Books One to Three of the Sons of ODIN part 2

Chapter
12
The Shadow Men
Inside, the tent was furnished with three beds, four high- backed oak chairs, a tall mirror, and
six - mirrored lamps, as well as a large brass bound chest at the foot of each bed. Thick carpets
of g reens, blues, and yellows worked with birds and flowers covered most of the floor; and
despite the clutter, there was still room to pace if desired.
Carl was still  glowering over their discussions earlier  in the day; Wil  was quiet but
seemed only tense about their arguments. Adem sat on one of the cots that were all a decent
size considering they  had to be hauled on a cart. They all sat on their beds  in silence  for a
time until Adem suggested they practice their meditation techniques until supper arrived.
The others agreed and they  folded  their  legs on  the beds and  sat  in prayer position
with their eyes closed as they made soft deep humming chants. It was a mixture of traditional
Christian prayer with Yoga and the Kismerian method rolled into one. Adem lik ed to work
some Tai Chi into it as well though Carl and Wil were still not familiar with the technique.
Of course, they were experienced at creating balls of fire with their bare hands which
was the  ultimate desire of anyone who practiced Tai Chi, though  whether anyone on Earth
had  ever  succeeded  was  unlikely.  Adem  felt  the  Power  flow  into  him,  rivers  of  ice  and
avalanches of  fire,  mixed  with  the  foulness of the taint that  made  him  want  to empty  the
contents of his stomach. He slowly drew more and more of  teron  into him, much more than
he could have held before passing through the Arch.
As he did, he  felt Carl and Wil drawing  more also; each was holding  more than  he
could  have  before  he  was  reborn.  Then  without  discussing  it  first,  they  linked  with  one
ano ther; it was partly done through the will of their Battle Angels and the  kigare, and the rest
was their own decision, a shared request, and acceptance to link.
Teron  rose  like  an  erupting  volcano  in  each  of  them,  much,  much  more  than  they
could  have  held  unaided. Soon  Adem was  unsure  if  the  humming sound  he  heard  was  his
own voice or the Power itself resonating within the tent. A cool breeze swept over his face,
and he opened his eyes partway to see Orion and Tobin bursting through the tent flap.
Their  faces  were  filled  with  panic,  with  teron  enhancing  his  senses,  Adem  clearly
made out drops of sweat on each of their faces! For an immortal to sweat, it must have been
serious. For the Immortal Kings to sweat, it was obviously a matter of life or death.
―Stop this at once!‖ Tobin growled. ―You must let go of the Power immediately! You
will burn yourselves out! If you lose the ability to wield, we are doomed!‖ Adem‘s eyes were
fully opened now, he realised the danger once they had spoken, though it took some s trength
of will to let go of the endless bliss and raging chaos of teron.
Then in a heartbeat he released the Power, as did his friends, and all three gave deep
sighs that sounded like deep regret. Returning to life without  teron  was like waking from the
most beautiful  dream of  ultimate pleasures and  having an  icy bucket of water  tipped over
your head. It was something like that, all the warmth and ecstasy that filled you was ripped
out of you and you were left bland, dull, and numb by comparison.
―You must not hold that much of the Power without your Battle Angels to guide your
flows,‖ Orion explained.  ―Even  linked  you are  in danger of severing  yourselves  from  ever
being able to wield again.
―I know you have grown in your abilities since your rebirth, it   is the same for all who
pass through the Chameleon Arch, but you must contain your desire to draw too much. One
slip in the flows and you could have turned this entire army into a bonfire! We feared you had
all gone . . . we feared the taint had driven yo u to draw so much.
―I  will  send  your  Healers  in  before  you  eat.  Don‘t  touch  teron  again  this  evening
unless we are attacked. Even then, you must not enter battle unless we advise it. You have an
army to serve you, you must conserve your strength, and we must preserve you to meet your
fate.‖  
The  two  men  left  then  without  another  word,  both  wearing  expressions  of  dire
concern. Adem was sure Orion had paused before saying, ―we feared you had all gone mad,‖
and then chose his words more carefully. Three immor tal women entered not long after, all
Nordic women with golden hair tied in thick braids, two with blue eyes and one with green.
The green- eyed woman –  Almer Farbris was her name – attended to Adem.
She wore a dress of dark green silk slashed with silver  across the breasts and thighs.
He would have called her plain faced for an immortal, though she was still very pretty, and
youthful  looking. She  had a  lovely smile  that  he would  not  have called plain  however, and
she flashed her pearl white teeth when she  scanned him with the Power.
―Where  is  Lira?‖ Adem asked before she began  the Healing.  ―She  normally sees to
this.‖
―Lira  Tolnock  is  indisposed  at  present,‖  the  woman  said  in  a  crisp  clear  Nordic
accent. Her voice was not musical like Lydia and Elmira, more   childlike and self - important.
Then  she  began  the  Healing,  waves  of  ice  flowed  through  his  form,  he  shivered,  then
convulsed,  fighting to avoid  flailing  his arms and  legs; his  fists and jaw clenched. When  it
was over, he found he was famished as was usual.
The women left and Adem and his friends stood and stretched and rubbed their eyes.
He felt refreshed, his symptoms receding immediately after she finished the weaves. Not long
after three  sei’vani  entered with bowls of lamb stew, slices of roast deer, and a large loaf of
bread  for each on three silver  trays.  They  were Nordic  men, all  with eyes downcast and a
kind of humbleness about them despite the fact that they radiated the presence of tame lions.
They  did  not  give  their  names,  so  Adem  did  not  ask.  He  was  not  sure  if  it  was  rude  to
question sei’vani, he would have to speak with Torin about that.
When the men left, Adem and his friends ate with a controlled frenzy, gulping down
mouthfuls  of  hot  stew  and  making  sliced  deer  sandwich  after  sandwich.  When  he  was
finished, he felt he still had room for some cheese though he did not want to seem piggish.
Then he heard music and singing outside the tent. It was some way off, but Arawn told him
the tune  was the  Wishing Frog. Adem  looked to Carl enthusiastically,   Carl smiled back  at
him, and they all stood to make their way out to the festivities.
***
The furnishings inside Jean‘s tent were suited to a queen‘s palace, everything was gilded, the
chairs, the bedposts, the mirrored lamps, the carpets, everywhere s he looked was golden. She
and Terese sat on high - backed chairs carved in the shapes of lions, eating their evening meals
from silver trays on small round polished oak tables. Jean sipped the stew as it was still very
hot and  her breath did  little to cool  i t.  Terese had  hardly  touched  her  meal; she sat straight
backed and stared at Jean with eyes that stabbed like daggers through her heart.
The immortal woman had been particularly on edge ever since Jean emerged from the
Chameleon Arch. Sometimes Jean suspected the woman knew everything she had seen inside
the Arch. She  had  inquired  whether  Terese  had  ever been through the Arch  in any of  her
former lives, but the woman would not provide a straight answer.
One thing Terese would admit to was her concern over  Jean‘s increase in the Power.
It was a surge to be exact; she  was easily  ten times stronger than she  had been before she
entered  the  Arch.  Being  stronger  in  the  Power  had  its  benefits  of  course,  though  Terese
seemed almost obsessed over the risks. Her  foc us became  more  inward when  the sound of
music and singing drifted through the tent walls.
She looked as if she were locked in some ancient memory; Jean wondered how often
that occurred ever since the woman had admitted remembering so much about her lover  from
a past life. Then her focus returned to the present, regarding Jean like a hawk spying a fox,
intimidated yet determined to make a meal out of her.
―You  must  meditate  before  you  can  venture  out  to  explore  the  campsite.‖  Terese
lectured. ―If you don‘t  meditate every day you may lose control of your ability to wield. That
could end  in disaster  for  us all. Breathing and  focus, those are the keys to controlling  your
abilities.‖ Jean sighed and rolled  her eyes, placing the spoon back on the edge of the bowl
before she said,  ―Yes, I know all that, Terese, I know. But surely I can skip  meditation  for
one evening to go enjoy the revelry. This is exciting for me! It‘s the most amazing experience
I‘ve ever had! I feel like shouting for joy, but . . .‖
―What is it, Jean?‖ Terese asked. ―You look pale all of a sudden. Are you ill?‖
―No, it‘s nothing, it‘s just . . . I feel different since coming out of the Archway, like
I‘m a different person entirely sometimes. The things I saw in there, the person I became . . .
Oh, I know I can‘t tell you about it . . . it‘s forbidden . . .‖
―You can tell me,‖ Terese said. ―You can tell me anything, Jean. What did you see?‖
―I saw . . . so many things . . . awful things . . . the future of Kismeria . . . and the
future for . . . f or Adem, Carl, and Wil . . .‖
―What happened to them?‖ Terese asked intently.
―I want to tell you . . . but it is forbidden . . . Lydia and Elmira say it could affect the
fate of Kismeria if I tell a soul what I saw . . . but what troubles me most is not w hat became
of Adem or the other two. It was who I became that frightens me . . . I‘m terrified that I will
become  something  I  never  imagined  I  could  be  .  .  .  weak  .  .  .  heartless  .  .  .  cruel  and
unrelenting . . . but it is my destiny . . . how can I change  my destiny?‖
Terese studied her for some time as if she were trying to see inside her skull before
she replied, ―Some say that our destinies are not fixed things, though we may see glimpses of
the  future.  That  future  may change due to choices we  make tha t alter events, resulting  in a
different destiny. Do not worry yourself with what you saw in that place.
―It is designed to display your worst nightmares, to test your greatest fears, to make
you  stronger.  I‘m sure  it  has  too. Finish  your  meal and  you  may  join  your  friends.‖ Jean
smiled at that, for Terese to allow her to skip her meditation was a small favour; to allow her
to spend time with Adem was a change she would never have expected. Perhaps their futures
were not carved in stone after all.
***  
Tairark  Vampireking  strode  through  the  forest  of  thick  oak,  pine,  and  redwood  trees  that
towered above him with dark canopies blocking out the light of the moon. A faint blue glow
still covered most of what was not completely shrouded in darkness. Behind hi m stood one of
his Brothers, Torkhan Dreadlord, who wore a silver skull marked with dark runes, and he was
known as the  Lord of  the Souljhin; the silver skull was  his sigil  as well as  theirs. Another
large silver skull was embossed upon his black  racinthen  breastplate; the enchanted armour
absorbed magic and was impervious to steel.
Tairark  also  wore  black  armour  beneath  his  hooded  cloak  of  shadows;  none  were
taking chances now that they knew the boy Highlander had learnt the Spear of Odin. Their
Brother  was  still  recovering  from  his  wounds  taken  in  that  moment  that  the  boy  learnt  a
fraction of his true ability.
Tairark‘s mask was a silver human skull with sleek eyes and long golden fangs, the
vampire sigil. Torkhan was also robed in a hooded cloak that see med to be made of darkness.
The pair would have been invisible in the shadows if not for the yellow- orange flames that
burnt where their eyes should be. They both stood silently watching the campfires burn of the
so- called Saviour army.
It  was  a  sizeable  force,  more  than  Tairark  and  his  Brother  would  attack;  though
behind them  in  the darkness of  the  forest  waited over one  hundred thousand Nymloc and
Jacoulra with over one hundred and fifty Souljhin. They were Torkhan‘s army, brought here
through the  Travelling  Gate situated at the  foot of  the Harknon Mountains.  They remained
hidden for the time being, joined in part with the shadows of the forest so that the Guardians
could  not detect  their presence,  though the enemy would know of their presence when the
de mons returned to their forms of flesh and bone.
Tairark  had  brought  over  five  thousand  of  his  vampire  army  from  the  Southlands.
Beyond the southern borders,  his  vampire armies  waited  for the  return, the days when  the
Dark One‘s armies  marched  upon the Free  Lands once  more. They were creatures  more of
flesh and bone than the demons, though they could mask their presence for a short time using
the abilities gained from their most recent feed. A vampire could build their abilities over the
years  though  they  were  unable  to  use  most  powers  unless  they  had  taken  a  fresh  victim.
Blood was the source of their power, fresh human blood, and they would feed tonight.
***
Adem sat cross- legged in front of the large campfire where a Torvellen woman was singing
to tunes played on a flute, harp, and drum by three Nordic men. Carl and Wil sat to either side
of  him, and Jean stood nearby with Terese shadowing  her. None of them  had brought their
bows, except for Jean. She seemed to want to keep her Battle Angels close at all  times, even
when there was no apparent danger, or perhaps it was Terese‘s influence that made her keep
the emerald bow slanted across her shoulders.  
She wore a pale blue silk skirt and a sky blue woollen coat with gold buttons, white
silk stockings, and  blue  leather boots.  Terese was dressed almost  identically  in dark  green
woollen stockings and an emerald silk skirt and coat. It was the second time Adem had ever
seen Terese in anything other than trousers. He had to admit she had lovely thighs. Not that
he was a leering lout; he just couldn‘t help but notice the immortal woman in a different light
when she wore something more revealing.
A decent- sized crowd had gathered to listen to the music and the woman‘s fine voice,
soldiers, Ael Tarael, Alit‘aren, Wood Kin, over two hundred stood in an arc surrounding one
side of the campfire with the musicians on the other. The rest of the camp was a scene of men
and women going about their business, or following strict orders, servants bustling  left and
right with arms burdened with bundles, armoured soldiers marching in small groups carrying
swords or shields towards the outer defence lines, Alit‘aren strolling with an air of pride and
dignity, often trailed by a host of Ael Tarael like motherly foxes patrolling after potentially
rabid wolves.
A horn sounded on the outskirts of the camp, followed by others to the east and west!
They were warnings to alert  the camp  that an attack was  imminent! Suddenly  the  faces of
those  Alit‘aren  were  filled  with  controlled  rage  and  the  Ael  Tarael  moving  about  with
expressions of caution and unease. Lightning flared on the edges of the camp, first a single
blue bolt, followed by fourteen thick posts of light that flared before vanishing.
Moments  later  a  torrent  of  lightning  bolts  began  to  fall  from  that  section  of  camp
borderline,  twenty,  fifty,  a  hundred  bolts  blasting  the  earth  with  every  passing  breath,  as
Adem watched the  night turn  into daylight  in  that area, as a fierce roar  like  ferocious  lions
filled the air, as the  lightning  bolts  increased  in a  frenzy of colour, striking  far off  into the
distance  in waves of  magic as Adem  realised  there was a  vast demon army attempting to
infiltrate the front lines!
Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael were already fighting  with desperation, as the  sound of  lions
roaring filled the air  again, then ten thousand lions, this demon army is a massive force, and
they  had caught  them by surprise!  Guardians rushing by began to  shout at the top of their
lungs, ―Demons!  There are tens of thousands of them! To the east! Defend the east!‖
After  hearing  those  words,  Adem  had  his  sword  drawn  in  a  heartbeat.  The  blade
glowed cool blue in the darkness as did Carl‘s crimson spear and Wil‘s golden axe. The two
hundred or more who had been gathering to listen to the music were now huddling around the
Saviours, like lions protecting their cubs. Guardians held glowing   rune marked   blades while
Ael  Tarael  and  Alit‘aren  wielded  balls  of  coloured  fire  that  floated  above  their  palms.
―Protect  the  Saviours!‖  the  men  shouted.  Lightnin g  filled  the  sky  to  the  east,  a  thousand
blades of fire that lanced down from the heavens.
Arrows of coloured flame and balls of fire began to fly to the east also; he estimated
there were at least five hundred Guardians there by now. Perhaps two hundred  Alit‘aren and
Ael Tarael, perhaps more, they had not protected the camp as well as they might have if they
had suspected this.   Shouts of commotion sounded all around, as warriors raced towards the
line of defenders,  while others prepared  to defend other  se ctions of the camp  in case  they
were caught in a pincer movement.
Orion  and  Tobin  appeared  amongst  a  crowd  of  Guardians  with  Lydia  and  Elmira
close  behind.  The  two  kings  wielded  their  rune  marked  blades  that  glowed  amber  and
emerald,  and the queens wielded  balls of blue flame  with fierce determination in their gaze.
They moved to surround Adem and his friends, forming an inner circle with the two hundred
other warriors surrounding their circle.
To the north and west the sound of horse cries filled the air  as soldiers attempted to
prepare  mounts  for  a  charge.  Kelderath  would  be  seeing  to  that,  along  with  Maldros  and
Morthros. They would see this as their failure and hold themselves responsible for leading the
army to victory. They were bold men, but they had  obviously not planned for an attack of this
scale.
The Harp of Souls had been left at Nordhel to be protected behind stone walls. The
kings had decided taking the Harp with them would have been too great a risk. If it fell into
the  hands of  the enemy,  there  would be  no  hope of  victory at the  Great Battle,  for Odin‘s
Harp was made to be used at the Great Battle. Therefore it would be up to the Battle Angels
to decide their fate. Adem wanted to fight; this was his battle as much as theirs.
―We will ride to t he front lines and summon our Battle Angels!‖ Adem shouted to his
friends. ―When they link, they will feast on  ki’mera, building their strength and our own!‖ As
soon as  the  words  left  his  mouth,  he saw dark shapes  flying  overhead.  They  were  human
shapes!  –  Men  and  women  wearing  dark  armour  and  clothing,  some  carrying  spears  or
swords or axes.
Some  of  the  soldiers  began  to  shout,  ―Vampires!  Hundreds  of  them!  Look,  to  the
skies!‖ But there  were  not  hundreds of  them, there were thousands.  They began to swoop
down and launch upon soldiers, knocking them to the ground and biting at their necks, others
landed  to  cross  blades  with  Guardians  and  other  defenders,  and  these  vampires  were
Blademasters in their own rights, lightning quick in their movements, some cutting Guardians
and other  Blademasters down with  forms that  were considered simple and old style  if  not
obsolete.  It  did  not  take  long  before  a  swarm  of  vampires  had  surrounded  the  circle  of
defenders protecting Adem and his companions, some launching savagely to tear out throats
with  their  teeth  and  claws,  while  others  began  to  cut  into  the  lines  of  defence  with  swift
blades that glowed with dark powers.
Orion roared, ―Summon your Battle Angels! Do it now, Adem Highlander!‖
Adem heard Jean shout the name, ―Tanriel!‖
Waves of red fire began to blast outwards towards the vampires that flew overhead,
and also  incinerating a vast portion of those that attacked on the outskirts of  their defence,
first a single wave that set dozens of the creatures on fire and knoc ked them out the sky, then
wave after wave that turned  vampire  flesh  into balls of red  flame, as those  flying overhead
began to crash land throughout the campsite. Tanriel rose above Jean‘s head, over twelve feet
above her and climbing higher.
As the Battle Angel morphed into view, that same force of love and devotion was felt
deeply by Adem and  his  friends, the companionship of a  legendary  hero,  who would  fight
with  every  magic  she  contained  to  rid  this  place  of  the  evil  threat  that  was  closing  down
aroun d them. It was  in a way almost  like a beautiful  song, that  was  felt  more than  heard,
some ancient Power of the Great Angels that fed confidence and rejuvenation into the souls
of  those  they  protected,  as  Adem,  Jean,  Carl  and  Wil  each  drank  in  a  flood  of  teron  and
terael, filling their blood and bones with the ecstasy of the Power, though the three men felt
the agony of corruption like shadows in their veins.  
Tanriel‘s  wings of  light  glowed  pale blue,  her armour  crimson and  gold bands that
burned  with  Eleme ntal  Magic,  gol den  hair  and  eyes  of  blue  flame,  she  was  an  image  of
majestic and superior spiritual energy, as the sense of  love and devotion  flowed  from  her
form like a river of light.
Ki’mera  orbs  began  to  fly  towards  Jean  and  her  emerald  bow  from  the  b urning
vampire  f orms,  a  shining  halo  of  energies  that  were  absorbed  at  the  same  moment  that
Tanriel‘s strength increased dramatically, as she hurled a spear of crimson light that suddenly
became dozens of shafts, striking through the hearts of vampires tha t fell in twitching piles of
scorched bones and ash!
All of this occurred in the seconds before Adem shouted the name, ―Arawn!‖
Twelve  Fire  Lions  burst  from  Adem‘s  form,  leaping  over  the  defensive  circles,
spreading outwards in all directions, pushing vamp ires on to their backs;  tearing out throats
or crushing skulls in their jaws.  The beasts were unrelenting in their attacks, as bolts of blue
lightning and warps of crimson fire launched from their forms to tear holes through vampires
that crossed their pat hs, their roars filling the night sky in glorious ferocity!
Arawn‘s cloak of darkness morphed into view, rising like a shadow spectre   from the
form of two Fire Lions;  wielding a giant sword of red  magma to slice vampires into halves.
The Battle Angel  flowed through the  enemy lines, hacking skulls from shoulders  in crimson
sprays;  releasing blasts of red lightning from his sword   that vaporized flesh and bone.
Ki’mera  orbs  flowed  towards  Adem  and  his  sword,  enhancing  his  Battle  Angels
attacks  as  twelve  Fire  Lions  became  twenty,  then  thirty,  the  beasts  moved  as  burning
shadows,  shredding  through  vampire  armour  and  flesh,  biting  off  skulls  and  limbs  in
bloodthirsty  carnage,  their  battle  roars  drowning  out  the  distant  demons  as  the  circle  of
defenders found new courage and fought back with newfound fervour.
Arawn  released  waves  of  that  intimidating  force  of  the  Underworld,  though  the
emotions  permeating  were  bolstering  to  his  courage,  a  feeling  of  Brotherhood,  and  the
Companionship of a Protector  was evident  within that dark and brooding elemental  magic
that was also like a deep male song of chaos and contempt, a rolling chant of feelings sensed
that inspired hope and ambition, to crush these enemies like worms under a rock!
Adem felt Arawn link with Tanriel, and as they did he felt his awareness of Jean also
increased through the  kigare. At the same  moment,  he reached  for the  Lord‘s Power   like  it
was an endless cup he wished to drain completely.
Teron  flooded his veins in showers of fire and rivers and ice, the  taint floating o n the
surface like a putrid gel, he was entranced by the beauty and magnificence of  teron, but the
corruption upon the Power brought him close to vomiting in revulsion. His eyes felt as if they
were burning into ashes, his bones as if they  were crumbling into dust, yet the light of  teron
was a burning beacon in his soul, enough to carry him to heaven and beyond in the glory of
its purity, yet it was not pure at all, and that slick of rancid filth was a noxious fusion with
enough strength to knock him off his feet!
Lightning began to fall all around them —a blazing storm that turned night into day
as hundreds of bolts  fell every  heartbeat—striking  vampires  in  the sky and on  the  ground,
pummelling them into the earth in b urning   blue bolts. Tha t was mostly his doing, though he
had  sensed  Carl  and  Wil  seizing  even  greater  stores  of   the  Power  also,  and  they  were
wielding some of that lightning as Carl shouted, ―Math Mathonwy!‖  
Wil roared, ―Eledisren!‖
Vampires  still  surrounded the two hundred who  formed a defence around Adem and
his friends, over three hundred of them,  mostly men with sharp fangs; their eyes were  large
dark  orbs. Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael threw balls of fire or bolts of lightning from their hands
while Guardians fought the vampires  with their blades and arrows. The soldiers were fighting
hard also, though  vampires  were  stronger and  easily overpowered their opponents  in  most
cases. One disadvantage the vampires had was their desire to feed every time they took down
a soldier or Guard ian. This gave some opportunity to hack their skulls off or blast them with
fire while they were face down and gorging on human blood. Screams of men were heard all
around them. Adem wondered how many men they would lose in this single attack.
Math‘s  crimson  cloak  appeared  morphing  amongst  the  vampire  swarms,  a  red
phantom of  menace that caused bodies to  implode on contact, as  the  Hellfire Spear swept
through their ranks with blazing vehemence, the golden armoured Battle Angel taking form
to  rip  flesh  from  bones  in  a  bloodthirsty  display,  the  air  permeating  with  the  force  of  a
Brother of the Underworld.
Dis Pater appeared alongside Math, his giant golden axe decapitating vampires at will,
cutting torsos in half and splitting skulls in crimson sprays as the s hadow figure rose and took
shape like a behemoth of avalanching destruction, waves of Flame Crows launching from his
form to blast through vampire hearts and chests like dark arrows!
Math‘s Shadow Hounds joined the carnage, as the three forms of Spirit Warden began
to meld in that now familiar mess of magic that morphed into shapes like burning dragons of
white flame that blasted vampire bodies into incinerated piles, as their deafening roar filled
the air; joined by the aftermath of flames unleashed by Tanriel‘s Spears.
The  four  Battle  Angels  linked—burning  love  and  shadows  of  chaos  united  in  epic
forces that washed over the Saviours and their adversaries, inspiring determination amongst
his  comrades  and  perhaps  trepidation  in  those  demonic  hearts—as  Adem  sensed  his  three
friends more strongly  via  the  kigare ; they were all frightened, terrified was more like it, but
they held on to what strengths they had gained through their training and their rebirths.
Each of them had been forged into a new breed of warr ior, in some ways they were
akin to any of the Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael of this Age, or of any, though the tests and trials
of  the  Chameleon  Arch  were  designed  especially  for  branding  the  souls  of  the  Sons  and
Daughter with minds and hearts that could withstand anything the Dark One decided to throw
against them!
A swirling vortex of grey clouds appeared  above Adem and his protectors, spreading
downwards  as  a  great  grey  finger  as  the  vortex  became  larger ;  the  winds  howled  and
lightning flared in many colours in the skies above,  as the four Battle Angels were swept up
into the clouds that surged with cataclysmic might that was almost terrifying to behold. 
Bolts of lightning fell to blast vampires all around the protective circle, aqua, crimson,
emerald  and  g olden  swords  of  flame  lanced  from  above  with  ominous  force  and  raging
vehemence;  vampires  were  caught  in  pillars  of  light  that  vanquished  thei r  flesh  in  that
momentary blaze as an overwhelming clash of thunder tore the air.
Arawn, Math Mathonwy, and Dis Pater flew back down out of the clouds  like giant
birds of prey, wings of shadow or crimson and golden  flames at their backs, weapons of light
released blasts of  lightning and  fire; obliterating  the   scores of   vampires that stood  in their
path.  The three Bro thers split off in three different directions when they reached the ground,
hacking through torsos, decapitating, annihilating their enemies with devastating might as the
vampire swarms began to back away or take to the skies in terrified awe.
Tanriel still hovered at the peak of the clouds;   dozens of  Flame Spears  flew from her
hands  to punch through  vampire  flesh, setting  them to  flames  in brilliant crimson  flares as
scorched bones collapsed in burning piles or blasted into ash. As the  ki’mera  orbs continued
to  flow  to  the  Resting  Points,  the  minions  of  the  Battle  Angels  increased  in  strength  and
number.  A  hundred Fire  Lions and over sixty Shadow Hounds  charged  through the camp,
knocking down and devouring vampires in massive gulping bites. 
Flame Crows punched through chests in blasts of shadows and fire, or swarmed in the
air to crash land with deafening thuds that blasted flesh and bone to flying pieces. The Crows,
Lions and Hounds melded whenever they closed ranks, becoming massive serpentine dragons
of  flame that gorged on vampire flesh as their long sinuous forms released blasts of lightning
and fire to obliterate any enemies within range, as Tanriel‘s Spears struck to earth to unleash
walls of pure crimson flame that turned flesh and bone to vapour and dust!
Orion shouted to Adem, ―We  must  move the Battle Angels to the eastern defences!
We are outnumbered and  in  need of  their strengths!‖ Adem  gave  this command to  Arawn
through  the  kigare.  The  Battle  Angel  responded  by  extending  his  giant  wings  of  shadow
flames, then  flying back towards Adem, to swoop down and pick  him  up by the shoulders,
launching him into the sky and flying towards the eastern defences!
Adem saw the demon army in those moments that he flew through the night sky; there
must have been at least eighty thousand that he could make out in that sea of darkness. It was
the  red  eyes  of  the  Nymloc  and  the  coloure d  eyes  of  flame  of  the  Jacoulra  that  made  it
possible to estimate numbers, as well as the size of the dark bulk that formed their masses—
thousands  upon  thousands  of  kindled  coals  glaring  within  a  sea  of  flesh  that  swarmed
together like some flowing river of tar!
With the Power enhancing his vision, he made out the black- robed forms of Souljhin
mounted  on  their  Shadow  Steeds,  pushing  the  demon  army  forwards  in  an  effort  to
overpower the defensive lines.  These demon generals were indeed the most fearsome of all,
as the demon army suddenly  unleashed the  full  force of their evil energies to pour  forth  in
waves,  battering  the  senses  of  the  ent ire  Nordic  army.  It  was  a  devastating  manoeuvre,
penetrating  the  very  fibres  of  flesh  and  fire  of  spirit  of  every  man  and  woman  on  the
battlefield, yet in the way it brought back the terrors of Bright, Adem believed he, Carl and
Wil felt it more than any other.
Arawn  placed  him  down  in  the  centre  of  a  wall  of  Alit‘aren,  Ael  Tarael,  and
Guardians, who were behind thousands of Guardians  and  Blademasters  defending the  front
lines.  The battle was a scene of absolute chaos and disorder, though  Adem soon saw  how
well the defenders were  managing despite a  need  for reinforcements, as Alit‘aren and Ael
Tarael battered the  front  lines of demons  with blasts of  Elemental Magic,  lightning  flying
from the fists of men, and balls of flame from the palms of the women, as the Guardians fired
wave after wave of blazing arrows of light that launched over the front lines of defenders to
fall as showers of flame that blasted demon flesh apart on impact, skulls and limbs torn free
in blood and fire as lightning surged within the d eeper ranks that spread like hungry serpents
from the initial blasts. 
Many  Alit‘aren  and  Ael  Tarael  were  on  the  front  lines  attacking  in  similar  styles,
though their  lightning and spheres of  flame were thrown directly  forwards  in straight  lines,
with a punching action gestured with each energetic throw, the impact blasting demon bodies
to shreds as spheres of energy expanded from every source, becoming snakes and leopards of
burning light that pushed deeper within the enemy ranks, gorging and shredding thro ugh flesh
and bone in a cosmic display of unrelenting annihilation.
Adem   was on the  ground only  moments before  he  looked back  into the sky to see
Carl,  Wil,  and  Jean  being  carried  towards  him  by  their  Battle  Angels.  He  sensed  Jean‘s
nervousness over flying though despite that her nerves were steel now. 
The Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael were also forming walls of shields wherever they could
manage  to,  buffering  the  defenders  with  impenetrable  barriers  that  the  Guardians,
Blademasters and other warriors could easily cut through from their own side, hacking down
thousands of savage demons that pressed against the shields, biting and clawing to no effect
before  they  were  savagely  cut  to  bleeding  chunks.  When  the  front  lines  fell,  the  hordes
behind moved forwards in a wave; pushing at the front defences of pikemen, spears, swords,
and axes.
These mostly immortal bred on the front lines moved with impossible speeds in their
sword and blade  forms also, a blurring  to  mortal eyes as enchanted  weapons  flared  in arcs
and  slashes of vehement might, the enemy were being ground into minced meat against these
walls of death!
Men were  still  dying out there; he heard their screams as flesh was ripped from their
bones.  Wherever a shield failed the defenders were soon overwhelmed  by the crushing force
of such numbers stacked against them, a never ending charge of teeth, claws and pure muscle,
and Nymloc were particularly savage and bloodthirsty when enraged. 
Jacoulra could create Fire spells also, balls of  crimson   magma  flew towards the front
defences  to burn holes in the shields, allowing a flood of demons to push through before the
lines  were  more  greatly defended, as  wielders  fought back desperately  with their  magic to
burn the creatures to cinders and ash, and occasionally bolts of red lightning fell from the sky
that  were  cast  by  the  larger  demons,  these  were  quite  devastating  on  impact,  as  massive
crimson  blasts  obliterated  dozens  of  warriors,  turning  them  to  burning  corpses  or  even
screaming  scorched skeletons! Wielders were  also attempting  to at  least keep the  front  line
defenders protected  from above  with other  shields, but  the Jacoulra  were casting waves of
magma to try to burn through those barriers wherever possible.
Jacoulra wielders formed small packs in some areas of  their ranks, fusing the might of
their dark enchantments in wedges, each wielder holding a sceptre of dark iron that glowed
like hot coals with odd shaped scythes burning at their tips, the points from which their dark
magic was hurled. These wedges of demon wielders spoke in rude chants, a guttural Demonic
Tongue that was  forged of the Old Ways  Magic, a bridge between  the past and present of
ancient evil that sent shivers down Adem‘s spine as he gazed upon those elemental casters,
chanting their war cries‘  as raw emanations of evil energies coalesced and permeated  from
each wedge in a way that was as distressing as it was intimidating and abnormal.
The male Battle Angels swooped down to land in front of the  warriors that formed the
first line of defence,  as  Tanriel created a gap by unleashing a blast of red flames that spread
for  half a mile in a straight line; burning  thousands of demons to ash in a matter of seconds,
Jean drinking in a torrent of brilliant burning  ki’mera  moments after that was almost blinding .
Adem watched as literally tens of thousands of  colourful  orbs flowed towards Jean and her
bow that  she clutched in her left hand, his sense of her via the  kigare  was that her strength
had just increased tenfold!
For a time, she was encased in  the spe llbinding  glow of colours   that surrounded her
like a  vacuum.  He  sensed   that she  was  also  becoming overwhelmed  from the surge  in  the
Power. Tanriel began throwing out hundreds of crimson spears that fell to the earth to release
walls of flame that erupted s ideways through the demon ranks, reducing dark flesh to  charred
lumps of congealed mass on the far edges, but within the main source of flame the demons
simply ceased to exist!
But the Battle Angels were still linked, so the  ki’mera  was shared even though  it was
delivered to Tanriel‘s  Resting Point. Two hundred Shadow Hounds and three  hundred Fire
Lions  appeared  in  the  gap  between  the  demon  army  and  the  front  lines  of  defence.  A
thousand  Crows swooped down from the sky; landing another crushing blow to the  demons
as the Shadow  Hounds and Fire  Lions  rushed  forward,  hacking  through demon  flesh with
razor- sharp claws and biting skulls or tearing off limbs.
As  the  Spirit  Wardens  began  to  meld  once  more,  the  darkness  became  alive  with
dozens  of  blazing  white  dragons,  their  jaws  biting  through  even  Jacoulra  as  if  they  were
ripened dark melons fit for bursting, multiple claws of flame shredding through armour and
flesh as blasts of energy erupted  from their sinuous torsos and  tails, bolts of  lightning and
rings of   flames to vaporize demons with magnificent ferocity!
Ki’mera  flowed to the  Sons and  Daughter  like a  floating river of  light,  filling them
with  the  Power,  enhancing  their  Battle  Angels  abilities  until  their  attacks  and  minions
doubled  in  number! Waves of Hounds,  Lions and Crows  flowed through  the enemy  ranks,
splitting demons  in  half or ripping off  skulls and  limbs  with bloodthirsty  intensity, a  force
that could not be quelled even against such a vast horde of evil, the enemy became panicked
and disorganized, even breaking ranks as uncertainty took hold of beings that were normally
bred to simply kill and eat, the emotion of  fear  was almost  unknown to such creatures, yet
Adem saw that they were at least more than intimidated.
Jean drew her sword of blue light and  with admirable rage she shouted, ―Druantia!‖
Twelve Green Men began sprouting from the earth in the gap between the first lines
of defence and the demons that were being pushed back by Fire Lions and Shadow Hounds.
They were all male Green Men this t ime, fat bellied and standing up to fourteen feet tall, a
monstrosity of vines, wood, and leaves forming human figures with black seed- shaped eyes.
They  began  stomping  through  the  demon  ranks,  striking  with  their  fists  like  giant
clubs, crushing demons in  their wake as lightning and fire blasted from each point of impact;
incinerating flesh and bone as the energies took forms of tiny winged pixies and axe wielding
dwarf like beings, blasting and hacking through enemy ranks until their magic was dispersed.
As  the  ki’mera  orbs  flowed  to  Jean‘s  sword,  the  Green  Men  increased  in  number,
fifteen, and then twenty of the  giants.  They roared  like  massive bears as they stomped and
clubbed at demon  flesh as  if  they  felt a deep  hatred  for  the creatures.   Pixies and  Dwa rves
doubled  in number as  the Green Men actually  now struck at the  hordes with  large wooden
clubs  that  blazed  with  emerald  light,  the  fires  spreading  outwards  in  various  forms  of
Wardens  that  unleashed bolts and  rings of  flame  from their own  forms as they  tore  holes
through chests or cut demons down at the knees to drive burning axes into their skulls!
The  defenders  were  fortunate  that  their  generals  and  kings  had  chosen  this  camp
location  for  its various  naturally  formed points of defence, as although  the  front  lines were
mostly  a  level  field between the  lines of defenders and the enemy  ranks, the demons were
being  forced  to  move  through  a  sort  of  funnel  formed  in  the  landscape  by  a  valley  type
formation rising  to either side of the path of  grasslands that  flowed  from the  nearby  forest
where the creatures were emerging in dark waves.
Other borders of  the camp  would be  more  easily defended as the  land rose  higher
around the circular edges of the camp on the southern and western sides, and a series of cliffs
bordered  the  northern  edges  that  rose  to  overlook  rolling  hillsides  becoming  much  larger
mountains  further off  in the distance, and  it was  for  these  very reasons that the  camp  was
chosen to hold such a large force of defenders in possible safety so long as  the eastern gap
could be buffered with shields long enough to cut down this demon force.
Another advantage of this landscape was the rather predictable attacking formation of
these  kinds  of  demon,  as  Nymloc  and  Jacoulra  most  often  simply  pressed  their  rank s
forwards in endless waves to grind their victims into pieces, particularly when facing warriors
without sufficient shields of the Power to defend their front lines. In this case and with many
other  ancient  battles,  the  demon  attack  style  provided  some  assurances  that  shields  of
Elemental  Magic  to  form  walls  of  defence  would  provide  a  point  of  focus  for  the  enemy
ranks, distracting them  from  more efficient  manoeuvres such as attempting to surround the
camp with their greater numbers and attacking from ever y point of defence at the same time.
Adem knew Rahkwel would have made such an attempt much sooner, as the goblins
were more advantageous in battle formation and strategies than these perhaps less intelligent
demons, but  he also knew  that the chaos being caused by  the  thousands of  vampires still
attacking the heart of the campsite from above, would have made it much more difficult to
defend  every  border  if  the  demons  decided  to  change  tactics,  and  so  he  knew  he  had  to
destroy this massive force before the Souljhin decided it was time to restructure their attack
formations.
A Rokhal horde would also have been disastrous if they had been summoned to this
battle, as the larger swift moving beasts were also tactically smarter than these more ancient
demon breeds, and eight to twelve feet tall figures of pure muscle attacking in a ring while
pushing  with  spears,  pikes  and  halberds  would  have  put  much  greater  pressure  on  their
shields, as well as making it very difficult for the warriors to cut them down with such  long
gaps formed by the wooden hafts of each weapon. He did not care to wonder why the enemy
had not thought of this, though he said a silent prayer in hope that such demon reinforcements
did not show their faces.
The swarms of Spirit Wardens continued to  plough through the  enemy  lines,  white
dragons devouring flesh and bones in bursts of dark blood; vaporizing enemies with blasts of
flame,  while  thick  muscled  Hounds  and  shadow  flamed  Lions  leapt  from  all  sides  of  the
twisting dragons, biting, clawing, ripp ing off skulls with a single swipe or chewing through
demon chests with ravenous intensity!
The presence of the Crows even brought a new stage of ability for the Wardens, as the
Crows grouped together to form Lions and Hounds with wings of burning shadows  that lifted
off the  ground,  some pouncing to  land with shockwaves of  force and energies that blasted
demons into dust, while the larger groups of Warden took form as flying silver dragons that
breathed walls of flame down upon the demon scourge.
During this massive Battle Angel Link, the Wardens also released their own waves of
Pixies that flew off in every direction towards the demon hordes, punching through chests or
blasting skulls to cinders and ash with  lightning  speed and  unstoppable  force.  The  flames
released  by  the  Lions  at  times  became  burning  Leopards  that  joined  the  slaughter  on  the
fields, as the energies charging around Shadow Hounds spread off  into waves of  Lightning
Wolves that glowed like starlight as they tore through flesh and bone, shredding demons into
bleeding chunks or biting into the jugular in dark sprays as they forced Nymloc and Jacoulra
to the ground with heavy paws.
Flame Spears continued  to clear a path  for the three  male  Battle  Angels  further out
within the demon masses, as Arawn  spun in circles with his massive blade to cleave through
three or four Jacoulra at a time, blade of flame slicing thick congealed halves of dark flesh
that slid and collapsed  in burning piles as  he drove the blade through the chest of another,
hacked off  a skull or released a wave of crimson energies  to vaporize a wedge of Jacoulra
wielders.
Math and Dis Pater fought on Arawn‘s flanks, Hellfire Spear and axe of golden light
releasing  blasts  and  waves  of  Elemental  Magic  to  burn  demons  into  scorched  piles  of
smoking  flesh, hacking off  limbs or crushing the smaller Nymloc demons underfoot before
driving spear or axe blade through their chests and skulls. The three Brothers were relentless
in  their  onslaught  tactics,  showing  no  signs  of  intimidation  or  fear  as  they  drove  through
enemy  lines amidst waves of  lightning and  fire that reduced demon  flesh to ash as  ki’mera
fed their souls with greater endurance and might.
For a time, it looked as if it would be a fairly simple victory. The  ki’mera orbs fed the
Resting  Points, and the Battle Angels increased the scale and level of their attacks.  This was
the  main  source  of  their  attacking  style,  that  while  the  four  Angels  continued  to  harvest
demon souls they also  fed the Spirit Wardens that  multiplied  in  number, harves ting  greater
stores of ki’mera to the effect of greater devastation of the enemy forces. The resulting scene
was a bloodbath of burning chaos  upon  the battlefield,  glorious to  witness as  it  filled  the
Saviour army with courage and determination, as some time passed while the warriors gazed
in awe upon the  Battle Angels slaughtering demons,  yet Adem realised that victory was still a
small hope when  Arawn spoke to  him  via  the kigare to say that he was tired.
What does that mean? Adem asked.
It means I must rest, Arawn replied.  We all must. It is up to you now, Son of Odin.
Then the three male Battle Angels and Tanriel unleashed a final wave of attacks, fire
burst  from crimson spears, Fire Lions and Shadow Hounds swept through the demon ranks
like nightmares come to life, Crows covered the skies, swooping down to tear demon flesh  or
blast  it  into  shreds  on  impact,  the  Wardens  melding  to  become  waves  of  Flame  Dragons
burning neon white as energies pulsed, flared and blasted from their massive winding forms
that   trailed through the dark demon masses to obliterate flesh and bone in cosmic flashes and
flares  of  pure  incineration!  When  Tanriel‘s  Spears  touched  ground  before  and  around  the
Flame Dragons, the burning white beasts‘ unleashed  waves of  fire  from their ow n  massive
jaws that vaporized demons or turned them to congealed chunks of burning flesh as the fields
were filled with their deafening roars!
Math, Dis Pater and Arawn released a unified wave of Elemental Magic that morphed
around  each  of  the  three  males  to  take  the  form  of  dozens  of  beings  of  golden- orange  or
crimson - shadow flames, all of equal height of the Battle Angel they surrounded and looked
most  like,  as  the  Spirit  Wardens  began  to  hack  and  slash  with  vehement  rage,  wielding
golden axe or spear or  sword of burning magma, as the three Brothers focused these wedges
of  Wardens  like  spearheads  to  drive  through  the  enemy  bulk,  flames  flowed  from  each
weapon like the roar of dragons as the burning sentinels carved a path of destruction in waves
of incineration, hacking through dark flesh flying in fried chunks!
Then suddenly, they ceased their attacks, the Battle Angels returned to their Resting
Points,  their  weapons  and  minions  vanishing  with  them.  Only  Druantia‘s  Green  Men
remained, the Battle Angel hers elf was a beacon of blue- green light with wings of blue fire
hovering twenty feet above Jean. So she could see the battle field more clearly he assumed.
Though her attacks had less effect without the other four and she would tire soon too,
it was  up to him, now.
He didn‘t bother trying to summon Wings of Odin; he had tried enough times since
emerging  from  the Arch and  failed each time.  He thought  it  must  have been something  he
could only do in that strange reflection of worlds. If it were possible in the real world, he had
not  yet  learnt how. The Immortal Kings and Queens  had caught  up to them by now, along
with over two hundred Guardians wearing the masks and black garb of the ghoda’sidhe.
They  formed a protective barrier around  them  with Ael  Tarael and  A lit‘aren on the
outer  edges.  They  were  still  very  close  to  the  front  lines  however,  and  the  demons  were
beginning to push back, hard, and with a vengeance. The familiar screams of dying men filled
the air once more as pikemen tried to push back the advanci ng demons.  Adem could see the
waves of Jacoulra magic that was being hurled at the walls of shields along the front lines of
defence, and when blasts of that corrosive fusion melted the barriers, men screamed in terror
and death. He had to think of something  fast  if  he wanted to save  more lives, but  his  heart
was stricken with panic,  he  fumbled at weaves as  he wondered  what spell  would  have the
greatest impact, second guessing himself before releasing each attack.
Soldiers  and Guardians  were  there also,  hacking  with blades and axes at black bull
and ram skulled beasts. Ael Tarael and Alit‘are n who had been resting, during the time that
the Battle Angels attacked,  began casting balls of flame  that took to the skies in the form of
Pixie Wardens, angel  winged beings of  light  that punched  through demon chests  in bright
flares  or  caused  skulls  to  explode  on  impact,  as  li ghtning  bolts  fell  from  the  sky,  blazing
blades  of  emerald,  golden  and  crimson  fire  lanced  down  to  blast  into  sheets  of  flame,
spreading in disc s haped rings of fire that obliterated dozens of demons with every strike, and
soon  there  were  hundreds of those blades  falling every  second that  he  watched with some
sense  of  hope,  while  other  blue  bolts  fell  in  the  shape  of  giant  serpents  that  snapped
ferociously as they crushed demons in jaws of flame!
Kelderath, Morthros, and Maldros  were  mounted  with  five  thousand cavalry and a
thousand Dremelden. They were milling behind Adem and his friends, anxious for a charge
though faltering due to the crowds that  surged in front of them. Kelderath was barking orders
like a mad dog, ordering Wood Kin Archers into formation, reinforcing his own ranks with
more riders armed  with  lances and pikes to  surround  the charge, sending defenders to  the
front lines made up most ly of more Blademasters and Guardians of immortal blood as these
would be the fastest and more enduring blades on the battlefield.
Morthros and Maldros assisted his commands by ordering the captains and lieutenants
that surrounded them, reinforcing his tac tics with a greater supply of leaders that nodded or
bowed  from  the  saddle  before  breaking  off  to  separate  points  of  defence;  many  of  the
commanders being sent closer to the front lines to lend some courage to those brave warriors
and to inspire the will o f defiance against this ominous threat of doom.
An addition to  the  front  lines were  greater  numbers of  Archers and  Lukrorian Bow
wielding  Guardians,  the  Wood  Kin  on  foot  firing  dead  ahead  while  the  Guardians  were
mounted behind them so they could fire from  a higher vantage, as torrents of burning arrows
launched  at  the  demons,  firing  straight  through  the  back  of  the  protective  walls  to  blast
demons  to  blood  and  ashes  on  impact,  line  after  line  of  enemies  fell  in  glorious  burning
waves.
The Wood Kin also stood on a slightly raised plateau of land behind the main lines of
Blademasters  and  Guardians  defending  with  swords  and  other  blades,  which  gave  them  a
slight  height advantage also to allow them  to  fire directly above  the  heads or between  the
gaps of two me n‘s shoulders while the Guardians mounted behind them had an even greater
height advantage. Their aim was still relatively straight despite this as some Jacoulra stood up
to nine feet tall or more, and Nymloc at least seven feet with the taller breeds, so  the Wood
Kin aimed for Nymloc skulls and the Guardians fired at Jacoulra chests and skulls in waves
of burning obliteration.
During this time Adem stood with Jean to his right and Carl and Wil to his left, as the
four of them decided they should at least link, after communicating via their Battle Angels,
and  the skies came alive  with  lines of blazing blue bolts  falling  like spears and swords to
almost double the number that had up till now been falling upon the fields.
They had not drawn too much of the Power, as they knew the risks, but the amount of
ki’mera  gathered by each of the Battle Angels allowed them to release torrents of  teron  and
terael  with ease, once they had agreed upon the first weave. The link was passed mainly to
Jean to control, and she  l ooked  more than a  little pale  with the revolting corruption  upon
teron sensed within her soul. Where those Spear and Blade tips touched ground, they not only
blasted demons to shreds with the initial impact, but waves of magma erupted from the earth
to flo w outwards, burning demons to smoking husks.
Adem  noted  nods of approval  from Orion and  Tobin at this point, as well as  from
their wives, as those four formed their own link, and Adem saw Orion‘s Golden Tigers and
Tobin‘s Emerald Lions launch upon the fiel ds, attacking from the shield line to crash into the
demon  masses, spreading bolts of  lightning and blasts of energy as the Wardens chomped
down on limbs and skulls, pushing demons to the ground to rip through the jugular as dark
blood flowed. Lydia and Elmira released waves of Pixies from their open palms that took to
the skies in floating blue rivers of light, launching down upon the battlefield to blast demons
apart on impact, burning holes through chests; skulls exploding in bursts of blood and flames.
They fought against the hordes in this link for some time, until Jean signalled to the
men via their Battle Angels that she also required a while to rest and recover, and so the link
was released, at which point Carl tapped Adem on the shoulder to shout, ―I have a plan, and I
don‘t think we will succeed unless I try. You‘ll have to trust me!‖
And  with  that,  Carl  was  suddenly   pushing  his  way  back  through  the  crowds  of
warriors, making his way  towards the  lines of mounted cavalry;   his crimson spear glowing in
the darkness like a sceptre of ill fate.
What is he doing? Adem wondered.
He looked over his shoulder again to see Carl  shouting orders as he almost pulled a
man out of the saddle;  taking  his  horse to  lead Kelderath and the others off  to  the  south.
Adem had noted Kelderath bowing to Carl from the saddle like a brow beaten wolf exuding
shame and embarrassment for not seeing the same wisdom as one of the Chosen. Whatever
Carl had planned, he was not sharing it via the kigare.
