximity to one of the Dark Angels. That was the name Torin gave the Shadow
Men. He said, ―The Dark Angel awoke a part o f the Power that lies deep within you. In time
it will rise again and you shall know your true strength. Until that day, your ability to wield
must be exercised like a muscle. The more work you put in, the stronger you will become.‖
Using  the Power to break  things  was  the way  Adem exercised that ‗muscle.‘ Stone
pillars were torn apart with weaves of Fire and Air. He threw lightning from his hands that
split boulders, and he turned the fields around the city walls into fountains of earth and fire.
Meditation  also helped Adem build  his strength  in the Power. He sat cross- legged with his
palms in prayer position as he practiced his breathing techniques with  teron  flowing through
his veins. His eyes rolled up into his head in a state of ecstasy and bliss while d eep thoughts
flowed through his mind. His Battle Angel helped him with his deep thoughts, about the Lord
and the Power, about the Great Angels and the First Age. Arawn transferred knowledge to his
mind through words and images shared by the  kigare  during his meditation and Adem felt,
that over time, his scope of perception was also expanding.
Chapter
7
The Daughter of Thor
Jean  stood on one of  the  grey stone balconies overlooking the  Royal Courtyard.  The thick
layers of snow were pushed back in neat circ les to expose the paved stone in places. That was
where  the  Alit‘aren  and  Blademasters  trained  the  Sons  of  Odin.  The  circles  were  twenty
paces  in diameter  in some cases,  with  four- feet - high  walls of  snow pushed  up around  the
edges.
The wind was like ice as it passed through her blue woollen cloak and white silk coat
and skirt worked with black  fox  embroidery. She  wore thick white stockings and  her blue
leather boots were fur lined, but still she barely resisted the urge to shiver. Ignoring the heat
and cold  was something she  learnt  from  her Ael  Tarael  instructors.  They told  her  that  her
‗sense of temperature is a state of mind and can be ignored through disciplined training.‘
Part of that training was vigorous exercise in the early stages though for the mos t part
it simply required the skill of switching off the senses that felt heat or cold. Adem insisted he
had already learnt this trick before they arrived in Kismeria, but Adem was always boasting
of his many talents. He was a ridiculous oaf most of the times he decided to speak.
She watched him battle against three Guardians armed with practice swords. Despite
how much he managed to get under her skin, her breath still caught when she watched him
move through the forms taught to him by Kailus and the other  Guardians. She knew many of
the names of those forms from her own sword training. Terese was teaching her to be more
than just a wielder of a sword; she taught her to become one with the blade. Terese insisted
that the Power had no influence there, except  for the meditation practices to focus the mind
known as the Tar’deith or True Flow.
The  practice  was  similar  to  Yoga  meditation  techniques  through  breathing  and
visualisation. It was sensing for the Power that was always just beyond your reach, until the
True  Flow  heightened  your  senses  and  you  moved  with  greater  speed  and  agility.  Adem,
Carl, and Wil also all practiced  with these techniques though the formalities were different
for men.
―Stop  mooning over that  fool of a  man!‖  Terese said  irritably.  ―You  need to  focus,
Jean. It‘s integral to your training. Love will only dull your wits and make you easy prey for
his lust.‖
―Surely you‘ve been in love?‖ Jean asked.
―I don‘t recall,‖ Terese said with a sniff. She stood under the arch of the open door,
leaning against a slab of grey stone. She wore a waist- length golden coat of silk with white
embroidery,  grey  woollen  trousers,  and  knee- high  white  leather  boots.  The  woman  never
wore skirts or dresses. ‗They are impractical for swordplay,‘ she would say, ‗and I don‘t care
about  looking pretty.‘ Her denial of ever being  in  love struck a chord of  intrigue with Jean
however.
―But  you can recall the exact  number of casualties after the Battle of Tarvis Krell,‖
Jean said flatly. ―You remember facing a horde of Nymloc   on the Peaks of Dorshorath over
three thousand years ago, but you do not remember love. How can that be?‖ She flashed the
woman a challenging glare before returning her focus to Adem‘s swordplay.
―I  remember  some  things  more  clearly  than  others,‖  Terese  s aid  defensively.  ―My
mother‘s name, the age I first learnt to wield a blade, just pockets of information . . . the rest
is fading. Soon I may only remember this life.‖
Jean kept her eyes on Adem  –  he pushed back two Guardians with flowing strikes  –
though   she felt a stab of pain in her heart for Terese‘s lost memories.
―I still say you must remember your true love,‖ she said sadly. ―Love is the strongest
of  emotions.  It  writes  itself  upon  our  every  fibre.  That  is  something  one  does  not  easily
forget.‖
―Per haps I do remember . . . a man,‖ Terese admitted. ―But I do not let those thoughts
cloud my judgement, nor did I then. I remained in service to my people and to the Lord. Your
duty is to all the people, Jean Fairsythe, in your world and mine. If you fail to defeat the Dark
One,  he will bring terror and destruction on Earth also.  You are  the White Snow Fox,  the
Daughter of  Thor, and a Child of Prophecy that  has been known since  the First  Age. Our
destiny is in your hands, and the hands of those . . . young men.‖ Fools is what she was about
to call them, Jean was certain. ―I understand that to try to keep you and Adem apart is a battle
we cannot  win, but I  must try to keep  your head clear of thoughts that  would distract  you
from your duty.
―You may have your  lover when the Great Battle is won. Until that day, you are just
another figurine on a field of black and white.‖ The last was a reference to a chess board; in
Kismeria,  they  called  the  game  mohrthra’daeghal.  Their  version  used  a  board  with  more
squares  an d  more  figurines, though  it  was essentially  the  same as both  were designed  for
battle strategy.
―I understand,‖ Jean sighed. ―But can‘t you see it my way too? I love Adem, and he
loves me. We need to be together, it gives us greater strength than when we a re apart . . . and
. . .‖
―I disagree,‖  Terese  interjected.  ―You  will  both become  stronger  if  you resist  your
desires. It is character building to accept faith rather than lust. You are young, Jean, with so
many years to live and grow in your wisdom . . .  though I think you are very wise. Listen to
your true instincts, it will tell you that I‘m right.‖ Jean had been looking inward for answers
ever since the woman banned her from seeing Adem. She searched for answers in the depths
of meditation, but her emot ions would always override her attempts at logic.
―What if we are both fated to die in this Great Battle?‖ Jean asked while still watching
Adem  –  her  words seemingly  affecting  his confidence  –   being  forced back by one of  the
Guardians, barely raising his p ractice sword in time to defend against the onslaught. Terese
sighed deeply before she replied, ―Your duty, Jean Fairsythe, your duty above all.‖
The  next  few days passed  with  intense training both at wielding  the Power and  her
blade. Gabrielle Arnothell was the name of the Ael Tarael who guided her lessons in wielding
terael. The Power was a rising sun over a mountain top that filled you with its warmth when
it rose above the peak. Meditation practices to open herself up to  terael  included this exact
metaphor.  Terael  swept  you  up  and  carried  you  away  like  waves  on  the  sea  when  you
released the desire to fight, a sea of bliss with waves of ecstasy.
The times her Battle Angel had linked with the Battle Angels of the Sons of Odin, she
had felt the savage nat ure of the male half of the Power.  Teron  was like a wild beast fighting
to dominate the wielder, a blizzard raging on a sea of flames. And the taint . . . so foul it made
her want to  empty  her stomach . . . so  vile she  nearly  wailed  in disgust  the  first  ti me she
sensed  it.  Her  heart ached all  the  more to think that that  vicious concoction  was  infecting
Adem‘s heart and mind. How long before he too became a beast?
Gabrielle  mostly  taught  her to  use  the Power to defend  herself, though at the same
time she was  teaching her to use the Power as a weapon. Shields and wards were part of her
early training, followed by calling down lightning from a cloudless sky and making the earth
erupt into walls of flame. She learnt to throw balls of blue fire the size of a grap efruit, then
larger ones, and then she learnt to change the colour of those flames.
Gabrielle said  those  fireballs  would  make a  mess of  most demons,  though Souljhin
armour and flesh were almost impervious to the Power. The skills of a Blademaster were of
most  worth  against  the  Swordsmen  of  the  Shadow,  though  Gabrielle  insisted  Jean‘s  best
hopes were to bury the Shadow Riders and their horses under waves of flaming earth.
The Ael Tarael did  not think  much of  Jean‘s practice with the blade.  They saw the
Power as a  much stronger weapon.  Terese  insisted  that  her sword would be vital  when  her
ability to wield was drained. Gabrielle said in time Jean would become so strong in the Power
she would no longer need a sword.
Regardless  of  this  disagreement,  Jean  also  spent  hours  on  archery  practice.
Occasionally, this was a practice  where  Adem, Carl, and Wil  joined  her  in the courtyard.
They sometimes kept score to see who was improving the most. Jean never won, though, she
suspected Arig bloody Reidenhold had a  lot to  do with their  improving skill!  The  man  had
been an expert archer in every lifetime  –  according to Adem  –  always a Guardian and never
an Alit‘aren, although he had trained to be one a number of times.
He was never strong enough in the Power. His fame always arose from knowledge of
war. He was a great thinker, and he was a wealth of knowledge. Jean often envied their secret
lessons  with  that  Hero  of  Legend.  Of  course,  she  had  the  legendary  Terese  Silverblade,
equally as wise and educated.
During the first week of the second month of winter, Jean crossed paths with Adem in
the hallways. He wore a black coat, trousers, and boots in imitation of the Alit‘aren  –  golden
dragons embroidered on  the sleeves.  The two black - coated  men  who  marched behind  him
moved further down the hall at Adem‘s request. Jean was reluctant to speak with him alone,
but her heart made the decision for her.
―It has been too long,‖ Adem began. A stab of pain entered Jean‘s heart at the thought
that this was a break up speech.
―Before you say  another word, Adem Highlander, think very carefully about what you
are about to say.‖ She fixed him with a warning glare, arms crossed under her breasts. Adem
stared  wide eyed  for a  moment before saying,  ―You  look  very beautiful  today, Jean. I  was
going to say that I miss you. We have been apart for over a month now. When will you see
me?‖ Jean began tapping her foot to emphasize that she was timing this.
―I told you that you would have to wait for me,‖ she said plainly. ―Am I not worth the
wait?‖
―You  are  more  than  worth  it.  I  just  feel  so  lost  without  you.  Meet  me  tonight?
Please?‖
Jean wanted to tell him no, her mind said no, but her heart forced her to ask, ―Same
place?‖
―Terese will know to look for us there,‖ Adem said with the expression of an expert
tactician.  ―Meet  me  in  the small  garden  in  front of the church, before sunset.‖ Jean smiled
and  nodded but offered  no kisses. He  grinned broadly as  he bowed;  then  made  his  way to
meet the other men. Jean‘s training was finished for the day, so after snack ing on some fruit
she requested  from one of the kitchen  maids, she spent the afternoon  trying on dresses to
make Adem‘s heart beat like a racehorse.
She was torn between silver embroidery on a white silk gown with a low- cut neckline
and a layered dress of   crimson silk that exposed her knees. She thought white silk stockings
with either dress would suit, though she did not like the idea of wearing fur- lined knee- high
lace- up boots with the white gown. In the end, she chose a pale blue silk skirt and blouse  with
white embroidery, a white silk cloak, and silver- embroidered white gloves.
She did not think she looked any different to any normal day; however, when Terese
saw  her, she went berserk! It  must  have been Jean‘s expression of sly  guilt that  gave  her
away. Either that or the woman sniffed her out. She thought Terese was part wolf.
―You are going to see him!‖ Terese snapped. ―Don‘t even try to deny it! I know! I can
tell! What are you thinking, Jean? The man is mad! Less so now than he will be in time but
still a madman! There is no hope for the two of you.‖ Jean drew herself up to face the woman
as she said,  ―I  am  meeting  him.  It  is  my  choice.  Adem‘s psychological condition  is  under
control, less so now without his medication, but still under control and  . . .‖
―The  taint  will  corrupt  his  mind  completely!‖  Terese  interjected.  ―No  amount  of
Healing or medicine will ever save them! The Prophecies say that the Sons of Odin will go
mad and destroy the world!‖
―Lydia says the Prophecies are difficult to  interpret,‖  Jean said,  ―and  it could  mean
something other than the way it sounds.‖
―What  other  way  can  you  interpret  it?‖  Terese  asked  in  protest.  ―It  means  what  it
means.‖
―You told me I could have Adem when the war is over,‖ Jean said heatedly. 
―I  lied,‖  Terese   said  followed by another deep sigh with  a  look of regret. Jean  felt
betrayed by  the woman,  giving  her  hope one day and destroying  her entire perspective on
another.
―I have to go to him,‖ Jean said in a firm tone. ―He needs me.‖
Terese rubbed her temples  the way she did when she was stressed before saying, ―Arrrgh . . .
just this once, all  right. I will allow  it but only  if  you are back  in  time  for  supper.‖ Jean
smiled and rushed to give the woman a hug and a kiss on the cheek before saying, ―Thank
you, Te rese. You have a soft heart after all.‖ Terese snorted before replying, ―Don‘t bet on
it!‖
Jean  made  her way to  the courtyard  to  meet Adem.  As she passed down the  many
hallways and staircases along  the way, she crossed paths with a  number of  Ael  Tarael and
their Guardians. Alit‘aren always strolled past her with little more than an arrogantly raised
eyebrow or  a slight  tilt of  the  head. Ael  Tarael were a different  matter entirely;  they were
obsessed with her!
Alvira Delgarther, dark of hair and pale skinned, stepped into her path to gaze at her
with her large dark eyes. ―I need to arrange a meeting with you, Jean Fairsythe.‖ The woman
said in urgent tones, ―We must discuss your focus with the Power. I want to help you achieve
greatness, yes?‖ Dressed in black silk worked with white wolves, her Rohjor was plain before
noticing the black wolf embroidered on the back of her white silk cloak.
Jean told her that most of her time was already taken up with Terese and Gabrielle.
The  woman  wore  a  vexed  expression  as   she  tried  to  insist  that  it  was  a  matter  of  great
importance. Jean did her best to refuse politely, but eventually, she gave in and agreed to a
meeting  the  following  morning  at  sunrise.  She  was  not  much  further  down  the  hall  when
Elgreth Tamoriel held her   up. The woman was not especially tall for an immortal with bright
green eyes and long golden curls. She wore a pale blue dress with white embroidery on the
sleeves and across the breast, the Blue Water Dragon pin holding the neck of her dark blue
woollen cloak.
―How  is your training progressing,  Daughter of Thor? I  hear you are showing  great
promise.  You  will  become  the  greatest  Ael  Tarael  in  the  history  of  the  world.  So  much
depends on  you.  I wonder  if  we can arrange a  Reading?‖ Elgreth  was a Reader, a  so rt of
prophet or  soothsayer. She often  foretold a person‘s  future through  her  Readings. In some
cases, those futures affected the lives of many. Jean did not want to know too much about her
future, especially if it was tales of woe regarding Adem. Again she attempted a polite refusal,
but the woman heckled her into submission.
―I‘ll see you before lunch tomorrow then,‖ she said as she sidestepped the woman to
march  onwards  down  the  hall.  Her  two  Guardians  stood  like  stone  sentinels  a  few  paces
behind the wo man –  dark- eyed Groth and pale- haired Timer  –  swords at their hips and bows
slanting above their dark cloaks. So she smiled and tiptoed around them also before she was
on her way.
Adem was nowhere in sight when she arrived at the churchyard. Atlus Tordis was the smaller
of the two churches within Nordhel. The medieval- style architecture was similar to a smaller
version of Notre Dame.
The  front courtyard was  no  more than twenty paces by twenty with a stone  wall to
section off the back of the church. Walls o f the palace surrounded the churchyard though the
walls were raked levels to allow hours of daylight to penetrate the stain glass windows of the
church.
A  thick  layer  of  snow  crunched  under  her  boots  as  she  strolled  towards  the  long
wooden bench  under a bl ack tree of  leafless branches. A small dark bird that  looked  like a
robin with a blue breast hopped on the snow at her feet after she brushed aside some ice to
take a seat. Then she saw  him,  his  Guardian cloak shimmering  white and  grey  to take  the
form of black shadows. He removed the hood and strode towards her with a smile.
―Thank  you  for  meeting  me,  my  darling,‖  he  said  softly  in  his  charming  way.  ―I
wanted to bring you flowers, but I think I have something better.‖ He then reached inside his
brown  leath er belt pouch  to pull  forth a golden ring with a diamond the size of  his  thumb
nail! Jean thought her eyes must have been bulging in complete shock as he then got down on
one knee! He‘s going to bloody propose!  She thought in a state of elation and anguish.
Her  heart  was  racing,  and  her  knees  felt  weak.  She  would  not  be  surprised  if  she
began to break  into a sweat despite the cold.  ―I  have only known  you  for a relatively short
time, Jean,‖ he continued  in  tender tones. ―But  I always told  myself  if I ever  met the right
woman, I would tell her that I love her more than money or gold, that I desired her more than
fame or success, and that I needed  her  like a plant needs sunlight to grow and a fish  needs
water to breathe. I know now that you are that woman.
―I   want nothing more in this life than for you to be my wife. I will love and cherish
you, have and hold you, in sickness and in health. You are my day and my night, my waking
hours and my dreams. I want everyone in Kismeria to know that the Son of Odin is m arried
to the  Daughter of  Thor, and I  want everyone on  Earth to know that Jean Fairsythe  is  my
wife.‖
―Adem . . . don‘t you think you‘re rushing into this . . . ,‖ she said slowly before he
gently interrupted by saying, ―You don‘t have to make a decision yet. Just think about it. But
for  now,  I  want  you  to  wear  the  ring.  So  that  everyone  will  know  I  have  made  the
commitment. But . . .‖
―What is it, Adem?‖ she asked with a frown.
―I  have already . . .  made  the arrangements.  If  you are ready, that  is. The pri est  is
waiting in the church. Carl and Wil are in there too. They are our witnesses. I don‘t want to
rush  you,  but  what  do  you  think?‖  She  could  hear  his  nervousness  beneath  the  beaming
anticipation in his eyes. She could feel it too. Ever since the first  Link between their Battle
Angels, she had felt as if she could sense part of his emotions. She had not discussed it with
her  trainers  yet,  but  she  was  certain  it  was  not  her  imagination.  She  knew  his  heart  was
yearning for her to say yes, and she wanted to , but she knew Terese would never forgive her
for betraying her trust.
―I can‘t, Adem, I‘m so sorry.‖ Tears immediately welled in her eyes as a great pain
throbbed in her heart. ―Terese says the taint will drive you mad, more than you are already.‖
―My con dition is under control,‖ Adem said with a hurt expression. ―I just need my
medication to get better.‖
―But  there  is  no  such  medicine  in  Kismeria,‖  Jean  said  sadly.  ―Terese  says  even
Healing can only slow the taint, she says it is inevitable. I do love you, Adem, with all my
heart, but I cannot marry you.‖ His face was unreadable, though her sense of him through the
kigare  told  her she  had just  ripped out  his  heart.  His  months  training  with  the  sword  had
stripped  the  excess  fat  off  his  bones.  He  was  lean  muscle  now  with  a  face  that  looked
chiselled from stone. He wore the high- collared black coat, trousers, and boots of an Alit‘aren
under the Guardian cloak. He looked like a priest.
―You don‘t  have to  make that decision now,‖  he said,  ―at  least not right awa y. Just
think about it, and please wear the ring to give me some sign of hope.‖
―There  is no  hope  for us,  Adem,‖ she said with tears streaming down  her  face. She
wiped at her cheeks while rising as he stared up at her in disbelief. Her sense of him was that
he had turned suddenly cold, though the cold was like falling through pits of endless flames.
―You  can‘t  mean  that,  Jean,‖  he  said  softly,  but  she  stepped  past  him  and  ran  off
through the snow. She did not look back until she had reached the stone stairc ase that led to a
palace door. He was still on one knee, his eyes searching the sky.  Looking for answers from
your Lord God, Adem Highlander?  she thought sadly.  Madness!
She didn‘t really  mean  it. She  had  learnt so  much about the  human spirit these past
m onths she was beginning to be a believer too. But spirits and magic was one thing, God was
taking the issue much further in your beliefs. She was raised as an Atheist and that was a hard
mindset  to  unravel  despite  all  the  evidence  she  had  seen.  She  still  believed  there  was  a
scientific rationale to all of this without the need for faith. Adem had told her once that ghosts
were scientific proof of God, but she did not quite  understand  how or why  he thought that
was true. Her vision became water before she turned away to rush up the steps.
***
Terese watched  from  the balcony as Jean walked away  from Adem  in the churchyard. She
had followed the girl because she had not taken her bow. Without it, she could not summon
Tanriel. She had insisted the girl take the  bow, but they had come to a compromise when she
belted on her sword. She was glad she had witnessed this event however, worse than any of
her suspicions about the boy. The fool thought she would marry him.
