The Greylands: Volume IV

The Greylands: Volume IV Page 1

by Susan Skylark

The Greylands: Volume IV

  Susan Skylark

  Copyright 2013 Susan Skylark

  Revised 2016

  Author’s Note: each story is unique to itself and is not related in any way to any other work, character, or world by this author.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an authorized and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  Table of Contents:

  The Sundrake

  All the Hopes of Men

  Other books by this author

  Sample Chapters

  The Sundrake:

  Kipril stared off into the sunset, enjoying the furious colors as the bright orb settled reluctantly into the Sea. He sighed wistfully and turned his back on the breathtaking scene, wending his way home. His weird whistles were answered by the high-pitched, musical voices of his master’s small flock of Sea Drakes, winging their eager way towards the cave-riddled sea cliff where they sheltered at night and during the violent storms that often battered the Western coast of Almaria, the largest island in the great archipelago nation of Vesper. The slave boy’s main duty was as drakekeeper to his master’s little breeding flock. He it was that oversaw every aspect of their keeping, breeding, training, and sale. The creatures obediently settled into their cliff-side caverns for the night with a cacophony of hisses, whistles, and screeches as they disputed over favorite roosting spots. Kipril smiled in amusement, seeing in his mind the minor fracas that commenced in the caves below between his beloved creatures. He stopped briefly in the ramshackle shed to unload his gear and then entered the crumbling cottage that perched precariously on the verge of the cliff, wherein waited his master and supper.

  Darfer was an aging, stoic man who greeted the boy with a grunt as he finished setting the table for supper. He had never married, had never wished to; he had no living relatives and no close friends. He lived alone, save for the boy, but slaves were not considered company. The boy quietly reported that nothing of great interest had occurred that day amongst the breeding flock or with the fledglings he was training. Darfer grunted in reply as he sat in his accustomed spot beside the fire while the boy pulled up a stool on the far end of the table. They did not speak all through the simple meal or during the few hours that remained before bed. The boy busied himself with mending some of his equipment while the man smoked his pipe and stared into the fire. Once the fire had burned itself down to barely glowing coals, the man found his grimy bed while the boy ascended into the loft and lay down on the heather-stuffed mattress that was his bed. In the morning, a silent breakfast was eaten and then each immediately set about his daily chores. The boy went out to his drakes and the man busied himself about the homestead with the various chores necessary to existence. Such was their simple life and so it continued, day after day, year after year.

  The boy was lonely, but he hardly knew it, for his whole life he had known only the old man, the drakes, and the Sea. He enjoyed his quiet life and neither expected nor dreamed of any other. He was good at what he did and therein he was content. The small breeding flock was stirring as he emerged from the little hut and whistled for his charges. The day was just beginning to grow warmer and they were reluctant to emerge from their roosts into the damp and yet chill dawn, but hunger drove them out into the morning with eager squawks of greeting for their Keeper. They hovered eagerly near the edge of the cliff until he had accounted for each one and then he motioned for them to head out to sea to fish for their daily meal. The creatures bugled in excitement and were soon lost to sight.

  Kipril whistled again, but this time in a very different manner and an eager, though cracking croon answered his call. An ancient drake flapped laboriously up from his cave and perched on the edge of the cliff, keening in pleasure as the boy scratched his head. The boy mounted the aged creature, which soon followed the others out to Sea. The flock had found a great school of fish teeming not far from the coast and were eagerly bobbing and diving in pursuit of their favorite prey. Kipril’s beast settled on the edge of the area where the flock hunted and floated along like a great duck, contenting himself with occasionally snapping at a frightened fish that tried to flee his voracious conspecifics.

  Their hunger sated, Kipril whistled again, and with a contented roar, all of the creatures were soon aloft and winging their way towards the warm beach where they would bask for several hours during the heat of the day. The flock settled contentedly on the beach; the boy inspected each of the creatures, noting one of the females was showing early signs of heat, but otherwise they all seemed happy and healthy. He left them to their basking and approached a cave on the far side of the beach. From within came eager screeches and whistles; the fledglings were hungry and eager for the warmth of the sun. Kipril whistled and the creatures grew silent, this was the last brood hatched and though young, they already knew what was expected before they were fed. They could not yet fly and fed by scavenging on the beach or fishing in the shallows. Kipril took them out, one at a time, and worked on various lessons as they foraged. Once satiated, they lounged on the beach with their elders, though well out of reach of the possibly aggressive adults. So passed the day, as the sun set, Kipril whistled them home once more.

  As they sat over their silent evening meal, a knock came at the door. The old man continued to eat while the boy quickly rose and answered the summons. A lean young man in the livery of some great lord stood outside in the dark. Said he without preamble, “is this the house of Darfer, the Drakekeeper.”

  “It is,” said the boy, trying to hide his eagerness at this potential customer; he loved nothing more than exhibiting his drakes to an appreciative audience, “won’t you come in?”

  The man continued, “have you any beasts for sale?”

  The boy nodded, “we have a clutch that is two months old and coming along well with basic training; they will be ready to begin more advanced training before very long and flying soon after that.”

  The man looked disappointed, “have you nothing rideable?”

  The boy shook his head, “we have only the breeding flock which is not trained. Our sole riding beast is too old and feeble for much beyond our morning fishing forays.”

  The man looked truly saddened, “a pity, for it is said you have the best beasts anywhere in Vesper, but my master is looking for a creature able to carry a rider. I thank you for your trouble.” He turned and walked away into the darkness as Kipril shut the door slowly after him. Darfer only grunted in irritation and continued eating. The boy sighed and returned to his own meal though he now had little heart for his food.

  Vesper was a prosperous and peaceful Kingdom, so far away from anywhere else in the world that it was little troubled by outsiders. There were no mammals native to the archipelago, but a variety of strange reptilian creatures were discovered there by the first pioneers, brave or foolish enough to land on those shores back in the dim mists of time. The voyage from the nearest outpost of civilization was long and arduous, not to mention dangerous with the great storms that often battered the coast, travelers were glad to reach the islands themselves, let alone hoping to bring any domestic stock safely through the treacherous journey. So it was that the native fauna was domesticated and adapted for use by the burgeoning civilization. The Sea Drakes were a lithe, winged reptile with long neck and tail, large and strong enough to carry a grown man aloft. They were quite useful for m
edium to long distance travel, as well as travel between the islands. For shorter distances, there was a bipedal, long-legged beast called a Runner. A heavy quadruped was used for draught purposes and a variety of smaller beasts of various type were used for hunting, farm work, guarding the homestead, sending messages, and companionship. There was even a subspecies of the draught beast that grazed the vast meadows of the island which was found both in domestic and wild forms, the former provided a source of meat and hides while the latter was a favorite of hunters, both peasant and noble alike.

  Slaves were quite common in those days, but they were far better treated than many of their class in other lands and times. Most were slaves by birth, necessity, or reduced to such status by unpaid debt or as punishment for some crime. One could be born into slavery yet one could also buy his freedom or be freed by a generous master or the King. Those who could not take care of themselves, at least the able bodied, often ended up in such straits, especially orphans with no one to take them in; such was the case with Kipril. His unnamed mother had left him on the doorstep of Darfer’s forsaken cottage as a small child; the man had taken the lad in, but refusing to adopt him as a son, took him on as a slave. The boy had little hope of ever freeing himself, but perhaps when his master grew old or died, he would become master of the wretched cottage and the small flock of drakes and thereby become a free man. But this was all in the very distant future and nothing the lad thought of on a regular basis, ever were his thoughts busy with his drakes and their training.

  The days passed in their steady plod, the fledglings grew and learned, the female was bred and the clutch layed, and the boy looked eagerly forward to their hatching. He had seen many a hatchling struggle forth from the leathery shell of its prison, but each new hatching never ceased to be a source of boundless pleasure and joy. The female laid her eggs in the sand of that warm beach, but well away from the raging tide and her clumsy flock mates. Ever she lay near them, turning them when they grew too warm or cold, guarding them from any harm. She would not leave her nest until they had hatched and then the little ones would be on their own, at least they would have been had not Kipril ever been watching over them and anticipating the day of their hatching. Finally, on a cold, damp morning after a tempestuous storm, the little ones began whistling in their shells and breaking forth with a vengeance. The female, content that she had done her duty by her offspring, headed out to sea for a much needed feeding, leaving her brood to the whims of nature or rather the care of the faithful Drakekeeper.

  He waited patiently, as each wet and wriggling creature broke free of its shell. They were ravenous little beasts and eagerly consumed the food he offered them, thus gentling them to humans in their first impressionable hours. Eight of the little creatures had broken loose and the final egg was rocking violently until suddenly the beast was free and Kipril’s heart froze in his chest. The others were all of varying shades of blue and green, like the sea, but this little creature was colored as the sunset, all in gold and deepest orange. He stared in wonder, never in all his years amongst the drakes had he ever seen or heard of anything like this! But this was no time for astonishment, the little one had to be fed. Once satiated, the sleepy hatchlings were easy enough to pick up and deposit in the safety of a special pen at the back of the cavern the fledglings inhabited. The curious older brood squawked and chirruped at this strange interruption to their usual schedule; they were starting to leap into the air and would soon be a-wing, Kipril hoped to have sold the lot of them before then, because after they could fly they were a great deal more work and he would already have his hands full with this new hatch as it was.

  He finished his chores as the sun was setting, whistled up his flock, and headed for home with his strange news for old Darfer. He entered the hut as usual, met by the same indifferent grunt, and then told of the hatching and the bizarre young drake. Darfer froze, and for the first time in remembrance, the man spoke, “what did you say?” Kipril repeated what he had said and the man said aghast, “are you sure?” The boy gave the man an affronted stare, as the old man continued, “this cannot be! There are legends…but they are legends! Not prone to happen in our drab lives.” He snatched up a lantern and ordered the boy to follow as he dashed out of the hut and down to the seaside cave. The younglings squawked in surprise and annoyance to be disturbed at such an hour but Darfer paid them no heed as he stared in wonder at the new brood. There, curled up amongst her drab siblings, was the legendary Sundrake. He hastened the boy back to the house and there confronted him, “have you any idea what this means?” The boy shook his head in confusion and the old man considered for a moment that Kipril’s education had been solely in his hands and he had never told him the old stories.

  He motioned for the boy to sit on his stool before the dying fire as he paced the room, saying, “legend tells of such a creature, legend nearly as old as Vesper. When our forefathers landed on these shores, an old prophet washed ashore in a decrepit little boat, the sole survivor of a tragic shipwreck. He did not live long after his rescue, but before he died, he foretold that such a creature would one day appear and when it did, we must prepare ourselves, for a great darkness would soon overshadow us and destroy us utterly if we were not ready. He said that the beast and its master would be the key to victory. We must get word to the King!” He looked grimly at the boy, “I am too old for such a journey, you must take the old beast and make your way to the capital city of Versa.” The boy was both eager for such an adventure but also fearful that all his careful work would come to naught in his absence. The old man scoffed a laugh, “fear not for your precious drakes! I can manage in your stead, remember who it was that taught you in the first place.” The boy was quite relieved and after a quick supper, went straight to bed that he might be away first thing in the morning.

  Just as the sky began to pearl with the first hints of dawn, Kipril whistled up his ancient beast, which snarled in irritation to be wakened well before his usual hour, but he came forth regardless. He flew the old beast out to sea and let him dine on a reasonable number of fish, not letting him gorge or he would be too stuffed to fly far. Once the beast was fed, they stopped briefly to collect what the boy would need for his trip, and then they were soon away. The beast was eager at first to see new lands beneath his wings, but with each passing hour his strength waned, each stroke of his great wings became more difficult, and as he weakened, his pace slowed and he lost height, until at last he was nearly skimming the trees, which forced the distraught boy to urge the creature to land. It was certainly an ungainly landing but not quite a crash, but the boy knew the beast was unlikely ever to fly again. His heart ached, for he was quite fond of the old fellow but his mind raced, trying to discern a way to complete his urgent errand without his faithful companion. The noise of their landing must have disturbed the local residents, for a number of them came running to see what all the ruckus was about. They stared in wonder, few had ever seen a Sea Drake this close before. They were common enough overhead, but few were found this far inland unless their masters had some errand in the area, which was unlikely, considering the neighborhood.

  A man in his middle years approached the terrified boy, who had never seen so many people in his life, though they numbered less than a dozen souls. The man was the local innkeeper and he knew a thing or two about beasts; he knew as well as the boy that this weary creature would never again tread the paths of the sky. The boy was nearly desperate to continue on his way, but his ragged appearance spoke of his poverty and his inability to procure the resources necessary for such a journey. Said the man gently to the cringing boy, “easy lad, can we be of assistance?” Tears filled the boy’s eyes as he shook his head, though whether of grief or frustration, the man was unsure. Asked the man, “what brings you all the way from the coast with so ancient a creature?”

  The boy squeaked, “I must reach the King, my master set me a vital errand and now I will never reac
h the capital.”

  The Innkeeper said thoughtfully, “your beast is done lad, and it would seem your journey too, but I will tell you what. Give me your beast, I’ll salvage what I can from him. His hide at least would be worth something. In exchange, I’ll loan you one of my runners to make your journey on, and you can stay at the inn and have a bit to eat both tonight and on your return. What say you?” The boy was stunned, he had never anticipated anything like kindness in the wilds of civilization nor did he like the idea of selling what very nearly was his dearest friend for the price of his hide, but the creature was certainly in distress and there was no other way he would ever finish the journey afoot. He nodded grimly, the innkeeper motioned for one of his serving girls to take charge of the boy, and he and several of the menfolk would see to ending the creature’s misery. With a last, pathetic look at the broken creature, the boy followed the kindly woman into the inn.

  His first night in a real bed would have been quite refreshing had he not spent the whole time thinking about what was yet to come; his reeling mind left little time or chance for sleep. Having something besides fish stew morning, noon, and night also was a novel experience. He stretched, yawned, and went down to speak with the innkeeper about what was to come. He greeted the boy warmly, saw that he got some breakfast, and went about finishing his morning chores while the boy ate. Once the boy was sated, the innkeeper brought out an old map but the boy only stared at it in incomprehension. The man shook his head in exasperation at whoever had so severely neglected the boy’s education and then sent him on such an errand alone. He briefly explained maps and their use and pointed out the best way to reach Versa. The boy was used to seeing things from the air so easily caught on to the concept. The innkeeper then took him out to the stableyard, showed him how to handle and care for a runner, and then saw that he had enough food and supplies to get him to Versa and back.

  Kipril stuttered in wonder, “I thank you sir for you kindness!” Never in all his years of faithful service had his master been half so generous as this stranger. He climbed aback the squatting beast, urged it to stand, and the next moment they were running down the road at a quick clip. Kipril much preferred the freedom of the air, but there was a sense of speed and recklessness one felt aback such a steed that for a time, he simply enjoyed the exhilaration of the ride.

  They rode on until there was barely light to see, stopping occasionally to water and rest the beast as the innkeeper had instructed him, but otherwise pushing the beast as fast as he could go over such a distance. Kipril tethered the beast near the wooded edge of a meadow where it could hunt for mice, insects, and small birds amongst the brush. There were no native mammals in Vesper, but rodents had come ashore with their unwitting human chauffeurs. Kipril crawled beneath a bush and was soon fast asleep. Morning found him wet with dew and stiff from his unaccustomed ride. He stretched, ate something out of his saddlebags, tended to the beast, and was soon on his way. The ritual continued for several days until they reached the great city of Versa one bright midday.

  Kipril gawked about him in wonder, never having dreamed of such architecture or so many people, though the complexity and number of both had increased exponentially as they neared the center of civilization in the archipelago. But his bucolic eyes had never seen nor dreamed of such a sight. The runner was reduced to a slow plod as they found themselves caught in the thronging streets of the crowded city. Their destination was obvious, as the great castle towered over everything. They reached the gates of the castle and the boy thought to ride straight through, but the guards crossed their weapons in front of him, blocking his way. He looked at the men with such pleading and desperate eyes, they nearly let him pass simply out of pity, but they had their orders.

  Said the senior officer posted there, “you cannot just ride in and see the King lad.”

  The boy said in a barely audible whisper, “but I must, sir! I bear dire news and my master has bid me tell the King.”

  The guard shook his head sadly and said, “off with you lad, the King cannot be disturbed, even for such portentous tidings as you no doubt bear.”

  The boy frowned, wondering whether the man was taunting him or simply trying to assuage his feelings. He decided on the latter, as there was only pity in the man’s tone. Kipril nodded dully and turned his runner to go. “Hold on a moment lad,” came a voice scratchy with age, “perhaps we can be of use to one another.” The boy glanced about and found the source of the voice; an old man in deep blue robes shuffled over and peered up at him with smiling eyes full of wisdom and kindness. The boy’s disappointment turned to curiosity as a small grin graced his lips; he nodded his eagerness. The man took the reins of the runner and led him off to a small inn where they could talk undisturbed.

  After procuring a loaf of bread and a bit of nameless stew, they sat quietly as the boy ate ravenously. Once his hunger was satisfied, the man began, “you seem to have dire news you would tell the King yet you cannot gain an audience, peasant that you are?”

  The boy sighed, “less than even a peasant sir, for you speak with a slave.”

  The man shrugged, “what is that to me? You are still human, no less so for your meager social status. Pray, continue.”

  The boy brightened at this and said, “I thought only to broach this matter to the King, but I feel perhaps I can trust you sir.”

  The man nodded, “what shall pass between us shall remain secret, save if you would have me tell his Majesty the King, for I happen to have his ear from time to time.”

  The boy seemed to melt with relief, but soon his excitement to share his news caused him to burst forth, “it is about the Sundrake!”

  The man frowned, “what about it lad? We all know the legends, but men have been watching and dreading its advent for centuries, all to no avail.”

  The boy shivered at the gravity in the man’s voice, “but it has come.”

  The man paled in fear and then said eagerly, “can this be true?”

  The boy nodded vigorously, “we had a clutch hatch several days ago and one of the hatchlings is colored like the sunset. Could it be anything else?”

  The man shook his head in astonishment, “it must be so lad, but we must be very cautious in who hears of this. There are many who would use this event for their own gain and would be most ready to kill for it.”

  The boy shivered and asked, “what do I do?”

  The man, Ubert by name, said thoughtfully, “we had best get you and this miraculous hatchling somewhere safe and secure, where it can be hidden until the time is right to make this known to the world. You go back to your master and tell him you have delivered your message and the King will soon enough take the matter into consideration. I will follow not long after and see if I can convince your master to give you and the creature into my keeping that we may secret you both away until the appointed time. Then, after all is safe, and only then, will I broach the matter to the King and thereafter we will act as we must.”

  The boy frowned, “why not take this matter to the King first?”

  The man smiled, for the boy had a sharp mind, “lad, there is more at work here than the King’s will. He is surrounded by many servants, nobles, and advisors, many of whom are unreliable and would love nothing better than to spread gossip of such an event, and there are undoubtedly some of a treacherous nature who would stop at nothing to claim the beast for themselves. Even the King, perhaps might act in a manner unworthy of his position and thereby endanger all of Vesper. No, it is best we take this privately to the King only after all is safe and secure, so that if we are betrayed, the creature not fall into the wrong hands.” The boy nodded his agreement, wondering if men could truly be so vile as to endanger Vesper’s future for their own profit. He shivered and knew that they could.

  The boy mounted his runner and rode swiftly back to the inn it called home. Ubert went about his own preparations, wondering if this boy
guessed anything of the strange adventure that was about to befall him and all Vesper. The boy returned the weary beast to its owner, rested for the night, and began the long journey home, afoot. What had taken a day to fly would take four days to walk. Darfer was in a furious mood when the boy finally returned from a journey that should have taken three days but he had been gone for ten, especially when he returned on foot when he had set out on a drake. Besides the boy’s tardiness, there had been a great storm, which prevented the beasts from feeding from the Sea for three days. The adults could manage, but the younglings had to be fed, which meant Darfer had to spend money to feed the ravenous creatures. The older brood was nearly ready to fly and therefore quite troublesome, but the new hatch was presenting a different problem.