The five thousand horsemen fo llowed Carl and the noblemen to vanish into the night.
They broke off to the right and fanned out in a series of lines headed towards the hills that
would give them a view of the demon flanks from that side of the battlefield.
Where are they going? Adem wondered again, hoping that Carl was not so affected by
the corruption upon teron that he was experiencing delusions of grandeur.
He  was  more  than  relieved  to  see  Carl  taking  initiative  in  this  fight;  it  was
alternatively perhaps  a sign the  man was coming  to  his senses.  But Carl knew  nothing of
cavalry and charges, though that thought stirred memories of lessons Adem had learnt during
his ordeal within the Arch, and he began to hope and trust that this new spurt of courage and
initiative by his friend was a   sign that Carl had also developed serious improvements in his
understanding of war and battle tactics.
It was  then that Adem  noticed Wil had vanished too! He looked behind him to see the
man running towards the line of Dremelden warriors, his golde n axe s winging in his belt loop
as  he  too  began  to  bark  orders  at  the  Wood  Kin  Immortals,  their  leaders  Farrigan  and
Gwyndel  giving bows of subservience as  he too apparently devised schemes  they  had  not
considered up until this point.
―Now  what  is  he  doing?‖ Adem   asked  himself. He began to wonder  how  much his
friends  had changed since being reborn within the Arch, and already he was seeing evidence
of just how extreme and varied those changes may be in each of them.
―Carl says he has a plan, Adem!‖ Jean shouted with a fierce temper. ―Put some trust
in your friends and see what comes of this. For now, focus your might against this scourge
and do some damage with what you can muster!‖
So  it’s  up  to  me  then,  Adem  thought  as  he  pressed  his  palms  together  in  prayer
posi tion, the Power bleeding  into and throughout  his skin and soul as  lightning  and  flames
ripped at the very fabric of his being, charged and flowed within his core to vast extremities
of heat and light, with electric coolness added to the cataclysm of energies that threatened to
tear  him  to shreds  in  its  magnificence, as he  laughed ecstatically within  the confines of his
mind while almost on the verge of tears in revulsion from that horrid foulness that corroded
his flesh and bones, a vileness beyond compare that brought images of festering tar, bubbling
as it nearly coalesced with teron; a river of pure and incandescent flames within his veins.
A hundred thick lightning bolts fell  as  giant swords of blue flame. That was all him
this  time. Another  hundred, and   then  fifty  more; each striking a different place each time.
Demons howled as they were torn apart in flashes of blue flames.  
He focused most of his attacks just behind the front lines of demons. He didn‘t want
to accidentally strike any of his own soldie rs, but he wanted to make a mess of the front lines
that were at times tearing his soldiers to shreds. This method gave the soldiers and Guardians
more room to swing an axe or blade. The problem was this method could take all night. He
was  not  sure  he  coul d  keep  this  up  for  more  than  an  hour.  The  Arch  had  improved  his
strength and endurance dramatically, but even these somewhat simply  formed weaves were
draining a vast portion of his vitality.
Ki’mera orbs flowed towards him, filling him with the  glory of  the Power, filling him
with the  vileness of corruption. Behind the walls of lightning he formed new weaves, making
it hail balls of blue flame, each the size of a fist. They would mostly wound demons rather
than kill them, but he divided the flows to make  hundreds of the balls of light fall every few
seconds, covering nearly a mile of black bodies.
He called that weave Lightning Hail. The balls of flame melted through demon skulls
like hot knives through butter, tore limbs from the muscular beasts;  hammering them into the
earth.  The  Nymloc  and  Jacoulra  preferred  to  move  in  huge  wedges,  formations  of  a  sort
where their  front  lines pushed,  hacked, and slashed with their claws and  fangs, while those
behind waited to take over when the f ront lines were defeated. Battles of this kind were  like
one  giant  meat  grinder regardless of whether  you  were on the winning or  losing end.  The
elemental shields created by the Alit‘aren and Ael  Tarael were the only thing stopping this
vast  horde  from  overwhelming  the  front  line  defenders  and  grinding  them  into  blood  and
bones.
Adem  continued to  wield those same two weaves for an extended period of time, until
he  was  in  desperate  need  of  a  rest.  By  that  time,  a  soldier  had  arrived  leading  his  black
stallion, along with others for  the Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren to mount. This made it easier for
Adem to see the battlefield, particularly the enemy and where to strike. However, they stood
ou t to the Jacoulra wielders harnessing their dark magic .
Therefore   more Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren were required to produce shields of Fire and
Air  to  surround  those  mounted  on  horseback.  Two  dozen  male  and  female  wielders
surrounded Adem to provide a substantial shield. He was  close to exhaustion, though Arawn
was  gaining  strength  from  the  ki’mera  that  continued  to  flow  into  Adem‘s  chest  and  his
sheathed sword, mostly fanning around the hilt. This revived Adem‘s strength, providing new
levels of  endurance and enhancing  his ability  to wield.  One  moment  he  was so drained  he
thought he might collapse, then   the flow of  ki’mera  produced a revitalising surge of energies
flowing throughout his heart and soul, his mind suddenly alive with the Power as he sensed
that his endurance had recovered more than adequately, compared to a solid two days sleep
and  full  sto mach  of  the  types  of  energizing  and  healing  sustenance  only  this  world  could
provide.
He  roared  in  defiance  as  he  altered  the  weaves  to  what  he  decided  then  and  there
would  be  called  Flame  Crosses.  Behind  the  walls  of  lightning,  fourteen  lines  of  blue  fire
appeared  standing  vertical,  each  as  thick  as  his  thigh.  A  second  flow  of  the  same  weave
created a second bar of flames that crossed over the first  to form a series of giant burning blue
crosses. These bars of fire hung suspended a foot above the ground and stood over fourteen
feet tall.  
With  a  slight  altering  of  the  weaves—as  brilliant  light  and  energy  churned  and
coalesced around his fists like neon sprites—t he giant crosses began to rotate, like aeroplane
propellers, churning through demon flesh to turn Nymloc and Jacoulra into charred congealed
lumps.  The demons  howled  in  terror as they  began to   attempt  retreat  from  th ose churning
discs of light, as  Adem made  a new alteration to the weaves, as  the Flame Crosses  began to
move  backwards  through  the  demon  ranks,  slowly  but  with  enough  speed  to  constantly
devour demon flesh before they could escape.
The  result  was  a  swift  massacre  of  a  large  portion  of  the  demon  masses,  bodies
imploded, crumpled and fell apart without spray of blood as the laser lights burned through
flesh while sealing the wounds at the same time, clumps of congealed flesh falling like small
boulders while other demons  melted  into pools  from  the heat, a surging dark butter oozing
onto the earth as the sounds of real fear began to erupt with in the enemy ranks.
If  he  could  have  maintained  these  weaves,  there  might  be  some  hope  of  victory;
however, those  Crosses  drained his strength like water leaking out of a bucket full of holes.
He thought he could have maintained them for longer if he were  linked with Carl and Wil, or
perhaps Orion and Tobin, but the two Immortal Kings were busily distracted making a mess
of what remained of those front lines, attacking in their own link with their wives to create
scores of Tigers and Lions, as well as waves of Pixies that tore through flesh or blasted skulls
to blood and ashes.
For  the  short  time  that  he  was  able  to  maintain  the  Flame  Crosses,  he  must  have
reduced the number of demons to less than fifty thousand. His army had suffered great losses
already, though he estimated it was only two or three thousand wounded or dead on the front
lines.  This  meant  the  two  armies  were  now  almost  equal  in  size,  they  were  no  longer
outnumbered almost two to one.
However, the question remained as to how many servants and soldiers had been killed
or bitten by  vampires deeper  within the  campsite. Every  time  he  looked back towards  the
centre  of  the  camp,  he  still  saw  hundreds  of  human  figures  flying  through  the  sky  or
swooping  down  to  take  a  victim.  That  problem  was  why  the   front  lines  were  lacking  in
defence; there were still thousands of wielders and soldiers trying to save the servants from
all being turned into vampires.
He  released  the  weaves  that  held  the  Flame  Crosses  together,  the  discs  of  light
vanished,  and  thousan ds  of  men  and  women  cried  out  in  despair  to  see  such  a  powerful
weapon disappear. They would know it meant Adem was becoming weak. Yet there was still
a great battle to be fought. During the time Adem had wielded the Flame Crosses, most other
wielders had  taken a break to rest, including Jean. She began to wield again the moment  the
discs of blue flame ended in their onslaught.
Her  method was different, though equal  in terms of annihilation. Walls of  goldenorange flame erupted ten feet high. She created t hese just behind the walls of lightning that
Adem was still able  to  maintain. Stones and  earth erupted  in  fountains of  fire that ripped
limbs from demon torsos and sent dark skulls flying in a spray of black blood.
The  Ael  Tarael assisted  her by creating  more walls of  flame alongside and behind
hers. Hundreds of Fire  Leopards charged out of those  walls of  flame to set demon  flesh to
fire, though their effect was minimal against such a force. The hundreds of Alit‘aren began
wielding lightning once more, foc using their attacks deep in the bulk of the demon ranks.  
They  seemed  determined  to  rip  out  the  core  of  the  army  before  it  advanced  upon
them. The result was a fireworks display of light and colour, including the constant flow of
flaming arrows sent  flying  from Lukrorian  Bows. Over a thousand  Guardians  had  formed
lines  behind  Adem  and  his  protectors,  their  arrows  hacked  down  the  front  ranks  creating
explosions and tearing demon flesh from bones.
This  gave  the soldiers and  Guardians on the outer defences a  chance to rest  for the
most  part,  despite  dozens  of  ram  or  bull  skulled  monsters  charging  forwards  though  the
blasts. They were usually hacked down with swords or axes, though occasionally a Jacoulra
would  break  through  the  front  lines  and  charge  towards  Adem  while  swinging  its  scytheshaped red blade.
Jacoulra could stand  up  to  nine  feet tall  and  most were built  like a bull, dark ram
skulled beasts with bull horns and sleek eyes that blazed crimson, or aqua, emerald, or gold.
Over  fifteen of the  massive creatures  made  it close to Adem and Jean, wounding or killing
dozens of soldiers and Guardians in their wake. Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren always encased the
demons in walls of fire before they could reach Adem or Jean.
Adem began to wonder about his friends. W il and the Dremelden riders had vanished
from  the  rear  lines  over  a  quarter  hour  ago.  There  was  still  no  sign  of  Carl  and  the  five
thousand cavalry. Had they deserted him? No! He would not believe that possible. So what
were  they planning? How  long  would  t hey wait?  He changed  the  lightning weaves to Fire
Serpents, the blue bolts moved outwards like a web of fire through the chests and torsos of
hundreds  of  demons,  burning  them  to  ash.  Sweat  beaded  on  his  brow,  his  breathing  was
desperate. He could not hold out much longer. Where were  they?
Teron consumed him, a mountain of ice crumbling into a sea of flames. He wanted  to
laugh from the ecstasy and bliss that filled him, to scream from the raging torrent that was the
Power, but the taint made him want to weep in despair.  Teron  made him feel as if his bones
were burning to ashes,  freezing to crystal  stone. Through  the  flood of agony and bliss  he
wondered, am I losing my mind? Is any of this even real?
He heard Arawn‘s  voice reply  in his  mind,  It is real, Son  of Odin. Don’t lose hope.
You must succeed!
***
Carl sat  in  the saddle of  the  grey colt  he  had borrowed  from one of Kelderath‘s soldiers.
Kelderath, Maldros, and Morthros were  mounted on either side of  his  horse  with  the  five
thousand cavalry behind them . They were all mortal soldiers and mortal horses though they
would do some damage to the demon ranks when they sounded the charge.
The thousand riders at the head of the charge held lances with two - foot steel points.
Behind them the remainder of the char ge would wield swords, spears, and axes to hack down
demons that avoided being trampled by their steeds.
Carl was anxious to ride out of the shadows and sound the charge though he waited
for the signal from Wil. They could not communicate with images to f orm words as they had
in  the  Chameleon  Arch.  In  the  waking  world,  the  kigare  only  provided  an  insight  to  the
emotions of those  you were connected  to. Thoughts could be presumed  from  reading  these
emotions  though  words  were  only   transferred  via  their  Battle  Angels,  which  would  have
otherwise  made it quite difficult to know when his friend was ready.
His sense of Wil was that he was hunting, searching the wilds for something, though
Carl had  no  idea  what  it was.  He seemed calm, almost at peace, though  he was  anxious to
fight also. Adem‘s emotions were a blurring of pain and bliss, the Power was taking control
of him.
He tried to send reassurance to him through the  kigare, a mood of determination and
courage, like a lion waiting to pounce. A similar emotion was returned by Adem, though he
was still fighting desperately, nearly completely drained of strength. Though Carl was certain
Adem understood that they had not abandoned him.
Carl and Wil  would  not  let Adem know the  secret plan they were devising, though
t heir Battle Angels had communicated to one another enough for each to know they had vital
tools within their minds and souls to give them a greater chance of victory. The reason they
could not tell one another more than this, for Carl‘s part at least, was  the fact that discussing
what  had  been  learnt  in  the  Chameleon  Arch  was  forbidden,  unless  during  shared
experiences, and  though Carl suspected Wil  had also  learnt some special  gift through that
experience, he understood that his friend could not explain an y further details.
―How  much  longer  must  we  sit  here  while  our  allies  are  being  slaughtered?‖
Kelderath asked. ―I would rather die than sit by like a coward in the dark!‖ Carl resisted the
urge to groan over that as he rode up and down the flanks of the riders to inspect each animal
with the expert eye of a man who was a hundred men, no!—a thousand men!—and hundreds
of them veterans of war leading cavalry charges, and in some of those lives, those men had
defeated armies ten times this size with half as many riders. They had some help, of course,
but  this  kind  of  memory  gave  Carl  an  edge  in  this  predicament  that  he  feared  his  fellow
generals might be lacking.
Kelderath was clever when it came to battle but foolish when it came to bravery. Carl
didn‘t want to  die. He wanted to be home with his wife and child. Instead, he was forced to
fight a battle he did not want to be a part of, in a strange land with strange people. Images
flashed  through  his  mind  of  ancient  Kismerian  battles,  memories  fr om  a  dozen  differe nt
lifetimes, some where he was a Lord of War, others a Master Magician.
They were residues of what he had witnessed in the Arch. Memories of men who had
fought and died for Kismeria. He knew them all, they were a part of him now, in a way they
were him. He didn‘t want to fight, but he had no choice. Kismeria was in his blood now, not a
strange land. It was his home, and they were his people, in some ways more so now than the
people of Earth.
What Carl and Wil were able to discuss was some form of battle plan, in that while
Wil waited to gather his special attack force, Carl waited on the opposite flank of the demon
hordes with his host of riders, and when the time was right, they would crush this enemy with
waves of magic and whatever else Wil had up his sleeve.
―On my signal we will charge head on into their flanks and ride till we reach the other
side or fall from our saddles trying! Be ready, the time is near! Drive through them in a wide
wedge twenty riders deep but keep a tight  formation, we‘ll pound them  into dust while the
outer riders hack them down with everything we‘ve got!‖
―Your plan sounds . . . optimistic Odin Son,‖ Kelderath said with a sickly expression.
―Might I suggest a more suitable tactic?‖
―I know what I‘m doing, Kelderath, in this insta nce you will follow my orders to the
letter. I know  it‘s risky, but without this daring  move we  will  not destroy  them before our
wielders tire completely. When the shields fail, our army will fall.
―We must strike hard now while we have the momentum.‖
―As  you command, Carl Wilder,‖ Kelderath said after a sigh, ―although I must admit
that this plan is  so risky, I fear this will be the day I meet my maker.‖
Horns sounded  in the distance as Carl  sensed Wil‘s alertness and determination rise
up  with  a  surge  of  ferociousness.  He  knew  his  friend  was  ready  to  fight!  His  sense  of
direction told  him Wil  was charging south towards the demon  flanks. Carl and   his cavalry
would charge north, attacking  from both sides in an attempt to  obliterate the  demon army  or
force th em  into a retreat.
He began to shout orders to Kelderath and his men, sounding the charge.
―Arvori  t‘kenek! Rukeni  lo‘akoth! Akroni  lo‘stansenis! Akroni ta‘reldumeld! Arvori
t‘kenek!‖
For a moment, Kelderath, Maldros, and Morthros sat staring at him with   unreadable
faces, though he would have guessed their eyes were attempting to hide their shock.
―You  speak  the  Immortal  Tongue?‖  Kelderath  asked.  It  was  only  then  that  Carl
realised  he  had  given  those  orders  in  the  language  of  the  Nordics.  He  had  never  bee n  an
immortal in any of those past lives, though many of those dead men who now filled his mind
had known the Immortal Tongue.
―Sound  the charge!‖  he  shouted  in  English.  ―Form the  lancers!  Ready axes!  Ready
your  swords! Sound the charge!  We‘ll make a mess of them even if we die trying! ‖
He booted  his  mount  into a swift  gallop  as  horns began  to sound behind  him.  The
thunder of hooves filled his ears;  horns continued as the black bulk of the demon army came
into view. They had hidden in a small cleft in the  landscape a half mile from the battle which
gave them the element of surprise.
Carl seized the Power.
Teron  flooded his veins with showers of fire and rivers of ice, the taint floating on that
river of light like rancid dark lava. When they were thirty p aces from the outer wall of dark
muscular demon bodies, Carl sent an arrow of Fire twelve paces wide to soften their entrance.
The  arrow  of  Fire  tore  through  demon  bodies,  sending  limbs  flying  in  all  directions  as  it
began to spread like a wild conflagrati on, surging through the demon masses to take the form
of cross wielding warriors standing eight feet tall, clubbing demons to crush skulls and split
hides  in  bursts  of  burning  crimson,  the  Warrior  Priests  soon  numbering  in  the  hundreds
despite Carl wielding on his own, as flames roared from the swipes of the burning crosses in
the form of raging red dragons!
He altered  the  weaves  to  make the  line of Fire spread  deeper  and  further  outwards
with  mad  vehemence, a scorching colossus turning blood and bone to  co ngealed slag and
vapour as  giant  spinning  crosses  of  golden - orange  flames  stood  upright  to spray   thousands
more  demons  with rivers of  fire;  just as  the ir  horses ploughed through the remaining  front
ranks, man and demon roaring in agony and bloodlust as the   ring of blades cutting swathes
through Nymloc armour and hacking into thick Jacoulra flesh like the Reaper Harvesting the
Crops, blood flying in dark bursts as thousands of scrambling dark bodies were cut down or
trampled under hooves!
Carl rode at the head of that column of riders that first plunged through the bulk of the
demon army—as the land dipped slightly to enter the shallower end of the long funnel in the
landscape where the demon army were clustered in hordes of tens of thousands —his crimson
spear tearing through demon flesh with bolts of thick tangled crimson flame, a massacre fit to
make the Old Gods chant in pride as  waves of  ki’mera  orbs filled his Resting Point,   and  he
heard Math Mathonwy speaking to his mind.
I am ready, Son of Odin! 
Carl shouted at the top of his lungs, ―Math Mathonwy!‖
Twelve Shadow Hounds charged out ahead of his horse, Carl heard the cry of wolves
to  the  north, thousands of  wolves, and  his curiosity almost sent  him off balance before  he
focused  the  weaves  again  to  obliterate  the  demon  masses  before  him  with  the  destructive
force known to few wielders throughout the Ages.
The  Hounds  split  to  become  thirty,  then  fifty  black  skinned  beasts  as  tall  as  their
horses, chomping down on skulls in dark sprays or shredding throug h armour, flesh and bone
with  claws  that  reduced  the  flying  flesh  to  charred  smoking  husks,  as  the  growls  of  the
Hounds joined the howling cacophony of the wolves evidently attacking in the distance, and
Carl had  more  than a hunch that  those wolves  had bee n commanded by Wil, evidently  his
friend had received extra special training in the Arch.
Hounds ploughed ahead through the demon ranks as Carl sent bursts of liquid flame
surging alongside their path in the form of ravenous red dragons, as Carl‘s unique t alent with
magic unified the dragons with the Hounds to morph into burning white dragons with skulls
that  flickered  from that of a dragon‘s jaws and  fangs to  that of a dark  headed  wolf with a
maw  gaping with razor sharp teeth that  gleamed  like polished steel, chewing  holes through
the enemy ranks while rivers of flame shot forth from the skulls of the Dragon- Wolves; the
elongated sinuous  forms of the  Elemental Spirits  tearing through demon  flesh  with dragon
claws and giant black wolf paws, as flames engulfed the demon ranks spraying outwards in
brilliant  crimson  sheets  or  blasts  of  pure  white  flame,  eradicating  demon  scum  in  the
purification of the Power.
Math‘s crimson cape morphed into view at the head of the Dragon- Wolf charge, his
burning  red  spear  cleaving  skulls  and  splitting  torsos  with  an  insatiable  bloodlust  of  an
Underworld Angel displaying invincible feats of carnage and retaliation against the ominous
threat of such vast hordes. With each swipe of the Hellfire Spear sheets of burning crimson
burst  forth in waves flying horizontal through the enemy ranks to incinerate demon flesh ten
ranks deep!
Soon they  were charging  so deep within the enemy  lines Carl knew  they would be
trapped  unless Wil succeeded to  meet them  halfway, and  he prayed those wolves   would be
their saviour as he heard their howls growing closer on the northern enemy flanks. The skies
were  a  wild  calamity  of  lightning  and  hail  of  burning  spheres  of  teron  and  terael  to  the
western side of the demon wedges, and some of that lightning was  falling close to the riders
though the wielders seemed at least now aware of their position, as they focused their attacks
further back from the charge to give them a chance to push though.
When Carl gave his position to Adem via their Battle Angels, he was soon surrounded
in walls of burning emerald, crimson and amber flames spouting fifteen feet high and racing
outwards in waves, within a short time after their communication, and this had been a part of
Carl‘s  hopes  for success, as dozens of  linked wielders created a  funnel of  fire  for them to
charge  straight  through,  demons  sizzled  like  sausages  before  bursting  into  flames  by  the
thousands as the host of riders began a fierce roar of courage and determination, the thunder
of hooves almost drowning out the thunder that tore the air with every bolt of lightning that
fell like a burning Spear or Blade.
He heard Wil speak to his mind via Dis Pater:  We are on our way to you,  my friend,
just keep going and don’t look back!
In the distance, with the Power  in his  veins, Carl  made out the dark furry shapes of
thousands  of  very  large  wolves  charging  through  the  demon  flanks,  biting  at  skulls  and
tearing down victims with the savage hatred of animals that were fighting beyond the simple
instinct of vicious predators, to them, these demons were a nightmare that needed to be wiped
off  the  face  of  the  planet.  They  barked  and  howled  with  savage  vehemence  as  they  tore
through demon flesh with almost the same speed and skill as Math‘s Hounds, though the wolf
packs were much   greater in number.
Carl dug in his heels and charged with increased speed and fervour as he altered the
weaves of the crimson bolts so that they spread outwards from the source in burning sheets
that sliced through demon bodies  like  hot knives through but ter, as effective as  lasers and
reducing the chance of losing momentum close to zero. Math and his Dragon- Wolves danced
within that crescendo of flames as glowing spirits of devastating destruction, carving a clear
path towards the oncoming masses of snarling ravenous wolves!
***
Wil sat in the saddle of a brown altherin  mare, the thousand Dremelden warriors behind him
in a wedge formation. Most were Reaven Archers or Wood Kin in the emerald masks of the
ghoda’sidhe,  with  some  Guardians  and  other  minor  wi elders.  Lord  Farrigan  and  Lady
Gwyndel sat their mounts to either side of him.
For  over  a  quarter  hour,  they  had  reached  out  with  their  minds  to  the  forests,
mountains, and fields, surrounding the demon army in search of animals to assist them in this
battle. Wil found he was able to speak with many animals with his mind since being reborn.
It  was  something  he  had  learnt  from  those  memories  of  immortal  men,  including  the
Dremelden warriors.
It seemed similar  to  the  kigare,  a bond of  mind and spirit  with a nimals  that  could
understand the  images and emotions  he sent through his thoughts. Wolves were  the  largest
force they could gather. Many packs had become aware of the demons since they arrived in
these lands through something they called the Moon Lake. Wil  didn‘t quite understand what
this was though he guessed it was some kind of portal that used the Power like the Travelling
Gates.
The packs  had begun to  hunt the demon army, calling other packs to them over the
past three days as the army was too large for a few packs to attack. When they heard the call
of Wil and the Dremelden warriors, they rushed down out of the  mountains and across the
fields to  join  their  mounted party.  There were so  many  wolf  names  filling Wil‘s  mind, so
many images  and scents  that  made up thoughts; he estimated there were at least a thousand
wolves hiding in the long grasses around their horses.
There were mountain lions also, a few bears, cougars and leopards, though only a few
hundred,  nothing  to  make  much  difference  in  a  battle  this  size.  Then  Wil  made  a  deep
throated  sound  like a growl, and all around them, wolves sprung  up out the  grasses,  much
more than he had guessed, nearly two thousand from what he could see.
He booted  his  horse  into  a charge, and the Dremelden  followed  in  a  thundering of
hooves. Wolf cries  filled  the  night air,  snarls and barks and savage  growls. Wil seized the
Power and unleashed a blast of golden flames that tore through the dark wedges of demons.
Wolves began to launch themselves at the outer edges of demon bodies, biting, clawing, and
howling  with bloodlust. When they  were only a  hundred paces  from  the outer edge of  the
demon army; the horses pulled up short, skidding to a halt.
The  wolves continued  to surge  forwards, overwhelming  the demons by strengt h of
numbers. The Wood Kin and Guardians raised their Lukrorian Bows from their saddles and
began to  unleash arrows.  There  were  not enough of  them to  survive a charge  through  the
heart of that army, but they cut a path for the wolves to bite and claw their   way through. To
the wolves, this was their fight, as they hated all Shadowspawn with a passion.
He  continued  to  wield  blasts  of  flame  to  do  some  damage  to  those  dark  muscular
wedges.  Ki’mera  flowed  towards  him  until  he  heard  Dis  Pater  speak  to  him  throug h  the
kigare.
I am ready, Son of Odin! Release me!  Wil shouted the name, ―Eledisren!‖
Hundreds of crows filled the dark night sky, swooping down to peck at demon flesh
and  skulls.  The  shadow  cloaked  form  of  Dis  Pater  emerged  from  a  murder  of  swooping
crows, the ten - feet- tall figure swinging his golden battleaxe to sever demon skulls in sprays
of dark blood. As the Battle Angel began to plough through the demon ranks, Wil roared and
began  to  follow with  his  golden axe  swinging  wildly.  The  Dremelden  horsemen  followed,
drawing blades and roaring  with rage, wolves  flanking them to  form a shield of teeth and
claws.
***
Adem  was tiring  to the point of exhaustion.  His sense of Jean  was that she  too was at  her
limit. Druantia still hovered high in the sky, her Gr een Men still ploughed through the dark
masses, crushing demon bodies with their feet and fists. Druantia must have been stronger to
have lasted so long without rest. His own attacks had diminished to the walls of lightning and
Fire Serpents.  
Jean and the  Ael Tarael still wielded walls of flame, and the Alit‘aren and Guardians
still provided a  show of  fire attacks. What  had  changed  was Carl and Wil  had joined  the
battle! Adem was overjoyed to sense their rage rising through the  kigare, then to see Carl‘s
cavalry and Wil‘s Dremelden begin to plough through the demon ranks.
He heard the cry of wolves also, thousands of wolves, coming from the same area as
Wil  and  the  immortals.  Then  he  saw  Shadow  Hounds  attacking  from  the  right  and  crows
swooping  in  from  the  left,  which  told  him  their  Battle  Angels  had  joined  the  fight.  Jean
shouted, ―Tanriel!‖ Adem heard his Battle Angel through the  kigare  saying, I am ready, Son
of Odin!  Adem shouted, ―Arawn!‖
Adem sensed all five Battle Angels Link. Storm clouds suddenly covered the sky in a
swirling  grey  vortex.  Lightning  began  to  fall  from  the  clouds,  fifty  bolts,  a  hundred,  a
thousand, aqua, emerald, golden, crimson fire. The thick bolts struck the skulls and hearts of
demons to release blasts of fire that sent dark bodies flying in pieces.
Tanriel  appeared  beside  Druantia,  throwing  down  hundreds  of  crimson  spears  that
exploded outwards with walls of fire. Green Men rose from the earth within the demon bulk
until there were thirty of the giants.
Over a hundred Shadow Ho unds charged through the masses while Arawn‘s shadow
form  flew  into  the  front  lines  of  demon  ranks  to  release  over  two  hundred  Fire  Lions.  A
powerful roar erupted from the soldiers and Guardians protecting the front lines.
Then the Alit‘aren and Ael Tarae l began to unleash their most powerful attacks; many
were  linked to produce  massive  fireballs and  walls of  fire  five paces thick.  The  Guardian
archers behind Adem unleashed waves of arrows, and the front defenders began to move into
an attack, charging for ward to hack and slash at demon skulls.
Ki’mera  flowed to Adem and Jean like rivers of light, charging them up, giving them
strength.  Despite  this,  Adem  felt  ready  to  collapse  right  there  in  the  saddle,  though  his
determination kept him sitting straight as he continued to wield the lightning.
He wanted to do something more, to unleash some final attack to settle the score, but
he could barely hold the weaves necessary for the Fire Serpents. Then Arawn taught him a
new weave, and Adem called them Jade Warr iors.
Fifty  figures rose  up out of  the  ground, each  ten  feet tall,  each a  figure of  emerald
light  in the  form of a samurai.  That  was  Adem‘s choice about  how they  would  look;  they
could have been in any shape or form.
These Jade Warriors wielded giant blades of green fire that they immediately began to
swing left and right, hacking through demon flesh and severing dark skulls. They were fast
too, moving their blades similar to spinning saws.
This would be his last effort. He felt he could hold those weaves for another quarter
hour at the most. He was only able to perform those weaves as they drained his strength less
than the Flame Crosses. The Jade Warriors moved deep into the demon ranks, though he kept
them at a distance from Carl‘s and Wil‘s forces.
He could not see far enough to be sure he would not make a mess of them too if they
got  too  close.  Ki’mera  fed  the  Battle  Angels,  increasing  the  strength  and  volume  of  their
attacks with the wielders unleashing their full power. The earth erupted in flames,   lightning
flared in the skies as balls of fire, and flaming arrows hailed down upon the demon army until
the battle  field  was over two  miles of black smoking  husks;  minions of  the  Battle Angels
ravaging any surviving demons that twitched or growled on the   ground.
Adem turned to see Jean fall forwards in the saddle with exhaustion. Terese was by
her side to pull her from the saddle in a heartbeat. Adem wanted to collapse, but he did not
want anyone to see him show signs of weakness. Great cheers began amongst the masses and
from deeper in the camp that must have included servants and  sei’vani.
Tanriel and Druantia returned to their Resting Points as Jean was helped to stand with
her arm over Terese‘s shoulder. The male Battle Angels then returned to their R esting Points,
and Arawn flew towards him to be consumed by the hilt of his blade in a flash of light.
As  they  did,  the  Shadow  Hounds,  Fire  Lions,  Green  Men,  crimson  spears,  and
scavenging  crows  ceased  to  exist.  Carl  and  Wil  still  led  their  patrols  throug h  the  fields,
lancers  stabbing  at  demon  husks  and  Guardians  and  Wood  Kin  occasionally  unleashing  a
flurry of flaming arrows to make a small bonfire of demons.
Adem could make out the dark furred shapes of thousands of wolves surrounding Wil
and the Dremel den. They snarled as they sniffed at demon corpses. Arawn explained through
the kigare that the Dremelden had always been able to speak to animals, especially wolves.
Orion and  Tobin were at  his side on  their dark steeds  minutes  later, Tobin saying,
―You  must rest, Adem Highlander. I would break camp and ride out immediately if it were
possible, though we will need you to be refreshed if there is a second attack.‖
―How  did  they  get  here?‖  Adem  asked  wearily,  though  his  jaw  was  clenched.  He
knew there was something they had not told him. Something they were keeping secret. ―Was
it the Shadow Men? Who  are  they? Why will you not speak of them? If they are responsible
for this attack, I deserve to know the truth!‖ The two kings looked at one another, their face s
grim in the moonlight, before Tobin said; ―First rest, then we will talk.‖
Chapter
13
The Honour Code
The  camp  was  in  ruin  further  in;  tents  were  pulled  down,  some  burning  from  spreading
campfires or wielders. Burnt vampire bodies numbered in the thousands, including some with
heads or arms torn off and lying beside the corpses. As he moved his horse back towards his
own tent, Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren moved about seeing to the Healing.
There were thousands of servants and soldiers wounded deeper in the camp. Maybe a
thousand or more were bitten by vampires and would turn in three moons. Arawn explained
that they would not want food for those three days, or water, as the thirst for blood began to
rise in their souls. Adem was very concerned about what t heir fate would be; they could not
turn them  loose to become a  horde of scavenging  vampires, draining the blood of  innocent
farmers and villagers.
It was a disease that  had  to be stopped  like cutting off an  infected  limb. He sighed
deeply when Arawn expla ined that they would all be decapitated and burnt. Healing could do
nothing for the vampire curse. They were doomed. Adem didn‘t like it, but he understood this
was their ways, and he could do more damage by interfering with their laws.
Carl  and  Wil  rode  their  mounts  to  either  side  of  his  horse,  a  swarm  of  Guardians
surrounding them on foot with blades or bows ready like stalking leopards. The wolves had
vanished into the wilderness, their cries still sounding in the distance all around. He wanted
to  questi on  Wil  about  that,  about  whether  Wil  had  learnt  to  speak  to  wolves  through  his
experiences  in  the  Chameleon  Arch,  but  he  kept  silent.  Carl‘s  bravery  and  battle  cunning
seemed  something  new  also,  and  he  suspected  his  friends  had  learnt  much  through  their
rebirth. It seemed unfair that they should all be keeping secrets from one another, though it
was forbidden to speak of such things.
A  vampire  with  a  missing  arm  leapt  to  his  feet  and  flew  through  the  air  towards
Adem, a long dagger clutched in his fist. He  created the weaves to unleash a ball of red fire
when  four arrows of  flame struck the  flying  man simultaneously.  The  man  fell  in a ball of
coloured  flames, rolling on  the  ground and screaming as  his  flesh turned to ashes to  leave
remains of charred and crumbling bones.
Soldiers and  Guardians  still  patrolled the camp, stopping  to stick a sword or spear
through the heart of a twitching  vampire. Even steel through the heart could kill a  vampire
due to the severity of the wound and the amount of blood loss. Silver was better for keeping
them dead, but silver was not as strong as steel.
Carl  looked  enraged  when  Adem  looked  across  at  his  face.  Adem  knew  Math
Mathonwy must have been explaining to Carl about the fate of the infected men and women.
It seemed unthinkable that they would kill women! But they were no longer just human, they
were becoming evil.
―We can‘t let them do it!‖ Carl shouted suddenly as they were nearing their tent. Carl
dismounted and handed the reins to a nearby Guardian wearing a blue mask and gauntlets. He
waited  for  his  friends to climb down  from their saddles before  he said,  ―I  will speak with
Orion and  Tobin. Perhaps something else can be arranged.  Though, I don‘t  have a  viable
solution at this point in time.‖
―It would be  murder, Adem!‖ C arl shouted  in a rage.  ―Their blood  will be on  your
hands! I will not stand for it! We came here to help these people, not to murder them! Think
of your duty to God, Adem.
―Think of your immortal soul. If you allow this, I fear there will be no hope for you.‖
That struck a chord with  Adem, and suddenly  he  felt  rage welling  up  inside  himself as  he
asked,  ―Are  you  saying  I  will  have  no  place  in  Heaven?‖  He  emphasised  the  capital  as
Heaven was a place and therefore not a common noun. ―What about my faith? Wha t of my
duty to these people? We can‘t allow a thousand men and women to walk free when they will
become bloodsuckers in three days‘ time! The Free Lands have been cleansed of the vampire
covens  for  more than three thousand years.‖  That  last was Arawn‘s  instructions  giving  him
the right words. ―Before that, the night brought fear to all men and women, when plagues of
vampires  walked  in  the  shadows,  seeking  out  victims  asleep  in  their  beds.  Now  they  are
banished to the South Lands where they can walk in the  daylight due to the dark clouds that
cover the skies from the eruptions of Kerak‘Otozi.
―They are a weapon of the Dark One! A disease so terrible  it could bring about the
demise of an entire civilization. I don‘t agree with it, Carl! I don‘t want blood on  my hands
either! But what other choice do we have?‖
They  were  inside  the tent  now, the  mirrored  lamps casting dark shadows on Carl‘s
twisted  scowl.  Wil  moved  to  sit  silently  on  his  bed.  He  sat  cross - legged  with  his  elbows
propped on his knees and his chin resting on his palms. He sighed deeply in that silence that
stretched until Carl replied, ―We could send them away, with food and water, so what if they
won‘t want the rations. It‘s the humane thing to do. We can‘t kill women, Adem.
―It would be a very  large black mark against your name in the eyes of God. Killing
innocent men is nearly as bad and would bring about just as much damage to your soul.
―They should be set  free,  to turn and  hunt, and to be  hunted  in  turn and die as evil
creatures rather than  innocent men and women. It may bring about a new age of the vampire
clans. I agree that is a problem, but I can‘t accept your thinking on this issue.
―If you don‘t want blood on your hands, then do something about it. You are the great
appointed leader o f the Saviours. It is your call.‖ There was derision dripping from his voice
at the last.
Adem stood silently for some time, his hand clutching the hilt of his blade, not as a
threat, just as a reflex to still his temper. Carl propped his spear of crimson  fire against the
bedpost  and  sat  with  his  legs  crossed  and  hands  in  prayer  position.  Adem  felt  his  face
twitching with  nerves at the  thought of being  left on  Earth  in purgatory  like the  ghosts of
Bright. He feared that much more than he feared death.
―All  right,‖ Adem said finally, ―I will go and speak to the kings and tell them there is
a change of plans.‖ A  look of  hope blossomed  in Carl‘s eyes as he asked, ―You will spare
their  lives?‖  Adem  grinned  before  he  said,  ―I‘m  sure  it  will  sound  to  them  like  I  a m
suggesting they let a large pack of wolves walk free, knowing they will slaughter their sheep.
―But  these  are  human  lives  at  stake.  I  agree  it  is  too  risky.  I  could  not  stand  the
thought  of  rejection  from  God.  I  could  not  abide  it  to  be  cursed  for  etern ity,  a  ghost
wandering the Earth, consumed by evil to become a thing of nightmares. I have been haunted
by those memories for many years, and I will not accept that fate. Though, you ask a lot from
me, Carl Wilder. You ask me to save lives only to let more die or become Nightwalkers.‖
That name came from Arawn also, a common name for vampires. ―How can I be sure
that will not amount to more blood on my hands?‖
―I can‘t guarantee anything,‖ Carl said slowly,  ―but I know this  is the right thing to
do.‖
Adem   scowled at that, more uncertainty, more complications, so much responsibility.
Finally he said, ―You two stay here and get some rest. Sleep if you can. You will need your
strength if we are to face another attack. I will go and speak to Orion and Tobin. I   will see
what I can do.‖  
He  then  marched  towards  the  tent  flaps  to  push  them  back  and  step  out  into  the
moonlight.  The  moon  was  half  full  and  gave ample  light, bathing  the camp  in a blue  hue.
Campfires still burnt, throwing light against shining armour a nd the glint of steel.
Seven  Guardians  in  the  red  masks  and  gauntlets  of  the  ghoda’sidhe  moved  to
surround  him with  their blades drawn as  he  made  his way towards Orion‘s  tent.  He  found
both kings standing over a large oak desk, studying maps held down wit h iron paperweights
in the form of eagles. They looked up when he entered alone, their faces wrought with worry
in  the  lamplight.  Both  still  wore  burnished  armour  over  their  dark  coats,  their  Guardian
cloaks thrown over nearby chairs.
―You should be resting, Adem Highlander,‖ Orion said in his deep tones. They nearly
always called Adem by his first and last name. It was a custom of the immortals, though not
so common when speaking to their own kind. Adem took it as a badge of honour rather than
an annoyance. It was a sign of their innocence, naming him the way a child would.
He unpinned his dark cloak and threw it over a nearby high- backed chair carved with
vines and worked in gilt.
―We need to talk,‖ Adem said sternly. He then explained the issue of the in fected men
and  women,  stating  that  Carl  Wilder  was  ordering  changes  be  made  to  custom  and  law
regarding victims of vampires. The two men tried to argue, with Adem defending his claims
like  a  stone  wall.  He  was  still  on  edge  with  both  of  them  for  keeping  se crets  about  the
Shadow Men.
Eventually, they caved and agreed they would set them free. They tried to argue that it
was pointless providing them with food and water though Adem insisted these were the terms
of Carl Wilder, the will of one of the Chosen. Adem admitted he saw great flaws in the plan
though he emphasised his desire to preserve his soul.
―We bring to Kismeria the teachings of Jesus Christ. You do not know this man, but
on Earth, he is our one True King, the Son of God. We must impose the teach ings of our Lord
on to your people. It is as vital to your own souls as to ours, I believe. To murder innocent
men and women is a great sin, worthy of great punishment from the Lord God. There would
be too much blood on our  hands to wash away.‖  The two kin gs stood staring  into his eyes
with graven expressions before Tobin said, ―Your Lord Jesus is a forgiving man; is he, Adem
Highlander?‖
―He teaches us to forgive and befriend our enemies,‖ Adem said. ―I understand that
cannot apply in regard to Nymloc and  Jacoulra, but men and women who have not yet been
turned are still human beings. We cannot slaughter them like animals.‖
―We  cannot  let  a  thousand  or  more  potential  vampires  loose  a  day‘s  ride  from
Nordhel,‖ Tobin said heatedly. ―We could return to find the entire city is infected. They will
fly over the walls and spread the disease to every man, woman, and child.‖
―Riders should leave immediately to warn Nordhel,‖ Adem replied. ―A curfew must
be enforced to keep everyone inside by nightfall. The watch shou ld be doubled, and everyone
should remain cautious  until  it  is deemed safe. Perhaps  hunts should be organised  in three
day‘s time to try to put down as many as we can.‖
―That  is  sound  advice,  Adem  Highlander,‖  Tobin  replied  with  a  deep  frown.  ―We
agree to  your terms.‖ Orion then called two of the Guardians in and explained the change of
plans. They were ordered to spread the word as  fast as possible to save anyone  from being
exterminated.
―I  understand  some  will  die  within  those  three  days  from  their  wounds ,‖  Adem
explained, that was Arawn‘s knowledge again. ―You will order the Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael
to Heal anyone infected who looks like they will not survive.‖ Again the kings tried to argue,
but Adem would not relent.
When the Guardians left, Adem moved  to take a seat before he said to the two kings,
―Please, sit, and tell me everything I need to know about these Shadow Men.‖
The two kings  looked to one another  warily, before they both took seats behind the
desk,  and  Tobin  started  to  recite  the  history  of  the  Accursed.  It  was  the  story  of  twelve
immortal men who were once great Warriors of the Light.
Neither  could  explain  the  whole  of  why  these  men  became  evil,  though  their
explanations suggested it was the same darkness that could grow in the hearts of  mortal men,
greed and a thirst for power, a growing hatred and mistrust for all who served the Lord God.
Over  time,  these  men  became  organized,  plotting  together  to  bring  war  and
destruction to the Free Lands. That was during the Bone Wars, when the Free   Lands became
overrun with demons that surged through the defences of the Green Border. It was presumed
that  the Accursed  had played  a part  in organizing that  invasion,  through dealings with  the
Dark One during their visits to Kerak‘Otozi. During those vis itations, the Dark One changed
those twelve men, from wielders of the Power into the Shadow Men. They were changed by
the Dark One into his Dark Generals.
They  became  stronger  in  their  abilities,  wielding  the  Dark  One‘s  Power  that  they
called  the  Dark  Tra il.  The  Accursed  had  survived  for  over  four  thousand  years,  bringing
death and chaos wherever they decided to strike. Neither of the two kings  understood how
such  a  large  force  could  have  been  transported  past  the  Green  Border  without  raising  the
alarm of all nations.
Adem  suggested  the  Travelling  Gates,  but  the  kings  explained  that  that  had  never
been possible before.  The Portals  were  made  with the Lord‘s Power,  which destroyed any
Shadowspawn that tried to pass through them.
―But  the  Gates are tainted  now!‖ Adem said.  ―Is  it possible they are able to travel
through them now? If so, we must send more riders to every kingdom close to one of those
Gates to seal them up, so this does not happen again!‖
The kings agreed this was the only possible explanation. Adem mentioned the warped
mist that the Shadow Man had appeared out of when he cast the Spear of Odin. Again  the
kings insisted that this spell still used the Lord‘s Power in most part, as the Power of the Dark
One was originated from God. The Shadow Men  had never used that ability to bring demons
through stone walls.
―Why do we  not know that ability,  to  move through space with the Power?‖ Adem
asked. ―It would be a great advantage.‖
The kings explained  that  it was  magic that  had  never been  learnt or  understood by
any  Wielder  of  the  Light.  It  was  something  the  Dark  One  had  taught  the  Accursed,  and
though  many  had  witnessed  the portals, the  weaves  were  hidden so  that  they could  not be
copied. It was the same for Adem when he had seen that Shadow Man appea r in his room.
He could see that the Power was involved, but not how it was made.  
―If  they  have  this  ability,  we  must  learn  it  too,‖  Adem  insisted,  but  none  of  them
could think of how that would be possible. He questioned Arawn on this, but his Battle An gel
explained  that there were some  things  the  Dark One kept secret, even  from  Angels of  the
Underworld.
***
Jean collapsed face down on her bedspread, her arms hanging over the sides as she kicked off
her boots.
―You need rest,‖ Terese lectured. ―I‘ll get  some herbs to help you sleep.‖ Jean didn‘t
argue. Just the thought of another attack made her skin crawl, and she doubted she would get
any sleep without the herbs. Even then her dreams would become plagued with nightmares,
she  was certain about that. Whe n she closed  her eyes, the screams of dying  men  filled  her
mind, just memories of those screams, but that was enough to make her shiver. When Terese
returned  with  a  steaming  mug  that  smelled  of  cinnamon  and  parsley  and  other  herbs,  she
didn‘t know the names of, she  gulped  it down despite the bitter taste.  ―Now sleep,‖ Terese
said like a mother watching over her child.
Jean closed her eyes again; visions of men being torn apart by black claws filled her
mind.  She  tried  to  chase  them  away  with  images  of  flowers  in  fields  and  sunshine  and
rainbows, but the images always returned, along with the memory of their screams.
When  she  finally  did  sleep,  her  dreams  were  different  than  she  had  expected.  She
dreamed of Adem, the two of  them chasing one  another through  the  hallways of Nordhel,
sometimes he hunted her and vice versa. Sometimes his face changed to that of a black ram
skulled beast with eyes of flame. She ran from him then, until his face returned and then she
would chase him, pulling him down to kiss his lips and play with his coat buttons.
Those dreams lasted most of the five hours she was able to stay asleep. Six hours was
common  for  her, but  the  returning  images of the battle brought  her awake  with a startled
scream.  Terese  was  leaning  over  her  to  brush  her  damp,  matted  hair  from  her  brow,
whispering to her that she was safe. It was past first light, the walls of the tent, glowing with
the light of the rising sun.
She knew  it was a warm day without even stepping outside. The air  in the tent was
dry but  comfortable. She wiped the remaining sweat from her face and stood to clean herself
behind the changing screen that was decorated with birds of many colours. She washed her
body with damp cloth dipped  in a pot of warm water, scrubbing  her body with a perfu med
soap and finishing with sprays of perfume.
She could handle this living outdoors so long as her needs were met adequately. She
stretched, yawned, dried herself, and slipped into some fresh undergarments, then stepped out
from behind the screen to search the large chests for something to wear.
A golden skirt, yellow boots, and coat were her second choice which she wore with
white stockings. She did not wait long before belting on her sword and fastening the harness
of  her bow case over  her breasts.  Terese  insisted she wear her armour though the only two
available didn‘t go with her outfit. The impossible woman then called a servant in who ran to
fetch a golden breastplate! It wasn‘t that she didn‘t understand the  need  for safety; she just
considered it  more important that she not look the fool in front of Adem.
―You will look even more beautiful in your shiny armour, Miss Perfect,‖ Terese said
chidingly as  if  reading  her thoughts.  Two serving  girls then entered bearing  trays of  fresh
porridge with honey,  dried pears, apples, and mugs of goat milk. When the dark- eyed young
woman set down her tray, Jean noticed twin bite marks, like a snake bite, on her neck!
She tried to remain calm until the two women had left the tent before she told Terese,
―That girl  was bitten!‖ Terese then related Adem and Carl‘s new declaration that innocents
infected by the vampire disease were to be spared and allowed to walk free. ―You see,‖ Jean
said proudly, ―he‘s not mad, he cares.‖
Terese‘s retort was that, ―It is madness to allow this disease to spread again.‖
***
Adem  woke  from  nightmares  after  only  three- hour  sleep.  This  did  nothing  good  for  his
symptoms, the lack of sleep or the nightmares. At breakfast, Carl was happy to see two of the
serving girls enter with bite marks on their necks. He wasn‘t glad they were bitten, just that
they were still alive.
Adem ate his porridge  in a sullen  mood.  His  thoughts  were absorbed  in what to do
about the Travelling Gates. The scouts had left in the night on their  altherin  horses to  send
word to every keep, hold, fortress, or kingdom close to any of the Portals though the kings
had explained they were not sure they could be sealed in a way that could stop the Shadow
Men from opening them again.
They couldn‘t be destroyed, even with t he Power, so the only option was that they be
guarded. That would require a small force of wielders or an enormous army to keep watch at
every Gate from now until the Great Battle.
Even  that  would  not  assure  the  chance  of  a  demon  army  of  enormous  size  being
transported at any time. The only possible solution was to find a way to copy the portals used
by the Shadow Men. The idea of capturing one of the Accursed and forcing them to give up
their secrets seemed suicidal. The last hope lay in Carl‘s theory abo ut wormholes.