Well, perhaps she would have if Terese had not told her the truth. The Saviours were
fated to fight together but nothing more than that according to the Prophecies. She could not
allow the  girl  to  get  in deeper  trouble than  she already was. She would  have to  watch  her
every waking hour to make sure they  had no more secret meetings. Seeing Adem propose had
stirred Terese‘s memories. She recalled the day Gairlar Evorisel had sworn his oath to serve
her till death. That was the Guardian Oath, though the man had been her lover before then.
Strong and proud,  the man had the wits of an ox before she taught him to yield.
Though there was always a give and take between them, him usually having the upper
hand in the bedchamber. The man had died with a stake through the heart after he was turned
by a Vampire of the Reihei Coven. She still remembered the look in his eyes when she drove
that wooden dagger through his chest. That  was the  first time  he told her that  he  loved  her
and no other. Tears welled in her eyes, and she took deep breaths to steady herself. That w as
ancient history now. She had her duty to the Daughter of Thor. 
***
Jean lay on her front over the red silk bed sheets and thick mauve quilt. She was still fighting
the tears, and her heart was filled with regret. She did not know how long Terese had be en
standing  in  her  doorway  before  she  spoke,  though  she  guessed  it  was  more  than  a  brief
moment. At first it shamed her to be seen in this state, but when she looked at the dark - haired
woman,  she  saw  that  Terese‘s  face  was  also  red  and  puffy.  She  could  not  believe  the
immortal woman was capable of tears before that moment.
―I saw,‖ the woman said calmly.
―You were spying on me?‖ Jean asked incredulously.
―I am  your sworn protector,‖  Terese  said sternly.  ―The enemy could strike again  at
any time. You refused to take your bow, so I was forced to follow you. I also wanted to know
your  new  meeting  place.  If  you  can  keep  secrets  from  me,  you  will.  However,  I  was
pleasantly  surprised  by  your  sensible  behaviour.  You  cannot  allow  this  to  work  you  into
knots. It was  a foolish idea, and you made the right choice. When I find out who gave him
that ring, I will make a fine coat from their hide,‖ her last words spoke of a promise. ―In time
you will  understand that you  had  no other choice. If  Adem  turns out to be the  Blue  Water
Dragon, marrying him would make you an even greater target than you are already. I‘m sorry
that I had to break your resilience.
―You just have to forget what your heart yearns for and turn your anguish into fuel for
the  fire.  You are  going to become  very strong, Jean, stronger  in the Power than any of the
Heroines of Legend. Believe me, I know the pain you are feeling, but it will pass, in time.‖ At
that  moment, Jean  felt  like  her  heart  was  about  to explode. She  thought  her eyes  must be
filled with s uffering. Finally, she said, ―You were right. There is no hope for us.‖
―I‘m so sorry, Jean.‖ Terese breathed emphatically. ―If I could take your place and let
you become the wife of  Adem, I  would  make  it so.  But  you  hold the Power of  the  female
Great Angels. It is your reward, and therefore, your subsequent responsibility is your burden,
just as it is his too.
―I once loved a man more than my heart could take. It nearly cost me my sanity when
I had to lose him. I can‘t let that happen to you. I need to ma ke you stronger than I could ever
be.‖ Jean still lay on her stomach with her elbows propped up to rest her chin on her hands.
She gave one more sniff, wiped her eyes, and rolled over to sit upright with her legs
hanging over the side of the bed as she sa id, ―Come and sit beside me and tell me all about
this man you loved.‖ Terese rolled her eyes with her hands crossed under her breasts before
she walked to sit beside her to relate the tale. By the time Terese had told her how her lover
died, Jean decided  her life was the much easier one to live.
Chapter 
8
The Green Men
With  the  spring  thaw  came  the  arrival  of  mortal  lords  and  ladies  leading  armies  to  fight
alongside  the  Saviours,  as  well  as  some  immortal  tribes,  including  the  Dremelden,  Forest
Immorta ls of the Kingarin Forest to the  west of Nordhel. Most came  from the south or the
west as Nordhel was closest to the East Lands and the Green Border of all the Kingdoms of
the Free Lands.
Among  the  mortals  came  Lord  Jothar  Kelderath,  High  Seat  of  House  Ke lderath,
Commander of the Sea of Spears, Wielder of the Blade of Turmoil, Captain of the Remleden
Heart  Guard, and Keeper of  the Staff of  Reckoning.  The  man  was tall  for a  mortal  –   tall
mortals  were  of  a  height  with  Adem  and  his  friends  –  his  head  was  shaved  except  for  a
topknot tail of white hair that fell down to his shoulders, a neatly trimmed white moustache
like down - curving horns and a pointed white tuft of hair falling from his chin. His eyes were
blue ice that reminded Adem of an eagle as much as the man‘s beak of a nose. He presented
himself  to  King  Tobin‘s  Court  with  twelve  of  his  Honour  Guard  in  crimson  armour  with
conical red helmets with golden wings at the temples. The Golden Owl of House Kelderath
was embossed on the breastplates of  his soldiers, and  the  man‘s own  cloak pin  was of  the
same sigil.
―I am honoured to be in the presence of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor,‖
the man said in scraping tones though he looked hard as nails. He stood proudly in a way that
emphasised his height e ven though most immortals in the room were a head taller. Adem and
his friends, including Jean, were seated on thrones on either side of King Tobin and Queen
Lydia. Orion and  Elmira  were  not present  for this ceremony as  it  was considered to be the
right an d duty of Tobin to greet the new arrivals who had come to join forces.  
Kelderath  had  brought  four  thousand  soldiers,  including  a  hundred  of  the  Honour
Guard and three thousand of the Heart Guard with  nearly a thousand archers and pikemen.
The  armies  had  travelled  through  the  winter  snows  to  reach  Nordhel  by  spring,  and  with
every army came  almost as  many  servants, blacksmiths,  farriers, stable  boys, cart drivers,
wheelwrights, and whatever else was necessary to transport such large forces.
―I bring  news  from  the west of  war  and dissension amongst  the  nobles,‖ Kelderath
continued.  ―There  is war between the Gorthair and the  Bretons.  They are  fighting over the
arrival of  the Saviours to Kismeria and the threat of  Alit‘aren going  mad  from the taint on
teron. Lord Mark of the Bretons says we should preserve the Alit‘aren for the Great Battle.
Lord Tintor of the Gorthair says that the Alit‘aren must be hunted down and severed from the
Power before they can start a war that will destroy the world.
―Many of the Alit‘aren of Gorthair have rallied with the Bretons to fight Tintor, and I
fear that battle will become a bloodbath before long. Some have remained with Tintor to aid
in  his quest to eliminate  the Alit‘aren, and I  fear  that  those  men  may already be corrupted
from the taint. Why else would they fight for a cause that will inevitably result in their own
deaths? They must be planning revolt against Tintor.‖
Kelderath was not a wielder. He was just a mortal man with battle in his blood. Arawn
explained  that  he wa s known as one of the  great captains, of which there  were  seven still
alive  in  all  the  Free  Lands.  He  was  revered  by  the  other  great  captains,  as  well  as  the
immortals, for his battle tactics and his record of never losing a single battle since the day he
became captain.  ―The  nobles of  many Houses  to the west  and the south are scheming  for
power with the upheaval of the monarchy in the Kingdom of Monjor and Whitten Hold.
The  Duke  of  Whitten  Hold  has  been  arrested  by  his  own  army  after  the  peasants
revolted  and the soldiers submitted to their strength of arms.‖ The Whitten Hold farmers were
descended  from  the  people  of  Aldereithellen,  a  kingdom  that  was  once  known  as  the
strongest defence against the Shadow. Arawn explained that the farmers still to this day  were
expert archers, hunters, and trackers, and most trained with the blade to the extent that they
could be called  Blademasters  whether or  not they carried a  wolf- marked blade.  The Black
Shadow Wolf was the symbol of the Blademaster  in all  lands. ―King O lderon of Monjor  is
also facing revolution as a result of the taint. Alit‘aren have been turning mad and destroying
farms and villages across the Free Lands. The people are afraid of what will come next if the
Alit‘aren aren‘t stopped soon.
―Olderon  gave  speeches  in  the courtyard of  his kingdom  for  many  weeks to  try to
appease the lords and ladies who were leading the revolution, though the fears of the people
overcame his attempts to put their minds at ease. The last report I received stated that he had
c losed  his city  gates to keep out the peasant armies and that the city was effectively  under
siege.
―He allowed  the  lords and  ladies of the  Revolution  free passage out of  the  gates to
return  to  their  armies  however.  Although  they  are  not  of  the  ancestry  of  the  fame  of
Aldereithellen, the farmers and villagers of Menjaraith are also keen hunters and archers, and
many of those farmers were once soldiers who are now hardened veterans.‖
Adem could now see where all of this was leading. Kelderath himself must have come
to Nordhel to seek aid from the immortals to stop revolution from spreading to his own lands.
This  theory  was  confirmed  as  the  man  continued,  stating  that  he  feared  ‗the  threat  of
revolution will spread like a festering wound throughout the lands. ‘ He did not ask Tobin for
his help, though his words seemed to be suggesting that perhaps even the King of the Nordics
had best do something before his own people started an uprising.
When Kelderath  finished  his speech,  Tobin sat  for some  time stroking  his chin  hair
before he replied, ―Revolution is a new practice, Lord Jothar. One we cannot allow to spread.
We must first tackle the problem of Alit‘aren going mad and destroying homes before we can
unite the people  under our banners. That will prove difficu lt. I  fear we  may be  forced  into
battle  with  these  rogue  armies  when  we  invade  their  lands  to  try  to  seek  out  these  mad
Alit‘aren. The taint has not infected the four immortal clans of Alit‘aren as quickly as your
reports suggest of some mortal Alit‘aren.
This could be expected as the immortals are more resistant to poisons and disease. We
must  keep  a  vigilant  watch  on  these  men  who  serve  as  the  Hammer  of  the  Light  in  our
armies. If they begin to turn mad or evil, they may become cunning in their deceit. W e have
trusted the Alit‘aren to protect us in times of war and unrest. I fear for the days when their
madness becomes the source of those wars.‖ There were twelve Alit‘aren standing along the
walls to either side of the thrones all dressed in their black coats and cloaks. They stood like
relaxed lions –  their backs perfectly straight –  with their eyes searching the faces of Kelderath
and his men. Torin was among them; his face looked troubled when Adem looked to him, and
the man usually showed as much emotion as a stone. Adem wondered whether it was wise for
Tobin to speak of the issue of trust of Alit‘aren with the male wielders present. It could lead
to a revolt of Alit‘aren, which would surely be an Age of Chaos.
―We will journey west to try to put an end to this unrest and to restore order,‖ Tobin
said.  ―We shall  take a show of  force that should convince  these  farmer armies to submit. I
would hate to see another war between the mortals and the immortals. The Mortal Wars are a
black stain on our history.‖ 
Arawn  explained  that  the  mortals  called  that  same  twenty- year  war  the  Immortal
Wars. Casualties  were severe on both sides as the  mortal  Alit‘aren and Ael  Tarael  fought
against the immortals, and it was a war of the Power, where battles of steel bathed th e earth in
blood and the skies were filled with lightning that fell on both sides of the battle field. ―We
cannot allow a  repeat of  that dark  history. Nor  can  we allow our  fellow rulers  to become
victims of the people. We must speak with the other lords and ladies who have come to call,
and then we will plan our strategy.‖
Kelderath gave only the slightest tilt of his head for a bow to the king, a man of selfassured importance. He wore a blue silk coat so dark it could be called black, worked with
silver- and- gold scrollwork upon the shoulders and the Golden Owl upon his left pocket. His
boots were dark and also worked with vertical gold lines and his trousers were dark leather.
The  Blade  of  Turmoil  was  a  gold- hilted  long  sword  in  a  gold  scabbard  encrusted  with
emeralds.
The lord then left the chamber with his Honour Guard. The Court Chamber was fifty
paces by  fifty, polished blue  marble columns  supported a  vaulted ceiling worked with  gilt,
and the floor was white and black marble squares. The wall friezes,  tapestries, and paintings
were  large  pieces  depicting  the  ancient  armies  of  the  Nordic  Kings  in  battle  against  the
Shadow.  Demons were present  in  many of the  works,  most detailed  in  the paintings with
accurate colouring and textures. 
The next to enter was  Lord Farrigan Barmellis, High Tree of the Dremelden, Ruler of
the Ice Wind sept, First Speaker of the High Council of the Kingarin Forest clan, Weaver of
the Bramble Fires, Wielder of the Bow of Herculon, and Commander of the Reaven Archers.
The Bow of Herculon was an ancient enchanted bow  handed down  through the Ages since
the  First  Dremelden.  Herculon  was  a  powerful  enchanter  who  created  the  bow  that  had
devastating power. The Reaven Archers were immortal archers armed with Lukrorian Bows.
Arawn explained that the Reaven had to become Blademasters before they were accepted into
the  Brotherhood  of  Archers.  Five  Archers  entered  following  Lord  Farrigan,  all  tall  with
lightly tanned skin, dark eyes, and long dark hair tied at the nape of the neck. They wore the
same camouflage- coloured clothing known as the  torin’sidhe. They all wore long swords at
their hips with bows slanting above their shoulders.
Farrigan was tall with short, spiked black hair and large green eyes. His tanned skin
was  slightly  darker  than  the  Archers,  and  he  wore  a  dark  green  coat  worked  with  black
wolves upon the sleeves. His cloak pin and belt buckle were also of the Black Wolf, as were
those  of  his  Archers.  The  Bow  of  Herculon  shone  with  an  emerald - green  light  –  slanted
across his shoulder  –  and his long sword was gold- hilted capped with a fat ruby with golden
wolves scrawled across  the black scabbard.  The  man‘s dark  facial  hair was also  the same
style of most Guardians as were his Archers.
A very beautiful Dremelden woman also stood beside the man, with bright blue eyes
and  thick  golden  curls  tied  back  into  a  braid.  She  wore  the  same  style  of  clothing  as  the
Archers with a Lukrorian Bow and sword.
―May I present  the  Lady Gwyndel Haveroan, Blademaiden  of  the  Elder  Tree sept,
Archer of the  Trevellin  Brotherhood, Wielder of  the Bow of Soliden,  Resting Point of  the
Great Angel, Druantia,‖ Farrigan said in his deep tones after greeting Tobin.
Gwyndel stepped  forward to bow on one knee with her eyes  facing the  floor as she
said, ―I have come to  pledge my service to the Daughter of Thor. I have brought the Bow of
Soliden to present the Great Angel, Druantia, with the intention that she become one of Jean
Fairsythe‘s Battle Angels.‖ She then reached for the yellow bow that glowed with a golden
light when it was in her grasp. She remained on one knee as she held out the bow before her
and called the name, ―Druantia!‖
Adem looked in amazement as the floor in front of the bow began to break apart as
shoots of  new spring  growth began to push  through  t he cracking  marble.  The shoots  grew
thick, and  vines began  to wrap around the  growths that were  now bark - covered  trunks and
branches. The growing vines and bark became first legs and then a female torso and arms of
vine covered wood. A head sprouted from t he top  –  skin like aged wood  –  that was an oval
face with large dark eyes like seeds and flowing black hair of moss worked with flowers and
dried brown leaves.
Arawn  informed  Adem this  was  not  Druantia,  however.  The  figure was twelve  feet
tall, and when it walked, the cracked floor behind it became whole again, and the floor where
it stepped became broken  marble  with the shoots rising  through.  Another  two  giant  figures
rose to either side of the first through cracked marble in a rising of tangled vines and   shoots.
These second two were male figures  –  Green Men, Arawn called them, the Guardians of the
Forests. They were wide bellied with thick trunk like arms and legs where the female figure
was  slender  and  curvaceous.  Then  Druantia  appeared  as  a  figure  of  b lue- green  fire,  a
beautiful female Great Angel of a similar size to Tanriel, the apparition hung two feet above
the  floor  in  front of  the Forest Guardians. Her  gown  was blue - green  silk that glowed with
golden runes, her hair was black fire, and her eyes we re burning black seeds on a pale oval
face.
When she spoke, it reminded Adem of wind chimes as she said, ―I pledge myself to
the service of the Daughter of Thor. The taint is already infecting my Brothers, and I wish to
form an alliance with the woman who   will surely be our Salvation. This is but a trickle of the
extent of  my power. I was among the Second Born of the Great  Angels, and I am stronger
than Tanriel, who I believe was your first Battle Angel. Do you accept my pledge, Daughter
of Thor?‖
Jean stood with a curious smile on her lips as she stepped forward with her hand on
her heart as she said, ―I graciously accept your offer, Druantia of the Second Born, Queen of
the Druids,  High Priestess of the Dremelden, Wife to  the  Green Man, and Great  Angel of
Summer and Spring. And I am humbled by this great gift, Lady Gwyndel, and I only hope I
can  repay  you  for  it,  Blademaiden  of  the  Elder  Tree  sept,  Archer  of  the  Trevellin
Brotherhood.‖
Druantia smiled as she replied, ―Tanriel must have given you some of those titles. I
sense that my remarks did offend her. I have longed to speak with her again about the powers
of the earth. I look forward to being linked with her in battle. So you accept?‖ Jean then drew
her blade that glowed with a blue light as she held it laying flat in both hands.
―I accept your offer, and I present my sword as your new Resting Point to become my
Battle Angel. I will uphold my duty to your lands and to your people. I take solace in the fact
that you will serve as my guide and my protecto r. ‗Through wind and storm, through fire and
ice, through floods and through drought, may the Heart of Forest Elder be my guiding light,
my sword and staff and the keeper of my faith.‘ I accept wholeheartedly.‖
Adem assumed that quote was some sort of for mality Tanriel had also informed Jean
of  through  the  kigare.  He questioned  Arawn  with  his  mind of  whether  he  was required to
learn similar formalities for accepting other male Great Angels to his cause.
Druantia  was  then  absorbed  by  the  sword  that  glowed  more  brightly  as  her  form
became one  with the blade.  The Forest Guardians then shrunk back  into  the  floor  like  the
reverse of plant growth. The room was on one of the high levels of the palace, and there was
no  soil  beneath,  so  he  did  not  understand  the  need  for  the  shoots  to  rise  up  through  the
cracked  floor. Arawn said  it  was  just  for show. When the sentinels  were reduced to tinyleafed  shoots,  the  cracked  marble  reformed  around  them  to  make  a  whole  slab  without
markings. Wil made a whistling sound in the  silence that followed before Jean sheathed the
blade and returned to her seat with that same curious smile.
Farrigan  then  explained  that  he  had  brought  two  thousand  Dremelden;  Wood  Kin,
Guardians,  and  Reaven  Archers.  Gwyndel  had  come  with  only  two  hundred  of  her
Blademaidens  though  she  promised  a  great  army  when  the  time  was  necessary.  The
immortals travelled on  altherin  horses and brought over three hundred  sei’vani  –  which was
the name given to immortals who had sworn to become servants for a negotiated t ime  –  they
became sei’vani  when their honour was faulted due to any number of reasons, though usually
it was when an immortal had failed to fulfil their duty  –  the time was negotiated based on the
degree of shame they felt.  
This was a system that had worked for the immortals for countless millennia. There
were always those who  felt enough shame  to commit themselves to service. Some  were so
shamed they remained servants  for the rest of their  lives, though Arawn explained that this
was rare unless the shame  was emphasised by those they served. Wood Kin were Dremelden
who wielded Lukrorian Bows though they had not attained the level of Blademaster so they
did not attain the title of Guardian or Archer.
Other lords and ladies followed after the Dremelden, the lords in fine silk coats and
the women  in dresses with  gold embroidery  and  lace, jewelled rings, and  necklaces.  Lord
Denel Morthros of Soroven Keep brought five hundred cavalry and three hundred pikemen.
The man was of middling years with streaks of grey through his short- spiked dark hair, large
dark eyes, and a thick dark  moustache. His titles  were  just as  long as the others,  including
High General of the Southern Legions and Grey Leopard of House Morthros.
He wore bronze silk worked with black vertical lines, dark leather trousers, and brown
leather knee boots. A Blademaster‘s long sword hung at his hip in a dark polished scabbard
scrawled with golden leopards. Morthros was another lord seeking aid from the immortals to
crush the threat of an uprising. The   man showed less confidence than Lord Kelderath when
facing  King  Tobin  and  Queen  Lydia.  His  large  eyes  were  wide  with  what  seemed  to  be
nervousness, and his voice rose higher at times as he explained his troubles to the northwest.
It seemed the  fear of the  taint was  spreading  like  wildfire amongst the commoners.
