by Brian Murray
***
The Divine One felt a tremor in the land’s magic—Her magic. She knew what it was—She had felt it before. Again, She would have to face Her nemesis but this time the future remained unclear; the Paths of Time were shrouded with uncertainty. One thing She did know, this time the Dark One was more powerful than he ever had been. She would not be able to defeat him on Her own, yet She had to act—and act quickly. The Divine One would need the help from Her mortal protectors, the Children of the Light, and Her champion. She could only hope he would give Her his loyalty and come to Her aid again.
***
“Welcome, my master,” repeated the Darklord, meeting the Dark One in person for the first time.
“You have done well Naats, my friend,” boomed the Dark One, his voice echoing like rumbling thunder around the room.
“I live to serve you.”
“Is all in hand?”
“All has been prepared,” answered the Darklord as Malice entered the room with his eyes glowing red with joy. He walked up to the Dark One and knelt on one knee. Removing his helm, the warrior leaned forward and kissed the Blade of Yallas. In its sheath, the blue crystal embedded in the hilt of his own sword started to pulsate with renewed brightness.
“Malice, my friend, it is good to be back,” said the Dark One.
“Welcome, master. It is good to see you.”
“And you. Now rise.”
Reaching for his helm, Malice smoothly rose to his feet. He was the same size and build as the Dark One, the only difference being their armour: one set in gleaming silver, the other the deepest matt-black.
“Is all ready?” asked the Dark One.
“All is ready, my lord.”
“I sense something is not as it should be.”
At that moment, Chaos and Fury entered the room.
“Welcome my most trusted servants.” Both warriors responded by bowing deeply. The Dark One continued, “I sense some trouble in you, Chaos.”
“Nothing that cannot wait, now you have arrived,” replied the warrior, knowing his place.
“I sense you wish to face our fallen brother. Well, the time will come, he will face some trials, and if he is successful then he will face you. All has gone as I have foreseen. Our vengeance against the mortals will be complete and we will have our time here. The Divine One’s control over of these lands has ended.”
“It is good to hear your words, master.”
“Not words, Chaos. I have travelled the Paths of Time. Our kind will rule these lands and beyond. I have seen the futures and in all we rule and dominate.”
“And the Children of the Light?” asked the Darklord.
“They will be our first victims, for this will weaken the wench. They must die and die soon, then the witch will, once again, be a guest in our dungeons. Now, enough talk, my army is impatient and wishes to join me. It is time to prepare for our conquests.” The Dark One paused. “Naats, I also feel your wish for blood. You will get it soon, my friend. Our circle is nearly complete and when it is, we will destroy Her, conquer the mortals, and each of us will obtain what we most desire.”
The five men left the small room and headed out to start a new era. Their grandest desire was to create an era of darkness, when Dark Times would befall the realm of mortals.
***
In the castle’s grounds Dax, Thade, and Tanas ran between the empty buildings, swiftly killing the two Dark Brethren guarding the outer gate, before escaping. They raced through the snow to the hollow where they had left their horses. Above them, unnoticed, the skies returned to normal, from eerie black to steel grey, with thick white flakes of snow floating to the ground, but again whipped up by strong, gusting winds. The friends could not risk leaving the hollow before daybreak, as the darkness and the wind would hinder their flight. They huddled together in the hollow as the wind tore through the leafless trees, whistling tunelessly.
***
At dawn, the wind lightened and the friends quickly mounted and galloped up the trail leading to the cave where Gan-Goran waited.
***
In the castle, the Dark Brethren silently prepared their horses to give chase.
***
Leading the way, Dax cursed silently at having missed his opportunity to avenge his friend. He slowed his horse and glanced down at the trail leading to the cave. Even with the fresh snow, he clearly saw new hoof and footprints leading up to their hideout. He held his clenched fist up in the air. The group of three stopped.
“I think there may be a welcoming party ahead of us,” whispered Dax softly, pointing to the ground. “Tanas, can you hear anything?”