He discussed his theory with Carl over breakfast and found some interesting theories
were  returned.  Carl  was  almost  certain  he  could  now  increase  the  size  of  one  of  the
wormholes to something large enough to walk through. ―Where it would lead to is something
I do not know the answer to,‖ Carl said glumly. ―I have considered making the attempt, but I
feared it could open in the East Lands, or the South Lands, or at Kerak‘Otozi! There is great
risk in this, Adem.‖ There was a risk, to be sure,  but the need outweighed the risks.
―Think on it,‖ Adem said. ―Let me know when you come up with something.‖
As  he  stood  to  make  his  way to  his bedside, Carl said,  ―I‘m proud of  you, Adem.
Saving all those lives, you really did something good this time.‖  
Adem  grunted before buckling on  his sword belt and  fastening  his bow case straps
across his chest. He left without another word, wearing a grimace. The camp was in the final
process of packing up tents and loading wagons.
Most  of  the  Nordics  were  already  mounted  and  forming  a  defence  around  the
campsite. He saw Jean riding her white mare with Terese riding beside her on a grey horse.
The dead had been buried where they fell, a huge grave for over two thousand soldiers and
over two hundred Guardians.
Carl  and Wil sat their  mounts close to the  graves, and Carl saying prayers  for their
souls.  Adem  noticed  Torin  standing  there  also,  making  signs  and  gestures  as  if  he  were
saying a prayer in the immortal way.
An  hour or  so  later,  the  last  tents were dissembled  and packed  while  Adem  trotted
around  in  the  saddle.  Guardians  followed  him  as  he  patrolled  the  still  smoking  bones  of
vampires. The thousand or more infected soldiers and servants formed a wedge that began to
wander back towards Nordhel.
Maybe they hoped  they would still be welcomed home. There was no chance of that
now though. Some remained, mostly women, staring wide eyed or pleading for help, crying
or screaming as they pulled at the coats of men who ignored their pleas. It was a horrific fate.
His heart was heavy when he looked into the eyes of those desperate women.
Carl and  Wil joined  him on their brown  horses  not  long after, and then they were
joined by Tobin and Orion,  Torin and Kailus, all  mounted and wearing  armour over their
coats. A half hour or so later, the horses began to move and the carts began to roll.
They would push the cart horses faster today to try to get some distance between them
and  the  Travelling  Gate.  Moving  such  a  massive  force  after  nightfall  was  not  an  option
however.  They  wo uld  have  to  make camp  and wait out their  fate.  Arawn was weary  from
battle. The Battle Angel would not be able to fight so hard if they were attacked tonight.
The  last  of  the  frantic  women  were  left  behind,  still  wailing  with  tears  streaming
down their ch eeks. He saw Jean looking at the infected women with a pained expression. He
hoped none of them returned in search of blood. Crows and ravens had gathered on the fields,
thousands  of  them  feeding  on  demon  carcasses.  The  wielders  had  made  huge  pyres  to
vaporize as much demon flesh as they could, though miles of dark congealed flesh remained.
It was a feast for the spies of the Dark One.
***
Tairark  Vampireking  watched  the  Highlander  army  slowly  moving  off  through  the
fields  in the  morning  light. He and  Torkhan remained  hidden  in the  forest, watching with
hatred as the campsite was dissembled. The next time the Highlander boy would need more
than his windmills of fire to put a stop to their forces.
The  Great  Lord  would  not  be  pleased  however.  He  had  expected  a  complete
annihilation of the Saviours. The Great Lord had instructed Tairark to crush them and leave
none  alive.  He  didn‘t  relish  the  idea  of  returning  to  Kerak‘Otozi  to  report  his  failure.
Punishment could be brutal, even for one of the Appointed.
―He  is getting stronger,‖ Torkhan whispered like a soft rumble of thunder. ―How long
before we are outmatched?‖ Tairark wondered about that same question. They would have to
strike soon to ensure that did not transpire. His only reply was, ―We are leaving.‖
Then he made a hole in the air, warping reality to make two places join much like the
methods Souljhin used to move from one place to another through shadows. Passing through
that portal to enter the heart of Kerak‘Otozi would be a world of pain and suffer ing for any
but the Appointed, though for Tairark, it was home. So the Sons of Odin had decided to spare
those who were bitten by vampires, a sign of weakness; he began to think of ways he could
exploit that knowledge.
He stepped through the portal to enter a dark tunnel with cave like walls that flowed
down around him like mud sliding down mountains, flames danced on those walls and further
ahead.  He  moved swiftly towards the  glowing beacon at the end of  the tunnel, the  heart of
Kerak‘Otozi.
He  was aware  of  Torkhan trailing  him, aware of  his  unease over  facing the  Great
Lord.  When  they  reached  the  end  of  the  tunnel,  they  stood  on  a  black  stone  bridge  that
extended halfway towards the cylindrical walls of flame that burst upwards from the endless
depths.
The beacon of flames rose in a funnel of dark cave walls that was large at the bottom
and  becoming  smaller  towards  the  top.  It  was  Mount  Kerak‘Otozi,  the  fountains  of  fire
erupted  from  the  opening  at  the  tip  of  the  mountain,  the  volcano,  spreading  dark  clouds
across the Eastlands and the Southlands.
In  the  Eastlands, the dark skies  nearly  held back all  tree and plant  life and stunted
those that could survive the harsh conditions. In the Southlands, where vampires roamed, the
clouded skies were intermittent;  giving vampires the ability to walk outside during the day if
the clouds were thick enough.
Plants and trees  grew  well  in the Southlands despite  these conditions, allowing  the
farmers and villagers of those lands to raise crops and farm animal stock, whic h provided the
base diet for most vampires.
Occasionally, a  vampire  would creep  into a  young  woman‘s bedroom at  night and
feed on  her, though  it  was rare that he  would drain  her to the point of death,  nor would  he
turn her unless he was in search of a bri de. Otherwise, the only human victims were men to
add to the vampire covens. The order that vampires were to feed on cows, bulls, sheep, goats,
or even rats  if  they had  to was  given by Tairark, over twelve  hundred  years ago,  when the
amount of humans alive  in the Southlands was dwindling.
The  vampires  left the Southlands  to enter the Free Lands to  hunt  for  human blood.
The thousands that made it north of the Spines of the Great Dragons by feeding and flying at
night were slowly exterminated by the people o f the Free Lands who did not want a return of
the vampire covens. Eventually, Tairark‘s plan was that he would rebuild his vampire armies
slowly but surely  in the Southlands  in wait  for  the days of  the  Return,  when Kerak‘Otozi
would cover the Free Lands in darkness and his vampire army could invade.  
Those  would  be  the  end  of  days  as  crops  failed  and  animals  starved;  the  humans
would lose their food source. And the lands would be swarming with vampires and demons,
thirsty for blood.
Tairark and Torkhan waited at the edge of the bridge with the heat of the fountain of
fire bathing  him  in  its rich  glow. The  fire rose thousands of  feet above them and  was over
five hundred feet wide at their level and growing larger as it descended into the earth.
The  fountain  of  fire  would  glow  golden- orange,  then  crimson  fire,  jade- green
fountains, then eruptions of blue light, then purple, then white hot, the stolen Powers of the
Great Angels that  fed the Dark One  in  his Resting Point. Then  they heard the  voice of the
Great Lord, a thundering echo of evil that filled their minds with agony like thousands of tiny
needles burning inside their skulls.
YOU  HAVE FAILED  ME,  TAIRARK! MY ORDERS WERE EXPLICIT! NONE
WERE TO BE LEFT ALIVE! YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR INCOMPETENCE!
The pain rushed from his skull to flow through his veins like molten lava, frying his
bones, melting his flesh. The agony continued as the Great Lord spoke again.
YOU SHOULD  HAVE TAKEN PART IN THE BATTLE! YOU WOULD HAVE
DEFEATED THEM IF YOU HAD! I SHOULD MAKE AN EXAMPLE OF YOU!
That spawned true  fear  in Tairark‘s dark heart. He was no coward though he feared
death. Death was not the end for those who served the Great Lord, it was only the beginning.
The  Great  Lord  had  promised  that  Tairark  and  his  Brothers  would  one  day  become  Dark
Angels of the Low Realm if they succeeded at the Great Battle. If the Great Lord decided to
kill him before then, he would become a slave of torture and agony in the depths of Hell.
―I  will  not  fail  you,  Great Lord!‖ Tairark pleaded with  his  hands raised towards the
pillar of flames. ―Give me this chance to prove my worth!‖ For a time, the only sound was
the roar of the flames rushing up through the darkness.
THIS WILL BE YOUR LAST CHANCE, IF YOU FAIL ME AGAIN! THESE ARE
MY ORDERS!
Chapter
14
The Holy Cross
Torin Modrellock sat the saddle of Spark, his dark warhorse, riding with Kailus Broeduthar to
his right, and King  Tobin and King Orion  to  his  left  mounted on  their black stallions.  He
wore the dark coat and trousers of an Alit‘aren w ith brown leather boots turned down at the
knee.  His armour was black  worked with  silver dragons, the sigil of Corderant, an ancient
House he was descended from.
‗The  Silver  Dragon  rides  the  waves,‘  was  a  saying  about  the  nobles  of  Corderant.
Though Torin did not consider himself as a lord as his bloodline was divided so far from that
House that he  no  longer  had the right to claim  himself a  noblemen. House Corderant were
seafarers as are nearly all Sea Immortals. Three thousand years ago, Medai Corderant,  High
Seat of House Corderant, was Ship Captain of the Fleet of Wavewardens, hundreds of Great
Warships that sailed the coasts, providing protection from potential invaders. The Free Lands
had  suffered attacks  from  invaders  from across  the seas  hundreds of  times throughout  the
Ages.
Some  of  those  tribes  had  settled  in  the  West  Lands  to  build  their  own  nations,
including the Brisdons and Akiens, the Honds, and the Makions. They were mostly tall strong
warriors, taller by a head and shoulders than the average  mortals of the Free Lands.
They often formed clans of the four tribes to invade by force and overwhelm the small
outposts  and  keeps  that  guarded  the  coasts.  There  hadn‘t  been  an  invasion  for  over  two
thousand years; however, the last of those invaders either made Kismeria their home or they
were either slaughtered or sent fleeing in their war ships.
Torin discussed these histories with Kailus as they rode slowly through the fields with
scattered pine and oak trees, rabbits and deer grazing on the green pa sture. They had taken a
share of a large herd of deer earlier in the day, fourteen large kills that would help to supply
rations to the massive army.
They  left over a  hundred  to ensure the survival of the  herd and didn‘t kill  the  head
stag as  immortals co nsidered this a sacred creature. They planned to stock  up  further when
they  found  a  farm  with  a  large  enough  flock  of  sheep.  Though  they  had  flour,  grain  and
barley,  wheat  and  corn,  dried  beef,  salted  pork,  dried  fruit,  and  vegetables  in  their  carts,
enough to  last  the entire journey,  it was better to  feed  your soldiers  fresh  meat whenever
possible.
Kailus  spoke  in  his  rumbling  bear- like  tones,  making  short  but  suitable  replies  to
Torin‘s recount of the  histories of  invasion. Torin  had always  liked the  man;  they shared a
friendship as close as if they were brothers even though they were of different clans. Kailus‘s
knowledge of those histories was equally as rich as his own, and the man shared insights to
battle  strategies  that  had  or  that  may  have  saved  the  Free  Lands  from  defeat,  as  well  as
knowledge of how the invaders had claimed their own territories in certain battles.
The two kings joined in the conversation from time to time though mostly they were
engrossed in their own discussions that Torin locked   out of his range of hearing. He wanted
to know what they  were discussing though  it was considered  very  rude  for an  immortal to
eavesdrop on the conversation of a ruler.
An  hour  or  so  later,  Arig  Reidenhold,  or  Flamebow  as  was  his  name  amongst  the
Heroes o f Will, moved his brown colt up beside Kailus‘s horse. Arig had been amongst the
Guardians  firing their  flaming arrows  from behind  the protection of  thousands of soldiers,
Guardians, and wielders.  The  man  fascinated Torin,  and Kailus also seemed  to  regard  the
former ghost with a reserved expression of awe.
He removed his rune- covered battle mask and hung it over the pommel of his saddle.
His enchanted red bow glowed crimson sticking up partway out of the jade- and- silver worked
bow case. Arig was not considered strong as a wielder, though his bow was more powerful
than any other that existed these days. Arig rode alongside them in silence for a time until he
joined in their discussion of histories.
He had fought the invaders in past lives over a dozen times, and his knowledge was
infinitely  more  accurate  and  satisfying  to  hear  it  explained.  Arig  and  Kailus  became
engrossed in conversation about battle tactics and laws of war as Torin began to find he was
outmatched  by  their  knowledge.  His  own  knowledge  of  ba ttle  was  centred  on  using  the
Power as a weapon to strike, pummel, and crush your enemies into submission or defeat.
He was over three hundred years old, which was not exactly old for an immortal, even
these days, as some mortal wielders still lived to th is day who were twice his age. During his
lifetime, he had often studied war tactics that relied on steel, muscle and cunning rather than
always relying on the Power, though he learnt how limited those studies had been when he
heard Arig and the Blademaste r talking.
As he let their voices fade from his focus and his thoughts became more inward, he
began  to  brood  in  silence.  He  wondered  if  it  was  time  he  too  began  receiving  his  daily
Healing from one of the Ael Tarael. It was a common practice amongst hundreds of Alit‘aren
from Nordhel and Tarvel and had been  for  months  now.  Torin  had already begun to  notice
changes in himself since the taint was brought to Kismeria by the Sons of Odin.
He was restless at night, finding it difficult to relax enough to sleep.  This brought on
more  symptoms  of  sleep  deprivation,  fatigue,  anxious  moods,  and  so  on.  He  became  less
trusting  of  his  closest  friends  and  advisors,  often  suspecting  thoughts  of  betrayal  hidden
behind their eyes.
That was most common amongst his fellow Alit‘aren as they were the most likely to
betray him if they turned into evil madmen. Evil or mad was bad enough, but an evil madman
seemed  even  worse  than  the  Accursed  in  some  ways.  The  Shadow  Men  could  never  be
forgiven, which was a certain fact; they were   evil to the core, but at least they were not mad
too!
The  damage  a  madman  could  do  with  the  Power  as  a  result  of  his  loss  of
comprehension of his environment was serious enough without the thought of those madmen
becoming evil and plotting against the innocent. He had not started hearing voices in his mind
yet,  though  that  was  considered  a  major  sign  that  Healing  was  necessary.  He  decided  he
would seek out an Ael Tarael this evening to see if she would be his appointed Healer.
***
Adem rode in silence for most of the morning as did Carl and Wil who rode to either side of
his dark stallion on  their brown colts. He  assumed Carl‘s  thoughts were consumed by  the
innocent women who would become vampires in three days‘ time. What would be their fate?
Most  likely  they would be  hunted and killed  in  a short amount of time,  though those  who
were able to find blood and remain hidden by day and fly by night could make it anywhere
across the Free Lands, spreading the vampire disease to create an army of Nightwalkers. 
He tried not to think on it. He had done what Carl had ordered, or requested, to ensure
his guilt wasn‘t another burden to carry on his soul. They rode towards the head of the army
with  thousands  of  lancers  and  other  soldiers  leading  the  march  to  form  a  gua rd  for  the
Saviours and rulers. Guardians were amongst those front masses, along with some wielders to
provide attacks with the Power if necessary.
Adem rode behind the immortal kings and Torin, Kailus, and Arig, with Jean, Terese,
and the  two  immortal qu eens riding on  their right  flank. Kelderath, Maldros, and Morthros
rode in front of the kings as the bulk of the front lines of soldiers belonged to their armies.
They would command the charge of  lancers and see to the defences  if another attack came
about.
After three  hours of  riding  Adem asked Carl,  ―Have  you  given any  thoughts  to  my
theory?‖ Carl  looked at  him  with wide eyes,  filled with pain and regret.  He  had obviously
been thinking of the infected women. There had been some  sei’vani  amongst those vict ims,
though only a handful as it was not forbidden for immortal servants to defend themselves if
they were attacked.
The  rest  were  mostly  mortal  servants  of  Nordhel  or  the  mortal  armies  who  had
journeyed  to  Nordhel.  They  would  become  dangerous  creatures,  though  the  immortal
vampire could become even more powerful.
Vampires survived as long as they could find fresh blood, including mortals who now
had the  gift of  immortality despite their curse. If a  vampire went  for  weeks without blood,
they would become  more  monstrous  in appearance, dark around the eyes or eyes black as
seeds, their  fangs becoming elongated to the point that they  looked  like some king of wild
animal, and their skin becoming dry and flaky.
Feeding could replenish their disguise, even making their eyes appear human, which
made it easier for them to hide their danger to unsuspecting victims. The bite marks vanished
after their first feed; vampire healing was reliant on blood.
Human blood gave them greater powers, including the ability to fly, hide in darkness
as if becoming a part of the shadows, increased strength, endurance, magic, and so on.
All this knowledge was passed to Adem by Arawn through the  kigare. The  ki’mera
Arawn had absorbed through Adem‘s sword was revitalising his Battle A ngel, though he was
still  in  need of a  few days rest to return to  his usual strength.  That  meant  it was vital  they
avoid another battle of  that scale and doubly  important that they avoid wasting their Battle
Angel‘s ki’mera  fighting human armies.
He consi dered this a positive to some degree as  it would  make  it easier to convince
the two kings that it was unwise to use the Battle Angels against the farmer armies. He didn‘t
want more human blood, smearing his reputation.
Finally Carl said, ―I have thought about it a little. I have a few theories to test when I
think it is safe to try. My thoughts are we may need to try to open one wormhole and join it to
another a long distance away which is also enlarged when they make contact.
―With the Power, I can sense  wormholes, even one‘s a long distance away. I can feel
them, feel their energy. I learnt to do this with the hope of returning home, but I promise I
won‘t  make  that  attempt  until  we‘ve  completed  our  mission.  I‘m  not  able  to  sense  them
beyond  this  world  anyway,  so  I  don‘t  know  if  I  will  ever  be  able  to  get  us  home.‖  His
shoulders sagged at the last and his face looked bleak.  
Adem replied, ―We will find our way home when the time is right, Carl. I believe God
brought us here, and I believe he will find us a  way to return home when he knows we have
done our duty.
―I  understand  your  concerns.  I‘m  also  concerned  that  my  parents  may  have  been
searching for me all this time, and they may be frantic with worry. But there is nothing we
can do about that now. We are  here now, and we must do what must be done.‖
He saw Terese speaking to Jean after that and then saw Jean give him an approving
nod. So the  immortal  woman  was eavesdropping and telling Jean  what  they discussed.  He
would have to choose his words carefully.
―I‘m  proud  of  you  too,  Carl,‖  Adem  said  after  a  pause,  ―and  you  too,  Wil.  You
showed real courage and determination last night, and an insight into battle strategies that I
do not  remember being explained by any of our  instructors.‖ That  last  was phrased  with a
hint of questioning, in an attempt to probe from them the source of their knowledge. ―I was a
bit concerned there for a while,‖ he continued, ―as you were both gone for so long. I began to
wonder . . .‖
Both  his  friends  scoffed  at  that,  and  Wil  cut  him  off  saying,  ―We  would  never
abandon you, Adem. We are all in this thing together. I will not give away any of my secrets.
It is forbidden, but I will use everything I have learnt to see that we all get out of this alive.‖
Carl gave an approving nod to  that, though his face was still grim. Adem understood that the
words ‗it  is  forbidden‘  meant that they  had obtained their knowledge  from the Chameleon
Arch.  Adem  had  learnt  much  through  those  lifetimes  he  had  lived  through  their  shared
experiences. He saw  thousands of versions of his life and his fate, where he died a brutal and
bloody death or became mad or evil and murdered hundreds of thousands of people with the
Power.  He  always  had  a  failure  until  the  last  where  he  was  able  to  wound  the  Dark  One
enough  to escape  his endless pursuit  flying  upwards through that tunnel of darkness. Only
then did he have the hope of victory in his heart.
He also wondered if what Carl had said was true, that Adem must be the Blue Water
Dragon  as  Carl  had  seen  him  flying  through  the  sky  with  wings  of  blue  flame.  Arawn
explained that the Prophecies stated only the Blue Water Dragon would  learn the ability of
flight, out of the three Sons of Odin.
So if that were true, it meant he must be the leader of their mission and the cr ux of
victory at the Great Battle. Though, Arawn said things were possible in the Arch that weren‘t
possible in reality. He may have used the powers of the Arch to create wings and fly through
those realms, though proof of his title would be earned when he  could perform the same spell
in reality.
This  made  him wonder  if  he really  was the Dragon. Perhaps  it was Carl or Wil. In
truth, he wanted to be the leader; he felt he had the understanding of this world to lead them
to victory.  Though,  it  was an enormou s amount of responsibility,  more than  he would ever
have imagined himself accepting before he met Anna Goldstein and Jean Fairsythe.
An hour later, they began to push through orchards of oranges, apples, and peaches, a
large farm that stretched for miles w ith three large farmhouses clustered together on a green
field. Each house was three stories of blue stone with dark slate roofs and oak balconies and
verandas. On the other side of the farmhouses were stonewalled fences that held thousands of
sheep and goats, a herd of cows, and three large chicken coops fenced off with meshed wire.  
They halted for an hour or so to pay the farmers for supplies, fruit, animal stock, and
barrels of their apple cider for the nobles to savour. The bulk of the army would survi ve on
water for the next few months.
The  farmers  were  mortals,  all the same extended  family, some  forty- three of them,
including the women and children. Carl insisted they be warned about the threat of another
demon  invasion.  He  suggested  they  buy  their  e ntire  stock  when  the  farmers  insisted  they
could not leave their farms behind.
Eventually,  the  three  head  male  famers  agreed  –  thick  muscled,  dark- bearded  men
with dark eyes and hard faces  –  they had the look of veterans who possibly understood the
danger  better than the younger males. A lot of gold was passed over before the men decided
they had been suitably reimbursed for their losses, the animals were slaughtered and loaded
on carts except for the chickens and ducks that were stored live in large woode n crates. They
would  not  have to use their supplies for some time except  for the  flour and  grains to  make
bread.
A small force of soldiers were left behind to lead the farmers back to Nordhel, only a
handful  could be spared though the  farmers felt safer to  have some protection. If they rode
with speed, they may reach Nordhel by nightfall though the farmers‘ mortal horses would be
near exhaustion.
The  male  farmers  rode  with swords at  their waists,  spears, or rusty  lances  in their
hands and bows hanging fro m the saddles in leather cases. Carl then ordered them to send a
larger escort of soldiers, including some Guardians, to scout the farms surrounding Nordhel
to bring as many families behind stone walls as possible.
Even  if  there  wasn‘t another demon attack,  those soon  to be  vampires  would  hunt
these grounds and turn as  many  victims as they could  find.  The result would be a need  for
soldiers to be sent to the  farms  further  from Nordhel, to escort the supply carts to the city.
Already these released vampire  victims posed a threat to Nordhel‘s continuing food sources.
The soldiers leading the farmers to the city were given orders to send more scouts and
hosts of soldiers to bring in all the families surrounding Nordhel. They would try to cut off
the blood supply for the newly turned vampires, perhaps starving them to the point of death.
Though they would surely  find animals to  feed on,  wild one‘s  if  not  livestock, which still
posed the problem of how to stop the spread of the disease.
These  thoughts  added to  Adem‘s symptoms, that were  more difficult to control  the
longer he went without his  medication, and the  more he wielded the Power. He realised  he
was  wearing  a  deep  scowl  and  felt  that  his  face  may  be  flushed  with  anger.  He  tried  to
smooth his features wit h some degree of effort.
He looked forward to his evening Healing. His morning‘s Healing was overlooked as
a result of the attack last night. He felt better to receive it each morning as well as at night. He
considered asking one of the Ael  Tarael  to soot he  his symptoms  while the stock was still
being loaded on to carts but decided it would only slow things up.
It was nearing midday by the position of the sun, a golden ball of fire moving towards
the centre of the sky. There was still enough hours in the  day for the farmers to reach the city
though Adem warned them at the last minute that there may be some surviving vampires still
roaming these  lands. If they  halted  to water the  horses, they  may  not reach  the city  walls
before nightfall and then fall easy  prey to Nightwalkers. It was then decided that they would
make camp then and there; they had moved over five miles from the battlefield which wasn‘t
far enough, but Carl enforced his wishes to protect these people.
So they would make camp and the family of  farmers would be led to Nordhel an hour
after  first  light.  That  would  give  them  time  to  arrive  safely,  though  the  other  scouts  left
immediately  on  immortal  horses,  including  four  Guardians  who  were  sent  to  Nordhel  to
explain the new orders.
Pushed hard the  altherin  horses could reach Nordhel and the nearby farms in an hour
or less. Some farms may be only a quarter hour ride away. So they were doing their best to
protect the innocent and stem the spread of the disease. Carl looked satisfied though he didn‘ t
smile.
Adem wondered if his brooding was a sign of his friend‘s symptoms returning or that
he  was  just  concerned  over  the  problems  they  faced.  Wil  appeared  less  stressed  as  they
moved their horses to the picket lines where mortal men in Wolf Rohjor livery moved to take
the reins as they dismounted.
As they were waiting for their tent to be constructed, Adem recalled the large wooden
cross Carl  had  had erected over  the  mass  grave of the slain  soldiers. It was originally two
plain  planks  of  wood,  though  w hile  Carl  prayed,  Adem  saw  light  of  changing  colours
spreading  along  the  timber,  carving  smaller  crosses,  and  shaping  the  wood  to  look
ornamental.
The wood became dark as if stained and the colours remained when Carl finished his
prayer. From what Adem co uld make out, Carl had also created weaves to protect the grave
from scavengers. It was another ability Adem had never been taught.
The weaves were much more complex than anything Carl had been capable of before
being  Reborn.  It  seemed  Carl  was  more  adept  at  wielding  than  him.  What  else  have  they
learnt?  He had wondered as he stared at that cross of light, the first symbol of Jesus to stand
permanently in Kismeria. It was the first Christian graveyard.
He  wanted  to  question  Carl  about  those  weaves,  though  he  assumed  it  was  also
forbidden.  To  his surprise, Carl  wandered off with a  host of Guardians and  soldiers, some
bearing axes, to return later bearing another cross, even larger than the first, that stood over
fifteen feet high and was ten feet wide on the cross bar.
Ael Tarael  used the Power to dig the  hole and plant the  massive structure, and Carl
began to pray and create new weaves as the familiar light and symbols were engraved in the
wood.  Again  the  freshly  cut  timber  became  rectangular  planes  of  dark- stained  wood,  a
preserving element of some kind.
He noticed Carl tie off the weaves this time that allowed the coloured light to continue
to shine on the engraved symbols. Adem and Wil made their way to the cross that stood at the
centre of the clearing   between the three farmhouses. Adem looked at the carvings to see that
they were human friezes explaining the tale of Christ‘s Crucifixion. Each frieze glowed in a
different colour from the one next to it, golden, aqua, crimson, emerald, or mauve; then the
colours alternated. It was a marvellous creation!
―What about  the taint?‖ Adem asked after  staring  for some  time.  ―Won‘t  it corrupt
this creation until it becomes something dangerous, something evil?‖
Carl shook his head as he stared at the friezes, saying, ―I think I have worked out a
way to filter the taint out of what I create with the Power. I still sense the taint as it is a part of
what  I  am  weaving,  though  the  final  creation  seems  to  be  cleansed.‖  That  made  Adem‘s
eyebrows rise. His friend must be  highly skilled with magic to understand such weaves.
―But  what  is  it?‖ Adem asked,  ―Besides a cross I  mean? Does  it do anything other
than glow and tell a story?‖
―I am  not certain of what  it will do,‖ Carl replied,  ―other than teach the  message of
Christ. Though there is a Power that radiates from it now, sending out . . . something . . . the
Power . . . perhaps the Power of Christ. I have not felt his Power strongly in this world.
―It is as if he is not a part of it. But he must be! He is the Son of God , the same God
that  made Kismeria.  Anyway, the  main purpose of  it  is to begin  to spread  the word of  the
Gospel.
―I will construct more wherever we go, until all of Kismeria knows of His Sacrifice. If
they can learn about the man, they will learn to follow  his teachings.‖
―You  should  have  scholars  write  down  the  stories  of  the  Bible!‖  Wil  said
enthusiastically. ―The parts you can remember, that way the Bible can become the Word of
God in this world too!‖
Adem thought that was a fine idea, and he did not do ubt Carl had memorised every
passage of the Bible to some extent through his constant readings. Carl agreed and hurried off
to locate scribes and writing materials, shadowed by Guardians and Ael Tarael.
Hopefully that would keep his friend distracted enough to avoid falling prey to dark
thoughts.  There  were a  number of scribes and scholars within  the camp who  were brought
along to record the events that took place during their journey. Scholars and scribes had been
recording  events  at  Nordhel  since  the  arr ival  of  Adem  and  his  friends.  They  called  these
recordings the Rohjor Chronicles.
***
Wil  left  Adem  standing  and  staring  at  the  Holy  Cross  Carl  had  created.  He  didn‘t  want
anyone to know it, but he had noticed one of the young farmer girls staring at him   with her
large dark eyes. She  had raven black  hair and  fair skin,  slender with  nice curves, and she
wore a white shirt with lace at the neck and wrists and a dark skirt that fell to her dark booted
ankles. Her hair was in two thick braids which suggested  she was not old enough to marry,
though she looked at least nineteen which meant she was.
He  found  she  was  actually  only  eighteen  and  a  half  when  he  managed  to  make
conversation with the young woman. Hayley Mijimha was her name. The three families fell
un der the  names Mijimha,  Alsop, Danley and Melodi.  Her  father  was  head of  her  family.
Brose Hone Mijimha was his name.
Her sisters and cousins stood nearby whispering and giggling as Wil tried to find out
more about the girl. They were all dark haired with  large dark eyes, as well as her brothers
and male cousins who also stood nearby wearing dark expressions whenever they glanced his
way.  
One of the Chosen he may be, but that didn‘t mean he had a right to speak to Hayley,
in their obvious opinion. He tried   to think of a way to calm their mood, and then he had the
notion to use a bird call to summon a small flock of tiny little birds from the nearby trees.
At  first they all stared at  him  with shocked expressions when  he began to  make the
bird sounds, until  seven of the little birds swooped down to land, chirping in a circle around
Hayley‘s feet. They were cute enough to settle their nerves he wagered.
It was forbidden to tell of those memories from past lives of the Dremelden, though as
he understood it, it  was not forbidden to reveal secrets learnt through that experience.
Two more of the coloured birds landed on either of his shoulders when Hayley asked,
―Where  did  you  learn  that?  Have  you  been  receiving  lessons  from  the  Dremelden?‖  Wil
didn‘t give her an   answer, other than to make another bird sound which sent the birds flying
back into the skies.
―Can we talk  somewhere private?‖  he asked  her. It  was a  very  forward question to
ask, though he wanted to get some alone time with this pretty girl if it was po ssible.
―My sisters will have to join me,‖ she said shyly but with a smile. ―This is Cara and
Emma.‖ The two girls were almost twins though one was only about fifteen while the other
was about a  year  younger than  Hayley.  ―I  will show  you our  home,‖  Hayley  said.  ―It  is a
humble dwelling, but it is a comfortable living space.‖
He wondered if he could get her alone if he used the excuse of seeing her bedroom. It
wasn‘t just  that  he  had been a  long time without a woman;  the girl  reminded him of a  girl
back home.
He  found that a strange coincidence seeing as  the girl  had  made eyes at  him, so  he
wanted  to  investigate.  Her  brothers  Thad  and  Gilm  followed  them,  much  to  his
disappointment. The two boys who  were both  in their early twenties eyed him suspiciously
but  with small  grins as they took over the tour of the  house.  ―Upstairs  is  where we sleep,‖
Thad explained, with an ever wider grin as he said, ―though there is nothing there you haven‘t
seen countless times before, I‘m sure.‖
Drats!   Wil  thought  to  himself.  He  heard  the  deep  echoing  rumble  of  Dis  Pater
chuckling  inside  his  mind.  He  resisted  the  urge  to  blush  with  some  difficulty.  It  wasn‘t
always a good thing to share the kigare  with your Battle Angel.
The kitchen was large enough for the family of twelve plus  the parents and an uncle
who lived with them, polished oak benches forming an arc with slate tiled floors. The walls
were whitewashed with timber beams crossed at angles with a roof that rose over fifteen feet
on the lowest floor. A large fireplace stood  on the west wall with a very long dining table of
polished  oak  and  twenty  chairs.  He  assumed  they  sometimes  catered  to  visitors  or  other
family members.
―Perhaps  we  could  take  a  stroll  through  the  orchards?‖  Wil  asked  Hayley  in
chivalrous tones.
―We will e scort you,‖ Thad said sternly.
―My sisters  will  join  me, thank  you,  Thad,‖ Hayley  replied  with a touch of  scorn.
―There are still plenty of soldiers harvesting the trees, so we will be quite safe.‖
She then stepped to Wil to link arms with him, and they s trolled out the door with her
sisters following and giggling behind their hands. Thad and Gilm followed them anyways, at
a distance to try to avoid notice.  
Hayley made a soft hissing noise when she noticed them trailing behind them but did
not try to stop  them with further words. ―My brothers are very protective, Wil Martyr,‖ she
said as they walked under the apple branches.
Wil replied with, ―I understand, Hayley. I would be too if I had a sister as gorgeous as
you are.‖ That was heavy flirtation, though  the girl simply smiled and took him by the hand
to pull him behind a tree trunk. Then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard
and with passion.
His eyes were wide in shock for a moment until he closed them and started to kiss her
back. Tha t lasted more than a minute, and when they pulled away, they stared at each other
for moments longer. When they stepped back out into view, he saw Thad and Gilm rushing
towards them with their bows slung over their shoulders in cases, right hands resting o n the
bronzed hilts of their long blades.
Hayley shouted to  them  that,  ―We are  fine and do  not  need rescuing!  Go back and
help Papa, both of you!‖ The boys eventually kicked at the soil with their leather boots before
turning and  marching away,  looking ba ck over their shoulders with scowls  every so often.
Her sisters  hung back  while  Hayley pulled  him back behind  the same tree and kissed  him
again! He was going to have to carve their initials on that tree, in glowing colours like Carl‘s
Holy Crosses.
Chapter
15
In the Word
Carl had the scribes and scholars brought to  his tent, along with a  large oak desk retrieved
from one of the carts, piles of  fresh brown parchment cut  into neat rectangles the size of a
large print book, ink wells, quills, and plenty of  vials of dark ink. He sat behind the desk in a
high - backed cushioned throne carved with vines and  grapes,  while the scribes and scholars
worked at small wooden desks piled with paper.
There  were  four  scribes and  two scholars taking down six  identical  versions of  the
Bible. Carl began with Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John as he wanted the stories of Christ to
be foremost  in  their teachings. He  was  loath about  lecturing  them on  Genesis as  he  feared
those  passages  would  conflict  with  the  histories  of  Kismeria  in  too  many  ways  to  even
consider.
He would complete those four books first, then perhaps move on to Revelations, as it
revolved around issues related to his imaginings of what the Great Battle might look like. As
he  recited  each  passage,  the  scribes  and  sc holars  scribbled  down  the  words  furiously.  He
instructed them to write as legibly as possible however, so that more copies could be made by
others.
They sat  for  hours as  he worked  his  way through  what  he could remember of each
book and verse. He tried to  keep  it as accurate as possible, and  he had a good  memory  for
Bible passages. Servants brought him a tray of fresh bread, roast lamb, fresh apples, and goat
cheese at around four in the evening though he didn‘t touch it till after six.
He had already demo nstrated the format for the writings, making it as exact a copy as
he could without having the book in his clutches for an example. Two of the scholars were
immortal, Danil Mardel and Aldin Foebius. Those two stood the entire time, listening but not
writing; the rest were mortals though they were all from Nordhel.
The two immortals continued to interrupt him with questions, which was infuriating
after a  time. Though, after an Ael Tarael  came  to see to  his Healing,  he  was  relieved of a
growing  unease at  their constant  nit- picking.  They always  wanted  to know  more about the
events, particularly about the people who had witnessed the miracles of Christ. They required
hard evidence. That was their game.
Carl kept telling them, ―The witnesses are the evidence. They are the proof!‖ But the
scholars always  wanted to know  who  had  recorded the  testimonies of  these  witnesses and
when.  Carl‘s  limited  understanding  of  that  issue  was  that  there  may  have  been  several
hundred years between the telling of Bible stories and t he beginning of scribes and religious
scholars recording those events. ―It is a testimony of faith!‖ he shouted at them. ―Of stories
passed  down  through  the  generations  from  the  times  of  the  real  eyewitnesses.  Christ‘s
teachings  were  that  it  is  more  important  to  have  faith  in  him  than  to  have  proof  of  the
everlasting God.
―Even God wants faith more than he wants proof. You people live in a reality where
spirituality  is common place.  You already  have  your  evidence,  your proof, as  it  were. On
Earth we only have the stories of the Bible from a time when writing something down after
witnessing it was the only form of evidence.‖
―What  about  Adem  Highlander‘s  polygraphs?‖  Danil  asked  after  a  pause,  the  last
word spoken slowly and rolled around on his tongue. He was typically tall for an immortal,
rake thin with a thick grey moustache, and large dark eyes under bushy brows.
Aldin  was almost  identical except  his dark  hair had  no grey. Both  had short, spiked
haircuts,  and  they  wore  the  Lion  Rohjor  sigils  on  their  da rk  coats  with  red- and- gold
embroidery.  Carl  gave  a  deep  sigh  after  swallowing  a  large  chunk  of  cheese.  He  nearly
choked  on  the  mouthful  when  the  man  questioned  him  about  Adem  Highlander‘s  bloody
polygraphs!
He took a swig of the sweet apple cider from a glazed clay mug before saying, ―There
were no bloody polygraphs back then! People . . . just . . . had . . . faith.‖ The last was spoken
through clenched teeth of frustration.
―So  let  me  see  if  I  understand  this correctly,‖  Aldin said  in  lecturing tones.  ―Y our
teachings come from a time when there were no polygraphs, no recording devices like your
mobile phones . . .‖ Carl had instructed them on the correct name, ―. . . and you expect us to
believe  these  writings  from  your  ancient  histories,  which  are  based  on  the  tales  of
descendants of the real eyewitnesses?‖
―That is what I am telling you,‖ Carl said with a touch of animosity. ―You must have
similar methods for recording your histories. You have no recording devices other than paper
and ink.‖
―Yes, but we  have the testimonies of the Great  Angels,‖  Aldin  interjected,  ―and the
testimonies of the immortals who are the eyewitnesses to events that may have happened as
long  ago as  your Christ, or even  longer,  much  longer. What of these angels who spoke to
Christ‘s mother after his Resurrection? Were they Great Angels too?‖
―Yes, they  were!‖ Carl  lied emphatically. He didn‘t know what kind of angels they
were though he knew they were important enough for him to make the claim that they were
Great Angels.
That issue had also always puzzled him since he first arrived in Kismeria and learnt of
the taint and the Great Angels fleeing Earth. Surely the angels in Heaven were not affected by
the taint. So why were the Great Angels, who were worshipped as Celtic Gods, so susceptible
to infection? And if the High Realm and Heaven were joined between the two worlds, what
was there to stop the taint spreading to Heaven also?
His thoughts were interrupted again when Aldin remarked, ―It still all seems terribly
inconclusive.‖ Th at got Carl hot under the collar, and he almost exploded in his retort saying,
―Inconclusive  is  what  they  call  Adem  Highlander‘s  bloody  polygraph  report!  This  is  the
Word of God!‖
***
Adem was heading towards his tent when he heard Carl shouting from ins ide about God and
polygraphs.  He  sounded  like  he  was  in  a  foul  mood,  so  Adem  turned  tail  and  marched
towards the campfires where the entire farmer family were gathered, and Guardians flowing
behind him like hawks in search of prey.
Jean  was  there,  talking  to some of  the  farmers‘ daughters.  Terese was close by  her
side, watching her like an eagle. Jean wore golden armour over her yellow coat and skirt and
Terese  wore  dark  green  slashed  with  emerald  across  the  coat  and  skirt  with  blue  silk
stockings and lime  green leather boots. Over a dozen, Guardians surrounded the two women
also,  many  wore  boots  of  bright  reds,  greens,  blues,  or  yellows  to  match  their  coats  and
armour though others wore plain brown leather.
Some  Guardians even  wore  grey or brown  woollen coats under silvered or bronzed
armour, or leather jerkins sewn with steel discs, less distinctive than was common for most of
their kind, though every one of them radiated alertness and prowess. Most wore the colours
of  the  Rohjors,  dark  coats  and  armour,  or  red  or  blue  or  white,  though  Guardians  could
choose the colours of the House they served, a banner they marched under, or even a personal
preference; they were as bright as a flock of rainbow parakeets, though all were more deadly
than a venomous serpent.  
Guardians were not servants to anyone in particular either; they did not serve the Ael
Tarael or Alit‘aren or even the kings and queens. Guardians were appointed duties and served
different factions depending on that duty.
Adem  could  imagine  their  duty  would  become  protecting  the  Ael  Tarael  from
madmen Alit‘aren in the future. He could see a future where Guardians were bodyguards for
all female wielders, in their pursuit of men who can wield. They would have to give up their
Lukrorian Bows if that plan  was to succeed, or else they too would slowly turn mad or evil
from the taint.
He had discussed this plan with Tobin and Orion in their tent the night before. Both
kings  had  agreed  this  was  a  likely  plan  for  the  future.  Any  male  wielder  who  wished  to
rem ain sane  would  have  to  give  up  holding  the Power,  no  longer  using  it to  Heal or as a
weapon. This was their only choice to survive at a time when male wielders were crucial to
the survival of all of Kismeria. They were being pushed to use the Power though  they knew it
would destroy them all.
The  same Torvellen  woman and  musicians were  seated close  to one of  the  central
fires and on logs and stumps. The Torvellen woman wore a deep blue silk gown sewn with
pearls  around  the  low- cut  neckline  and  silver  embroidery  across  the  breasts  and  sleeves.
Arawn confirmed the song was The March for Sinder Falls. It was a song about some ancient
battle, where the march was a final mission from which most would not return.
They were an army of some twenty thousand, facing demon hordes that outnumbered
them ten to one. Adem felt it was a fitting tune considering the loss of so many lives the night
before. Tilden  Acronis  –  a dark- eyed Guardian  with  long black  hair tied at the  nape of the
neck  –  stood beside Adem  in  his shadow  cloak and  gleaming emerald armour over a black
coat.  The  man  had  been  appointed  Guardian  to  Adem  many  times  since  their  arrival  in
Kismeria.
Tilden was also there at his side during the battle last night. Mason Fordrel stood to
his left  –  a taller blue- ey ed Guardian with short, spiked black hair  –   in blue armour under a
dark blue coat, dark  trousers, and  blue  leather boots.  Both  wore their bows  slanted across
their backs, as did all eleven of the Guardians who had shadowed him most of the day.
Though all  seemed to favour their swords as their hands hovered above their golden
hilts as  if  ready to draw steel  in a  heartbeat. Finally,  Tilden  leaned  towards Adem‘s ear to
whisper, ―It may not be my place to say this, Adem Highlander. But I do not think it wise to
stand idly when the risk of another attack draws near.‖
It  was  true,  the  sky  was  beginning  to  darken,  and  with  nightfall  came  the  risk  of
another demon horde crossing the distance between the Travelling Gate and their campsite.
Adem was still weary from  lack of sleep and the use of the Power the night before. He felt as
if  he could  sleep  for a week  if  he  was allowed, and  he would be of  little  use  if  they were
attacked tonight.
―I  understand  your  concern,  Tilden,‖  he  said  quietly.  ―But  the  defences  are  mo re
secure tonight. There are more wielders on the outer edges of the camp with enough soldiers
and Guardians to hold off another attack, at least for the short term. I am weary and shaken
from last night‘s ordeal, and the music is soothing. It helps my rec uperation.‖
That was the plain truth, though what he did not admit was that he also wanted to be
close to Jean. Terese looked his way from time to time with a scowl that almost sent shivers
down his spine. How far would that woman go to keep them apart? Jean spoke in whispers to
the girls close to her own age, all dark of hair and eyes, slender and pale skinned; all of them
quite pretty too. He wanted to go over and speak with her, but he didn‘t want to interrupt her
conversation; he also feared the wrath of Terese.
The young  men were seated on blankets  further  from the  fire, with the  mothers and
fathers and grandparents seated further back, some on wooden rocking chairs that must have
been carried from the farmhouses. The three bearded men who were the hea ds of the families
sat smoking pipes with pints of cider, sitting on stumps beside their chairs.
They were hard- eyed men; each had the look of a veteran who knew how to handle
the bronze hilted swords that rested against the arms of their chairs. When he  looked into the
innocent faces of the very young, some children only four or five years old, he hoped they all
made it safely to Nordhel.
The next tune was the Fiddler and the Donkey. Arawn explained it was a light- hearted
tune more suited to the inns and  taverns of the lower classes. Adem assumed it was chosen to
entertain the  young ones. A smile crept on to the  faces of the three bearded  men, and they
began to slap their knees in time to the tune. Some of the children began to dance and play
which also brought smiles to many other faces, including Jean and Terese.
As  darkness  fell  upon  them,  the  mood  became  almost  grim  however.  The  music
continued  though  the  farmer  families  appeared  tense  over  the  prospect  of  another  attack.
Tilden  looked  to  the  east,  perhaps  sensing  for  any  demons  in  the  distance,  as  did  all  the
Guardians  while  also  trying  to  look  in  every  direction  at  once.  During  that  time,  a  larger
crowd of Guardians and wielders gathered by the fires to listen to the tunes.
As  Adem‘s  thoughts began  to  drift,  he  started  wondering  what  memories Jean  had
obtained through her experience in the Chameleon Arch. The memories he had of lives where
he had made love to her, been married to her, had children with her, were not exactly shared
experiences.
She woul d have no memory of those experiences that he witnessed, nor did he know
of  any  of  the  memories  she  had  obtained  with  him.  A  part  of  them  was  shared  in  the
experience though  it was not the same as the shared experiences  he  had  had with Carl and
Wil,  which  they  could  all  remember  what  they  saw  and  heard  and  learnt.  Sometimes  she
looked at him with such love; he knew she must have had some of the same experiences that
he had.
Other  times, she  looked at  him as  if  he  were a rabid wolf,  needing to be put down
before  he  went  wild  and  murdered  innocent  people.  His  sense  of  her  through  the  kigare
confirmed it was not just a look. Sometimes she truly hated him as if he were the most vile
and repulsive being on the face of the planet.
What had she seen? How could he convince her that they were just possible visions of
the  future?  How  could  he  win  back  her  trust?  Her  mood  during  the  battle  last  night  had
mostly been a sense of pride however. He sensed her pride in his abilities to fight the demons.
Hope  too,  she  seemed  to  radiate  the  same  sense  of  hope  that  he  had  felt  ever  since  he
achieved victory in the Arch.
Each time she looked his way tonight, he sensed her love for him, tinged with distrust
and fear. He imagined it was fear of what he was to become. If only he  could find a way to
remove the taint from teron. That would assure them of victory.  
If he failed to do this, he knew Kismeria would suffer the Age of Chaos, where mad
Alit‘aren destroyed the world with the Power. He had seen glimpses of that future throug h the
Arch, and it was heartbreaking to think that it might come true. According to the Prophecies,
it  was destined to occur. He wondered  if Carl  could  figure out a  way  to cleanse the taint,
given his  new understanding of  weaves  that could create something  like the  Holy Crosses,
which were removed from the taint in their completion.
He discussed this with Carl when he returned to his tent. His friend was also weary
from last night‘s battle and his afternoon of dictating the stories of the Bible. He still se emed
to be in a  foul  mood when  he sent  the scribes and scholars away, though  Adem  guessed  it
was from his attempts to teach rather than his symptoms that should have been eased since
his  Healing.  An  Ael  Tarael  arrived  to  Heal  Adem  at  around  half  past  seven,  a  different
woman again this time, with dark hair and dark blue eyes. The other Nordic Ael Tarael asked
after Wil, but neither of them knew where he was.
―I suspect he is rolling in the hay with one of the farmer‘s daughters,‖ said the fair haired woman  with a sniff before she stalked out of the tent. The thought hadn‘t occurred to
Adem that that might be what his friend was doing until the woman suggested it.
Though once it was mentioned, his faint sense of Wil‘s emotions through the  kigare
suggested  th at  that  was  exactly  what  he  was  up  to!  Arawn  offered  no  insights  from  his
connection  with Wil‘s Battle Angel  however.  Adem and Carl  shrugged their shoulders and
decided they had better go look for him.
One of the Chosen he may be, but he might find this young woman‘s father would do
his best to drive a sword through Wil‘s heart if he found the pair locked in a fit of passion.
They were able to locate him quite easily using their sense of him through the  kigare.
Carl seemed more attuned to Wil through that  connection, while Adem seemed more closely
tied to Jean‘s emotions.
They were  nearing one of  the  farmhouses  when Wil stepped out of one of the side
doors with his arm around the  waist of a young  farmer  girl. They did not ask exactly what
had  occurred  betw een  them  though  the  girl  was  blushing  bright  red  when  she  saw  them
approaching. Adem assumed Wil had sensed him and Carl getting closer to their location and
would have realised they were searching for him.
―This is Hayley,‖ Wil said. ―She wants to join us.‖
―That sounds too dangerous for such a young woman,‖ Carl interjected.
―Besides, I doubt her parents would allow it. Think of the risks, Wil. She will be safer
at Nordhel.‖
―I am old enough to make my own decisions,‖ Hayley said defiantly. ―Though I kno w
nothing of battle or sword play, I am skilled with the bow. Archery practice is something we
are taught from a young age.