Each  new  lord  or  lady  brought  word  of  Alit‘aren  turning  mad  and  bringing  terror  and
destruction  in  their  wake.  A  mortal  Alit‘aren  named  Kabel  Atillios  had  burnt  fourteen
villages to the ground in three weeks, some of those villages housing over a thousand people.
―Over  eight  thousand  villagers  are  without  homes  as  a  result;  Your  Majesty,‖
Morthros  explained  nervously.  ―Soroven  Keep  was  swamped  with  these  masses  not  three
days before we set out. The women were sleeping three to a bed in every room, and the barns
and stables will barely house the overflow of men and children.‖
―We estimate hundreds more farms and villages affected by the . . . crisis,‖ said Lady
Elise Caravine.  Tall and slender  with  flowing dark  hair and  milk- white skin, the  woman‘s
large eyes radiated warmth like blue lava. Adem noticed the woman‘s focus shifted from the
king and queen to catch quick glances of Carl. His friend apparently did not care to notice  –
he was married after all –  though the way the woman shot those quick glances, it was obvious
she had not been told or she did not rightly care.
―How long will Nordhel allow these rogue Alit‘aren to cause havoc in our lands?‖ she
asked as she was winding down from a very long sp iel. ―The people are revolting across the
Free Lands. I for one am more terrified of a loss of order than my fear of these . . . rogues.‖
Adem was certain the first time she paused she was about to say ‗madness‘ and the last time
she paused she was about to say ‗madmen‘ though the Alit‘aren present no doubt made her
choose her words more carefully.
Standing in a pale blue silk gown worked with silver embroidery, the woman heaved
for breath at the end of her introduction, the diamond necklace rising and fall ing within the
low - cut neckline that exposed more of her ample bosom than Adem would have considered
decent for such times. She was the High Seat of House Caravine as her father had died in a
hunting accident three years previous and she was the next in line. She had brought only three
hundred cavalry and  a thousand  foot soldiers,  including swordsmen, pikemen, and archers.
House  Caravine  governed  lands  in  Corsair  to  the  southwest  that  were  mostly  farms  and
villages though the nobles lived behind high stone walls in a fortified town known as Auglem
Watch.
Corsairans were a hardy people, mostly farmers and villagers with a few larger towns.
They  traded  mostly  in  wool,  tobacco,  and  livestock  though  the  Mithrim  Mountains  had
provided  nearly a  third of the  iron d istribution  throughout  the Free Lands  for  the  last  four
hundred  years. It was a  land of  mostly  farmers of  medium wealth with  few  merchants and
fewer nobles. Revolution would be quick in such a land if the peasants were to revolt.
However, Lady Elise held  herself with the self - assurance of a queen as she waited on
a response. Tobin told her the same as he had the other nobles, that ―we will plan a strategy in
the coming days.‖ And that ―something must be done before the Free Lands are in riot.‖
More  lords and  ladies  followed, over twenty  in all,  lasting  most of  the day as  they
made their introductions and gave speeches about unrest and civil war. Most of those brought
small  armies  that  could  travel  across  snow  fields  faster  than  larger  forces.  Lord  Rorten
brought only three hundred lances, Lady Eleisha was escorted by a hundred cavalry and fifty
archers on  horseback  –  she  was a  minor ruler of  mostly  farmlands across Mendora  –  large
dark eyes and a slender frame, her golden hair shone in the lamplight. Rorten  and Eleisha had
joined  forces, along  with  Lady Miranda  –   short and slim  with bright blue eyes  and silken
black hair – she came with over four hundred soldiers in all.
Lord Maldros  –  dark eyed with silver- grey spiked hair and a thick white moustache  –
spoke  of men going mad from the taint and tearing down many of his stone defences across
Tentor to the west; the man had more titles than all the others put together, and there was a
pompous air about him as he stood with his beak of a nose raised in the air. Arawn said he
was a formidable commander however, and Adem would expect so with a title like Esteemed
Champion of Battle, and Master of War to name a few.
When all had had their chance to speak before the King and Queen of the Nordics, a
great  feast  was  hel d,  for  it was the  last day of  the second  week of spring, the night of  the
Bellatanus  Festival  in  honour  of  the  Great  Angels  of  spring  and  summer,  growth  and
regeneration, of which Druantia was one of the three, the other two being Fodla and Eriu. All
the l ords and ladies were present in the Feast Hall which was over three hundred paces deep
and  half  as  wide  with  thirty- feet- high red brick walls and a cathedral ceiling  worked with
stained  glass of  wolves,  foxes,  lions, and dragons.  The sigils of the  Rohjors  hung on  huge
banners  around  the  room  that  created  hallways  for  servants  to  enter  and  exit  the  hall.
Nordhellin  musicians  –  both  male and  female  –  played  flutes,  harps, dulcimers, and drums
while  entertainers  danced,  juggled  fire  sticks,  did  back  flips,  and  somersaults  in  brightly
coloured silks.
The  feast  table  was  spread  in  a  large  U- shape  to  seat  over  two  hundred  guests,
including some knights, captains, lieutenants, and other soldiers of the mortal armies, along
with delegates of the four immortal clans.  The scene was a mix of ladies in fine silk dresses
and  jewels  with  men  in  finely  cut  silk  or  wool  coats  or  some  in  shining  breastplates  or
polished armour of various colours and hues.
Tobin and Lydia sat at the  head of the table  in the centre with Orion a nd Elmira to
their right. Wil and Carl sat to the left of Lydia, and Adem and Jean sat to the right of Elmira.
Jean had her hair tied up in intricate braids and wound into a bun in a style similar to the two
immortal queens. She wore a snow- white knee- length skirt and white silk blouse with blueembroidered foxes on the cuffs and hem, pale blue silk stockings, and knee - high white leather
boots worked with gold vertical lines. Adem wore the dark coat and trousers of an Alit‘aren‘s
uniform with brown leather  knee boots as did Carl and Wil. It was a warm night, so none of
them wore their cloaks within the hall.
Between the day of meeting nobles and the beginning of the feast, Adem had worked
out how to charge his phone using a small trickle of the Power with gu idance from Arawn. So
there  is  a  science  to  all  of  this!   He  had  thought  excitedly  to  himself  when  he  made  the
discovery. He sat at the banquet, taking photos while thinking what to say to Jean. Every time
he glanced across at her, she smiled timidly, as if  she wanted to apologise but did not want to
speak in front of so many people. Adem was not sure he wanted to discuss her rejection of his
proposal in front of so many strangers either.
Orion showed a keen interest in Adem‘s phone –  which he called a ‗crystal box‘ – and
Adem asked the king to take a photo of him and Jean together. Elmira smiled warmly at that,
and Orion took  several photos after  Adem  had photographed the two kings and queens  for
some time and showed them the pictures. It was the first pictures of Jean he had, a memory of
her that would never fade. He sat staring at the picture for some time before she said,
―Could I have another look, please, Adem?‖
―Of course, you may, Jean,‖ he replied as he handed her the phone. ―You look very
beautiful  as  always.  I  will  cherish  those  pictures,  forever.‖  That  comment  gained  him  a
warning  glare  from  Terese  who sat beside  Jean.  The  woman appeared  utterly bamboozled
over Elmira‘s insistence that Adem and Jean sit together.
―You‘ll get to take plenty more, silly boy,‖ Jean said with a grin. ―Let me take one of
you,  Carl  and  Wil  together  in  your  uniforms.  You  all  look  so  handsome.‖  Adem  smiled
weakly, and they both stood  to  make  their  way around  to Carl and Wil‘s chairs.  The seats
were  high- backed  rectangular  gilded  thrones  with  colourful  cushioned  material.  His  two
friends  stood  on  either  side  of  him  with  their  hands  around  his  shoulders  as  Jean  took  a
number of shots. Carl  had  tried to console Adem  many times since Jean‘s refusal to  marry
him, though Adem did  not want to hear Carl‘s attempted rationale of why it was ‗probably
for the best.‘
Since that day Adem had felt himself sliding deeper and deeper into a state of mental
illness. Not madness in fact, more a burning rage like a volcano erupting within his fl esh and
bones    his blood and spirit. It was similar to the theme of falling through fire that he sensed
in Arawn through the  kigare, endless pain, endless suffering. What he could not understand
was how Jean could reject her own true feelings for him. He  knew she had loved him. Then
she just  changed.
His  worst  fear  was  that  something  might  happen  to  her;  she  was  so  brave  and  so
strong,  but  she  was  just  a  fragile  little  girl  at  heart,  though  a  young  woman  in  fact.  Her
rejection  had torn apart that delicate  fabric  that  had  held  him  in a state of sanity  for all of
those  years before  he  met her. It  wasn‘t  her  fault of course,  he didn‘t blame her;  he didn‘t
even blame Terese bloody Silverblade! He understood she thought her decision was the right
thing to do; h e just could not believe she made that decision.
The daily Healings  were  the only thing that kept  him  in a state of calm  in outward
appearance. Though he felt tense and nervous in Jean‘s presence, unsure of what to say and
unable to suppress his anguish on  the inside. And then there was the taint, working its way
ever deeper into his mind and soul the more he used the Power. Arawn tried to tell him that
the pain would make him stronger;  it will   make you a real man, Arawn would say, and,  the
taint will also  make you strong, if you can resist it. There is great strength in your depths,
Son of Odin.
When  they  returned to their seats, Adem  was able  to  make civil  conversation with
Jean though his heart was aching every time he looked at her, more so than when he  was just
listening to her voice. Finally she said, ―You look worn out, Adem. You look tired, drained,
as if something has been ripped out of you. I know I hurt your feelings, but in time you will
get over me. We are supposed to save the world, not fall in  love. It just wasn‘t meant to be.‖
―So  you plan to  fall  in  love with another?‖ Adem asked. ―When we are  fated to be
together,  you  choose  to  run  and  hide  from  my  sight  because  your  heart  is  aching  just  as
badly? Something was ripped out of me, my heart and soul. All that is left now is fire, eternal
flame.‖ He finished with a deliberate sneer he knew she would not approve of.
―Have  you been  accepting  your  Healing every evening, Adem?‖ Jean asked  with a
concerned frown and what appeared to be a hint of fear in her large blue eyes. His faint sense
of her through the kigare confirmed it was both concern and fear. ―You are a changed person
from when we first met, in some ways much the better, but when I hear you talk like that, it‘s
like you‘re a different person   entirely. You can‘t afford to become two people, Adem. You
have to be you, just you and no one else. Understand?‖ She smiled nervously at the end as
she  waited  for a response. He sighed deeply  and  felt a wave of calm  wash over  him as  he
said, ―There  is only one me, Jean. There was never more than one.‖
Suddenly her mood brightened and her eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly and said,
―That‘s the Adem Highlander I know and love. I don‘t ever want to see that other guy again,
OK? Promise me?‖
―I promise,‖ he  said after another sigh over hearing her say that she still loved him.
His sense of her through the kigare  was that she did still love him, so much so he was stunned
by it, even though it was still only a very faint perception. He also realised what must have
brightened her mood. It was not just his words that had cheered her; it was her sense of his
suddenly letting go of all of his pain and despair. He was surprised himself when he realised
it had melted away at her words and what he sensed in her. ―But I   need you to promise me
something, that if I break my promise, and that ‗other guy‘ shows his face again, I need you
to  forgive  me.  That  is  all  that  I  ask.‖  She  crossed  her  arms  under  her  breasts  at  that  and
looked  at  him  with  scorn  before  she  said,  ―Just  make  sure  I  never  see  him  again,  Adem
Highlander. You promised.‖ He realised the conversation could turn nasty from then onwards
if he kept this up, so he pointed to the performers and started to capture them on video. Jean
turned her attention to the perf ormers, and they just sat and watched for a time and listened to
the music. It was peaceful. He was content once more.
Chapter 
9
The Bellatanus Festival
The festivities lasted another four days. Celebrations poured out on to the streets of Nordhel
from   the houses and inns within the city where people held grand parties in fancy costumes
and gilded and feathered masks. On the second night, a night of a near full waxing moon with
bright stars lighting up the dark sky, Adem and his friends visited the Chestnut Quarter of the
city, a section of streets and laneways mostly made up of two -  or three- story inns and taverns
sometimes  built  right  up  next  to  one  another  without  a  laneway  between.  The  Chestnut
Quarter was one of  the poorer districts of the city  though at  festival  time the  nobility also
mixed with the common people in the ale houses and on the streets.
Adem strolled down a  wide  laneway with  inns and  taverns on either  side  throwing
warm amber  lights on to the  cobble  stone  street. Occasionally, a  sedan  chair  held by  four
thick- armed servants would be seen  making  its way through the  laneway bearing a  lord or
lady  in brightly coloured  silks and an even brighter  mask  with blue,  green,  yellow, or red
feathers sticking up out of the top or around the sides. S ome women wore dresses completely
formed of colourful feathers, and in some cases, they exposed more flesh than feathers. The
festival was a time when the three classes forgot about the restrictions of their titles or their
place  in society, and they all s hared  in the revelry  for the days that the celebrations  would
last. Noble  women did  not go around kissing  men of  the  lower classes  however,  they  may
dance  with a  merchant or even a  lower- class civilian, though decency  forbid  them to cross
any more lines th an this. It was their duty to uphold order and a sense of self- discipline, even
when doused in wine till they swayed in the dance.
The  noble  men  paid  no  heed  to  any  such  rules  however,  drinking  in  taverns  and
common rooms of inns where they danced with women of the lower classes, balanced them
on their knees, kissed them in corners, and often made their way upstairs with one or two or
even three women under their arms in the inns that had rooms to spare. That was the mortal
noblemen of course; immortals had   much more sense and decency even with a head full of
ale or wine. They usually found only one partner in their lifetime after all.
There were thousands of mortal men and women in the city during the celebrations.
Many were permanently housed within the c ity walls, as servants in the inns and taverns, as
merchants or lords and ladies on extended visits to the King of the Nordics, as well as over
three  hundred  nobility  who  had  arrived  with  the  spring  thaw,  bringing  escorts  of  soldiers
either in aid of the Saviours or to protect their own interests during their journey to Nordhel.
Adem had witnessed these rules of celebration in many of the inns and taverns they
had passed  through on their way to the Chestnut Quarter.  Those were the  finer places they
had visited earlier in the evening where nobility and merchants made up more than half the
numbers in any building with their soldiers sitting at nearby tables in their polished armour,
playing  dice  or  cards  over  mugs  of  ale.  The  scenes  were  similar  in  the  Chestnut  Quarter
though the number of nobility and merchants was almost halved and the soldiers serving as
bodyguards  more  than doubled  with  the  rest of  the  crowd being  made  up of servants and
common folk, both mortal and immortal.
Mortal  servants  did  not  follow  the  sei’vani  code  of  the  immortals;  however,  they
simply worked for coin. The immortal cities were considered safer than the mortal castles and
holds, the pay  was better, and  the chance of being robbed or  murdered on the streets after
dark was  minimal  to a lmost  impossible, so  it was a  great  honour  to be chosen as a  mortal
servant in Nordhel. Torin explained most of this to Adem as they made their way through the
streets  and  laneways  in  search  of  the  ideal  tavern  or  common  room  to  continue  their
celebrations. Jean had not joined them on this outing; Adem suspected Terese  had  insisted
she stay in the castle where it was safe. Adem did not object to this as he also had concerns
about the young woman being out on the streets with thousands of drunken men leering  and
drooling over her.
Carl and Wil walked a pace behind him with two Alit‘aren on either side of them.
Orion walked to Adem‘s left with Tigerclaw hanging at his hip though the King of the
Torvellen was dressed in Alit‘aren black with a dark- gilded wolf  mask. Masks of the Rohjors
were  a  popular  choice  among  the  revellers,  the  Wolf,  the  Fox,  the  Lion,  or  the  Dragon,
though others wore the Owl, the Hawk, the Falcon, the Eagle, and other sigils of the  many
noble Houses across the lands. Not all wore the sigils of their own Houses however, as the
mask  was  supposed  to serve as a disguise, so that  the  wearer could be  free to  join  in  the
celebrations without fear of how it would affect their standing in the days that followed.
Twelve Nordic Guardians followed Ade m and his friends like wolves stalking in the
night, along with four Torvellen who served as bodyguards to Orion, including Talegon and
Kelflax. Crowds parted around them easily as they made their way through the streets. Even
drunken  civilians  were  wise  e nough  to  avoid  getting  in  a  scuffle  with  armed  Guardians.
Adem, Carl, and Wil did not wear masks; however, they saw no reason to hide who they were
from the people. Orion had advised against this, stating that Darkservants could be amongst
the crowds on any street.
For this reason, they had brought the extra twelve Guardians when originally they had
only planned to go with Orion‘s bodyguards and the five Alit‘aren. The other reason Adem
and his friends had not wanted to wear a mask of any of the Rohjors wa s that they still had
not worked out who was the  Blue  Water Dragon, and  it seemed presumptuous  for any of
them to wear the blue mask until that was decided.
Torin wore dark blue baggy silk trousers and a red silk coat lined with silver- and- gold
scrollwork.  His  feet were bare, and  he wore the four  fat  golden earrings of a Shorewarden.
His beaded braids clicked together as his head swivelled left and right to scan the crowd as if
he expected a Darkservant to lunge at them at any moment with a dagger aimed for   Adem‘s
heart. The man wore a Red Badger mask with gilded scrollwork and two long blue feathers
rising from the top. His face below his nose was exposed with his dark moustache and goatee
giving him the appearance of a wolf disguised as something tamer.
― Stay on the alert, Adem,‖ the man would say, from time to time. ―The enemy could
be lying in wait around the next corner, and if you are not on your guard, a knife could easily
slide under your ribs. I am skilled at Healing, as you know, though I cannot cu re death. If I
am distracted by other assassins, there may not be time to save you before you bleed out.‖
―I will be careful, Torin,‖ Adem replied as he waved to a woman in a cream silk dress
and pink mask worked with silver lines. Red feathers rose from t he top of the mask that she
held to her face on a silver handle. When she removed the mask, she smiled with pearl- white
teeth, large blue eyes, and red cheeks on a thin pale face. A mortal woman    she was very
pretty and about his age. Her dark hair was braided and tied up into a bun similar to Jean‘s at
the banquet the night before.
―Be warned, Adem,‖ Orion said in his deep tones, ―a woman so fair may steal more
than your heart if you give in to her seduction.‖ Adem looked to the woman, and she gave a
wicked grin as if she had overheard, though the noise of the crowd and the music that came
from every building made that seem unlikely.
―You think  she would be after  my  money?‖  Adem  asked. His coin purse contained
some gold but mostly silver. ―The woman appea rs well off by the style and cut of her dress.
What other than my heart would she seek?‖ Orion chuckled deeply as he replied, ―A woman
may seek to steal your place of power, for the Sons of Odin will sit highest amongst the kings
and queens of the Free Lands. If  you are too eager to  fall  in  love and  make a woman  your
wife,  she  will  become  higher  than  any  queen.  You  should  have  worn  the  mask  as  I
suggested.‖
Adem snorted before  he said,  ―I already  love one woman  more than  my  heart can
take. I have no room in my heart for another.‖ Though when the woman leaned forward to
expose the  tops of  her  breasts,  then  hitched  up  her skirt to  show  her  legs  up  to  her  lower
thighs,  he  knew  that  last  comment  was  not  entirely  truthful.  Ever  since  he  arrived  at
Kismeria, his  heart had become filled with passionate fires. He decided his medication must
have  been  keeping  him  sedated  in  that  regard  also,  though  he  knew  he  would  have  to
continue  to  take  it  when  he  returned  home.  With  the  effects  of  the  taint,  it  was  likely  he
woul d need to increase the dose.
The  woman began  to dance  with a  young  mortal  man  in a bright  coat and  trousers
who  waved  a  Green  Wasp  mask  with  yellow  feathers  in  front  of  his  face  as  they  moved
onwards through the crowd. Finally, Orion pointed to a three - sto rey  inn of blue stone with
black balconies and a dark- tiled roof called The Dark Hound. ―They do dark ale here that is
my  favourite,‖  the  king  announced.  ―I  have  barrels  of  it  delivered  to  Tarvel  while  I  am
staying in the palace.‖ Tarvel was the name of the main Kingdom of the Torvellen, the city
where Orion was king.
―I am also fond of their brew,‖ Torin said with a grin. ―Lead the way, Your Majesty.‖
They then turned to  make their way towards the dark- stained door that was swung open to
allow passage into the main common room.
The dark rounded tables outside the inn were crammed with patrons of all classes, sitting and
drinking  and smoking  their pipes  under  the balcony  in the  lamplight  that poured  from  the
round glass windows.
Music flowed from the commo n room on to the street, a harp and a flute and a drum.