Before the blind warrior could answer the question, several Kharnack warriors emerged from the snow-covered undergrowth with the sound of bowstrings groaning. The Kharnacks’ white fur cloaks had helped them to merge with their wintry surroundings. Dax glanced up and saw Gan-Goran exit the cave with a Kharnack close behind, prodding the point of his sword into the old man’s back.
Dax glared at the nearest warrior with blazing violet eyes, and recognised the colours of the clan. In broken Kharnack, he spoke to the warriors surrounding them. “I am Violet Storm, friend of your clan leader, Maldino of the Silverswords.”
One of the Kharnacks stepped forward and scrutinised Dax.
“I am Kavlon, son of Maldino. I have heard of Violet Storm who indeed is friends with Maldino. Unfortunately, none of us have met him. We saw you leave the Grey Castle and the people there are our enemy, so you might very well be our enemy.”
Dax dismounted from his horse and approached the Kharnack who spoke. “I am who I say I am and we do not reside in that castle. We came here to kill someone who lives there. I also remember you, Kavlon. You would cry endlessly unless I bounced you on my knee.”
Dax took another step. Several Kharnack warriors stepped forward, blocking his path.
“Unfortunately for you my friend, none of us here know you and I do not remember you. But as you say you may be friends with my father . . . ” The clansman paused. “We will take you to our camp. Bear in mind, though, that this will only delay your death.”
Dax was about to reach for one of his axes when Thade spoke.
“Well Dax, it looks like you’ll be seeing your old friend again. And it would be nice to take a trip through the mountains on this fine day.”
The old warrior glared at Thade, his eyes aglow with annoyance. As he did, he saw the number of Kharnacks closing in around them, many with arrows already notched in their bows. Suddenly, Dax beamed a smile and faced the young Kharnack. “Yes, it would be good to see your father again.” He turned, mounted his horse, and looked down at Thade. “What are you waiting for, boy?”
Within half an hour, the group of Kharnacks escorted the four Rhaurns heading due east through the Great Mountains.
Unbeknown to them, a small company of Dark Brethren started their pursuit, following less than half a day behind.
***
As the group of Kharnacks and Rhaurns trekked along mountain paths heading high up into the peaks, the weather drew in. Snow mixed with hail fell, whipped up by a strong wind. Within minutes, the group were travelling through another raging blizzard.
Kavlon, leading the group, could not see where he was going, and fear rose from the pit of his stomach. He had lived in the mountains all his life but never got used to the devastating storms. As a child, he had become lost in a blizzard, separated from his clan, and spent days wandering the mountains alone. Eventually, his distraught father had found him close to death, huddled in a cave next to a small fire. From that time on, Kavlon had hated storms and especially blizzards because his childhood fears always resurfaced.
Dax urged his horse forward through the travellers and reached Kavlon’s side. “We have a man with us who can lead us through this storm. He’s the one wearing the scarf over his eyes and the long brown coat,” he shouted over the howling wind.
Kavlon was about to verbally attack the older warrior
when a whiplash crack of lightning ripped across the snow filled white sky. The clansman visibly jumped. The young Kharnack could only see a couple of strides in front of him and had no idea where they were headed. He swivelled and stared into the Rhaurn’s violet eyes. Something there seemed to pierce the Kharnack’s soul, but he just managed to maintain his composure. Turning to one of his men, Kavlon gave the order to bring forward the warrior in the brown coat.
Tanas reached the front of the party and smiled as he passed Dax. He leaned forward and spoke softly to Essie. “Find us some shelter, girl.”
The horse’s head rose and dropped, as if nodding, then Tanas shouted to Dax, “I will find a cave to wait out this weather.”
“Good!” bellowed Dax and the group moved off slowly, following Tanas.
It took the group several long hours, but they finally found a cave large enough for them to camp.
***
The Dark Brethren followed the tracks of the three men up a mountain path. They paused at the cave to read the tracks; their prey had been joined by another, larger group of men. It seemed the group now had about twenty to thirty men. This did not bother the general as he still had superior numbers, and led his men onwards. When the blizzard hit them, Polalic decided to call a halt to their pursuit, knowing their prey would not be able to travel far in such bad weather.