  The creature for which they had gone to so much trouble was no longer the color of a sunset but of a stormy sea. Not only had its fabulous color disappeared, but it was quite fierce with Darfer when he dared go near it and had already killed three of its clutch mates. The wretched creature had cost him dear, legend or no. So when the boy returned late and without any encouraging word from the King, he was nearly mad with rage. “If I had a buyer this minute,” stormed he, “I would get rid of you and that lizard both!”

  “How much?” came the unexpected query.

  Darfer’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in avarice, “thirty pieces of silver and you can have the pair.”

  The cloaked man said thoughtfully, “it is a steep price for a troublesome, uneducated slave and a vicious Sea Drake, but perhaps there is some hope for the miserable creatures, with proper training. Sold.”

  Darfer laughed eagerly, finally his luck had changed. The stranger counted out his money and gave it to the aged Drakekeeper, who then motioned for them both to follow him down the path that led to the cave wherein the young drakes laired. Darfer entered the cavern first, then the stranger, and Kipril brought up the rear, doing his best to hide his eagerness; he knew the stranger to be Ubert, yet he also knew it would only make trouble for the man if Darfer knew he wanted to go with the stranger, so he tried his best to look grim and terrified. Darfer held his lantern aloft and showed what was left of the clutch to his curious customer. The aged Drakekeeper muttered darkly when he saw another dead drake in the pen, but the Sundrake had again taken on its wondrous color and crooned excitedly upon sighting the boy. Darfer cautiously reached in to grab the creature, but she snapped and slashed at the offending hand, which he quickly withdrew as she drew blood.

  Ubert suggested, “let the boy try.”

  Darfer laughed darkly, “better she chew his hide than mine.”

  Kipril quickly reached into the little enclosure and the creature eagerly perched on his arm, keening happily. Darfer shook his head, “I have never seen the like! The creatures recognize their keepers but never have I heard of a beast that would not let itself be touched, save by certain persons!” He turned grim eyes on the stranger, “you had best take them both and go, before the wretched thing causes me more grief.” They turned and silently left the cave.

  They walked silently up the path and away from the beach, the cliff, the caves, and the wretched hovel that seemed ready to plunge headlong into the Sea. They walked until they were well out of sight of what Kipril had once called home and then the man turned suddenly off the ancient path and onto an overgrown trail that led into a little copse. Once inside the little wood, Ubert drew back his hood and shared an excited smile with the boy then looked curiously at the wondrous creature that had wrapped itself around his neck and was sleeping contentedly on his shoulders. Ubert shook his head, “it must certainly be legend come to life lad. I have bought your freedom and that of the beast; now what will you do?”

  The boy gaped, “I am free?”

  The man laughed deeply, “yes lad, you are free to go where you will, but you are also responsible for what could well be the fate of Vesper and all her people.”

  The boy paled, “what am I to do?”

  The man said, “I would suggest you come with me. I know a place where the creature can be well tended and you can get an education. I do not know what this creature’s future will be, but we had better prepare as best we can for whatever may come.”

  The boy nodded eagerly, “I would like that very much. Free!” He frowned in concern as a new thought occurred to him, “but the Sundrake? What will come of her? Must I part from her?”

  The man shook his head, “this is destiny lad, fate. It cannot be escaped or defied. What must be, will be, and we must do our best to see that things turn out as they were meant to. For now, it seems none but you can control the creature, but who knows what will be the will of the King or the drake or yourself? The future is rarely revealed to such as ourselves. All we know is the creature has a destiny, but only time will tell what that is. Come.”

  They emerged on the far side of the little wood and found a Sea Drake squatting in the meadow, ready to leap into the air. Kipril looked upon the creature with a professional eye and thought it quite a splendid specimen, easily strong enough to carry the slight man and himself. They mounted the beast and it took silently to the air. The boy said in surprise, “what cues do you use? Mine obey certain whistles.”

  The man laughed for sheer joy, “we have an understanding lad. He knows what I wish him to do and it is his joy to do it.” The boy frowned, not understanding, but he had so much else to ponder that the man’s strange comments were soon lost to other thoughts. They flew off silently towards the north. Full dark fell, but the drake seemed to know where he was going even so and flew on.

  The boy finally spoke after hours of silent thought, “where are we going?”

  The man said, “we will be leaving this great island of yours and reach a small isle directly north where stands an ancient castle, half falling to ruin but it suits our needs. The face of the cliff on which it perches is riddled with caves enough to house a hundred drakes. The castle is inhabited by those known as the Keepers and their pupils. It is a desolate island, often battered by sea and storm. It is rocky, steep, and difficult to build or grow anything anywhere on the island. The currents and shore are such that no boat can safely get ashore so it is only reached by drake. It is the perfect place to get you an education and see to the well-being of your hatchling, until the appointed time.” The boy smiled eagerly but his expression was lost in the utter dark of the night about them.

  He must have fallen asleep, for the rising sun was well above the Sea as they circled in to land. Beneath them towered a crumbling castle, perched like an ungainly bird on a high cliff, at whose feet the Sea dashed itself recklessly, vainly trying to bring the great edifice down. It was a fairly small island, he could see coastline on three sides while the forth was hidden by a rise of rocky ground. The creature landed, the pair dismounted, and the man led the boy towards what once had been the gates of the castle but which ever gaped open in disrepair. Here there were no guards to bar the way and they entered without difficulty or challenge.

  “Ubert!” came a surprised voice as they came to a stop within the courtyard, “I had not expected to see you until our annual council.” The speaker, a man in his middle years, draped in a worn blue robe much like Ubert’s, continued, “I see you have brought a new student?”

  Ubert smiled warmly, saying, “Grim, I had not anticipated such a visit myself, but it seems my plans have been interrupted by legend.”

  Grim glanced once more at the boy as Ubert spoke and gasped upon recognizing what was coiled about the boy’s shoulders. The little drake cocked her head at his stare and cooed what sounded like a question. This comic reply broke the silence and the three shared a laugh. “Can it be the Sundrake?” gasped Grim, “and if so, what is it doing here?”

  Ubert shook his head, “I do not know what else to do. Here she will be safe until we can figure out what to do with her. The lad seems to be the only person sh
e will tolerate; he is in desperate need of an education as well. I will return to the King and apprise him of the situation. Will you see to our guests?”

  Grim smiled and said, “by all means. Will you be staying long?”

  Ubert shook his head, “only long enough to rest and feed my drake, and myself. As soon as we are flight worthy, I shall return to my post.” Ubert turned to the boy, “you will be safe here lad and have the chance to learn whatever it is your heart desires. I will send word when I know anything. Farewell.”

  The boy gazed after the retreating figure as he went to tend to his beast, feeling suddenly alone for the first time in his life. But Grim slapped him on the back and said jovially, “come lad, you and your drake could probably use some breakfast.”

  The boy nodded eagerly and followed the man deeper into the castle. He was soon seated at a great table, enjoying a plain but hearty breakfast while the drake perched on his shoulder and ravenously engulfed the tidbits of meat he offered her. Grim watched the pair in amusement until a noise down the hall drew his attention as the rest of the occupants of the castle made their way to the kitchen for their portion of the morning meal. There were four men besides Grim, all in their middle years or older and seven boys ranging in age from twelve to seventeen. They all stared in wonder at this enigma in their usually dull kitchen. Kipril shrunk under their scrutiny and his uneasiness caused the drake to squawk in alarm.

  Grim crossed his arms and said sternly, “this is Kipril, he is a new student and his curious charge is also to be entrusted to our keeping, at least for now. I expect each of you to welcome him into our little community and also to keep the presence of this rather unique creature an absolute secret.” They nodded their agreement and the man smiled, “I thought as much. Eat up lads!” With that, they eagerly took their places at the table and ravenously attacked their breakfast.

  Once rested, Ubert and his drake returned to Versa. The beast dropped him in a field outside of the great city and he bid it return to whatever sea cliff it haunted when he was not in need of its services. It roared a farewell and soon vanished from sight. He quickly made his way into the city to apprise the King of all that had come to pass. The guards at the gate knew him well and only nodded curtly in greeting as he passed. He hastened to find one of the King’s personal servants that he might ask after an audience with the man at his earliest convenience. He could have saved his breath, for a servant suddenly came running towards him, out of breath with haste. “Lord Ubert,” said he, “the King desires your presence immediately. He has been in desperate need of your counsel for some time and he feared some fell fate had befallen you. Hurry, sir!” The servant then dashed off, assuming the man would follow with all haste, and so he did.

  The King was in his throne room, pacing the floor when they entered. He looked up in astonishment and relief before it was replaced with a slight frown of annoyance. “Ubert!” said he, “where in Vesper have you been? I have been nearly mad with worry for I am in desperate need of your aid.” The servant bowed himself out and closed the door firmly behind him, leaving the two alone.

  Ubert bowed, saying, “I am sorry Majesty, but a matter of great importance was brought to my attention and I was forced to act in haste without asking your leave to be absent. Forgive my tardiness Highness. How may I aid you?”

  The King shook his head, “I hardly know, but let us both be seated that we may discuss this matter in relative comfort.” They seated themselves and the King continued, “a man calling himself the Seer came to me a few days ago. He said that a dire threat was coming upon my Kingdom and we must prepare ourselves with no mention of when, what, or how. I demanded he tell me more, but he only laughed at me and said as he went, ‘it matters little, for when the time comes, there can be no defense. I shall see to that.’ He laughed like a madman and vanished from the castle. I want to call it all madness or vain threats, but somehow I know him to be sincere. It would not be so bad, but I feel he looks forward to this coming nightmare, whatever it is. That is why I am in such desperate need of your counsel. For you, of all my advisors and counselors, are perhaps the only one who understands these matters.”

  Ubert looked grimly at the King, “he is not among the Keepers, Majesty and therefore if his visions be true, they stem from a source dark and terrible. But he is correct, that we shall see tumultuous times in the days to come. The errand from which I have just returned is one out of legend. I have seen the Sundrake!”

  The King gasped, “it cannot be true, but it must be so! What are we to do? Is the creature safe? It cannot fall into the wrong hands. Who is to master the beast and lead us to victory?”

  “Good questions all, Sire,” said Ubert, “but I have few answers at the moment. The beast hatched not many days ago, so it shall be nearly a year before it is capable of carrying a man. I have secreted the creature and its keeper away in a place where they are unlikely to be discovered unless a search is made for the creature. Besides ourselves, and the boy who tends the Sundrake, there is only one who knows the beast even exists.”

  The King frowned, “we had best contain that fellow as well, lest he start rumors and people start looking for the creature.” He sighed, “now how to find the man destined to save Vesper?” He thought quietly for a few moments and then brightened as an idea came to him, “what if we offer the beast as the prize in a grand contest to test the skill of every eligible warrior in Vesper? It will be a grand exhibition and also draw men experienced in the ways of war together, perhaps this will be the foundation of our army.”

  Ubert shook his head, “I do not think that such a good idea Majesty, at least not until the creature is large enough to bear a man. I think this hero will make himself known to us at the appropriate time.”

  The King frowned, not liking to give up his grand idea, but he contented himself in saying, “very well, your hero has until the beast is big enough to bear a man to make himself known, but if he does not appear by then, we shall have our little contest.” Ubert shook his head but could not gainsay the King any more in this matter. He went out to write to his comrades in the crumbling castle of what had come to pass while the King arranged for Darfer to be brought to Versa for a consultation.

  Grim received Ubert’s message two days later, borne thither by one of the little winged reptiles, almost a miniature drake, that were kept as household pets and used to deliver messages to distant parts of the realm. So they had a year. He sighed and called the boy to him. Kipril came running and Grim told him of how matters stood. Kipril nodded grimly saying, “I will learn as much as I can, but do you think I could learn enough of the arts of war to compete in this contest?”

  The man shook his head, “nay lad, the competitors will have studied the sword since birth. You would only get yourself killed. If you are to ride the beast, I do not think it likely that you need win her in such a contest. It is far more imperative that you learn how to read, write, reason, and the like.”

  The boy sighed in some disappointment, “I am not to learn the sword?”

  Grim laughed, “you can learn the basics lad, but only after your other lessons are done for the day. There are much more important things in life than using a sword.”

  A thought suddenly occurred to the boy, “Ubert called the folk that inhabit this old castle ‘the Keepers.’ What is it you keep?”

  Grim smiled, “it is about time you asked. Our full title is ‘Keepers of Lore and Knowledge.’ It is our job to maintain the ancient wisdom, legends, and lore, to interpret it, and pass it on to others that it not be forgotten and that civilization not fall into despotism or chaos. Learn the legends lad, take them to heart, and you are well on your way to being called wise.”

  Theirs was a simple life of learning and meditation. They raised all their own food and did what was necessary to maintain their simple lifestyle, but otherwise they dedicated themselves fully to understa
nding, interpreting, preserving, and disseminating the knowledge that was committed to their care. Kipril found himself fully enthralled by all they could teach him and his knowledge and skills increased at an astounding pace. Had it not been for the Sundrake, he could have spent the rest of his life doing nothing but learning all there was to know. But such was not to be, for he alone could feed, tend, and train the stubborn but beautiful creature. She would tolerate others in his presence, but none could approach her when Kipril was absent without risking injury. But neither was it the Keepers’ duty to spend their lives in isolated study. Once the students had learned what they must and had bound themselves to the cause, they were then expected to go out into the world and pass on what they had learned, to be of use to their fellow men. Such wisdom did little good if it simply remained in the head of a hermit who never again ventured forth from his retreat. Those few that remained permanently in the castle acted as teachers to the students and spent much of their time preserving or copying the ancient scrolls entrusted to them. None learned simply to please himself.

  A year passed all too quickly and the would-be hero had not presented himself, nor had the boy shown himself to be a natural warrior with any hope of winning the forthcoming contest. There seemed nothing to do but take his beloved Sundrake to Versa and there let fate decide who was to master the wondrous beast and save the Kingdom. The King had sent several servants and a small contingent of soldiers to seek out Darfer and bring him back to Versa, willingly if possible. They found the hut on the edge of the Sea, the door gaping wildly and creaking forlornly in the wind, but no sign was found of the man. A search of the surrounding area revealed only the empty cave that once housed the hatchlings and the breeding flock still going about their daily routine with no drakekeeper to mind them. They shook their heads in wonder and returned to Versa. They never discovered what came of the man.

  Two days after he was rid of the boy, a great storm battered the coast and above the roar, Darfer heard someone pounding on his door. He opened it to find a man darkly cloaked, standing on his doorstep. Hopeful that it was a customer caught in the tempest, he motioned for the man to enter his humble abode. The man did not stir as the storm raged about him, but snarled over the wind, “I seek the Sundrake. Know you anything of it?”

  Darfer stuttered in terror, not liking the feel of this man in the least, “the Sundrake? What would I have to do with such a thing?”

  The dark caller sneered, “the time has come for the beast to appear. It must be hatched somewhere, as likely in a brood of yours as another’s. Well?”

  Darfer trembled, “I sold the beast, it was wreaking havoc amongst my stock. I had no choice. I do not know the name or even the face of the man who took it.” The fiend hissed something dreadful and a ball of black flame shot from his hand, utterly consuming the miserable drakekeeper. He turned in fury and disappeared into the tempestuous night.

  The day was set for the great contest and spectators and competitors appeared from all parts of Vesper, for never had such a spectacle been held! Nor had such an exciting or epic prize been offered. The Sundrake! The winner was assured to become a legend himself; guaranteed to acquire boundless glory, wealth, and fame. Obviously, such a destiny belonged to the best warrior in Vesper. Three months before the anticipated contest, the King had made his announcement and the Kingdom went wild with rumor and dreams, forgetting that the advent of such a creature held dire consequences for the Kingdom, or so legend said. They assumed the darkness was already overthrown and forgot it was yet to come. The Keepers tried valiantly, but the people were so caught up in their own theories and dreams, that no one listened to the truth of the matter.

  On the day of the spectacle, Kipril climbed aback the beautiful beast and Grim stood at his stirrup, saying, “well lad, today is the day. Fear not, things will turn out as they should. We have kept the faith and now the future lies in greater hands than ours. The Master knows what He is about lad, even if we cannot fathom it. Trust everything to Him, and you need fear nothing. Give Ubert my greetings.” The boy smiled weakly, said a silent prayer, and urged the beast skyward. She leapt into the air and trumpeted her eagerness to be a-wing. She was a glorious sight to behold: the color of a riotous sunset and twice the size of a normal drake. Grim watched until they were out of sight and then returned to his duties, wondering what the day would bring.

  The advent of the Sundrake on the great fields outside the city caused quite a stir as all strained and jostled to get a closer glimpse of the fabled creature. Kipril had her land near the dais of the King, in a special area warded by a host of the King’s Guards. Ubert hurried to meet the discouraged boy as he dismounted from the glorious beast. There were tears in the boy’s eyes as his old friend approached, he said quietly, “I do not wish to lose her.”

  Ubert shook his head, “but she was never ours to keep. She must go to whomever is fated to save Vesper. We have done our part in raising and protecting her, now it is just as much our duty to pass her on to whomever our Master has appointed for this great task.”

  Kipril sighed in resignation, “I know, it is just hard to let her go.”

  Ubert smiled in commiseration, “only in letting go can we ever truly keep something.”

  Kipril frowned in confusion at this strange statement but after contemplating it awhile, he came to understand that nothing on this earth lasts forever and only in being willing to give something up, knowing it is ours only for a time, can we ever truly come to possess those things that will last through all eternity. He smiled weakly, “this is a strange time for a theology lesson.”

  Ubert laughed, “there is never a wrong time to learn more of our Master, lad.”

  The boy laughed then in contentment, “she was only ever on loan to me, that I now understand. Even this life I call my own, does not truly belong to me. Every breath, every action, pleasure, sorrow, and thought is but a passing thing, and nothing we can claim as our own, save to use each moment for our Master’s glory, thereby it truly will last forever.”

  Ubert smiled, “you have learned much in the course of a year.” The boy smiled broadly at the compliment but his reply was cut short as the King approached.

  Ubert and the boy bowed, but the King did not notice as his attention was completely consumed by the wondrous creature before him. He then turned to the boy and asked, “can you let her go lad?”

  The boy said quietly, “it was my part to raise her Sire, it will be another’s duty to see that her destiny is fulfilled. Once I thought to compete for her, but I am no warrior.”

  The King said to Ubert, “he is a good lad.”

  The Keeper only nodded in agreement. The King motioned to his herald, who announced the beginning of the contest and the assembled crowds cheered. So it was begun. There were various contests of martial skill over the course of the next three days, but from the start, there seemed to be only one man who would triumph. The rules of the contest were such that the combatants were not encouraged to kill one another, but Grath left a trail of dead and dying men in his wake. He was a tall, broad man with skill unequalled by any who dared face him. By the end of the contest, several of those who should have competed against him simply withdrew in terror, leaving him the undisputed champion. He strode forward, bowed minimally to the King, and said in triumph, “I have come for my prize, Majesty.”

  The King sighed reluctantly, perhaps this was a bad idea after all. The man was an impressive warrior but his arrogance dwarfed the Sundrake before him. The King ordered, “so it must be.” At his command, the warding guards drew back and allowed the man to approach the fabled Sundrake.

  The creature looked down at the brazen man as he approached and hissed in agitation. Her scales took on the hue of a stormy sea and she shifted nervously, as if unsure how to act. Kipril tried to dash to her side, but Ubert whispered with a slight smile, “not yet. Providence may yet triumph over our h
aughty assumptions of how things should work themselves out.”