The tune was unfamiliar to Adem at first, though Arawn confirmed that it was called the Liar
and the Jester, a famous tune over a thousand years old. The tale on which it was based was
something  about  a Royal Jester  falling  for a woman who told  incredible tales that  were all
untrue. In his ignorance, the Jester told these tales to his king and queen and was beheaded
for  relating  false  tales  to  a  Royal  Court.  It  was  not  uncommon  for  the  tales  from  which
Kismerian songs were based to be derived from such melancholy foundations.
An  immortal  woman  was  singing to the tune  when they  entered the common  room
that was over forty paces deep and half as wide with whitewashed timber ceiling beams and
dark- panelled  walls that glowed in the lantern light. Large fires burnt on the north and south
walls with a long polished black bar running along the west wall. To the eastern side of the
room were the tables where patrons sat humming and swaying to the tune. Some wome n were
up dancing on their chairs or even on the tables in fine silk dresses of bright reds, blues, and
yellows.
The  immortal  woman‘s  voice  was  clear  and  strong  though  she  sang  in  the  Mortal
Tongue,  and  her  singing  lacked  the  angelic  quality  of  the  voices  Adem  had  heard  on  the
island  when  they  first  arrived  in  Kismeria.  The  woman  was  Torvellen,  typically  tall  and
slender with large dark eyes, honey- brown skin and long silken black hair in thin braids tied
with coloured beads. She  wore a blue silk dress  worked  with silver embroidery across  the
waist and thighs  with a  low- cut  neckline. She stood on a dark stage  with dark silk skirting
where she danced in front of the three musicians who were also Torvellen.
In fact, half the patrons looked to be of the Torvellen clan. Adem began to wonder if
Orion had picked this inn because he knew it would be a safer place for the Sons of Odin to
sit and enjoy the festival. His suspicions were confirmed when Orion removed his mask, and
the Torvellen patrons within the room b egan to smile and bow to their king; some men even
getting down to one knee with their right knuckles pressed to the  floor and their  left  hands
over their sword  hilts  –  most of those had the  look of  veteran soldiers  –  while some of the
Torvellen women bega n to heave for breath as if they suddenly felt faint.
―Drink, dance, be  merry, and enjoy the celebrations!‖ Orion shouted to the people with his
arms  in  the  air.  His  words  were  greeted  by  a  great  cheer  and  shouts  of  worship  for  their
leader; then slowly th eir eyes returned to the performers.
―It seems Orion  is well known  in this place,‖ Carl said with a  grin. ―It‘s nice to be
outshone by  a king once  in a  while.‖ Of  course,  his  friend  was only  making a  light  joke.
Since arriving  in Kismeria,  his  friends  had  never allowed the  fame and attention  they  had
received  to swell  their  heads. In  their own  minds,  they were still just average  mortal  men,
who were put in an extraordinary position of importance by a people they simply could not
refuse.
Adem was aware that  arrogance  was common amongst  mortal  Alit‘aren, and  it  was
not exactly uncommon amongst some immortals, though the Sons of Odin saw their ability to
wield the Power as a part of their duty, not something they should boast about. Their presence
did draw the  eyes of many of the patrons as they stood at the bar, sipping their ale however.
Torin and the other Alit‘aren scanned those faces like hawks spying for a mouse to catch in
their claws, the Guardians watching the crowd just as warily.
They were all served   a pint of the dark ale; however, the twenty- five men formed a
line that spanned  more than  half the entire  length of the bar. Adem, Carl and Wil casually
leaning one elbow up on the dark polished wood.
―I would give my right arm to spend a night with a woman that fine,‖ Wil said with a
nod towards a slim mortal woman in a red silk dress, dancing on a tabletop. The top of her
head  would only  have reached Wil‘s chest,  large dark eyes and  honey- coloured silk  locks.
Her  generous bosom  was  heaving  from exertion,  and Adem  had trouble dragging  his  focus
away once he set eyes on the woman.
―I miss my wife,‖ Carl said with a sigh, he was also apparently having trouble taking
his eyes off the dancing  lady.  ―How  long do  you  think we will be stuck  here?‖  he asked
Adem.
―We have not even begun to do what we are here for,‖ Adem replied, ―and we have a
commitment to the people. We must save them. After all, the taint was brought here by us.
All  that occurs as a result of that will be blame to place at our  feet. I know  you  miss  your
wife, Carl, but we  have our duty to  fulfil. I would  not  want  to show  my  face  in Kismeria
again unless we fulfil the Prophecies.‖
They were talking in tones that would only be heard by the three of them amongst the
talk of the crowd and the music  and singing. The next tune was the Duke and the Duckling, a
song more common amongst the higher classes that Adem suspected was influenced by the
arrival of King Orion. The woman‘s voice took on a more harmonious quality, and her focus
often lingered on th e face of her king.
Nordic soldiers sat at one of  the  tables by  the  windows,  and the  looks that passed
between them and the four Torvellen Guardians were like panthers facing off against lions.
Arawn explained that tensions between the Nordics and the Torvellen dated back to ancient
battles  when  the  immortal clans  fought  for  leadership  in  the Clan Wars  that  lasted over a
thousand years and devastated the  immortal populations. Eventually, a king and queen  was
chosen to lead each of the four clans, new kingdo ms were built to house these clans except
for the Dremelden who chose the forest regions to house their people.
Arawn  explained  that  before  those  wars  the  immortals  had  in  fact  been  split  into
twelve clans, three of each forming one until only four remained. It was unlikely a challenge
would be made, particularly with the twelve Nordic Guardians sharing ale with the Torvellen
–  as well as the presence of the Torvellen King  –  though Arawn explained that blood feuds
lasted generations amongst the immortals w hich could be thousands of years old. When Carl
first learnt of this, he made it his duty to teach the immortals about forgiveness.
The rest of the evening was spent at The Dark Hound, listening to the musicians and
the  female singer, drinking dark  ale and   allowing an  intoxicated calm  to  wash over them.
Adem still had lingering symptoms of the taint, despite accepting his evening Healing before
setting out on the streets.
Jean  had still  never practiced  Healing   on   him, though  he  understood  it was still an
i mportant part of her training. As he stood at the bar, sipping his ale, he began to stare at the
patrons with a burning contempt he was barely aware of. Some noticed his glares and averted
their eyes to whisper to one another over their tables. It was a ki nd of mistrust of anyone and
everything, something he could barely control when his symptoms were rising.
He  had  heard  tales  of  the  mad  Alit‘aren  believing  that  innocent  civilians  were
Darkservants; or that Souljhin and other demons were waiting amongst t he shadows when the
sane men were certain there was nothing there. His thoughts drifted to this contemplation as
he began  to  notice what  he would describe as dark auras around the  forms of some of  the
soldiers sitting around the room.
He rubbed his eyes, b linked, and then looked again, and the aura was gone, though when he
turned his head, he would see the same dark aura around another man.
He didn‘t wish to discuss this with Orion, Torin, Carl, or Wil, so he silently conferred
with  Arawn  for answers. Arawn warned that the taint  was working  its way deeper  into his
mind and soul.
I do not know how long you will be able to fight it,  his Battle Angel explained.  Maybe
weeks,  months,  years  even.  The  question  is  whether  you  will  be  able  to  judge  accurately
whether you are receiving signs, or just seeing  things. I cannot advise you in much more than
this, other than to say that I sense no evil in these men. They are soldiers of Nordhel, brave
warriors who fight for the Light of our Lord.
I understand, Arawn,  Adem replied with  his  mind.  Still, I would be most grateful if
you could always confirm whether you believe my visions are true or false.
I will always try to warn you of any dangers I am made aware of,  Arawn replied.
Though you must continue to accept your Healing and try to remain calm and sane. The fate
of Kismeria rests in the hands of the Saviours. Without you, there is no hope for the rest of us.
Adem sighed deeply at that. He was put in a position of such high responsibility he
wondered if that would be the source of his downfall. He did not handle pressure well these
days, ever since the onset of his illness. Yet he understood that if he failed, an entire world
would  fall.  He  closed  his  eyes  for  a  few  moments,  and  when  he  opened  them  again,  the
visions were  gone.  He  was  relieved,  though also certain they would return. He wanted to
believe they were signs, though he knew  in his heart  it had to be the precursor of  madness
setting in.
His  other  concern  was  that  Arawn  may  be  conferring  these  issues  with  Math
Mathonwy and Dis Pater, who would in turn explain these matters to Carl and Wil. He didn‘t
like the idea of his friends growing nervous about his mental health. Orion had told them that
they would all suffer elements of the taint in time, though Adem was alw ays likely to show
the first signs as he was already the most affected before arriving in Kismeria.
―Is something bothering you, Adem?‖ Carl asked with a concerned frown. ―You look
a little stressed. Did you have a vision?‖ The last was a whispered questio n. The question also
confirmed Adem‘s concerns that Arawn  may be passing  information on to  his  Brothers.  It
was a strange coincidence that Carl should guess the source of his discontent so easily. 
―I thought I saw . . . something,‖ Adem admitted, ―but it was just my imagination I
am sure. Have either of you had any strange visions these past months?‖
―I could say everything I‘ve  seen since the photo  shoot  has been a strange  vision,‖
Carl said calmly though his brow was furrowed with signs of stress. ―Sometimes . . . I think I
hear something, a voice of a woman crying out in pain, or a man screaming with fear, in the
dead of night while I lay awake in bed. The sound is distant, and faint, but when I get up to
speak to the guards, they report that they heard nothing.
―I often wonder what the effects of the taint will be. I suppose hearing things is not
unlikely.‖ Carl‘s words hit Adem like a lightning- bolt. If his friends were already feeling the
effects of the taint, how long before they also started to pose  a risk to innocent lives?
―Perhaps  it  is  time  you  and  Wil  started  to  receive  your  daily  Healing,‖  Adem
suggested. ―If the taint is already working its way into your mind, you can only benefit from
relief of the symptoms.‖
―I am nervous about anyone using t he Power on me,‖ Wil said softly. ―Even a woman
using the Power makes me paranoid, but I would never let a man try to Heal me. The idea of
having another man wield the taint upon me sends a shiver down my spine.‖
―Let one of the women perform the task then,‖ Adem said. ―It is the closest thing to
medication  you  will  get  in this  world.  I think  you  will both  need  it. I believe we  have all
suffered symptoms of a mental illness following our experience at Bright. I understand you
have both received some counselling from a trained professional in the years that followed,
and whatever the reasons were at the time, I believe they originate with Bright.
―It‘s like Orion said, the Sickness is in all of us from the first time we witnessed . . .
apparitions.  The  taint  was  placed  upon  our  souls  then  and  there.  You  can‘t  just  deny  the
problem and expect  it to go away. I accept that I have an  illness and I believe you two are
also at risk. So accept the Healing, for the sake of the people.‖
Most of those words were spoken  in tones so hushed not even Orion and Torin would
have  overheard.  Immortals  had  exceptional  hearing  though  the  noise  of  the  crowd  was
building and added to  the  music and  singing. Adem  wondered then  how exceptional their
hearing was. Was it possible that e very immortal in the room could still filter out their voices
over the  noise?  He questioned  Arawn about this  though  for once the  Battle Angel did  not
respond. Adem‘s sense of him through the  kigare  was that he was brooding in his depths of
flame.
He looked   around the room at the faces of the Nordics and Torvellen again to try to
guess  whether  any  of  them  had  overheard.  Some  men  sat  stroking  their  beards  with
contemplative expressions  in their  large  eyes,  while some  women  looked at  him with pale
faces and wi de eyes. He decided there was no real danger in what they had discussed. Most
people in the room would know by now that they were the Sons of Odin. T
he  fate of  those  three  was a part of  ancient Prophecy  in Kismeria  that  most people
lived by like Gospel. T he taint was a part of their destiny, a battle they would have to fight
whether to win or  lose.  Adem‘s greatest concern was  how they were expected  to win.  The
Dark One lay waiting in the great dark mountain that was his Resting Point and the Doorway
to the   Underworld. Orion had said victory would be achieved when the Dark One could be
trapped in the Underworld and sealed there as his prison. That was how they were supposed
to win the first battle. The Prophecies also stated that the Dark One would break fre e when
the Saviours returned to Kismeria following the Age of Chaos. Adem had no idea how they
were supposed to create these seals to imprison the Dark One, and no one yet had given him
any clues.
―We‘ll continue this discussion  later  in private,‖ Adem said quietly,  ―as I  fear there
may be more  listeners than we  had predicted.‖ Carl and Wil then swept suspicious  glances
across the room to the many faces nearby. The considering men and pale - faced women had
returned  to  their  conversations  only  to  be  replaced  by  others  who  stared  at  them  with
expressions of concern or fear.
―I‘ll have another round of pints, for me and my companions,‖ Adem said to change
the subject as he spilled silver coins on to the bar. A slim Torvellen bar maid with large green
eyes and da rk hair tied back with a dark kerchief smiled as she scooped up the three coins.
One was more than enough to pay for another three rounds for all twenty- five of them, and
this bar was considerably expensive.
The pretty young woman would pocket two of those coins and change which Adem
suspected was the source of the warm smile she gave him and his friends as she said, ―You
enjoy our special brew then?‖ She and  the other barmaids all wore dark  skirts and aprons
with white silk blouses.
―Very much so, thank you,‖ Adem replied. ―It reminds me of something I tried back
home.‖  The  woman  grinned  as she said,  ―Home  is a  long way away  for  you three, and I
know, Adem Highlander. My name is Elrith Cormador. Call on me for anything you need,‖
she said that last with a  sparkle in her eyes before she made her way through the door to the
kitchens.
Three  more  Torvellen  barmaids  stood  at  the  bar,  pumping  the  taps  for  their  pints.
Later Elrith and the other three women returned with trays of  freshly baked breads with an
assortment of cheeses. It was Adem‘s fourth pint, and he was glad to get something to eat to
soak up the alcohol. They had eaten a light snack of roasted meats and breads before leaving
the palace though that was a late lunch. Tobin and Orion were there for the afternoon meal,
so  the  tables  were  filled  with  dishes  that  would  have  eventually  made  their  way  into  the
mouths of hungry servants.
The Guardians sipped their pints  much  more slowly and this was only their second,
despite the fact that the average full - grown immortal male could drink the most experienced
mortal drunkard under the table. Adem knew the men wanted to keep their wits about them. It
was a great responsibility to guard the King of the Torvellen and the Sons of Odin. Each man
still  had the  look  of a lion eyeing over a potential brawl with a weaker opponent. And that
was  absolute  fact.  Orion  had  explained  that  Guardians  obtained  a  kind  of  fortification  of
strength, endurance, and magic, from the earth, the Power that was in the earth. It was simil ar
to the  kigare, in that the Guardians were connected to the earth through their service to the
Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren and to their kings and queens.
Orion  said  that  great  flows  of  the  Power  were  embedded  in  the  soil  and  sand  of
Kismeria, in the rivers and lakes, in the plants and trees, and in the wind and the clouds. That
Power was transferred to  the souls of the  Guardians when they took  the Guardian Oath.  It
required some assistance from the Ael Tarael or Alit‘aren who guided their training though it
was not a spell, more a gift from the Great Angels to those that would serve in the Light of
the Lord God. 
So it was true that the Guardians would always clearly outmatch any immortal soldier
who  was  not  touched  by  the  Power  in  the  same  ways.  Some  immorta l  soldiers  may  be
stronger in the Power than some Guardians, though the gift, as it was called, would always
make the Guardian stronger, faster, fitter, and more able to overcome any opponent than one
who is simply strong in the Power. A wielder‘s ability  to harness the Power will grow weak
after  a  certain  amount  of  exertion,  for  example,  while  the  Guardians  are  fuelled  by  an
everlasting source of the Power. They may become tired or weak over time, though they will
always  have reserves of  strength and  magic  that defies  the abilities of those who  have  not
received the gift.
―I think you are right, Adem,‖ Carl said after a time. ―We should start to accept our
Healing daily, the same as you. I want to succeed here, not fail. I don‘t wish to become so far
gone I  can‘t make sense of anything. Things are confusing enough as they are around here.
We need to start forming a plan. A battle plan is what we need, and a plan to get the Dark
One sealed away  for the  next  thousand  years or  more.‖ He spoke  the  last  in  hushed   tones,
though Adem still held his index finger over his lips in a sign to suggest Carl hold his tongue.
―I am not certain how efficient immortals‘ hearing can be,‖ Adem explained, ―though
I am starting  to suspect  it  is  more powerful  than we  might  have gue ssed.  Yes, I agree, we
need to form a plan, and yes, the End Game is of greatest importance to us. How we are to
succeed is still a mystery to me, though we are surrounded by great men and women, people
with strengths unimaginable in our world.
―We have a  fighting chance. The . . . um . . . the Enemy may be stronger than we have
allowed ourselves to accept, though we have an army behind us that we shall lead to victory.
I just know it is so. We can believe nothing other than this. It is our destiny to succ eed! We
shall win this war!‖ The last was spoken quietly though with some emphasis. Adem looked
around at the men and women sitting at the tables after his speech, and he saw faces wearing
wide smiles as they glanced his way with looks that he would have described as being filled
with pride. He was certain then that they had heard him, those last words at least. It surprised
him that he had the ability to inspire people. Something he had not felt capable of since the
onset of his illness.
The music, the wom an‘s singing, and the noise of the crowd still filled the air within
the  common  room,  blocking  out  the  words  of  anyone  in  particular  to  Adem‘s  hearing.
Though, he was  not surprised when Orion clasped a hand over  his  left shoulder to say, ―A
fine speech, Adem Highlander. You inspire us all with your words. We were not listening in,
of course, though immortal ears detect more than the ears of the average mortal. It is a skill
that  can  be  learnt  by  mortals  who  wield  the  Power  however,  in  time  your  hearing  will
improve to  levels  you never thought possible.  Any  immortal  in  this room would  have been
able to tune  in to  your conversation  if  they  wished to, or they  could  have  focused on  the
music or the singing or just the conversation at their own table.
―Do not fear that you have said more than you should, nothing you have mentioned is
a secret amongst the people of Kismeria. Do not look at it as eavesdropping either, more as a
cautious friend monitoring the content of your discussions. Remember that Darkservants a re
amongst us. You must also be careful of what you say in crowded areas.‖
Adem‘s  head  whipped  around  to  scan  the  faces  of  the  men  in  the  room,  the  dark
aura‘s returning to settle in around five of the Nordic soldiers and three Torvellen men. He
rubbed  his  eyes and blinked again, but the aura‘s remained.  ―I‘m  feeling a  little weary,  my
king,‖ Adem said. ―Perhaps we shall finish our ales and return to the palace?‖
Orion took another large gulp of his dark ale before wiping his moustache with a wide
grin and  a sparkle  in his dark eyes as he replied,  ―Of course, of course,  you need your rest
after such vigorous training. We will drink fast and leave at the end of this song, yes?‖ Adem
grinned and  took another swig of  his ale. It  was  spicy and  had a  fine  mix of  flavours.  He
cautiously glanced around the room at the men with the dark auras while trying to appear half
drunk and lost in his focus.
He wanted to ask Orion and Torin for names of the men with the dark auras though he
didn‘t want to point or give away t he fact that they had his attention for any reason. It seemed
odd to  him that the auras  would  fall  in around the  same  men again. Not all the same, but
some and no others. No new ones. It seemed to be a pattern of sorts. Was it the taint infecting
his  mind  or was  it a sign? He needed rest and another day of Healing to set his  mind right
before he could make any sense of it. The last time he had had such symptoms was when the
illness was first infecting his mind on Earth. At the time he had the same struggle  of trying to
puzzle out whether they were signs or hallucinations. Perhaps it was just the result of being
without his actual medication for so long. Perhaps the hallucinations were returning.
―You look troubled, Adem Highlander,‖ Torin said in his deep to nes. ―We shall make
our  way back to the palace. Perhaps  you should  take a second Healing this evening before
you sleep. I see something in your eyes, mistrust, paranoia, loathing, any or all of those.
―Perhaps we  will allow  the Sons of Odin  longer  hours to sleep each day and  lesser
hours wielding the Power until we can understand the taint in greater detail.‖ Orion grinned
again and put down his mug to wave his hands in the air and shout his farewells to his people.
His  words  were  greeted  by  many  shouts  and  cheers  from  the  Torvellen  in  the  room  who
continued to cheer as the Guardians  formed a protective barrier  in  front and behind Adem,
Carl, Wil, Orion, and Torin.
They made their way out into the street where people still danced and swayed to the
music that floated outwards from every inn and tavern, in bright silks and painted masks with
colourful  feathers.  It  was difficult to  see the auras as clearly  in the  street as  he  had  in  the
common room of  The Dark Hound, though  Adem still  noticed the darkness around several
Nordic men as they made their way along the cobble stone lane. He decided not to mention it
to Orion or Torin until they were out of earshot of the men, though, when he did tell them,
Orion  stopped  to  look  back  over  his  shoulder  at  the  Nordics  Adem  had  described.  Adem
turned too, and the men appeared to be following them; they stopped short under the gaze of
the Torvellen King,  like sheep spotted by a leopard, and turned their backs to march  in the
opposite direction.