The Dark Brethren returned to the cave once occupied by the three men and camped inside. Sitting in the cave, the general became wary as he recognised the distinct presence of white magic in the air. A master-magiker travels with them—that should make things interesting, he thought. The general posted a guard at the mouth of the cave and ordered the guard to wake him as soon as the weather broke.
General Polalic lay on his blanket within the cave and closed his eyes. Again, he saw the violet eyes of the warrior who hunted him. He pictured the man on the palace steps in Teldor, standing over the body of the blacksmith with the fiery red hair. As much as this man worried the general, it was nothing compared to Chaos’s sinister red eyes. Even thinking the man’s name chilled the general’s blood, causing him to shiver. Once he completed this present task, he would decide whether to return to the Grey Castle. It seemed to Polalic that everything was getting out of hand. He drifted into fitful sleep with those red eyes filling his dreams.
During the night, the general dreamt about a young man with ambitions, and dreams of being an abbot for the Divine One. He wanted desperately to serve Her, so the man persisted with his studies to enter the priesthood and join an abbey of the Divine One near Teldor. Yet after completing his studies in the art of white magic, the young man was left feeling unfulfilled. The power of white magic was not enough for him. He wanted more, he needed to learn more.
Naively, his one aim was to satisfy his desire for knowledge, which he found hard in the confines of the strict abbey. So the young man left, venturing out into the Kingdom seeking new knowledge and a new purpose. Never had the young man imagined life without a purpose and he desperately searched for new inspiration. Travelling far north, beyond the Great Mountains, the man heard the preaching of an old priest. The priest spoke of new magic, knowledge, and times of pleasure. He became spellbound by the priest’s words and volunteered himself into the cult’s ranks. Due to his past experiences at the abbey, the young man was accepted without question into the priesthood.
After years of training and subtle brainwashing, the man was told of his true master. He had become addicted to and rejoiced in taking of the balamine plant extracts, so the young man accepted that he was a follower of the Dark One and did not care. The black crystals increased the man’s power and intensified his joy to levels he could only have imagined in his wildest dreams.
With the new knowledge he had gained, he soon became proficient in dark magic arts and he found a new lust—he lusted blood. Before long, he joined the ranks of the warrior priests who followed and worshipped the true Path. He travelled to the Grey Castle and trained with the Dark Brethren. His addiction to the black crystals dominated the young man’s thoughts and actions. Within a couple of years, the ambitious young man was promoted up the ranks to general and . . .
And now, only in his dreams, did thoughts of Polalic’s youth and his life lost to the black crystals appear. Only now in his dreams did the man look back and wonder—what if?
***
That evening and the next day, the blizzard blew violently through the mountains, halting all movement. No animals or birds walked or flew, all stayed in shelters where they remained safe. By late afternoon towards dusk on the second day, the weather started to break. In the cave found by Tanas, the group of men, a mixture of Rhaurns, and Kharnacks rested. The tension in the cave was thick—thick with hate. Only recently, very recently had the Kharnacks suffered a devastating defeat at Kal-Pharina and this defeat remained strong in their memory. None of these clansmen had been present and nothing was said about the battle, but it remained in every clansman’s mind; each man had a common look in his eyes—a dark look of hate.
Tanas sat in the cave near the fire. He had removed his wide-brimmed hat and the scarf used to cover his eyes. He sat with his head cocked to one side, next to Thade, who was eating his warm meal, prepared by Gan-Goran.
Opposite Tanas and Thade sat a rough Kharnack sharpening his curved sword. Suddenly, and without warning, Tanas started to laugh about something.
Thade turned to the blind warrior with a frown. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing,” answered Tanas through his laughter.
Opposite Tanas, the Kharnack warrior nudged the comrade next to him and whispered something into his ear. Thade noticed, leaned in close to Tanas and whispered, “You’ll get us into trouble, my friend.”
“How?” asked Tanas innocently, furrowing his brow.