―A woman hiding in an attic window can be a formidable protection from bandits, and
wolves are also a problem in these parts. Besides, Wil and I are to be married!‖
Wil suddenly  looked  shocked to  his core as  he  looked at  her and said,  ―But  I only
kissed you!‖
Hayley stared  with serious eyes as she  said,  ―It  is the only decent thing to do, Wil
Martyr. My parents would not approve unless we are wedded this very evening.‖
―I will perform the ceremony,‖ Carl said with a sly grin. 
―But you‘re not even a priest!‖ Wil spluttered.
―My father is a Pastor,‖ Carl replied. ―I know the formalities. Shall we do it right here
and now or do you want  more witnesses?‖
―My family would be very hurt if they were not included,‖ Hayley said with a smile,
and then she hurried off to alert them of the news. Wil stared after her as if he were about to
speak but said nothing.
Carl slapped Wil on the shoulder as he said, ―Congratulations, old friend! Welcome to
the club!‖ Adem assumed he meant the married club.
Adem  suddenly  remembered  Orion‘s  words  when  they  first  arrived.  What  would
happen  when  they  left  Kismeria,  only  to  return  over  a  thousand  years  later?  H ayley  was
mortal, what hope was there in this marriage?
He explained his concern to Carl and Wil, but Wil simply said, ―We will find a way
around it, Adem. Perhaps she can learn to wield. She could live much longer then.‖
―Yes, but most mortal wielders don‘t live past five or six hundred years,‖ Adem said.
―I‘m only worried for you, Wil. How will you take it if you return here a thousand years later
and Hayley is long gone? How will you cope?‖
Wil sighed deeply and scratched his head for a moment before he looked Adem in the
eyes  and  said,  ―I  love  her,  Adem.  I  want  to  marry  her.  Whatever  happens  is  fate,  I  can‘t
change that, but this is something I have to do.‖
―Yes,  God  will  find  a  way,‖  Carl  said  with  a  smile.  ―Now,  are  you  ready  to  get
married?‖  Wil  nodded,  and  they  made  their  way  back  to  the  campfires  where  the  farmer
families were gathered. There were dozens of Guardians surrounding the farmers, as well as
Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren in small clusters.
Hayley‘s father had apparently heard the news as he  was giving Wil a hard dark- eyed
stare, as  if  he wanted to crush his bones with  his bare  hands.  At Carl‘s command, they all
made their way to the Holy Cross that glowed incandescent in the darkness. A silvery glow
traced the figures of everyone who stood be fore the Cross.
Wil stood in the centre of the clearing, facing Carl, while the musicians played a local
wedding tune as Hayley was marched towards them with an arm linked to her father‘s. When
Hayley  stood  beside  Wil,  Carl  began  the  ceremony.  It  was  traditional  in  the  language,
traditional for a Christian wedding, which would seem only fitting in Carl‘s opinion.
He  did  add  in  a  few  words  and  phrases  that  he  must  have  learnt  from  Math
Mathonwy,  suited  to  a  traditional  Kismerian  wedding.  Finally,  Carl  asked,  ―Do  you,  Wil
Martyr, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?‖ To which Wil answered, ―I do.‖
―And do you, Hayley Mijimha, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?‖
To which Hayley replied, ―I do.‖
―Then I  now pronounce you,  husband and   wife,‖ Carl  said with a smile.  ―You  may
kiss the bride.‖  The  newly  married couple  locked eyes,  then  lips, and  held each other  in a
tight embrace as cheers erupted from the farmer families, clapping and shouting as the music
began to play.
The  farmers began to dance with their  wives, and the  young boys and girls clapped
and swayed to the music with bright smiles. Even the Ael Tarael chose Alit‘aren or Guardian
partners to join in the dancing until the dark field was a flowing tide of illuminated figures.
The  festivities  then  moved  back  to  the  campfires  where  more  Ael  Tarael,  Alit‘aren,  and
Guardians stood watching, some dancing or clapping and swaying to the tunes.
The  outer  defences  were  still  heavily  guarded  however.  They  were  not  taking  any
chances  this  time.  Dinner  turned  into  a  feast  of  roasted  meats,  breads,  cheeses,  fruit,  and
cider. The large dining tables were carried out of the farmhouses and covered in white cloths
in a U - shape around one of the fires with the married couple seated at its head.
Adem, Wil, and Jean also sat along the head table with Terese and the two kings and
queens to either  side. They  had also been present  for the  ceremony.  Adem  and Carl  gave
speeches, wishing every happiness to the married couple, both of them avoiding making  any
mention of other women in Wil‘s past.
The speeches were followed by more cheers and applause, more music and feasting.
The crowds that  had  gathered shared  in the  feast,  Ael  Tarael and Alit‘aren  seated on  large
blankets around the fires, but the Guardi ans remained standing while they sampled meats and
cheeses.
As the party was winding down, the crowd began to thin, and Wil and Hayley waved
goodbye to everyone before  making their way  to their private  tent.  The  fair - sized  tent  was
occupied by two mortal l adies before they were moved on to something smaller.
Adem watched as his friend walked away with an arm around the waist of this new
bride, and  then  he turned to  see Jean  standing behind  him. She  wore one of those curious
smiles of hers, large blue eyes shining. She was so beautiful.
He wanted to ask her if she would reconsider marriage, but his sense of her through
the kigare  was that she felt uneasy in his presence, so he said, ―You look lovely this evening,
Jean. I like what you‘ve done with your hair.‖ It was up in one of those intricate braids she
did  in the  feast style, copying the  immortal queens. She  had changed  into a pale blue silk
dress with silver embroidery across the breasts and dark blue slashes across the thighs. It had
a high - necked collar with no neckline, suited to the most modest noblewoman, buttoned up
with white pearls.
She  looked  as  if  she  were  about  to  say  something  when  Terese  called  from  the
shadows, ―Jean, it is time for bed. Come quickly now, girl. You need your rest.‖ Jean tur ned
towards Terese, looked back at Adem for a moment with eyes filled with what looked to be
pain or suffering, and then she turned and hurried off into the darkness.
Adem stared after  her  until Carl clasped  him on the shoulder, saying,  ―We best get
some  sleep too, Adem.‖ Adem sighed deeply and moved off towards their tent with Carl at
his side and Guardians patrolling their flanks. It must have been one in the morning, the near
half  moon bright  in the starlit sky. The rest of the campsite was either  mound s of sleeping
soldiers on blankets, or Guardians, Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren patrolling the campfires in small
groups.
Most Ael Tarael had tents of their own, but some Alit‘aren took to sleeping under the
stars  like  the  soldiers  and  Guardians.  There  were  mo re  tents  if  needed,  but  the  weather
allowed for a makeshift campsite that could be easily dissembled. Adem realised how tired he
was when his head hit the pillow. He had stripped off his sword belt and dark coat, kicked off
his brown leather boots and lay  in his dark trousers and pale cotton shirt. Carl extinguished
the lamps when he finally climbed into his own cot, and Adem closed his eyes and let sleep
take him. 
Chapter
16
Rivers of Sorrow
Jean sat up in her cot, drenched in sweat after waking from a   nightmare about Adem. Those
nightmares had plagued her dreams ever since she emerged from the Chameleon Arch. That
test had changed her in so many ways. She wondered if she would ever find herself again.
She  woke  in  a  sweat  most  nights  and  had  nightmares  at  least  once  a  night  but
sometimes two or three times a night. She would roll over and go back to sleep, only to enter
another nightmare about the terrible fate of the Sons of Odin and their curse upon Kismeria.
Those memories and subsequent nightmares were her chains of regret, her rivers of sorrow.
Strangely the nightmares were never about life back home, always about this strange
new land of magic and elves and angels of great power. She missed having regular dreams
and  nightmares, about shopping disasters or bad  hair days or choosing  the wrong  shade of
lipstick when going out on a hot date. She missed going to the movies and daydreaming of
one day becoming a big star. She missed her tiny apartment in the city where her agent Anna
had put her up until s he was making more money.
But most of all, she longed to see her family again, hear her mother‘s voice, see her
father smile in that way he did when he kept silent but said so much with just his eyes. She
wanted to reach out and give them both a big hug,  but she was a long way away from them
now, alone in the darkness.
The sound of Terese‘s breathing was present as always when she woke in the middle
of the night. Terese didn‘t snore, but she sometimes made funny little wheezing noises and
slight grunts through her nostrils that Jean hadn‘t told her about yet. She smiled as the former
Hero of Will made a noise that reminded her of a piglet.  
Then, she reached for the towel she kept on her pillow for just such occasions to wipe
away the sweat that soaked her brow and cheeks. When she was dry, she put her legs out over
the side of the bed and stood to dress herself behind the folding screen.
She didn‘t light any of the lanterns as she did not wish to wake Terese. Instead, she
wove a tiny ball of blue flame that  hovered in mid air behind the screen to give her enough
light  to  find a  red woollen coat and silk skirt. She  wore  white silk stockings  with crimson
leather boots.
There was a breastplate to match the outfit, but she left it standing with the others on
wooden racks. There would be no need for protection where she was going. Despite this, she
slung  her bow case over  her back with the enchanted emerald bow sticking  up above  her
shoulder and belted on her sword. Terese had instructed her to keep her Battle An gels close at
all times, and  she  understood the  importance of those words after the battle they  faced the
first night they set out.
That was over six weeks ago now, and they had made their camp around the city of
Charkel since  that  time, recruiting soldiers  for their army and bringing peace  to the region
that was infected by the threat of revolution. Charkel was where it started. It took nearly two
weeks  to  reach  the  capital,  where  they  faced  an  army  almost  equal  in  size  to  their  own,
mostly  formed  of  morta l  farmers and  villagers,  though  there were  thousands of  immortals
amongst them, wielders, Guardians, and even some Wood Kin and Archers from the Kingarin
Forest.
The immortals were mostly Nordics; however, as Charkel was a Nordic province with
over twenty thousand immortal families spread throughout the region, mostly farmers though
some were of noble blood and most of the male farmers were also listed in the defence forces
for Charkel.
It was a rude beginning to their quest, facing a potential bloodbath a gainst their own
kin, due to the taint that was infecting the minds of all male wielders, causing Alit‘aren to go
mad and destroy farms and even entire villages with the Power. The people were tired of it;
they wished something to be done about it and so b egan the spread of revolution, encouraged
by  the  middle  classes  and  some  nobility  who  rallied  these  farmer  armies  and  provided
leadership to their cause.
Fortunately, there was no blood spilled on that day, after careful negotiations between
the  leaders of  the  two armies. Negotiations  lasted  four days  in  fact,  in  large pavilion- style
tents set up in the centre of the battlefield. Jean had been present for most of those meetings,
and she sensed that the four lords and six ladies, who led the army of Charkel  were stricken
with fear and loathing over the thought of facing the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor
in battle.
They  seemed  more  than  willing  to  accept  peace  and  to  dedicate  a  portion  of  their
forces to serve in King Tobin‘s army, though they managed   to keep the discussion going for
many days through polite bickering over terms and agreements. They  were all  mortals, the
lords and ladies who represented the army of Charkel, though Terese had mentioned this was
no surprise as the immortal lords and ladies would be too ashamed to face King Tobin and
Queen Lydia in discussions of potential battles.  
‗They  undoubtedly admitted defeat  when they saw our banners and  the size of our
forces,‘ Terese had said. ‗Their blood would have run cold at the idea of makin g war against
the King of the Nordics.‘
So that first encounter had been an easy victory and order was returned to these lands.
The search for mad Alit‘aren throughout the region had been unsuccessful, despite the arrest
of three  mortal Apprentices  –  Devoted  –  who were causing  mischief  in a town close to the
capital. The taint had infected their minds to the extent that they could no longer be trusted to
hold the Power,  though they  showed  some signs of regret  for their crimes once  they were
shielded from teron and made prisoners in preparation for trial.
Charkel provided the wielders and soldiers to return those three Devoted to Nordhel,
though they would likely be held prisoners for some time before they were severed from ever
touching teron again.
Filing  these thoughts away in her mind, Jean stepped out of her tent and into the warm
night air. Four Guardians sat outside the tent flaps. Kenen, the dark - eyed one, raised a thick
black brow inquisitively at her being out so late at night.
―I require no guard t his evening,‖ she said sternly. ―Watch over Lady Terese and see
that she is not disturbed.‖ The tan - skinned Torvellen grunted and then returned to sharpening
his knife that looked more like a short sword. The other three were Nordics; they glanced up
at he r for a moment and then returned their  focus to the  game of  mohrthra’daeghal  two of
them were engaged  in, the third watching  the  game with a  look of slight amusement. Then
deep laughter erupted from the watcher and the one who had just taken a very importa nt piece
out of action. The one who lost the piece  –  Zel was his name  –   glared with cold blue eyes,
then his shoulders slumped as he released a deep groan.
Jean hoped all that noise didn‘t wake Terese. The woman would have her neck on a
plate if she found  Jean sneaking off in the middle of the night. But this wasn‘t the first time
Jean had done this; it was in fact the seventh time she had disobeyed her oath to the woman.
Drawing the dark hood of her velvet cloak up over her head to attempt a disguise, she  made
her  way  through  the  camp  towards  the  servants‘  quarters.  It  took  her  the  better  part  of  a
quarter hour to reach her destination.
The tent she was headed for glowed dimly in the moonlight, lit by a ball of blue flame
that pulsed on and off like a stro be light. It was a signal, telling her that her lover was waiting
within. She  grinned and  moved to stand  in  front of the tent  flaps where she  made a ball of
yellow  flame dance above  her right  hand.  At this signal,  the tent  flaps opened, and Adem
thrust his   head out wearing a wide grin on his muscular jaw. The yellow light that sparkled in
his blue eyes went out when he pulled her towards him, into the tent.
Inside the  tent, the strobe  light still pulsed  until  he adjusted the  weave to  make  it a
very dim pale  blue ball that outlined their faces. She untied the strap to her bow case as he
kissed her hard on the lips, placing the bow down on the red - and- blue rug that covered the
small space inside the tent.
They could stand with room above their heads inside the tent though there was barely
room to move two steps with a double bed, a chest, and a desk taking up most of the space.
She removed her cloak and let it fall to the floor as he worked at unbuckling her sword belt
with more passionate kisses on her lips a nd neck. 
His weapons  were  leaning against the side of the red quilted bed,  his  sword  in  its
black  scabbard,  and  his  bow  resting  in  its  leather  case.  He  wore  the  black  high- collared
woollen coat and dark trousers typical of an Alit‘aren, knee- high brown lea ther boots with the
Black Wolf and Red Lion sigils in gold- lined enamel on his left collar, the Blue Dragon on
his right.
His Guardian cloak was hung across the only chair in the room, making the piece of
furniture appear to be some sort of dark ghoul lurking in the shadows.
Her pulse  was beginning  to rise  from  his kisses. He  made  her  heart  flutter when  he
was so passionate and kind. His touch was so sensitive; he knew how to make her blush with
only a soft kiss, and later, he would prove again how he had   learnt to make her beg. In the
space of a week, she had become his slave of passion, his trying to be as romantic as possible
in the beginning and her making it clear she wanted action, not symbolic gestures.
She decided she would succumb to temptation after her experience in the Arch. Her
head  was  filled  with those  memories of being  Adem‘s  lover, but she  had  never done  more
than kiss him in reality. That other world; or those other dimensions within the Arch; were
reflections of Kismeria, glimpses of a wo rld without the substance of the real world.
She decided she had to know the real memory of having spent the night in her lover‘s
embrace.  A  faded reflection  was  unsatisfactory by comparison. Adem wasn‘t  the  first  man
she had bedded; she had slept with more than a few in her young adult years, but she kept that
secret from him, fearing he would judge her for it.
She had not acted any worse than most girls her own age at the time, but Adem was
strange about some things, like he was born a hundred years ago , or a thousand years  –  like
he belonged more in a world like Kismeria than he did on Earth.
He  started  working  with  her  coat  buttons  when  she  pulled  back  and  stared  at  him
pleadingly, both of them heaving for breath in the short break of coming up for air. He kissed
her again, and for a while, she kissed him back, but a new thought had blossomed in her mind
that made her pull away again.
―Do  you  expect  this  to  continue,  night  after  night?‖  she  asked  while  wearing  a
scandalized expression.
―We can be married,‖ he said earnestly. ―Let‘s do it, tonight!‖
―Terese will  have a  fit! Besides,  we‘ve discussed  marriage, and I thought I  made  it
clear that wasn‘t an option.‖
―But  I  have  to  keep  seeing  you,‖  he  said  with  desperation.  ―I‘m  lost  without  you,
Jean. Now that I‘ve had you in my arms and I know the touch of your skin against my own. I
can‘t bear the thought of being without you.‖
―Terese  will  learn  of  our  secret  meetings  soon  enough.  When  that  happens,  you‘ll
realise this was just taking advantage of an opport unity. It can‘t be more than that, Adem, not
now anyway. We have too much at stake to risk losing ourselves to lust.‖
―It‘s love that I can feel for you, Jean, true love, not some half- baked emotion.‖
―It  had better be, Adem Highlander,  for  your sake.‖ She   grinned at the  last, and  he
stared at  her  with a confused  frown. Then  he smiled too  and  he kissed  her  lightly on  the
forehead and they held each other in an embrace. After a time, he asked, ―Then why did you
come to see me?‖
―I thought I wanted to, again, ‖ she said slowly, ―but it‘s passed. Now I want to end
things, for now anyway. I can‘t keep a secret this big from Terese. She will never trust me
again.‖
―I understand. So you won‘t come tomorrow night?‖
―I will let you know when we can be together again.  Until then, you‘ll just have to be
patient.‖ She stood to gather her belongings after that, fastening the Fox Rohjor pin around
her  neck  after  belting  on  her  bow  case  and  sword.  She  pulled  the  hood  up  over  her  face
before stepping out of the tent.
When she  looked back to wave  farewell, she saw  his eyes  looked empty again;  her
sense of him through the  kigare   was that he was falling through endless flames, though his
heart was ice.
She often wondered how he could be like that. He could suddenly change from  such a
warm  loving  man to such a cold  heartless creature. She  worried  for  him when she  sensed
those emotions  in  him. She worried  for all  men  who could  wield the Power but  him  more
than any other.
―Did  you  accept  your  Healing  this  evening?‖  she  asked  as  an  afterthought  before
lifting the tent door flaps.
―Of course,‖ he whispered. ―They never forget to send someone.‖
―Good,‖  was all  she said, and  then she stepped out  into the  moonlight  and walked
away.  As  she  made  her  way  back  through  the  servants‘  camp,  she  noticed  more  soldiers
moving  about  than  she  would  normally  expect,  and  some  Alit‘aren  swaggering  with  selfimportance through the firelight.
It was rare for Alit‘aren or Ael Tarael to enter this part of the camp unless there was a
perceived danger of an  attack. She was almost walking directly into the path of two mortal
Alit‘aren when she decided  it would be wiser to be seen rather than appear to be trying to
hide.
Removing  her hood she continued to approach the two  men  –  dark- eyed Rodor and
pale- haired  Eli  –  they  were  young  for  Alit‘aren,  newly  raised  after  passing  through  the
Chameleon Arch at Rutheldor some three years past. They both had the look of boys to them
really,  though the  fire  in their eyes was beyond those  years;  it spoke of a crackling dan ger
that could explode like a wagon full of fireworks. The taint worked its evil in them all.
The  two  men  appeared  surprised  when  they  recognised  her  in  the  moonlight,  the
moment after she removed her hood. Green- eyed Eli cocked his head to one side and Rodor
stroked the right end of his moustache that was quite thick for his twenty four years.
Both  were  of  equal  height  with  Adem,  only  slightly  taller  than  herself;  she
straightened her spine to stare them down as Eli remarked, ―You should not be out wander ing
alone at night, Jean Fairsythe.‖
―I  wanted to take a stroll  in  the  night air,‖ she said defiantly.  ―There  is  no rule that
says I cannot do so alone, within the confines of the camp.‖
―Yes,  but  Terese  Marheildon‘s  orders,‖  Rodor  said  indignantly.  ―You  a re  to  be
watched at all times. Where are your Guardians?‖
―I told  you,‖ she snapped,  ―I wished  to spend some time alone. What are  you two
doing  in  the servants‘ camp? Why do I see Alit‘aren and even some Ael  Tarael  wandering
about?‖  
The  two  young  men  appeared  taken  aback  by  her  tone,  before  Rodor  answered,
―Scouts  have  reported  seeing  signs  of  vampires  in  the  nearby  fields  and  forests.  Animals
drained of blood with distinctive bite marks.
―Livestock mostly, and most victims were found several days ride from here, but the
guard has been increased as a precaution. We were told to patrol this part of the camp to be
sure  there  are  wielders  to  protect  the  servants.‖  The  man  spoke  as  if  he  were  defending
himself, though Jean did not press him further; she had he r own secrets to conceal.
―Very well,‖ she said. ―Go about your business.‖
―We should escort you back to your tent,‖ Eli said in high tones. ―Lady Silverblade
would skin us alive if she learnt that we let you . . .‖
―You have your orders!‖ Jean commanded,  cutting him off midsentence. ―Go back to
your duties. Do  not speak a word of this to anyone. Terese  must  not know of  my . . . late night strolls. You never saw me, understood?‖
The two men stood with jaws flapping for a few moments before Rodor pressed his
fist to heart and said, ―You have my word, Daughter of Thor.‖ Eli then copied the man and
also swore.
She grinned to herself as she turned and pulled the hood back over her head. It was
nice to be in command for a change. However, the news of the threat  of vampires made her
move back to her tent with haste.
When  she  arrived  at  the  door  to  her  tent,  she  saw  a  golden  light  burning  within,
Terese‘s dark braid and perfect posture a silhouette against the striped canvas wall.  Terese is
awake! she thought with  a stab of guilt. She wasn‘t particularly afraid of the woman‘s temper
these  days,  but  she  regretted  having  to  face  her  when  Jean  had  failed  her  in  terms  of
honouring their agreement.
Honour was everything to Terese.
The four Guardians were now standing to attention outside the door flaps, each with
the look of a large cat that had been browbeaten by a more ferocious feline. So Terese took
her temper out on them for letting Jean leave without telling her. It would be difficult to get
past them from now on.  They would surely alert the woman the moment Jean left unguarded,
if they even allowed her to leave her tent without an escort. She decided it was wise that she
had ended things with Adem tonight; it couldn‘t have continued after what she was about to
end ure.
―Lady Silverblade  wishes to speak with  you,‖ Kenen said through clenched teeth as
she approached. As Captain Commander of Jean‘s personal  guard,  it was  likely  he  was the
one  to  bear  the  brunt  of  Terese‘s  recent  outbursts.  ―Her  orders  were  that  you  are   to  wait
outside until you are called, Jean Fairsythe.‖
―Am I to stand here and consider my fate?‖ Jean called through the tent wall, though
Terese made no reply, the shadow of a quill feather bristling over the desk where the woman
sat.
So she stood for a good quarter hour, trying not to glare at the four men who had been
blamed  for  her disappearance. Finally, Kenen admitted,  ―Perhaps we were a tad too  loud,
and, well . . . I think we  woke  her.  Zel was  making quite a comeback  in  the  last round of
mohrthra’daeghal, and we all  got a bit excited  for  him, except  for  Tad that  is, who  looked
like he had just sucked the bitterest lime he ever tasted, so then we . . .‖ 
―I get the general drift of it, Kenen,‖ Jean said, cutting him off midsentence, followed
by a deep sigh. Then she whispered, ―Does she know this is not the first time?‖
―I know  everything!”  Terese snapped,  her braid  vanishing behind her silhouette as
she turned  to regard  Jean  through  the  tent wall. Jean often  forgot  how keen  the  woman‘s
hearing was  as it was with all immortals. ―Send her in,‖ Terese said after a pause where Jean
heard the woman taking slow deep breaths, obviously trying to calm herself before exploding
like a canon.
Jean entered the tent, the light within cast by one large, square lantern standing atop
the oak desk  that  was carved with  foxes chasing plump chickens. Terese  had  salvaged  the
desk from piles of furniture and other gilded items that were gathered for a bonfire, one of the
more disturbing practices emerging from revolution.
The  farmer  armies  wanted  to  overthrow  the  monarchy,  so  they  saw  any  signs  of
wealth or luxury as something to be burnt or gifted amongst the lower classes. Jean assumed
the lords and ladies leading this revolution hadn‘t factored in such practices when  they began.
It was  likely they despised seeing  finely crafted furniture turned  into  firewood, or priceless
works of art bartered  for a crate of eggs, two chickens, and a handful of rabbit  furs. Order
was slowly being restored however.
―You should‘ve known  I would catch you out, sooner or later,‖ Terese said, glancing
up  from  the  scroll  she  was  writing  on.  Jean  was  unsure  whether  to  ask  if  the  letter  was
detailing Terese‘s newfound knowledge of her late night strolls. ―You asked to be treated as
an equal, ra ther than a pupil, so I give a little slack and you run wild. Why should I trust you
again?‖ Her tone was surprisingly calm, though a fire burnt in those large dark eyes.
―It was only a few times . . . ,‖ Jean began, before the former ghost cut her off wi th,
―Seven! Seven times you have broken your oath to me! Six out of seven of those nights you
broke more than your oath, you broke the thin thread of trust I laid out for you.
―I‘m certain you didn‘t bed him tonight as I‘ve learnt your outings were a grea t deal
longer every other night.  Therefore, I surmise that the young  fool  has some stamina.‖ Jean
began to blush. ―Regardless of this,‖ Terese continued, ―I feel you have left me without any
other option, other than to punish you severely.
―As  you  have be haved  more  like a  greedy child, rather  than a  strong- willed  young
woman, I feel the most fitting punishment is to take something away from you, like taking the
rattle away  from the baby.‖ She  smiled at that  last comment,  looking  mighty pleased with
herself.
―I‘m not sure I follow . . . ,‖ Jean said slowly, before Terese spoke over her saying, ―I
have decided I can no longer be your trainer. I will continue to act as your bodyguard, though
your training with the sword will fall into the hands of . . . anothe r.‖ She smiled again at the
last, some secret brewing her sense of humour.
―Who will take over?‖
―You  will  learn  soon  enough,‖  she  said,  that  secret  grin  revealing  greater  fuel  for
amusement.
―Not one of the Guardians?‖
―No,  you  will  find  this  new  trainer  tougher  than  any  Guardian,‖  that  secret  grin
flashed again. ―Now I suggest you get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day for you. I have much
planned.‖  Jean  shrugged  under  that  dark- eyed  glare,  turned  to  stride  towards  her  cot,  and
began to undress.
―I hope it‘s not Martha,‖ Jean said teasingly as she leaned her Lukrorian Bow against
the side dresser.
―You got it in one,‖ Terese replied, and when Jean spun about in shock to face her,
the woman wore the look of a cat with a mouse in its claws. A cold shiver ran  down Jean‘s
spine; Martha Skongrarth was the Kismerian equivalent to a Viking warrior woman. She was
in fact from one of the seaside clans whose ancestors had invaded Kismeria after travelling
across the Great Sea over three hundred years ago. So she was a  Viking! Taller than Jean by a
head and shoulders, the woman was big boned and thick muscled. Although she didn‘t attain
the title of  Blademaiden,  it was said there were  few  men  who would dare to  face  her even
with practice blades. Before the revolution, Martha had served as a Gate Captain for Charkel,
now she  was recruited  in  Tobin‘s army after being recommended by a number of the other
local  captains.  Jean presumed she  was recommended  in an attempt to  get  her out of their
territory. The woman had the temp er of a charging bull, and that was on a good day.
―Break  your  oath  to  me  again,  and  I  shall  find  even  more  imaginative  forms  of
punishment,‖ Terese said with an expression of controlled rage. ―Martha will be your trainer
until I believe you have regained  your honour.‖
Blushing again, Jean made a half- curtsy partial bow with a bend to her knees and a tilt
of  her head. She then changed  into  her  nightgown  –  a blue silk  garment embroidered with
white  foxes  –  and  climbed  into  bed  to  pull  the  blankets  up  over  her  head.  ―Sleep  well,‖
Terese said teasingly. Jean replied with a loud groan. Moments passed until the woman said,
―You should know his illness is progressing.‖ Jean pulled back the blankets and sat up in bed
to stare at the other woman as she asked, ―Wha t do you mean?‖
***
Adem sat on the edge of the bed for some time after Jean left. He still slept in his own tent
where Carl also still had a cot, though he always waited at least a half hour, before stepping
out,  just to avoid suspicion. Any servant who  recognised Adem Highlander,  leaving a tent,
moments  after  Jean  Fairsythe,  would  start  rumours  that  would  result  in  the  entire  camp
knowing of their secret meetings by lunch time the next day.
He sat alone with his thoughts, his heartache springing up ane w at Jean‘s rejection, his
sense of falling through endless flames extended to his awareness of Arawn‘s silent brooding
through the  kigare.  His Battle Angel always appeared  to be descending  into  fire,  his  heart
colder than a lump of ice. As usual Arawn offered no words of wisdom, nor any sympathy for
Adem‘s plight.
The  Angel  of  the  Underworld  seemed  to  consider  love  a  wasted  emotion.  Indeed
emotion seemed wasted in the eyes of his Battle Angel. Arawn was a weapon, unbreakable,
like cold hard steel, a raging torrent of destruction, like rivers of flame. The more Adem was
joined  to this  warrior  spirit through the  kigare,  the  more  he saw comparisons between  his
own psyche and that of the Great Angel.
Was  it the  taint  infecting  his  mind, the Sickness, or  the  Darkness as  the  immortals
called it? Or was it a part of that connection with this Angel of the Low Realm. Whatever the
case, his concentration was failing; his training was suffering as a result, both with the sword
and the Power. He became agitated with people more often, snapping at Guardians, Alit‘aren,
even  Carl  and  Wil  at  times.  His  two  friends  seemed  the  least  offended  by  it  though  they
seemed more cautious of his mood swings as the days progressed. This past week spent with
Jean  had  eased  some  of  his  symptoms  though  now  he  felt  himself  erupting  inside  like  a
volcano.
He rubbed his eyes and then his temples; headaches were also becoming a problem.
That had been a major sign that his illness was progressing when he was on Earth. In those
days,  he would  increase the dose to ease those symptoms. That was  no  longer an option of
course.
Perhaps if he had known more about what was in his medication, he could get some
alchemists to brew up something for the infected men. Though a bad batch could possibly be
deadly, he didn‘t know enough about that sort of thing to even make an attempt.
He decided more Healing was the sensible choice. He would have to seek out an Ael
Tarael skilled in that practice. Lira had become somewhat of a recluse these past few weeks;
every time  he  asked after  her, she  was  reportedly busy with some other task that kept  her
from seeing to his treatment.
He wondered about that,  had the  woman seen something  in  him  that  frightened  her
enough to keep her distance whenever possible. And if so , was it a vision, or a Reading, or
did she simply sense the nature of his illness which was enough to intimidate her into hiding
from his sight? She had some ability to see the taint, or at least the illness that infected his
mind before  he  learnt to wield the Power, though Orion and other close confidants  insisted
these were one and the same thing, the taint and his illness.
He stood  to belt on  his sword and bow case,  fastening  the Krielden  sigil pin of  his
cloak around his neck. He pulled the hood up ove r his face before stepping out through the
tent door,  the  globe of blue  light  vanishing as  he stepped  into the  moonlight.  There were
walled tents all around the one  he  and Jean  had  used  for  their secret  meetings.  The signal
lights would only have been visible to anyone awake in the surrounding tents.
As  he  stepped  through  the  maze  of  right  angle  laneways  across  muddy  earth,  he
noticed Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael moving about through the servants‘ camp. There were a lot
more than  he would  have expected to see,  dozens of them  in small  groups of two or three.
Something was wrong; there must be a newly perceived danger.
He moved on until he nearly stumbled into the path of Kaishel Lirbrine, an Ael Tarael
with  hard dark eyes and a  thick dark braid  falling below  her waist. The  woman‘s  youthful
face appeared agitated when  she saw him  remove  his  hood. She was  shadowed by  her tall
Guardian. Ardo Dulen was thick muscled with a dark moustache and blue eagle‘s eyes.
―You shouldn‘t be wandering about unguarded, Adem,‖ the  woman said with fire in
her eyes. Mortal Ael Tarael and Alit‘aren usually called him by his first and second name like
the immortals, though Kaishel always addressed him simply as Adem, a touch of scorn in her
voice each time she said his name. 
―Why are th ere so many wielders inside the servants‘ camp?‖ he asked her to block
the question. Her eyes bulged, possibly at his audacity, before she replied, ―You of all people
should  know  we  have  a  growing  vampire  problem.  That  is  exactly  why  you  should  be
guarded at all times, Adem. What are you doing in the servants‘ camp?‖
―I was on  my  way  to  find an Ael  Tarael  to provide an extra dose of Healing,‖  he
replied calmly.
―Yes,  you  look very pale. Come to  me, I will sort  you out.‖ She extended  her right
hand reaching out towards his skull. He stepped out of her reach as a reflex; for some reason,
he didn‘t trust the woman‘s eyes, or her tone, this time in particular.
Ardo grunted at the offense and his hand gripped the hilt of his sheathed blade. Adem
could  easily  han dle  the  man  with  weaves  of  Air,  though  with  Kaishel  there  to  block  the
weaves, the man could easily skewer him like a boar in a heartbeat.
―Forgive me,‖ he said earnestly. ―I had another in mind for my treatment.‖
―Lira Tolnock will not see you,‖ the woman  almost snapped, Adem thought this very
strange. How many Ael Tarael knew the woman was avoiding him?
―Can you tell me why?‖
―I  only  know  that  she  wishes  to  avoid  being  made  responsible  for  your  ongoing
treatment.‖
―And  you  would  gladly  take  her place,‖  he phrased that  more as stated  fact  than a
question.
―I only wish for you to remain well, as well as we can keep you, Adem,‖ that touch of
scorn again. ―You are vital to the preservation of Kismeria, you and your Brothers. Will you
not submit to my care?‖ She extended her hand again, but he was out of her reach.
―I will make other arrangements,‖ he said before he prepared to step around the grimfaced Guardian. ―Excuse me, good evening to you both.‖
When  he  had taken a number of decent strides away  from  the pair, he  looked back
over his shoulder to see their moonlit faces regarding him still.
He continued onwards towards the Ael  Tarael camp,  which was  in the centre of the
circles of tents and campfires that made up the other parts of the camp. The Alit‘are n camp
surrounded the Ael Tarael camp, followed by the servant camp, then the Guardians, soldiers,
and horses formed the outer rings. Orion and Tobin‘s tents, as well as the Saviour tents and
various  nobility,  were within  the Ael  Tarael camp, spread throug hout  various rings of tents
that  belonged  to  Guardians  or  wielders,  both  male  and  female.  Luckily,  Kaishel  hadn‘t
pressed him further as to what he was doing outside the Ael Tarael camp in the first place.
His thoughts lingered on Kaishel as he crossed into the Alit‘aren camp. It wasn‘t that
he  suspected the woman was a  Darkservant,  he just didn‘t trust  her, or  her  Guardian.  Her
attempts to try to Heal him aroused his suspicions further however.
Would a Darkservant wielder make such a bold attempt on the life of one of the Sons
of Odin? His distrust of Ael Tarael he was not familiar with was possibly another sign of his
illness increasing, though he knew Healing could easily be changed to a weave of death and
he would be completely unaware until it was too  late.
Soldiers, Guardians, and Alit‘aren sat around the golden firelight, some looking up to
regard him with a suspicious glare if they did not recognise his hooded face. Those that did
recognise him offered a wave or even the occasional salute with fist to chest.  
Apprentice  and  Gai‘den  level  wielders  were  also  seen  in  small  groups  around  the
fires. It was only about one in the morning, still early for some though they would only get
about five hours‘ sleep. He wondered how they could cope with so little s hut- eye. Surely it
increased their symptoms.
Surprisingly, he sensed little contempt from the male wielders in regard to the Sons of
Odin infecting  teron  with the taint. Female wielders struggled to hide their contempt, though
for the most part, male wielders seemed to accept their fate.
He  worried  about  the  future  however,  a  future  with  thousands  of  mad  wielders,
potentially evil  men who could  level  mountains when  linked  in  a chain of  ten or  more of
similar strength to Adem. They could level entire cities with that much of the Power.
What would this world look like after the Age of Chaos? Would any of the cities still
stand? What of his immortal friends? Would they survive to see the next Age? How mad or
evil  would Orion and  Tobin be  if  they  lived anothe r thousand  years with the taint  in their
veins?
Adem was aware that both kings had avoided even touching the Power, since the first
days that teron  was infected.
That was wise,  Adem thought,  the King of the Nordics and the King of the Torvellen
would be vital to lead the armies that fought the madmen who wreaked havoc upon the land.
Without the Power to aid them, they would become more like Guardians to Lydia and
Elmira. Taking on the role of protector of a female wielder, their skill with the blade would
be their one true power. It must have affected their pride to lose such abilities, the power to
destroy with only a thought, and the ability to defend without weapons of steel. The two men
were  considered  strong  amongst  male  wielders  of  the  day,  too.  To  go  so  long  without
wielding, the ecstasy and bliss of teron would also be like losing a part of their soul.
Sometimes he thought he could see that longing in their eyes.
Better that than the dark fire I see in the eyes of so many male wielders, he thought  to
himself as he passed another gathering of Devoted and Gai‘den.
The young men waved, all mortal boys of age sixteen or seventeen. Mortal wielders
were  usually raised  much  earlier than  immortals.  There was a perceived sense of  urgency
with mortals; most  would be fully raised by their twenty- first year.
Apparently, some immortal wielders could remain Devoted or Gai‘den for thirty years
or  more.  Immortals  received  more  thorough  training  with  the  Power  during  those  years,
though the mortal wielders were fo rged into weapons, using  teron  to tear demons apart with
Air, blast them with walls of Fire, or strike them with bolts of lightning.
They were effective weapons.
When he looked in the eyes of those young men, he saw fear however. They were the eyes of
frightened children,  living  in terror of one day becoming as evil as the creatures they were
trained to destroy. He felt a stab of pain in his heart, and he couldn‘t ignore their fears. They
were doomed because of him. He and his friends had brought the taint. It was his fault that
they would suffer. Yet they also looked at him as if he was their only hope of survival and
their last chance at salvation. He stumbled onwards with a heavy heart, brooding just like his
Battle Angel, the two of them descending into endless circles of flames.
Chapter
17
A Spear of Fire
Carl sat at his writing desk in the large tent he shared with Adem. Wil had been sleeping in
another tent with  his  new bride Hayley ever since that  night they  were  wed. With  Adem‘s
recent outings  –  obviously he was meeting with Jean in secret  –  Carl was left with peace and
quiet to read over the scriptures he was assembling. He didn‘t like to go to sleep too early,
and this newfound work kept him busy enough to forget his other troubles.
He adjusted the  light of the  lantern that sat atop the  heavy stained desk carved with
lions. It was the only light within the large tent except for the moonlight that poured through
a thin  sheet  in  the roof of  the canvas. He  worked with a quill and  ink,  writing pas sages of
scripture that he had memorised from readings back home. Most days he would dictate to the
scholars  and  scribes  who  transferred  the  words  to  neatly  cut  square  sheets  of  paper  for
assembling into a number of large books. He found that doing God‘s work here, in this land
that he could only describe as Pagan, was a fulfilling task that rejuvenated his mind and soul.
He felt he needed that as many months working with  teron, and the taint, was taking
its toll on his state of mind. He tried to avoid touc hing  the Power, though  its allure was so
strong  he  found  that  he  had to allow a trickling of  teron  to  flow  through  his  veins at  least
once a day.
The only other times he used the Power was when he was creating more of those giant
crosses that glowed with  a magic he didn‘t quite understand yet. He continued to make them
however as he felt it was a symbol of Christ that needed to be spread throughout the lands.
These people were barbaric in so many ways, like the Romans when they worshipped
false gods. They  were bloodthirsty and cruel; some even sacrificed animals in the ways of the
old Pagans of Earth. He had to convert them to Christ‘s teachings; it was a duty he considered
highest on his list of priorities.
Their hopes that he would lead their armies in t he Great Battle against their Dark Lord
seemed to be an expectation beyond his capabilities. He wished Adem would face that fact.
Sure he had great powers here in this world, the knowledge of a High Druid, the battle wits of
a Captain General Commander, and the memories and talents of some of the greatest legends
in the history of Kismeria, all gifted to him through his rebirth in the Chameleon Arch.
But he wasn‘t ready to lead armies, sure he had led an assault upon the demons that
threatened to wipe out their army, but that was the memories of those dead men that filled his
mind that told him what to do in that situation.
He  himself  was  a  man  of  peace,  a  pacifist,  a  kind- hearted  soul,  not  a  bloodthirsty
warrior from some lost Age.
What if those memories  failed him when he faced the Dark One in battle? What if he
was forced to face the Heart of Evil with only his own mind as a resource? He would surely
die. Why couldn‘t Adem see that? What would it take to convince him?
You  will  have  me  also,  Son  of  Odin,  boomed  the  deep  voice  of  Math  Mathonwy
through the kigare to his mind. Carl glanced up from his work to stare at the spear of fire that
leaned against the desk.
The enchantment upon the spear itself was also a source of power that fed the Great
Angel, something Carl had begun to study in the hope of making more powerful weapons. He
had already increased the strength of the crimson spear, formed of pure gold though it shone
incandescent red.
He reached out to  grasp the spear  in  his  right  hand to better co mmunicate with  his
Battle Angel. It was warm to the touch but not burning hot like a coal or metal dipped in fire.
I know you will always be there for me,  my friend, Carl sent through the  kigare.  But
are you strong enough to face the Dark One?
Silence followed, his sense of Math Mathonwy was that he was brooding in a cloud of
flames. The Angel of the Underworld had done this for as long as Carl had been joined with
him through the  kigare, though he understood it was a new practice as a result of the taint.
Fire  had  always  been  a  strength  amongst  the  Low  Realm  Angels  though  the  brooding  in
flames seemed to result from their inevitable descent into madness.
Will you still fight for me if you are so corrupted you become a spirit of evil?  Carl
asked as he  gri pped the  glowing  metal.  There  was a  long pause as  if  his  Battle  Angel  was
contemplating the question before Carl  heard  I will serve you, always, Son of Odin . There
was another pause and then,  But who will  you  fight for when the taint has you  in its grasp?
A cold shiver  ran down Carl‘s spine.  He often  wondered about that question.  If  he
couldn‘t find a way to reverse the effects of the taint, this world was doomed. There was no
way they could save these people as the Prophecies promised they would, but they   had surely
begun the process of breaking them.
His senses suddenly became alert to Adem receiving Healing.
His sense of  Adem  through the  kigare  was  faint compared to  his sense of Wil, but
with Jean added in the mix, his awareness of what Wil and Hayley a nd obviously Adem and
Jean had been up to these past six nights was something he often struggled to block from his
mind.  Indeed,  Wil  and  Hayley  had  been  going  at  it  every  night  since  their  wedding;  the
emotions  that  surged  through  his  friend  during  those  first  nights  made  it  easy  for  Carl  to
detect the same behaviour in Adem and Jean in the past week.
He had sensed those emotions rising in Adem and Jean earlier this evening, though it
hadn‘t lasted long enough to have been anything more than a few passiona te kisses. His sense
of  Adem  was  that  he  seemed  very  upset  following  that  brief  meeting  though  the  Healing
seemed to balance him out.
After the Healing, Adem was fast approaching the tent. He was some distance away
though Carl was certain he was within the   Ael Tarael camp. When Carl released his grip on
the spear of  fire, he  noticed  his sense of  Adem  faded significantly. He  understood this was
because his Link to his friends was part of the kigare that was shared by their Battle Angels.
Therefore, his sense of Adem increased when he focused his connection with Math
Mathonwy,  as  his  Battle  Angel  was  closely  connected  to  Arawn,  Adem‘s  Battle  Angel.
However, he had never noted such a strong contrast between holding the spear and letting go.
Perhaps their Link  through the  kigare  increased  in strength also. He continued to read over
his notes until Adem stepped through the tent flaps.
He looked up to face his friend who wore a calm face that matched his current mood.
The  result of  the  Healing  no doubt, because so mething still  had  him  deeply disturbed,  he
burnt within that tainted mind of his, wreathed in flames. ―I take it things didn‘t go so well
between you and Jean this evening.‖ Carl offered as much compassion as he could muster.
―I don‘t wish to discuss  it,‖  was all  Adem said, and then he sat on one of the highbacked cushioned chairs to rest his feet on a small stool. He rubbed his temples, closed his
eyes, and breathed deeply in that meditation way of his.
―How are your headaches these days?‖ Carl asked.
―Getting worse,‖ Adem said while still rubbing his temples. ―Some days I would stay
in bed if not for the Healing. It removes them for a time, though tonight even Healing isn‘t
enough to stop this pain in my skull. Are you suffering from the same?‖
―Headaches  aren‘t  a  problem  for  me,  yet,‖  Carl  admitted.  ―Do  you  think  if  you
controlled your mood a little better, the headaches might dissipate?‖
―What‘s wrong with  my  mood?‖  Adem asked, opening one eye. He was still calm
however, normally a question like that would have unsettled him.
―You are lashing out at people all the time now, Adem. I think you‘re losing control
of your temper to say the least. I know you‘re under a lot of pressure, we all are. But it seems
to be a sign of . . . well, madness.‖
Adem opened both eyes, lowering his hands to rest them on the arms of the chair. His
brow was furrowed, he looked cross for a moment, and then he broke into a silent chuckle,
his body shaking  from the  force of his amusement. Suddenly, the  laughter became signs of
pain ; he trembled until he lowered his head and gave a deep whining sigh.
When  he  finished this display, he stared Carl  in the eyes and said,  ―I‘m a  long way
from  mad  yet, old  friend.‖  His  mood  was calm  again, both  his  facial expression and what
Carl could se nse of him. Moments before Carl had sensed a whirlwind of emotions flooding
his friend‘s mind and soul, an intense high cascading into a terrible low.
―I‘m concerned about you, Adem. You insist that we must stay here and fight for this
lost cause, but each   day I see you becoming more dangerous to be around. What if you lose
all memory of your true self?  
―Will you still expect me to trust you?‖ The man‘s eyes took on an inward gaze as if
he  were  hearing  voices  inside  his  mind.  Carl  hoped  it  was  only  Arawn  s peaking  to  him
through  the  kigare.  As  far  as  he  knew,  hearing  voices  had  never  been  a  part  of  Adem‘s
illness.
Carl had admitted hearing screams of men and women in the palace of Nordhel, late
at night, which none of his immortal guards ever heard, so it must have been a sign that Carl
too was descending into madness. Perhaps the effects of the taint would be different for all of
them. He hadn‘t heard any voices since he began his daily Healing however.
Finally, Adem asked, ―What would you have me do, give  up holding the Power? Even
you can‘t resist the temptation to reach for teron  at least once a day. You do it when I am far
away,  in the  hope that I will  not know, but I sense  it through the  kigare, the emotions that
flood your mind when you hold lightning  in your veins.‖
―You told me we have a duty, Adem, an obligation to serve the people. If we are to
fight more battles, I must increase my ability to wield. Do not accuse me of having some kind
of addiction to the bliss of teron.
The  taint  that  floats  upon  that  river  of  fire  and  ice  is  a  molten  filth  that  turns  my
stomach. If I could avoid touching it ever again, I would make it so. But you are the one who
insists that we must stay and make war with the Lord of Darkness.
―This is not my fight, Adem Highlander.‖
A  crack  of  thunder  broke  the  air,  and  then  twin  bolts  of  lightning  flared  in  the
distance, the pale blue glow transparent through the roof and wall of the tent.
Carl didn‘t need to know the skies were clear of clouds to be certain the lightning had
been cast by female wielders. Something was attacking the camp.
Adem leapt to his feet and reached for his blue bow that was leaning against his chair
in  its  brown  leather  case.  ―It  must  be  vampires!‖  he  said  urgently.  More  lightning  flared
through the wa ll of the tent, on both sides this time; the enemy must be trying to infiltrate the
main camp.
That  meant  they were  not the  newly  turned scavenger  vampires who were  formally
servants and soldiers in Tobin‘s army. It was most likely these Nightwalkers were   under the
command of Tairark Vampireking.
Carl was belting on his bow case when a dark- eyed Guardian entered the tent to report
the attack. The dark- eyed Torvellen was formerly one of Orion‘s personal bodyguards though
he had been appointed as one of Carl‘s tent guards this past month.
Kole was his name; he wore the dark coat and armour typical of  most Wolf Rohjor
Guardians.  ―The  attack  seems  small,‖  Kole  said,  ―and  unorganised.  We  suspect  they  are
aimed at the Saviours however.‖
―I  have to  get to Jean.‖  Adem  said, and then  he charged out of the tent before Carl
could try to stop him. He reached for his spear as he said to Kole, ―Follow me.‖
One of the other Guardians,  who watched Carl‘s tent,  was waiting outside when  he
stepped into the moonlight. He reported that the other two had followed Adem. Carl began to
move through the laneways of tents with haste, the two Guardians flanking him a pace behind
on either side.
Shouts of soldiers were heard  in  the distance,  the clash of steel, and the occasional
flare of  lightning  in the sky.  Men and  women sometimes  rushed by through the  laneways
ahead of them, mostly Ael Tarael and Guardians though sometimes nervous - faced servants or
soldiers in breastplates, holding spears or waving swords.
The  moon  was  near  full  tonight,  though  Carl  didn‘t  glance  up  once  to  see  if  any
vampires were circling the skies above him. He left that up to his Guardians. Both of them
held their enchanted bows with arrows of coloured flame.
He was focused on the path before him, taking long  strides and using his spear like a
walking staff. His grip on the spear increased his sense of Wil through the  kigare. His friend
was  in serious pain,  not physical but emotional pain, deep anguish. Something  was terribly
wrong.
When  he  arrived at  Wil  and  Hayley‘s tent  –  a red and  white striped wall construct
with  a  golden  light  within  –  twelve  Guardians  stood  around  the  door  to  the  tent.  They
appeared to be crowding around something.
When Carl approached, they parted to reveal four Guardians lying with their throats
ripped out.  The bodies of  men  in breastplates or  leather  jerkins  were also  scattered  about,
their decapitated heads revealing the dark seed - like eyes of vampires.