―Very suspicious,‖ Torin said, ―they were following us without a doubt. It is a strange
coincidence  that  Adem  Highlander  should see dark auras around  men  who were obviously
assassins. Perhaps you do see signs after all, Son of Odin.‖ Orion wore an expression of open
rage as he stared at the backs of the retreating men.
―We should arrest them for questioning,‖ Wil said, ―so we can figure out what they
were planning.‖
―They were planning murder, Wil Martyr,‖ Orion replied calmly. ―Plain and simple,
though  we  have  no  proof  of  their  intent,  and  therefore  it  would  be  against  our  laws  to
imprison and question them. Though I now know some of their faces and also some of their
names spring to  mind. I  will  discuss  this with  Tobin, and  we  shall set our traps  for  these
Darkservants.‖ One of the retreating men looked back over his shoulder at those last words;
Adem was sure they had all heard Orion‘s threat. The Torvellen King stood proudly facing
off against his would- be assassins. He was a man without fear in his heart. ―Let us return to
the palace  with  haste,‖  he said  in whispered  tones,  ―if  you saw as  many dark auras as  you
claim, Adem Highlander, we may be outnumbered if they choose to regroup.‖
They  did  move  with  haste  after  that;  the  Guardians  looking  in  all  directions,  like
cornered wolves ready to tear out the throat of any  man that crossed their paths. Some  had
their swords drawn now, those close to Adem and his friends, while those on the outer edges
wielded arrows of coloured fire. The light of those swords and arrows would have made them
stand out to other assassins hiding in towers with arrows notched to bowstrings or the ability
to wield the Power.
The Guardians judged  it necessary however, as they  had to  make their  way through
many  more crowded streets with revellers,  including off- duty  soldiers  with swords at their
hips. Any of them could be one of the assassins, and Adem did see dark auras around more
than a few of the soldiers as they hurried through the streets. He discreetly described the men
to Orion who marked their faces as they  continued along the path that opened up before them
as dancing men and women suddenly moved out of their way with expressions of panic.
Adem had not drawn his blade yet, nor had his friends or Orion. Torin stalked like a
large cat with balls of lightning  hovering an inch below his downturned palms. As they were
leaving the Chestnut Quarter, they had to cross a distance of streets that were mostly houses
with  darkened  windows  and  few  street  lamps  still  alight.  No  one  was  visible  through  the
darkness,  nor was there any sign of  movement when Torin  launched two  large balls of  fire
into  the  night sky  that  hovered over twenty  feet above  the street  throwing pale blue  light
across the pavement.
―I suspect a trap,‖ Torin whispered. ―Assassins could lay in wait around every corner.
We must be on our guard and move in tight formation.‖
―Kelflax and I will scout ahead,‖ Talegon said in his deep tones. ―If there are enemies
in the shadows, we will seek them out.‖ The Torvellen Guardian sheathed his blade as did his
compa nion, then both raised the dark  hoods of their  Guardian cloaks  that blended  with the
shadows as they crept  forwards.  Even the  hovering blue  lights could  not reveal their  forms
after they had taken their first few steps. Adem and his friends waited, though  all had drawn
their weapons, including Orion.
―Do  not  summon  your  Battle  Angels  unless  we  are  greatly  outnumbered,‖  Orion
warned.  ―You will  gain  no  ki’mera  orbs  fighting  men and  your  Angels  levels are already
low.‖
Then  a  cry  was  heard;  it  was  Talegon,  a  s ingle  word  shouted  with  great  ferocity,
―Assassins!‖
The sound of swords clashing rang out in the darkness, then the voices of dozens of
men were heard shouting and roaring, and then bodies began to pour into the light, Nordics
and  Torvellen  in  armour  of  steel  or  leather  vests  sewn  with  steel  discs;  they  wielded
flamespears  –  two feet of enchanted steel at the end of a two pace long black shaft  –  or axes,
swords, or maces that glowed with enchantment. A stream of flaming arrows flew from the
Guardians bows to hammer through armour, flesh, and bone as men fell screaming with holes
burning through their chests.
The Guardians with swords closed the gaps around Orion and Torin, along with the
other  four Alit‘aren,  who stood  guard around  Adem  and  his  friends. T here  were over  fifty
assassins that Adem could make out in the dull light, with more pouring from the shadows.
He seized the Power; lava and ice flooded his veins to mix with taint. He raised his
left hand in a fist while his right clutched his sword hilt  that glowed with a blue fire. Power
from the sword and Arawn could have filled him to enhance his ability by ten, though he did
not draw that much yet as he did  not want to waste his Battle Angel‘s reserves of  ki’mera.
When he opened his fist, he held a ball of blue flame.
Though he did not throw it, he used that fire to draw more fire from the sky; suddenly
balls of lightning were hailing down upon the advancing assassins. Where they fell and hit a
target, men screamed as fire burnt through their skulls like hot knives through butter. It was a
cruel way to kill a man, but these men were Servants of the Dark One, evil men who sought
the end of all life in Kismeria; they deserved nothing less.
Then  he saw something that  made  him question  that  belief. Some of  the  men were
throwing up shields of Fire and Air to block the falling fireballs.  They can wield!  He realised
in a state of panic. Suddenly  he considered that  these  men  may all be wielders  who were
turning mad from the taint! That would be his fault for br inging the taint, and he slaughtered
these men without a thought to their motives other than the belief that they served the Dark
One.
In an instant, he made the balls of lightning vanish; then he used flows of Air to tie
the nearest assassins hands at the ir sides. There was only twenty left alive at this point, and he
quickly shouted to Torin and the Alit‘aren to perform the same spell as Adem could not hold
them all with the Power.
Carl and Wil had chosen not to participate in the battle so far, which wa s a relief to
Adem as he imagined it would have been difficult to find a survivor if all three of them had
been attacking with the Power. Both had their weapons drawn however, Wil‘s axe glowing
golden in the darkness, and Carl‘s spear slanted at an angle.  Carl lifted the red shaft of light,
and it shrank at both ends to become a spear no longer than two hands that fit snugly in his
belt  loop.  Adem didn‘t  understand  how  gold could be  manipulated  in  such a way, even an
enchanted spear, though he tried not to  think on such things for too long.
―They may be wielders!‖ Adem shouted. ―They may be corrupted by the taint!‖
The idea seemed to dawn upon Orion as he shouted, ―If that is so, they are innocent
men! We cannot kill them! They must be arrested and sent for   trial!‖ The Guardians began
rounding up the survivors and marching them into a line. Their weapons had fallen at their
sides, and their hands were useless with flows of Air binding them. Every one of those men
had the dark aura around their bodies. He cou ld see it clearly now that they all stood under
the blue light.
He saw it even more clearly as they marched the men through streets lined with lamps
and where light poured from windows.  What does it mean?  he wondered. If it was the taint
that had infected  them, perhaps that is why Arawn could sense no evil in the men in at The
Dark Hound, because it was madness that had them in its grasp. The Prophecies said that the
taint would eventually turn madmen into evil men, though perhaps Adem could see the aura
of  men  tainted  with  madness  before  they  became  evil.  Still,  so  many  immortal  men
attempting the assassination of King Orion and the Sons of Odin would seem to be an act of
evil more than simply madness. He asked Arawn through the  kigare  if he sensed any evil in
these men.
Perhaps,  I  sense  something,  Arawn  replied.  They  are  infected  with  the  taint,  that
much is certain, though all men who can wield are now infected, some more than others. It is
difficult to tell whether this was the source of their  attempt on   your lives or whether they
simply serve the Shadow. They should be questioned, trialled, and executed if found guilty. If
they are simply mad or becoming evil from the taint, they should be severed from the Power
so they can no longer sense the taint.
It  wasn‘t  his Battle Angel‘s words that  troubled  him;  however,  it  was  the  looks  he
received from his friends as they made their way towards the palace. Particularly Carl, who
looked so shocked he seemed unable to hide his disgust over Adem‘s use of the Power  to kill
men, men who were now presumed innocent of serving the Dark One.
Both his friends had looked as if they were about to empty their stomachs at the sight
of men with holes burnt through their skulls the size of grapefruits, and Adem realised later
h ow offensive it must be to Carl as he was a devout Christian who did not believe in mankind
killing one another. Adem had never believed he would kill a man from the day he became a
Witness, he was also a baptised Christian and a strong believer that murderers went to Hell.
But this was an act of self- defence and an attempt to save the fate of an entire world and to
save a King! He knew  in  his  heart  his actions were justified, though  the  looks of  scorn  he
received from Carl made his heart heavy with guilt.
He decided then and there that he would not use the Power to kill a human  –  mortal or
immortal  –  as  long as there was another option that could save his  life and the  lives of his
friends without killing the man who threatened their lives.
He  felt ashamed  at what he  had become. He  had strayed  from the path of  his  faith.
Killing  goblins with the Power was one thing, but using  fire to burn through the skull of a
human was ghastly and vile. He wanted to talk it out with his friends, but their looks made
him av ert his eyes from theirs and march beside them with his head hanging low. He tried to
tell himself it was the taint that had taken over, the Sickness had made him do it. But he knew
it was  more than that,  it was  his choice,  it was  what  he was becoming, he  was becoming a
weapon, he was becoming a monster.
Chapter
10
The Challenge
The next morning Adem woke at first light, he slept less without his medication. He wielded
a small blue  flame  above the end of  his  index  finger  to  light  the  lamp beside  his bed.   He
yawned and stretched his legs over the side of the bed with his head hung low. His dreams
had been  filled with  images of  men with holes being burnt out of their  faces. Carl and Wil
had been there casting judgemental looks upon him as he burnt the faces   of dozens of men,
hundreds, it seemed to go on forever.
A  knock  at  the  door  brought  a  serving  woman  into  his  chamber  with  one  of  the
Guardians holding the door open. They didn‘t wait for a reply after knocking when it was his
meals or someone important. It irritated him to be seen in his nightclothes, woollen shirt and
pants of pale cream, though  they  had  never entered  while  he  was  naked.  The woman  was
mortal and of middling years    plump faced with rounded curves, dark eyes, and a pinched
nose that reminded him of a sparrow.
Alisia Darmel  she wore the dark livery slashed with red of the Lion Rohjor with the
lion embroidered on her dark apron in red and gold. The woman had delivered him breakfast
for weeks now, always with a word or two about how he look ed rake thin and he should eat
up to put some meat on his bones. Adem was glad the exercise had thinned him out a bit, and
he was cautious of his weight still. Though Healing left him famished immediately after, and
he ate much more than any normal man his  size, most days. He was licking the last crumbs of
a crusty brown loaf of bread and some goat cheese off his fingers when he reached for one of
the green apples sitting in a silver bowl.
Then  he  made  his way  to his  hot bath down the  hall  with two  Guardians  following
who stood guard outside his door. At first the immortals had expected Carl and Wil to bathe
in the same room as him in three separate tubs with maids to scrub their backs, but Adem and
his  friends had put a stop to all of that. They didn‘t  like  seeing each other  naked, and they
certainly didn‘t like undressing in front of servant women.
From  the  immortal  perspective,  there  was  no  shame  in  nakedness,  though  it  was
considered  embarrassing  in  some  cases,  such  as  being  stripped  for  a  public  whippin g  or
beating. Immortals could be as severe as any  mortals of Earth throughout  history  when  it
came to punishment. He had witnessed public lashings of three men over those months since
he arrived. The crimes were also severe though Adem had expected more ci vilised means of
dealing with criminals.
After  his  bath,  he  returned  to  his  room  in  a  dark  bath  robe  with  the  four  Rohjors
embroidered on  the  left breast pocket. He dressed when the  Guardians  left the room, blue
leather boots, dark trousers, and a dark blu e woollen coat with a high collar embroidered with
silver and gold. He didn‘t feel like wearing Alit‘aren black today. For some reason, the dark
colours reminded him too much of the taint. He buckled on his sword belt and sword over the
coat and was considering whether to wear his Guardian cloak  –  as the air in halls was quite
warm –  when another knock came and Torin entered without waiting for his call.
The man wore Alit‘aren black today with the sigils of the Sons of Odin on his high
collar. His eyes sca nned the room as if seeking out enemies before they rested on Adem. He
wondered if the taint was infecting his teacher also. 
―The  prisoners  are  being  questioned  in  the  dungeons,‖  Torin  said,  ―and  after  a  night  of
interrogation,  we  have  discovered  that  ever y  man  is  teetering  on  the  edge  of  madness  or
falling from the cliff. This suggests the dark auras you saw are a gift of the Light. The Lord
may be speaking to you in ways we do not yet understand. You mentioned you had similar
visions on Earth?‖
―My doctors call that my illness, not my gift,‖ Adem remarked with his back straight,
―and I still cannot tell up from down with either theory. Your words are comforting however,
I would prefer to believe it is not madness to see visions, though where I come from .  . . it is.‖
―Further evidence will provide us with greater understanding then,‖ Torin mused. ―If
it  is  a  gift,  you  must  use  it.  We  all  must  use  it  to  spot  threats  that  would  otherwise  be
undetectable. Our best defenders are becoming our worst enemies, dark   times  indeed.‖  The
man‘s  dark  eyes  appeared  to  be  looking  inward  with  those  last  remarks.  Did  Torin  see  a
darkness growing within his own heart and soul? How long could he trust the man? How long
could  he  trust  any  of  them?  He  sought  advice  from  Arawn  tho ugh  the  Battle  Angel  was
brooding again, descending into endless pits of flame.
Adem would not question Torin‘s loyalty however, not yet anyway. He didn‘t want to
offend one of the few men he trusted more than anyone, a man he looked up to, whatever his
f ate may be. After a long pause, Torin‘s eyes returned to focus, on Adem, like a dark eagle
spotting its prey as he said, ―Today is the day of your Rights of Passage Ceremony, you, and
your Brothers. It is a challenge, a test of sorts, though I cannot tell  you what the test is or how
you are to succeed in overcoming the challenges that are put before you and your friends.
―I can tell you that you will be able to work together in the test, though your Battle
Angels shall not be there to aid you. It is a test  of your skills, your courage, your strengths
and weaknesses, your hopes and your dreams. Remember most importantly that if you allow
yourself to give in to fear and despair, regret or temptation, you shall fail the test.‖
―What will it mean if we fail?‖ Adem asked.
―For apprentice wielders, to fail this challenge means a failure to become Alit‘aren or
Ael  Tarael.  But  for the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of  Thor,  failure will  bring a swift
death to you all, and the hope of Kismeria will be lost forever. Th is challenge is a part of the
Prophecies, the first of its kind were created during the First Age, as the final test for all who
train to become Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael. However, the test was designed specifically for you
and your friends, your Rights of Passage to confirm that you are the Saviours of Prophecy.‖
―You said the test is for me and my Brothers, Carl and Wil, but you mention all four
of the Saviours. Will Jean be involved in this challenge?‖
―She will be there, in a way, though you will not see   her or hear her, nor will she see
or hear you and your Brothers. Her path through the Rights of Passage leads another way to
the destiny of the Sons of Odin, and the test will reflect that. You may still communicate with
her through the  kigare  during the  challenge, this will be vital when you are both stretched to
your limits. I can tell you no more. Now follow me, I will take you to the Chameleon Arch.‖
He followed his teacher with the two Guardians trailing behind until he met with Carl
and Wil  in a red- painted hallway with  large tapestries of  farm scenes decorating the  walls.
Both looked concerned, at first Adem was worried they were still shocked that he could kill
with the Power, until Carl said, ―I‘m really nervous about this test, Adem. What if we do n‘t
pass? It seems a great risk? We could die!‖ 
―You  are  forbidden  to  discuss  the  test  before  and  after,‖  Torin  interjected  with  a
scowl, then added  in what seemed an afterthought,  ―though I am sure you  will. Discussing
what  happens  within  the  Chameleon  Ar ch  could  also  be  fatal  to  your  destinies.  You  may
discuss your shared experiences, though you must never speak of what you witness when you
are alone, not to anyone, ever! This is a test of fate.‖
The  four  Guardians  who  were  patrolling  behind  Carl  and  Wil  moved  to  lead  the
procession. Soldiers  stood  guard around  the  hallways and servants  scurried by busily  with
tasks of dusting and polishing, bearing trays of bread and cheese, tea, or goats‘ milk. A few
mortal  nobles  were  about  also,  though  they  cleared  a  path  for  the  Guardians  with  Torin
striding defiantly in their wake.
After making their way down four floors, they entered a series of grey stone hallways
with high- arched ceilings with chandeliers hanging over stone columns in Gothic style. It was
a part o f the palace Adem had never been to before. To reach it, they first had to pass through
a large stone door engraved with the Rohjor sigils.
Alit‘aren and Ael  Tarael walked  these  hallways  mostly, with  few servants or even
soldiers  that  Adem  could  see.  The  floor  was  checked  black  and  white  marble  like  a
chessboard. Carvings of angels and demons decorated the stone columns and arches above,
cross- hatched gold on black within the vaulted ceiling. There were many Guardians moving
about the hallways however, eno ugh to make up for the apparent lack of guards. Then Adem
heard voices singing, immortal men and women in a tune similar to when they first arrived in
Kismeria.
―They are creating wards against evil with the song, aren‘t they?‖ Wil asked.
―It is a custom,‖   Torin replied flatly and said no more of it. The song grew louder and
clearer as they  approached a set of twenty- feet - high stained wooden doors.  Torin  said  the
wood  was  ancient,  crafted  with  the  Power,  and  stronger  than  any  stone  or  metal.  Adem
guessed  th ey  wanted  to  keep  enemies  out  of  this  place.  Rohjor  sigils  decorated  the  dark
shining doors that were swung wide to admit them when Torin performed an incantation that
made the designs shine like gold.
The room within was the same stone columns and arches  with the chessboard marble
floor, a rounded room with the arches forming a peak over one hundred paces wide. Besides
the people, the room  was otherwise empty  except  for two dark stone archways that  stood
unsupported and rising only twelve  feet off the gro und at  the peak. It  looked  like stone or
polished wood that glistened as if slick with oil, though it also seemed metallic when Adem
touched the Lion Rohjor carving down one of its sides.
That one bore  the  markings of the Sons of Odin  –   the  male  Arch  –   th e other  was
decorated with dark foxes –  the female Arch. Adem knew it without asking, as one seemed to
sing to him, feeding off him and his ability to wield. The Power sprung up in him in response
–  flames  and  a  blizzard  filling  his  veins  with  the  rancid  taint  –  and  he  felt  it  rise  in  his
Brothers.  The  other  –  marked  with  the  foxes  –  was  silent  and  still;  he  knew  it  would  be
singing to Jean however.
Jean  entered  moments  later  with  an  entourage  of  Ael  Tarael,  including  the  two
immortal queens and Terese Silv erblade. Dressed in a red silk coat with silver buttons, a dark
skirt that fell just below her hips worked with crimson embroidery, dark silk stockings, and
red  leather  boots,  she  took  his  breath  away  as  always.  She  avoided  looking  at  him;
immediately,  he  felt a stab of  fear that she  had  heard of  his acts  the  night before, killing
innocent men. His heart ached at the thought that she would label him a murderer.
She wore her sword at her hip but didn‘t carry her Lukrorian Bow over her shoulder;
none of them   had brought their bows. It wasn‘t until they were all assembled; however, that
Orion explained that they would not be taking any of their weapons into the Archways. They
had only been allowed to bring them to this point for their own protection. It was explained
that the Great Angels could not survive in this ‗Shadow Realm‘ as Orion called it. Apparently
some had been taken into the portals in ancient times which is how they learnt of the dangers
it exposed them to.
―It is the Realm of the Dark One,‖ Orion said.
―You are sending us to our deaths!‖ Wil shouted. ―No one told us we were expected
to march into Hell!‖
―It is not the real Lower Realm,‖ Orion continued over him, ―but a mirroring of that
reality.  We  do  not  know  why  Battle  Angels  cannot  survive  in  t here,  but  we  think  it  has
something to do with  the  fact  that  the worlds within the  Archways  are  not entirely real, a
series of alternate universes with only a fraction of the depth of reality.‖
One  thing  Orion  had  also  explained  over  previous  months  was  t hat  Earth  and
Kismeria were linked dimensions, not distant universes divided by endless space; they were
the  same  planet,  or  two  planets  very  close  together,  split,  as  are  many  other  worlds  by
filaments  smaller  than  atoms.  Adem  knew  a  little  about  this  the ory  from  watching
documentaries  about  tiny  strings  of  energy  smaller  than  protons  and  electrons  that  are
believed to  make  up the  universe. Part of that theory was a strongly believed principle that
tiny wormholes existed everywhere  in space, even on Earth.   Adem thought  it was possible
that they  had enlarged one of  those wormholes to enter Kismeria. Carl was a scientist, and
they had discussed this theory at length over the last few months. Adem suspected Carl was
trying to work out how to enlarge a wormhole   using the Power to try to get home to his wife
and daughter. This worried Adem as it seemed Carl was missing the point of his importance
here in this strange dimension. They had a duty to fulfil, a destiny, a fate. Abandoning that
duty would be worse than  murder in Adem‘s opinion.