“You’re looking directly at two Kharnacks who are not impressed with your laughing. I think they think you’re laughing at them.”
“Oh,” said Tanas, rising. He walked around the fire, leaving his quarterstaff behind. As he drew closer, both the Kharnack warriors rose to meet him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dax watched Tanas and shook his head. He sat down next to Kavlon, the son of Maldino, in an effort to convince Kavlon that he was indeed a friend of the Kharnack chieftain. “I think we may have a problem brewing,” said the old warrior.
Kavlon looked over to where Tanas approached Chahar, the Kharnack warrior. Kavlon just smiled. He was starting to think the man may indeed be Violet Storm, but could not forget nor forgive the Rhaurns for the battle at Kal-Pharina. His hatred of the Rhaurns shone brightly in his eyes and dominated his thoughts. Though he had not been at the white city, some of his clan had joined the battle, against Maldino’s orders. None had returned. It would be good for the Kharnacks to see Rhaurn blood spilt, thought Kavlon bitterly.
Tanas approached Chahar and smiled at him. In very broken Kharnack, the blind warrior spoke. “I am sorry to cause you discomfort, my friend. You see, I am blind and cannot see you, though I bet you are a handsome fellow.” Tanas put out his hand in a friendly gesture. He wagged his hand around, waiting for the warrior to grasp it. But to his surprise, the clansman suddenly came at him and pushed him hard. Tanas flew across the fire, knocking glowing embers everywhere.
Before Tanas got to his feet, Thade leapt across the fire and stood in front of the Kharnack clansman with his swords drawn. One blade was held a hair’s breadth from the warrior’s neck, his other blade ready to strike or defend, depending upon the Kharnack’s next move.
A thin trickle of blood flowed down the clansman’s neck. Chahar reached up and touched his neck. When he saw blood on his fingers, his eyes danced with anger.
“Now, that wasn’t a nice thing to do, was it? That man is my friend and you’ve offended him,” hissed Thade.
All the men in the cave rose to their feet, forming a circle around the two warriors. “Thade, this is my fight, it was my fault,” snapped Tanas, coming to stand next to the
former gladiator.
“Tanas, we’re friends and this simpleton cannot reject a friendly gesture like that. This ugly whoreson needs to be taught a lesson.”
“Is he ugly?” asked Tanas jokingly. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Dax stood to one side, shaking his head in dismay. He knew all about Kharnack customs and now Thade would have to fight Chahar to the death.
Kavlon, standing next to Dax, spoke with a tone of jollity in his voice. “Dax, your friend has picked a worthy opponent. That is Chahar, the Silverswords clan champion, and my father’s personal bodyguard. Only my father can best him in single combat.”
Dax turned to face the young man. He tried to keep his voice even and friendly—he failed. “You could call this off,” he growled.
“Yes, I could but it’s now a matter of honour. Your man should not have drawn his blade and spilt blood. A blood feud now exists between the two men, which needs resolving. You should know our customs,” sneered Kavlon, smiling. “Chahar!” he called.
The Silverswords champion replied with a nod. He stepped back and removed his woollen tunic, revealing his broad, scarred torso. Picking up his dagger, the warrior walked out of the cave with the rest of the Kharnacks following, leaving the Rhaurns behind.
Thade looked over at Dax and shrugged his shoulders in exasperation.
“There’s a blood feud between you and that Kharnack,” explained Dax, shaking his head.
“Oh,” said Thade.
“Oh, indeed. You could not have picked a better opponent.”
“Why?”
“He’s the Silverswords champion,” snapped Dax angrily, but angry with himself.
“Oh.”
“This is my fight,” started Tanas, picking up his quarterstaff and walking to the cave mouth. Dax put out his hand, stopping the blind warrior.
“Aye, it was your fight, but Thade drew blood. Now it’s his fight.”
Tanas bowed his head and turned to face Thade.
“Well, we’d better not disappoint them,” said Thade, walking out of the cave to face the group of Kharnacks, followed by Tanas, Dax, and Gan-Goran.