  The man boldly continued his approach and the beast tossed its head in warning, she unfurled her great wings and spread them in agitation. Anyone who knew anything of drakes would have paused before approaching the obviously perturbed creature, but Grath ignored her unease and drew ever closer. He audaciously put a hand on her side. She shrieked at this impertinence and leapt into the air, hovering just above his astonished head. In his heart, Kipril wished the beast to calm herself. She obeyed. Kipril stared in wonder as a knowing smile grew on Ubert’s face. The drake landed some distance from the trespasser, her agitation decreased, and her color returned to normal. She tucked her head beneath her wing and seemed to be on the verge of a nap. Grath smiled, “that is better, beast! Know that your true master has come.”

  The man made to draw nigh unto her once more, but Kipril ordered her aloft. She obeyed without protest. The thwarted man stared in fury while the boy wore a look of pure wonder. Ubert said with a quiet smile, “now you have it lad. She’s yours after all!”

  The boy paled, “I am no warrior! How am I to save Vesper?”

  Ubert replied, “trust that to our Master as well.” His tone turned grim, “the better question is how to break the news to our brutish victor?”

  As the beast continued to cavort in the air, Grath’s mood became fouler by the moment. Finally, he stormed up to the King and demanded, “what is wrong with this wretched drake? Never have I seen a beast act so!”

  The King said in consternation, “that you must ask of the one who trained her.”

  The man stalked towards Ubert and the boy, demanding, “what have you done to this beast? You have ruined her and all Vesper will fall into ruin because of it.”

  Ubert made to stand between the enraged man and the boy, but Kipril stood forth and quite calmly asserted, “she was never meant for your brutal use, Sir. She is not ruined, but simply knows you are not her true master. Observe.” No whistles or hand gestures were any longer needed, for somehow he could now control her simply by thinking what he wanted her to do and she gladly did it. She landed happily beside the boy, which enraged the man to the point of violence. He lunged at the boy but the creature sensed his intentions and forced herself between them, snarling a dire warning.

  Cowed, the man backed away but promised in a loud voice, “I will have the creature, boy! You have not seen the last of me!” A dark figure watched from the shadows and smiled in anticipation; his plans were coming together beautifully.

  The wind lashed the rain and sea into a fury, the lightning flashed, and the sea and thunder roared; the sky was black as pitch and it was a wretched night to be abroad. Three days after the events in Versa, two rain battered travelers appeared at the gates of the Keeper’s crumbling castle.

  Kipril and the Sundrake had returned after the tumultuous events of the day, he intended to continue his education until they could discern what next was to be done. The entire Kingdom was quite astonished at the upset and tongues wagged day and night as all and sundry tried to explain what had happened and what was to come. That such a monumental task should fall to a former slave, a mere boy, was beyond comprehension. Kipril fled before more decisive action could be taken; he needed time to discover his destiny.

  There was no one about as the strangers entered the castle proper, due to the weather and the time of day. They had all gathered in the kitchen for the evening meal and were unaware of the visitors. A boy dashed suddenly across the courtyard and stopped in wonder to see strangers in the keep at all, especially in such weather. He had been sent to fetch something that was needed for supper, but his task was completely forgotten upon sighting the strangers. “Could I help you?” asked the tentative boy.

  “I hope so,” sneered the shorter of the pair, “have the Sundrake and its master returned?”

  The boy shuddered, “Sundrake?”

  The man laughed darkly, “do not trifle with me boy, I know the thing lairs somewhere hereabouts. You will tell me where or cease to be.” He brandished a dagger for emphasis.

  The boy quaked in terror, whimpering, “please sir, I have no wish to die. I will show you where the beast lurks.”

  “And its master?” came the grim question.

  The boy quailed, “Kipril is tending to it this very moment.”

  “And the rest of your companions?” sneered the man.

  The boy went to his knees in terror, “at supper, completely unawares.”

  The man smiled wickedly, “good, then remain here with my companion and your life will be spared, if you continue to cooperate.” He marched off through the gloom and stalked into the kitchen where every eye looked upon him in terror; they knew to their very souls that they looked upon death this night and that it would be the last thing they ever saw. The intruder drew his sword and slaughtered them like sheep. Five minutes later he emerged, laughing cruelly, “lead us to the Sundrake and its thrice cursed keeper.” The boy gazed in terror upon the man’s bloody sword and swallowed hard, as the man snarled, “lead on or you shall join your friends in death’s cold embrace!” A wail of terror escaped the boy as he dashed out into the night. The strangers followed after.

  They came to a stony path that led down the face of the cliff to where the drakes laired; the mortified boy stuttered, “it is the first large cave down the path. You cannot miss it.”

  “One last service can you render us, boy,” said the man with a hiss.

  Kipril was just finishing up his evening tasks and turned to go back to the castle for supper when Corbin dashed into cave, panted the boy, “there is someone here to see you.”

  Kipril frowned, but made his way to the edge of the cave, curious; Corbin fell to the ground and wept bitterly. Grath and the dark stranger took hold of the boy as he emerged from the cave, the latter slashed the boy’s palm with his dagger. The boy yelped in pain as they drug him back into the cave. The Sundrake bugled her agitation. The dark man ordered, “calm the beast or it will go ill with you both.” The boy’s heart raced but he dutifully quieted the creature. They drew the boy into the depths of the cave where the creature laired. She keened in confusion but heeded her master’s command and remained calm. Grath took his own dagger, slashed his palm, and handed the bloody weapon to the stranger, who pushed Kipril to the ground and drew forth the weapon tainted with the boy’s blood. He somehow managed to wrap his fingers around both of the weapons as they sat in his palm. He spoke in a fell tongue and closed his fist. When he opened it, the daggers were gone but a dead black gem the size of a pigeon’s egg lay in his open hand. He handed it to Grath, who placed it carefully in some sort of harness or bridle.

  “Now,” ordered the stranger, “place it around the creature’s neck.” Kipril tried to rise to his feet, but the stranger’s sword was suddenly pointed at his heart, as he hissed, “allow his approach or I shall pierce you through.” The boy shuddered, heaved a sigh, and continued to calm the Sundrake, who was again growing restless. Grath approached the beast and secured a leather collar, boasting the black gem, around the base of her great neck; the creature suddenly went wild, but even as she went mad, Kipril felt himself pierced through the heart by the stranger’s blade. The boy slumped and lay still; the creature calmed and stared dazedly, as if in a trance.

  Grath approached the beast, but she did not stir at his touch. He smiled in triumph and laughed cruelly, “at last. But how?”

  The dark man replied, with a hint of pride tingeing his voice, “the creature was irrevocably bound to the boy, none else could control it. But by combining his blood and yours, with the help of a little dark magic, it was possible to interrupt his contact with the beast, which sent it into a panic, but the moment the boy died, there remained nothing to distract her and now she is completely at your command. Had we just killed the boy outright, she would have gone wild and none could hope to catch her.
The collar gives you full control of her now that the boy is gone.” His smile turned vicious, “order her to consume her late master.”

  Grath shuddered but a wicked smile grew on his lips; this would be revenge indeed! The glazed look in the creature’s eyes turned to one of sudden intent as she set her cruel teeth into the mortal remains of the one she once held dearer than her own life. As she fed upon human flesh, her color changed to utter black and her once bright eyes roiled blood red. As the creature fed, the dark mage hissed in anticipation, “one thing yet remains. Having tasted of human flesh, she will now hunger for it again and none will be able to hold back her appetite. You are vulnerable, even your commands will not stop her from turning on you.”

  Grath shivered, “then why did you have her do such a thing?”

  The magician said ostentatiously, “she is but the beginning. She will be the mother of a new breed of monster, one that will soon help us destroy Vesper and then the world.”

  Grath scowled, “but you promised she would be mine if I helped you!”

  “She is, you fool!” scoffed the stranger.

  Grath frowned, “but you said she was dangerous to all men, including me!”

  “I did,” hissed the sorcerer in contempt, “but that little matter will soon be rectified. Come here!”

  Grath took an involuntary step back, but there was nowhere to go. He was effectively trapped between the wall and the beast. His companion raised a cruel looking knife and leapt upon Grath. Corbin, who had been watching everything in horror from a forgotten corner, had never heard a more hideous or pitiful noise. The grim magician stood, holding Grath’s still beating heart. He mumbled a few forsaken words and the organ disappeared in a gout of black flame. “What have you done?!” snarled a voice from the floor of the cave.

  “Made you a more useful servant for his Dark Majesty,” mocked the mage, “now your precious pet won’t be able to tear you apart and dine on your entrails. Get up, we are leaving; bring the beast.” Corbin cowered deeper into the corner as the skeletal creature that had once been Grath passed by and the black dragon lumbered obediently after. What had he done?

  He waited a full ten minutes, which seemed an eternity to his grieved and stricken heart, and then followed those terrible men, or whatever they were, out into the darkness, thankful that there was now no sign of anyone or anything, save the miserable drops of rain that were all that remained of the once violent storm. He collapsed beside the cave and wept bitterly. What had he done? He had betrayed not only his friends, but also the Master. He was lost, utterly forsaken, for all eternity! How could he live with such grief and sorrow? He heard the crash of the Sea below and for a moment considered throwing himself over the cliff, but knew it would not end his torment. Death would only harden his treachery, horror, and despair into a tomb that would torment him forever. At least there was hope, though small, that he might somehow find redemption and forgiveness while life lasted and that he not be trapped in such misery forever.

  The wind had scattered the clouds and now only tattered fragments remained, through which the stars shone with all their glory. Corbin looked to the heavens and pleaded that there might be some means of forgiveness, of redemption, some trace of mercy, and that if possible, he might yet be of use to those he had so grievously betrayed. He was still on his knees, after pleading to the heavens, he bowed his head again, as if in despair.

  “Easy lad,” came the firm voice and calming hand on his shoulder, “where there is a humble heart, there is grace.” Grim’s eyes hardened, “and our world will very soon need every faithful heart to take a stand against the coming night.”

  Corbin looked up in wonder, “how is it you survived?”

  Grim shrugged, “our Master’s grace I suppose. I felt a great urge to go for a long walk.”

  The boy stared, “in this weather?”

  The man smiled grimly, “I have learned not to ignore such urges, even when they make absolutely no sense.”

  The boy gasped, “then you have been back to the castle, you know what I have done?”

  The man barked a harsh laugh, “what you did? Bah! That was not your handiwork, but the like of which I have never seen. Two or three of those boys had their swords in hand yet the fiend cut them down like wheat before the reaper. This is no mortal foe lad. All you could have done was die with them. Not that cowardice or betrayal is something we like to inculcate in our pupils, how you acted was wrong, but it is not unforgivable. The question is, what is to come of these terrible new foes? Did you see what passed in the cave?” The boy shuddered and told all he had seen. When he had finished, the man replied thoughtfully, “so the fabled Sundrake has been captured by the Enemy? Not only captured, but apparently ruined with the potential to spawn a whole race of such hideous creatures! This magician and his necromancy is also a thing to chill the blood. How are we ever to defeat such foes?”

  “You cannot,” said a Voice, firm as the foundations of the earth. They were suddenly on their knees, trembling in terror before He who Was, before the worlds were made. A Great Unicorn stood before them in indescribable splendor, but they knew this was but the least part of His glory. Continued He, “my Enemy has unleashed forces and powers forbidden before ever I called life into being upon this sphere. Mortal men cannot stand against such foes, thus I must intercede on your behalf.” He nudged the weeping Corbin with his velvety muzzle, “easy child, all is forgiven. I have heard your prayers, would you weep even as they are answered?” Unspeakable joy grew in the boy’s heart as he smiled eagerly. He turned towards the cave that had now become a tomb and a den of foul magics.

  “Come,” said He with a great voice. Grim thought the very stones might get up and walk at such a command, but instead, Kipril emerged from the cave, rather confused but no worse for wear. Corbin and Grim exchanged a look of sheer wonder. The boy did not seem astonished in the least to be so summoned, he bowed deeply to his Master, shared an eager grin with his comrades, and all three followed the Great Unicorn up the path towards the castle, wherein the rest of their murdered comrades were waiting.

  Kipril joined the others who had fallen by the dark mage’s sword while the Master spoke quietly to the two who had survived the encounter. Said He, “I am charging you two with reestablishing this Order, but you must do so in a place less forgotten. You will very soon be overwhelmed with new recruits and you must have somewhere to put them. The times shall grow very dark indeed and all men will need to be reminded that there is Life and Hope yet in the world, but found only in Me. It is a great task I set you, but fear not, you are not alone.” They bowed in submission, shared an eager grin, and soon set about making preparations to leave. A thought suddenly occurred to Grim, there was no way they could leave behind all their scrolls and assorted writings nor could they take them with.

  The Master, knowing his thoughts, replied, “you may leave all but the most vital documents here, child. Most of it you have already committed to memory and that needed for reference or refreshment will ever be found here, available to those who need it, but quite inaccessible to those intent on mischief and immune to the ravages of time, weather, mold, and insects. This place has been consecrated with innocent blood, ever after it shall be known and feared as a place most sacred, rightly loathed by My enemies and thought haunted by the ignorant.”

  Grim smiled and resumed his preparations to leave, but Corbin’s curiosity could no longer be contained, “what of the others? What of those terrible men and the Sundrake?”

  The Master shook His head, “you must trust all of it to Me. There are some things that are not yet meant to be revealed to mortal men.” The boy nodded, only mildly disappointed, he had learned much about trust this night already. Their preparations complete, Grim and Corbin waved farewell to their comrades, summoned a pair of the sleepy drakes that sheltered in the caves below, and were soon lost to sight.

&
nbsp; The Master then turned to His murdered servants and said, “come, there is much yet to be done. Even now, my Enemy is raising up an army of undead warriors that he will use to destroy this nation before moving on to cover all lands in darkness and death. You alone can vanquish such fiends, against whom mortal men are helpless. Will you go?” A resounding yes answered Him. He smiled deeply as each man knelt before Him in turn. He touched each man with His great horn and a look of pure joy entered their eyes. They stood then before him, a small company of Knights, ready to accomplish whatever strange task their Master set them. “You must be horsed,” said He, though none knew exactly what a horse was. He reared and whistled in a strange fashion, quite uncanny coming from such a source. But the whistle was soon answered with eager shrieks of joy. The entire flock of drakes that sheltered in the caves below had been roused and eagerly answered this wondrous call. They took wing and lit on the battlements and towers of the castle, peering down eagerly at their Maker.

  Kipril asked desperately, “the Sundrake?”

  The Master shook His head sadly, “simply a beast like any other child, a bit more grand than most and obedient to you alone, but a beast nonetheless. She has been corrupted by evil and thirsts for the blood of men, she must be destroyed lest more men suffer your fate.” The boy nodded in understanding and looked curiously to the other beasts, perched intently on the battlements.

  The Master’s gaze followed his, saying, “they can be put to good use as well as evil.” Suddenly the whole flock had become Sundrakes. The creatures warbled and whistled in excitement, the men looked no less eager. The Master reared in excitement, “mount up, you have work to do!” Suddenly He was gone, leaving the awestruck Knights to themselves, yet each already knew what he must do. They exchanged an eager look, each man called to his waiting mount, and they vanished in a flurry of golden wings and joyous whistles.

  Grath was not pleased with what had taken place. He wanted to be the most powerful man in the world, not the most abhorred creature in the underworld. He shivered, not knowing quite who or what he was. He would have preferred the Sundrake to the dark monster that trailed faithfully after as they wound their way deep into the heart of the dead volcano. The Wraith, for that is what the stranger called himself, had chosen this forgotten hunk of rock in the very south of the archipelago for his lair. It was a small island composed entirely of a dead volcano. Nothing grew in this place, for there was only rock and toxic ash and very little water. It was even avoided by seals, sea birds, and any other marine creature that might think about making landfall. The mountain was riddled with passages, caves, and dead ends. It was a perfect warren to breed fell things in. Grath did not like it, not in the least. Here there was no one to applaud his victories or wonder at his might. He was simply a thing, not even a mortal man, and he did not like it. Snarled he, “I can stand it no longer! What have you done to me? I feel…different.”

  The Wraith hissed in amusement, “you are no longer a mortal man. You are the first of a new breed of immortal warrior, undefeatable by mere men. I have not coined a term for your, um, species.”

  Grath was beginning to see the advantages of this strange form and said thoughtfully, “how about Dread Warrior?”

  The Wraith shook his head, “no, a little too dramatic for my taste. Men are more likely to laugh at you than cringe in terror. How about Dreadlord?”

  Grath smiled darkly, “I like it, but how long until I get to inspire terror in these mere mortals? I do not wish to spend the rest of eternity living in a hole!”

  “Patience,” snarled the Wraith, “we must make your precious beast at home and then we can see to more interesting matters. Ah, here we are.” They had found their way to the heart of the mountain where an active flow of lava brought warmth and a lurid light. The beast rumbled in pleasure at the oppressive heat, for here she would be quite at home.

  “Lovely,” growled Grath, “you found my pet a home. Now where are you going to find her a mate?”

  “Not difficult,” sneered the Wraith with sheer malice, “find a male Sea Drake, feed him some poor wretch, and you have yourself a monster only your pet could love.”

  The Dreadlord laughed darkly, “I like it. When do I begin?”

  The Wraith hissed, “what are you waiting for? She now knows where she lairs so it should be no trouble returning to this place. Get busy, I have other business to attend to.”

  The Dreadlord sighed heavily, ordered the beast to follow, and together they wound their way out of the bowels of the mountain. Once outside, Grath mounted the horror and they took wing. Kipril, aback his own strange beast, hovered high above the volcanic island, waiting to follow Grath on his next adventure. As the dark figure took wing, Kipril followed silently behind and above, smiling in anticipation of what was to come.

  They flew all day, only stopping to feed the beast when Grath spotted a school of fish teeming nearing the surface. Once fed, he urged her onwards again until they came to a coast Kipril knew well. It was the very shack where he had spent most of his brief life, but it had finally given in to the elements and lay in a heap with no one to tend it. The feral breeding flock lay sunning themselves on the beach when Grath landed his beast near the collapsed hovel and made his way down to the creatures on foot; they would likely take a fright at the monster he rode and he needed to capture one of the beasts, not scatter them. There were two males in the group, he liked the looks of the larger creature. He had a few fish from their feeding foray and tossed them to the basking lizards as he approached. They whistled a little nervously, not liking the feel of this creature, but they were well used to men and did not immediately take flight. It had been some time since they had seen a man, but old habit died hard; they keened curiously and Grath drew closer. The largest male sniffed at the fish the stranger offered and quickly snatched it from his hand. Grath kept whistling to the creature and offering it more fish. It seemed to be warming to him.

  While Grath was trying to make friends with the breeding flock, Kipril landed not far from where the Dreadlord had left the former Sundrake. She snarled at the smaller male and hissed as the Knight approached, no longer familiar with her late master. Kipril drew his sword and approached the uneasy beast. He grinned, never having learned more than the rudiments of swordplay or having carried such a weapon in his life, he was vastly amused to bear one now and to know full well the use of it. She snapped at him, but her teeth passed through the boy as if he were made of sunbeams. He raised his blade and reluctantly struck, but his sword was as useless against the mortal beast as her teeth were against him. He frowned, this was not going to work. Only a mortal blade could kill this mortal monstrosity, but who was crazed enough to fight such a creature? He thought for a moment and then asked his own beast if he might not try fighting the hideous female.

  The creature looked at him in astonishment and Kipril was quite surprised to hear an answer in his own mind, something to the effect of, “do not be ridiculous, I too am an immortal creature and would harm the beast as little as your own blade. We must find someone capable of overcoming such a creature.” Kipril gaped, he had no idea the creature was both sentient and immortal. The creature snorted his amusement, “when the Master does something, He does it well. I am called Kaza and we are partners.”

  Kipril smiled, “I am glad to meet you, my friend. Forgive me thinking you a simple beast.”

  The thing tilted its head in question, “how were you to know?”

  The boy smiled, “well now I know. Where are we to find such a brave soul?”

  Kaza shook his head, “you are more familiar with this place than I. What of that vile warrior and his attempts to tame the male drake?”