Tobin was also present,  the  two kings both  in  Alit‘aren black  with  their swords  at
their hips. Lydia wore dark silk embroidered with silver with lace at the neck and cuffs, while
Elmira was dressed in a blue woollen robe under a  white silk cloak embroidered with black
foxes  around  the  edges.  Terese  wore  tight  blue  silk  stockings,  white  boots,  and  a  white
woollen coat that hung below her hips. With the silver belt that held her sword, the bottom of
the coat served as a short skirt.
Jean‘s  golden  braid  and  Terese‘s  dark  ponytail  were  almost  identical  today.  Adem
wondered if there was some meaning in that. Terese stared past him to gaze at the Archways;
she seemed to be staring right through him as if he didn‘t even exist. Jean focus ed on his face
for  a  brief  moment;  her  expression  mirrored  the  ache  in  her  heart  he  sensed  through  the
kigare. Then she was hard as  nails as  she stared at the  female Arch. She burnt  with  fierce
determination.
The rest of the small crowd  in the room were Alit‘aren and  Ael  Tarael, the  men  in
their black coats and the women  in bright silks  with shimmering embroidery.  There were
seven males and seven females, stationed on either side of the two Archways. They were the
ones who had been singing when they entered, though they were silent now. Adem sensed the
Power rising in all seven Alit‘aren, and he knew the Ael Tarael also held on to  terael  though
he could sense nothing of it. He knew because the Rohjor sigils on the two Archways began
to  glow  golden,  then white,  then blue, then  red, and so on.  They  were  using the Power to
activate the portals.
A sound like thunder tore through the Archways, light like a small star blossomed in
the heart of each. The light spread outwards like a stone thrown into a pond, flowin g ripples
on a sheet of incandescence until the light became flat as paper. A humming sound resonated
from  each  Archway  after  the  thunder.  It  was  a  machine  of  the  Power  that  drew  from  the
wielders.
―Sons of Odin; throw down your weapons and prepare to face   your fate,‖ Tobin said
in  his  deep  tones,  his  voice  enhanced  by  the  Power  to  resonate  over  the  humming  of  the
Archways. ―You have come to us from another world, a world so different from our own yet
also alike  in as  many  ways. You  have come to  fulfil a destiny that has been known by our
people since the Dawn of Ages. Throw down your fears, throw down your hate, throw down
your  love, and throw down  your tears. Prepare  yourselves  for the  struggle of a  lifetime, a
challenge that will test your every fibre.
―The Sons of Odin shall be reborn of fire and bloodshed, shall be bathed in pain and
heartache, shall be loved and despised, worshipped and feared, and shall rise to become the
Saviours of Kismeria. So are the words of our Prophecy. Such are your Rights of  Passage.‖
―Daughter  of  Thor,  throw  down  your  sword  and  your  spear,‖  Lydia  said  in  her
melodic voice, her words also enhanced by the Power. ―You have come to us in the hour of
our greatest need, when Darkness rises in the hearts of men, you bring us your co urage and
your  strength,  you  fill  us  with  hope,  and  you  will  be  our  guiding  light  when  the  Shadow
returns to cover the lands in darkness. The Daughter of Thor shall be reborn of devastation
and turmoil, of battle and carnage, of Darkness and the Light.
―You shall  lead  the Ael  Tarael  to their destinies  in the  Great Battle at  world‘s end.
You will fight for us, bleed for us, and die for us if you must, but you will never fail us. Such
are the words of our Prophecy. Such are your Rights of Passage.‖
Adem and  his friends removed their weapons from their belts and stood proudly with
hands by their sides.  There was no  more tradition to the ceremony other than this as  far as
they knew. They had never before been told of this test in the first place! Adem felt a su rge of
fear rising in his heart and he crushed it with a vengeance. He had to be strong. He could not
give in to fear and doubt.
―Remember, that what you see in the Archways is not real,‖ Lydia said soothingly, ―it
is  more  like a dream that can  harm  you or  Heal  you, the  limits of reality  may be stretched
there  beyond  your  understanding,  but  this  can  be  used  as  a  weapon,  your  mind  and  your
imagination shall be your sword, your spear, your axe, and your bow. I can tell you no more
than this. Now go.‖
Jean stepped defiantly towards the Archway, and Adem rushed to meet her steps, then
raced past her to leap into the wall of light . . . music filled his ears . . . angelic female voices .
. . flutes, drums,  harps and violins, trumpets and trombones . . . he was  fa lling . . .  falling
through  infinite space . . . he fell  for hours . . . fell  for days . . . it seemed everlasting as a
sweet blissful  energy  filled  his  heart and soul as  he  fell  through  the  light , endless day and
night, memories filled his mind, first of  his own childhood, then other images of people and
places  flashed  through  his  psyche,  and  they  were  not  his  own  memories,  and  he  realised
within time that they were visions of Heroes of Kismeria, past lives of men and women that
were bound to the Shield of  Fire throughout the Ages, he saw their experiences through his
own eyes, he received gifts from this ancient knowledge, as his depth of understanding of the
Power increased dramatically.
Glimmer!
—Jarien Stonespear was born of the Torvellen Clans in the life he was second named
Trahvesnihiel, raised  in the capital during the  Age of  Heroes, the son of a  great  Torvellen
Captain, Johrdios Trahvesnihiel, a man of great stature in the city of Tarvel, the capital only
newly built towards the end of this  Age that  had  lasted some two thousand years since the
Age of Defeat.
Jarien loved to hunt as a youngling, and his Father Johrdios taught him to use his bow
with  great precision, though when deer or rabbit  hunting as a  youngling, Jarien was told to
always use a steel tipped arrow, rather than an arrow of flame, as ‗a rabbit is hard to eat when
it is blasted to bits!‘ his father would say each time Jarien refused to heed his father‘s advice.
Jarien did not really like the killing side of hunting, and his Mother Adei lia, born of
the Dremelden Clan, told him this was because his Dremelden blood cared for animals more
than the Torvellen, so he was in conflict in this way, for he truly loved rabbits, and deer, and
all the animals of the forests surrounding Tarvel in those days, and his heart truly ached the
first time he had fired a burning arrow into a small bunny, but his reasoning was he wanted to
improve  his aim at a  moving  target, although  the poor bunny was just  sitting and  grazing
when he fired.
He cried that entire  night, after  he  made a  small  grave and tombstone  for  the baby
rabbit, his father helping him collect the pieces and place them in a small wooden box, where
Jarien also placed an amulet his mother had gifted him at birth, for he wanted the little bunny
to  have something shiny to light up the box when it was buried beneath the dark earth. The
amulet was of a honeyeater with eyes of pearl, forged in silver, though it glowed with some
enchantment, and so he parted with it willingly to try to repay the poor bu nny.
Glimmer!
. . . Adem  felt pain . . . incredible agonising pain that flooded his senses . . . he could
remember nothing other than eternal pain . . . his skin was flayed from his flesh . . . his eyes
were  gouged by claws . . . his  mind  felt as if  it were  in a furnace . . . he screamed, but  no
sound came, only darkness . . . and  infinite suffering . . . he wept, but there were no tears,
only a wellspring of eternal flames . . . he heard a voice . . . a deep bellowing voice that filled
him  with terror .  . . the  voice of the  Dark  Lord . . . SO,  YOU  HAVE COME  TO FACE
YOUR  DOOM,  SON  OF ODIN,  I  LAUGH  AT  YOUR  FEEBLE  FLESH,  I  SNEER  AT
YOUR TINY BONES, I COULD CRUSH YOU LIKE A WORM UNDER A ROCK, YOU
ARE WITHOUT HOPE, YOU SHALL SUFFER ETERNALLY BEFORE YOUR DEATH!
He saw a shape, a mist of shadows rising to take the form of a giant male torso and
arms . . . clawed black fists and a skull like a ram with twisted black horns . . . its eyes were
endless caverns of flame . . . still he fell, through endless darkness,  and the great shadow with
eyes of flame pursued him as he fell . . . the pain became unbearable .
Glimmer!
—Jarien also loved to hunt with the spear, for he was named after many Heroes of the
ancient world who had also been named Jarien, and in each life they took the legendary title
of Stonespear. His father even told him often during his younger years that Jarien was in fact
the true reincarnation of those ancient Heroes of Will, a  man  who  is bound by  fate to  the
Hero Chains and the Great Cycle, for his fa ther was told this by a Reader when Jarien was
first born, the Ael Tarael telling Johrdios that the soul of a Hero dwelt in his son, and that he
would one day become a legend of the Age of Heroes also, within time.
Jarien did not truly believe this when he became older, for he had never remembered
anything from a past life he was supposed to have lived, though his father told him bedtime
stories of all the ancient Heroes of Will, but Jarien‘s favourite stories were of course always
about the Hero Jarien Stonespear. Despite his doubts that  he really was this  man of  legend
reborn, Jarien hoped to one day live up to the legend by fulfilling his proclaimed destiny.
Glimmer!
. . . Adem   felt as  if  he were being  whipped, beaten, and burnt all at once  while his
bon es were ground into dust . . . then he sensed Jean, her mind and his connected through the
kigare  . . . he could not hear her thoughts, but he could sense her feelings, she too felt pain,
but it was not physical pain, it was suffering, as if his pain made  her suffer . . . images entered
his mind from hers. . . images that translated into words . . . the words he could make out of it
were . . . It is not real! You must fight!
Glimmer!
Jarien  Stonespear  was  many  men,  though  only  one  man  also,  and  throughout  his
memories of past lives, the one that haunted him most was during the Rokhal Wars, when he
watched his family being slaughtered by Rokhal in the small village where he was raised. He
had survived only for the fact that he had been out hunting with the s pear when the Rokhal
invaded  his  village,  and  he  had  rushed back  to  investigate when  he saw smoke  from that
direction,  returning  with  stealth  to  peer  from  the  forest‘s  edge,  where  he  witnessed  that
terrible fate for his mother, father, sisters and brothers .
In that lifetime he had been second named Atelgoroth, born of the Torvellen Clans at
the Dawn of the Age of Heroes. He lived with the horror of those memories for a further sixty
years, until he finally attempted to avenge his family by marching to the East Lands with only
a host of companions to fight at his side, and on the fourth week of battle, his soul returned to
the  Underworld  and  to  Chains.  Yet  the  fully  grown  reincarnation  known  as  Jarien
Trahvesnihiel  was  more than proud of  the sacrifice of Jarien  Atelgoroth,  for  his  memories
were  vivid of  the tens of thousands of demons that bathed  the scorched Eastland soil with
their dark blood, as they were ripped to shreds by the Stonespear and the Elemental Magic of
the  Legendary  Hero  of  Will.  It  was  upon  t his  memory  that  Jarien  Trahvesnihiel  built  his
ambition to be remembered for such valour, and upon this heartache that he forged his hatred
for the Shadow, and his thirst  for revenge, even  for a  man who  he  had never known,  yet a
man who was also a part of  his very soul.
Glimmer!
Ade m reached for the Power, avalanches of fire and rivers of snow filled his soul, the
taint was so foul here it made the pain seem like a minor flesh wound, then the pain vanished,
though he still fell,  the Dark One looming over him as they descended into flames . . . Adem
shouted a word,  it was  in the  immortal  language . . . the word translated to . . . ―Blades of
Odin!‖
Lightning  launched  from  his  hands to  slice through the  huge  muscular torso of  the
Dark One, blue bolts shaped  like huge swords  that  lanced  upwards again and again, blades
thirty feet long that tore burning blue wounds through the Dark One . . . the Dark One roared,
the sound like a thousand growling wolves, still they fell, still the Blades of Odin launched
upwards  from his open palms . . . he saw more images in his mind sent by Jean through the
kigare . . . the words were,  You can fly, Adem!
Glimmer!
Jarien Atelgoroth only ever loved one woman in his lifetime, an Elf girl he had grown
up with in the same village w here his family was murdered. The youngling girl—Elsalos was
her  name—had been taken captive by the Rokhal  to be stored  in a cage  for their cook pots
when moving on the roads and fields in their relentless campaigns of pillaging, murder and
rape.
Jarien co uld not bear to see another of his kin murdered, and his love for this girl was
the strongest emotion he had ever experienced. It had even been considered by their parents
that the pair should wed when they were fully grown, and these thoughts stirred emot ions in
Jarien that overpowered his fears, and so he set out on the road to track the Rokhal horde and
seek his chance to rescue his beloved.
The journey was long and hard for him, though his Torvellen blood was akin to the
fleet  footed swiftness of  not on ly the ancient Aelfin, but also  their Dremelden  Wood Kin
cousins, and he moved like a phantom across the hills, fields and valleys, remaining hidden
by shrub, tree and boulder, as he tracked the hoof prints of the horde for many days, each day
half terrified that he would be too late to save dear Elsalos.
One night Jarien  found the  horde camped by a riverside  in a deep  valley,  where  he
crept towards their perimeter with stealth in the shadows, although the moon was bright that
night, though he could not risk another day, as he had found cook pots along the journey, and
he  had  searched  the  remains  in  terror  of  finding  some  remnant  of  Elsalos‘  clothing  or
jewellery, and he was trembling though relieved that he did not.
He  had  not  stopped  to eat at all that da y, and so  he  moved  to a berry  shrub  to put
something in his stomach to avoid it making any grumbling noises as he searched the camp
with Elven eyesight, spying for any sign of the cages where he might hope to see his darling
Elsalos.
A Grimwel  guard  was pa trolling  nearby, and  when the  little  goblin creature passed
within range, Jarien had a very clever idea. He had spotted some cages near the centre of the
camp, and had up till now been dreading the suicidal mission he would be forced to attempt,
however th e goblin guard brought a potentially lifesaving opportunity.
He snuck up  upon the guard using Wood Kin  hunting  strategy, which was  made all
the  easier  for  the  fact  that  the  Grimwel  wore  a  heavy  iron  helmet  that  blocked  its  vision
anywhere but straight ahead, with a face guard and pointed horns rising from the helm. This
Jarien realised, would provide him with the perfect disguise.
He used his hunting blade to slit the little creature‘s throat, and after dragging it into
the nearby bushes, found that its clo thing and helmet fit him quite well. He realised his Elven
spear and bow might give him away, so he bundled them up with his clothes and left them
hidden some distance from the dead Grimwel, though he could not spare the time to bury the
creature.  He  did  n ot  want  to  use  the  goblin‘s  sword  sheath  for  his  hunting  knife  either,
because the goblin blade might have been dipped in poison, so his only option was to take the
little sword and  horn shaped bow and quiver, as  he casually stepped back out  from  hiding,
and continued to march on his patrol.
Glimmer!
Adem shouted another word in the Immortal Tongue, the words translated to, ―Wings
of  Odin!‖   Wings  of  blue  flame  blossomed  on  either  side  of  his  form,  rising  out  of  his
shoulder blades to span the length of two  horses! Instantly he soared upwards, slicing a hole
straight through the chest of the Dark One with four of his Blades of Odin, through its back
and  up  through  the  eternal  pits  of  darkness  he  flew  .  .  .  the  Dark  One  pursued  him  .  .  .
shouting his name . .  . shouting that he would die . . . the great claw reached up for him . . .
darkness . . .
***
Carl sat  in the saddle . . . though  he was  not Carl,  he was another  man, a  man of ancient
history . . . the scene below the  hillside, where  he and  his ten  thous and  Red  Blood  Guard
were  mounted, was  miles of patchwork  farmland  fields, brown,  green, and  yellow squares,
with tens of thousands of demons covering those fields. The sky was covered in thick dark
clouds, and lightning occasionally fell in thick forks.
He sat in the saddle of a beast that was something like a horse and more like a dragon,
scaled  hide  with a  sinuous  neck and tail,  spiked plates rising  from  its spine and  the sleek
smooth skull of a crocodile. The creature was bronze  in  colour  with  large gre en eyes.  The
dragon - horse was calm despite the rising tides of Nymloc, Jacoulra, Rahkwel, and Souljhin.
It turned its snout to regard him with those large emerald eyes before making a determined
snorting  sound  through  its  nostrils  where  grey  smoke  rose  in  tendrils.  He  had  raised  the
sheindhal –  that was its true name – since it was a hatchling.
No, that was not Carl‘s memories. They were another man‘s memories . . . the man‘s
name was . . . beasts swept up  from beyond the dark  mountain ranges that rose beh ind the
demon army,  serpentine beasts  with  wings, the span of  four  horses;  they  were  lizard - type
creatures with red- scaled hides and the webbed skin inside their bat- like wings was yellow.
They were the  korodo  dragons, the men who rode them were warriors  of Koro, a city
that had once stood on the boarders of the East Lands, three thousand years ago . . . though
this was that time . . . what was he doing here? It was impossible! Hundreds of  korodo soared
through the skies, sweeping down over the demon army  as the dragons breathed  long thick
streams of golden - orange fire through their ranks. Carl began shouting orders to his men . . .
his words were different . . . they were in the Immortal Tongue . . . though this man . . . this
man that was Carl but not Carl was not an  immortal;  he was Josel Stormshield, High  Lord
General of the Western Spears, Commander of the Neij- Heik Sept of Fireblades, Wielder of
the Spear of Justice, and Steward of the Council of Crowns.
He  had  other  titles,  though  there  were  so  many  they  coalesced  in  a  swirling  of
colourful  images before  his eyes, sigils of Red Hawks, Jade  Blades, Silver  Hammers, and
many  more. As Josel  gave his commands, Carl  felt  his  mind  flooded with the  memories of
this ancient warrior. Josel‘s entire life flashed  before Carl‘s eyes, and with every image came
every memory that Josel Stormshield had ever lived.
The information Carl received was a thousand times more valuable than anything he
had learnt so far; this was because he was living those experiences, so he   learnt through his
losses and his victories first hand. Every dream, every heartache, every love, every battle, it
all  flowed  up  into  his  mind  until  he  was  no  longer  just  Carl  Wilder,  he  was  also  Josel
Stormshield. He drew his blade of emerald flame and held it aloft as he shouted, ―Hold Pikes!
Hold Spears! Hold  Blades! Unleash  Arrows of Flame!‖ The sky was  filled  with shafts of
coloured flame that flew from three thousand Lukrorian Bows. The arrows hailed down upon
the demon ranks to punch holes through d ark flesh and hammer the beasts into the earth.
―Alit‘aren! Unleash Fire Serpents!‖ Lightning bolts thick as a man‘s leg fell from the
sky, like slithering pythons, a dozen bolts, then a hundred, then a thousand blue Fire Serpents.
The  snakes  of  fire  tore  through  the  bodies  of  demons  to  spread  in  every  direction,  like  a
spider- web pattern of blue  flames. Demons began to explode as they  were touched by  the
strands of blue  light, thick pythons of  flame that devoured demon  flesh.  Yet  suddenly  the
demon army began to push forwards up the mountain side, a mass of black bodies with claws
like lions. ―Hold Pikes! Hold Spears! Hold Blades!‖ Carl shouted, as the demon army began
to close the gap between his first lines of armoured pikemen.
Two thousand pikes formed  a row along the base of the mountain side; they held the
dimly shining steel at an angle in wait of their commands. The demons were fifty paces off,
no thirty, no twenty, ―Ready Pikes!‖ Carl bellowed, his men lowered their pikes to face the
charging demon s, then carnage, bodies collided in a clash of steel and roars like lions, men
screamed  as  they  were  torn  to  shreds  by  massive  black  claws.  ―Push  Pikes!‖  Carl
commanded, and two thousand pikes tore through demon  flesh, pushing  them back, cutting
them in tw o with heavy spikes and half- moon axe blades. ―Unleash Fire Arrows!‖
Carl roared, and a hail of coloured light fell upon the demon ranks as they pushed at
the wall of pikemen. ―Unleash Fire Boulders!‖ Balls of fire flew over the Red Blood Guard
from the weavings of the Alit‘aren; balls that destroyed a hundred demons with every strike.
But  the pikemen  were weakening,  ―Push  Blades! Push Spears!‖ Carl commanded, and  the
remaining  five  thousand  men  swarmed  down  the  hillside  to  fortify  the  front  lines,  spears
piercing demon flesh, blades of fire hacking and slashing through skulls and torsos.