He stepped into the tent to see Wil crouched beside the bed where Hayley lay with   her
eyes closed. She looked very pale and very still. A man lay on the floor, his head separated
from  his body. Wil‘s axe  had obviously  seen to that. The bearded  face also bore the black
vampire eyes and  long white  fangs. A pool of blood soaked the colour ful  rug that covered
that part of the floor.
A large hole in the back of the tent revealed where the intruder had entered.
It  was only when Carl  moved  to stand  next to  his  friend that  he  saw the  twin bite
marks in the side of his wife‘s neck. A terrible pain gripped Wil‘s heart, a deep sorrow that he
shared with Carl through their spiritual connection.
―Oh, Wil, I‘m so sorry . . . ,‖ Carl began before Wil  said,  ―You can cure  her, can‘t
you? You know things, Carl, things none of these wielders have ever thought of doing with
the Power. You can find a way. You can save her, right?‖
―Wil, I don‘t know how to save her.‖
―You  can  try!‖  Wil  screamed.  ―You  can  try  for  me!  You  can  try  for  her!  Do
something, please, save her!  Pleeaasse!‖ Wil‘s head fell on to her waist, his hand clutching
hers. He began to make deep throated sobbing sounds, a man in pain beyond imagining. Carl
understood  then  that  this attack  had been aimed at  Wil, aimed at what  his  heart  cared  for
most. The enemy was trying to break the Sons of Odin from within their core. And then it hit
him.
―Oh  my God, Wil, I  have to  go! They‘re probably  going  after Jean too!‖ He turned
and began to make his way to the door of the tent when Wil called, ―Promise me you‘ll come
back and try to help my wife, Carl. You promise me!‖
Carl turned to face his friend. Tears were streaming down Wil‘s face, his eyes red and
puffy. He looked completely lost.
―I‘ll come back,  Wil. I‘ll  try something, I promise.‖  A  light of  hope blossomed  in
Wil‘s eyes, and then he turned back  to Hayley, stroking her hand and whispering in her ear.
Carl leapt through the tent door and pushed past the Guardians to charge off into the night.
***
Adem  moved  through  the  night  with  speed  and  stealth.  His  footfalls  were  almost  silent
despite the fact that he was practically sprinting. Lightning flashed in the sky as he ran past
campfires and through laneways of tents. He cursed the fact that Terese had insisted Jean‘s
tent be pitched so far away from his own.
His bow was gripped in his right hand though he hadn‘t stopped to use it once so far,
although he had had several opportunities to shoot down vampires from the night sky when
he looked up.
He ran with desperation; a number of times he saw vampires feeding on servants or
soldiers,  but  they  were  not  Jean;  they  were  not  his  heart,  so  he  kept  running.  There  was
nothing  he  could  do  for  them  anyway.  Once  they  were  bitten,  they  would  either  die  or
become vampires. Healing could save some from death, but they were still infected with the
curse.
He couldn‘t waste a moment to save another life when Jean‘s was in danger though.
His sense of her through the  kigare  was that she was  focused, slightly  frightened but  more
alarmed.
So not in pain or immediate danger, he thought as  he ran on through a  laneway o f
tents.
Arawn told  him Jean  hadn‘t summoned either of her Battle Angels  yet either which
suggested Terese had things under control. He heard a woman‘s scream and turned to see a
dark haired man with eyes like black seeds forcing himself down on top of a  young servant
girl.
He decided he could spare a moment to save this young woman. He drew back on the
string of his Lukrorian Bow, and a shaft of brilliant blue light appeared. He released and the
arrow launched into the skull of the vampire, blue sparks flying as his hair caught fire.
The man screamed and rolled off the woman, slapping his head in an attempt to put
out the  flames.  The  vampire  leapt to  his  feet,  hair still burning blue, when  Adem released
another blue arrow that struck  the  man‘s armour, bu rning  through the  iron plate. The  man
fell, clutching the gaping blue hole in his chest but that wasn‘t enough to kill him.
As  the  woman  stood  and  stumbled  towards  Adem  while  screaming  frantically,  he
drew back on the string again, drawing  heavy  flows of  teron  into the shaft of  flames, then
released. The arrow struck the man‘s forehead and his skull exploded like a ripe melon under
a sledge hammer. He could  have achieved this with the first arrow, but  he didn‘t want any
vampire blood falling into the mouth of the screaming woman.
The  woman  reached  him  and  clawed  at  his  coat,  falling  to  her  knees  with  tears
streaming down her face. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. ―You have to
run fast, or I‘ll have to leave you behind,‖ he told her.
She  had stopped screaming when she reached him, and she nodded as she stared wide
eyed. He started to run, and she soon showed she could keep up no matter how fast he ran. It
was desperation that fuelled him. He guessed her motivation was terror. They ran on t hrough
the  laneways of  tents and past campfires though  he  saw  no one  to take over  guarding this
young woman, so he kept onwards towards Jean‘s tent.
He was still holding the dark- eyed woman‘s hand when he saw Jean standing outside
the front of her tent with Terese at her side. Jean turned to regard him fast approaching while
holding hands with this dark- haired servant girl.
Jean and  Terese both  raised an  eyebrow  in that calculating way women did  when
they were judging you. He tried to let go off the woman‘s hand, but she gripped it hard even
after they stopped running, and they were both heaving for breath.
―I see you‘ve made a new friend,‖ Jean said with a sour pout to her lips. The servant
girl smiled and said,  ―Forgive  me, Daughter of  Thor.  I  meant no o ffense.  Adem saved  my
life, that‘s all. And I was so frightened I held his hand the entire time we ran. I didn‘t want to
let go.‖
―Yes,  I see that,‖ Jean said  with a  jealous stare  for  his eyes.  ―What  is  your  name,
girl?‖
―Belsy is my name, Belsy Dalori.‖
―You are a pretty young thing,‖ Jean said with a sudden smirk. ―Adem‘s heart must
have leapt at the chance to save such a pretty face.‖
The way she said that was cold and mirthless. Adem then looked around to see five
vampire men slain at the feet of the G uardians who stood in front of the tent door.
―Are  you all right, Jean?‖  he asked. She  gave  him a  hurt  look before  she said,  ―It
seems they wanted me dead or to become one of them. Luckily, Terese was still awake when
one of them cut a hole through the back of our tent.‖
She stood with  her arms crossed under her breasts,  in a blue silk coat and skirt, red
woollen stockings, and blue knee- high boots. Her golden hair was perfectly neat and braided,
identical to Terese‘s thick dark braid. The immortal woman  wore a long green coat and tight
dark trousers with knee- high brown leather boots. She stood staring at Adem as if he should
say something to soothe Jean‘s hurt feelings.
―Jean, I came for you as soon as I knew we were under attack. I sensed you weren‘t in
any great danger, and then I saw this young woman with a man on top of her, and I . . .‖
―You did what  you had to, Adem,‖ Jean said with a casual  wave.  ―I expect nothing
more  from  you.‖  Then she turned and  marched back towards her tent. He  moved to  follow
her, but Belsy still gripped his hand. He pulled away from the girl, and she gave him a hurt
look.
He took two steps to follow Jean to her tent when Terese was suddenly stepping into
his path. ―Leave her!‖ the woman snapped. ―You have done enough already ! Did you think I
wouldn‘t find out about the two of you and your secret meetings?‖
Adem  took a step back, and  Terese stepped  in  to stand  face to  face  with  him. She
raised a finger under his nose as she said, ―I warned you, Adem Highlander. I told you not  to
toy  with  her emotions. But  you did exactly  that! Now I have to punish  her for  your  selfish
acts!
―If you were any other man, I would cut you down where you stand.‖ That last was
spoken through clenched teeth. ―We have everything under control here, as   you can see. Why
don‘t you take young Belsy here for a nice roll in the hay, eh?‖ With a satisfied grin, she spun
on  her  heel  and stalked away. He released a deep sigh before Belsy said, ―I‘m sorry that I
made trouble for you, Adem.‖
―It‘s not your fault,  Belsy.‖ He then called one of the Guardians to take the girl back
to her camp. The attack appeared to be over. If they had only been after Jean, their attempt
was foiled. He slung his bow back in the case that hung under his cloak. He was not going to
lea ve until Jean was safe.
He gripped his sword to draw the blade when he was struck by a sense of immense
pain . . . it was coming from Wil! Something terrible had happened! He turned to make his
way towards his friend‘s tent when he saw Carl‘s red spear glowing in the shadows. They ran
towards one another and when they met, Carl shouted, ―Is Jean all right?‖
―She‘s fine,‖ Adem said. ―Why? What happened to Wil?‖
―It‘s not Wil who‘s been hurt,‖ Carl said with anger in his eyes. ―It‘s his wife!‖
***
Wil knelt beside  his  wife  for  what seemed  an eternity as  he waited  for Carl  to return.  He
whispered  to Hayley  the  entire  time,  ―Carl can save  you,  my darling.  He  will  save  you, I
promise.‖ She had passed in and out of consciousness a number of times, her eyes fluttering
open; then closing again.
Each time she looked at him, he saw dread in her eyes. She knew she was cursed. She
knew it meant she would be hunted like an animal. But he would not let her become another
Nightwalker, something to be feared and hated. He would protect her; he could keep her safe.
Even  if  he had  to  leave  Tobin‘s army, they could  go away  together, and  live  their  lives  in
peace, hiding  from the world.  He struggled to control  his weeping as he  waited, deep sobs
erupting from his throat each time he lost hope.
Finally, he sensed Carl approaching, and Adem was with him. His sense of Adem was
that he felt Wil‘s pain too, they both did. ―Carl is on his way, my darling. He will save you, I
promise.‖
When  his  friends entered  the  tent,  he  looked  up  at Carl  with pleading  in  his eyes.
―You will  try something, won‘t  you? You said  you would. You promised.‖ Carl  moved to
kneel beside Wil, leaning the red spear against the bedpost.
Adem stood further back with his arms crossed over his chest. He offered no words
of sympathy though  he  looked deeply concerned. Adem wasn‘t one  for  words at times  like
these. He was cold, emotionless, like his Angel of the Underworld.
For the first time, Wil understood Adem‘s pain though. He understood that emotion of
falling through fire; he sensed in the man so often of late.
Without Hayley, Wil would become filled with more sadness and hatred than his own
Battle Angel. Dis Pater offered no words of wisdom or sympathy through the  kigare. He too
was heartless and cold.
Carl  placed  his  right  hand  on  Hayley‘s  forehead,  closed  his  eyes,  and  began  what
must have been the Seeking, to determine the nature of her illness and how to cure her. Some
time passed before Carl said, ―I cannot cure the infection, but I can alter its affects .‖
―You can make her well again?‖ Wil asked hopefully.
―I  can  make  it  appear  that  she  isn‘t  infected,‖  Carl  explained.  ―She  will  be  warm
blooded. She will be able to walk in daylight. Other vampires will know what she is, but she
will be stronger than they  are, faster too. She may gain other gifts as she begins to feed, but
she will not crave human blood. Goat or sheep blood should keep her healthy. We will have
the servants supply it from the animals they slaughter for eating. It‘s the best I can do, Wil.
Perhaps this way she won‘t appear as a threat, and she can remain your wife.‖
―Do it, Carl,‖ Wil said. ―I‘ll accept anything to keep her by my side.‖ Carl then placed
his left hand on her brow and clasped his right fist around the burning spear. The red li ght of
the shaft became brighter when he closed his eyes and began to concentrate. There were no
chanting words or incantations; he just focused flows of  teron  into her body.
Wil could sense  that  it  took relatively  small amounts of the Power  to complete  t he
operation. Hayley lay completely still the entire time, her eyes fluttering occasionally though
they did not open. He guessed Carl had to touch the spear to gain some assistance from Math
Mathonwy.
Though Wil assumed the spell was something Carl had learnt through his experiences
inside the Chameleon Arch. His sudden jump in knowledge of the Power was so extreme it
had  to be a  result of  his rebirth. Wil  had also changed dramatically  from  that experience,
though all the memories of those ancient warriors  did not give him enough courage to face
life without Hayley.
Most of those immortal men had died in battle, all of them regretting their lost love at
the  end.  If  Hayley  died  from  this,  Wil  would  not  rest  until  he  had  destroyed  Tairark
Vampireking and every last creature that served him. He vowed to avenge her even if she did
survive. She  was so  young, so  innocent, and  now she  was doomed to carry a curse  in  her
veins.
Finally, Carl released  his  grip on  the spear, the  light  fading to a duller red, and  he
re moved his hand from her brow as her eyes fluttered again, then opened.
―Is she well?‖ Wil asked.
―She is better,‖ Carl said, ―better than any other of her kind. You must keep her well
fed, Wil. She will no longer crave normal food. She can drink water or  wine, but it will do
her no good.
―You know what she needs to survive. She needs to feed immediately. This alteration
spell has sped up the turning process. She is already one of them.‖
―I‘ll  have  someone  gather  some  blood,‖  Adem  said.  His  cold  blue  eyes  appeared
pained, though his voice was void of emotion. When he left the tent, Wil looked at Hayley
and said, ―You‘re going to be all right, my sweetheart. Everything will be fine, I promise.‖
Carl  leaned  on  his  spear  to  get  to  his  feet;  then  he  paced  towards  an  armchair  with  red
cushions.
―I‘ll stay until I‘m certain she‘ll recover,‖ Carl said after he sat.
―I won‘t forget this,‖ Wil said. ―Thank you, my friend.‖
―It‘s nothing,‖ Carl said. ―It‘s the least I can do.‖ Wil turned back to Hayley; her dark
eyes  looked calm now, peaceful, though after a time her brow became furrowed.
―I‘m so thirsty, Wil,‖ she said, sounding weak. 
―We‘ll get you something to drink, my darling,‖ Wil said, and then he turned to Carl
to ask, ―Couldn‘t you have healed her too?‖
―She must drink to Heal properly,‖ Carl replied. They waited in silence after that until
Adem returned with a servant girl carrying a bronze goblet and pitcher. The dark - eyed  girl
looked very nervous as she moved towards the bed.
While the young woman was setting the tray down on a table next to the bed, Orion
and Tobin entered the tent, both in black coats and trousers under their shadow cloaks. The
two immortal kings wore grim expressions as they moved to stand a few paces from the bed.
―You may leave us now, Belsy,‖ Adem said to the servant girl, who gave an adequate
curtsy and hurried from the tent. She had already poured a goblet full of the dark liquid which
Wil was holding up to Hayley‘s lips after helping her to sit upright with pillows for support.
Hayl ey sipped at first and then took a gulp, then her eyes widened as she clutched the
goblet  with  both  hands  and  emptied  the  contents  down  her  throat.  When  she  released  the
goblet, Wil saw her little white fangs soaked in blood.
―How do  you  feel,  my  love?‖  he  asked  her as  he  watched  her bite  marks  instantly
Heal to smooth skin.
―Much better, thank you,‖ Hayley replied. She wiped the edge of the goblet and then
sucked that finger for the remaining drops.
―This will not do,‖ Tobin said in his deep tones. ―Do you expect to keep her alive?‖
―Carl  has altered the  infection,‖ Wil said defensively,  ―and  yes, she  is  my wife, I‘ll
murder  any  man  who  tries to  harm  her. She  will  not crave  human blood,  she can  walk  in
daylight, and she will have other gifts.
―I‘m not thrilled with the situation, but perhaps it will be harder now for the enemy to
make her a target.‖
―Her  bite  won‘t  be  contagious  either,‖  Carl  explained.  ―She  didn‘t  have  to  die  to
become one of them, and she will remain mostly human, with a human soul.‖
―You   must explain this process to us, Carl Wilder,‖ Orion said musingly. ―If all this is
true, it may lead to an actual cure for the vampire disease. We will begin to teach the weaves
to Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael, and we will make records of these spells.‖
―That is something I wanted to discuss with you all, now that we are here,‖ Carl said
with one  hand holding the spear beside the chair. ―These past  few  weeks, as you all know,
over a dozen Guardians have turned assassin against their own kin. The only explanat ion for
this was that the taint  had turned them  mad or perhaps even evil. Four Alit‘aren have been
imprisoned and are awaiting  trial at Nordhel. Alit‘aren  who began screaming  like  madmen
and  unleashing  waves  of  the  Power  that  killed  over  thirty  soldiers  and  twice  as  many
servants.‖
―We know this, Carl Wilder,‖ Tobin said  gruffly.  ―It  is the  taint on  teron.  It drives
them all to madness. What is your point?‖
―That is my point exactly, King Tobin,‖ Carl replied. ―The taint drives them all mad.
In the case of  Guardians, it is their Lukrorian Bows that cause their illness. If we took away
these enchanted bows and replaced them with normal bows and normal arrows . . .‖
―We cannot face the Dark Armies without our Lukrorian Bows!‖ Tobin shouted. ―Our
Guardians beco me useless without them!‖
―They are still expert archers,‖ Carl said sternly. ―They will just have a limited supply
of arrows. They are also still Blademasters, perfectly suited to guarding Ael Tarael.
―The Guardians will have a new role from now on, most  will serve the Ael Tarael as
personal bodyguards, and  they  will  remain  in this  role  for  life. A war  is coming  between
Alit‘aren and Ael Tarael, and the Ael Tarael must win that war if Kismeria is to survive.‖
The  two  kings‘  faces  were  grim  indeed.  Wil  lis tened  intently  while  holding  on  to
Hayley‘s left hand. She was lying down again, her expression intent on what Carl was saying.
Adem‘s expression was also focused, though Wil‘s sense of him through the  kigare  was that
he was in conflict with Carl‘s ideas.
―Yes, but . . . what will we do with the Lukrorian Bows?‖ Tobin asked. ―Would you
have us throw them into the sea?‖
―Give  them  to  the  female  wielders,‖  Carl  said.  ―There  are  enough  minor  wielders
amongst  the  immortals to  take the bows  and put  them  to  good  use.  A declaration  must be
written that outlaws any Guardian to wield a Lukrorian Bow from this day forth.
―Those that disobey will be arrested and sent for trial. Those found guilty of breaking
the new law will be severed from  teron.‖
―But that is a deat h sentence,‖ Orion pleaded. ―We rely too heavily on the Guardians
to enforce such a law.‖
―The law shall be the same for all Alit‘aren,‖ Carl interjected, ―as all male wielders
shall be ordered to never touch teron again, from this day forward.‖ That brought grunts from
both kings and a pained groan from Adem. Wil just stared at Carl in amazement.
―That would cripple our  forces,‖ Orion  said  in disgust,  ―and the  Alit‘aren  will  not
accept this.‖
―You  are  two  of  the  four  immortal  kings,‖  Carl  said  firmly.  ―You  must  write  the
declaration  and  have  the  order  sent  to  the  King  of  the  Dremelden  and  the  King  of  the
Ruhalden. The order must be sent to all corners of the Free Lands so that this law is enforced
across the entire continent. If we don‘t make this move now,   I fear we will face more deaths
than this world can recover from.‖
―Will this law extend to the Sons of Odin?‖ Tobin asked incredulously.
―My  Brothers and I  will  have to  use the Power  to defeat the Dark One,‖ Carl said
calmly.  ―That  much  is  a  certainty.  T hough,  we  must  limit  our  use  of  the  Power  to  avoid
falling into madness.
―There is no way to enforce or restrict the amount each of us holds or wields at any
given time, because punishing us by restricting our resources could make us easier targets for
ou r enemies.
―However, I vow to only hold teron  for one hour . . . once a week.‖
―Well, I will not agree to that last part,‖ Adem said stubbornly.
―Then the day may come when I am forced to hunt you down, old friend,‖ Carl said
with  a  frown  and  deep  pain  in  his  eyes.  Adem  glared  at  him  with  what  appeared  to  be
extreme anger, before he turned and marched out of the tent in a huff.
―You must write the declaration immediately,‖ Carl instructed. ―Have copies sent to
the other rulers tonight and spread the word a mongst the  men  in  the camp. If the Alit‘aren
don‘t  like  it,  they can  leave. It will be the beginning of this  inevitable war that  will surely
destroy you all.‖ The two kings stared at Carl with arms crossed over their chests for some
time before they also l eft in foul moods.
Carl remained in that chair for another hour and a half after that. He kept watch over
Hayley as the changes set  in. He said she was still  in a  fragile state, and  he didn‘t want to
leave her if there was something more he could do. It mu st have been nearly two hours after
Adem and the kings had left that lightning flared in the night sky, roaring thunder and dozens
of thick blue bolts falling in the distance.
Wil sensed that it was from male wielders. A Guardian entered the tent to stand  and
salute about a quarter  hour after,  the  lightning  had ceased  moments before.  The  Guardian
wore Wolf Rohjor armour with a regular wooden bow sticking up above his right shoulder.
―The Alit‘aren have started a rebellion,‖ the man said as if reporting th at he‘d eaten
fish and potatoes for dinner. He had the tanned skin and dark blue eyes of a Torvellen. ―Most
were unhappy about the new laws. They left with a large number of Guardians, claiming they
would  form their own city where the  laws did not stand.  T here  was some effort to contain
them by the Ael Tarael who were nearby. The Alit‘aren tied some of the women up in weaves
of Air, the rest . . . were murdered. The Alit‘aren were also able to convince more than half
the Devoted and Gai‘den to follow them.‖
―And what is your name, Guardian?‖ Carl asked.
―Lendel Alduri,‖ the man replied.
―You choose to remain loyal to your king, Lendel,‖ Carl remarked.
―I remain loyal to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor,‖ Lendel said with his
fist pressed to heart.
― What of Adem?‖ Carl asked.
―Adem  Highlander  remains  in  his  tent.  He  was  seen  speaking  to  several  Alit‘aren
before the uprising however. There is a suspicion that he influenced their decision.‖ The man
then turned to exit the tent.
Wil looked to Carl with concern as he asked, ―Should we do something?‖
―Leave  them to  handle  it themselves,‖ Carl  said  with a wave of  his  hand.  ―Though
what has begun tonight will return to haunt us. Tomorrow will be the dawning of the Age of
Chaos.‖
Lightning  flared,  thunder  roared,  and  then  silence.  After  a  time  of  apparent  deep
contemplation, when Hayley had drifted back to sleep, Carl said, ―There is one other thing.‖
―What is it?‖ Wil asked.
―Your wife . . . she is pregnant.‖
Chapter
18
A Dark Princess
Wil stayed at his wife‘s bed side the entire night. She drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally
moaning, twitching, and bearing  her  fangs. Carl said  it was the changes setting  in.  By  first
light, Carl decided she would survive, and he left to return to his own tent to get some rest.
His friend had remained awake the entire night also, his concern for Hayley as apparent as if
it were his own wife he was caring for.
Carl  must‘ve been blaming  himself  for the deaths of those  Ael Tarael who  tried to
stop the Alit‘aren from l eaving. He was the one who ordered the new laws, so he would no
doubt see it as his fault entirely.
The light appeared to disturb Hayley when she woke, though Carl had explained that
that  would also pass  in  time. She  looked  healthier  now, a pink  glow  to  he r cheeks and a
glossy shine to  her dark  hair. He  gave her another  goblet  full of  the sheep‘s blood that she
sipped this time while sitting up in bed with a sly look in her eyes.
―So you decided to spare my life, dear husband,‖ she said with a grin after wi ping her
lips.
―How do you feel?‖ he asked her.
―I  feel different,‖ she replied with a look of wonder. ―I  feel  like I could run all day
and never get sore or tired. But I also feel sadness, regret, that I will never live a normal life
again. I guess it was  my fate, Wil Martyr, as much my own destiny as it was to be your wife.
―Perhaps I will survive long enough to await your return. I will be lonely without you,
but I will find ways to keep my mind distracted from the loss of you.‖
That  was something Wil  had already discussed with Hayley  many times since their
marriage, the fact that the Sons of Odin were supposed to leave Kismeria for over a thousand
years before the Second  Arrival.  Hayley  had been  mortal  until  now, and although  the Ael
Tarael said she  had some ability to  learn to  wield  terael, the small amount she could draw
would  not  have preserved  her  for  much  longer than  her  natural  lifetime. Now there was a
chance that she would survive, and wait for his return. It filled him with hope, but he also fe lt
a deep sadness that it took a curse to create this miracle.
―I will not leave you,‖ he told her. 
―Dear husband, you simply must,‖ she said in a lecturing tone. ―For you are the one
who  will  grow  old  and  die  if  you  remain  in  Kismeria,  and  you  shall  never  see  the  Great
Battle, where it is your destiny to fight beside your Brothers.‖
―I can‘t bear the thought of leaving you alone for that long,‖ he said as he brushed her
cheek. ―I will be fine,‖ Hayley said. ―It is our only chance of seeing each other again .‖ He put
both arms around  her waist then;  she  wrapped  her arms around  his  neck and  hugged  him
gently. He started to kiss her lips and felt the light stabbing of her little fangs against his skin,
but he didn‘t pull away. This was how it was supposed to be.
She was his wife, his dark princess.
The same servant girl, Belsy, brought another pitcher of blood and a tray of breads
and  fruits  for breakfast. Wil didn‘t try  to entice  Hayley  to even taste  the  food,  though she
drank two  goblets  full  of the sheep‘s b lood. Carl said  her  thirst would  lessen as the days
progressed. For now she needed to build her strength. After breakfast, Wil donned his black
coat and trousers with knee- high brown leather boots. He wore the sigils of the Sons of Odin
on his collar like  Adem and Carl.
The people  who  followed them expected them to  wear those symbols of power. He
had spent the evening still in his sleeping trousers and a white shirt that he replaced with a
black silk one when  he dressed  in the  morning. He‘d kept his axe of  golden  light close the
entire night in case of another attack. He slipped the enchanted weapon into his belt loop after
strapping on his bow case. It was a warm spring day, so he didn‘t bother to bring his cloak.
Hayley wore a green silk dress so dark it  appeared black, with silver patterns like birds and
fish  around  the  low- cut  neckline  that  exposed  her  ample  bosom.  She  left  her  hair  falling
around her face rather than tying it into her usual braid. She looked beautiful, though his heart
ached over what h ad been done to her.
―I  thought  we‘d take a stroll  through the city,‖  he said when  they  left the  tent. She
wore high-   heeled red- leather hiking boots under the divided skirts which he had suggested
for her. Six Guardians followed them as they made their wa y through camp, rather than the
usual four.
He assumed Tobin or Orion had ordered the extra two bodyguards. Lendel was one of
them, and all  wore dark armour  and coats except  for one who  wore a crimson breastplate.
They  all  carried  normal  wooden  bows  now,  which  prompted  Wil  to  ask  Lendel,  ―What
became of your Lukrorian Bow?‖
―It was added to the piles to be given to female wielders,‖ Lendel replied.
―I  want  you  to  collect  one  for  me  and  store  it  in  my  tent,‖  Wil  said.  ―And  have
someone patch up that hole th e intruder made.‖ The slain vampire had been removed during
the night while Wil waited for Carl to return to perform the spell upon Hayley.
The carpet was still heavily bloodstained however. ―Tell King Tobin I‘d like a new
rug  too, thank  you. And  find an  ornate bow case,  for  my  lovely  wife.‖  Lendel saluted and
then moved off into the crowds. Hayley raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him as they moved
on before he said, ―If I can give you unlimited arrows of flame, my mind will rest a lot easier
when we are apart. Perhaps you should learn to use a sword too. I‘ll have a talk with Terese.‖
***
It took over an hour to reach the outer gates of Charkel. The city was surrounded by fifty -feet- high  grey  stone  walls  with watch  towers spread around  the diamond - shaped  defences.
Soldiers  marched  along  the  tops  of  the  walls  armed  with  crossbows.  Hundreds  of  people
swarmed around the  huge raised portcullis and  tunnel,  where carts and wagons were given
right of  way.  Inside the walls,  more soldiers  marched  with spears or swords at their  hips,
wearing armour of bronze or iron or steel. They had to give their names to the Gate Captain
who scrawled them down on rolled parchment, the dark- eyed man eyed Wil with awe when
he gave his name.
―You honour us, Son of Odin,‖ the man sai d. ―My name is Kelsid Torbros. Give my
name at the markets for a discount on anything you desire.‖ Wil thanked Kelsid, and Hayley
gave him a grin that made the man‘s grey moustache bristle. He must have noticed her fangs
though he made no comment.
The  market  square  was  spread  along  the  Merchant  Road  that  was  the  wide  stone paved strip that ran from the inner gate to the heart of the city. Stalls on wooden tables and
cloth - covered boxes lined both sides of the street with animal pens further back, selling e very
farm animal imaginable, even horses and cows! The front rows sold anything from weapons,
jewellery, and home decor, to books, clothing, and even artefacts from past Ages.
He started by buying Hayley a gold necklace with a decent- sized ruby. He had plenty
of  gold  given  to  him  as  one  of  the  Chosen.  The  necklace  cost  more  than  he  had  hoped
however, taking more than three quarters of his coin. The plump old woman who sold her the
necklace  seemed  very  pleased  with  the  deal  though  he  didn‘t  care  about  the  c ost,  he  just
worried he might not have enough to buy her a sword and the real reason he was there.
They  looked at swords at seven blacksmith stalls,  finally choosing one  in a crimson
scabbard worked with golden stars. Seven five- pointed stars also covered  the steel blade that
the blacksmith insisted was enchanted with  terael. Hayley still could not sense enchantments,
and  he  couldn‘t  sense  the  female  half  of  the  Power,  so  he  asked  an  Ael  Tarael  he  saw
standing nearby if she could test the blade.
When the Ael Tarael held the sword, it began to glow red, and she assured him it was
a demon - slaying blade. ―From the past Age,‖ the woman said  –  Febrise Lanto was her name.
Febrise then helped them argue a better price for the sword despite Wil giving his own name
and the Gate Captain‘s. He found he still had enough coin to get what he was really after too.
They  strolled  around  the  animal  pens  for  some  time.  They  looked  at  pigs,  sheep,
ducks, and  geese  including  lambs and ducklings, but  meat or blood was  not what W il  was
after. Finally, they arrived at a pen that had puppies. That was his first idea, and he was about
to buy two of the cute brown pups when he heard the barks of two adult versions. The dogs
were  large  enough  to  be  small  ponies,  brown  furred  with  large  dark  eyes.  They  were  the
mother and father.
―How  much do  you want  for those two?‖  he asked the owner as  he pointed to  the
adult dogs.
The grey bearded man‘s round belly shook with laughter before he waved a hand and
said, ―They only answer to me.‖
―If I can make them come to me and sit with only a wave and the command, will you
give  me a decent price  for them?‖ Wil  asked, to  which the  man replied,  ―If  you can  make
them sit, I‘ll give them to you for free!‖ Then he burst into laughter again. Wil grinned and
was about to summon them with his new gift of speaking to animals, when Hayley whistled
and the two dogs charged towards her to stop and sit at her feet. Wil tried to hide his shock as
Hayley patted the  male and scratched the  female behind the ears. It  was then  that  the  man
noticed Hayley‘s teeth. His eyes widened, and he went pale as he waved a fist and said, ―You
tricked me! She‘s a . . .‖
―I‘ll pay  you  for  them  if  you keep  your  voice down,‖ Wil  said, cutting the  man off
before he named her in front of everyone.
―My price will be high,‖ the man said with a nervous expression. Wil tossed the man
the leather purse with the remaining gold and silver in it.
―I‘ll  give  you three times that tomorrow  if  you keep this to  yourself,‖  he  said  in a
reasoning tone. ―But I take the dogs with me now. Do we have a deal?‖
The man agreed though Wil suspected his reasoning was that it was better not to get
on the bad side of vampire that can walk in daylight. Of course, he would be able to afford
dozens  more pairs of breed ing dogs  like these with the  gold  he was promised. His nervous
eyes changed to a pleased grin when he emptied the coins on the table and started to inspect
their markings.
―Good day to you, good sir.‖ the man said, waving goodbye as they started away with
the dogs at their heels. ―I‘ll be here tomorrow, waiting for my gold.‖ There was no threat in
his tone however, and he wore a pleading expression when Wil turned to catch a glimpse.
―How  did  you  do  that?‖  he  whispered  to  Hayley  when  they  were  alone  on  the
Merchant Road.
―I don‘t have your gift, dear husband, but I just knew they would  like  me. Call  it a
woman‘s intuition.‖
A vampire’s sixth sense more likely, Wil thought as they headed towards the gate.
When they returned to their tent, there was a golden Lukrorian Bow with black veins
leaning against the bed post. It was in a dark green leather case worked with small gems and
golden scrollwork.
―Perfect,‖ Wil said as he  handed  the bow to  his  wife.  Hayley  held the bow with an
uncertain  expression,  though  whe n  she  pulled  back  on  the  string,  a  faint  golden  arrow
appeared. A moment later, it vanished before she had relaxed the string, but Wil assured her
she would get better at it. She had received some training to learn to wield with little success
so far. Her  new abilities must have sped up the process. She tried the string again, and this
time the arrow was brighter and appeared  more  substantial,  remaining  until  she  eased  the
string to straight again.
― Terael,  it  feels amazing!‖  Hayley exclaimed.  ―It‘s the  mos t exhilarating emotion. I
can‘t describe it properly, but I love it!‖
―Let‘s go and see Terese about some sword practice,‖ Wil said with a smile. ―I have a favour
to ask Jean Fairsythe.‖
***
Jean stood  in a  clearing  with pine and oak  trees surrounding  he r on  the edges of the Ael
Tarael camp. She was heaving for breath from the intense work out she was forced to endure
as part of her sword training. Her new trainer  –  the Viking!  –  stood with arms crossed under
her large breasts, wearing a leather jerkin fitted to her form that was sewn with steel discs.
The large woman barked orders at Jean constantly as she moved from one form to the
next, Mirror of Blades becoming Street Sweeper, then Cradle of Cuts turned into Hammer of
Steel. She  focused  her  mind  while  struggling to slow  her breath. There  was  no cool breeze
today either, nothing to relieve her of the hot sweat that covered her skin. Terese stood nearby
wearing a very pleased expression.
Damn the woman for doing this to me! Jean thought with a sniff. Sh e meant Terese of
course, though she felt the same way about her new trainer. Lady Swan became Cross Cleave
in a blurring of the blade that reflected the light, becoming Shadow Dancer followed by Night
Hawk‘s Wings.
One thing Jean had to admit that her new trainer was gifted with the blade. The times
Martha  had sparred with her with the practice blade so far  had taught Jean that Terese  had
been going easy on her. Jean realised then that she was less capable with the blade than she
had thought.
Four  Ael  Tarael and a half - dozen Guardians stood watching at a distance. A black coated Gai‘den named Del stood there also, though he stood a considerable distance from the
Ael Tarael. Overnight, the trust between male and female wielders had been shattered.
Del was  only twenty, green eyed with spiked sandy hair. He was mortal, formally a
part of the armies of Charkel. There had been a lot of male wielders loyal to the revolution at
Charkel in the beginning, which seemed strange considering the fact that the revolutio n was
aimed at stamping out all male wielders.
Now he was one of the loyal ones who had remained despite the fact that he would
never be able to touch  teron  again. He wore a sword at his hip, and he watched Jean as if he
wanted  to  receive  the  same  lessons  she  was  getting.  Male  sword  training  was  different
though,  different  forms  with  different  names.  The  female  forms  were  designed  to
accommodate for the fact that women would usually have less force behind their strikes and
parries. Holding the sword, she was more attuned to the mind of Druantia through the  kigare.
Her emerald bow that was the Resting Point for her other Battle Angel, Tanriel, lay
nearby  on  the  green  field.  Both  were  encouraging  her  though,  their  thoughts  entering  her
mind, giving her focus, feeding her strength of will. Both weapons had been enhanced with
some of the ki’mera orbs stored from the most recent battle against Nymloc and Jacoulra.
The  sword would  now easily destroy either of  those  types of demon  with  the  first
strike. Dodging t he razor black claws of either in the heat of battle was still a concern though.
Woman on the  Water, the blade slicing  horizontal through the air, became Knife Reeds, a
series of vertical chopping actions, flowing into Heart Weaver which was a killing strike.
―Good,‖  Martha  exclaimed  in  the  accent  of  her  ancestors.  ―Now  faster  this  time,
Slicing Icicles, into Morning Storm, then finish with Heart Weaver.‖ Jean flowed through the
forms as Druantia sent through the  kigare.
You would do better if you held the Power while you practiced.
Terese disagreed however, always insisting that the bliss of  terael  could distract her
from the forms. Despite this, Jean opened herself to the flood of emotions and the grace of
the Light  that  terael  gave  her.  A  greater sense  of calm  washed over  her; she practiced  the
forms again, finishing with a decapitating swipe. She was more fluid this time, more in tune
with the blade and her surroundings.
She  noticed the chirping of birds  more clearly; the  grass seemed to  glow a brighte r
green,  her breathing slowed.  ―That was  much better,‖ Martha  said  with a smirk.  ―You  are
holding it now, yes? Terael, it makes you more efficient, more deadly. I want you to hold the
Power every time you practice the forms until I say to release.‖
―That will tire her out,‖ Terese interjected.
―Did you not make me her new trainer?‖ Martha asked with a raised brow.
―Of course, I did,  my apologies,‖  Terese said with a  humbled expression. Jean then
noticed Wil  and Hayley approaching over the rise.  They  looked  as  if  they wanted to speak
with her.
―Can we take a break?‖ she asked her trainer, who grunted with a nod after seeing the
reason.
Martha still seemed somewhat awed by the Sons of Odin, even though she treated the
Daughter of Thor like an untrained lapdo g as she said, ―You may release terael  for your short
break.‖ Jean sighed as the bliss of the Power drained out of her; she would have held on to
terael  if she hadn‘t felt that Martha‘s words were a command.
She  moved  to  stand  facing  Wil  and  Hayley;  she  noticed  the  woman‘s  fangs
immediately. She had already heard about the young woman‘s fate. It pained her heart to see
such a young innocent soul poisoned in such a way. A sword hung from her silver waist belt
with a golden Lukrorian Bow sticking up above her  right shoulder. Wil only wore his axe in
the loop of his thick brown leather belt. She tried to hide her sorrow for Hayley as she asked,
―You wanted to speak with me?‖
―I have a favour to ask,‖ Wil said. ―I need one of your Battle Angels for my wife‘s
protection.‖
―I will  not allow  it!‖  Terese snapped, the  woman sneaking  up behind Jean  without
notice before she spoke. ―The life of the Daughter of Thor is vital to Kismeria. I feel for your
wife‘s plight, Wil, but this can‘t be done.‖
―I‘ll  allow  it,‖  Jean  said  with  a  grin,  her  decision  motivated  by  Terese‘s  apparent
abhorrence  to  the  idea.  If  she could  win  some  small  victory over  the  woman  for  her  new
punishment, she would do all  it takes. ―She  may  have Druantia, as Tanriel  is  more closely
tied to me as she  has been with me longer.
―Tanriel also commands the skies and the earth.‖
―Druantia  is stronger,‖ Terese  insisted.  ―Think  hard before  you  make  this decision,
girl.‖
―It is done,‖ Jean said while flashing her teeth, and then she drew her sword and said
the  name, ―Druantia.‖ The Great Angel appeared hovering above Jean‘s head, the form of a
woman made of green and blue light, dark seed- shaped eyes and hair of black fire. Runes of
gold  and silver sparkled on  her shimmering  gown.  ―I release  you,  Druantia, of  t he Second
Born, Wife to the Green Man, and give your service to Hayley Martyr, wife of Wil Martyr,
one of the three Sons of Odin. To protect the wife of one of the Chosen is a great honour, and
I know you will serve in good faith.‖  
She then  looked to Hayley as she said,  ―Draw  your sword or bow to provide a new
Resting Point to complete the ceremony. No words are necessary.‖
Despite this advice,  Hayley  reached  for  her  golden bow and  held  it  forward as she
said, ―I pledge to honour this great gift from the  White Snow Fox, the Daughter of Thor, one
of the Chosen.
―I swear on the blood of my ancestors that I will serve the Light and protect what is
good and what is innocent.‖ Then she looked skyward to Druantia as she said, ―You do me
great honour, Druantia of the Second Born. I look forward to our kinship through the  kigare,
where I will know your thoughts and you shall know mine.
―I pray that  my dark powers do  not  infect  your own, and  I  hope  that we  make an
effective team, when facing the might of the Shadow.‖
Jean blinked in surprise at those words; they were wise for one as young as Hayley.
The  girl  had  become  a  woman  overnight.  The  knowledge  in  her  eyes  had  turned  from
innocence to a sly knowing. Druantia was then absorbed by the bow that glowed with gol den
light as the blue- green fire surged into the enchanted weapon.
―This  is an outrage!‖ Terese snapped.  ―The Daughter of  Thor  is  now  halved  in  her
defences. If something happens to her, Wil Martyr, I‘ll . . .‖ She waved a threatening finger at
Wil  as  he  spoke  over  her  saying,  ―Look  at  what  they‘ve  done  to  my  wife!  She  needs
protection! I am grateful for this, to both of you. I will not forget the favour. Though, I have
another to ask, of you, Terese.‖
―What is it?‖ Jean asked before Terese could refuse.
―I  want Terese to train Hayley with the sword and the bow,‖ Wil said. ―I will pay for
her training . . .‖
―Do not flaunt your purse strings at me, Son of Odin,‖ Terese said, in a new state of
calm.  ―I will  grant you this  favour, on the condition that Hayley  returns Druantia to one of
Jean‘s Resting Points when another Battle Angel can be found for your wife.‖
―I  accept  those  terms,‖  Hayley  said.  ―I  promise  to  be  a  dutiful  pupil,  Terese
Silverblade, former ghost of the Heroes of Will.‖
―There‘s no need for suc h formality with me,‖ Terese said after a sniff. ―Your training
will begin immediately. You can spar against Jean. Wil, you can stay and watch if you wish,
but she is my student, and you will not question my demands upon her, ever.‖ There was a
threat in t hat last word. Wil grinned like a proud wolf as he said, ―Of course, I will stay.‖ He
then offered a  hand to take Hayley‘s bow case while she  unbuckled the strap.  ―Go easy on
her.‖
―I will, of course,‖ Jean said.
―I was talking to my wife,‖ Wil said with t hat sly grin. Hayley smiled to expose her
little  white  fangs.  Jean  felt  a  cold  shiver  run  down  her  spine.  Terese  exhaled  audibly,
sounding  tense. Jean then turned to walk back to the centre of  the clearing, where all eyes
were on her once more.
The  young  Gai‘den  appeared  to  be  studying  his  shoes.  Was  the  man  looking  for
something or was it the madness setting in? He then looked up to her and gave a warm smile.
No! Those clear green eyes were a long way from mad. Del wasn‘t corrupted like Adem, not
yet. The n his eyes took on an inward gaze, the way she imagined she looked when her Battle
Angels spoke to her mind through the kigare.  
Then he returned to studying his shoes. Odd! Perhaps the taint had infected all of their
minds  in  some small way.  Every  man able to wield the Power was doomed to destroy the
world.
Hayley moved to stand facing Jean. They held their blades relaxed in their right hands
hanging down pointed to the ground.
―No!‖ Martha shouted  in  her thick tongue. ―You will teach her the  forms  first,  Jean
Fairsythe.  First,  Raven  Dives,  moving  into  Corn  Harvest,  flowing  into  Silver  Snake,  and
finishing with Fire on the Water.‖
Jean flowed through all four forms after moving a few paces from Hayley and facing
the same way as her. Then she moved through  them again more slowly, then slower the third
time.
―This  is Raven  Dives,‖ Jean said as she  lifted  her arms with the sword out straight,
then plunged the blade downwards and aimed at chest height, moving faster this fourth time.
―This  is  Corn  Harvest,‖  she  said  as  she  began  stepping  forward  making  sideways
angular slashes through the air.
―This is Silver Snake,‖ she said as she stopped to swing the blade upwards sliding it
around through the air like a live serpent thrashing.
―This is Fire on the Water,‖   she said as stepped in again, four long strides, flicking the
blade in precise wide cuts that was created for warding off demons. It was also a killing series
of strikes. ―Now you attack and I‘ll defend.‖
Hayley  looked  competent  when  she  ran  through  the  forms  the  first  time,  then  the
second. She moved with such fluid ease Jean nearly lost her footing. ―You‘re a fast learner,‖
Jean said after barely defending the last flourishes of Hayley‘s blade. They went through the
forms a third time when Terese said, ― Good, Hayley, you show great promise. Perhaps you
shall attain the title of Blademaiden before Jean.‖
That  put  a  bur  in  Jean‘s  boot.  ―Now  teach  her  Hawk  Moth  Flutters,  leading  into
Maiden Weeps, followed by Right Stirrup, and finish with Crimson Sun.‖ It  was Terese who
gave the order this time, which earned another grunt from Martha.
This  time  Jean  spoke  the  names  of  the  forms  every  time  she  gave  the  four
demonstrations at different speeds.
―This  is  Hawk  Moth  Flutters,‖  she  said  as  she  swung  the  sword  thro ugh  the  air,
twisting the two swipes around her form, another defensive move that was also deadly. It left
the  wielder somewhat  vulnerable to  frontal jabs  however, so  it was  traditionally  more  for
flaunting prowess.
―This is Maiden Weeps,‖ she said as she   gripped the hilt with both hands and raised it
over her head to bring it down in a flurry of cutting attacks.
―This is Right Stirrup,‖ she said as she moved the last slice of Maiden Weeps into a
right- sided downward strike that would cut a man in half if  the wielder was strong enough. It
would at least cleave a nasty wound or leave a fatal one across the chest to abdomen.
―This is Crimson Sun,‖ she said as she swung the blade up again, pointing it high and
straight upwards, to bring it down forwards in a  slice that was designed for splitting skulls. It
was a popular form for wielding the hammer or axe also.  
Jean noticed Del staring at her intently when she finished each demonstration. Out of
the corner of  her eye, though each  time she  looked at  him, he r eturned  his attention to  his
shoes.
Does he  like me? She wondered to herself.
He  isn’t  blushing,  but  I  saw  him  watching  your  behind  while  you  practiced,  was
Tanriel‘s response to her mind through the kigare.
Jean  felt  hot  flushes  in  her  cheeks!  It  was  so metimes  embarrassing  to  share  your
thoughts with another woman. Finally, Del  looked up at  her again and  gave another one of
those handsome grins.
Adem Highlander would probably kill the boy if he saw those looks, Tanriel sent  in
her angelic tones like wind chimes.
―Do you want to stand around all day making eyes at young men or do you wish to
train?‖ Martha shouted. ―Next, Knife Wind, flowing into River Warden, followed by Goose‘s
Wing, and finish with Ram Heart!‖
Jean taught the forms to Hayley and then  they practice sparred, taking turns for who
would defend the attacks. Then they practiced the entire routine, seven times until the sweat
became uncomfortable on Jean‘s skin.
She had been holding the Power the entire time though, following Martha‘s order,  and
discomfort  was  still  heaven  when  wrapped  in  the  glow  of  terael.  While  she  defended
Hayley‘s assault during those seven rounds, she sensed the Power growing in Hayley too.
She  was  holding almost as  much as Jean could  without  Tanriel! She  had  heard  the
woman had the talent to learn to wield a small amount of the Power while she was mortal,
though her newly gifted immortality had come with a surprising surge in that amount.
Druantia would be fuelling it, though the source of her strength had to come fro m her
dark curse. Jean tried to hide her shock as best she could. She had gone from simple farm girl
to dark warrior princess overnight. With a Battle Angel and  her enchanted  weapons  to aid
her, Jean suddenly saw the woman as a potential strong ally.
―We s hould go and talk,‖ Jean said when Martha allowed them to finish practice. ―We
can become friends, confide in one another, and share secrets.‖
―Is that what women do where you come from, Jean Fairsythe?‖ Hayley asked with
that sly smile.
―Well,  we  would  no rmally drink  lots of tequila shots and do each other‘s  make - up
first, then we‘d start to share. I think confiding in a friend is quite common here too, isn‘t it?‖
―Of course, I was only teasing, Jean Fairsythe.‖
―Call  me  Jean,  not Snow Fox, or  Daughter of  Thor or Chosen,  just Jean. Friend‘s
don‘t use each other‘s surnames in conversation.‖
―Yes, but it is the way of the immortals,‖ Hayley said with a hurt expression. ―I would
consider myself an immortal now. Before I accepted that I am a vampire, so I would  call you
by your full name, if we were not friends.‖ She smiled at the last, and then moved to collect
her bow from Wil who looked pleased with her skill.
Jean followed with Terese trailing after them, along with a host of Guardians when a
gathering of Ael Tarael stepped into their path. They were among those that had watched the
sword practice, Lauren Celman was amongst them, short with golden hair in intricate braids,
and she wore the crimson silk cloak of a Lion Rohjor Ael Tarael. 
―You  must  let  us begin  your training  with  the Power  this evening, Hayley Martyr,‖
Lauren said with a look of awe in her crystal blue eyes. ―Your strength is phenomenal! You
will stand high among the protectors of the White Snow Fox.‖ Her gaze shifted to Jean at the
last, the same look of wonder to her gaze.
After lunch where Jean ate fruits and drank orange juice and Hayley hopped into a
goblet  full  of  goat‘s blood,  the  two of  them  sat on the  edge of the bed  in  Jean‘s tent and
shared stories while Terese sat watching them from  a chair at the far end of the pavilion.
There  was  no  point  insisting  that  Terese  wait  outside;  she  could  just  as  easily
listen in on every word they said. The dark - eyed former ghost sat with her boots crossed over
and legs out straight, her arms resting o n either side of the thick cushioned seat.
She looked very displeased when Jean began to relate intimate stories about Adem
to her  new confidant. Hayley‘s stories about Wil were enough  to  make Jean‘s  heart  flutter;
the vampire woman giggled and whispered  things in her ear that made Terese sniff or sigh.
After about an hour of chatting about girls stuff, Lauren entered the tent to summon
Hayley for her training with the Power.
―You should join  us, Jean Fairsythe,‖ Lauren said  with a  more reserved  look to  he r
eyes.  ―From  now on, I will be training both of you, together. We see  great promise  in  you
both.‖
The Ael Tarael led them to another large tent where dozens of female wielders were
gathered  inside  the empty space.  The women wore bright silks and dark  vel vet or woollen
cloaks,  scrollwork  or  patterns  on  their  dresses  and  jewellery  shining  on  their  necks  and
fingers. Kaishel was there; her Guardian had been standing guard outside. That woman was
one of the Ael Tarael Adem didn‘t seem to trust. Jean found tha t she could be infuriating at
times, though she sensed no evil intent in the woman.