  Kipril smiled in amusement, “he will have little luck with the creatures. They are not trained to ride and he does not know the whistles to which they will respond. It may take him a month to get that beast to do his
bidding.”

  “So we have a month?” asked the Sundrake.

  Kipril shook his head, “I was exaggerating. We likely have a few days. Why are you so literal?”

  The beast cocked its head again, “I know nothing of exaggeration as you call it. I know only the Truth.”

  The boy laughed, “it is a human foible I suppose, a way of making our meaning clear.”

  The creature frowned, “how does obfuscating the timeline make the meaning clear?”

  The boy shook his head, “I suppose it may be something you will never understand.”

  “A pity,” said Kaza, “for I do not like not understanding things. Perhaps with careful observation I can come to appreciate this phenomenon.”

  Kipril shook his head in amusement, “perhaps you will, but first let us find our hero while we still have a chance to destroy this beast.”

  Kaza said blandly, “I merely await your pleasure.”

  Kipril was not sure, but he thought he heard an amused hiss in that comment. As he mounted, he asked, “can you make yourself look a little less like a Sundrake?” The creature did not reply but suddenly his brilliant scales took on the muted tone of his mortal kin. Kipril smiled, “perfect.”

  The creature looked back over its shoulder at his rider, “and what of you.”

  “Me?” asked the boy, glancing over what he could see of his person. He smiled in amazement, “I had no idea!”

  The drake asked, “how could you not know?”

  The boy replied, “I have not always been this way, remember?”

  Kaza shook his head, “no, I did not become conscious of anything until the Master called my mind into being, before that I was a silly lizard.”

  The boy smiled, “as I was a clueless boy. The Master has given us both new life.” Kipril studied himself again, taking in the white, silver, and blue garments that had replaced his ragged peasant garb. He concentrated for a moment and suddenly he looked again a common sort of boy aback an unremarkable drake.

  “Excellent,” said Kaza in approval, “now we can be off.” They took wing, careful to avoid cutting across Grath’s line of sight, lest they be seen.

  As they flew, Kipril frowned, “how did we get from the derelict castle to that volcanic island so quickly?”

  Kaza shrugged, “Time means little to you or I. I can simply wish to be at a certain place and time and there we are.”

  Kipril grinned, “can you wish to be at the place where we can find our hero?”

  Kaza nodded, “that is a superb idea, but would you have me appear at the proper when as well?”

  Kipril sighed, “of course.”

  Kaza nodded, “then off we go.” They suddenly vanished from sight and reappeared just as suddenly over a little town not far from the coast. They set down in a great meadow as Kaza said, “that little trick will be very helpful to our quest.”

  The boy gaped, “you did not know you could do it?”

  The lizard beamed, “I know as little about my own abilities as you know of yours, but we shall soon learn what we must. Now you had best go find a volunteer.” The boy smiled eagerly and dashed off towards the hamlet.

  It was a small market town that sat on a busy crossroads, thus strangers were nothing too exciting to the residents of the village so no one remarked the boy as he passed. He saw several stocky, four-legged reptiles, with broadswords sheathed alongside their saddles, tied to the hitching rail at one of the inns. Kipril smiled eagerly and dashed into the common room, hoping he had found his warriors. The three men sat over their midday meal, joking and talking amongst themselves. Kipril thought to boldly approach the men, but a page about his own age dashed up to the audacious lad, saying quietly, “you must not disturb my masters as they eat or we shall both find ourselves soundly thrashed. You can ask them to tell you tales of their valor when they have finished their meal.”

  Kipril shook his head, “I do not wish to hear tales, but to tell them of a vital quest that needs their immediate attention.”

  The boy shook his head, “they do not listen to mere peasants. If you could find a great lord to support your quest, and better yet, to offer a substantial reward, my masters would be quite eager to assist you.”

  Kipril looked at the boy askance, “what kind of heroes are these?”

  The boy shrugged, “mercenaries.”

  Kipril sighed, “then how am I to get the help I need?”

  The boy brightened, “perhaps I could aid you?”

  Kipril smiled hopefully, “this is a very dangerous quest, you are like as not to be killed.”

  Ian smiled eagerly, “then I may just earn myself enough of a reputation, assuming I survive, to become a renowned warrior rather than a page. I shall never advance beyond my current state if my masters have any say in the matter. All they think I am good for is polishing armor, sharpening swords, and tending to their beasts. What is this valiant quest you speak of?”

  Kipril said, “I need someone to slay a dragon.”

  Ian asked, “what is a dragon?”

  Kipril replied, “think of a dead black Sea Drake, twice its natural size, and thirsty for human blood.”

  Ian shivered, “that is most definitely a task worthy of a renowned warrior!” He swallowed hard, “you think I can do it?”

  Kipril shrugged, “I only know I need to find someone willing to try.”

  The boy nodded, “you have found your man.” He marched up boldly to his gorging masters and said with just a tinge of nervousness, “I am off to become a mighty man of valor.”

  They barely looked up from their meal, one waved his hand dismissively and said, “just be back by breakfast.” And then they went back to their feasting. The boy shook his head in astonishment and accompanied Kipril outside.

  Said Kipril, as the boy was adjusting the straps on his runner’s harness, “there is one other thing I must ask before I risk your life on this fool quest.” The boy looked over his shoulder curiously and Kipril continued, “since your life will soon be in grave peril, are you ready to die?”

  The boy looked at him and frowned, “am I willing to die in this idiotic adventure?”

  “No,” said Kipril, “are you ready to die? If this breath were your last, where would you abide thereafter?”

  “Ah!” said Ian in comprehension, “is this some strange test? Will you laugh at me and say it was all a great joke if I say I am one of those fools who believes his grandmother’s old tales? Well, have your laugh, for I truly believe in the Master, and whatever this day brings, I do not fear it, be it life or death.”

  Kipril did laugh, but for joy, as he said warmly, “may the Master greatly bless your dear grandmother. I could not risk your life else.” The boy shook his head in wonder, but said nothing as he swung himself into his saddle. “

  Are you not going to mount up?” asked the flummoxed boy of Kipril, “the day wastes.”

  Kipril frowned and was about to mention his lack of a beast, when a runner poked him in the back with its bony snout. He turned in surprise and the creature gave him a curious wink. He thought at the beast, “Kaza?”

  The creature raised both its orbital crests (its version of eyebrows) and thus came the silent reply, “who else?” Kipril smiled and shook his head, greatly amused at the continuing revelations of the day. Ian wondered what the strange boy was waiting for but said nothing; finally Kipril was mounted and led the way out of town.

  He thought at Kaza, “do you know the way?”

  Kaza shrugged, “yes and no.”

  Kipril frowned, “which is it?”

  Kaza continued, “I do not exactly know the way, but we shall undoubtedly get there.” The boy shook his head in wonder but did not reply.

  “How far is this monster of yours?” came the cheerful voice of their companion.

  Kipril thought hard for a moment, certainly they must
not be too far from his onetime home, else they would not arrive before Grath had escaped, but then he had never been allowed to go to town so he did not know much about the nearby settlements. He extrapolated from the meager details Darfer had mentioned over the years and said, “it is probably a half day’s ride.”

  Ian smiled, “then we shall arrive with plenty of daylight to spare.” He frowned, “why are you not trying to slay the beast yourself?”

  Kipril glanced quickly at his hip, saw that his sword had vanished, and said, “do I look like a warrior?”

  The boy laughed, “if you had a sword, you would be just as much a warrior as me, which is not saying much. Where did this creature come from?”

  Kipril shuddered, “it is the result of the Enemy’s vile witchery, brought about at the cost of innocent blood. You must also know that there is a dread warrior nearby, I hope we can deal with his pet ere he discovers us, else it could be very interesting.”

  Ian grinned like a maniac, “it makes it all the more an adventure.” Kipril shook his head in wonder. Within the time specified, they reached the ruins by the Sea, where the monster yet sat, awaiting its master’s return.

  Ian stared at the thing from behind a hill, lest they be seen. Said he, “I am starting to have second thoughts. Can I even kill the thing?”

  Kipril shook his head, “I do not know, all you can do is try.”

  Ian swallowed hard, drew his sword, and kicked his beast to a gallop. The dragon had been dozing in the warm noon sun, it roused at the sudden approach of a stranger. It rumbled deep in its throat and the redness of its eyes deepened in fury and hunger. Kipril and Kaza suddenly appeared on its other side, for a moment drawing the monster’s attention away from Ian. It screeched in fury and confusion, snapping at the impertinent boy and for a moment, gave Ian time to strike. Instead of trying to strike at the head, the boy aimed his blade under its foreleg where he hoped it was vulnerable, fearing his sword would not pierce the thick scales that covered the monster’s dorsum. His blade struck true, severing the great vessels that coursed between the leg and the neck; it was a mortal wound unless the bleeding was quickly staunched, but it was not immediately fatal, at least not to the monster. Roused to greater fury by pain and confusion, the monster snapped at Ian, who lay for a moment stunned on the ground where the force of his blow had flung him. He was an easy target for the dying monster as it flailed about wildly in its moribund agony. Even if the boy had survived the monster’s first attack, he was certainly crushed when the thrashing beast rolled atop his prone form.

  Kaza cocked his head, “so this is death. It is certainly not a pretty sight.”

  Kipril said quietly, “there are many things in this fallen mortal world that are neither pleasant nor beautiful.”

  Kaza blew out his nostrils, “a good thing we no longer belong to this world.”

  Kipril smiled wistfully, knowing his true home lay wherever his Master was, well outside this sphere of pain and sorrow. The ruckus atop the cliff had frightened the lounging Sea Drakes and interrupted Grath’s attempts to tame the half-wild beast. They shrieked in terror and winged their way out to Sea while Grath rushed up the hill to see what all the commotion was about. He stared in horror at the ruined form of the dragon, heaving its last struggling breath as its lifeblood pooled on the rocky ground. “No!” shrieked the fiend and then his eyes widened in astonishment as he saw Kipril standing amidst the carnage. “You,” spat the Dreadlord vehemently, “I thought we had seen the last of your meddling?”

  Kipril smiled insolently, “certainly not, and it was your vile master who meddled in the first place!”

  Grath smiled cruelly in anticipation, “we shall see who is the better warrior, boy!”

  He lunged at the boy with sword raised; Kipril smiled eagerly as he found his own sword in his hands. Their blades met, darkness and blinding light flashed with each stroke. Grath had been one of the best swordsmen in mortal life, while Kipril could barely hold the weapon correctly, but this seemed to be an even match. Kaza shook his head in impatience then leapt at the distracted Dreadlord’s neck. The fiend screamed as the sharp fangs found their mark and then suddenly vanished in a wisp of smoke.

  Kipril eyed his companion with an amused smile, “I thought you could do no harm?”

  Kaza cocked his head, “to mortal flesh, no, but that thing is hardly mortal. Besides, we have other things to do than spending all day fiddling with that nuisance.”

  Kipril raised an eyebrow, “all day?”

  The Runner took on the form of a Sea Drake and rumbled a laugh, “I think I am starting to understand hyperbole.”

  “I see,” said the boy, as he approached the stiffening monster, “now how are we to move this thing?”

  Kaza cocked his head in the familiar way and said, “I suppose you just have to concentrate.” Kipril stared at the creature in astonishment but knew he had the right idea. He concentrated and was easily able to shift the great carcass aside to reveal the battered remains of the once bold page. Kaza shook his head in disgust, “death is certainly not a thing of beauty, but come, we shall see if something better is not to be found in its wake.” Kipril took up the nearly unrecognizable corpse and was soon aback Kaza; the world spun and they found themselves hovering over the crumbling castle on a grey afternoon. Kaza glanced about, “the weather has certainly not improved in our absence.” The creature back-winged and landed on the edge of the cliff, just outside the gaping gates. This time, the boy was not allowed to cross the threshold unchallenged.

  “Who goes?” came the stern query.

  The boy looked up in surprise, not expecting anyone to be lingering about willingly in such a place. He gasped to see a creature out of legend emerge into the gateway, but then he supposed that he too had now become something somewhat legendary. The centaur stared down at this bold little mortal in wonder, especially seeing that he clutched some form of carrion in his arms. The creature seemed almost as astonished at the boy’s presence as the boy was at his. Kaza chuckled and suddenly the Sea Drake shone forth like the sun. The centaur frowned, but then understanding filled his eyes.

  “What is it, Katar?” came a second gruff voice. A second centaur appeared and glanced in puzzlement at the boy and then at the Sundrake. “Ah,” said he, “you had best follow me.”

  Kipril gave the drake a confused look, but Kaza only laughed the more. The boy shook his head and followed the second creature as the first stood aside to allow him to pass. “Where did you come from?” asked the astonished boy, “or rather how did you get here?”

  Laughed his guide, “the Master asked and we have volunteered. Our people live in a distant part of this world, as yet unknown to mankind, save a few souls who have occasionally washed ashore after shipwreck, but they never see their homelands again, as there is no way for them to leave our shores; thus do they live out the remainder of their years amongst us. So you see, mankind is nearly as legendary to us as we are to you.” He eyed Kipril’s curious burden with wonder, “and what would you be doing with that?”

  The boy grinned, “that I hoped you could tell me. I only knew I must bear his mortal remains thither.”

  “Why not leave whatever is left of your friend here,” said the centaur, Akvar by name, “there is a cave just down the path with a spring you may find useful.”

  The boy smiled in sudden enlightenment, left Ian’s shattered form in the midst of the courtyard, and dashed down the familiar path that once led to the lair of his once beloved Sundrake. He ran into the cave, only to back out almost as hastily as a grumpy sounding voice demanded, “who or what are you? And what business do you have in my cave?”

  Kipril held up an empty phial that had suddenly appeared in his hand, “I must fetch some water from the spring in the depths of your lair.”

  “Do not be ridiculous,” snarled the as yet unseen creature, “no one is allowed access to the Wa
ter of Life without very good reason!”

  “But…” began the flustered boy.

  “No excuses,” growled the voice, “go away and let me sleep.”

  “I was Sent,” gasped the flummoxed boy.

  The creature heard the emphasis on the word and said curiously, “sent?”

  The boy shook his head, “this is the errand our Master has set me.”

  The thing asked quizzically, “can you prove it?”

  “How?” asked the exasperated boy.

  A great bear, almost as large as a female Sundrake, emerged from the cave. “I do have permission,” the creature growled in warning, “to slay any who dare seek this Water unworthily.”

  Kipril brightened, “then you had best be about it already. I do not have all day.”

  The monstrous beast barked a laugh, “are you serious?”

  The boy shrugged, “if things are as they seem, your claws will not hurt me and thus will you have your proof.”

  He shook his head in confusion, but raised one great claw, ready to shred the apparently mad youth. He stopped short, “are you sure about this?”

  The boy grinned, “if you must have proof, proceed.”

  The bear shrugged and struck at the boy. Nothing happened. The bear said in surprise, “I do not understand.” The boy smiled impishly and dashed through the bear and into the cave. Kipril found a bubbling spring and a slightly luminescent pool at the back of the cave where so much wickedness had been wrought. He filled his flask and dashed back the way he had come. The bear looked at him in confusion and said plaintively, “I do not understand.”

  Kipril said reassuringly, “ask the centaurs, they will explain the matter.” He shook his great, shaggy head, mumbled to himself, and returned to his interrupted sleep, still not understanding, but too lazy to ask after the matter as the strange boy had suggested.

  Kipril dashed back to the courtyard where he greatly amused the two sentries with his tale of his encounter with the bear. Laughed Katar, “we will have to explain things to the poor fellow, we cannot have such happening every time one of your ilk needs access to the spring. But come, your poor companion lingers in the shadows of death. Such is not how so bold a soul should be treated.”

  Kipril would have poured the precious fluid in Ian’s mouth but he was not sure where exactly that was, so he contented himself with pouring the contents of the flask over his friend’s mortal remains. The results were almost instantaneous. The ruined form suddenly took on the recognizable visage of a young man, and Ian sat up and glanced about himself in wonder. He shook his head, smiled at Kipril, blinked in astonishment at the centaurs, and rose to his feet as he took in his surroundings. He, as all his comrades that had preceded him in death, had come immediately into the Presence of their dear Master upon death. There, as all mortals must, they endured an interview of the strangest kind, afterwards they were given a choice of returning to the mortal world, in it but not of it, and continuing the fight against the darkness, or forever remaining in their Master’s wondrous presence. Ian, as all his fellow Knights, was not yet ready to give up the struggle against the Dark. So it was, he found himself here, in this curious new occupation.

  He smiled knowingly at Kipril, “you never said you could not defeat the dragon, you only pretended not to have a sword.”

  Kipril grinned in reply, “would you have willingly gone after such a fiend if I had told you I could not personally defeat the thing?”

  The boy laughed, “aye, I would have gone after the monster but perhaps would have thought far less of you and your lack of martial skill!”

  They had emerged from the gates as they chatted merrily together; Kaza cocked his head in the usual way and said to the pair, “do we not have something pressing that needs doing?”

  Ian looked quite astonished to see the legendary Sundrake, and even more amazed to hear it speak! Kipril quickly explained how matters had transpired and Ian replied, “so this pressing business, I think, would be to find another of your kind?”

  Kaza shook his head, “nay lad, my kind is not found. We are made!”

  Ian frowned, but Kipril grinned, “we had best go speak with my friend the bear.”

  Katar smiled, “and I had best go with and explain matters.”

  They followed the old path down to the sea caves and the bear emerged once more, grumpy at his twice interrupted nap, but upon scenting the centaur he quickly changed his tone and became quite polite and respectful, if a little groggy. “So it is, so it is,” said the bear quite ruefully as the centaur explained things. Then with a sigh he added, “I suppose this means my poor nap will suffer quite dreadfully, but such is to be expected I suppose. Very well lads, off with you, but don’t dawdle mind you, I have some serious business to tend to without you underfoot.”

  Kipril said in a whisper to Ian, “he means he will be asleep again the moment we leave.”

  “I heard that,” grunted the bear, but not without a hint of amusement in his voice. Ian dashed into the cave, filled his flask, and soon they had vanished back up the path and the great bear was soon asleep, his snores doing credit to his size.

  “How am I to catch a Sea Drake?” asked Ian in some consternation, as Kaza carried them both back to the scene of their latest disaster.

  Kipril grinned, “I know how to whistle in a certain flock, but otherwise I know not.”

  They landed on the edge of the cliff and Kipril whistled, as he had not done in what seemed an eon. The familiar chirps and croons came, but they were tentative, as if the beasts did not quite know what to expect. Kipril whistled again, and this time the creatures emerged, eager to see a familiar face after all the excitement of the day. Kipril changed his pitch and the creatures obediently landed on the sea cliff, cocking their heads to look curiously at their visitors. “Take your pick,” grinned Kipril, “the smallest female has always been my favorite.”

  Ian cautiously approached the indicated creature, she chirruped happily and bent her head towards him to have it scratched. She crooned in ecstasy at the gentle touch and then squawked in indignation when he poured the strange water into her mouth. She shook her head in confusion and then cocked it curiously as understanding dawned in her eyes, quoth she, “strange, quite strange but not unpleasant.” She eyed the boy in amusement, seeming to know innately the reason for which she had been given Reason, “come along then lad, no sense standing about gawking. Off we go! Oh, call me Kyra!” Ian shared an astonished grin with Kipril before climbing aback the dear creature and vanishing from sight.

  The Wraith watched curiously from behind the carcass of the dead dragon. When that fool Dreadlord had returned quite unexpectedly and ready to burst with fury at a creature who was supposed to be dead, the Wraith knew he had to investigate. So it was true, the wretch or rather wretches, had found a way to bypass death and become a true menace to his plans. He grumbled under his breath, wondering what was to be done about such creatures. It was also a pity that his scheme of breeding black dragons had come to naught. He could certainly try it again but the likelihood of success was slim if all these wretches had to do was get some pea-brained mortal to lop the heads off the beasts. But this strange water splashed on a mindless drake causing it to waken to sentience was a curious matter.