Carl was about to  give another command when  the scene before  him  vanished  in a
swirl of darkness and coloured light . . . when he regained vision once more . . . he stood   in a
castle . . . fire licked the tapestries and paintings that lined the grey stone walls, even the red
carpet that lined the floor was burning, smoke filled his nostrils and made him retch until he
weaved a spell of Air around his face like a helmet . . . that spell . . . it had come from another
man  .  .  .  that  man‘s  name  was  Alfrid  Corbalt,  an  ancient  Alit‘aren  and  High  Druid  of
Kolindstadt, an ancient kingdom of mortals. Again he was living the life of a long dead hero
of Kismerian history.
He could not remember how he got here, he was with his friends . . . and then . . . a
Nymloc scurried around the corner to halt before him in the hallway, human torso, arms and
legs of black tar, a ram skulled head with twisted bull horns and eyes of red flame. It r oared
like a small lion and then began to charge . . . Carl unleashed a stream of red fire that flew in
a thick bar to strike the creature between the eyes, flames burst from its form, it collapsed in a
vortex of smoke and fire. When Carl wove that spell .  . . the memories of Alfrid Corbalt filled
his mind, every dream and every battle . . . his mind was being filled with memories of dead
men! He learnt thousands of spells in those moments that Alfrid‘s life flashed before his eyes;
he had the Power of a High Druid. Another bull- horned Nymloc charged towards him, and he
wrapped  the  creature  in  blue  fire  that  devoured  its  flesh  in  seconds,  the  charred  remains
falling before him in a heap.
Then his vision was awash with swirling darkness and light . . . and he was another
man  .  .  .  Sedril  Jelden,  Commander  of  the  Wave  Wind  clans,  Wielder  of  the  Sword  of
Teverok . . . Carl absorbed the man‘s memories . . . then swirling darkness and light . . . he
was Charl Bloodblade . . . he took his memories unto his own . .  . he lived the lives and took
the memories of hundreds of dead warriors . . . no thousands . . . it continued for days . . . for
weeks . . . swirling darkness and light . . . for eternity . . .
***
Darkness . . . Adem flew up through acid smoke for what seemed an eternity . . . four Blades
of Odin . . . forming a diamond . . . he flew upwards through the blades of blue fire . . . to
escape the claws of the Dark One . . . the Dark One roared  like a sea of  lions . . . I WILL
CRUSH YOU, SON OF ODIN! YOU ARE  WEAK! YOU ARE PATHETIC!  YOU  ARE
NOTHING! Upwards he soared through an endless pit of darkness, the huge dark form of the
Dark One pursuing him upwards . . . Blades of Odin, falling to gouge the eye of the Dark One
. . . the Dark One  howled  like a  thousand  wolves . . . Adem saw a  light above . . .  light
flooded  his  soul,  enveloping  him  in  a  brilliant  white  glow  .  .  .  he  felt  endless  bliss  .  .  .
darkness . . . endless pain . . . the Dark One roared . . .
***
Wil stood in a field of green pasture with yellow  and blue flowers, a cool wind blew across
his skin, a wide river flowed to the south, the Eldrinenin, a sacred river of the Wood Kin . . .
but Wil was not himself today . . . he was another man . . . Koldin Sarafand was his name . . .
he was an immortal .  . . one of the Dremelden . . . tall and slender with large green eyes and
jet - black hair, a gold worked green Lukrorian Bow in his hand with an arrow of green flame
notched and ready to  fire,  he was dressed  in animal skins of browns and  greys,  large dark
symbols tattooed to his arms . . . this was not the first immortal Wil had lived the life of since
. . . since  when? Where  were  his  friends?  The Archway!  They  had entered the Chameleon
Arch . . . and then . . . darkness . . . endless pain . . . he pushed those thoughts aside . . . there
were demons  in  the  field, dark- scaled and tar- like  muscular  human  forms crouched  in  the
long grasses, staring with eyes of coloured flame . . . Wil  –  or Koldin – shouted commands in
the Immortal  Tongue . . . hundreds of  Dreme lden Wood Kin began  to sprout  up out of the
grasses with arrows of flame notched to bowstrings.  
As  Wil  unleashed  an  arrow  of  flame  aimed  at  the  skull  of  a  Jacoulra  .  .  .  he  saw
Koldin Sarafand‘s entire  life  flash before  his eyes . . . it  happened so  fast  the arrow didn‘t
strike  the  skull  of  the  demon  until  Wil  had  seen  Koldin‘s  death  .  .  .  this  wasn‘t  the  first
lifetime Wil had seen flash before his eyes since he entered this place . . . all were the lives of
immortals . . .  mostly  Dremelden  though some No rdics and Torvellen . . .  mostly archers
though  from  each  he  learnt  new  skills  with  all  manner  of  weapons  .  .  .  many  of  the
Dremelden could speak to animals . . . command them to fight for them . . . Wil  –  Koldin –
shouted a  word that sounded  like  a wild b ear, then  hundreds of  wolves rose  up out of  the
grasslands, then there were thousands of wolves; they charged towards the demons and tore
out their throats with massive jaws and claws . . .
***
Jean rode in the saddle of a white  altherin  horse; Kindle was the name of the mare, this was
the  future  .  .  .  not  the  first  future  she  had  lived  through  since  .  .  .  since,  she  could  not
remember how this started . . . just that she wished it would end soon . . . the lives she had
lived seemed an infinity of eternit ies stacked one atop another, she felt that she had not slept
for a thousand lifetimes . . . in every future she was always herself, always Jean Fairsythe, the
Daughter of Thor,  the White Snow Fox, the Saviour of Kismeria.  And  in every  future, she
saw  disaster  for  this  world,  great  armies  massed  across  the  Free  Lands  doing  battle  with
Alit‘aren  gone  mad  from the taint.  They would be known as the Wars of  Lost Hope that
destroyed the Free Lands and destroyed Kismeria.
And  in  every  future  she  saw,  Adem,  Carl,  and  Wil  were  eventually  also  turned  to
madness from the taint, betraying their own kind in a bloodbath of battles. The scene she saw
below  the  mountain  where  she  sat  was  an  army  of  fifty  thousand  soldiers,  including
thousands  of  Alit‘aren  and  Ael  Tarael,  fighting  Adem,  Carl,  and  Wil,  their  Battle  Angels
wreaking havoc upon the army of mortal and immortal men. It was hopeless! What could she
do to stop them? In every future, she massed her armies to try to capture and Heal her friends,
but in every future,  she was defeated, her armies were defeated; it was the beginning of the
Age of Chaos. How could she stop this? Did she have to fight those three on her own? That
would be futile, even with her Battle Angels to protect her.
The only choice  in every  future  she saw was to execute the Sons of Odin. But they
were the Saviours of Kismeria. Without them, there was no hope of Salvation. Each time she
saw Adem‘s blood spilled, and he and his friends falling and dying, she heard the Dark One‘s
laughter, and the Dark  One said, YOU HAVE LOST, SONS OF ODIN! YOU HAVE LOST,
DAUGHTER OF THOR! In some of those  future  lives, she was Adem‘s  lover,  loving  him
until he turned mad and then still loving him after he became a reckless monster . . . in some
of those lives, she drove a dagger through his heart to stop him turning mad and destroying
the world . . . she won a thousand battles, lived a thousand lifetimes, she fought, she loved,
she tried, she failed, and each time she heard the Dark One‘s laughter, every time she heard
his  taunting  words  .  .  .  YOU  HAVE  LOST,  SONS  OF  ODIN!  YOU  HAVE  LOST,
DAUGHTER OF THOR!
***
Carl  stood  on  the  battlefields  of  Kohn‘Shard  Hills,  a  land  populated  by  mortals  of  the
Hardark Rohn clans, expert swordsmen, archers, and wielders. Carl had gotten  used to living
the lives of dead men from Kismerian history, though this was not the past, and he was not
some dead hero of  legend,  he was Carl Wilder, Son of Odin and Saviour of Kismeria, this
was the future . . . a hundred thousand soldiers formed a wed ge around him and his hundred
Blood  Guard  Alit‘aren,  four  hundred  more Alit‘aren also  made  up  the ranks . . . a demon
army covered  the Kohn‘Shard Hills  like a sea of black  lava, Nymloc and Jacoulra, Rokhal
and Souljhin . . . a horn sounded,  then  from  the south an army of  immortals rode over the
hills  behind  the  demon  army,  fifty  thousand  warriors,  including  the  Nordics  and  the
Dremelden,  thousands  of  Guardians  and  Alit‘aren  amongst  them,  Carl  raised  his  looking
glass towards the army . . . it was Wil Martyr  who rode at their head!
Their minds connected through the kigare . . . the psychic connection shared since the
first  time  their  Battle  Angels  Linked  .  .  .  the  transfer  of  information  was  not  words,  but
images that  were  interpreted as  words . . . Carl  ask ed:  Where  is Adem?  We can’t do this
without him!
A flash of light burst into view in the sky to the west, a blue bolt of flame that soared across
the skies towards the demon army, then a blast of blue flames erupted from above, falling like
a giant claw of  flames that vaporized thousands of demons with its first strike! Carl raised his
looking glass to see a black- garbed figure with wings of blue fire as the source of the attack!
It was Adem Highlander!
It’s Adem!   Carl sent through the  kigare.  Adem can fly!   He has come to save us!  The
blue- winged figure did a double loop in a figure eight through the sky and then pointed his
hands  towards the demons below. Swords of blue  light,  fifty  feet  long  in  the blade,  lanced
from his open palms to crash into the thick  of the demon ranks. As the blades of fire burnt
into the earth  like  lightning, blue fire spread outwards  in huge waves that devoured tens of
thousands of the black- scaled beasts. Carl began to shout commands to his soldiers, arrows
filled the sky, black sh afts of steel and wood sent from crossbows, along with thousands of
the arrows of coloured flame.
Wil also gave the command and the Dremelden warriors unleashed hail of fire from
their  Lukrorian  Bows.  Balls  of  fire  began  to  fall  on  to  the  demon  army  from  the  linked
Alit‘aren, burning  through  hundreds of demons  with every strike.  Then  the Dark One  rose
from the heart of the demon army, the dark torso and limbs of a muscular man with the skull
of a black ram with bull horns, eyes of endless flames . . . and  with the rise of the Dark Lord,
all the land was covered in darkness, only the burning eyes of the demon army could be seen
in that blackness, Adem‘s blue wings lit up the sky as he soared over the Dark One throwing
down blades of fire and bolts of lightning . . . the laughter of the Dark One filled Carl‘s ears .
. . YOU HAVE LOST, SON OF ODIN! The Dark One bellowed in a voice, like crumbling
bones and rotting flesh. Then Carl was home, on Earth, Adem and Wil were with him, and
they were all together in a field by a river, he thought they had made it home . . . then the sun
was blocked by the moon, all was cast in darkness . . . spirits began to rise from the field, evil
spectres  of  blue  light,  thousands  of  ghosts  .  .  .  hundreds  of  thousands  .  .  .  the  Dark  O ne
laughed . . . YOU HAVE LOST, SON OF ODIN!
He lived his life over a thousand times or more . . . every time the Dark One taunted
his failure at the end . . . he fought for Kismeria . . . he fought Adem in a hundred battles . . . a
hundred times a hundred battles . . . when his friend was mad from the taint . . . he fought
Adem on Earth, two mortal men beating each other with their fists, because Adem would not
forget  about  Kismeria  .  .  .  would  not  forget  the  Great  Battle  .  .  .  he  stayed  on  Earth  and
watched over his wife and child until he was old and grey a thousand times, a thousand times
. . . and each time, he felt his pulse slipping away and his breath failing for the final time, the
Dark One shouted, YOU HAVE LOST AGAIN, SON OF ODIN!
***
Darkness . . . endless pain . . . he was burning alive . . . he couldn‘t breathe . . . he sensed Jean
through the kigare . . .  You must fight, Adem! Blades of Odin . . . he flew upwards through the
heart of the Dark One with four blades of fire protecting him in a  diamond, Wings of Odin
carried  him  high  into  the blackness  towards  the tunnel of  light.  The Dark One roared . . .
YOU WILL DIE SLOWLY, SON OF ODIN! PAIN WILL BE YOUR BLESSING BEFORE
THE END! Blades of Odin  falling down  from  his open palms to strike the top   of the  Dark
One‘s skull, two blades, then four, then six, and then eight, fifty- feet - long blades that glowed
with the Light of Odin.
The blades swirled into a vortex within the heart and skull of the Dark One. The Dark
One roared in outrage. Lightning burst from the Blades of Odin, thick blue bolts that swirled
around the Dark One‘s form like giant fire pythons. The Dark One began to fall, into eternal
darkness. Adem soared towards the light above with the Wings of Odin carrying him like a
great eagle.  Rings of  light surrounded  him  in the darkness, then  light enveloped  his  form,
bathing him in its bliss, he shouted one word, ―Victory!‖
Chapter
11
The Saviours Reborn
Adem collapsed . . . blurred black and white squares filled his vision . . . he was bat hed in
sweat . . . his breathing  laboured . . . he looked  up . . . Tobin and Orion stood over him, a
smile on the kings‘ faces. Orion reached out with his right hand, ―Welcome, Son of Odin, you
are reborn of blood and battle, of  horror and turmoil, of  hope   and  justice, of courage and
honour. Rise Son of Odin! Rise and receive the blessings of the Immortal Kings, for you are
the fate of Kismeria. You are home, Adem Highlander.‖
Adem took Orion‘s hand –  only for ceremony –  and pushed himself up to try to sta nd.
His legs were like boiled water and his knees ached, but finally, he was standing tall with his
back straight, though he still felt quite dizzy. He turned to see Jean kneeling before Lydia and
Elmira. Lydia spoke the Rights of Passage  for Jean,  ―Welcome, Daughter of  Thor,  you are
reborn of love and war, of hate and retribution, of disaster and despair, of wisdom and fate.
Rise Daughter of Thor! Rise and receive the blessings of the Immortal Queens, for you are
the hope of Kismeria. You are home, Jean Fa irsythe.‖
Jean  looked  just  as  exhausted  as  she  made  her  first  attempt  to  stand,  then  taking
Elmira and Lydia by the hand, she was hauled to her feet to stand proudly with a light in her
eyes and a darkness that Adem had never seen in her before. He immedi ately wanted to ask
her what she had seen, what she had lived through, though it was forbidden. When she looked
at him, he sensed deep love and endless hate for him through the  kigare.
What did she see? he wondered.  Why would she hate me?
His  love  for  her  had  grown a thousand  times as  he  had  lived all  those  lives, and  in
every life, he had loved her and made love to her. The soft touch of her skin against his own
was a memory that burnt through his consciousness. Made his blood rise, made him weak and
strong at the same time. But they were just fleeting moments inside the Archway, a lifetime
in a heartbeat. What had she experienced that would make her feel such a way?
It took him a moment to realise that his wings were gone. The Power still filled him to
the brink  however. He  was on  edge,  nervous,  and anxious but also calm and at peace.  He
released the Power and felt the eternal bliss slip from his soul, though he was glad to be free
of the taint that had consumed him inside the Arch. 
Carl was next to fall from the doorway of light, followed by Wil, both collapsing in a
heap before the Immortal Kings welcomed them with the Rights of Passage and helped them
to stand. How many more lifetimes had they seen during those moments after Adem had first
emerged from the Arch? What terrors did they know? What secrets had they learnt? Did they
trust him more now, or less? Were they willing to fight till the end or did they want to turn
and  flee? No! They were the Saviours reborn; they  were the  fate of Kismeria. They  would
fight till their last breath.
The  days  that  followed  were  filled  with  meetings  with  Alit‘aren  and  Ael  Tarael,
captains, generals, lords and ladies, meetings to plan the battle, plans to win the war. Adem,
Carl, Wil, and  Jean were  in every  meeting  together  with the  Immortal Kings and Queens,
huge  maps of the Free  Lands covered the  huge carved wooden desks within  each Meeting
Chamber, including the War Chamber, where a map of the entire Free Lands was displayed
on the floor made up of a tile mosaic. Statues  from a large game of  mohrthra’daeghal  stood
three feet high, horses, soldiers, wielders, rulers, marking out the lands and the state of their
rule or disorder.
Lord Kelderath  was  in  that  meeting, dressed  in crimson armour embossed with  the
Golden Owl upon  the chest like his Heart Guard soldiers who stood behind him in a line. He
held his conical crimson helmet by his side with his Blademaster sword at his hip. The man
was pompous arrogance right down to his core, though he knew more about battle than Arig
Flamebow it seemed. He pointed to the chess pieces that symbolised armies and positioned
them  in  places  that  Adem  had  never  envisaged  before.  His  strategies  for  taking  out  mad
Alit‘aren were as cunning as a fox sneaking into the hen house. His tactics for  battle against
the farmer armies of the Revolution were bolder but equally as succinct.
The rest listened to Kelderath as if they were receiving a lecture from a great scholar.
Even  Lord  Farrigan  and  Lady  Gwyndel  listened  attentively  and  gave  little  interr uption  or
discord to  his plans. Arig and  Terese seemed to  hold  the  man  in reverence even after their
first meeting in the War Chamber. Adem thought they saw Kelderath as a great ally, someone
who they could depend on, someone they could trust.
Lord Maldros and Lord Denel argued with Kelderath‘s plans however. It was hard to
decide who was the most pompous of the three, as they poked at the statues with a finger or a
stick,  giving  orders,  suggesting  strategies  that  they  assumed  would  be  followed,  and
disagreeing with one another until it seemed these meetings would outlast the war. But they
were all great captains in their own right, each had something to offer that the other seemed
to have missed; all were of great value to Adem.
Each could see  things that  were crucial to a clean  victory,  though how clean  would
remain to be seen. The basic plan was to split up into four separate armies, each led by one of
the  Saviours.  Adem  wasn‘t  sure  about  the  idea  of  dividing  the  strength  of  the  Sons  and
Daughter, though Kelderath insisted it was the only way his plan could work.
They would approach each of the rebel armies with three to trap them into a hold or
keep with the fourth Saviour army to attack from the rear. The idea was that the rebel army
would attempt to flee, only to be routed and forced to submit or be slaughtered. None of these
men wanted to destroy these farmer armies; they wanted to overwhelm them and force them
into submission, quick, clean, and painless, in theory anyway. 
The reason  for dividing  the  four Saviours up  into  leading  the  individual armies  was
that they were the only bearers of Battle Angels within the entire army. Orion had explained
that Battle Angels were hard to find since the Immortal Wars, when Battle Angels fought for
both  the  mortals  and  immortals.  The  Angels  were  so  disgusted  with  the  bloodshed  they
witnessed and were made to partake in during those years that many left to find other Resting
Points where they would not be forced to fight.
Orion said some of those Resting Points were  enchanted stones found throughout the
lands, and that no mortal or immortal wielder had been able to draw those Battle Angels out
of those Resting Points since they abandoned  mankind. Other Resting Points could  include
relics, artefacts, and  trinkets, suc h as jewellery, prayer stones,  statues,  and  in some cases,
enchanted weapons that lay deep in underground treasure tombs.
The need for Resting Points had not been clearly explained to Adem so far; however,
he  understood  it  had something to do  with the Powe r of  the  Dark One.  The  Great Angels
were  becoming  weaker  throughout  the  Ages  due  to  the  growing  Power  of  the  Dark  One
within the elements of Kismeria. As Adem understood it, this meant his Battle Angel would
not be the same when he returned to Kismeria a t housand years or more in the future. What
these changes would be he did not understand; however, he assumed it meant Arawn would
be smaller and weaker, perhaps  more  human, as Orion  had explained that the Dark One‘s
Power was turning the Great Angels into creatures of the flesh.
So the Resting Points were necessary to slow this process of infection from the Dark
One‘s Powers. This was separate from the taint; however, it was a Power that infected both
male and female Great Angels. Rather than tainting the elements, it drew from the Power of
the  elements,  making  the  Dark  One  stronger.  The  result  of  this  was  that  the  Powers  of
Kismeria were being taken away  from the  Great Angels,  Earth, Fire, Water,  Air, and Spirit
were losing their essence and force.
This was  a process that the Dark One had created during the First Age, and the Great
Angels began to diminish in their Power ever since.
The  plan  for  dealing  with  the  mad  Alit‘aren  was  something  different  entirely.  For  those
battles,  the  Saviours  would  be  united  so  that  their  Battle  Angels  could  link  whenever
necessary.  Unfortunately  for  the  mad  Alit‘aren,  the  plan  was  to  crush  them  by  whatever
means possible. Capture was an option but not a designated plan of action. The first choice of
action for dealing with these tainted souls was death.
Adem didn‘t like the idea, and he was sure his friends felt the same way, though the
other  option  was  to  allow  these  madmen  to  kill  hundreds  or  even  thousands  of  innocent
people as they ravaged the landscape with the Power.
Despite this plan,  nearly  half the  number of Alit‘aren and  Ael  Tarael available at Nordhel
would be joining the armies to try to overpower the madmen and sever them from  teron.