Bellessair Roltoff was there in a blue velvet cloak. Her eyes were deep green and her
hair in a dark braid. Her cloak pin was of the Snow Fox Rohjor, as her white gown sewn  with
intricate silver foxes also indicated. Lira Tolnock was also amongst them, in a deep - sea green
velvet cloak and emerald silk  gown with divided skirts  for riding; the Wolf  Rohjor brooch
fastening her cloak.
Lira had been hiding from Adem for some time now refusing to be appointed as his
Healer. Jean wondered at the woman‘s reasons for that decision. She either despised him, or
she was  in  love with  him. Jean decided  she  would question the  immortal woman about  it
some other time.
The  rest  were  faces  Jea n  recognised  though  she  didn‘t  know  all  of  their  names.
Kaishel stared with that agitated look to her eyes; Lira appeared subdued with her thoughts,
while that expression of awe had returned to Lauren‘s face as she said, ―We will begin with
casting fire an d shields. You will teach both of these weaves to Hayley and then take turns
practicing each, against one another.‖
Jean felt that she was competent to teach the weaves, so she began by telling Hayley
to embrace  terael. The next moment Hayley was flooded  with the Power, her eyes taking on
that  look of  nearly exploding  with  joy.  That brought a  murmur  from  many of the women
standing around watching.
They whispered to one another behind cupped hands and others stared with a startled
faces. ―Do not draw so mu ch so quickly,‖ Lauren instructed, ―you could easily burn yourself
out  and  become  permanently  severed.  Release  more  than  half  of  what  you  hold  now,  or
Jean‘s shields will not be able to withstand your attacks.‖ That last comment was also a blow
to Jean‘s e go. She believed she could block her if she had Tanriel‘s assistance though.
She then taught the weaves for a simple frontal shield that protected the entire body.
Hayley was a fast learner with weaves too, and she soon had it mastered, so she then taught
the weave  for casting balls of  flame. The  first ball of  fire Hayley created  was  golden;  the
second blue, the third red, the fourth orange, and finally purple.
She  had  mastered  nearly  every  temperature  of  fire  in  her  first  lesson!  Each  time
Hayley cast one  of the balls of fire, Jean wove a frontal shield that was barely able to deflect
the attack.  It  wasn‘t  that Jean  was  weak  with  the Power after  her  sword training;  she just
wasn‘t strong enough with Air yet to hold off against Hayley‘s strength.
She decided  not  to test Hayley‘s  strength  with  shields by casting  while  holding  the
maximum amount of the Power. Instead, she started with a quarter at Lauren‘s command and
then progressed slowly up to half way. The shields appeared as a transparent glow of blue whi te liquid fire though they were mostly formed of Air. Each time a ball of light struck the
shield,  it  flared incandescent  in the colour of the  fireball. There was a slight pushing effect
from the attacks as well. If  the wielder was strong enough, they could still  send you  flying
backwards with such an assault.
If the weaver of the shield was strong enough, they could deflect a herd of charging
bulls if they wanted to however. Such shields were vital to staying alive when facing a horde
of demons in a frontal attack.
Shields  that  surrounded  the  entire  body  were  harder  to  teach  however,  the  weaves
more complex. She allowed Lauren  to  instruct  Hayley with  those, and they  were about to
start practicing the weaves when Del stuck his head inside the tent to repor t, ―Rebel Alit‘aren
have returned for peace talks. There is only a few of them, but King Tobin has instructed us
not to attempt capture.‖  His  green  eyes appeared  filled with caution  when  he  gazed at  the
faces of the women in the tent.
The poor boy must feel like a rabbit with his foot in a snare, Tanriel sent through the
kigare. Jean reached for her emerald bow that lay flat on the brightly carpeted floor.
They  will  all  feel  that  way,  before  too  long,  Jean  sent  to  Tanriel,  her  connection
increasing when she  held the bow.
―They have requested to speak with Jean Fairsythe,‖ Del said hesitantly.
―They wish the declaration to be revoked, by order of the White Snow Fox.‖
―There  is no chance of that  happening,‖  Terese said to the  lad, who  looked as  if  he
had been   stepped on.
―They say,  if agreements cannot be reached,‖ Del continued, with  more confidence,
―or if these messengers do not return to them, it will be a declaration of  war!”  The last word
came out as a nervous croak.
―Let‘s go and see if we can stop a war then,‖ Jean said as she began to stride towards
the tent door. Del frowned at her with concern in his emerald eyes before he stepped back to
allow her passage. When she was striding alongside the boy with Guardians flanking them,
she turned back to see  Terese, Hayley, and the tide of other women following with worried
faces. 
Chapter
19
To Avoid Destruction
Adem hurried from his tent and made his way towards the meeting area where the messenger
Alit‘aren were waiting. Guardians flanked him, and Carl  strode beside him with his spear in
hand.  The  gathering  was  within  the  Alit‘aren  camp,  surrounded  by  Guardians,  Devoted,
Gai‘den,  and  remaining  Alit‘aren  who  were  loyal  to  King  Tobin.  Ael  Tarael  and  female
wielders with Lukrorian Bows also guarded the seve n men who stood proudly in their dark
uniforms.
Rodriel  Tarz  was amongst them, standing with the  command of a  leader;  his arms
crossed over his chest with the Odin Sons sigils on his collar. Only two others were actually
full  Alit‘aren,  another two  were  Gai‘den, and  the  last two  were  Devoted  looking  no older
than sixteen.
They were a humble emissary to send for this meeting after the deaths of so many Ael
Tarael, as well as soldiers and Guardians who had tried to stop the rebellion. Adem suspected
that Tarz wished to appease them with the innocent faces of young men who were sentenced
to an early death. If the Alit‘aren could not hold the Power, the slowing effect to their aging
would cease, and they would only live a little longer than most mortals. Youngsters like these
two, Sedir and Calmus, would be lucky to live to eighty if they were severed from  teron  at
this age.
That was cutting their potential life spans down to less than a sixth. Tarz made these
same  points  as  an  appeal  to  Jean  to  destroy  the  de clarations  and  allow  the  Alit‘aren  to
continue using the Power.
―I speak for the entire clan when I say we wish to make peace, Daughter of Thor. We
wish to end this so that order can be restored and protection provided.‖
―Was it protection of our people that saw to the murder of over thirty fully raised Ael
Tarael?‖ Jean asked. ―Would you have us forgive these crimes and accept you back into our
army, only to watch  you all continue to  wield until  the taint  has driven you all beyond the
brink of sanity?‖
Adem stood a  few paces to the side of Jean and  Terese. Carl stood beside  him and
Hayley, and Wil stood a pace behind. They could all hear the conversation clearly however as
the clearing  was otherwise silent. Adem  had wanted to speak with Tarz alone, though  Jean
would  not allow  it, and their appeal  was addressed to  the White Snow Fox, not one of the
Sons of Odin. 
―Carl Wilder‘s declaration will  ruin our chances of  victory over the Shadow,‖ Tarz
stated in his deep tones. The man was nearly a head height taller   than Adem, wide shoulders
and dark hair and eyes. His black moustache was thick like two downward - curving horns. He
was tanned skinned and muscular, an immortal of the Torvellen clan.
Adem wondered what Torin had learnt so far, his former trainer was his   inside man
amongst  this  Alit‘aren  rebellion.  In  truth,  Adem  had  started  the  rebellion,  by  informing  a
number of  Alit‘aren and  Gai‘den of Carl‘s  new declaration to outlaw  male  wielding.  He‘d
sent the word out immediately after Carl stated the order. His mind flashed back to his words
to Torin when lightning filled the sky and thunder roared.
― Go with them, Torin. Find out their plans and report back to me,”  he‘d said to his
immortal friend. ―You will be my eyes and ears, and you may provide hope of me reun iting
with the rebels when the time is critical.‖
The sky appeared to be on fire as more blue bolts had flared in the distance. Torin had
promised he would send coded messages to Adem about the movements of the rebel Alit‘aren
army, sealed with his ancient signet.
He would require a trustworthy man to be his messenger and another one who could
play both sides.
His mind returned to the present as Jean replied, ―To avoid destruction, we must make
a declaration of peace, that much is agreed upon. Though, the terms of the agreement shall
take time. Until then, you are free to come and go as you wish, sending messengers to discuss
these terms in full.
―However, I stand by Carl Wilder‘s declaration, male wielding must remain outlawed,
and  the punishment  shall  also  stand.  Those  that continue  to disobey these  commands shall
meet their dues.
―The Alit‘aren were once known as the Hammer of the Light, serving and protecting
Kismeria from the terrors of the demon armies. From this day forward, the rebel army shall
be known as the Forsaken.
―For if they wish to continue to touch the taint on  teron, there shall be no ending to
the chaos we will surely endure. I wish to be rational with you, Rodriel Tarz, as I know you
would have high command amongst the rebels, but I  cannot revoke the new laws proclaimed
by the Immortal Kings.
―Messengers  have already been  sent to every corner of the Free Lands on  altherin
horses; they left last night after your disgraceful acts. Word will have reached many nations
already, and you would have little hope of stopping any of them now that they‘ve had such a
head  start.  Those  messengers  will  ride  their  horses  into  the  ground  to  spread  word  to  the
distant keeps and holds.
―Everyone will know of the new laws, and those Alit‘aren that choose  to rebel will no
doubt fall into your hands. This presents the problem of two great armies inevitably facing off
against one another.
―This  is as  great a concern  to  me as  it  would be  if I allowed  the declaration  to be
revoked. I see your heart in this ca use, Rodriel. I know you are still a good man with good
intentions.  Though,  I  also  see  that  dark  burning  in  your  gaze  that  is  more  than  just  your
temper brewing.  
―The Sickness is something we cannot predict. How can we trust men who may one
day slay thousands in the blink of an eye? The risk is too great, you must see that.‖
That burning dark- eyed gaze regarded Jean for some time before the man said, ―I‘m
sorry we could not reach amiable terms this day, Jean Fairsythe. You hold the power to end
this  war,  though  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  has  already  begun.  We  will  continue  to  hold  teron
everyday to preserve our life force.
―We will continue to train our Gai‘den and Devoted to wield against our enemies. We
will continue to oppose this new law, and anyone who tries to uphold it, and we shall form
our own kingdom where our own laws are governed.‖
―Then  you  will  be  hunted  down  and  destroyed,‖  Jean  said  coldly,  though  Adem
sensed  her  nervousness. She  had changed so  much  since she entered the  Arch. She was a
strong - willed woman before that, now she was hard as stone.
Tarz grunted and gave a tilt to his head, his eyes regarding her as if she were a white
wolf. He then turned to leave when Adem ran up to him and began to follow as the emissaries
departed through the cro wd. He strode to keep pace with the other man, choosing his words
carefully before he asked,
―Where will you set up this new kingdom?‖
―We have not decided yet,‖ Tarz replied in a displeased tone. ―Far from Nordhel, that
much is certain. Perhaps the Green  Border nations will accept us, or we may be pushed as far
south as the vampire cursed lands.
―Wherever we go, we will send emissaries to every nation to gather those who choose
to rebel against Carl Wilder‘s decree.  The Alit‘aren will be  needed when the  Sons of Odin
face the Dark One,  in  future battles and  in  the Great  Battle. If we allow our knowledge to
dwindle over the next thousand years, there is no hope of victory.‖
―I  agree  with  you,  Rodriel,‖  Adem  said,  ―I  will  need  every  male  wielder  I  can
summon   if my plan is to work.‖
―And what is your plan?‖
―To imprison the Dark One in Kerak‘Otozi, seal him within his Resting Point that will
hopefully  hold  him  until  the end of  the  Age of Chaos,  when we shall return  for the  Great
Battle.‖
―The Shadow will  gather a great army of demons to try to stop you  from achieving
this aim,‖ Tarz remarked musingly.
―That  is exactly  the reason  why I agree with  you,  Tarz. I  will  require all of  you to
fight by my side!‖ he whispered the last anxiously, looking around to see if  any Ael Tarael
were  following.  ―We can‘t allow  this war between Ael  Tarael and  Alit‘aren.  Think of  the
lives of the young male wielders who will fight against your rebellion. They will hold to their
oath to not touch teron, and they will face you in battle armed only with swords!
―It will be a massacre if you choose to use the Power against them. Either way we will
be cutting our forces in half. Thousands will die, perhaps tens of thousands. We must work
together to ensure the Wars of Chaos do not occur. J ean‘s words were simple truth; ‗to avoid
destruction‘ we must Heal this rift.‖
―You wish to avoid destruction?‖  Tarz asked with a snort.  ―Without  male wielders,
this entire world shall fall into ruin. The Dark Armies will destroy us all!‖ 
―Then  follow  my commands, as I am the only one of the Chosen who still sees the
Light  in  your cause.  Gather all  those who oppose  the decree,  set  up base somewhere that
Tobin‘s armies will be reluctant to attack. Wait for my summons, Rodriel Tarz, and you shall
lead the rebel Alit‘aren into redemption.‖
The man rubbed his square chin for a time, still taking long strides, before he stopped
to turn to Adem and offer his hand as he said, ―My clan will remain loyal to the Blue Water
Dragon. If you can prove yourself to be this   man before your plan evolves, I will command
them to follow you.‖
Tarz was amongst those who had heard Carl name Adem as the Blue Dragon on the
day they set out from Nordhel. The Prophecies said the Dragon would learn to fly, in the real
world,  along  with  other  miracles  to  prove  he  was  the  leader  of  the  Saviours.  Those
Prophecies  also  stated  that  the  Dragon  would  not  achieve  this  feat  by  becoming  a
Nightwalker, which was the only way Adem was sure he could achieve it. ―I hope that day
comes to  fruition,‖  Tarz said with an  honest  look to  his eyes,  after Adem shook  his  hand.
Then the man scowled and moved off with his dark- coated followers.
Later,  in  his tent, Adem sat  in a  large armchair,  rubbing  his temples  while Carl sat
dictating scripture to the scholar s and scribes.  There were  four of them  today, two of each.
The two scholars were the almost identical, secretary- looking immortals, who turned up for
every sitting.
The  two  men  were  a  bane  to  Carl‘s  existence,  with  their  constant  questions  and
bickering  with  him  over  details,  such  as  the  number  of  eyewitnesses  to  each  accounted
miracle.
Adem understood this about the scholars though he was one who could appreciate the
meaning and value of a True Witness.
The subject  was doubtful with Carl  however, who only ever saw the  importance of
faith based on ancient eyewitness accounts recited to second and third - hand witnesses. Adem
knew that in a way, Carl resented being an eyewitness to supernatural phenomenon; it made
him feel that he needed purification from the sin of being witness to the afterlife.
Danil Mardel was one of the two scholars; his spiked hair and moustache were grey
tinged,  while  Aldin  Foebius,  the  other,  had  dark  hair.  Both  often  dressed  similarly  to
Alit‘aren  in  black  coats  and  trousers,  though  most  often  with  the  Lion  Rohjor  sigil
embroidered on their chests to mark them as servants to King Tobin.
The  two  mortal  scribes  were  not so  regular, and Carl appeared displeased with  the
way he often had to repeat  himself  while dictating. His  mood  was ca lm  though,  from what
Adem could sense. Those two wore brown- hooded robes similar to monks.
One surprising change was that all four of the men had started wearing the Holy Cross
somewhere on their bodies. Aldin  wore a brown beaded  wrist band with a chunky  wooden
cross marked with the symbol of a fish, the ancient sign for followers of Christ.
Danil wore a silver cross upon the right side of his high collar, in similar fashion to
the  Rohjor  sigils  most  Alit‘aren  wore.  The  scribes  wore  heavy  silver  chains  wi th  silver
crosses almost the size of a hand hanging down their chests. As Adem understood it, the base
of those larger crosses was a silver dagger encased in another silver cast.
Silver  was  a  strong  weapon  against  vampires,  though  these  men  were  starting  to
believe that the Holy Cross would also hold power over Nightwalkers. 
Adem  had  chosen  to  stay  and  listen  to  Carl‘s  recitals  of  Bible  passages,  as  Adem
didn‘t  actually  know  the  Bible  stories  all  that  well.  He  knew  of  Christ,  the  Exodus  and
Genesis, as he  had studied religion at school. Adem felt that he needed to learn more of these
stories, to preserve his soul. Of course, a madman who knows the stories of the Bible is still
mad, and an evil man is potentially much worse.
Perhaps  even  the  Holy  Scripture  couldn‘t  save  him  from  the  taint.  He  found  the
listening to be soothing however.
Carl was reciting  the stories of Jesus, and  when  he  got to  the part when  Jesus  was
about to heal  some  men that were stricken with  leprosy, Adem  exclaimed,  ―Jesus will save
the m!‖
He smiled after that as the two scholars turned to him with disgusted expressions as
Aldin remarked, ―Oh, thank you indeed, Adem Highlander, for giving away the ending of a
perfectly good story.‖
―Not just a story,‖ Adem said waving a lecturing finger  at the man, ―a true account of
a genuine sign  from God.‖ Carl smiled at that too;  he  liked  it when  Adem proclaimed  the
miracles that required faith.
―Perhaps you would like to tell the rest of this story, Adem,‖ his friend said.
Adem started to chuckle a s he said, ―No no, you‘re the expert, Carl. I don‘t want to
make any errors.‖
Carl then continued with the story as Adem sat back to think on his conversation with
Tarz.  The  man  had  basically  guaranteed  he  would  follow  his  orders  if  Adem  was  able  to
prove  he was the Blue Water Dragon. This concerned him though, if Carl or Wil turned out to
be the Dragon, they would probably try to defeat Tarz and the rebels.
His other concern was the fact that Tarz did not deny he would use the Power against
Tobin‘s  army,  perhaps  even  slaughtering  the  Alit‘aren  that  had  remained  loyal  to  the
Saviours. He began to think of how that could be avoided when he asked Carl, ―What if the
Alit‘aren only used the Power to block frontal attacks during combat? Air requires less of the
Power, so the risk of the taint would be lowered, and the Alit‘aren could increase their skills
with the sword to become a legion of blades, buffered by shields formed from teron.‖
He saw that that idea could work even if the loyalist Alit‘aren were forced to fight the
rebels.  A  legion of  linked wielders creating walls of Air could  slice through  those barriers
from  the  other  side  with  their  blades.  If  the  shields  could  withstand  fire  and  lightning,
Blademasters could cut down any enemy.
Carl  considered  it  for  a  time  before  he  said,  ―They  will  still  turn  mad,  eventually.
Perhaps this will create a necessary balance though. I see now that things have gotten too out
of hand, with the rebel army and the divisions that are forming.
―I  will agree to allow our  own wielders to weave Air once a week to  increase their
abilities  at  forming  shields.  Sword  practice  is  first  and  foremost  for  them  now,  though  I
concede that we may need to allow this variation of the decree for our defences to hold any
sort of chance.
― It  would  be  horrible  to  see  thousands  of  male  wielders  massacred  because  we
wouldn‘t allow them to defend themselves with the Power.
―I agree, Adem. You may spread the word.‖  
Adem  grinned so broadly  his dimples  must be showing.  ―Thank  you, Carl.  I won‘t
f orget this.‖
He  then  stood  to  gather  his  sword  belt  and  blade  in  its  dragon  scrawled  scabbard.
Moments later, he was hurrying from the tent and strolling through the camp with Guardians
at his side. It was starting to get dark though the air was humid.
He saw a gathering of Gai‘den beside a fire with a spitted roast boar sizzling over the
flames. The aroma made his mouth water, and he decided that was the place to be. Already
servants were cutting slices off the roast and passing platefuls to a long servi ng table where
Ael Tarael, Alit‘aren, and soldiers were gathering.
Freshly baked breads and whole cheese wheels also covered the white clothed table,
and  Adem  was  soon  helping  himself  to  a  pork  sandwich  with  a  slice  of  cheese  that  was
identical to Swiss.  He carried the large meal in both hands as he moved to sit on the fallen
tree beside two of the Gai‘den. He knew these mortal boys better than he knew the immortal
Alit‘aren nearby, so he explained the news to the youngsters. A look of hope burnt in their
eyes at his words; they would be allowed to touch teron  once a week, and they would be able
to weave shields to protect themselves while they fought with the sword.
Not all  full  Alit‘aren  were  Blademasters, especially amongst the  mortals, as before
now th e Power had been the only weapon they needed. Yet even a Blademaster was helpless
against  wielders  unless they  had adequate defences. Del was one of the boys, sandy  haired
and green eyed. Ron was the other, dark of eyes with blonde hair that appeared almos t white.
―You  have saved  us,  Adem Highlander!‖ Del said excitedly.  ―Now we can  live  for
hundreds of years with  teron  preserving our  flesh. The  men  will be very happy to hear the
news.‖
He  then  began  to  move  off  through  the  crowds,  stopping  to  speak  to  eve ry  male
wielder  he  saw.  Adem  watched  as  word  spread  like  wildfire;  suddenly,  there  was  a  new
burning in their eyes, not the taint, but the light that spoke of the wonder of feeling  teron  in
your heart and soul.
They were beginning to  touch the Power too,  first a small  few who couldn‘t  resist,
though others  must  have been delaying  until they could  no  longer bare being  without  the
ecstasy of teron. If they touched it now, they could not do so again for another week.
Dozens  of  them  began  to  hold  it  though,  s mall  flows  and  simple  weaves  of  Air
designed  to  form  shields,  creating  a  murmur  amongst  the  male  wielders  who  still  hadn‘t
heard the news. They had to know something was up, but they were loyal to each other first
and  foremost  it  seemed,  so  none  were  named  for  holding  the  Power,  while  the  female
wielders were oblivious to the charging of energy that was lighting up around them.
Adem smiled again before he took another large bite of his sandwich and sat chewing
with a contented heart.
It will still all end in disaster, he thought to himself.
Arawn sent through the kigare: Maybe, but you were right to save them from an early
death. There will be further need for the Alit’aren in the battles we will face.
None of them could have resisted the desire to wield  for long. If he hadn‘t been able
to convince Carl, every  loyal  male  wielder would  have ended  up trialled and severed  from
teron  forever. A few years was the expected life span of anyone who suffered such a fate. It
then occurred to Adem that perhaps being  banned from wielding for the same amount of time
may have resulted in the same effect.
Again he considered that longing he saw in the eyes of the immortal kings. Were they
in danger of death if they continued to deny themselves even a trickle of the Power ? He then
realised he‘d better  go and discuss that with them,  in case  it hadn‘t crossed anyone‘s  mind
yet. In  most cases, once someone  learnt  to wield, they reached  for  the Power at  least once
every day. The effects of resisting that gift could be as conse quential as being cut from it.
He didn‘t want to waste the sandwich, so he took it and the plate, on his way towards
Orion‘s tent. His two Guardians had been snacking close by and they quickly followed. One
of the men, Suhl Trendin, leaned to his ear to w hisper, ―I sense a lot of male wielders holding
the Power, Adem Highlander. Shouldn‘t you do something about this?‖
Adem realised  he  had started off with such  vigour  he‘d  forgotten to report the  new
declaration to his bodyguards.
―It‘s  all  right, Suhl,‖  Adem  replied.  ―There‘s a  new decree.  You  may reach  for  the
Power once a week, not for more than one hour, and you may only form the weaves to create
shields of Air. I know you mustn‘t be strong with such weaves, but perhaps in time, you will
be able to defe nd yourself better.‖
―I can form a shield to protect me from steel or fire,‖ Suhl said which was unusual for
a Guardian as  most were very weak  in  the Power. Most could only wield enough to create
Fire with their enchanted bows.
―You must be appointed trainer to other Guardians so that they too can learn,‖ Adem
said as he clasped the man on the shoulder. The dark - eyed man wore a black coat and blue
breastplate with a green- and- gold wooden bow sticking up above his right shoulder. Taking
away their  Lukrorian  Bows  had devastated the  techniques that  had  served these people  for
hundreds of thousands of  years. Fortunately,  there were enough  female wielders to  fill that
void in their defences.
***
Orion  stood  over  a  large  map  rolled  out  across  his  desk  and  held  down  by  golden  eagle
weights. Tobin stood next to him as they examined the lands surrounding Charkel, planning
the  movements of scouts. Red  figurines  from a set of  mohrthra’daeghal  marked the places
where revolution was still rife.
Blue figurines marked the holds and keeps that were said to be loyal to the immortal
kings. Carl Wilder‘s decree would help to stem the spread of revolution; at least, they hoped
it would.
Messengers were already returning  from  nearby kingdoms after delivering word of
the  declaration  to  banish  male  wielders  from  using  the  Power.  A  Guardian  from  Carl
Wilder‘s  tent  had  already  reported  the  alterations  to  that  decree,  which  meant  that  loyal
wielders  would  be  allowed  to  weave  Air  to  defend  themselves  in  swordfights.  Orion  was
relieved to hear the news as he had feared his loyal Alit‘aren would have been sent to their
deaths if they were to face the rebels without such defences. 
Lydia  and  Elmira  sat  on  cushioned  sofas  within  the  same  large  tent,  both  of  them
whispering about Adem and J ean. Terese had reported the secret meetings of the two lovers
to Elmira in a coded letter. The relationship between the Dragon and the Fox didn‘t concern
Orion; he thought it was an untold part of the Prophecies. Adem and Jean would need each
other to sur vive, just as Orion needed Elmira to breathe.
Tobin  was pointing to the  figurines placed over the regions surrounding Tentor and
Corsair, when  Adem entered the tent with a peculiar smile  to his eyes. He  must  have been
gloating over  the changes  to the decree.  ―You  have something to discuss  with  us?‖ Orion
asked.
Adem  moved  to  stand  with  his  arms  crossed  over  his  chest  as  he  said,  ―I  have  a
theory. I‘m concerned that both you and Tobin may be denying yourselves precious life force
if you continue to resist wi elding teron.‖
―Why do you say that?‖
―My theory is that going for years without touching the Power could be as detrimental
as being permanently severed from it. My concern is that this might result in an early death,
even for immortals. I see the strain in your eyes as you yearn to feel teron. This may be even
more fatal than the taint. Has any wielder ever resisted the Power for a long period of time
voluntarily?‖
―There  has  never been any reason  to research such effects,‖  Tobin replied  gruffly.
―Though,  perhaps you are right. Lately I have felt, not myself. I stress more and sleep less.
The taint could be the problem though I have not touched  teron  since the First Arrival, so it
seems more likely your theory is to blame.‖
Orion said, ―I agree. We should act in accordance with the alterations, wielding once
a  week  and  only  with  Air  for  our  protection.  This  should  preserve  our  life  forces.  I  have
longed for this.‖
He then opened himself to the Power.  Teron  flooded him with light and shadows, joy
and  despair.  Before  the  Power  was  tainted,  it  had  been  a  wellspring  of  ecstasy,  now  that
feeling  was  melded  with  a  dark  plague.  He  wanted  to  weep  with  relief  at  the  flood  of
emotions that surged through him, though he kept his face calm.
Tobin embraced  teron  a moment  later, the two of them matching one another, though
they only  held a portion of  their potential. Surprisingly,  Adem didn‘t open  himself  to  the
Power. He simply smiled and tilted his head to one side as he asked, ―Now, isn‘t that better?‖
―Will things be better when our husbands have lost their minds?‖ Elmira asked with a
raised brow.
―Would  you  rather risk them dying before  the  Great  Battle?‖ Adem asked  without
turning to face the women. Elmira sniffed and Lydia glared as if she despised Adem.
―It is necessary, my love,‖ Tobin said to his wife. ―Do not blame the Sons of Odin for
what has always been our fate. They shall redeem themselves in the Light.‖
―He  had better do exactly  that,‖  Lydia replied, ―or  his  fate shall be the same as the
rebels.‖  That  last  comment  seemed  to  strike  a  nerve  with  Adem,  who  suddenly  looked
pained, his gaze inward.
―Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Adem Highlander,‖ Elmira said finally.
―Now if you would excuse us, we are about to sit for supper.‖ 
―You are welcome to  join  us,‖ Orion remarked,  which earned  him a  warning stare
from his wife before he added, ―and we can discuss the problem of the rebels.‖
―I have already eaten, thank you,‖ Adem said, his gaze returned to focus, and then he
turned and marched from the tent. That response roused Orion‘s suspicions; he knew Adem
had  spoken  with  the  rebel  emissaries  today;  he  also  believed  Adem  had  played  a  part  in
starting the rebellion. What was he planning behind that secretive smirk?
Chapter
20
A Place of Refuge
It took a further seven days for the first letter from Torin to arrive. The messenger was one of
the youngsters who arrived amongst the emissaries who were free to visit the camp. Twelve
men formed their party this time, four Alit‘aren, four Gai‘den, and four  were Devoted.
Rohan Miredis was the lad‘s name, a boy of sixteen with apple- green eyes and spiked
red  hair,  fair  skinned  with  freckled  cheeks.  The  seal  was  not  damaged,  nor  did  it  appear
tampered with; Torin had no doubt also cautioned Rohan about the imp ortance of discretion.
He  glanced  up at the boy‘s eyes  more than once during  the time  Rohan stood with
arms at his sides, while Adem read over the letter. There was a sign of the Sickness in those
young  eyes,  the  taint  working  its  evil  within  his  mind.  How  long  would  Rohan  resist  the
effects? How long would any of them last?
Adem coughed and folded the letter as the boy‘s eyes took on an inward gaze.
Hearing voices, most likely, Adem thought to himself.
Perhaps it would be wise to start killing them off before they become a danger, Arawn
replied.
Adem‘s own eyes must have appeared inward while he listened to his Battle Angel.
He wasn‘t sure if that comment was intended as a joke or not.
―Thank you, young Rohan,‖ Adem said finally. ―You may return to your  party.‖ The
boy  nodded, which  was an  indication of a bow, before  he  turned to  leave the tent. Adem
unfolded the letter and looked over the coded message again, working the cipher through in
his mind. It simply said,
We’ve camped north of the rising stars. We seek a place to form a foothold.
The grey bear rules the den, though the red wolf holds influence. 
There is unrest in this region, we’ll likely push southeast or west.
Morale is low amongst the men. There is a need for a strong leader.
There was no s ignature, though the seal was Torin‘s signet, the symbol of his ancient
royal House. The  ‗red wolf‘  referred to  Tarz, the ‗grey bear‘  was  Brolen  Aeldur, a Nordic
Alit‘aren over eight  hundred  years old.  The ‗unrest‘  would  refer to revolutionaries  making
life uneasy for the rebel Alit‘aren invading their lands.
The ‗need for a strong leader‘ was aimed directly at Adem though. Torin would see
Adem‘s leadership as the only hope for the rebels. There was little else to the code except the
reference to seeking a  ‗foothold‘  which  meant  there  was still  no decision as  to where they
would build a place of refuge.
North of the ‗rising stars‘ put them close to the Mithrim Mountains on the border of
Corsair.  The  mountains would provide a temporary  foothold, though  the  people of Corsair
would consider the invasion an act of war. It was unlikely they would engage in battle against
thousands of potentially mad wielders however.
Though,  the  rebels‘  movements  would  be  watched  by  a  considerable  force  in  that
region. Torin‘s  lack of detail about where they planned to move was also disturbing. Adem
needed to know where to find this army of wielders when his need was great. The man would
surely provide that information once they found a definite safe haven.
The main reason emissaries were still sent to the camp was to gather women loyal to
the  rebels,  wives,  mistresses,  servant  women,  any  who  would  leave  Tobin‘s  camp  to  join
those that were now called the Forsaken. Many did go too; they must have seen an army of
male wielders as  a necessary danger for these lands and these times. Adem realised the rebels
must be planning to build their own nation, breeding wielders who lived apart from the new
laws.
Over fifty women left with the emissary on the day the first letter was delivered , and
the  following  week,  another  hundred  and  fifty  left.  According  to  Rohan,  they  were  also
gathering  up women  from the villages and farms they passed through, as well as recruiting
men to become soldiers in their army.
The rebels also sent out their own  declaration, offering sanctuary to any male wielder
who  did  not  wish  to  comply  with  the  new  laws  that  tried  to  ban  them  from  touching  the
Power. The alteration to that decree didn‘t entice  the rebels  to  form a truce however.  They
seemed hesitant to trust in such a law that restricted them from wielding any more than once
a week. They also didn‘t like the idea of only being allowed to wield Air.
―Alit‘aren are  weapons  forged  for destruction,‖  Tarz remarked when  Adem  tried to
make the man see reason. ―Shields  make adequate defences for soldiers, but if we aren‘t able
to form walls of Fire and Earth, we lose the crux of our abilities.‖
The following week, Adem received a letter from Torin that explained in code that the
rebel  army was on  the  move  again. This  time  headed  west between Mendora and  Tentor.
There was no mistaking their destination, the Kingarin Forest, where they would attempt to
recruit Dremelden Immortals.
Perhaps they also intended to make a plea to the Dremelden King. If one of the four
immortal  kings did  not agree with  the banishment on  male  wielding,  it  would  increase the
size of the rebel army. Immortal Guardians, Wood Kin, Archers, as well as Alit‘aren would
join the Forsaken army, swelling  their  forces  until  they potentially outmatched  the  loyalist
armies.  Soldiers  and  Blademasters  were  effective  for  winning  wars  of  steel,  though  they
would be swept aside like driftwood in rapids against an army of wielders.
Adem discussed this threat with Carl many times as he waited for further news from
Torin. He hadn‘t told anyone of Torin‘s letters, or that Torin was his inside man within the
rebel army. He could not even trust Carl with this secret, for it could cost Torin his life if he
was  named a  traitor. Surely, there  were  those  within  the  rebel  army  who knew of  Torin‘s
writings  to  Adem,  though  none  of  the  seals  were  broken  so  far,  and  Rohan  seemed
trustworthy, so he trusted that no one knew what information was contained in those letters.
Most  of  the  information  Torin  had  provided  was  available  from  scout  reports  and
letters sent from officials in Corsair, Tentor, and Mendora. They detailed the movements of
the rebel army and predicted their intended destination.
―We need to send ambassadors to make continued peace talks with the rebels,‖ Adem
would say to his friend, to which Carl would always reply, ―We‘ve tried that already, Adem.
Jean gave them their ultimatum, and they would not comply with those terms. We‘ve altered
those terms and offered them sanctuary if they comply, and they have refused that   offer also.
I  say  let  them  go  their  own  way,  seeking  refuge  in  lands  that  will  surely  deny  them  safe
haven,  until they are pushed as  far as the Southlands, where they will  have to  watch their
backs every moment in fear of vampires falling out of the skies.‖
―That  hardly  seems  a  justified  place  for  men  who  once  held  such  honour  in  these
lands,‖ Adem replied, before Carl would say something like, ―Yes, but perhaps that dent to
their ego is what is required before they will see the error of their ways.
―We h ave amended the decree to allow all male wielders to continue to touch  teron
once  a  week,  wielding  Air  to  form  defences  as  they  continue  to  practice  becoming
Blademasters, their new station, and a place of high honour within our armies.
―Why can‘t they see the sense of this decision?‖
―I‘m  not  sure  if  it  sensible,‖  Adem  would  retort,  ―if  you  consider  the  value  of
thousands of male wielders versus the same amount of Blademasters, it‘s like replacing Fire
Lions for kittens!
―We need the Power to win this wa r. Steel will not defeat the Dark One.‖
Their arguments continued on  like that, sometimes  late  into the  night  without either
one relenting. Adem only wished Carl would see the sense of his argument, which was that
they could  not win  without  reuniting the  rebels  to their cause. He kept  his true  intentions
secret  however,  only  Tarz  and  Torin  knew  any  part  of  those  plans.  Otherwise,  everyone
thought he was loyal to Tobin and Orion, everyone except perhaps the two kings. They were
suspicious of  his  talks with  Tarz, and  they surely knew of Rohan acting as  messenger  for
someone  within  the  rebel  camp.  They  would  have  eyes  and  ears  surveying  Adem‘s
movements to try to learn more.
For this reason, he kept to his tent unless he was in training; he kept his conversations
to a minimum and did not discuss the rebels where there were others within earshot. He never
mentioned Torin‘s name in public, and he never spoke of forming alliances with any of the
rebels. He needed everyone to assume that he was focused on how to ac hieve victory without
the Alit‘aren.  Tobin and Orion also wanted  him  to  meet with them each  night to discuss a
method of dealing  with  the rebels, though  he always declined to attend. He couldn‘t allow
Tobin‘s army to engage the Alit‘aren in open warfare. T he casualties on both sides would be
extensive, including the possibility of starting wars across the Free Lands.
The  Alit‘aren  could  respond  by  tearing  down  city  walls  and  burning  thousands  in
giant bonfires. They may try this before they were turned to e vil or madness, simply to make
the point that they were vexed over being opposed by armies led by Ael Tarael.
In his spare hours, he sat and meditated on how to deal with these problems though
the solution continued to evade him.
The  following  week  Tobin‘s  army  was  on  the  move  again,  heading  southwest  for
Corsair,  those  lands  still  filled  with  volatile  revolutionaries.  Lady  Elise  Caravine  was
desperate to  reach  Auglem Watch, to speak with  the  lords and  ladies  there  to try to  make
peace with the farmer armies that had started the uprising. It was the second week of summer
when they crossed over into the borders of Corsair, where they met with a small portion of
the  farmer army, some six  thousand  men,  mostly  farmers armed  with spears or pitchforks
though many also wore swords at their hips.
A man in rusted armour with a grey beard greeted Tobin and Orion, with Adem riding
at their side. His name was Tobroel Munjayer, a mortal, made captain of this smaller force
that guarded the northern border of the province.
―I do  not wish to  make war with you, King Tobin,‖ the  man said, ―though I cannot
allow you passage within our borders.‖
―We come to  make peace,‖ Orion said to the captain,  ―and to restore order to  these
lands.‖
―My  orders  come  from  the  new  ruler  of  Corsai r,‖  Tobroel  explained.  ―He  says  to
allow none of the immortal kind, nor any of their male wielders within these boundaries. You
have many Alit‘aren with you, I see.‖
―You are aware of the new laws that govern those loyal to us,‖ Tobin said. ―They are
restr icted in their wielding, decreasing the risk of infection by the taint.‖
―That may be so,‖ Tobroel replied. ―But I have my orders, and I cannot allow you to
pass.‖ The man held up a hand like a small wall, then crossed his arms over his breastplate.
Adem d iscussed their next move with the two kings in hushed whispers.
―We could  go around  them or  go through them,‖ Adem suggested,  to which  Tobin
answered,  ―We will request  to send emissaries to  speak with  this  new  ruler, to  try to  gain
passage for our army.‖
This  request  was  at  first  denied  by  the  captain,  though  the  presence  of  one  of  the
Chosen seemed to make the man uneasy, so Adem sent a messenger to bring Jean, Carl, and
Wil forward. The three of them arrived shortly after on their mounts with Terese and  Hayley
flanking them.
―What is your ruler‘s name?‖ Adem asked.
―Keljar,‖ Tobroel replied nervously. ―Chief Keljar El‘Koto.‖
―And would your chief refuse an audience with the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of
Thor?‖ Adem asked with a sly grin.
―Er, I ah . .  . I‘m not sure, my lord,‖ Tobroel said, dabbing at sweat forming on his
brow. ―I suppose he would be honoured to receive such an audience.‖ 
―So  you  will  grant  passage  for  the Chosen,  these  two kings and their  wives, and a
small host of bodyguards?‖ Adem asked.
―I‘ll  allow  it,‖  Tobroel  replied.  ―Though,  your  male  wielders  may  not  join  your
escort.‖
―I request to bring four Gai‘den and four Devoted; all mortals,‖ Adem said. ―As you
know  they  are  only  allowed  to  wield  Air  to  defend  themselves.  Alit‘aren  and  their
Apprentices are basically swordsmen these days.‖
The  dark- eyed  captain  whispered  to  his  First  Lieutenant  for  some  time  before  he
agreed to those terms. The lieutenant‘s name was Thal Agrem, a tall man in his forties, dark
hair and eyes with a silvered breastplate over a green woollen coat.
Thal  led their party to Auglem Watch. They were allowed to bring  four  Ael  Tarael
and eight Guardians as well as the eight male wielders. Terese and Hayley were also allowed
to join the party. Thal brought a dozen of   his own soldiers for escort, all in rusted armour or
leather jerkins sewn  with  metal discs    brown  leathers and  green coats and cloaks. Some
wore rusted helmets of steel or iron, each one different with eagle wings or bat wings at the
temples or face bars or chain mail at the back and sides.
Adem had chosen Del and Ron as two of the four Gai‘den to join the party. More than
once Adem was sure he caught Del making eyes at Jean! She seemed not to notice, or at least
she pretended not to. He tried to tell himself it was nothing to be jealous about.
They reached the walls of Auglem Watch after three days hard riding. They stopped
to make camp each night and ate dried beef, flat bread, and cheeses from their ration packs.
The  women  sat  on  their  blankets  and  talked  while  the  men  practiced  with  their  weapons,
usually  the  Sons  of  Odin  matched  against  the  Guardians  which  provided  a  show  for  the
Corsairan soldiers.
Auglem  Watch  was  fifty- feet- high  grey  stone  walls  with  the  Mithrim  Mountains
rising in the distance. Towers were spaced around the diamond- shaped structure where horns
sounded at their approach. The  light was  fading  when they  reached the palace steps  in  the
heart of the stronghold, where they entered to find high- stone walls hung with crimson - andgold banners and a gilded throne on a dais where the new ruler sat, wearing a golden crown
studded with emeralds and rubies.
Evidently, the former farmer had adequately financed himself after overthrowing the
rulers in the region. Apparently, there had been no batt le, the lords and ladies simply gave up
Auglem Watch and the ruling of Corsair to this tall man with blue- grey eyes. Keljar El‘Koto
would no doubt change his title from chief to king in the months that followed if the region
was not handed back to its rightful owners.
―Welcome, Sons of Odin, Daughter of Thor,‖ Keljar said when they stood before him.
―It is a great honour to have you in my presence.‖ The man wore bronzed armour under a red
cloak, a dark coat, leather trousers, and boots.
―We come to speak of  peace terms with the rulers of this region.‖ Orion began, before
Keljar cut him off saying, ―I make no address to you, immortal king, and I am the only ruler
of Corsair,  for the record.‖ He swelled with confidence. Adem  wondered at  his audacity of
refusing to acknowledge an immortal king‘s right to speak. 
―Where are the former rulers?‖ Adem asked, to which the man replied, ―They are kept
in a place of safety, where they are watched to ensure they do not attempt to reclaim  these
lands.‖
―You mean you have t hem imprisoned?‖ Jean asked.
―They are housed within the cells below the keep,‖ Keljar said after a deep sigh. ―A
ruler must be firm with his subjects if he wishes to retain order.‖
―They  gave  you  rule  of  these  lands  and  you  locked  them  away?‖  Terese  asked
incredulously.
Keljar waved a hand and yawned before he answered, ―I did not give you permission
to speak. Only the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor may address me. If you make this
mistake again, I shall have you beheaded.‖
―This is an outrage!‖ Terese snapped, to which Keljar replied, ―I warned you.‖ Then
he waved to soldiers standing behind the throne as he said, ―Guards, arrest that dark - haired
woman. Have her beheaded within the hour.‖
Adem  reached  for  his  sword  hilt  as  guards  stepped  to  move  around  Terese;  Jean
reached for her bow and drew an arrow of emerald flame pointed at the head of one of the
guards.
Wil was easing his golden axe out of his belt loop as Hayley drew an arrow of golden
flame from her bow. Carl stood with a straight back, t hough the crimson spear in his grasp
began to glow brightly.
―There are five Battle Angels between us, Keljar!‖ Adem shouted, his hand gripping
his still sheathed sword hilt. ―Tell your men to back off or we shall turn you all to ash.‖
Keljar laughed at that, a deep booming chuckle that seemed to fill the chamber. Adem
then noticed a touch of madness to those blue - grey eyes. After a long pause, the man said, ―I
wish no harm upon the Chosen. I simply cannot abide rudeness from those who should crawl
in my presence.‖
―This woman is Terese Silverblade, Hero of Will, released from the Harp of Souls and
the Shield of Fire!‖ Jean shouted proudly.
Keljar‘s eyes appeared to stare inward at these remarks, rubbing his golden beard for
a time before he said, ―My apol ogies, Lady Silverblade. I consider you worthy of addressing
me, though I would ask that you try to remain civil, or else my edict will be enforced.‖
The  man  was  surely  mad  with  power.  The  question  was,  could  he  wield?  Silence
stretched  for  a  time  until  Adem  spoke  up  saying,  ―Keljar  El‘Koto,  you  will  swear  your
service to the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. You will give up your ruling of these
lands and these people so that this region can be restored to order. Your  guards  will throw
down their arms and allow our army to invade . . .‖ His voice cut off as he suddenly felt a
shield of Air snap closed around him, cutting him off from the Power!
―I‘m shielded!‖ Jean cried. ―I cannot touch  terael!”
―So am I!‖ Wil shouted, as Hayley said, ―Me too!‖
The  kings and queens began to groan, evidently fighting to gain a grip on the Power.
They stood in a line, stiff as statues, fighting the bonds of Air that held them as surely as any
rope or chain. Then out of the doorways on either side of the throne room ste pped two men in
dark coats and trousers with knee- high brown boots.
Alit’aren!   Adem thought in surprise.  
Two more of the dark- coated men stepped out after, then two more, then another two,
until twenty of the mortal men stood surrounding either side of K eljar‘s throne. They were all
linked, that was how they were able to cut them all off from the Power and shield them while
Adem and his friends only held on to a trickle of teron or terael.
They hadn‘t suspected a trap, which was their mistake. If they had been holding more
of  the  Power  perhaps  even  all  twenty  of  these  men  couldn‘t  have  cut  them  off  from  the
Power.  Perhaps, he thought doubtfully. None of them could release their Battle Angels from
their Resting Points without at least a trickle of the Powe r. With the shield severing him from
teron, he was helpless.
Keljar  began  to  chuckle  again,  a  deep  booming  laughter  that  seemed  to  make  the
walls shake. His voice was being enhanced by the Power! But whether it was he who could
wield  or  it  was  a  trick  of  o ne  of  his  Alit‘aren,  Adem  could  not  sense.  He  felt  the  Power
resonating  from the one  who  held  the  lead  in the  Link, a dark - haired, dark- eyed  man with
wide shoulders and tanned skin.
The man held so much of  teron  he seemed to glow like the sun in the darkness of the
room. Finally Keljar said, ―You have attempted treason, the punishment for which is death!
You will be taken to the dungeons, where you shall await your trails and executions.‖ He then
waved to the dozens of soldiers who began to file out from t he side doors as he said, ―Take
them away.‖ Something hard struck the back of Adem‘s skull. Darkness . . .
***
Adem  crouched  in  his  dark  cell,  listening  to  the  drip  of  water  through  the  cracks  in  the
stonework  above.  He  wasn‘t  certain  how  long  he  had  bee n  imprisoned,  hours,  days;  time
moved differently when you were in darkness and pain. He had been severely beaten by the
guards who showed him to his cell while the Alit‘aren who held his shield watched over him
impassively.
Blood was caked on his brow from a wound that had opened up above his right eye
and his cheeks were bruised and his jaw fractured. They had broken his right arm also, which
hung  feebly  by  his  side.  If  he  didn‘t  receive  Healing  soon,  the  injury  would  never  Heal
completely.
He crouched  with  his back against the wall,  his  hands  tied behind  his back  with a
course rope, balanced on the tips of his toes with his heels raised. He focused his breathing
and attempted to find enough calm to meditate in the hope of finding a crack in the shield t hat
cut him off from the Power.  Teron   continued to evade him despite those attempts; he could
sense the Power, and he could almost see it in the darkness, but that light always slipped from
his grasp each time he reached out for it.
―Your attempts are  futile, Adem Highlander,‖ the red - haired Alit‘aren said. He  was
one of three wielders holding his shield. ―Each time you make the attempt to touch  teron, you
shall face the consequences.‖
Suddenly pain flooded his body and a thousand tiny needles of white hot  fire filling
his  mind and  flesh. He screamed  in agony;  he couldn‘t  have resisted  the urge to cry out  in
pain if he tried. His thoughts were scattered under that force of punishment.  
The  pain  continued,  and  he  screamed  again  and  again;  the  pain  seemed  to  last  an
eternity as he begged for the wielder to release him. In his mind, Adem heard an old familiar
voice, a  voice  that  made  his blood run cold;  he  wasn‘t sure  if the  voice was real or just a
memory, but the voice of the Dark One roared, ―YOU HAVE LOST, SON OF ODIN!‖
Run and hide like the White Snow Fox, when your enemies are too many.
Fight like the Black Shadow Wolf, when your enemy least expects.
Roar like the Red Fire Lion, when victory is in your grasp.
Fly like the Blue Water Dragon, when the Dark  One rises once more.
Ancient  Kismerian  Proverb  from  the  Translations  of  the  Karaedhal  Cycle ,  Author:  Talmairaine
Honshorin, Court Bard of the Nordic Kingdom, from the Age of Rebirth.
The End of the First Book of
the Sons of Odin.
Book Two
of the
Sons
of 
Odin
Druantia’s Curse
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 incide nts 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.
Prologue
To Stage a Rescue
Jothar Kelderath sat behind the large carved oa k desk within his tent, situated in the heart of
the  Ael  Tarael  camp  on  the  borders  of  Corsair.  He  looked  over  scout  reports  of  the
fortifications and soldier positions of the armies of the new Chief of Corsair, Keljar El‘Koto.
It was only the first morning after the night that the Saviours and the Immortal Kings
and Queens had arrived at Auglem Watch with a small host of bodyguards, including some
wielders, though some of those reports included eye witnesses to the chief sitting in his gilded
throne, with   the weapons of the Saviours positioned around his body, like ornamental relics.
The Guardians  who had  made those sightings—after scaling the  fortress walls  in the  night,
and peering  through  the  windows of the keep—insisted there could be  no  mistaking  those
weapons for any other than the property of Adem Highlander, Carl Wilder, Wil Martyr, and
Jean Fairsythe.