  He doubted such cursed water could much avail himself, but it gave him an interesting idea. His Dreadlords must be mounted and corrupting mortal stock was no way to go about it. That left corrupting immortal stock, which seemed doubtful, as the beasts were unlikely to cooperate with him if they were unwilling to cooperate with the so-called Master. That left reanimating a dead beast, now that was an idea that might be useful! A wicked smile lit his face, perhaps he could experiment with something else while he had the chance. The wretched boy was still perched on the edge of the cliff chatting with his beast. The Wraith conjured up a ball of red flame, which washed over the boy, but did
no harm. The sorcerer snarled and tossed a ball of black flame at the infuriating boy, who suddenly vanished in a wisp of smoke as the fire consumed him. Excellent. The sundrake reared up on his haunches, startled, only to meet the same fate as his master as a second gout of black flame consumed him. Most excellent indeed!

  He crept from his hiding place and said some dreadful words, targeting the largest male drake that still perched on the edge of the cliff. The beast instantly fell over dead. He then said a few more choice words and the Dreadlord suddenly appeared, quite astonished to find himself suddenly somewhere else. He glanced in surprise at the Wraith and then stared at the dead beast before him. Said the Wraith, “I need you for a little experiment. Cut the heart out of the beast.” The Dreadlord stared at him but drew his dagger and did as he was bidden. Grath held the cold organ up for the Wraith’s inspection, but it suddenly vanished in an acrid wisp of black flame.

  The Dreadlord glared at the Wraith for his impertinence but then turned as a terrible groaning noise arose from the dead beast. “Will it to stand,” commanded the Wraith. Grath did so and the beast stood shakily, as if it knew not the use of its limbs. The Wraith shook his head, “it has no mind of its own. It is simply an animated corpse. You will have to do all the thinking for it.” Grath shook his head, he liked his previous pet far better, but this would have to suffice, at least for now. He climbed aback the awkward thing and it laboriously sprang from the cliff and fell headlong into the Sea. The Wraith laughed, apparently Grath had some learning to do. He spoke a few fell words and vanished from sight.

  Kipril gasped as he felt the black fire consume him, then all was darkness, and suddenly blindingly bright. He blinked as the light dimmed to that of the setting sun and stared about in wonder, for he had returned to the castle he had just vacated. With a shrill squawk, Kaza appeared suddenly atop him, or would have had he not quickly dodged the beast’s abrupt appearance. The drake righted himself and said blandly, as if describing the weather, “that was unpleasant.”

  Kipril grinned, “no hyperbole?”

  Kaza shrugged, “I did not think it needed any as you have just experienced the same phenomenon. What was that?”

  Kipril said thoughtfully, “it was likely that dark mage or whatever he is. At least this time he cannot simply kill me and be done with it.” He clutched the hilt of his sword, “nor am I completely helpless any longer. I suppose we had best be about our next adventure.”

  Kaza was staring intently at something in the rough waves below. He tucked his wings and dove like a kingfisher after minnows. He flapped back to the ridge he had just vacated with a girl clutched tightly in his foreclaws; his keen eyes had seen her small vessel about to break up on the rocks below.

  Kipril smiled shyly, he had never had much to do with women during his lifetime; he wondered how to interact with such mysterious creatures beyond it. Kaza set the girl gently on her feet and she looked both embarrassed and quite pleased all at once. Said she, “I thank you for your assistance, but I was quite able to handle matters myself. That is quite the trick you have taught your drake, I never thought them so daring. I am Princess Lyra, by the way. Can you tell me anything of this supposedly haunted castle?”

  Kipril grinned; Kaza goggled at the garrulousness of the creature. Kipril said, “I am sorry if we disturbed you, but you seemed in peril and in need of immediate assistance. Kaza learned that trick on his own; he is quite an intelligent creature. What do you care to know about this old ruin?”

  She smiled slowly as she replied, “it was rumored that this was where the fabulous Sundrake was last seen, but the creature seems to have vanished, along with everyone who used to dwell here. It is said that every last one of those strange monks were murdered and that their ghosts still haunt the ruins. There are also whispers of a great treasure in this place, if one is bold enough to go after it. What is to come of Vesper if the legendary Sundrake has perished? My father even promised to let me wed the bold warrior who had managed to tame the great beast, but alas, it seems he too has vanished. Or has he?” She focused her piercing gaze upon the boy and he felt like a mouse at the mercy of a hawk.

  He replied after a significant pause, “the rumors contain a seed of truth. The Sundrake and her master are no more, as are most of the former occupants of this drear ruin.” She gasped in horror, no doubt wondering what would come of her father’s realm. Kipril continued, unfazed by her reaction, “two of the former occupants did survive and should be roaming the wide world, trying to breath new life into their ancient order. The only treasures to be found within are the collected writings of said monks, which are truly precious indeed. As for ghosts, I think such whispers are truly hearsay.”

  “Do you not care what is to come of us all without the Sundrake?” said she in horror.

  Kipril shook his head, “I think you misinterpret prophecy my Lady. The wording was originally that the Sundrake and its rider would be the ‘key’ to driving back the coming evil, not that they themselves would necessarily drive it back personally. The loss of the beast and its rider is regrettable, but fear not, for they have played their part; the Master has everything well in hand, you need not fear for the future of Vesper.” She seemed somewhat mollified by his words but troubled that such wisdom sprang from what seemed to be just another grubby peasant child. He changed the subject somewhat, “can you tell me how fare the refugees of this place?”

  She shrugged, “well enough I suppose, my father has granted them a place within the city itself, an old palace once belonging to a miserly old lord no one has seen in several years. They seem to be doing quite well for themselves, it is all the rage among the young lordlings to do nothing but listen to these men prattle on day and night. Which is part of the reason I am here.” Kipril cocked his head, much as Kaza was wont to do, and she continued, “it has grown dreadfully dull around Versa since that little contest. The boys do nothing but study and there has been nothing heard of the Sundrake in months. So I set out to find it and the boy who had mastered the beast, and if not them, then perhaps the treasure or a few ghosts perhaps, anything is better than sitting idly around the palace all day.”

  Kipril frowned, “why not fly a drake rather than risk the Sea?”

  She shook her head, “you do not know?” She stared at the boy, “where have you been for the last few months?” He smiled enigmatically as she continued, “the creatures have grown suddenly skittish of people. Most of the riding beasts are unaffected, but the breeding flocks and untrained beasts have become quite feral. No one knows what has come over the creatures, but many assume their days are numbered as far as usefulness. Anyone with a gentle beast is not willing to rent, lend, or sell it, for fear they have become a scarce commodity.”

  Kipril looked to Kaza for some explanation. The beast thought it over and said silently to his companion, “you have experienced a little of the species’ rudimentary telepathic abilities in your interactions with the original Sundrake. They are quite thoughtless creatures, but I get the sense of those lurking in the caves below that something has happened that has scared them even more witless than usual. One of their fellows died quite suddenly in an encounter with a dark man. Those not interacting with humans on a regular basis are now quite truly out of their minds with fear of you.”

  Kipril asked wordlessly, “can you bring them to their senses?”

  Kaza thought deeply for a moment and then there came the sound of confused keening from the caves below. Kaza thought, “I tried to convince them that they need only fear that dark man and his ilk, not all men. It quite confused them but perhaps they will work it out for themselves with time.”

  The Princess stared at the boy in concern, his eyes had taken on a strange glazed look, and he had not spoken for a full five minutes. When Kipril finally came back to himself he found the girl staring at him in astonishment; he blushed like an embarrassed girl but made no reply. �
�Who are you?” came her quiet question.

  He shrugged, grinned impishly, and said, “no one in particular.”

  She shook her head, “are you perhaps one of the ghosts of this place?”

  He grinned, “would a ghost go to all the bother of rescuing you?”

  The girl smiled at the imbecility of the thought but said teasingly, “perhaps if he wishes to have the island to himself and not have to share it eternally with another ghost.”

  “Now that is an interesting thought,” said Kipril with a grin, “if such things as ghosts actually existed.”

  “You do not believe in life after death?” asked she.

  He shook his head, “I certainly believe in an afterlife, I just don’t happen to believe in ghosts. I do not think the Master allows such spirits to wander aimlessly after life is done.” She nodded thoughtfully and then brightened, she was on the haunted island and was more than eager to look around. “Where are you going?” gasped the boy as she suddenly dashed towards the castle gates.

  He was too late, the centaurs easily captured the intruder; she let her indignation and surprise out in a great, undignified, and certainly unladylike squawk. Kipril rolled his eyes, exchanged a pained look with Kaza, and went to rescue the girl. “Unhand me, you fictitious rogues!” squealed she at the top of her lungs.

  “She is harmless,” said Kipril, peeping in the gate.

  Katar shook his head, “we are not worried about her causing us problems, we are concerned that that lethargic bear might make an accidental end of her if she is bold enough to poke around where she should not.”

  She gaped at the boy, “what language are you speaking?”

  Kipril grinned, he had had no idea that he was not speaking the tongue common to the men of Vesper. He looked at her captors and Katar smiled, “you speak our tongue quite well for an outlander.”

  He shook his head in wonder at yet another new skill he seemed to possess at need. He said to Lyra, “they will let you go if you promise them not to get yourself killed.”

  She stared at him, “I would appreciate that myself, how am I to accomplish this feat?”

  He smiled, “just avoid the first cave as you head down the path to the bottom of the cliff.” She frowned and he continued, “there is a rather grumpy bear lurking within and he would rather cut you to ribbons than ask questions.” She shivered and nodded her agreement and her guards reluctantly released her.

  She poked around the ruin quite eagerly, but could find little of interest save a library overstuffed with writings peculiar to the Master and His ways. She even skipped down the path and nosed about the caves, all save the first that is, but found nothing but several jumpy drakes. She sighed and came back to where Kipril waited with Kaza, asking, “would you care to go home?”

  She shook her head, “no, but there really is no great secret here?”

  Kipril shook his head, “only if you are looking for the meaning of life, the direction and purpose we all seek, but then you could have found that by listening to the Keepers in your own city.”

  She nodded and said, “yes, but here I could truly study it in peace. I will stay on for a time and see what I can learn about this precious Master of yours. Those monks could scratch a living from these rocky hills, so can I. Who knows, maybe I can keep this bear of yours from eating any unwary pilgrims.” Kipril’s reply was lost in a great roar from Kaza, who was suddenly gleaming like the sun. Lyra whispered in awe, “the Sundrake?”

  Kipril grinned, “a Sundrake, there are a few of them about now though the original is dead.” She then screamed in terror as a great black shadow descended; Kipril shuddered, but drew his sword. Where had Grath found another mount? But this one smelled of carrion and he knew that he could best the thing, for it was no mortal creature but an animated rack of bones.

  Grath roared, “give me the Princess, boy and you need not be injured.”

  Kipril shook his head and said, “do not be ridiculous, you will have to come and get her!”

  Lyra stared at him in horror, wondering how this was a good idea, but then transferred her stunned gaze to the monster astride the monstrosity. As the beast touched down with a roar, it suddenly fell to dust, as did its master. Kipril slid his sword back into its sheath and said in awe, “merely touching this island destroys them!”

  Kaza’s roar had brought the centaurs up to see what all the fuss was about. Katar replied, “certainly, such unholy creatures could not set foot on this island. The Master Himself has walked here and the blood of His servants has soaked into the very stones, nay, this island shall be a place of sanctuary for those whom the Enemy would otherwise destroy.”

  Lyra said in shock, “I understand little of this, but I would be the first to seek protection and enlightenment upon these shores. That thing came hunting me.”

  The centaurs exchanged a silent look and Katar nodded firmly, “certainly my Lady, come with us.” They nodded farewell to Kipril, Lyra gave him a faint smile, still in shock, and then they vanished into the castle. Kipril mounted the Sundrake and the stones and the Sea were once more left to their lonely vigil.

  They appeared in a little copse, Kipril clad as a mediocre warrior astride one of those heavy, quadrupedal riding beasts, Kaza’s latest attempt at disguise. A rustling in the nearby bushes drew their attention and Ian emerged, followed by a Runner, who nodded at them in greeting. The boy was clad as he was the day Kipril had come seeking help to destroy the corrupted Sundrake. Then the thought occurred to him that perhaps this was that same day. He frowned, not quite comprehending that he was no longer vulnerable to the whims of Time. He could quite literally be in two places at once. He grinned, the physics of eternity would be an interesting study. He smiled at Ian, “come my fine page, we had best go find your employers and see if I might not join their party.”

  The boy mounted his Runner and grinned, “as you wish it sir, though I must warn you, they are not the politest men you will ever meet.”

  Kipril smiled, “hopefully we will not give ourselves away by our grievous possession of manners. Come boy, and do not forget the luggage.”

  Kaza exchanged an exasperated look with Kyra, “do you understand any of this?”

  She snorted a laugh, “no, but then we are not humans. I doubt they completely understand Sundrakes.” The boys shook their head in amusement as their faithful mounts moved back towards the little market town as the sun was setting.

  The beasts were borne away to the stable by a slave boy about their own age. Kipril wondered if there was not something he could do for the lad, but his sole business now was the errand upon which he was sent. He would have to trust the Master to care for all other matters. Ian dashed ahead into the inn where his masters were still seated where he had left them. It seemed their midday repast had gradually become an early supper. They were well into their cups when the boy politely asked if a most esteemed personage could join them in their meal. They stared drunkenly at the strange warrior who approached their table but no one said anything, save one of the men who belched loudly. Kipril drew up a chair and began helping himself to the remains of their feasting, solely focused on his food, he did not bother looking at his companions, who just stared at his temerity in incomprehension. Apparently sated, Kipril finally addressed his companions, “I would join your little party, if you are in need of another sword.”

  Grunted one, Throg by name, “we no need help…” He hiccupped and continued, “just fine alone…”

  Kipril raised one eyebrow, “you did not think I would require compensation on our first quest together did you? If I am a complete imbecile, you are out nothing and I may even do you the favor of getting myself killed. But if I am useful, then we can come to terms thereafter.” This seemed agreeable to all and they solemnized their vows by falling into a drunken slumber where they sat. Kipril shook his head amusedly, and with Ian’s help, got the ine
briated warriors into bed.

  Once alone in the common room, the regular patrons having scattered abroad due to the presence of such rough and dangerous men, Kipril sat with Ian in a dark corner, lest they be disturbed or overheard. Said Kipril, “I have no idea what we are about tomorrow but it will be dreadfully dangerous to your late masters.”

  Ian nodded, “it shall certainly be an interesting day. They have arranged to meet with a mysterious fellow who promises rich reward for their faithful service. They have no god but their bellies, which means the man who pays them the most owns their souls.”

  Kipril shivered, “that is exactly what they will be bartering tomorrow unless we can somehow stop them.”

  Ian frowned, “how can we make a mortal man do or not do something? I thought such was forbidden us?”

  Kipril grinned, “sorry, poor choice of words. I meant we can warn them and only if they listen to us can this dreadful fate be avoided.”

  Ian grinned, “I assumed that was what you meant, but I am so new at this that I just wanted to make sure I was not missing anything.”

  Kipril shared his smile, “we are all new at this.” His smile became grim, “so too are our foes, but I wonder how long that mage has been around?” Ian could only shrug in answer.

  Morning came far too early for our esteemed warriors, but they dared not miss the interview they had scheduled for later that day. Only as they emerged from their rooms did they realize they had somehow obtained a companion in the course of the evening. They exchanged glares, wondering who to blame, but finally just gave up and vented their anger on Ian and the stable boy. After a passable breakfast, they were in their saddles and riding hard for the strange rendezvous they had been given, but people who could afford the services of such men were often eccentric and the small company never asked questions as long as they were well paid. After much abuse of the menials, they were off at a brisk pace and would be precisely on time for the meeting scheduled for the middle of the night in the midst of a supposedly haunted forest.

  Kipril said to Ian as they stopped to breath the beasts, “I know little of our destination, my late master did not speak much of anything, most especially rumors of the Haunted Wood. Know you anything of it?”

  Ian shook his head, “not much, only that it is said that it is folly to enter, for some do not come out.”

  Throg lashed at the boy with the flat of his sword, snarling, “you will not fraternize with your betters boy.” Ian dashed off to see to his chores while the man glared at Kipril, “and you would do well to keep the boy in his place.” He snarled and trudged back to where his companions were busy with a flask of something fermented; the boys exchanged a grin.

  They continued on their way and reached the edge of the nefarious wood with the sunset, giving them less than an hour of dim light to find the appointed spot. The stranger had even chosen a moonless night for their meeting. There was a feeble path winding through the thick wood of fir and spruce. The wind moaned morosely through the bows and small creatures scurried and called in the dense foliage. It was not a pleasant ride and would have frozen Ian to his bones, if he had not found a higher calling and knew that there was no such thing as ghosts; he smiled, most people would probably consider him of that mythic race if they but knew his history.

  “I do not like this,” came the silent comment of Kaza to Kipril, “I sense dreadful things ahead.”

  Kipril suddenly spoke, breaking the grave-stillness of his companions, “is this not a foolish idea? Who is this man? Why meet here and at such a grim hour?”

  Throg scoffed, “scared are we?”

  Kipril shook his head, “nay, just wary of evil strangers.” They laughed at him and continued on, forcing him to follow after, just ahead of Ian.

  Throg suddenly drew rein, “then again, it would not be foolish to have the new recruit go first, just in case something goes wrong.”

  Kipril stared at the man, “as you wish, but I think it best if we all turn around immediately.”

  Throg shook his head, “he’s a customer and we never let a customer down. Ahead with you or you can turn back right now.”

  Kipril said plaintively, “do you not care for your lives? For your souls, that you sell them to the highest bidder?”

  The man shrugged, “what use do we have for souls? Life ends eventually so why fear death? On with you.”

  Kipril sighed but took the lead while Ian watched carefully from the rear. Kaza’s sense of dread increased tenfold by the time they found the great ring of standing stones where the meeting was to occur. In the center of the ancient ring lay a long stone with a flattened top, darkly stained. Kipril said quietly, “you still think this a good idea?” Throg shrugged but his companions were looking decidedly nervous.

  “Punctual,” grated a strange voice, “a useful trait in a minion.”

  The riding beasts screeched and pawed in unease, the moment their masters dismounted, they fled into the darkness. The Sundrakes followed the senseless creatures, so as not to stir up controversy. The men stared after their beasts in stunned horror, not liking the idea of losing such valuable creatures or in staying in the clearing with this loathsome man. “Who are you?” came Throg’s trembling reply.

  Sneered the cloaked figure, “it matters not, what matters is your willingness to obey. You obey, I pay, understand?” The men nodded, at last he was speaking sense. “Now,” hissed the stranger, “are you truly wishing to spend the rest of your meager lives spilling your blood for a few coins? Would you rather gain power undreamed and move beyond death into true life?”

  Kipril interposed himself between the stranger and the three uncouth warriors, “what is this you speak of? You are no servant of the Master, therefore you cannot speak of True Life! You will give only a living death.” The man moved faster than thought, striking what should have been a mortal blow.

  Kipril flinched back, avoiding the strike but his companions all gasped in horror as the man continued, “you speak truly, wretch, I am no puppet of the so-called Master. I serve his arch nemesis. As will you, or you will die.” He turned grim eyes upon the three quaking warriors, “well?” Throg stepped forward while his two companions collapsed into a whimpering heap. Hissed the dark man, “at least one of you has sense. Watch and learn what it is to live!” He motioned for the trembling Throg to lay on the toppled stone. Ian reached for his blade but Kipril minutely shook his head, this was Throg’s choice and they could not gainsay him, but they could protect those unwilling to proceed if the creature turned on them. The Wraith drew its dagger and cut the beating heart out of his victim’s chest; the man’s scream was terrible but the hideous laugh of triumph that followed was worse.