This  was  quite  simple  in  theory  due  to  the  strength  of  numbers  against  the  few;
ho wever, it was difficult to block a wielder‘s abilities once they already held the Power. Four
was  the  standard  number  of  wielders  for  blocking  a  single  Alit‘aren  or  Ael  Tarael  from
holding on to the Power. Sixteen were necessary to sever the wielder from u sing the Power
ever again. A  very strong  wielder could escape the  shields of  up to  twenty Alit‘aren even
before they  held the Power, though  if they  held the Power  it could require all twenty to be
linked to effectively block the wielder. Though this was a  standard training rule amongst the
wielders, in truth, a strong Alit‘aren could block thirty Ael Tarael from wielding with the aid
of a Battle  Angel or an enchanted device  that enhances  their ability, and  vice  versa. It all
depended on the  strength of the  wielder.  It  was  more  complex than  a spider‘s web over a
honeycomb, though Adem did his best to learn all that he could.
Adem tried  to argue  that they should be trying  to capture all  the  mad  Alit‘aren to
question them and study their  illness to better understand  its effects. He did not want to be
responsible for so many deaths, and he argued for the sake of Carl and his religious beliefs. In
the heat of battle it could not be called murder, but what if there was a way to avoid killing
these men? Would it not   be more humane to try to preserve these warriors who had served
the people and the Lord? Severing their abilities was an assured death sentence regardless of
whether  it was  immediate or prolonged, as wielders could not  live  long without the Power.
But if  they were spared and studied, they would still have value and provide a service to the
people before their deaths.
Adem argued this point with Orion and Tobin for days following the meetings in the
War Chamber, and although both kings agreed, it would be wise to draw up a proclamation
that ensured capture was the first method of approach against mad Alit‘aren; the dangers to
their armies outweighed the cost of those few lives.
―But  soon  it will be  more  than a  few!‖ Adem argued.  ―Soon  it could be the entire
nation of Alit‘aren who have turned mad. You yourselves are at risk, even I am. What will
the  law  be  when  the  Immortal  Kings  and  the  Sons  of  Odin  have  become  a  risk  to  the
innocent? We  must study these  madmen. We  must try to puzzle out a  way  to reverse  the
effects. If we cannot halt or cure the taint on the Power, then all hope is lost.‖
The two kings thought long and hard on this issue, then eventually they agreed that a
proclamation to ensure the safety of all mad Alit‘aren was the only option. The procla mation
would state  that killing a  mad Alit‘aren  when capture was an option would be declared as
murder. Punishment  for  such crimes  would be determined based on the circumstances, but
the law would state that capture was the primary objective. This did not  sit well with many of
the captains and generals, but the word of an Immortal King was law for all nations to abide.
So the battle plan was altered,  Alit‘aren and Ael  Tarael would be  linked with  up to
twenty  in  each  circle  to  try  to  overpower  the  mad  Alit‘ aren  without  killing  them.  The
proclamation stated that a trial would be set up for each man infected by the taint to the point
of madness, before they were severed from  teron  and watched over for the rest of their short
lives. It was a cruel fate, but the  alternatives were much worse. It was still uncertain whether
the taint would actually kill a man, or whether he would remain mad for as long as the Power
preserved his body. A mortal wielder could live for hundreds of years with  teron  to preserve
his fles h; mortal Alit‘aren were recorded to live up to six hundred years or more.
This presented enough difficulties  without considering  the  immortals, they  lived  for
eternity  unless  badly  wounded  or  poisoned  without  receiving  Healing  in  time.  However,
endless wars had ensured that no immortal lived to this day, who was older than a thousand
years. Adem was unsure of the age of the Immortal Kings and Queens, though he suspected
they  were  at  least  many  hundreds  of  years  old,  by  the  wisdom  in  their  eyes  and  the
knowledge they professed.
Tobin and Orion often spoke of ancient battles as  if they  had been there.  Lydia and
Elmira also  spoke of  history as  if they  had  lived  it  rather  than  studied.  The Queens were
younger though,  he  was  not sure  how  much  younger though  he  knew that  much  from  his
discussions with Jean.
Some faults in the plan included the fact that there would be no  ki’mera  gained from
fighting farmers and Alit‘aren. Only demons could provide the precious orbs for fuelling the
Battle  Angels.  Therefore,  the  p roblem  was  figuring  out  when  it  would  be  necessary  to
summon their Battle Angels, and at  what cost? The result could be that their  Battle Angels
were completely drained of  ki’mera  and barely able to fight when they were actually facing
demons.
The  solutio n  for  this  was  the  suggestion  that  the  Saviours  rely  only  on  their  own
abilities to  wield rather  than resorting to  summoning their  Battle Angels. It  was suggested
that  summoning  may  become  necessary,  though  the  altered  plan  was  to  avoid  that  option
whenever possible.
This altered plan suited Adem and his friends more than the original, as they believed
involving  the  Battle  Angels  would  result  in  a  bloodbath  of  farmers  and  veterans.  Adem
wanted to hold to his vow that he would not kill a man if there was another way to stop them.
Tying up the entire farmer army in flows of Air had been suggested, though few Alit‘aren or
Ael Tarael were strong enough in the Power of Air to hold more than a handful at a time, and
this made it difficult to perform other spells a t the same time.
This was also the case with Adem and his friends; Air was not a strong point for them,
Fire  and  Earth  was.  They  had  been  trained  to  become  weapons,  to  fight  demons,  but  the
enemy they faced now was their kin. Adem spent those days trying  to think of a solution that
would  save  hundreds of  thousands of  lives.  How to overpower the  farmer armies  without
slaughtering them? Negotiation seemed the most sensible answer. He presented this notion to
the Immortal Kings who discussed  it  with Kelderath, Maldros, and Morthros.  Apparently,
negotiation  had  always  been  their  first  option  as  was  common  of  war.  If  peace  could  be
agreed  upon  without  bloodshed,  the  noble  and  righteous  would  grant  peace.  These  men
prepared for what they would have to do if peace could not be agreed upon.
One  thing  Adem  and  his  friends  noticed  since  they  were  reborn  through  the
Chameleon Arch  was that they were all  much stronger  in the Power. Adem  felt  it when  he
first came out of the Archway, though  he became  more aware of  this  i ncrease  in abilities
during  his training over  the  following days. He was  now as strong on  his own,  as  he  was
previously when joined with Arawn through the  kigare. This meant he was at least ten times
his original strength unaided, and with Arawn to guide his flows, he would be double that. He
may not be able to tie up many people or demons with flows of Air, but he could turn a horde
of Rokhal into pillars of flame with little effort.
How  long  he could keep  up  these attacks depended on  how  much  he  increase d  his
endurance with the Power, that would take time and practice. What scared him was the idea
that he could just as easily vanquish dozens of men with Fire. He had to control his temper if
he wanted to save lives rather than end them.
Another decision he  had to make was that he would not hold back when fighting other
men with the sword. Using the Power to kill humans was something he desperately wanted to
avoid, for the sake of his own soul, as well as the hope of approval from Carl, though fighting
with  the blade was another matter. There was little room for mercy in swordfights, though if
he could claim chivalry he would do so. It worried him to think of how many men he might
have  to kill to  save Kismeria. Knowing that some would be evil  men by  their own  choice
made it easier to consider.
Darkservants  had been a part of Kismerian  history since the First Age. There were
always some who decided it was a safer choice to bet on the Dark One. For mortal men, there
was the  hope of  immortality. Immortal  Darkser vants were harder to  understand. They were
joined  to  the  Lord  God  more  strongly  than  mortals,  to  betray  that  bond  seemed
incomprehensible.
Though,  immortals  could  also  have  dark  hearts,  that  much  had  been  explained  to
Adem. Greed and a lust for power and  domination over the Free Lands was believed to be a
key motivator for many who had turned Darkservant. Orion said in other cases those men and
women were just plain evil. He said, ―The Dark One can take over the heart, mind, and soul
of any man or woman if  the motivation is strong enough within that soul. The Lord God is
strong in all mankind, though the Dark One can creep in and steal that power that the Lord
made. That power is free will, the choice to be good or to do evil. For some, to do evil would
be  unthinkable;  for  others,  it  would  be  unimaginable  to  be  good.  You  must  choose  your
friends wisely, Son of Odin, for evil stirs in the hearts of many.‖
***
Five days after  the  final  meetings  in  the War Chamber, on a  warm spring  morning
with a crisp cool breeze blowing  from  the south,  the armies of Nordhel began to  mobilize.
The four armies were to travel together in the beginning and then separate when they neared
the borders of the closest revolt. That was Charkel, over forty miles south- west of Nordhel, a
Nordic province also populated by over forty thousand mortals, mostly farmers and villagers.
Charkel  was  the  capital,  a  fortified  stone  wall  and  watch  towers  surrounding  a
moderate- sized city. The farmer armies there had laid siege to the capital after Lord and Lady
Aravon managed to escape with a force of one thousand cavalry. They had known about the
farmer armies marching on Charkel before they fled to seek aid from Nordhel.
The  fields surrounding the  main  gate of Nordhel  were  swarming with soldiers, A el
Tarael,  Alit‘aren, Guardians,  Reaven  Archers, and Wood Kin.  The Nordics  made  up over
twenty thousand of  their  numbers,  with the entire  army totalling over  fifty thousand. That
included  the  sei’vani  and  other  servants,  including  fletchers,  wheelwrights,  cart  drivers,
blacksmiths, and cooks. Thousands of tents were loaded on carts, along with other supplies
for weapons, horses, and meals.
Altherin  horses  made up  the  majority of  mounts  for the  immortals while the  mortal
soldiers rode thoroughbreds and warhorses.
Adem sat  in  the saddle of  the dark  altherin  stallion who  had rescued  him  from  the
Rahkwel in the East Lands. He named him Tarkson, an immortal word meaning fire dancer.
He wore Alit‘aren black with a black breastplate worked with golden dragons, his  Guardian
cloak flowing behind him on the breeze. Carl and Wil rode to either side of Tarkson on the
altherin  horses they had adopted after passing through the Travelling Gate.  
They also wore black coats and trousers with brown leather knee boots, though  Carl
wore a crimson breastplate and Wil‘s was golden, both with black dragons scrawled across
the  chest.  Jean  and  Terese  rode  a  short  distance  away  with  Lydia  and  Elmira.  All  were
dressed in bright silks and female breastplates and all rode white  altherin  mares. Tobin and
Orion rode to the  left of  Adem and  his  friends  in black coats and breastplates.  Torin and
Kailus also rode with them, the Blademaster in a grey coat and steel armour, Torin in a black
coat and cloak. The mood from those four was that they  were on edge, like steel waiting to be
unsheathed.
Kelderath,  Maldros,  and  Morthros  sat  their  mounts  some  way  back  where  their
lieutenants shouted orders to the ranks of soldiers that rode behind. A sea of pikes and spears
rose to the south above walls of  horses and men in conical steel helmets and breastplates. The
other  lords  and  ladies  and  their  soldiers  were  assembled  behind  those  forces,  and  the
Dremelden were stationed to the east. The Nordics covered the fields to the north, stretching
for over two miles of pikemen, cavalry and archers, Guardians, Ael Tarael, and Alit‘aren.
The Nordics had over five thousand Guardians, all armed with Lukrorian Bows, two
thousand  Ael  Tarael,  and  fifteen  hundred  Alit‘aren.  They  would  be  divided  up  when  the
armies split  into four, though there would be enough wielders to overpower a great number of
mad Alit‘aren. There was concern over the notion that these rogue Alit‘aren may still be able
to work together despite their madness. A hundred mad Alit‘aren forming linked ci rcles could
prove a serious problem.
Hundreds of Guardians and Alit‘aren were in their war garb, called the  ghoda’sidhe.
They  wore  cloth  or  armoured  masks  that  covered  their  mouths  and  noses,  with  matching
gauntlets of the Rohjor colours though some wore e merald green or mauve, including Wood
Kin  and  Reaven  Archers  amongst  the  Dremelden.  Their  clothing  was  shadow  black  cloth
wrapped tightly around their arms and legs with black cloth covering their heads. It was the
first time Adem saw the traditional battle costume, so different to their traditional uniforms.
Some also wore black breastplates or lacquered to match their masks.
It was midmorning when the forces began to ride out; there were no great speeches,
no rituals, or demonstrations, the captains and  generals just began shouting orders, and the
lower ranking officers shouted their orders until the army began to move at a slow trot. It had
occurred  to  the  Immortal  Kings  to  send  a  medium- sized  force  to  Charkel  with  speed  on
altherin  horses, though they wa nted to avoid battle, and there was a chance a smaller army
might be attacked rather than reasoned with.
Going through the Travelling Gate at Nordhel was not an option after learning that the
Power had tainted those portals. So a slow journey to allow the  carts and servants to keep up
was the only option. Every man and woman had a horse or a cart to ride on, but it would take
nearly two weeks to reach Charkel. They would make camp every night, and it was possible
they would stay camped for more than a day  in some cases.
When Adem‘s  line  finally began to  move, Carl and Wil  moved up on either side of
him for conversation. They had not spoken about their shared experiences inside the Arch. It
still seemed a subject none of them wished to share. Speaking of it  in public was forbidden,
and Adem had learnt that immortal ears would easily pick up their words.
―How  have  you  felt after  you started accepting  your  Healing?‖  he  asked Carl,  who
looked at him as if he been struck in the chest. Finally, Wil replied, ―I fee l myself again, for
the most part. I still have nightmares. I was never like this at home, well, not always. I still
feel . . . I don‘t know, edgy and suspicious, like I fear everyone I talk to is harbouring secrets
and wicked thoughts.‖ Adem breathed a deep sigh at that;  it was similar  for  him  too. Then
Carl admitted,  ―You  were  right  to  insist that we accept  Healing, Adem. I  feel  much better
now. Though, the taint seems stronger since we came out of the Chameleon Arch. I can sense
it even when I‘m not hold ing the Power, not nearly as strongly, but it  is there.‖
―I know what you mean,‖ Adem said sadly, ―but perhaps it is just that we are stronger
now, so our sense of the  taint seems stronger. If our ability  to wield  is enhanced,  it  makes
sense that the taint would be too, right?‖
―I guess so,‖ Carl said glumly. ―But what if the taint really is growing stronger? How
long will we be able to resist its effects if it continues to grow? I‘m really worried, Adem, I‘m
concerned for us, for Jean, for all of Kismeria.   I understand now how important it is that we
succeed here.‖ The last was a great relief to Adem‘s ears. He needed his friends to take on the
responsibilities they were appointed; after all, they were the Saviours.
He tried  to think of the  right response,  but all  he could  manage was,  ―We  made  it
through a life and death situation together at Bright, and I was there for you, I didn‘t let you
down, nor did you. I promise I will always be there to do my best. I won‘t let you down.‖ As
for Carl‘s question abou t the taint, he didn‘t know what the right answer would be, so he kept
silent. They rode for the next hour in complete silence except for the trod of hooves and the
sound of clinking steel.
Jean rode with Terese on one side and the Immortal Queens on the  other, the four of
them deep  in conversation  the entire time though  Adem couldn‘t  have eavesdropped  if  he
wanted to. He wondered if Terese was telling Jean what he and his friends had discussed.
―I‘m  worried  about  my  wife  and  daughter  too,‖  Carl  said.  ―I  mean  what  if  these
wormholes we passed through are not just dimensional portals? What if they make us travel
through time as well? That would mean my wife and child would be growing older without
me – they could live their entire lives without me before I returned.
―Imagine all the things that could happen in those years, they could become sick, or
impoverished, just think of the possibilities. I know we have a duty here, Adem, but I have
my duty to  my  family  too. If I can find a way to take us home, I‘m  go ing. If  we have that
chance, we should all go together. I‘ll leave you behind if I have to, don‘t think I won‘t.
―But if you decide to stay, you could be stuck here forever, and you could die here,
Adem. Think of your family and friends back home, what wo uld their lives be like without
you?‖ The nearby soldiers who had been making conversation fell silent at that.
Adem looked to Orion and Tobin to see that their faces were troubled, as were Torin‘s
and Kailus‘s. Obviously the chance of the Saviours abando ning them to their fate had never
been considered before  now. Adem thought for a moment about those  last words before  he
said, ―This is my home. This is what I was born to do. Think of all the training we have been
through these last few months. They have  been shaping us into weapons to fight for them. We
have been reborn through our experiences in the Arch . . .‖
―Don‘t speak of that, Adem!‖ Carl barked. ―Not here anyway, I remember what I saw
in there, that place was . . . wrong, evil. I will never be the  same person after that experience.  
―I  was reborn when  my  father baptised  me  in the sea back home, Adem.  That  is all
that matters to me, my faith, and my family. You were also reborn when my father baptised
you in your parents‘ pool.
―I  was there, Adem.  I  witnessed  your  rebirth. You  were saved then and there,  your
soul promised to the  Lord God. If  you stay  here,  you will become so  mad or evil  you  will
destroy your own soul with foul deeds.
―I saw what  you did to those  men who attacked  us. I saw what  you  are capable of,
what will you do next, Adem? How many lives will be added to that list of murder?‖
―It wasn‘t  murder,‖ Adem protested.  ―It  was  self - defence. I was protecting  you too
and Wil. I reacted harshly, I know, perhaps it was a result of the trainin g, a reflex, or perhaps
it was the taint making me act without compassion or reason. Those men were going to kill
us, Carl.
―If I  hadn‘t acted so quickly,  we  might  not  have  lived through  it. Besides,  you just
said that you know we must succeed here and then you tell me you are planning to find a way
home.
―I meant what I said, Carl. This is my home until we reach our goals; it is my path to
follow. If you search your heart, you will realise you have the same destiny. We were chosen
for this. Right back at  Bright we were given this task to fulfil. Perhaps we were born for it,
consider the Prophecies, perhaps it was all predestined!‖
―I don‘t know about that, Adem,‖ Carl said sullenly. ―All I know is that we are in way
over our  heads  here.  You  remember the  Rahkwel, don‘t  you, and the Nymloc  in the  East
Lands?‖
―Of course, I remember . . . ,‖ Adem began before Carl cut him off with, ―Well that is
just a flyspeck of an army compared to what we will face at the Great Battle! Sure we have
the Power, and our Battle Angels, but there is only so much they can do. We are outmatched,
Adem. What  hope do  we  have to stand against the  Dark  Lord? We  will surely die  here. I
know it. That is our destiny.‖
Adem tried to think of a winning argument; the best he could come up w ith for now
was, ―Suppose we find a way home, what if the Dark One finds a way to open a wormhole
and bring those demons to Earth? Sure we have weapons, but we do not have the Power there
or our Battle Angels or this army! We must make a stand here and do  what we came here for.
I can‘t tell you what I learnt in the Arch, but I can tell you not to lose hope.‖
Carl snorted and scowled at  him before saying,  ―I know  why you  would say that, I
saw you up there, in the sky, and you are the Blue Water Dragon. Ther e can be no doubt of
that.‖ That brought a wave of shocked murmurs from dozens of nearby soldiers, including the
Immortal Kings and Torin and Kailus. ―I know that is why you think there is still a reason to
trust to hope,‖ Carl continued. ―You are the appo inted crux of the Saviours. It is your destiny
to lead us to victory. I have no remorse to be a lesser part in this Pagan ritual. I just wish you
would try to think with your mind instead of always thinking with your heart.‖
Adem did not know what to make  of that, it was forbidden to speak in public of even
shared events inside the Arch, and Adem felt that he always thought with his mind as well as
his heart. He wondered if it was a quip about his obsession with polygraphs.
They rode in silence from then o nwards until they made camp at the end of the day
when the sun was a golden ball sinking behind dark forested peaks. The land hadn‘t changed
much  during  the  days  ride,  mostly  flat  fields  of  matted  brown  grass  with  plenty  of  green
spring shoots rising up through the soil. Some blue and yellow flowers decorated the fields,
and pine and ash and oak trees were scattered along the way.
To the east, he could also see a forest at the foot of the Harknon Mountains at sunset.
Nordhel was nowhere in sight when they  made camp, a cluster of farmhouses were close to
the fields where they pitched their tents and tethered the horses. Torches and lanterns were lit
in the fading light, as well as large campfires, where cooks began to boil stews and prepare
spits for roast deer and lamb.
The entire camp spread for three miles with hundreds of cook fires and thousands of
tents of  every  shape and colour  imaginable.  The  walled  tents  for  the  Immortal Kings and
Queens were two enormous twelve pole structures of red- and- blue stripes. Two of equal sizes
were set  up behind those two, one  for Adem, Carl, and Wil, the other  for Jean and Terese.
Guardians  and  soldiers  were  stationed  around  Adem‘s  tent,  and  he  had  to  wait  for  two
soldiers to raise their crossed pikes before he could push back the door flap to enter.