Those weapons housed the spirits of the Battle Angels who served the Sons of Odin
and the Daughter of Thor. They would never leave those weapons unguarded, and certainly
never  in  the  hands  of  this  madman  El‘Koto.  So,  Jothar‘s  worst  fears  were  confirmed,  the
Chosen  had become prisoners of this  mad chief.  That  the  man  was  mad there could be  no
doubt, even his soldiers admitted their chief was a rabid wolf that needed to be put out of its
misery. Any  man who would take the Chosen as prisoners, was  madness right down to his
boots!
He  crumpled  the  report  in  his  right  fist  as  he  shouted  for  his  First  Lieutenant  to,
―Enter!‖  Bordin  Crempler  entered  to  salute  w ith  a  straight  spine  as  Jothar  began  to  bark
orders at the  man. Crempler  was  slightly  taller  than  himself, a  fact  that  irked  Jothar  every
time  he stood  face to  face with the  man.  Today the  young  man wore a bright red silk coat
with white cuffs and golden b uttons, dark trousers and knee- high leather boots. His angular
shaved  face and dark eyes  gave  him the appearance of a  loyal  hound  with  his  thick down
curving moustache. ―Start moving the men into position!‖ Jothar shouted. ―Prepare to invade!
Take  that  border  riff  raff  hostage  and  keep  them  guarded  within  the  soldiers‘  camp!  Go!
Move it man! Now! That‘s an order!‖
The poor fellow twitched nervously at every command, still saluting furiously until he
exited with the look of a man who wished he‘d never joine d the legions. He always looked
that  way  when  Jothar  was  in  a  mood,  and  today  Jothar  was  so  outraged  he  felt  he  might
remove the head of the first man who slipped up in his presence.
No!—It  was  El‘Koto‘s  head  he  wanted  to  plant  on  the  end  of  a  spear,  to  p ut  on
display for all the peoples of Auglem Watch to admire as they cheered for joy at the death of
the mad usurper. Yes, he would make it just so, by sunset this day, he would make amends to
this  travesty.  He sat pondering  his  victory while waiting  for  those other  two.  Maldros and
Morthros were his least favourite of allies, though he needed their expertise now more than
ever. If they began to bicker  in  his presence he just  might  start by taking off either one of
their  heads.  He smiled at the thought of  it, a wicked  grin . . . when suddenly  the two  men
came bustling  in through the  tent  flaps  in their  armour and cloaks.  Maldros  wore  silvered
armour over a coat with puffy sleeves of blue- and- red stripes, his cloak also blood red, while
Morthros wore a dark  green coat and cloak  with bronzed  armour embossed  with charging
rams.
The two men looked at one another as if they had been arguing the entire way to his
tent.  Both  appeared  quite  stricken  with  grief  over  the  current  situation  also.  To  Jothar‘s
shock,  both  men  offered  him  salutes!  So,  they  were  deferring  to  his  leadership  at  this
juncture. He would remind them both of that whenever they strayed in the future.
The scouts had been sent to follow the Saviours on their three day journey to Auglem
Watch. Jothar  had sent them as a precaution. Their  altherin  bred horses had made the same
journey  back  to  camp  in  a  matter  of  hours,  though  he  didn‘t  wish  to  see  the  state  of  the
animals after being pushed so  hard. It would take a  further six days  for the entire army to
reach the fortified walls, so his only option was to send a small army of wielders on  altherin
horses  with  a  substantial  guard  to  protect  them  while  a  rescue  team  of  Guardians  and
Alit‘aren try to infiltrate the keep.
They would reach the walls of Auglem Watch by midday if they allowed the horses to
rest for part of the journey. His plan was to arrive in half that time, as they could not waste a
single  moment. A second wave of soldiers and  wielders  would arrive by the afternoon to
secure the region  in case  El‘Koto‘s armies tried to retake the capital. The rest of the camp
would  make  the  journey  towards  Auglem  Watch,  where  they  would  hold  the  region  until
order was restored.
―We await your orders, Jothar.‖ Maldros said.
―The orders have already been given.‖  Jothar replied. ―The fate of Kismeria rests on
our shoulders, gentlemen. If we fail in this task, all is lost.‖
―We have heard your plan of attack, Captain Jothar,‖ Morthros said with a twitching
of his moustache, ―but we see some risks there. What if this El‘Koto decides to murder the
Sons and Daughter before we can reach them?‖
―That is precisely why we must move now!‖ Jothar barked in irritation. So, it seemed
they  were  not  going  to  let  the  day  pass  without  judging  his  every  decision  as  appointed
leader! He was hardly surprised at this, though it caused his rage to bubble and stew, like a
hot pot over open flames.
―But surely there is still the possibility of reasoning with El‘Koto,‖ Maldros said with
obvious strain  and extreme concern.  ―However  mad  he  may be,  he will  have to accept that
our forces will wipe him out soon enough!‖
―In  my experience,‖ Jothar replied through clenched jaws, ―madmen  have  little care
for death or defeat. Of course I  have considered  reasoning  with the  man! I  have even sent
messengers to attempt such a feat! But I know in my heart that he will not see the sense of
reason, he will dig in his heels and harden his heart until we are without any other option but
to take back our leaders in a desperate struggle.‖ His last sentence was   said with a new level
of calm, though his teeth were still clenched as each word seethed through in pure expression
of angst and waning tolerance for such interruptions.
―Well,  if  you see  it that  way, we  will back  you as  far as we can  go,‖ Maldros said
finally after a deep sigh, as Morthros straightened his spine to salute again which gave Jothar
pause to relax a little more.
―Shall we go over the battle plans once more?‖ Morthros asked with a raised bushy
brow.  ―I‘m still a  little  nervous  that  we  may  have  missed something. Do  you  suppose this
abduction could all be part of some greater scheme by the Dark One?‖
―I don‘t know about that,‖ Jothar replied, resigned to tolerate a little more before he
set out on this daring campaign. ―You have had the entire mo rning to look over the maps I
marked out with our attack formations, but if we must, we must.‖
Jothar  then  used the  large  map on  his desk to  run through the  marked positions of
Jothar‘s  forces and  the army of  most  mortal  farmers belonging to  El‘Koto. Jotha r‘s  forces
were  marked  by  blue  figurines  taken  from  a  large  game  of  mohrthra’daeghal,  while
El‘Koto‘s army was displayed with red figurines. Just looking at this example on the map, it
was  clear  Jothar‘s  army  was  superior  in  number,  and  ability,  as  his  was  an  army  formed
mostly of Nordics, some the finest and strongest warriors in all of Kismeria, and the mortal
warriors amongst their ranks were also revered as some of the greatest in the land.
It  was clear therefore that  El‘Koto‘s plan was  fatally  flawed,  and  this  made Jothar
consider the possibility of a grander scheme by the Shadow as even more plausible. However,
if  the  Dark  One  knew  the  Sons  and  Daughter  were  held  helpless  in  dark  prison  cells,  he
would likely have already sent his Souljhin into those prisons to wipe out the Saviours before
the night was through.
His  intelligence  gave  no  suggestion  that  this  had  already  occurred,  though  the
possibility of  this becoming the  next  move of the Dark One caused  greater  fear  to swell  in
Jothar‘s heart, as  he su ddenly smashed a number of red  figurines aside with a swipe of his
right hand, as he stared with fuming eyes at his companions as he began to shout, ―We must
move now, gentlemen!  The risks are  more serious than I  had up till  now considered. If the
Dark One  were to learn of this predicament, just think what he might throw against the Sons
and Daughter in their vulnerable condition!‖
The  realisation  seemed  to  dawn  upon  the  two  men  who  saluted  once  more  with
breastplates raised  like a pair of plovers before all three  men began to  march  from the tent
with extremely agitated vigour.
***
Talegon Mobritha, Guardian and personal bodyguard to King Orion Demonslayer, was in a
foul  mood this  morning, as  he scaled the  walls of  Auglem Watch  for the second time  in a
matter of hours. He knew he would have been just as helpless if he had joined the king when
they first arrived at the keep, though he still blamed himself for not being there. Garbed in the
ghoda’sidhe, black  material tightly  wrapped about  his arms and  legs,  t he only parts of  his
body  that  would  appear  visible—even  in  broad  daylight—were  his  eyes,  and  his  bright
emerald mask and gauntlets of lacquered steel. This was the result of the enchantment upon
the warrior  garb,  identical  to the Guardian cloaks  in  its cr afting; that  made the shadow- like
material blend with its surroundings to create a perfect camouflage. He could have made the
disguise more complete by wrapping the same material about his mask and gauntlets, though
this interfered with the code of honour  that every Guardian and Alit‘aren lived by.
His only  weapon  was  his  long sword strapped across  his back, also  wrapped  in  the
same camouflage material except for the golden hilt above his shoulder. Any guards on the
walkways who spotted him would take some  time before they understood the threat he posed.
Further along the walkway, Kelflax, Orion‘s other bodyguard, hauled himself over the
wall to land and crouch, his mauve mask and gauntlets the only parts of him visible on that
stone path.  Talegon  raised  his right  gauntlet  to signal  to Kelflax,  raising three  fingers and
pointing to his right which meant there were three guards in sight in that direction. Kelflax
raised his purple steel gauntlet, with two fingers raised as he pointed in the opposite direction.
Talegon  crouched,  watching  Kelflax  creep  along  the  walkway  behind  one  of  the
soldiers;  garbed  in  dark  leather  with  a  steel  breastplate,  armed  with  a  crossbow.  Keeping
himself  hidden required  a twisting of the  limbs  from time  to time to keep the camoufla ge
material facing the sight lines of the enemy. Kelflax was also skilled at moving silently.
When the first soldier fell from the wall, his scream alerted the second. Kelflax drew
his sword and charged towards the man who stood with a confused expression, holding the
crossbow bolt pointed downwards. Kelflax‘s blade glinted in the morning light, denting the
steel conical helmet worn by the guard, flecks of blood spurting outwards as the second man
fell to his death.
Talegon watched as Kelflax sheathed his blade and crept onwards along the walkway
towards the staircase that would  lead to the dungeons beneath the Keep of  Auglem Watch.
Talegon crouched and waited as the other three guards began to charge towards him, seeing
no danger, only  hearing  the screams of their  fallen comrades. These three  had their swords
drawn, and they ran  in blindly.  Talegon was relieved at this, as  he would  have  had trouble
dodging their crossbow bolts if the two behind spotted him while he dealt with the first. He
waited, until the first was within reach, and then stood to strike the man across the throat with
the blade bone of  his right  hand.  The  man stood  gasping,  his sword clanging to  the paved
stones. Talegon gripped the man by the shoulder and waist belt, hauling him up and o ver the
wall. The man screamed as he fell. The other two charging men slowed in confusion, still not
seeing his form completely.
In that moment Talegon charged forwards, crossing the distance between him and the
second guard, drawing his sword as he ran.  His blade cleaved through the leather vest worn
by the second guard, who fell to his knees as Talegon leapt over him to raise the sword high
above the third guard, who was fumbling for his crossbow.
―Mercy!‖ the guard shouted as he also fell to his knees,  the crossbow falling from his
trembling grasp. ―Please, show mercy,‖ the man begged, raising his palms in prayer position.
―You  will  show  me  the  location  of  the  Sons  of  Odin  and  the  Daughter  of  Thor,‖
Talegon said. ―The Immortal Kings and Queens also, if you attempt to deceive me, you will
die slowly and painfully. Do you understand?‖
―Yes,‖ the  man said with a relieved expression, ―I will  show  you where they are, I
promise.‖
Talegon  made  a  bird  noise,  a  signal  to  Kelflax,  he  saw  his  friend  raise  his  mauve
gauntlet. Thunder roared a moment after; Talegon looked to the fields surrounding the keep
to see Kelderath‘s horsemen facing a much larger force of farmer warriors.
Though, Kelderath‘s forcers were mostly formed of wielders, Alit‘aren to help form
shields from arrows and spears—in accordance with the decree—and Ael Tarael to scare this
farmer army into submission to avoid bloodshed. The earth heaved and walls of fire erupted
ten feet high, flowing towards the farmer warriors like a golden wave.
Lightning  flared in the sky, dozens of blue bolts that moved closer to the defenders of
the keep  with every strike. It was a  warning, and a distraction. Talegon and Kelflax were
supposed to have waited for this signal before scaling the walls, though they burnt wit h rage
to rescue their king from this madman El‘Koto.
When  Kelflax  reached  him,  Talegon  turned  to  explain  that  they  would  follow  this
soldier to the dungeons where they would stage a rescue. ―There are wielders down there,‖
the soldier insisted. ―Alit‘are n, they hold the shields over the Chosen. You will need wielders
strong  at  forming  shields  to  defeat  those  men.‖  Talegon  looked  left  and  right  to  see  the
ghoda’sidhe  masks and gauntlets of more Guardians and some Alit‘aren reaching the tops of
the walls. ―How many hold each shield?‖ Kelflax asked.
―Three linked Alit‘aren for every captured wielder,‖ was the man‘s nervous reply.
―Gather the Alit‘aren strong at weaving shields,‖ Talegon instructed his friend. ―We
will attempt to overpower them, one group at a time.‖
Something  whisked  through the air past his  face, a crossbow bolt struck the arm of
one of the nearby Guardians. The man fell to his knees as his form became the shadow- like
material, blood gushing from the wound.
―Get  those  gates  open,  now!‖  Talegon  shouted  gruffly.  Soldiers  began  rushing
towards them on both sides of the walkway, crossbows raised as they shouted and pointed at
the  fallen  Guardian.  Talegon  leapt  for  the  highest rooftop  within  the walls of the keep,  he
landed and rolled off the side  of the roof to catch himself with his free hand, clinging to the
stone and hanging over forty feet above the pavement. Crossbow bolts whisked past his head,
striking the stones where he held his grip.
***
Terese Marheildon, once known as Terese Silverb lade, crouched low in her cell of darkness.
The shouts and footfalls alerted her to the presence of guards; she was certain rescue was on
its way.
Her  immortal  ears  detected  the  Power  being  wielded  on  the  fields  surrounding
Auglem  Watch,  she  knew  it  would   be  Ael  Tarael  either  intimidating  or  annihilating  the
farmer army that stood defending the walls of the keep. She did not hear the screams of men
or horses,  which suggested those weaves were only  intended to  frighten the defenders  into
submission. A wise  plan, it would be difficult to restore order in this region if they began by
slaughtering soldiers with the Power.
Damn that mad bloody fool El’Koto!
It infuriated her that they had been so easily duped by the charade of peace that the
mad chief had lured them in with. Fear for Jean‘s life kept her rage boiling like a hot kettle.
There were no Alit‘aren to guard her, her limited use of the Power was not perceived as any
kind of threat.
There was little she could do to get herself out of this situation;  other than startle the
guards with weaves of Fire, so small they would only be an annoyance. In her past lives she
had been an Archer of various clans, wielding arrows of fire from a Lukrorian Bow, though
she was always more skilled with the sword, and her  abilities were always limited to a tiny
spark of the Power compared to most immortals of that Age. Her only hope was to wait for
rescue. She prayed that she could save Jean in time . . . and the others.
The  Sons  of  Odin  were  equally  important  to  fulfilling  the  Prophecies,  though  she
cared  for  Jean  like  the  woman  was  a  little  sister  who  needed  her  protection.  Well,  Jean
needed it now, perhaps more than she ever would again. Terese began to grind her teeth in
frustration, wriggling  in the ropes that bound  her  wrists behind  her back. She could easily
escape those with tiny weaves of Fire to slice through the bonds, and she had done so twice
already, which only resulted in a beating by one of the guards. Her rib cage ached from the
beatings; she feared some bo nes were fractured. It seemed beyond belief that these soldiers
would willingly assault women who were not guilty of any crime.
Perhaps they’re all mad.
Her breathing became laboured as a result of the pain in her ribs.
She heard shouts in the hallways  outside her cell, the guards also heard though they
seemed reluctant to leave her unguarded. Finally one of the men left though the heavy iron
door, revealing the sounds of clashing steel and the screams of dying men. The sounds were
becoming  more distant,  as  if the  fight was  moving beyond her cell. She decided  it  must be
because she had no wielders to shield her. Rescuers would not sense the Power in this area so
they would move on to cells where they knew Alit‘aren were standing guard. Those would be
the  cells that held the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor, which would be their primary
objective.
Her mind began to race at the possibilities of  teron  being thrown around so close to
where Jean was  imprisoned.  Jean could be  torn apart by  the Power during  such a battle!  I
have to get to her, she thought desperately. These fools could bungle any plan no matter how
cleverly it was devised.
Then a plan struck her, she wondered how it had taken so long for her to see it. She
began to weave Fire and Air, an  intricate series of weaves,  first to blend  her  form  with the
dark stone walls, as she began to force herself to stand. A slice of Fire released her from her
bonds,  then she created even  more complex  weaves,  to produce a  mirror  image of  herself,
formed of Fire and Air, standing outside the cell and facing the guard. The white robed man
drew his sword and started to shout, ―How did you manage to escape?‖ Stepping forward he
moved close enough to the prison bars for her plan to succeed.
Her real self, still ins ide the cage, reached out to pull him towards the bars with both
hands. She considered snapping his neck, though she had time to cut off his air supply with
an arm around his throat, knocking him out so she could retrieve his cell keys from his waist
belt.  She did  not  like to kill pawns  in situations where they could be spared, even  this one
who had seen to her beating.
He  was  just  following  orders,  she  told  herself  as  she  unlocked  the  cell  door  and
moved to take  his sword. She  would  have to exercise  restraint when  facing these  Alit‘aren
who held Jean captive, provided she was able to secure wielders to create shields to hold the
traitors.  To  run  them  through  with  the  blade  would  be  to  go  against  the  decree  of  the
immortal kings,  that even  mad or evil  Alit‘aren  must be spared  if  they could be captured
rather than killed.
Just following orders, she thought to herself, grinding her teeth as she opened the door
to peer into the hallway of darkness and terrified screams.
***
Tobin  Fireheart,  King  of  the  Nordics,  listened  to  the  sounds  of  battle  taking  place  in  the
hallways  surrounding  his  cell.  Rescue  would  come  soon,  and  he  would  have  vengeance
against the mad fool El‘Koto for this injustice. He feared for the safety of the Sons of Odin
and the Daughter of Thor, for the hope of Kismeria rested on their shoulders, yet his greatest
fear was  that  his dear wife  Lydia  may be badly  wounded, or worse . . . He stood  from  his
crouched position, his hands bound behind his back with a course rope. The shields held by
the three linked Alit‘aren outside his cell made it impossible for him to touch  teron.
If  he  could  reach  for  the  Power,  he  would  forget  the  new  laws  of  the  decree  that
restricted him to only wield shields of Air. He would fill this hallway with blasts of flam e to
strip the flesh from these traitorous bones. Still, three linked mortal wielders of their strength
were sufficient to keep the Power beyond his reach, though he did try, despite the pain they
sent  through  his  flesh,  like  thousands  of  white  hot  needles   inside  his  body  and  mind.  He
ignored the pain. He laughed at them, and snarled like a feral wolf.
―Release me!‖ He bellowed in his deep tones. ―I will spare your lives if you assist me
now, though if my wife has been harmed, you will hang before the sun  sets this day!‖
One  of  the  men  shouted  from  the  shadows,  ―Silence,  Tobin  Fireheart!‖  More  pain
followed, pulsating through his mind and flesh. The punishment lasted so long this time, he
thought  he  might cry out  to beg  for  mercy,  when suddenly the pain  van ished—and  in that
stunned moment that the Alit‘aren began to groan in the shadows —he felt the shields vanish
also, allowing him to reach for the Power.
Teron  flooded  his  veins,  rivers of  ice and rain of  fire,  the ropes  fell away  from  his
hands.  The  Alit‘a ren  outside  his  cell  must  have  been  shielded  by  other  wielders  in  the
hallway. Rescue was a certainty. Despite this Tobin‘s thirst for vengeance overpowered his
restraint. A ball of flame hovered in mid air outside the cell, giving him perfect view of the
three Alit‘aren in their dark coats and trousers. A waving gesture sent two of the men flying
down the hallway, skulls hitting the stone wall before they fell unconscious.
It  was only  for the decree  that  he spared their  lives. He  gestured  towards the thir d
man, who  flew towards  his cell.  Tobin clutched the keys through  the  iron bars. As  he  was
stepping out  from  the  unlocked  cell, the  hallway door opened to  reveal the  face of  Terese
Silverblade, wielding a steel sword and followed by two Guardians in a purp le and jade mask
of the ghoda’sidhe.
―Where is King Orion?‖ The emerald masked one asked, Tobin recognising the voice
and now the eyes of Talegon, one of Orion‘s bodyguards. That would make the other Kelflax,
which he confirmed at a second glance at the other man‘s eyes.
―I  do  not  know,‖  Tobin  said  as  he  moved  to  draw  a  sword  from  the  belt  of  the
Alit‘aren who lay against the cell bars. That one he had knocked out with a heavy blow of Air
to the back of the skull. ―I must find my wife first. Who will help   me?‖ Talegon and Kelflax
made  vexed  noises  through  their  masks—they  would  be  anxious  to  rescue  Orion  and
Elmira—then both bowed their heads as Talegon said, ―Of course, the Queen of the Nordics
is vital to the fate of Kismeria.‖
―We are looking for Jean first and foremost,‖ Terese interjected. ―Any we find before
then will be rescued, but we question every  guard we can capture as to the  location of the
Daughter of Thor.‖
―Lead the way,‖ Tobin said with a slight tilt of his head as a sign of submission to her
demands.
***
Orion Demonslayer, King of the Torvellen, strode through the hallways of the dungeons of
Auglem Watch like a phantom. He held more of the Power than he should have without the
aid of a Battle Angel or a wielding artefact to enhance his control, but he did not care for the
risks.  His  heart  ached  to  find  his  love;  she  was  still  held  in  these  dank  prison  cells  .  .  .
somewhere . . .
―Elmira?‖ he cried; flinging a weave of Fire at the seven guards that charged towards
him. The weave  flew through  their silvered breastplates—like an arrow of  golden  flame as
thick  as  his  forearm —to  set  all  seven  aflame  in  a  blast  that  filled  the  dark  hallway.  The
screams of the men was bliss to his ears, their pain was his contentment. If his dear wife was
in any wa y harmed, he would return to inflict greater punishments upon those that survived.
Behind him marched the five Alit‘aren who had rescued him from his cell. They had
Healed his bruises and the fracture in his skull where he was struck when first captured.  The
three traitorous Alit‘aren who had held his shield before then were wrapped in chambers   of
Fire  the  moment  Orion  was  able  to  wield.  With  teron  flooding  his  veins,  the  taint  was
enhanced to amounts that made him want to vomit in disgust. The taint fille d his mind also,
making  him dance on  the precipice of sanity—he  unleashed another  weave  that enveloped
four guards in a tunnel of green fire—as he fought for control of his wits within the ecstasy
and bliss of teron. ―Elmira!‖ He shouted. ―Elmira! Where are you my love?‖
At the Dawn of Ages, the Lord was One with the Universe,
And He Created Odin, who made the Aesir, first of the Great Angels,
And the Aelfin, First Bloods of the Ancient Nordics,
And Odin spoke the Great Prophecy to Rodin Cloudwalker,
First King of the Immortal Nordics, saying unto him, 
Behold, the Prophecy of the Arrival of my three Sons,
Who shall journey to Kismeria from another realm,
These three, the Wolf, the Lion and the Dragon,
Shall hold Salvation in the palms of their hands,
For they have knowledge that surpasses all laws and principles,
And within them is a dark seed, forged of evil,
That shall give forth shoots of a great tree of Light,
That tree will spread deep roots, to the foundations of the earth,
And its branches shall reach as high as the pillars of heaven,
For they have seen what no other in their world could comprehend,
They have endured a great suffering beyond any known capacity,
And that suffering, that seed of Darkness, shall spread within the tree of Light,
Spreading to the Low Realm, and the High Realm, corrupting all with its force,
That taint is the seed of the Dark Lord,
Forged within the souls of the Sons of Odin,
They shall bring terror and destruction, chaos and despair,
Though they shall hold aloft that tree of Light,
To shelter mankind like the shepherd shall protect the flocks,
And they shall wield the Power of the Aesir, who shall be their Guardians,
And with that might they will face the Dark One for a final confrontation.
Take heed of the signs of the Arrival, prepare for the Age of Chaos,
And pray that my Sons Return, when the Great Battle calls;
To save Kismeria, from the Storm of Oblivion.
Excerpt from; The Karaedhal Prophecy,
passed down by word of mouth amongst the immortal Kings since the Dawn of Age s.
First written records made following the Arrival of the Sons of Odin within the texts of
Book One of the Rohjor Chronicles, Dawn of the Age of Chaos.
Chapter
1
Out of Darkness
Adem  heard  the  screams  of  dying  men  in  the  hallways  surrounding  his  cell.  He  was  still
badly injured, his jaw and right arm fractured. The wound above his eye had begun to bleed
anew,  he  wasn‘t  certain  of  the  cause  though  it  happened  while  his  Alit‘aren  guards  were
punishing him with those waves of pain that coursed through his mind and flesh.
Rescue  was  on  the  way!  He  was  certain  of  it  from  the  screams  of  those  men  that
certified  there  were  wielders  fighting  against  the  guards.  His  hands  were  still  bound  with
course rope, tied behind his back as he crouched against the cold stone.
The  Alit‘aren  who  held  his  shield were  not  visible, though  he  heard  their  laboured
breathing in anticipation of battle.
―How  many are out  there do  you think?‖ One said —Hador  was  his  name—hair of
flame and younger than Adem by at least three years.
―We  should  secure  the  weaves  and  leave  him  here,‖  another  said,  the  dark  haired
one—Aiden—he sounded more than nervous.
―They‘re right outside our door!‖ Hador shouted. ―We have  no  hope of escape! We
should surrender!‖
―Never!‖  the  third  Alit‘aren  shouted  from  the  shadows—Ekron—the  eldest  of  the
three, long brown locks and jade green eyes. ―You know the new decree! If we surrender, we
shall  be  forced  to  submit  to  their  laws!  I  would  rather  die  than  become  restricted  in  my
capacity to wield!‖ His voice was a lso  filled with desperation.  Adem wondered  if  he could
reason with them as he spoke up, saying, ―Yes, if you . . . surrender, I will . . . see that you all
. . . receive a fair trial.‖ His words were slowed by the pain in his jaw.
―Silence,  Adem  Highlander !‖  Ekron  shouted,  stepping  forward  into  the  amber
torchlight. Pain flooded Adem‘s mind and body, hot filaments of energy, like holding onto an
electric fence of incredibly high voltage. He screamed in agony, begging them to stop, when
suddenly the pain ended, and at the same time his shield vanished!
As he reached for the Power—rivers of lava and hail of ice rushed through his core,
the taint so foul he had to heave for breath—his hands were cut free with weaves of Fire, a
ball of  light appeared  in  mid air  amongst the  three  Alit‘aren. They were  shielded  from  the
Power,  and  their  hands  were  tied  at  their  sides  with  flows  of  Air,  despite  their  helpless
situation he did not trust to fate.  
He gestured with his left hand, a pushing motion that flung Hador and A iden against
the  far  wall,  their  skulls  hitting  stone  before  they  fell  unconscious.  He  gestured  again,  a
dragging motion, and Ekron flew towards him to slam into the iron bars. He couldn‘t raise his
right  arm  to  seize  Ekron,  so  he  created  another  shield  of  Air  to  hold  the  man,  and  then
reached for the keys at his waist belt. When he was free of the cell he drew the sword that
hung from the belt of the shielded Alit‘aren.
His right arm was useless, and he had had little training to wield a blade using only
his left hand, but it gave him some sense of security to hold a weapon. He opened the door to
the hallway and peered out into a scene of shadows and fire. A figure surrounded by a blue white  nimbus  stood  in  the  hallway,  his  dark  eyes  looking  crazed.  The  ta ll  man  gestured
towards a number of soldiers who charged down the hallway, and a moment later those men
were wreathed in walls of emerald fire.
The  wielder  moved closer  towards  Adem‘s door, with  more warriors  garbed  in  the
ghoda’sidhe  behind  him. In the  torchlight,  Adem  made out the  face of the  man  who held
more Power than any man should hold unaided.
―Orion!‖  Adem  shouted,  pushing  the  door  open  and  stumbling  out  towards  the
Torvellen King. Orion  looked  like another person, the taint  and  teron  a clear battle  in  his
expression of ecstasy and disgust. Though, it was his rage that burnt in his eyes.
―Adem Highlander?‖ The king asked with a confused expression, still holding more
of  the  Power  than  Adem  would  be  capable  of  even  if  he  was  aided  by  his  Battle  A ngel,
Arawn.
―Yes . . . it‘s me,‖ Adem replied. ―You should release . . . some of the Power.‖
―Not  until  my  wife  is  safe,‖  Orion  replied  in  deep  tones.  ―Where  is  she?  I  have
searched for hours in this maze of dungeons.‖
―I‘m . . . not sure,‖ Adem replied,  ―but . . . I will . . . help you find her. But first, could
you . . . Heal me please? My arm, it‘s broken, and . . . my jaw.‖
―Of  course,‖  Orion  replied,  then  he  clasped  Adem  by  the  shoulder,  rivers  of  ice
flooded his mind and soul, he trembled, then conv ulsed, then struggled to keep his arms at his
sides as  he  felt  the bones knit back together by the  magic of  teron. He  gasped  for breath,
feeling young again.
―Thank you, Orion.‖ Adem remarked, as he reached for the sword hilt with his right
hand, weaving  flows of teron  into the blade until it shone blue. ―You lead the way, my king.‖
He suggested this as he didn‘t want to be in the firing line between the enemy guards and the
amount of the Power that Orion still held. Adem was desperate to find Jean, and his friends,
the thought of losing any of them gripped his heart with fear. But he would not argue with
that ferocity in the eyes of the Torvellen King. It was the look of a man in the grip of a mad
rage, a burning desire to turn  his enemies to  vapour, which  he continued to do every time
they were confronted by guards within the dark tunnels.
Adem wasn‘t sure what Jean would say about one of the Immortal King‘s breaking
the laws of the new decree; he just knew he wouldn‘t be the one to tell of what he had se en
occur on this day.
***
Jean listened to the sounds of battle. She sat on the hard bench within the darkness, her hands
bound. Three Alit‘aren  guarded  her cell, their  faces hidden by shadows  unless one of them
stepped into the torchlight. The three men were nervous now, also listening to the screams of
men dying from what she guessed were attacks unleashed by wielders.
Lights of green, blue and white flared through the small window of the hallway door,
reflecting off the dark stone walls. Adem was free;  she knew that much from her sense of him
through the  kigare. She could sense  Tanriel  her  Battle  Angel  faintly  in  her  mind also. She
sensed that  Tanriel was deeply concerned  for  her safety, though the distance between them
kept her Battle Angel‘s direct tho ughts blurred.
The word  rescue  had passed  from  Tanriel‘s  mind  to  hers  more  than once  however.
The  three  Alit‘aren  held  her  shielded.  Even  if  she  could  touch  the  Power,  she  would  not
inflict  great  harm  upon these  young  men. They were  fools to  trust the  mad man El‘Koto as
their  leader, but  she would  not blame them  for that  mistake.  They  had  not  mistreated  her,
only warning her not to try to touch the Power. Their only sense of that would be her attempts
to investigate the surface of the invisible walls that c ut her off from terael.
She had sensed the incredible pain felt by the three Sons of Odin during their captivity
however,  especially  Adem‘s  torture.  Her  sense  of  his  relief  was  the  sure  sign  that  he‘d
escaped, though she could also detect him moving towards her cell. She sensed Carl and Wil
faintly also, they were both still receiving torture from their captors.
She knew Adem would not let her down, nor would Terese. She regretted not sharing
the kigare  with Terese also. Perhaps she could find a way to bind their senses with a spell, to
link their minds for greater security during just such situations. Of course, the woman would
then know  immediately  if  Jean ever bedded Adem again.  If  I ever get out here alive, she
thought desperately.
Suddenly, she felt  her shield vanish! She reached for terael  and the Power flooded her
veins.  The  three  men  began  to  shout  curses;  obviously  they  had  been  overpowered  and
shielded. She created three new shields. She sealed the weaves, then she demanded, ―Release
me!‖
Two of the men were bound in walls of Air also, so they were unable to move, though
she allowed the key holder to walk to the cell to open the door after she gave the threat of,
―Unlock this door or I‘ll burn you alive!‖ It was just a threat of course; she didn‘ t have it in
her to resort to such violence against human beings, especially such innocent eyed youths as
these three were.
Her hands had been freed the moment she touched the Power. The dark eyed young
man fumbled for the keys and opened the lock with trembling hands.
―Don‘t  hurt  us, please,‖  he pleaded after  she was  free of  the cell. She  immediately
bound the third male with Air so his hands were locked at his sides, then she took the keys
from his fingers and moved to open the large iron door that enclosed her quarters.
The  first  face  she  saw  in  the  hallway  of  shadows  and  fire  was  Terese,  charging
towards her shouting, ―Jean, thank heavens you‘re alright!‖ Jean stepped into the hallway to
see  King  Tobin  striding  behind  her  with  a  host  of  Guardians  and  Alit‘aren  following,  all
garbed in the black wrappings and brightly coloured masks of the  ghoda’sidhe.
She heard a shout behind her, and turned to see a guard charging towards her with his
sword raised. A bolt of lightning flew past her head to strike the   man, sending him flying in
the opposite direction in a ball of blue fire. She turned back to see that it was Tobin who had
cast the bolt. Blue fire still burnt in his palms.
―You  mustn‘t wield Fire, even to save  my  life, King  Tobin.‖ Jean said  urgently.  ―I
cannot protect  you  from the  new  laws.  Even a king  must suffer his  fate  if  he disobeys the
decree.‖
―You would sever me from wielding?‖ Tobin asked with a puzzled expression.
―That  is  in accordance  with the  law.‖ Jean replied.  ―Please,  you  must  not do  mo re
than weave shields of Air. These  men are witnesses to your crime, if I allow you pardon it
will suggest the rules may be broken under special circumstances. You must suffer the same
fate as any male wielder who breaks the law.‖
―But  that  would  be  a  deat h  sentence,  Jean!‖  Terese  said  nervously.  ―He  was  only
trying to save your life, the life of the Daughter of Thor! Be reasonable, Jean, for the sake of
the Nordic people. Tobin  is a great king. He cannot suffer such a  fate.‖  The woman‘s eyes
were pleading;  she would see the necessity of his act, and hope that Jean could forgive him.
But Jean had to uphold the law, it was her duty. She looked behind the men down the hallway
to see the bodies of guards still writhing in agony from the flames that licked along  their flesh
and bones.
―If this is your doing, Tobin Fireheart,‖ Jean said, ―you will face due punishment.‖
―They have my wife!‖ The man bellowed in outrage. ―I tried to conform to the laws,
but there were too many of them, we were outnumbered. I must sa ve Lydia.‖ His words were
desperate at the last.
―We will find your wife, Tobin.‖ Jean said reassuringly. ―Do not wield Fire again in
my presence. I may be able to keep you alive if you follow my orders.‖
***
Wil moved through the dark hallways of the dungeons of Auglem Watch, a steel axe in his
hand he had removed from one of the dead guards. He didn‘t allow any of the guards to get
close enough to him for it to become necessary to wield the axe, though the weapons shone
crimson from flows of teron. The decree did not extend to the Sons of Odin; they could wield
the Five Elements without fear of punishment.
So every time a crowd of soldiers stood in his path, he unleashed flames like rockets,
until the hallways were wreathed  in  smoke and the stench of scorched flesh. Other times he
sent guards flying with a gesture, sometimes encasing them in blue or green Fire before they
even hit the stone walls.
Behind him marched four Alit‘aren and two Guardians in their battle garb. They had
rescued him over an hour ago, and he had searched these seemingly endless halls for his wife
Hayley ever since. The Alit‘aren did not engage in the battle unless they were confronted by
more than one enemy wielder. Those traitorous Alit‘aren were bound in shields that cut them
off  from the Power.
In accordance with the decree, he was expected to spare the lives of those men once
they were shielded and bound, but  more than once  he  had  taken out  his rage against  these
men who had turned from the Light. Perhaps he would be punished for that, but his rage was
fed by their actions, their betrayal. Some of those men were younger than he, guilt would take
him eventually, but now he was stalking like a tiger on the hunt. ―Where are you, Hayley?‖
He shouted, his voice enhanced by  teron  to fill the hallways with a booming echo. ―Hayley,
my darling, I‘ll  find  you, I promise!‖  The  taint also  fed that  hunger  for  vengeance, sliding
over the surface of the Power like a rancid gel. He held almost his full capacity without the
aid of his Battle Ange l. If he had his enchanted axe within his grasp, he would have used Dis
Pater‘s strength to double his hold on teron. He had no need of more strength; the amount he
held was enough to make these walls collapse if he wished it. He would not do that until hi s
wife and friends were safe however.
His heart ached at the thought of losing his one true love. ―Hayley, where are you? Do
not despair,  my  love! I  will save  you!‖  A  guard  stepped  into  the  hallway ahead of  him, a
crossbow raised in his grasp. The bolt flew towards him as he tried to weave a shield of Air,
but  he  was  a  second  too  late—as  were  the  Alit‘aren  behind  him  who  also  tried  to  form
shields—and the bolt punched through the right side of his chest!
He fell while coughing up blood. The Power still flowed through him however, and
the  guard  exploded  from  the  inside  out,  his  head  coming  off,  his  neck  erupting  in  a  red
fountain as the body fell to its knees. Wil was also on his knees, the axe fallen from his grasp.
The pain from the bolt was immense, though he roared with rage as he pulled the shaft free
with his left hand. He screamed from the pain of flesh being torn open from the inside out.
Blood poured from the open wound like water from a leaking bucket. He fell on his face . . .
darkness . . .
His last thought was,  Hayley, my love . . .
***
Carl  marched  through  the  dark  tunnels  of  the  dungeons,  four  Alit‘aren  behind  him  as  he
moved with the temper of a lion on edge. They would form shields to protect him if he was in
any danger, though with the amo unt of teron he held, there was little chance of that.
He had ripped off his cell door with weaves of Air, as soon as the three Alit‘aren who
guarded  his cell  were shielded.  Those  three  would be  unable to  move  until  he returned to
release the weaves.
He  would not let his temper turn him into a murderer, when there was the option of
preserving life. These traitors deserved a fair trial, perhaps then they would be severed from
teron to never wield again, a sure death sentence, though that was more humane than burning
them alive.
The guards he had confronted during his search through the dungeons had been dealt
with by similar  means.  He bound them  in  shields, trapping  them  as surely as  if  they were
frozen stiff. He was only strong enough with Air, due to his   knowledge gained from the life
of the High Druid—during his experience in the Chameleon Arch—and as a result of his link
with the four Alit‘aren who had rescued him, their strength in the Power passed onto him for
the most part.
Behind the Alit‘aren walked Hayley Martyr and Queen Lydia, both also rescued from
their cells by the same four wielders. They would be more effective against these guards and
traitor Alit‘aren, due to their willingness to wield Fire to vanquish their enemies, though Carl
would not  allow such destruction of human life. He saw it as his duty to protect the souls of
those two women also. Hayley and Lydia were a little dirty on their faces and dresses, dark
patches of soot from the walls of their cells. Other than that they were unharmed, which was
a great relief to him. He feared what Wil and Tobin might be capable of if their wives were
badly injured. They often found congealed dark corpses licked with flames and the scent of
burning flesh.
They  approached  a  cell  door.  He  sensed  the  t hree  male  wielders  within  that  area.
Teron  flooded  his  veins and  he  weaved shields  to surround  the  three  Alit‘aren behind  the
door. He  felt their hold on  the Power  vanish as he  locked the shields.  There were no other
male wielders in there, he could sense  it. He broke the lock on the door with Earth and Fire,
then pushed the door inwards to reveal the three men frozen with their arms at their sides. He
could  only  make  out  one  of  their  faces  in  the  torchlight,  though  that  young  man  looked
terrified and the other two groaned with despair. ―I won‘t harm you,‖ Carl said. ―Who is your
prisoner?‖
―The Torvellen Queen  is here.‖  The  first  young  man replied, dark of  hair and eyes.
Carl wove a ball of blue  light that hovered  in the air  in  front of the cage, revealing  Queen
Elmira, in her blue silk gown and white cloak crusted with soot. Her jewels had been taken
from her evidently, as was the case with Hayley and Lydia. The mad fool El‘Koto obviously
followed some of the rules of revolution, taking from the rich with  the premise of giving to
the less fortunate. Though Carl suspected the man would use the wealth to build his armies in
an effort to conquer the world.
Delusions of grandeur, he thought to himself, as he gestured to unlock the cage and
make the door swing outwards.
***
Wil‘s eyes shot open, the Power flooding his veins. It was the familiar ice cold trickling of
terael  flowing  through  him.  He  trembled  from  the  force  of  the  Healing,  the  most  violent
spasms he had ever experienced, which was no surprise, as h is wound was deep. He gasped
for air when the feeling left him, his focus returned to allow him to make out the face of the
woman in the shadows. It was Jean! He looked around his body to see a large pool of blood,
so much he wondered how he had held on th is long.
In the darkness he had seen himself flying through space towards a great white light,
then he heard a woman‘s voice calling him back, then the light was rocketing away from him
and he was returning to his mortal shell. He realised when he woke that it was Jean‘s voice
that he had heard. ―Thank you, Jean,‖ he said after a few breaths. ―You saved me. How can I
repay you?‖
―By helping us get out of here, you big woodchopper.‖ That was Terese‘s voice; he
made out her dark braid surrounded by a nimbus behind Jean.
―I must find Hayley first,‖ he said as he tried to stand, and then he collapsed from the
incredible pain that still filled his chest, like a hole of fire. ―Hayley, I will save you my love.‖
He meant it, but he couldn‘t have stood on his own if he tried. Two Guardians moved to pick
him up and put his arms over their shoulders, he recognised their eyes through the green and
mauve  masks  they  wore,  Talegon  and  Kelflax.  ―We  cannot  leave  without  Hayley!‖  He
breathed desperately. ―Will you find her, Jean?‖
―You require an expert Healer.‖ Jean said. ―I promise I will find your wife and bring
her out of here alive and well.‖ Then she gave orders to Talegon and Kelflax to take him to
the surface. As they walked him down the hallway he passed more Guardia ns and Alit‘aren in
black garb and coloured masks and gauntlets, as well as King Tobin in his dark blue silk robe
and black cloak. His crown was missing, and his eyes appeared filled with the same despair
that Wil felt in the search for his wife. Then he h eard Jean shout down the hallway, ―Tobin,
go with Wil and guard him!‖
―I‘m not leaving without Lydia!‖ Tobin bellowed.
―That‘s an order!‖ Jean snapped back at him. ―You mustn‘t wield any element other
than Air! I  will question  Talegon and Kelflax to  learn  if  you disobeyed  me,  now  go!‖  To
Wil‘s pure amazement, the Immortal King obeyed her! He raised the steel sword in his grasp
to hold it vertical in front of his face as he gave a short bow, then turned and began to stride
down the hallway with two more Alit‘aren following.
―This way, Wil Martyr,‖ Tobin said in deep tones. ―I shall lead us to safety.‖
***
Adem watched Orion turn another group of guards into pillars of flame with a gesture. The
immortal  must  have  taken  down  over  fifty  men  in  such  a  way  since  A dem  had  begun  to
follow him. The five guards were standing with swords and axes in their hands one minute,
then they were screaming as red flames wreathed their forms, arms wide and bodies falling as
the scent of burnt flesh swept down the hall. Their sear ch had been pointless however.
Everywhere  they  went  they  found  either  empty  cells  or  more  guards  needing
punishment. Behind them marched more Alit‘aren and Guardians who protected the rear with
shields of Air, and  more  than once they  had been  forced to pr otect  Adem  and Orion  from
guards wielding crossbows. If Adem had his way, the Alit‘aren would be allowed to use any
means of force necessary to ensure the safety of the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor.
They turned a corner to see four guards with crossbows aimed. The bolts flew towards
Adem and Orion as they both wielded shields of Air like a transparent wall of stone. The four
bolts struck the invisible shield, two of them punching through the wall but the shafts were
frozen  like sticks  in quick drying cement. In the same  moment Orion  gestured towards the
men, his right hand squeezing into a fist. The four guards exploded into fountains of blood,
body parts flying in all directions.
Adem was sickened by what he saw, though he also saw the way those  weaves were
formed and stored that  information away  like precious  gems. He  guessed  that such weaves
were outlawed even before the new decree, as he had never been taught anything close to that
potential  for destruction. If  they were outlawed, Orion  was  in  no  mood to care. The  man‘s
rage was at boiling point, the poor guards becoming helpless victims whenever they stood in
his path. Adem wondered if he could become so heartless and cruel at times when Jean‘s life
was in danger. He was worried for her now, though his sense of her through the  kigare  was
that she was free! He knew when he sensed her start to wield, the flood of emotions a sure
giveaway of her holding the Power.  
He only  wished he could read  her thoughts too. Then  he  might be able to  work out
where she was  in  this  maze of dungeons.  He knew she  was  still  down  here, and  he  could
sense  her  general  direction,  though  the  maze  made  it  impossible  to  find  her  despite  this
advantage—
Shouts  were  heard  up ahead, and  then  from behind,  guards  were charging  in  from
both sides! Ahead of them dozens of white robed soldiers began to file down the hallway; he
looked  behind  to  see  just  as  many  approaching.  Most  were  armed  with  swords,  axes  or
spears, though others wielded crossbows.
Orion  gestured and a bar of  liq uid blue  light  flew towards  the  men  in  front, the bar
struck the first guard in the silvered breastplate, and then erupted out the back of the man in
the familiar pattern known as Fire Serpents. Lightning surged through the chests and out the
backs  of  the  columns  of  soldiers,  the  men  screaming  as  they  fell,  twitching  like  sprayed
insects. That occurred  in a heartbeat, and Adem turned to  face the  guards behind them, the
Alit‘aren also facing them and weaving shields.
Crossbow bolts flew to strike the wall o f Air, two punching through halfway before
the shield locked them into place. Adem gestured to the guards, weaving two Jade Warriors
that stood eight feet tall. The samurai warriors of emerald light charged down the hallway to
slice the  guards  into piles o f  flesh  fit  for a butcher shop! It only  lasted a matter of seconds
before he released the weaves. There was no way he could have avoided killing those men,
they were outnumbered and even linked he would not have been able to hold all of them with
Air. He realised he could become just as deadly as Orion when he feared for Jean‘s safety.
He turned back to see the carnage of Orion‘s weaves, piles of bodies with holes burnt
through  their  chests.  That  had  to  be  the  last  of  their  reserves.  Their  escape  was  almos t
assured. His sense of Jean then was that she  was  making  her way to the surface. He  hoped
that meant she had found the others. He said to Orion, ―Follow me.
Chapter
2
Into the Light
Adem reached the surface level of the dungeons to find that Jean had  played a major role in
the rescue effort.  Terese shadowed  her as  usual,  the dark  haired  woman standing  with  her
arms  crossed  under  her  breasts  as  she  marched  beside  Jean  step  for  step.  Wil  was  badly
wounded and  lying on  his back, waiting  for the skills of  an Ael  Tarael  who was an expert
Healer. His eyes were closed and his breathing slow, as if he barely held onto life.
Occasionally his eyes would flicker open with a look of dread, until Hayley arrived to
put his mind at ease. Guardians carried Wil to the  higher levels of the keep, towards the place
where  their  Battle  Angels  resided  in  their  Resting  Points.  The  enchanted  weapons  stood
leaning against the sides of El‘Koto‘s throne, including Hayley‘s golden bow. Obviously the
madman had planned on using the  Battle Angels in his quest to conquer the Free Lands.
Their other weapons were found in large chests in rooms nearby. Adem was relieved
when  he  closed  his  hand  around  the  golden  hilt  of  his  enchanted  blade,  and  felt  his
connection  with  Arawn  increase dra matically. He  had barely been able  to detect the words
Arawn  sent  through  the  kigare  during  his  time  in  prison,  now  he  heard  the  Battle  Angel
remark; I blame myself for not seeing the trap, Son of Odin. Forgive me.
Adem sent his reply.  We were taken by surprise, no one is to blame.  Regardless of
this, Adem felt it had been his own fault that they had walked right into a trap. This would be
a lesson to remember, they could not take chances by putting trust in strangers.
Jothar Kelderath and his small force of wielders had taken the city hostage some time
before Adem reached the surface. Wil received the Healing he required from an Ael Tarael in
El‘Koto‘s throne room. The woman had large dark eyes and the tanned skin of a Torvellen,
though  she  was  Nordic  as  her  golden  hair  suggested.  Dorelda  Motolari  was  her  name;
Kelderath had brought a handful of expert Healer Ael Tarael with the first wave of warriors.
Lydia and Elmira had been reluctant to attempt to try to save Wil once they had a good look
at the wound.  Dorelda sealed that wound however, making the flesh and muscle reform. Wil
was on his feet moments after, looking half dazed and complaining of hunger. Adem was also
famished, though his focus was on securing Auglem Watch.
El‘Koto was in chains and being  watched by some of Kelderath‘s soldiers, as well as
Guardians and Alit‘aren. Two Ael Tarael also formed the guard in case there was a need. The
mad chief looked forlorn when the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor stood before him,
holding  the  weapons  h e  had  so  deviously  coveted.  When  Adem  asked  the  man  if  he  had
anything  to  say  in  his defence, El‘Koto replied,  ―I only  wished  to keep the Saviours safe
before their time to face the Dark Lord. So much depends on you four . . . without you . . .
there is no   hope . . . there is nothing.‖ His grey eyes took on that look of madness as his gaze
became inward.
Truly a madman then! 
―How did you recruit the Alit‘aren?‖ Jean asked in cold tones.
―They wished to serve a ruler who would allow them to  wield  teron  whenever they
wished.‖  El‘Koto replied, a  firmness returning to  his  voice, as  if  he  were ruler once  more.