  The new Dreadlord sat up and leered at his horrified audience, “who is next?” The remaining mercenaries lay as dead men, too terrified to move, hoping they might wake from this nightmare. Kipril and Ian had their swords out and stood between the two monstrosities and their remaining victims. Throg sneered at Ian, “where did you learn courage, wretch? You would never have become a warrior even had you lived to see your grandchildren. Come, join us and you can be truly powerful.”

  Ian said, unafraid, “I have chosen my fate.”

  The Wraith snarled, “are you mad to think you can harm either of us with your pitiful swords? Move aside, those two are mine and then I will make you pay for your idiocy.”

  Kipril shook his head, “I think not. They must make a conscious choice. You will not touch them else.”

  The Wraith deferred to the Dreadlord, “you may try your hand at them.” The creature picked up its sword and ran at Kipril, who easily dodged the charge and brought his own blade around to stab the creature in the back. Throg whimpered and fell to dust. The Wraith shrieked, “what is this? I had heard dreadful rumors but it cannot be true! We are invincible.”

  Kipril shook his head and approached the drea
d mage, “you were, at least until the Master intervened on behalf of mortal men. Your plans will not succeed.” The thing screeched and muttered something under its breath, but the spell that had killed the sea drake had no effect whatsoever on Kipril. The pair advanced towards the flummoxed creature, who backed away trembling in terror, but first one and then the other suddenly vanished in a gout of black flame.

  A taunting laugh filled the clearing, as another Wraith emerged, “you did not believe me, did you? I warned you of those fools but you would not listen, at least we still have our victims.” They shrank back momentarily in terror as a great light and an awful roar filled the stone circle. Two large, winged reptiles, glowing like a sunset, swept in and each took hold of one of the nearly insensible men and vanished from sight. “Sundrakes,” spat the second Wraith, “I begin to hate the very idea of the bothersome creatures.”

  “You have always been obsessed with that old legend and look what it has availed you,” sneered the other.

  He snarled, “I expect more respect from you in future, for it was I that brought you here and showed you what true power is!”

  The other Wraith shrugged, “what matters that? We are equal, or rather I am the superior in wisdom and cunning. I will do as I please, but you will pay for this bungling. We are in dire need of recruits if we are to counteract these fools and take charge of Vesper, let alone the world. Fail again and our master will be quite displeased.” He muttered under his breath and vanished; his irate companion did likewise, leaving the grim clearing again to itself.

  The Sundrakes appeared over the sanctuary island, still clutching their prone passengers in their foreclaws. The banished boys suddenly appeared beneath them, sprawled on the turf. They shuddered as their senses returned and they stood, looking up at the amused creatures above them. Lyra came dashing out of the castle in wonder and gasped as the drakes landed and deposited two quivering and half-mad men on the stony ground. Said she in horror, “they look as if they have been scared out of their senses.”

  Ian bowed to the lady and said, “quite true, lady. Perhaps your gentle touch can bring them back from the brink of hysteria.”

  She smiled at Kipril, “I have been going over those scrolls of yours, quite interesting, really. I think these poor souls could use a dose of it themselves.”

  The two centaurs came striding up the path and looked at the two boys in alarm; Katar asked, “what are we to do with such men? They cannot be allowed to poke around in certain places without risking mortal danger.”

  Kipril smiled, “do you not possess a skill that might be useful in a case like this?”

  Katar stroked his bearded chin and then smiled, “a good idea. We can make a thing appear other than it is, at need. We can simply arrange for a certain cave to disappear from casual view.” He frowned, “but what happens if they do not wish to remain here?”

  Ian said, “let them go whither they will. They are refugees not prisoners.”

  Katar faced Lyra, “are you sure about this, my lady?” Her grin was answer enough.

  The boys carried the fainted mercenaries into the keep, saw to their comfort, and then prepared to go. Lyra took hold of Kipril’s sleeve and said pleadingly, “could you not stay for a time? It is quite lonely here with only the centaurs for company.”

  Kipril smiled sadly, “nay lady, I must be about our Master’s business.” She nodded and watched him go. She had seen many strange happenings since coming to this island, his sudden disappearance did not faze her in the least. She returned to the keep to see to her patients.

  Kipril glanced around the corner of the barn, he was not sure why he was in hiding, for he knew no mortal eye could see him at that particular moment. An unshaven man with a bright red face charged out of the house in a drunken rage; the boy shuddered, as he watched the man raise a crude whip over his head and lash out at the nearest target, one of two half-starved slaves that worked the farm while their master slowly drank himself to death. The boy’s piteous screams only seemed to infuriate the man the more, so did the lash rain down with harder and more frequent strokes. The boy, bleeding and nearly insensible, had ceased his protests. The man grunted in contentment and trudged back into the house to slake his sudden thirst. Kipril rounded the barn and dashed to the boy’s side; he knelt beside the prone form and gently raised his head. The boy quivered at his touch and turned plaintive eyes upon the one he felt nearby, “so sorry, master…,” came his tremulous voice.

  Kipril said gently, “nay, fear not, for soon your true Master will give you peace.” The boy relaxed at these hopeful words, but soon after he drew his last, shuddering breath. Kipril shook his head in disgust at such a waste of a young life, took up the dead boy, and had soon vanished aback the ever swift Kaza, grateful that his own mortal master, though gruff and distant, had never been abusive. Kipril dismounted with his burden and made his way into the keep, Lyra dashed up with curiosity and eagerness nearly radiating from her person. She gasped in horror when she saw what it was he carried; he said grimly as he laid the boy gently on the paving stones, “I am sorry, there is not much you can do for this one, Lyra. How fare your patients?”

  She shrugged, “they are still abed, hardly believing what they have seen or that they were somehow spared from it. They shall not trouble you.” The last was said with a great deal of confusion, certainly wondering what he was about.

  He smiled at her bewilderment and said, “fear not, you shall soon see what is afoot.” She seemed on the verge of saying something else but Corbin and the centaurs emerged from the part of the castle that housed the library.

  “Kipril!” came the astonished voice of the young Keeper, asked he somewhat awkwardly, “you are well?”

  Kipril beamed, “never better, and you? How fares the task the Master set you and Grim?”

  The boy glowed, “it is a miracle certainly! The entire city is enthralled with all we have to say; we have not room enough for all of our students! Grim sent me back here to pick up a few books he thinks would be helpful…” He trailed off as he stared in astonishment at the bleeding form at Kipril’s feet.

  Kipril said quietly, “death is not the end, only the beginning.” Lyra and Corbin exchanged a puzzled look but said nothing as Kipril made for the gate, “if you will excuse me, I shall return shortly.” He dashed from the castle as the two humans looked to the centaurs for answer. They only shrugged and flicked their tails lazily, time would reveal what it would.

  The boy dashed down the path to the hidden cave, which his strange eyes easily saw. The bear snored on without waking as the boy passed unnoticed, like a ray of sunshine. The great ursine creature mumbled in his sleep and rolled to his other side as the sound of someone drawing water from the forbidden pool came to him, but he did not stir as the boy made his way back to the castle. He returned to find his friends awaiting him in complete befuddlement while the centaurs had returned to their own tasks. They said nothing as he knelt beside the lifeless form and poured water from his flask upon the inert boy. To their astonishment, the boy gasped and started to sit up. He looked about himself in wonder and awe; he shared a delighted smile with Kipril and then nodded cordially in greeting to the two astounded mortals, before standing and giving them a more formal bow.

  Lyra smiled in amazement, “this is quite the miracle.”

  Kipril grinned, “if you are going to spend much time in this place, you had best get used to such strange phenomena.”

  Corbin shook his head in wonder, “amazing, but I have seen stranger things still in this place.” He shared a smile with Kipril. Bayard, the newcomer, looked at him curiously. Corbin smiled ruefully and said, “it is a long story, but come, first you must tell us your own?”

  The boy shrugged as they all made their way out of the castle and down the path that led to the sea cliffs. He said as they walked, “there is not much to tell. I was a happy little boy who
lived with his mother and older brother; we were destitute but never lacking in love. My father had died at sea shortly after I was born, leaving us penniless, but we somehow survived.” Continued he, “at least until my mother died. We had no relatives or anyone who would care to take us in. We found ourselves very soon enslaved and sold to a rather dreadful man. We worked hard, but never hard enough to suit him. He beat us often. I guess this time he went too far. I only wonder what will come of my brother in my absence?”

  Kipril laid an encouraging hand on his shoulder, “his fate, as well as ours, is firmly in our Master’s keeping. Take heart!” The boy smiled eagerly and then glanced about curiously. A short distance below, the sea roared and fretted at the base of the cliff; the whole cliff face that rose above them was riddled with ancient caves. He looked to Kipril in growing eagerness. The boy answered the unasked question, “we need to get you mounted if you are to be of any use in this service.” Kipril looked to Corbin, “can you whistle up one of the beasts?”

  Corbin grinned, “I can try, it has been some time, however and I wonder how many are still here?” He did as requested and a roar of eager surprise came from one of the nearest caves. The sea drake emerged from her lair and cocked her head, to stare at the boy she once knew. She keened a greeting and nudged Corbin with her head, he obligingly scratched it for her. Kipril handed his flask to Corbin and said, “give her a sip of this.” The boy frowned but did as he was instructed. She snorted in surprise and then squawked in wonder. The others gasped in awe to see a Sundrake suddenly appear before them where once a common sea drake had been.

  The newly awakened creature stared about her in astonishment and confusion as she tried to process everything of which she was so suddenly aware. She frowned down at the humans beneath her and her eyes roiled in irritation as she snarled, “you expect what of me?”

  Kipril silently asked Kaza to join them and the noble creature suddenly appeared in the air above them. The boy silently commented, “that was fast.”

  Kaza replied just as silently, “you said it was urgent.” He glanced at the new drake and added, “which it certainly is.”

  Kaza’s appearance had distracted her for a moment, but as he landed, her original fury returned. She snarled at the newly arrived drake, “do you truly demean yourself in this manner?”

  Kaza cocked his head and asked, “demean myself? How so madam?”

  She snorted in derision, “you actually allow these pesky creatures upon your back?”

  Kaza frowned in incomprehension, “I do not understand? How is it demeaning to do that for which our race was made?”

  She hissed, “I will do no such thing. Now that I have a rational mind, I will not be used as a beast of burden. That is fine for a mindless brute, but not for a thinking creature. I will be a slave to no one.”

  Kipril said quietly, “I spent my entire life a slave, this is not slavery but true freedom.”

  She snorted in disgust, “if it is true freedom, then I have a choice and I say no.”

  Kipril shook his head, “that is the same attitude that led to man’s downfall in the Beginning. Such rebellion against our Master cannot come without a price.”

  Laughed she, “then let him come and punish me if he will. I shall be my own mistress and decide what is best for me.” Suddenly, she was no longer a Sundrake, as her hide took on the hue of dried blood; she keened in surprise, “what has happened?! I felt such power only a moment ago and now, it is gone!” She turned baleful eyes upon Kipril, “what have you done?”

  Kipril shook his head, “it is none of my doing. You have refused your Master’s call, thus your full potential will never be realized and you have been thus cursed for your rebellion.” She hissed in fury and lashed out at the boy, but her claws passed harmlessly through him.

  Kaza whistled, “she is mortal!”

  She turned furious eyes upon the other drake and snarled, “what of it? I am still Queen of my own destiny.” Kipril sent a silent plea to Kaza, who immediately snatched up Lyra and bore the horrified girl back to the keep. Corbin had drawn closer to his companions, as it became clear the creature was truly dangerous. His fearful movements drew her merciless gaze as she snarled in delight, “I remember you! Never content to walk, you always made me your slave when I had not mind enough to resent it. Let us see if you are as impervious to my claws as your companion.”

  “No!” shouted Kipril, but it was too late, the creature’s teeth made short work of the boy; she seemed to relish the taste of his blood.

  Her hide darkened to deepest black and her eyes sparkled like rubies. She slashed at Bayard, but he too was apparently beyond her reach. She hissed in fury and pleasure, “I cannot take my revenge on the two of you perhaps, but there is a whole world waiting for me to lay it waste. I will start with that wretched castle and your precious monks.” She took wing and made for the castle that perched on the heights; Kaza suddenly appeared and the boys scrambled aboard, Kipril bearing what little was left of Corbin. The Sundrake vanished and reappeared in the courtyard of the castle, ere the beast arrived. Lyra and the centaurs scattered to make way for the sudden appearance of a Sundrake in their midst. They looked in horror upon what had come of the poor Keeper. The beast roared overhead, hovering over the keep, bringing all attention to bear upon her. There was no time to mourn their fallen comrade.

  “Enough,” came the Voice that commands the stars. Every creature present found itself upon its knees as the Master stepped into their midst. The hovering monster laughed in derision, thinking she could best such a miniscule creature. He glanced up at the beast and asked simply, “you have Refused?” She trumpeted her defiance to the skies. He asked, “you have murdered My servant and intend this to be but the beginning of the havoc you wish to wreak?” She roared in eagerness. He stared at her with those wonderful, terrible eyes and even she had to squeak in fear to find herself the target of that gaze.

  She trembled in midair, wondering why she had thought this such a great idea after all, but instead of seeking redemption, she snarled her insolence and dared Him to do His worst. “Very well,” said He, as a judge bored with such a common crime, passed down his verdict, “as you have Chosen this wretched state, so shall you continue until you have sense enough to return to Me. You will not, however, be allowed to wreak destruction upon the rest of creation. Therefore, I shall send you to a great island, far from any civilized land where you may live out the rest of your days. You shall find all you need and more to survive quite comfortably. But if you ever willingly leave that place, you shall die. So shall all of your race be banished thence when they choose to use their power to hurt their fellow creatures. Be gone!” She squawked in surprise and suddenly vanished.

  He then turned His gentle eyes upon the ruin that was all the mortal remnants of Corbin. He touched the unmoving mass with His horn and roused the boy to life. He looked up with joy into the face of his Master and then shared a wondrous look with the others. The Master shook His head, “I will no longer call an unthinking beast to conscious awareness lest such happen again. They will be much easier to manage, at least from a mortal perspective, when they are born rather than made. If one turns to evil, it can be dealt with ere it is fully grown and a greater menace to others. They will again be found among the clutches of the sea drakes and will seek out those to whom they are bound when the time is right.”

  He turned His great eyes upon Lyra and said, “child, would you be of far more benefit to those who come here seeking knowledge, sanctuary, or healing?” She nodded meekly but eagerness glowed in her eyes as He touched her with His horn, “you are still mortal, but you will not age though you can be killed, much like the centaurs who assist you. You shall be able to heal any mortal injury or sickness save death and you shall have a deep understanding of all those things mortal men should know of Me. I also grant you the wisdom you shall need to instruc
t and guide those who come to you looking for purpose, meaning, and direction. All such shall be granted to you as long as you remain here in My service. Should you choose to go back to a more usual life, so too shall your skills and lifespan become again those common to mortal men.” And then He was gone. They exchanged a wondering look and were silent for many minutes in sheer awe at the Presence they had just experienced.

  When they could finally speak, Corbin asked, “what came of the drake?”

  Kipril quickly explained and then told the full tale of what had happened by the caves for the benefit of Lyra and the centaurs. He smiled at Lyra, “and what will you do with your newfound skills?”

  She grinned, “newfound? I have been at this for some little time now, the Master has just granted me a skillset that will be invaluable to all those that will inevitably be drawn to this place. Now I can do my job all the better.” She looked to Corbin curiously, “shall you return to the capital?”

  He smiled ruefully, “I do not know how I am going to explain to Grim that I got myself killed on so simple an errand, but I am no longer in the service of the Keepers.” He exchanged an enthusiastic grin with Kipril and Bayard, saying, “I now serve the Knights.”

  Kaza glanced about and asked, “how are we to get the two of you mounted if we have to wait for the next generation of Sundrakes to hatch and mature?”

  Kipril laughed, “you forget, my dear friend, that we exist outside of time and are not subject to its whims. We can be Whenever we need to be. That is, if you do not mind giving our friends a lift.”

  Kaza shook his head, “of course, hop aboard lads.”

  Lyra gaped, “I know you are larger than a normal drake, but will you not be hard pressed to bear three passengers?”

  Kaza blinked in amusement, “nay dear lady, these rascals do not actually weigh anything. I could carry a dozen if it suited me.” He frowned, “I had better get these lads mounted or I will be carrying a dozen. Farewell.”

  “Wait!” grinned Corbin, “my books!” Lyra shook her head but fetched the forgotten tomes, handed them to the boy, and Kaza soon lofted himself into the air and vanished.

  They landed in a field outside the capital and all three dismounted. Kaza stretched lazily and said, “I shall await you here. I do not think this great city holds any interest for me, neither would the rulers thereof be happy with the commotion I would certainly cause.”

  They bid him ado and made their way into the city, clad as three farm boys. Corbin asked of Bayard, “have you any idea what we have gotten ourselves into?”

  Bayard shook his head and grinned like a maniac, “no, but it shall truly be an adventure!”

  Kipril laughed, “you will soon figure things out and I won’t need to lead you around by the hand.”

  Corbin smiled, “it will be I that am leading this expedition, as I am certainly the most urbane and civilized amongst us.”

  Kipril shook his head in amusement, “you mean you are the only one who has not spent the majority of his life a slave in some remote corner of Vesper. Though it does help that you’ve been one of the leading Keepers in the city these past months. It shall be interesting to see what you and Grim have wrought.”

  Corbin shook his head, “no, what the Master has wrought through us. It is none of our doing, come!” He led on eagerly and the others followed hastily after, lest they be lost in the crowds.

  Corbin was right, the former palace was filled with people who bustled about eagerly in pursuit of all that the Keepers taught. Kipril smiled appreciatively, “this certainly exceeds anything we accomplished in that crumbling castle!”

  Bayard smiled, “now your castle serves a completely different purpose, perhaps a better one.”

  Kipril replied, “not better, just different. The Keepers have a more important role than ever will we, theirs is the privilege to spread the Master’s words abroad.”

  They had entered the main vestibule of the great building and Corbin led them through the winding corridors to a little room at the very back that Grim had taken for his own use. Corbin knocked in a certain manner, a voice asked them to enter, and so they did. Grim sat behind a desk with a stack of papers and books before him, he smiled to see Corbin returned, and then looked curiously at his companions. His eyes widened in surprise as he recognized Kipril but he said nothing as Corbin greeted his former master and set the requested books on his desk. Grim said, “it is good to have you back lad, but you have returned with strange companions.” Corbin was about to reply when the door swung open and a black swathed man burst into the room. He sneered at the three boys, pushed them aside in his haste to approach the man behind the desk, and then cackled in delight as he raised his hands to work some vile spell. Corbin rolled his eyes at the Wraith’s dramatics, drew his dagger, and pierced the creature through the heart. It hissed as it melted into nothingness.

  Corbin put up his weapon and continued as if the whole episode had never happened, “as I was about to say before we were so rudely interrupted.” He waited for Grim to close his gaping mouth and continued, “there has been a minor incident at the keep and I am afraid I must resign from the Keepers.”

  Grim shook himself and stared at his former pupil, “you had best start at the beginning.” The boys exchanged an impish grin as Corbin told the whole tale. The astounded Grim shook his head, “that is quite the story, I would not believe it had I not seen you dispatch that creature so easily or had you not arrived in company with one I know to live beyond death. This news you bring of the Sundrakes is quite interesting in itself. How are the creatures to be managed?”

  Kipril grinned, “they will manage themselves I think. Do you mind if I haunt your school for a time? This will not be the last assassination attempt I think, or at least it won’t be the Enemy‘s last attempt to infiltrate or discredit your school.”

  Grim smiled wryly, “I doubt there would be anything I could do to stop you, but you are most welcome lad!” He laughed heartily, “besides, I need someone to replace my best teacher!”

  They all shared a smile and then Bayard said, “we had best be off.”

  Corbin nodded, “as I have been replaced, let us be about our own business.” They bowed and vanished from the room. Grim looked at Kipril in wonder, but the boy only smiled.

  The boys exited the school unremarked and moved towards the marketplace where they exchanged an excited grin and parted company, each off on his first adventure. Bayard had not gone far when he felt a firm grip on his shoulder and a hulking figure turned him about and snarled with horrid breath not a hand’s breadth from his face, “you! Thought you could run away, did you? Well, we’ll see about that!” Bayard’s former master took him by the collar and drug him back to the sleazy inn where he was staying. He took his half-starved beast from the stables, drew the boy into the saddle before him, and together they set forth for home, the man grumbling all the way about runaway slaves in between swigs from his flask. He had come to town to find a replacement for the missing boy and was quite astonished to find the nuisance himself, so it seemed to him a wasted trip, why could the wretch not have stayed home in the first place and save him the trouble? They arrived at the dilapidated farmstead a few awkward days later. The man snarled, “go find your brother. In the morning I have a plan for the both of you.” He laughed darkly and went into the house.

  Bayard stared curiously after but soon hastened to find his sundered sibling. He found Hern in the loft of the barn, in their usual sleeping place. The boy gasped in wonder to see his missing brother alive. He scurried down from the loft and stared at what he thought to be a ghost and stuttered, “I saw him beat you nigh unto death! Then that stranger came and you both vanished suddenly from my sight. What has happened?”

  Bayard embraced his flummoxed sibling and said, “I am here and no ghost, as you can see. There is something I must accomplish here, but then I will be gone aga
in upon other errands.”

  Hern hissed, “but the master!”

  Bayard grinned, “holds no power over me. You must trust our true Master.”

  Hern frowned, “you still believe those old tales that mother used to tell? Where was he when we were sold to the likes of that brutal drunk? Where was he the day you vanished?”

  Bayard shook his head, “where He has always been, beside us and within us, assuming we believe! I have seen things to make your heart stop with joy! You must have faith brother, for the tales are true. He never promised an easy road, not in this fallen world, but He promised never to leave us alone upon it. And to that He has been true.”

  Hern shook his head, “whatever makes you happy. Come, we had best get some rest, the master has grim plans for the morrow.” They climbed into the loft and waited for morning.

  Dawn came and their master furiously demanded to know why they were still abed. He pointed at the path leading down to the beach, if path it could be called. He laughed darkly and ordered them to descend the steep incline that was more vertical than horizontal. They slid and scrambled their way down the rickety ladders, narrow steps, and steep trail that descended to the Sea. Said their master in grim amusement as they reached the bottom, “now we will see what you wretches are worth. There was a wild drake that nested down here, the eggs hatched, and the young are nearly fledged. You two are going to catch one for me or your lives will be worth nothing. There is one I especially want. They say the Sundrake is dead, but I have seen it. One of the little brutes must be the famed creature and it will be mine.”

  They exchanged a curious look and dashed out onto the sand, both wondering how they were to accomplish this strange deed, as neither had any idea of what to do with a drake, tame or wild, let alone the legendary Sundrake. Bayard had his ideas but nothing he could broach to his brother. “Wait,” snarled their master, “you will need fresh meat to attract the brutes. They have not been tamed to people and only food will bring them.” He raised his dagger and slashed viciously at the nearest boy; Hern fell to his knees with a shriek, clutching at his ruined chest and gasping for air. Bayard grabbed the mortally wounded boy by the shoulders and drug him away from the knife wielding maniac that had been their master. His lust for gold had overcome what little remained of his sanity, eroded as it was by years of constant drink. He jeered and hollered at them, but Bayard did not heed him and Hern was beyond caring, having slumped into unconsciousness. The drakes had fled with the sudden smell of blood and the cacophony erupting from the drunk, all save one. The creature the murderer so desperately desired approached the two boys, sniffing curiously at the moribund lad with a mournful keen. He looked Corbin deep in the eyes, bugled in triumph, leapt upon the prone boy, and all three suddenly vanished. The old drunkard swooned in horror, cracked his skull upon a stone, and never moved more.

  The two boys and the fledgling suddenly appeared in the midst of the crumbling keep, Lyra rushed to their side only moments after they materialized. She laid a firm hand on the stricken Hern and immediately he gasped back to consciousness, glancing about himself in wonder. Bayard drew the shaky boy to his feet and said, “do you believe in miracles now?”

  Hern shook his head in wonder, “I am starting to, where are we? How did we get here and how is it I still live?” He gasped as the centaurs came trotting up and looked awkwardly at his feet as Lyra tried to comfort him. The young Sundrake squawked in hunger and Bayard urged the creature to venture down to the Sea and hunt; it keened its approval and quickly vanished out of the keep. Hern continued to stare in mystification as Bayard tried to explain a little of what had happened, there were things he could not reveal to his brother and others that he would not understand.

  “Perhaps you would like to speak with others who have been here a little longer?” asked she. The boy nodded dazedly and she led him deeper into the keep; Lyra smiled warmly over her shoulder at Bayard as she walked away.

  Corbin found his way out of the city to the field where Kaza lay dozing in the sun. The great beast wakened at the boy’s approach and shifted lazily to his feet. He greeted the boy, “need a lift lad?” Corbin grinned and nodded his agreement. He leapt to the creature’s back, they were soon aloft, and vanished, though no mortal eye could see them. The drake left him on a sun soaked stretch of beach where he took cover behind several boulders that jutted like teeth from stony gums. Kaza bid him farewell and vanished as suddenly as he had come, leaving the boy for a moment alone. Corbin knew himself now visible to mortal eyes as he cautiously crept from behind the boulders. He made his way down the beach, following the sound of what could only be a struggle. And struggle it was, for a clutch of drake eggs was hatching and each little creature was fighting desperately to free itself of its ovoid prison. A smile came unbidden to the boy’s lips as he watched the hatchlings emerge into the weird and wild world that was now their home. So enchanted was he with the miracle before him that he failed to notice the other person with whom he shared the spectacle.

  The other roughly cleared his throat, drawing a surprised gasp from Corbin but finally getting his attention. “These creatures are mine,” said the young man, “or at least the pick of them is. Long have I searched, and I will not give up what I have sought so long without a fight.”

  Corbin cocked his head, “I have no interest in these common drakes, by all means take those you please.”

  The young man smiled slightly, “I see you are no seeker after common things either. I could have my pick of drakes in the Kingdom, wild or tame, but alas, it is no Sea Drake that will satisfy me. This clutch looks to be a disappointment as well, only one egg remains and that has not yet even rocked or moved. Perhaps it will not even hatch.”

  Corbin asked, “what is it you seek?”

  The stranger smiled grandly, “I wish to possess a Sundrake.”

  The boy gasped, “but it cannot be.”

  The man scoffed, “the creatures are quite real, and if rumor holds true, there are more in existence than the one foretold in legend. The meanest of slaves have been said to have tamed the creatures. And I will have one! I, who have searched all these years, and to no avail. Do you know that I was in the very place where the legendary Sundrake initially appeared, yet I missed it, perhaps by days and now the creature is gone! I am no wretched laborer, I am my master’s greatest servant and only heir, though I am by rights a slave, I am treated more as a favored son and it is my master’s joy to let me do as I please, which is to seek a Sundrake of my own.”

  Corbin shook his head, “but this new generation of Sundrakes are not foolish beasts as their Sea Drake forbears or even as the first of such beasts, they are sentient and thinking creatures! They bond or not with whom it pleases them.”

  The young man scoffed, “what would you know of the matter? Peasant that you are.”

  Corbin’s smile was enigmatical as he replied, “perhaps more than you think. What is this you say of slaves claiming such creatures?”

  Michel, the young man, said, “it has been whispered about that the creatures sometimes bond with men, even the most pitiful or wretched, at hatching and will heed no one else. I am determined to be present when one of the creatures hatches and will thereby claim it for my own.”

  Corbin sat back thoughtfully, could it be true? That mortal men could forge a bond with such a creature! How could it be so? Then he knew to the core of his being, that though such a bond could be forged betwixt a mortal and an immortal creature, it could not last long in such an unequal state, for mortality must very soon give way to eternity or the bond would be broken. He shuddered to think that the creatures were actually harbingers of doom to those they enthralled. Then he smiled, for were there not more wondrous things beyond the door that was death? He had better quit thinking upon such matters like a mortal man and remember to see things from an eternal perspective, for that was now his point of view and per
haps ever should have been. He shivered in delight, the final egg had started to rock. The two boys said nothing but shared an eager gaze, though Michel’s held something of jealousy amidst the zeal. The occupant hissed and snarled its frustration as the egg rocked violently and finally tiny claws tore through the leathery shell. The creature struggled free and shown forth like a sunset; Michel gasped in wonder, pushing Corbin roughly aside as he dove for the hatchling.

  Corbin backed away from the overeager boy, waiting to see what choice the creature would make. Michel offered it a tidbit of meat, which the ravenous hatchling devoured unquestioningly. It keened happily as it gorged itself on the proffered fare. Finally sated, it glanced about sleepily at its human companions. It ignored the squawks and whistles of its clutchmates but studied Michel intently. He slowly reached toward the creature, but it squawked indignantly and snapped at the offending hand. Michel cried out in pain, quickly withdrawing his injured hand. The hatchling then studied Corbin intently, but then hissed in sudden frustration and withdrew from the two boys even as its scales dulled to the color of dried blood. Michel tried to pursue it, but this time the creature drew blood and his hide darkened to black while his eyes glowed like embers, before he suddenly vanished with a surprised squawk.

  Michel stared at Corbin in disbelief, “what just happened?”

  Corbin shook his head in wonder, “the creatures were brought into the world for a purpose and in denying that purpose, they lose some part of themselves, and the Master has decried that any such creatures that taste human blood or are intent on destruction will summarily be banished from the lands of men.”

  Michel mourned, “this makes no sense. The Master? You believe those old fairy tales too?”

  Corbin grinned, “was it not such prophecies that foretold the advent of the Sundrake?”

  Michel sneered, “and what came of it? Nothing!”

  Corbin said quietly, “perhaps more than you know.”

  Michel stared at the strange boy, “what then would you have me do?”

  Corbin smiled, “why not hear what the Keepers have to say or perhaps visit that strange island which is said to be where the first Sundrake disappeared.”

  “Now you speak sense,” said the boy with a vague smile, “I could care less about your Keepers but perhaps there are clues on that mysterious island. Will you accompany me?”

  Corbin nodded, “I must, else I am afoot and alone.”

  The young man whistled in a particular manner and soon the shadow of a Sea Drake darkened the beach where they stood as she screeched eagerly overhead, circling for a landing. She touched down and they scrambled aboard. Corbin grinned, having forgotten what it was to actually fly from one place to another instead of just to suddenly appear. They flew on in silence, and as the sun set, Corbin saw the familiar island beneath them. The creature landed, with barely light enough to see, and her passengers dismounted.

  Lyra dashed out of the keep to greet the new arrivals, a little taken aback to see that one of them was Corbin aback a normal drake. A silent question passed between them and he shook his head minutely in reply. She nodded slightly and then turned to the stranger, asking after their flight and his reason for visiting. Michel walked beside the talkative girl and gave a full account of what he was seeking as Corbin silently followed, wondering what the misguided boy would find in this place. The centaurs stood in the courtyard, their tails swishing occasionally in agitation, but otherwise showing no sign of their concern.

  Michel gasped at the legendary creatures and turned to stare at Corbin, “what other wonders will I see in this place?”

  Corbin shook his head, “if you keep an open heart and mind, who knows?”

  Michel smiled slightly, “we shall see, I suppose. Lead on fair lady.” Lyra and her guest vanished into the keep to get Michel settled for the night.

  Corbin climbed up on the crumbling battlements and stared out at the night dark Sea while the stars grew bright overhead. He knew not how long he stood there, absorbing the peace and beauty of the scene, but suddenly he noticed Bayard beside him, a half-grown Sundrake perched on the wall on his far side, her head under her wing. Corbin grinned at his friend, “I see your attempts have been more successful than mine.”

  Bayard smiled ruefully, “actually, you should remember my first attempt quite well.”

  Corbin laughed, “I had almost forgotten about that. Strange, that I could forget something that eventful. My attempt was nowhere near so exciting.”

  Corbin glanced at the dozing lizard and said thoughtfully, “there is a boy here whose sole purpose in life is to tame a Sundrake, I tried to talk him out of it, but he persists in his ambitions. You may want to keep yours disguised if you can.” Bayard glanced at the creature, she murmured something in her sleep, and was suddenly a slate gray color, nearly blending with the night. Corbin smiled in amusement and continued, “he also mentioned something about mortal men taming the creatures.”

  Bayard nodded, “I have heard similar rumors; it would certainly make things a little more efficient if we did not necessarily have to wait until afterwards to find our appointed companions, but it cannot be an easy thing for a mortal mind to wrap itself around. One moment you have bonded with one of the most legendary creatures on the planet, the next might very well be your last.” Noise was heard below as the mortal occupants of the castle gathered for the evening meal. The pair exchanged a grin and hurried below, hungry for company, if not for food. The drake slept on.

  Lyra was just setting the bread on the table when the boys entered the kitchen; she smiled to see them but the others did not seem to notice their appearance. The centaurs did not fit very well in the confines of the kitchen and were far more comfortable outside than indoors so rarely joined Lyra and her companions for meals. The two mercenaries were finally out of bed and starting to delve deeper into the mysterious things they had suddenly found themselves in the midst of, Hern was curious but skeptical, and Michel found himself fast friends with the three of them, as they seemed the only sensible creatures on the island. Hern had quietly mentioned that his brother was ‘different’ and his close company with Corbin marked the other boy as something strange himself.

  When asked about Sundrakes, the mercenaries grew strangely quiet and Hern whispered, “my brother and those like him are often seen in company with the beasts. Ask them if you must. I want nothing to do with it myself and our dear companions here have their own tale of terror to impart, if they ever recover enough to recount it without a relapse.” Michel shivered, wondering what he had embroiled himself in.

  Bayard and Corbin took seats across from the others and made introductions all around though no one seemed too interested in making further acquaintance, at least among those that still drew breath. Lyra tried to make small talk, but it was an awkward meal for all until Corbin and Bayard took their leave. Lyra sadly watched them go and then hastened off to finish the cleanup, leaving the four men alone. “What is this strange place?” asked Michel once they could talk freely, “there is something distinctly unnatural about those two, even the girl seems to have a slight aura of it about her.”

  The others nodded and Hern grimaced, “there is nothing remotely natural about it. I saw my brother beaten, literally to death. When next I saw him, I was at the point of death and he magicked me here where the girl healed my wounds just by touching me.”

  One of the mercenaries interjected, “we’ve seen horrible things, survived horrors you would not believe. Seen things no mortal mind can comprehend. Aye, this is a strange place and its denizens are even weirder. Leave now if you value your sanity.”

  Michel said grimly, “I want to solve the mystery of the Sundrakes and this seems to be a place where they can be found on occasion. I will remain until I learn all they have to teach me on the subject.” He stared at the others, “why do you remain if you are so terrified of all that passes here?�
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  They exchanged a mystified look and shrugged, “there is something here that draws a man in, makes him curious, urges him to look deeper. It makes you thirsty for something you cannot put a name to. I guess we don’t want to completely dismiss or abandon whatever this ‘thing’ is that calls to our very souls without trying to discover what it is.” Michel could only shake his head in wonder; he would never be drawn in.

  Morning found Michel in the courtyard, greeting the dawn with a great yawn and a stretch. He glanced about him, no one seemed to be about at this early hour so he thought to poke about the sea caves his friends had mentioned the previous night. He left the keep and followed the path down towards the Sea. There were too many caves to explore them all thoroughly in a lifetime, but most were empty with no recent sign of drake activity. A few hosted a sleepy drake, that blinked dazedly at this early intruder, but there was no sign that there had ever been anything but Sea Drakes here for the last thousand years. He spent a few agitated minutes flinging rocks into the surf as he contemplated his next move, finally his angry stomach reminded him that his most pressing need was breakfast. Resignedly, he ascended to the keep in search of company and the morning meal.

  Lyra greeted him as he returned to the keep and she asked after his morning explorations. He mournfully told her that there was not a Sundrake to be found in the caves below. She laughed merrily, “Sundrakes are not Sea Drakes, sir, they do not lurk in seaside cliffs or even linger very often upon the coast. Once hatched, they go whither their companions are wont to be.”

  He sighed, “then I must find one at its hatching?”

  She shook her head sadly, “nay sir, you will never bond with such a creature with such a heart. They are not beasts to be tamed, but thinking creatures intended to partner with mankind about the Master’s business. Unless you are one of the Master’s servants, never will you gain such a companion and even then it is far from guaranteed, for the service He asks of each of us varies considerably.”

  Michel stared at her, “how do you know all of this?”

  Lyra shrugged, “I have seen a great many things in my time here and more is found in the old records; some of it I just seem to know.”

  Michel frowned, “you say I have no chance with one of the creatures unless I submit myself willingly to this Master of yours?”

  She nodded, “others have tried to force the matter and the results were disastrous. Know you not what came of the first Sundrake?”

  Michel shook his head and she briefly recounted the tale for him. He shivered in horror and then stared at her in wonder, “so the first beast was merely a beast but these new creatures are immortal and intelligent? Fascinating, but I am not convinced that I cannot forge a lasting bond with one of the creatures, even though I refuse to acknowledge your Master as Lord.”

  She shook her head grimly, “can you not see the warning in my tale? Selfishness and pride are what led to the downfall of the first Sundrake and all those who sought it unworthily. Will you lose your soul for such small chance of gain?”

  Michel shook his head and said, “lady, it is my only ambition in this life and I do not believe in anything thereafter. I thank you for your warning, but I will continue as I must. Am I ever to see one of these legendary creatures in this peculiar place?”

  She shrugged, “they appear now and again, but one can never know for certain when.”

  They went in to breakfast and Michel desperately asked his companions the same questions he had asked the night before. They stared at him blankly, having no new insight to give and wondering why their previous explanation was not satisfactory. With a harrumph, Michel seated himself and glowered over his porridge, in a dreadful mood but determined to attain his goal, regardless of the hindrance these superstitious fools might prove. The minute one of the creatures appeared, he would act. As if summoned, Ian peeped into the kitchen and asked after Lyra. She smiled at him and quickly excused herself, following quickly after the retreating form. Michel left his untouched gruel and crept out into the courtyard. He saw nothing strange within the confines of the castle, but the boy had to arrive somehow. The pair had obviously gone to the library so Michel was free to investigate the boy’s mode of transportation. He emerged from the castle and smiled in triumph as his eyes fell upon a full grown female Sundrake, perched upon the cliff’s edge. She cocked her head at him but did not seem overly concerned by his presence. He approached boldly, but cautiously, remembering his dealings with the vicious hatchling.

  “Could I help you?” asked she.

  Michel stepped back in amazement, sentient indeed! He had never imagined the creatures could speak! Overcoming his wonder, Michel said politely, “I am desperately in need of your aid madam.”

  “Yes?” crooned she, spreading her wings eagerly.

  Michel continued, “I have ever wanted…well…have always dreamed…your species intrigues me madam.”

  She cocked her head anew, “most creatures find other races fascinating I suppose, but I think your true meaning is that you have always desired to possess such a rare and beautiful creature?” The boy’s jaw dropped in astonishment at her insight but she continued apace, “my race, at least those who remain in the Master’s service, have never known falsehood, therefore we cannot be led astray by untruths. But know this, you can never possess another sentient being as you wish, though your poor race seems to think slavery an acceptable practice. A soul can belong to none but the Master and Him alone. My race and yours are partners in accomplishing the tasks our Master sets us, we are not beasts to be tamed or treasures to be possessed. Serve the Master with a true heart and perhaps you may one day gain this service, but then again, perhaps you never shall.”