―They came from Rutheldor; months before the new laws were passed, seeking refuge from
the threat of revolution.‖
―So you used their strength to intimidate the rulers of Auglem Watch to hand the city
over to you.‖ Jean said. ―A clever plan, the only flaw I can see is that these Alit‘aren would
surely  become  madmen,  turning  against  one  another  until  this  city  became  a  bloodbath.‖
El‘Koto shrugged his shoulders at that, his expression suggesting a sickly feeling, most likely
in his skull. The fact that so many Alit‘aren could put their trust in this madman, showed just
how dangerous the conflict between male wielders and the rest of the Free Lands was going
t o be. If they could put their trust in El‘Koto, it showed just how desperate the Alit‘aren were.
They longed for a strong leader who could provide them with a goal other than destroying the
world. But what they also hoped for; was a leader who would provide them with immunity
from the new decree that outlawed male wielding. They were terrified of living in a world in
which all of their abilities were taken away from them. They saw it as the beginning of the
end of the world.
And they could be right about that, Adem thought to himself, Arawn making no reply.
Adem‘s sense of his Battle Angel was the usual brooding, descending into fire with a heart of
ice.  ―Take him to  the dungeons,‖ Adem commanded.  ―He will await  his trial and  meet his
fate  for  his betrayal. ‖ He did  not bother  to add that the punishment  would  mean death  for
El‘Koto. He was certain the madman knew it, and he thought it likely the man was too mad to
care.
For  the  next  few  hours  the  first  wave  of  soldiers  and  Ael  Tarael  secured  the  city,
relieving  the  guards  of  their  duty,  and  handing  the  protection  of  Auglem  Watch  over  to
Kelderath‘s forces. The crowns and jewellery that were stolen from his friends were returned
with apologies from the servants bearing them. Jean and Terese held the throne roo m while
Adem,  Carl  and  Wil  patrolled  the  city  streets  with  Hayley,  Orion  and  Tobin.  Lydia  and
Elmira also remained with Jean to see that order was restored within the keep. Servants and
guards would need to be informed of their new roles, in service to the   King of the Nordics
and  his armies. Adem  guessed that  Lady Elise Caravine would be appointed  head  ruler of
Auglem Watch in good time, until then it was up to Tobin to govern these lands.
Adem kept his hand hovering above his sword hilt as he strolled thro ugh the streets,
Carl pacing beside  him,  using  his red spear  like a  walking staff.  Wil  and Hayley  marched
behind, their eyes scanning in every direction like wolves on edge. Tobin and Orion marched
proudly, striding  with the  grace and  nobility  that only  two kings could  manage. Kelderath
was seen on  horseback  from time  to time, barking orders  at  his  lieutenants and  giving  the
impression of a man in charge. He would be brimming with confidence after the success of
the rescue. There were no casualties amongst  his forces, all wounds were Healed in time and
then they saw to Healing El‘Koto‘s forces. They would not let good men die if they could be
saved.  These  men  were  simply  servants  to  a  tyrant;  they  were  not  guilty  of  El‘Koto‘s
betrayal.
Adem felt sickened to  his stomach to remember the images of those men he had slain
with  the  Jade  Warriors.  He  had  told  himself  he  would  never  commit  such  an  act  again,
murdering men when there was a chance of avoiding it. But he had had little time to think,
the passageways were cramped and not suited to facing so many foes with his blade, and he
had reacted to save the lives of those men who served him faithfully. He tried to tell himself
that those deaths were justified, but all he saw was an increasing dark stain upon his so ul.
When  they  returned  to  the  throne  room,  Jean  and  the  other  women  had  found  a
number of other relics tucked away in chests that sparked his interest. One was a horn made
of pure silver with gold rings around the tip and base and a golden ram scrawled ac ross the
middle. On closer inspection, Adem sensed the presence of a Battle Angel using the horn as a
Resting  Point.  His  sense  of  the  spirit  told  him  it  was  a  male  Battle  Angel,  confirmed  by
Arawn through the kigare. It was the spirit of Balor Evil Eye, na med for the loss of his eye in
a battle against the Dark One. When  he summoned Balor, a ten feet tall  figure of  light and
shadows appeared, a man with a flowing white beard and moustaches of fire, glowing blue
armour and boots over a dark coat and trousers  of dark scales. He wore a conical helmet of
blue fire that surrounded the eyes—giving him the appearance of a great one- eyed owl—one
blue  fire, the other dark as  tar,  with  thick twisted bull  horns that were brown and ribbed,
rising out of the steel skull  cap. Balor gripped a massive double–bladed blue axe in his huge
palms,  holding  the  weapon  across  his  body  as  he  bowed  in  salute  to  Adem.  ―Balor  the
Invincible, Father of War, and Angel of the Underworld, I give greeting. I am one of the Sons
of Odin. We are  in  great  need of  your power to aid  us  in our struggles towards the  Great
Battle. Will you commit yourself to serve me, as my Battle Angel Guardian?‖ The titles he
gave  Balor  were  provided  by  Arawn.  Balor  grumbled  like  a  great  bear  for  some  time,
stroking   his  beard  before  he  replied,  ―I  will  commit  to  serve,  until  the  hour  of  your  last
breath, Son of Odin. The taint brings new laws to all races, new conditions that may become
our undoing. Before now, there were none I deemed worthy of my strength. I see th at you are
one of the Chosen however, a  fact that  is confirmed to  me by Arawn. It has been  many an
Age since the two of us fought side by side. I accept.‖ Balor spoke like a bear also, his voice
almost thunderous  like the Shadow Men. He then returned  to the silver  horn  in a cloud of
colour and a flare of white fire. Adem blinked, half dazed, and then tied the horn to his belt
loop. He could have offered for the Battle Angel to link to his Lukrorian Bow as a Resting
Point, though there were other Battle Ange ls amongst these relics, and he wished for at least
one more before the bickering was over.
The next hour was spent looking over the piles of treasure, seeking out the artefacts
that contained  more Battle Angels. Jean  found a small  stone statue  that  looke d  to be  made
from  ivory,  a  figurine  of  a  swan  with  wings  folded  back  as  if  floating  on  the  water.  The
trinket  fit neatly  into her belt pouch, and was  the Resting Point of Anwen—or Branwen as
she was known as the sister of Bran the Blessed—a seven feet tall  figure of emerald and aqua
fire in a shimmering gown and crimson armour. She wielded a staff like an untrimmed tree
branch with leaves of many colours at the tips and birds of fire nesting in the branches. Long
golden hair and large dark eyes, her skin was pale cream and her figure was quite voluptuous.
Jean said the correct words to request her service and the Great Angel accepted, transporting
herself  to  the  Resting  Point  of  Jean‘s  blue  glowing  sword.  She  kept  the  trinket  however;
perhaps she saw that it  had a use as another potential Resting Point. Though, Jean didn‘t find
another Battle Angel.
Carl  found  a  small  dagger  that  contained  the  spirit  of  Angus  Mac,  also  known  as
Oengus  Og.  The  Battle  Angel  was  dressed  in  dark  cloth  with  a  green- and- red  kilt,  silver
armour with snakes embossed across the chest and he wielded a staff of emerald light. Carl
explained that  Angus  was said  to be a  great Healer. Carl said  he  hoped  to  learn to  wield
Healing spells that spread outwards like a bubble, to restore health  and vitality to those who
fought around him. Adem thought this idea had great potential.
Wil found a ring of gold with a fat cut ruby that was the Resting Point for Bran the
Blessed,  sister  of  Anwen  and  brother  of  Angus.  It  didn‘t  seem  unusual  that  three  family
members  could  be  found  together  in  this  horde  of  relics.  Bran  was  eight  feet  tall,  dark
shoulder length hair with large blue eyes, skin of pale blue and mauve armour. He wielded a
shield of golden light and a broadsword of emerald flames. Bran was a lso known to be strong
in the magic of Healing.
Adem also found Llew Llaw Gyffes. The Battle Angel stood over twelve feet tall, a
figure of  muscular blue arms and  legs,  golden scaled armour that  glowed orange over  his
chest  and  torso,  his  hair  was  flowing  blue  fire  and  his  eyes  were  white  light.  He  wore  a
golden crowned  helmet that surrounded his eyes and jaw  like a  face  guard  with  long bison
horns moving out horizontal on either side of the skull. Llew wielded a long sword of blue
flames—over eight feet long —and carried a massive rectangular shield of red light. A cape of
blue  fire  flowed around  his  form  that was embroidered  with  gold patterns of  wolves.  The
gigantic figure towered above Adem as he spoke the words of request, ―Llew Llaw Gyffes,
Brother of  War, I request your service to me, one of the Sons of Odin, to carry out the duties
of a Battle Angel in the hope of victory over the Shadow.‖ Llew responded in deep rumbling
tones as  he  said,  ―The Sons of Odin are the key  to  victory over the Shadow at the   Great
Battle. I will gladly serve you until that end.‖ Adem then presented his blue enchanted bow
for the Battle Angel to use as a Resting Point. He had found Llew residing in a golden statue
that looked similar to the fat bellied, smiling Buddhist monk teachers most commonly known
as a Buddha statue. He wrapped the relic in dark cloth and had it sent to be stored with his
belongings.
The next six days were spent inside the walls of Auglem Watch while the forces that
had already  arrived  made camp around t he city. When the  full  force of  their army arrived
around  midday  on  the  sixth  day,  they  brought  the  thousands  of  farmer  warriors  who  had
served  El‘Koto  on  the  boundaries  of  Corsair.  The  farmer  warriors  looked  displeased  with
their position, though Adem sen t assurances to them that they were safe under the ruling of
the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of Thor. On the seventh day Jean declared Auglem Watch
secure, and she began to unleash her wrath against the two immortal kings, for their actions
during  their  escape.  Her  next  move  was  going  to  shake  the  foundations  of  everything
Kismeria held sacred.  
Chapter
3
The Death of Two Kings
Jean  called  to  order  an  official  trial  for  Tobin  Fireheart  and  Orion  Demonslayer.  Adem
thought the  move  was desperate  in an a ttempt  to  uphold  the  new  laws  that outlawed  male
wielding, though  he did  not argue  with  her decision. The trial  was  held  in one of the  large
pavilion  sized  tents  on  the  seventh  night  since  the  rescue.  Tobin  and  Orion  came  to  the
meeting  in  their  bright  silk  robes  and  dark  velvet  cloaks  lined  with  black- spotted  fox - fur.
They wore their jewelled crowns and their swords at their golden- medallion waist belts. They
looked every bit the kings they were, esteemed and glorious. Lydia and Elmira were equally
bright  in silk gowns and woollen cloaks, their jewellery bright in the lantern light.
They brought twelve Ael Tarael to stand as witnesses to the trial, seven dark coated
Alit‘aren also stood along the walls of the tent with hands clasped behind their backs. The y
all wore swords, their only weapons. The faces of those men were humbled when Jean began
to tear into Tobin and Orion for their crimes. Jean had also brought another twelve Ael Tarael
who would hold judgement over the two immortal kings. The women filled  most of the tent
space in their bright silks and glimmering jewels. All stood with the expressions of those who
wished to be anywhere other than here. The twelve Jean had appointed were all mortal Ael
Tarael,  Lydia  and  Elmira  had  brought  twelve  immortals.  ―We  stand  here  today  to  make
judgement over  Tobin Fireheart and Orion Demonslayer,  for breaking  the oath of the  new
decree that restricts all male wielders from touching  teron, except to weave shields of Air.‖
That was how Jean began the trial, followed by bringing forth witnesses who saw Tobin and
Orion  weaving  fire  and  lightning  to  destroy  mortal  men  inside  the  dungeons  of  Auglem
Watch. When Jean called forth Adem, he cringed at the thought of betraying either Jean, or
Tobin and Orion. Adem stepped forward to  wait  for questioning from Jean. Up till now all of
her witnesses had been very forthcoming in t heir admitting to seeing the  two kings wield the
Power. Adem wished to do something before Jean made the mistake of her life and ordered
that Tobin and Orion be severed from  teron. ―You were with Orion in the dungeons during
the escape?‖ Jean began in hard tones, to which Adem replied, ―I was.‖
―And did  you see Orion create weaves of Fire and Earth to kill  guards and soldiers
loyal to El‘Koto?‖
―I did,‖ Adem   admitted, feeling a sinking feeling in his heart after deciding he could
not betray Jean, especially when she needed his support in such an important decision. ―But
he acted with nobility, saving the lives of those loyal to us, including providing Healing  to me
when I was seriously injured. I think these men deserve partial forgiveness for their crimes,
and a  lighter  sentence.‖ Jean stared  into  his  eyes  like boring  holes  through  his skull  with
invisible flames as she admitted, ―I also witnessed such weaves   being performed by Tobin,
once it was even to save  my  life. I understand that to order these men be severed from  teron,
is an almost certain death sentence, and the great King of the Nordics, and the mighty King of
the  Torvellen,  will  fade  from  memory  in  the  minds  of  the  mortals,  becoming  a  myth  of
ancient days.
―Kismeria will be lost without strong leadership, but the new laws must be upheld, or
we will invite anarchy when we attempt to judge others more harshly. Do either of you have
anything to say bef ore judgement?‖ Tobin and Orion looked to one another, nervously, and
then Tobin said, ―I only  wished to save the  lives of  my wife and the Sons of Odin and the
Daughter of Thor.‖
―Do you have anything to add, Orion?‖ Jean asked with a raised brow.
―We were  ambushed,‖ Orion said furiously, ―all of our lives were at stake, the fate of
Kismeria!  We cannot be judged. We are the Immortal Kings of  Tarvel and Nordhel!  The
Power has been a part of our world since the First Age. We live to serve the Lord and now to
serve you, Daughter of Thor, and you would hold judgement over us for this service? They
took my wife! They could have killed her! If Elmira had died I would have gone to join the
rebel Alit‘aren. I  would  have  left the Sons of Odin and the Daughter of  Thor   to  fight their
own battles! I would have led an army of men who were still free to wield the Power!
―I  would  have  faced  the  Dark  One  at  the  Great  Battle,  using  the  gifts  that  were
granted  to our world! We  are  lost and  without  hope  if  the  Alit‘aren are re stricted  in their
wielding! The decree must be revoked!‖ He delivered the speech like a king, but also like a
man enraged, a man on the brink of sanity. Both of Jean‘s and also Terese‘s eyebrows rose
considerably during that speech, though Jean did not bac k down one bit as she said, ―I move
to pass judgement that the two immortal kings should lose their crowns and their land, their
kingdoms and their kingship, to become Guardians to serve as protectors to Lydia Everlight
and Elmira Goldenbraid, who will also lose their titles as a lesson for them that they should
keep a tighter rein on their husbands.‖ That pronouncement brought shocked murmurs from
almost everyone in the tent, Tobin and Orion staring with outraged faces, Lydia and Elmira
looking as if they  were about to faint in sheer disbelief. ―Who will stand with me, to enforce
this judgement?‖ Jean asked; her eyes still boring holes through Adem‘s skull. There was a
long silence, everyone‘s eyes fixed on him or Jean. He realised if he didn‘t speak up now , he
might  lose  her  forever, so  he  said,  ―I will  enforce  this judgement, as one of  the Chosen. I
offer my full support first and foremost, in the hope that it will sway others to agree with your
decision, Daughter of Thor.‖ That brought a slight smirk to her lips, and her eyes took on a
wicked new burning. He told himself he‘d made the right decision there.
Tobin  and  Orion  groaned,  both  knowing  his  move  would  hold  influence  over  the
others. Carl was next to offer support, followed by Hayley and Wil. That was the beginning
of  the cascade of  votes, as  hands began to rise and  the twelve  mortal  Ael  Tarael began to
speak saying, ―I will pass judgement!‖ Adem looked to the faces of the immortal kings and
queens after all twelve women had agreed, when Jean said, ―If the twelve immortal witnesses
will also agree, it will save these men from certain death, for if this cannot be agreed upon,
they shall be severed from the Power.‖ That brought the twelve immortal Ael Tarael around
to a forced full agreement to her decision. ―Then it is done.‖ Jean said coldly. ―I strip you of
your titles and  your  land,  you are  no  longer king or queen of any  land, and  you  have  no
homes and no fortune. Your coffers will be given to the armies of the Chosen. Your kingdom
shall bar its doors to your arrival and you shall never set foot in its halls ever again, unless
under the supervision of the Sons of Odin or the Daughter of Thor.‖ That brought exasperated
sighs  from  Lydia and  Elmira,  Tobin and Orion  looked as  if  Jean  had  fired crossbow bo lts
through their hearts. But Jean wasn‘t finished yet.
―You will  no  longer  lead armies and  you  will  no  longer  give commands. You shall
serve  your Ael  Tarael wives  as  Guardians to protect  their  lives as they  uphold  justice.  As
Guardians you shall be allowed to touch  teron, once a week, to practice  forming shields of
Air. If I  learn that either of you  have  touched  teron  to use another other weave,  from  now
until the Great Battle, you shall be severed!‖ Her tone was cold as ice, though her eyes still
burnt with fury. ―Strip these men and women of their crowns and their jewellery. They are no
longer nobility, they are common folk. You shall not look upon them with awe any longer.
You will watch them  like  hawks  for the chance of  conspiracy, and  you shall only a ddress
them by their true titles, Tobin Fireheart, Lydia Everlight, Orion  Demonslayer, and Elmira
Goldenbraid.‖ Those last remarks brought glimmers of forgiveness in the eyes of the four she
had passed judgement over. She had shown enough mercy to allow them to keep their names
of legend. Most would have still regarded them as such, and most would have addressed them
by such titles if Jean wasn‘t in earshot, though these new rules she pronounced would see that
they avoided such  honouring  if they knew Jean  would  find out about  it.  In a  few  minutes,
Jean had destroyed two nations, broken two kingdoms and left them without rulers.
―This will fuel a war of succession.‖ Lydia said, with hardness to her tone. ―Kismeria
will be bathed in bloodshed, the lands will  become as they were during the Immortal Wars,
when famine, disease, pestilence and war plagued this world. You will be responsible for this,
Jean Fairsythe. It was your decision to make, and you Carl Wilder, for inventing the decree.‖
Those  words sounded  like a  judgement of  her own, though Jean simply replied,  ―The  new
laws must be enforced, and an example had to be made.‖
Adem glanced back at Carl and Wil over his shoulders; they both looked as perplexed
as  the  former  kings  and  queens.  Hayley  wore  that  sly  look  to  her  eyes,  though  she  also
appeared  deep  in  thought,  and  equally  concerned.  The  Ael  Tarael  then  began  to  parade
around the  four  who  were judged,  stripping  them of  their crowns and jewellery.  Jean  told
them they may work or trade for new jewels, though they were never to wear a crown again.
They were allowed to keep their clothing on for the sake of modesty, though Tobin and Orion
were told that they would only wear Alit‘aren black or the  ghoda’sidhe   or  torin’sidhe  from
now onwards. ―You are Guardia ns to your Ael Tarael,‖ Jean told them. ―You shall no longer
wear the finery of a nobleman; you will always wear the garb of warriors.‖ Tobin and Orion
bowed their  heads slightly as a sign of obedience. She  had spared  them  some  honour and
hope of redemptio n.
***
Orion left the trial with Tobin at his side and Lydia and Elmira close behind. Neither of their
wives  discussed  the  judgement  further  with  the  twelve  Ael  Tarael  they  had  brought  as
witnesses. The decision was made, the word of the White Snow Fox was a law higher than
any king or queen, and she  was one of the Chosen, one of the Saviours of Kismeria. With
Adem Highlander‘s support, his fate was sealed. He could not turn against them, nor would
he ever  leave their side, but right now he wanted to tear  out Carl Wilder‘s hair  for  making
that decree. His rage towards Jean Fairsythe was subdued by the honour she allowed them to
serve as Guardians to their wives, as well as affording them the life force of the Power, rather
than the alternative that was certain death. He considered  himself  lucky to be a king, whe n
facing the wrath of Jean Fairsythe.
No other male wielder would have such a buffer to escape being severed from  teron.
He would  never command an army ever again,  never sit on his  gilded throne  in  h is Royal
Throne Room at Tarvel, never order servants to do his bidding, or give commands in combat.
He had lost everything that defined him in the wake of that wrath. Though, No!—He was still
so  much  more than  just a king,  he was a Master of  the  Blade, an  expert battle tactician, a
great hunter and tracker, a resourceful man, a man who loved his wife.
When they arrived at  their tent Lydia walked  in behind Elmira, saying at the top of
her voice, ―I will smother that little tart in her sleep! How dare she ma ke judgement over the
Immortal Kings and Queens! I will demand a retrial! I will gather armies to support you until
she is forced to give us back our titles and our kingdoms! The sheer nerve of that girl, to try
to bully us because of one stupid rule being   broken in a life or death situation! Aggghhh! I
would have scratched out her eyeballs if she was anyone other than the White bloody Snow
Fox!‖ That put Tobin‘s eyebrows higher than usual, his wife had a temper, but Elmira put an
invisible dagger  through O rion‘s own  heart  when  she said,  ―Well  my argument  isn‘t with
Jean Fairsythe. I see a husband here before me who has lost his kingdom, his loyal subjects,
his gold and jewels, his horses, his farms and estates, his crown and the horse he rode in on,
just to  burn  up a  few bloody  victims of  his wrath!  You  must have been out of  your  mind!
Jean  was  forced  to  uphold  the  law!‖   Then  Elmira  looked  to  Lydia,  touching  her  on  the
shoulder as she said, ―Jean spared their lives, Lydia. For allowing us to keep our husbands for
eternity, you must forgive Jean, Lydia, you must forgive her now.‖
Lydia gave out a deep sigh, her head drooping before she replied, ―Elmira is right, I
do forgive Jean, she was only doing her duty. If the laws were not enforced for the immortal
kings,  how  would  it  be  fair  to  punish  others  for  doing  the  same?  The  laws  must  be  just,
gentlemen.  You  both  somehow  seemed  to  forget  that.  I  will  discuss  this  with  you  further
when we are alone husband, and you shall know  my  wrath at that time.‖ Her eyes wer e fixed
on Tobin at the last, a burning fury in her gaze. Elmira also fumed as she stared at Orion and
said, ―I am not finished with you either, Orion the Dethroned!‖
Adem arrived later to report that Jean was allowing them to keep their large pavilion
style tents. That also brought sighs of relief from both women, they had lost their luxury so
suddenly  they  must be  grateful  for  anything they were  given.  They were shocked to their
cores, but still grateful.
―I  wondered  if  you  gentlemen  would  like  to  discuss  the  rebel  Alit‘aren  problem,‖
Adem  suggested  as  he  stepped  further  into  the  tent.  Elmira  and  Lydia  were  seated  on
cushioned  chairs  when  Adem was standing  in  front of  the  large  map covered desk where
Tobin and Orion were standing  in an attempt to put a b arrier between themselves and their
wives.
Adem‘s  willingness to discuss  the rebel problem  was a  new development; prior to
their imprisonment he had been considerably reclusive whenever Orion brought up the issue.
Orion knew it was a tactic, he was certain  Adem was planning something with the rebels. He
had already learnt that Torin Modrellock was sending messages to Adem. Orion was anxious
to discover the nature of those messages.
―Anything we say on the subject of the rebels will be stricken from the rec ord if Jean
Fairsythe  learns  of  it.‖  Tobin  said  irritably.  ―We  are  no  longer  the  leaders  of  Tarvel  and
Nordhel. We  have  no armies to command,  no resources, and so  we have nothing to offer.‖
Lydia began to glare at her husband during that statement, and the n she said, ―You still have
your wits, dear husband. You will discuss the rebel problem with Adem Highlander to keep
your  mind distracted over the coming  weeks.‖  Elmira  flashed a  glare at Orion before she
added,  ―You  shall  also  work  with  Adem  Highlander  to   dissolve  the  division  between  our
armies. If  the rebel  Alit‘aren cannot be commanded to  heel, the  future  looks  very bleak.‖
Adem waited patiently for them to finish before he said, ―Yes, you still have the knowledge
of two great kings, you are experts of  war and negotiation, and you still have great worth in
my opinion.‖
―Why  did  you  side  with  Jean  Fairsythe?‖  Orion  asked  Adem  in  cold  tones.  Adem
bowed his head slightly, looking at his boots, before he replied, ―I would have thought that
answer would be ob vious. Jean is my heart. I love her more than anything. I couldn‘t let her
stand alone and pronounce  judgement over  you  two.  I  had to  show  my  full support  in  her
decision.‖ Then he looked up to stare Orion in the eyes as he said, ―But I am truly sorry for
your situation, and I will do what I can to restore you to your rightful places in this world.‖
―Forget it,‖ Orion said. ―You did what you had to do. My place now is beside my wife
as her Guardian. I cannot see any  further  into the future other than  my des ire to do well  in
that role.‖ That brought him a smile from Elmira, a sweeter fire kindled in her big blue eyes.
―Yes,‖ Adem agreed, ―though if you could still serve one of the Chosen and influence
his decisions,  you would still  have  great sway over the  future,  wouldn‘t  you?‖ Now Orion
saw Adem‘s angle clearly, he wished to utilise Orion‘s and Tobin‘s skills while keeping the
source of his knowledge from Jean. It could work. There was still much to be done before the
Great Battle. Nations needed to be united, war had to end, and the people  had to turn their
focus to defeating the Dark One.  
―What would  you ask of  us,‖ Orion asked probingly,  ―if  we were to agree to  these
terms?‖
―I  ask  for  nothing  in  return.‖  Adem  said  innocently.  ―I  still  see  the  worth  of  your
minds, and I  foresee  great things  for the both of  you,  if  you agree to become  my advisors.
Jean will learn of it soon enough, but I am a Son of Odin, I have the right to choose whoever
I wish to advise me in my decisions. She may argue, and perhaps tur n cold, but I agreed with
her when it mattered, now it‘s my turn to make a few heads spin.‖
―What do you have planned?‖ Orion asked; which brought a sly grin to Adem‘s face.
***
Jean stood  in  her tent behind  the  large carved desk  that was covered  in  large   maps of  the
surrounding territories. Terese stood on the opposite side of the desk, her arms crossed under
her breasts. Terese wore a deep green woollen coat that was so long it served as a short skirt
with a brown leather belt around her waist, blue stockings and navy blue boots. Jean wore a
crimson silk coat with black buttons, a matching skirt embroidered with black  foxes across
the hem, golden silk stockings and red leather boots. They were the outfits they‘d worn to the
trial;  Terese‘s  simple  and  humb le  while  Jean‘s  outfit  radiated  the  presence  of  one  of  the
Chosen.
―I still think there had to be some other way to deal with them,‖ Terese said irritably.
―To lose the Immortal Kings of Nordhel and Tarvel is a nightmare in the making. Lydia was
right abo ut a Succession War. Tobin‘s three sons will move to claim the throne at Nordhel,
perhaps  leaving  the  Green  Border  undefended  when  they  begin  to  bicker  amongst
themselves. Torvis could fall into civil war as the immortal lords and ladies gather armies to
support their claim to the throne. I respect the decision you‘ve made Jean, but I don‘t like it
one bit.‖
―I  had  to  make  an  example  of  them.‖  Jean  said  calmly.  ―Word  will  spread  like
wildfire that even the immortal kings aren‘t safe from the new decree. The ir punishment fit
the crime in my opinion; their suffering will be the dues they will pay for their own decisions.
I had to do it, Terese, I saw no other way.‖
―Yes,‖ Terese agreed, ―but you should have discussed this move with me first, Jean. I
am your ad visor as well as your protector. I have great knowledge in negotiations like these. I
think I could have found a better solution.‖
―What‘s done  is done.‖ Jean said.  ―I  have allowed Tobin‘s sons to keep their royal
titles, and  to  make their claim to  the throne,  I could  have  stripped them of their  lands and
kingdoms also to drive my point home.‖
―Well  you  made the right decision  there,‖  Terese said.  ―Tobin‘s sons are  good  men
from what I hear, two are great warriors, courageous but proud. They will surely contest one
another for the claim to the throne, and there may be others who would wish to usurp their
claims to place themselves on the throne. I predict great wars. Jean, what have you done?‖
―At  least  Adem  supported  me,‖  Jean  said  defiantly.  ―If  he  hadn‘t,   well  .  .  .  he
would‘ve  found no comfort  in  my presence. The  fact  that  he did support  me shows  he  has
some  sanity  left.  I  expect  you  to  show  the  same  level  of  support  in  all  of  my  decisions,
Terese, whether I advise you about them first or not.‖ Terese gave out a deep sigh, her large
dark eyes filled with challenge that dissipated to regret as she said, ―I tried to make you very
strong,  Jean  Fairsythe.  Perhaps  I  made  you  too  strong.  You  were  hard  as  nails  in  your
judgement this evening, it was more than I c ould‘ve ever expected of you.‖
―Well,‖ Jean said, ―maybe now Lydia and Elmira will keep their husbands in line, and
those that wish  to break  the  new  laws will remember the punishment of Orion and  Tobin,
former Kings of Nordhel and Tarvel.‖
―I think you‘re  right, Jean,‖ Terese agreed. ―To allow those two to get away with it
would‘ve been a terrible mistake. You made a fine example of them, and their wives. They
will forgive you in time, I‘m certain of that. You allowed them to keep their names of legend
and  afforded them great honour as Servants of the Light. They will appreciate that once they
earn some status points through their good deeds.‖
―Yes,‖ Jean said. ―Now, should we discuss the problem of the rebel Alit‘aren?‖
―What do you have in mind?‖ Terese asked; which brought a smile to Jean‘s lips.
***
―We seek them out,‖ Adem  instructed,  ―find  where they‘re based and arrange peace talks
with their leaders.‖
―Rodriel  Tarz  holds  sway  over  the  rebels,‖  Orion  said,  ―and  he  visits  the  camp
regularly. Why would  it be necessary to seek them out?‖
―Tarz holds influence,‖ Adem said, ―but he is not their leader.‖
―How do you know this?‖ Tobin asked.
―I  have  eyes  and  ears  within  the  rebel  camp.‖  Adem  admitted;  he  was  aware  that
Orion and Tobin had already learnt of his correspondence with Torin.
―Who leads them?‖ Orion asked.
―Brolen Aeldur,‖ Adem replied.
―The Grey Bear,‖ Orion remarked. ―He will not be easily bargained with. I‘ve known
Brolen  since  he  was  a  young  Gai‘den,  he  was  always  stubborn,  even  as  a  lad,  now  he  is
known as the Bear because that‘s exactly what he resembles when he‘s backed into a corner.‖
―Scouts last reported that the rebels were headed west.‖ Tobin said.
―My intelligence suggests otherwise.‖ Adem replied. ―I have recently received word
that t hey have used one of the Travelling Gates to make their way to the Green Border.‖ The
letter was handed to him by the young Rohan two days ago, the boy travelling at great speeds
on an altherin  horse to deliver the message. ―I suggest we send scouts to the   Green Border to
confirm this information, and then we travel to the Border Kingdoms to meet with them and
decide our fate.‖
―Do you know which Border Kingdoms they will seek out for refuge?‖ Tobin asked.
―I sent a reply message confirming the events of the trial just before I arrived.‖ Adem
said.  ―The  messenger knows where they‘re  headed, and  he  will  meet with  them  soon. My
guess is that they will use the knowledge of a Succession War to influence your three sons,
Tobin, to guide one of them towards the throne, in the hope of having the decree revoked.‖
―That sounds the most likely,‖ Tobin agreed. ―What say you, Orion?‖ 
―I agree,‖ Orion said.  ―Your plan  has  merit, Adem  Highlander. Will  you order  the
scouts to be sent immediately?‖
―Yes,‖ Adem said, ―to all of the Border Kingdoms in case they choose another.‖
―What of the spread of revolution we were supposed to stamp out?‖ Tobin asked.
―The  changes  to  the  decree  will  influence  most  Alit‘aren  to  obey  the  new  laws.‖
Adem  replied.  ―This  should  appease  the  farme r  armies  to  some  degree,  and  perhaps  the
spread of revolution will be slowed by this. I know we must unite the nations, but we cannot
allow an army of rabid wolves wielding teron  without restriction.‖
Guardians were then called into the tent to deliver the  message to the scouts. The two
immortal  Guardians  wore  wooden  bows  at  their  backs,  no  longer  wielding  the  enchanted
style. Tobin and Orion had also given up their Lukrorian Bows to be replaced with a blue and
a green one of plain wood, both worked with go ld and silver lines, the two weapons leaning
against chairs on either side of the desk. Orion  then changed behind the screen to don  the
dark  coat  and  trousers  of  an  Alit‘aren.  Tobin  and  Lydia  left  for  a  while,  and  when  they
returned Tobin was wearing the  t orin’sidhe  camouflage coat and trousers of greens, browns
and greys. They were no longer kings; they were ordinary men, even though their immortal
blood still made them extraordinary.
―There is something else we must do when we reach the Borderlands.‖ Orion said to
Adem. ―I had planned to delay this move, but if we are to face the rebels it will be necessary.
There  is an ancient power that  resides on the Green  Border,  where we  must seek out  the
Stairs of Odin. This staircase of enchanted stone is a moving  platform, never residing in the
same place for more than a few days. They say that to find the Stairs of Odin again, the Blue
Water  Dragon  must  search  with  a  just  cause.  That  staircase  is  a  doorway  to  another
dimension.‖
―What lies within that dimension?‖ Adem asked eagerly.
―An ancient form of the Power,‖ Orion explained. ―It is known as the Heart of Odin.‖
―What does it do?‖ Adem asked.
―It will show you your destiny, Adem Highlander.‖
***
―We defeat them with force,‖ Jean said harshly, ―and drive them  into the sea if need be. The
rebels are a problem we must face sooner or later. Adem will try to reason with them, but I
will not stick my hand in the mouth of a pack of rabid wolves. We will hunt them down, find
out their weaknesses, and then  use that to  force them  into submission or we will annihilate
them.‖
―Perhaps reasoning with them first would be a safer plan.‖ Terese suggested.
―I have already tried that,‖ Jean snapped, ―and Tarz was stubborn as a charging blind
bull!  We  must  make  them  realise  that  we  will  not  accept  their  rebellion.  They  must  be
crushed by whatever means necessary to cut them out of the picture.‖
―What if they can be brought to heel?‖ Terese asked, her face glowing in the lantern
light, her eyes sparkling like dark gems. 
―That would  be a  miracle!‖  Jean shouted  in exasperation.  ―I  have  looked  for other
options ever since the division began, but I am running out of feasible ideas. They must be
stopped before they turn into evil madmen who will turn these lands into a sea of lightning
and fire!‖
Chapter
4
To Find the Source
Carl sat  in  his  tent, a square  lantern  glowing on  the desktop over a  large  map of the three
Immortal Borderland Kingdoms and its territories. He listened carefully as Adem sat across
from him, explaining his plan   to deal with the rebel Alit‘aren, and his aim to go in search of
this thing he called the Heart of Odin. Adem was sketchy about exactly what the Heart was,
or what it did, which intrigued Carl in regards to whether or not Adem actually even knew
what it was. The fact that it was very important was made clear by Adem however, and the
possibility that it was vital to their hopes of victory over the Shadow.
―Turin is Prince of Orodhel,‖ Carl said as he gazed at that point on the map. ―Artur is
Prince  of  Kare ldon,  and  Lune  is  Prince  of  Korhad,  the  three  immortal  sons  of  Tobin
Fireheart. They control the northern half of the Green Border, its armies and its people, and
you think this will be the target of the rebels. To what aim?‖
―I already explained that part,‖ Adem said in frustration, his symptoms beginning to
emerge.  ―The rebels will  hope to raise a  new king  who will outlaw  the new decree,  giving
them the rights to wield any element they choose, whenever they wish to.‖
―So you suggest we get to those three Princes first?‖ Carl asked.
―I  suggest we  head  for  the Borderlands to  seek out  the  Heart of Odin.‖  Adem said
simply.  ―While we are there  it  is  most  likely  we  will  run  into the rebel army as  they  are
already there, as I mentioned already.‖ Adem‘s brow was furrowed with tension.
―Did you take your Healing twice today?‖ Carl asked to change the subject. He was
still very concerned about Adem‘s illness and the way it seemed to increase every day.
―Only once this  morning,‖ Adem admitted, raising  his  hands to  rub   the sides of his
temples.
―Are you suffering from another headache?‖ Carl asked calmly.
―They‘re  getting  worse,‖ Adem  replied  with  his eyes closed.  ―Sometimes they  last
from wake till sleep. I feel like I‘m alone in this war, Carl, like I‘m the only one w ho gives a
damn.‖
―Jean certainly gave a damn when she cast down two Immortal Kings and Queens.‖
Carl said. ―I care too, Adem, but my concern for you is foremost when there are no signs of
danger other than that concern.‖
―I‘m fine,‖ he said, still rubbing  his temples. ―I‘m just worried about Jean, about us,
about everyone. I feel a mountain of responsibility weighed on my shoulders; everyone looks
to me for leadership. I can‘t imagine myself living the same life I did back   home, that person
I once was is  n ow only a faded and distant memory. But sometimes I wish to return to that
simplicity, do you understand?‖
―I know exactly  what you  mean.‖ Carl agreed.  ―But  we are  here,  we  have our duty
and we must succeed.‖ That brought a smile to Adem‘s lips, he would‘ve been proud to hear
Carl speak in such a way. Up till now Carl had dodged that responsibility like a flying bullet;
he felt it was time he owned up to it. ―In regards to our search for this Heart of Odin, I agree
it is pivotal to our cause. We will leave  a substantial force here and we will mobilise for the
Green Border as soon as possible.‖
―Thank you,‖ Adem said, still smiling. ―I‘m glad you don‘t want to argue this time.‖
―You said the Blue Water Dragon must search with a just cause?‖ Carl asked.
―Those  were  Orion‘s  words,‖  Adem  said,  ―though  I  don‘t  understand  its  meaning.
Don‘t we already stand for the ultimate cause, the preservation of all life on Kismeria?‖
―It could be cryptic,‖ Carl added, ―or meant to be interpreted literally. Perhaps it will
unravel when we begin our search. To find the source of this power, you must begin a truly
just cause.‖
***
Wil  lay across  from  his  wife on their crimson silk sheets and pillow cases. A  light  mauve
blanket  was spread over the top as the  nights were  getting w armer. Change  in temperature
didn‘t  seem  to  bother  Hayley  much  though;  she  already  showed  signs  of  the  training  to
become a true Ael Tarael. Her passion in the bedroom hadn‘t altered much since her changes,
though she was  much stronger  now, so  much so that  she had  to be gentle  to avoid  hurting
him.  He closed  his eyes  and saw a  great  shield of  golden  fire, embossed with carvings of
kings and queens, animals and beasts,  it was the afterglow of  making  love  to his wife that
gave  him such  images,  it was  a  feeling beyond  imagining, the satisfaction of a  heightened
reality.
Hayley was snoring soundly, something she would do on occasion, though he found it
endearing. She was still so cute, so youthful and innocent, so sweet it was almost sickly. But
the new sly kno wing in her eyes and smile always gave him grave concerns. What if Carl‘s
spell over her began to weaken; and she began to crave human blood, or became monstrous
in appearance? What if the darkness of her curse began to creep into her human soul? He had
th ought over those  issues  many times during  the  hours  he  lay  awake  listening to  her slow
breathing while she slept. He tried to stay  awake  until daylight  to ensure  no Nightwalkers
entered her tent to attempt another assassination. Sometimes he drifted off at  first light, other
times the tiredness took  him  before then, but  he always  woke to see  her sitting  up  in bed
reading a book or swallowing a goblet full of blood for breakfast. His heart still ached over
what had been done to her, her situation was a curse, though there was hope that she would
survive until his return to Kismeria. It was a blessing; he had to believe that, there seemed to
be no other way.
Perhaps  it  was  her  fate,  he  thought  to  himself.  To  his  complete  shock,  Dis  Pater
offered seemingly sympathetic words as he sent;  You will both be the stronger for it, Son of
Odin. Wil reached down to grasp the hilt of his double bladed axe that glowed brighter gold
when  he  held  it  up  above  his  face.  His  awareness  of  his  Battle  Angels  increased  while
holding the enchanted weapon,  he sensed the  familiar brooding  in a vortex of  fire that was
most common for Dis Pater‘s moods. His sense of Bran was that he was bathed in a sea of
flames,  though  that  other  Battle  Angel  had  offered  no  communication  through  the  kigare
since joining with him.
Will  she  survive?  He  asked  Dis  Pater,  followed  by  a  long  pause  before  his  Battle
Angel  replied;  I  do  not  have  the  gift  of  foreseeing  the  future,  Son  of  Odin.  Though,  her
chances are improved. As a result of their shared thoughts for so much time, Dis Pater began
to speak like a modern day Earth man, and Wil learnt many words, names, strategies, spells
and customs of the Old Ways. In a way he felt like two people now, the old Wil Martyr of
Earth,  and  the  new  Wil  Martyr  of  Kismeria,  with  memories  of  the  lives  of  countless
immortals throughout the history of this strange new land.
The new Wil of Kismeria wasn‘t all of those men as his new self however; he was
one  man  with  all  of  those  memories  and  abilities  collected  into  the  one  living  shell.
Sometimes he had dreams of those memories, and sometimes he even had flash memories of
those lives while he was awake, and he felt he was that person at that time, because he lived
through their experiences as they had recorded them with their   five senses. But he was always
himself  too,  now  more  than ever. He would  never wish  to be anywhere other  than by  his
wife‘s side, from now until death. He would never hope for anything more than this—
Shouts were heard outside the tent‘s entrance, his Guardians were alerted to danger. A
horn  sounded,  so  close  it  had  to  be  one  of  those  who  guarded  his  tent.  Lightning  flared
through the tent walls, thick bolts from both sides, turning night into day! Hayley was awake
in a flash, sitting upright with a startled expression in her big dark eyes.
―What is going on, Wil?‖ She cried. ―Are we in danger?‖
―Get  dressed  and  armoured  quickly,‖  he  said  as  he  leaped  off  the  bed  while  still
clutching his golden axe. ―I‘ll assess the danger and we will decide whether to sta y here or
start running.‖ He quickly threw on a dark navy woollen coat and black trousers with knee
high brown leather boots, the clothes he‘d stripped out of earlier that lay beside the bed. He
strapped  his bow to  his chest and  glanced at  Hayley stepping  out  from behind  the screen
wearing a dark emerald dress with divided woollen skirts, a golden belt of medallions and her
ruby necklace.
Horns had continued to sound in the distance during that time, along with more shouts
and bolts of blue lightning in the sky. Robin Longbow entered the tent in the dark cloth and
emerald mask and gauntlets of the ghoda’sidhe.
―Forgive my delay, Wil Martyr,‖ the immortal Guardian said in deep tones, ―we were
ambushed  by  Nightwalkers  and  had  to  unleash  arrows  to  take  them  do wn.  It  looks  like
another attempt like the last at Charkel. There are vampires all over the sky this time, enough
to  create  serious  problems  if  they  aren‘t  dealt  with  swiftly.‖  Wil  glanced  back  over  his
shoulder to see Hayley in crimson armour and equipped   with her bow and sword. He wanted
to don some armour of his own, the kind that most blades couldn‘t cut through, but there was
no time! The shouts of the other Guardians outside his tent told him the Nightwalkers hadn‘t
finished  trying  to  infiltrate  and  likely  kill  him  and  his  wife.  He  held  out  his  hand  which
Hayley rushed to clasp, and then they followed Robin out of the tent and into the night.
***
Adem heard the shouts of Guardians outside moments before he saw lightning flare in the sky
around his te nt. He and Carl stood and began to gather their weapons, as Morek Cinderblast
entered to report the Nightwalker attack. Morek wore the  torin’sidhe  with his blue- and- gold
worked  wooden bow  gripped  in  his right  fist. The dark  haired  Guardian  wore a  hardened
expression with concern in his large dark Torvellen eyes.
―There are  more this time than  there  was  in  the  last attack,‖ the  man reported as  if
stating that he liked long walks. ―The Guardians have formed a perimeter around your tent.
We await your leadership, Sons of Odin.‖ Adem had his horn attached to his waist belt; he
quickly buckled on his bow and reached for his sword. He drew the blade that glowed pale
blue. Carl reached for his crimson spear that housed the spirit of Math Mathonwy.
―We must get to  Jean first.‖ Adem insisted.
―Lead the way,‖ Carl said as they stepped out into the scene of chaos. Vampires filled
the skies; there  must  have been  thousands of them.  The advantage of killing  vampires  was
that  they  were  the  only  humans  to  contain  ki’mera  orbs.  Adem  shouted,  ―Arawn!  Llew!
Balor!‖ Carl  shouted,  ―Angus! Math  Mathonwy!‖ Bright  fires erupted around their  forms,
filling Adem‘s vision.
Llew Llaw  Gyffes appeared, standing twelve- feet- tall, a shimmering blue apparition
in armour of  golden  scales, his  massive shield and sword of  flames  held aloft as  he sliced
through the bodies of  flying  vampires. A pack of Spirit Wolves burst  from the  form of  the
Battle  Angel, pony- sized beasts  formed of blue  fire that charged along the  ground, pulling
down vampires and biting off skulls.
Balor  appeared,  a  ten  feet  tall  spectre  with  wings  of  blue  flames,  his  armour  and
helmet shimmering. He flew through the sky in a white flare, his massive blue axe hacking
through  vampire  skulls and torsos  so  fast  it took  Adem some  time to recognise the effect.
Balor flew from one vampire to another, then through three more, all in the blink of an eye, a
blaze  of  light  in  unison  with  the  sound  of  steel  hacking  through  bone,  each  time  the  axe
cleaved their Nightwalker flesh.
Arawn appeared at the same time and mimicked this action of Balor‘s. Arawn‘s wings
were red flames and his sword of fire lanced through the sky so fast it blurred Adem‘s vision.
Math  Mathonwy  copied  them  also,  his  cape  of  blood  red  fire  also  becoming  wings  as  he
s liced through the heavens with the Hellfire Spear.
The Battle Angel‘s Shadow Hounds also covered the land, as did Arawn‘s Fire Lions.
Ki’mera  orbs flowed towards Adem and Carl until their vision was again awash with every
colour  of  the  rainbow.  The  ki’mera  increased  Adem‘s  strength  and  vitality,  and  when  he
sheathed  his  blade  he  drew  his  Lukrorian  Bow  to  unleash  a  stream  of  blue  arrows  at  the
vampires  that  filled  the  sky.  Carl  released  bolts  of  red  lightning  that  blasted  groups  of
vampires out of the sky.  Adem thought he might try to match him, so he began to weave Fire
to bring lightning from the heavens.
Angus also  hovered close to Carl, as a  looming  spectre of  light and shadows. Carl
used the Battle  Angel to cast a spell  that expanded  to surround  Adem a nd  the  Guardians,
rejuvenating their spirits with weaves similar to Healing. Adem felt a stronger charge of  teron
fill his veins, the taint riding that pure fire like dark acid. His lightning bolts spread in more
intricate patterns through the sky, tearing   holes through dozens of vampire bodies in a flicker
of blue  flames. It seemed the spell  had  increased Carl‘s  hold on the Power also, as  his red
lightning  also  increased  in distance and  intensity, knocking  twenty Nightwalkers out of the
sky in a heartbeat.
Adem  unleashed  a  few  more  arrows  of  blue  flame  from  his  bow—all  hitting  their
targets due to  his enhanced  vision —when he sent  to Arawn,  Take me to Jean, now!   There
was  no  need to  inform Carl of  his destination, as Carl could simply tell one of  his Battle
Angels to  follow Arawn. The ten  feet tall spectre of scaled black armour and rune - covered
steel - skull - mask swooped down out of the sky; lifting Adem over twenty feet off the ground.
When Arawn set him down on the soft green field close to Jean‘s tent, he  looked back to see
Carl  being  carried  by  Math  Mathonwy,  burning  wings  like  some  massive  crimson  eagle
clutching him in its claws.
Llew  appeared  out  of  thin  air,  the  twelve  feet  tall  figure  must  have  the  ability  to
teleport  himself!  Adem  wondered  at  the  p ossibilities  there.  Llew  swung  his  blade  of  fire
through the air, hacking into any vampires within his reach, his blue wolves of fire launching
out of his form to attack on the ground. Arawn and Math Mathonwy returned to the skies like
comets  moving  in all  directions,  hacking  vampires  in  half with each point of  impact. Soon
Balor could be seen amongst them too, his blue wings and axe apparent in the dark night sky
despite his incredible speed.
Jean was standing outside her tent, dressed in the crimson coat  and skirt she‘d worn to
the trial. Terese stood beside  her with  her silver blade shining. Jean  held her emerald bow,
firing arrows of green flame at the circling vampires above. Tanriel hovered some twenty feet
above her, wings of blue flames with crimson armour and an emerald skirt. The Battle Angel
unleashed crimson spears that flew outwards from every point of her form like spokes flying
off a wheel.  The spears hit a  target every  time, punching through the chest or  torso of  the
vampires,  and  releasing  webs  of  blue  lightning  that  struck  others  flying  nearby.  Tanriel
appeared to be Linked with Jean‘s new Battle Angel, Anwen, who stood beside Jean holding
an emerald tree staff, and hawks of red, yellow and orange flames flew from the branches of
the staff, hundreds of the Fire Hawks that soared into the darkness above to tear at the faces
of  the  vampires  with  large  hooked  claws.  Sometimes  those  Fire  Hawks  punched  straight
through the chests of the Nightwalkers  in a  flash of  light,  which destroyed the  vampire  but
the Hawk also vanished after the killing strike.
Eight Guardians also surrounded Jean and there were dozens  more  in a wider circle
and around her tent. It seemed Terese had her well guarded at all times since the first attempt
on Jean‘s life.
Math Mathonwy‘s Shadow Hounds and Arawn‘s Fire Lions began to charge through
the  rows  of  tents,  tearing  down  vampires  and  biting  off  their  skulls  or  shredding  through
armour and flesh with massive claws. Ki’mera  continued to fountain towards Adem, Carl and
Jean,  though Adem was worried his Battle Angels would tire too soon. He unleashed a blur of
blue  arrows  at  the  flying  targets,  also  sending  lightning  that  tore  through  vampire  hearts
before those cursed men plummeted to the earth.
End of Free Sample of Books One to
Three of Sons of Odin: Collector‘s Edition
The entire book is now on pre-order at
Smashwords. Scheduled for release on
28.08.17.
Kind regards,
L. A. Hammer