  Groused he, “why must everyone tell me I must submit to this mythical Master?”

  She shook her head, “it is the only sensible thing to do, but then even some of my own kin have decided to follow their own path, much to their loss.”

  He brightened, “then perhaps one of your so-called fallen kin will aid me?”

  She snorted, “if they will not deign to serve the One who made them, what makes you think they will serve a mere man?”

  Ian and Lyra approached, both curious as to what the odd pair had been speaking about. Michel glowered at Ian, “this beast is as deluded as the rest of you! I will have a Sundrake!” He stormed away and whistled for his drake; moments later, they were aloft and vanished quickly from sight. The three shared an aghast look, but they could do nothing to stop whatever it was he intended.

  Michel landed the beast on a sunny stretch of beach in the middle of the afternoon, this seemed a good place to look for Sea Drake eggs and his beast needed a rest. He sighed, wondering if he would ever have his wish. He signaled the beast out to Sea that it might feed and refresh itself, it crooned eagerly and quickly obeyed. Michel combed the beach but found no sign of Sea Drakes or their offspring. He sighed again, even as his stomach reminded him that he had had no breakfast. An errant breeze brought the smell of a cook fire to his nose and he smiled, perhaps there was time for an early supper. He made his way in the direction of the stimulating smell and soon came upon a small, neat cottage. A woman sat outside the door, attending to her sewing in the pleasant weather. She looked up and saw the visitor and smiled in greeting, immediately laying aside her work and preparing to properly receive her guest.

  “Well met, sir,” said she, “would you care for something to drink? Perhaps you are also hungry?” Michel smiled eagerly and gladly accepted her hospitality. As he sat over a cold lunch, she chattered on gaily, “we so seldom see strangers this far out. I have a son about your age, he should be back this evening. He will be quite excited to see a young man for a change, poor dear, hardly ever sees anyone but his old mother.”

  “Where is the boy?” asked Michel curiously.

  “Ah,” said she proudly, “he keeps a herd of runners, train
s them himself he does and does a fine job of it too, if I say it myself. The creatures hunt small vermin out in the fields and he brings them in for shelter of an evening.”

  Michel said almost disinterestedly, “runners, eh? Certainly useful beasts, but I am a drake enthusiast myself.”

  “Oh!” said the woman eagerly, “Ethan will be quite ecstatic about that I am sure. We hardly know a thing about the beasts, but he has a young one he has been trying to raise. Poor dear, washed up in a storm a fortnight ago. I’ve seen very few drakes in my time, but this creature looked downright ill if you ask me. The color was all wrong, but Ethan is convinced it will turn out all right. There’s none better at nursing stock, not to my knowledge. If anyone can help the poor beast it is him, but maybe you could give him a few pointers and help him along?”

  Michel smiled in grim eagerness, “I would most certainly like to see this creature and give it what help I can.” She smiled grandly and continued to potter about the house, continuing to prattle on as the day faded into evening.

  Soon, the hissing and grunts common to a herd of runners were heard in the yard, as was the cracking voice of a young man directing the beasts to their evening retreat. He locked the creatures in their pen and came into the house, greeting his mother brightly as he entered. Ethan stopped mid-sentence in surprise, having laid eyes upon Michel, whose smile deepened as he saw the young Sundrake twined round the boy’s neck. The lady made introductions and chivied her only offspring to wash up for supper. The boy dashed off to complete his ablutions, anxious to speak with a stranger his own age. They took their seats for the evening meal, Ethan barely restraining himself to polite inanities until his mother excused them from the table and sent them off to talk while she cleaned up. Once outside under the glorious sky, Ethan nearly burst, “you know something of drakes then?”

  Michel nodded, “my own beast waits for me down on the beach there, trained her from a hatchling I did. I see you have lately acquired a rather unique specimen.”

  Ethan looked down proudly at the creature twined about his shoulders, “yes, she seems quite intent on not letting me out of her sight though I know nothing of drakes. Her color does seem a bit odd, it almost minds me of a legend I once heard.”

  Michel scoffed, “ah, yes, the legendary Sundrake. Never mind that old story, your creature is certainly not the stuff of legend. In fact, small and weak as she is, I do not think she will survive without skilled care.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened in horror, “truly?”

  Michel continued, “I might be able to bring her through this difficult stage, hopefully I have come in time.”

  Ethan frowned, “I just can’t give her up.”

  “Oh, no!” said Michel placatingly, “I would ask no such thing of you. I will give you my own fully grown and wonderfully trained drake for your poor, ill creature.”

  Ethan shook his head, “you do not understand! If it were simply a matter of her health, I would give her into your keeping immediately and without question, but she seems to think you a scoundrel and a liar. She urges me to have nothing more to do with you.”

  Michel stared in astonishment, “how is it you communicate with this all knowing lizard?”

  She hissed at his derisive comment and Ethan replied, “she speaks into my thoughts and seems to know mine.”

  Michel said in desperation, “will you not give her over to me, to spare your own life?”

  The creature hissed in warning as Michel’s dagger glinted in the light of the full moon. Ethan crossed his arms and stood firm, “she is not mine to give or to keep. But neither is she yours to take.”

  A cruel smile crossed Michel’s face as he raised the dagger and said, “I will take her nonetheless.” He leapt at the boy, knife in hand. Ethan cried out, the creature keened in terror, and all three suddenly vanished from that moon-soaked beach.

  The same moon looked down on the pitiful scene but their surroundings had changed. No longer were they alone on a forgotten beach under the stars. Now they stood in the courtyard of a crumbling castle, though none of them for a moment paid any heed to their surroundings. Ethan lay dead on the paving stones, while the Sundrake shrieked and howled in grief and rage as Michel tried his best to capture the frantic creature. The tumult quickly drew the residents of the keep into the courtyard where they stood for a moment stunned, all save the centaurs. They scented blood long before they beheld the grievous scene and were ready for whatever tragedy had been wrought within their own keep.

  Katar easily took hold of the murderous youth, who struggled futilely in his strong arms, though this did little enough to quell the riotous outrage of the bereaved creature. She keened mournfully over the mortal remains of her late friend. The three young men stared at Michel’s handiwork in horror; Lyra shook her head in disgust, even as tears filled her eyes. Bayard entered the courtyard, the immature Sundrake his ever present shadow. The older creature squawked something incomprehensible at the fledgling, and the creature suddenly calmed and keened eagerly as Bayard knelt beside her slain companion. He poured the contents of his waterskin on the stricken youth and suddenly he gasped back to life. The four mortal men gasped in wonder and horror; the young Sundrake trumpeted her joy.

  Ethan turned sad eyes upon his murderer and said quietly, “you must cease this selfish pursuit ere it consumes your soul. You cannot have that which you most fervently desire. Such desire should be bestowed on the Master alone, seek Him so fervently and find true life!” Michel had ceased his struggles in awe as the murdered boy sat up and began to speak; his face hardened into a frown as Ethan’s words sunk in.

  “What are we to do with this killer of his own kind?” asked Katar as he continued to hold the increasingly uneasy Michel, who said in his own defense, “killer? The boy is quite alive!”

  Bayard shook his head grimly as he helped Ethan to his feet, “he lives beyond death, mortal life is behind him. You have seen to that! Do you care for anyone but yourself?”

  Michel shrugged, “I do what pleases me, what need have I to care for those who care nothing for me? Including your dread Master.”

  A great shriek shattered the night’s peace; the mortals quailed in terror while the two Knights reached for swords that were not there. A drake as dark as the night hovered overhead, blocking out the moon while the Dreadlord upon the creature’s back snarled down, “would you come with me or endure the so-called mercy of these fools? I can give you what it is you desire above all things!” Michel stared in horror and awe, but a thoughtful look had entered his eyes.

  Bayard said quietly, “go with him and it will doom your soul!”

  Michel stared at the insolent boy, “what use have I for a soul? Especially when I stand condemned as a murderer among civilized men? I will go with this fell warrior, no longer will I keep company with such deluded fools!”

  The drake howled again and carefully extended a clawed forearm to grasp the boy still clutched in Katar’s strong arms.

  Bayard shook his head in disgust, “you had best let him go before the creature tears you apart trying to seize him.” The centaur looked grim but nodded, he could not best the beast and the boy had made up his mind to go with this terrible minion of evil; he could not have chosen a worse fate for himself. Once free, Michel dashed eagerly towards the monster’s outstretched claws. The Dreadlord knew better than to let the beast touch the cursed ground, so he let the beast hover and allowed his prey to come to them. The beast took hold of the boy and quickly gained altitude before disappearing into the night.

  “How could you let him go?” gasped Ethan.

  Bayard shook his head, “it was his choice.”

  Ethan frowned, “but what of justice?”

  Bayard shivered, “he will get worse than death at their hands.” Ethan shuddered and stared off sadly in the direction the dead drake had vanished.

  Kipril had spent several we
eks at the school the Keepers had established in Versa, but there had been no more attempts to assassinate Grim or otherwise infiltrate or discredit the school. The whole project was a grand success, every class was overfull and people from all walks of life had come to hear what the Keepers had to say. Even the crown prince was known to frequent the halls on occasion. Kipril looked closely at the boy, thinking he was terribly thin while each breath seemed a struggle, but there was such an eagerness and hope about him that one sometimes forgot his physical shortcomings. They had spoken several times and Kipril was quite fond of the boy, who seemed energetic in their discussions though it was obviously a strain upon his person. It was during the course of one such conversation that Michel came upon the boy, knife in hand.

  He had been through a horrible ordeal in the depths of that volcanic island, but they had promised him much if he was successful in the tasks they would set him; he was determined not to fail. Kipril saw what the strange boy intended but his warning came too late, the Prince turned to see what had his companion so agitated and the dagger easily found his heart. Michel fled down the hall while Kipril knelt beside the gasping Prince, who reached blindly for Kipril’s hand. The boy took the bloody, outstretched fingers and tried to comfort the fading youth, but even as he took them, the hands went limp in death. He stood then, only to realize that a dozen people were staring at him in horror. He glanced down at himself and saw the spattered blood and knew what it must look like to these horrified witnesses.

  A sudden cry of murder and treason erupted and Kipril allowed himself to be seized by two off-duty guardsmen. They forced him towards the door, out into the street, and towards the castle. Others took up the murdered prince and followed swiftly after, eager to see what justice would be had by the King. No one barred their way as they entered the castle and sought out the King, for Michel had come ahead, proclaiming what had happened or rather his version of it. The triumphant boy stood at the King’s shoulder and smirked as the guards brought in their prisoner while the others laid the dead prince gently on the floor. The King stared in horror, insatiable wrath roiled in his eyes as he demanded, “what is the meaning of this?”

  Michel said beside him, “it is as I said Majesty, this boy is certainly one of them, he has simply acted upon what his masters have taught him. Did you not know what treachery they preach in this so-called school?”

  The King snarled, “I thought these were men of peace!”

  “Nay Sire,” purred Michel, “they hate all who oppose them. The Prince merely disagreed with this boy on some minor detail and he stabbed him brutally!”

  The King hissed, “I was a fool ever to allow your masters access to my city and people!”

  Kipril frowned, “you would believe the lies of this man before even hearing the full tale?”

  The King growled, “he has told me all! You and your masters and every fool who preaches such hatred will soon feel my wrath!”

  Kipril shook his head, “nay Sire, the only one preaching hatred is the man at your shoulder. Who is he that you would believe his words?”

  The King frowned in confusion, “but you are the one covered in blood!”

  Kipril smiled sadly, “because I knelt beside my dying friend, to give what comfort I could in his last moments. It was not I that stabbed him but the man who dares to impose himself upon you.”

  “A likely story,” sneered Michel. The King looked on the verge of violence or tears.

  Kipril spared him from both by saying, “Majesty, I could not have murdered your son and I can prove it.”

  The King said grimly, “that you will or my wrath shall fall swiftly upon you and yours. What is your proposal?”

  The boy produced a dagger from somewhere and threw it at the King; the entire assembly gasped in horror, thinking the father would meet the same fate as his beloved son, but the knife passed harmlessly through the man and lodged itself in Michel’s abdomen. He shrieked in pain and fell to dust while all were silent a moment in horror, before immediately erupting into excited chatter. The guards had drawn back in terror from the uncanny boy, for he had suddenly become insubstantial to their firm grip on his shoulders. The King shuddered, “I do not understand?”

  Kipril said quietly, “I cannot harm a living man, Sire. The man at your shoulder was some undead minion of evil, he it was that stabbed your son, solely to discredit the Keepers in your eyes. He did not realize that I was one of the few who could vanquish him.”

  The King knelt sadly beside his son and looked up pleadingly into the gentle eyes of the strange boy, “what is to come of my crown?”

  Kipril shook his head, “what was to come of it previously? Your son was not well I think. He would never have lived to be crowned king.”

  The King nodded, “this last year he has struggled valiantly against some condition of the lungs, but alas, he was losing the battle. If my daughter could be found, there would still be hope for my throne, but alas, she too has been lost to me.”

  Kipril said thoughtfully, “I know where your daughter is and can see that she is returned to you. But what of your son?”

  The King frowned, “he will be given a proper burial of course.”

  The boy smiled broadly, “what if he could yet render service to mortal men?” The King’s frown deepened as Kipril continued, “Sire, do you not know me?”

  The King studied the boy for a moment and then gasped, “you are the spitting image of the boy who tamed the first Sundrake, but even the Keepers say he is dead.”

  The boy nodded, “you are right on both counts Sire, but death need not be the end. Will you allow your son to serve the Master in similar fashion?”

  The King sat down heavily, “this is a strange thing you ask, but it has been a day full of bizarre revelations. Do as you suggest, but you must also recover my daughter.”

  Kipril grinned, “I can accomplish both tasks simultaneously. We shall return shortly.”

  Kaza winged into the throne room as a small, domestic lizard and landed on Kipril’s shoulder even as the boy knelt beside the slain Prince and laid a hand on the dead boy. They vanished and the watchers gasped in awe. Who was this strange boy?

  Lyra cried aloud in grief when she saw who it was that Kipril bore into the keep. “No!” wept she.

  Kipril shook his head, “your father asks that you return home to fulfill the duty your brother has laid aside.”

  She stared at him, “what is to come of the keep?”

  Ethan suddenly appeared with his drake about his neck and his mother by the hand. He smiled at Lyra, “I have found your replacement.”

  She laughed sadly, “it seems events precede me. What of Verdin?”

  Kipril smiled broadly, “what usually comes of the dead in this place?”

  She clapped her hands in joy and laughed, “how could I forget!”

  The late prince was soon enough roused from the grave, Mina found herself the new Mistress of the Keep, and Kipril was already aback Kaza, urging brother and sister to join him. With a triumphant roar, the Sundrake was soon aloft and vanished back to the capital. He hovered above the courtyard of the castle, allowing his passengers to dismount and then vanished again. The three made their way back into the throne room, which Kipril had vacated only minutes before.

  The King stood in astonishment, tears streaming down his cheeks, he gasped, “Lyra! Verdin! My children!” Kipril stood aside and let the family exchange greetings.

  Lyra said, “I have returned to fulfill my duty Sire.”

  Verdin bowed to his father, looking healthy for the first time in over a year, “I must beg your leave Sire, for duty now calls me elsewhere.”

  The King said sadly, “I will miss you my son.”

  Verdin grinned eagerly, “remain true to the Master Sire, and we will not be long sundered.”

  The King shook his head in wonder, “I must listen more closely
to these Keepers of yours. Perhaps I have not learned all that I ought. May the Master bless you both.” He smiled at Kipril, “thank you lad.”

  Kipril shook his head, “nay Sire, it was none of my doing. Thank the Master, not me.”

  The King laughed, “and so I shall.”

  “Farewell father,” said Verdin with a final bow.

  The King smiled sadly and both boys took their leave of the King, but had a final visit to make before leaving Versa. The school was nearly deserted, after the uproar with the crown prince. Grim paced the halls, wondering what would come of the matter. He nearly fainted in wonder when he recognized the prince coming towards him, perhaps it had all been a mistake? But then he noticed who it was that accompanied him and said, “why must you always be stealing my most promising pupils?”

  Kipril grinned at his former mentor, “I thought you would be pleased with the outcome after the tragedy of the day?”

  Grim smiled slightly and bowed to the late prince, “I do not know exactly what he has gotten himself or you into, but may the Master bless your efforts on His behalf.” He turned questioning eyes on Kipril, “by your presence here, I assume all is well with the King?”

  Verdin smiled sadly, “as well as can be expected, the man has just lost his son but also found his lost daughter.” He turned to Kipril with a frown, “what was my sister doing lurking in that ruined castle?”

  Grim snorted, “you were hiding the now legendary missing princess in that old ruin? It was hardly fit for a bevy of hermits, let alone a lady!”

  Kipril held up his hands to ward off their accusations and smiled, “it was her own choice that brought her there and also her choice to stay. We only rescued her from drowning.”

  Verdin laughed, “she would seek out such an adventure I am sure. She will not be half so content trying to survive at court.”

  Kipril smiled, “after all the strange happenings in that place, I think she may be content with the tedium of her previous surroundings, at least for now.”

  Grim stared at the boy, “I have seen strange things enough, I cannot imagine what you have subjected that poor girl to on that forsaken island!”

  Kipril raised his eyebrows, “me? It is none of my doing, though I suppose I have played a part in the goings on about the place.”

  A nervous, poorly clad boy approached the three men, nearly trembling in terror. The lad said in a barely audible whisper as he handed Grim a burlap sack, “with my master’s blessing.” No sooner had he handed over his burden than he turned and fled.

  Grim opened the bag and stared in surprise. He looked at the two boys, “a Sea Drake egg?”

  Kipril grinned, “from the way it is jumping about and making those hissing noises, it will not be long an egg.”

  Grim scratched his head, “what am I going to do with a hatchling Sea Drake? I appreciate the man’s support of the school but this is a strange gift.”

  Kipril smiled in anticipation and said, “I do not think it will be your concern for very long.” Grim frowned at the enigmatic boy but then turned his attention back to the egg, which suddenly burst open, revealing a tiny Sundrake.

  The man shook his head in mystification, “have you not had enough trouble with creatures such as this?”

  Kipril grinned, “oh, this one won’t be my problem. As you can see, it is quite taken with our former prince.” Verdin had eyes only for the hatchling, little noticing what went on betwixt his companions.

  Grim smiled in exasperation, “very well then, be gone with my prize pupil and my legendary new drake.” They exchanged a smile, Kipril laid a hand on Verdin’s shoulder, and abruptly Grim found himself alone.

  They appeared just as suddenly back at the infamous crumbling castle, Verdin glanced about himself curiously, having seen little of the place on his previous visit. Kipril ducked into the courtyard to see how the new Mistress was settling in. Katar nodded a greeting to the boy but did not put down the book he was reading. Mina emerged from the kitchen door and smiled welcomingly at the boy, not exactly sure who or what he was. She was still a bit taken aback at what had come not only of her son, but also of herself, but she was eager to be of use to all and sundry. Kipril bowed deeply to the lady and asked how she was adjusting. She smiled at the boy, knowing him now to be one of her son’s comrades, she said, “it still seems like a dream, but I think I will soon be quite at home and familiar with the gist of my duties.”

  Kipril nodded approvingly, “and your son?”

  She laughed, “I hardly know what to think! He came to tell me himself, you know. It seemed rather ridiculous, him saying as he’d been murdered by that poor boy who took supper with us! But there he was, standing on my doorstep and telling me the whole tale and then he asks if I would like to come mind a castle rather than my little cottage! And here I am, quite pleased to see the lad now and then and to be of use to all who come hither. Now what can I do for you?”

  Kipril shook his head, “I am only waiting for someone, then we will be off again.” He glanced over his shoulder and smiled as Verdin joined them, still looking about curiously. The lady greeted the newcomer and he gave her a grand bow, befitting a lady of noble birth, which flattered her no end.

  At that moment Ian dashed breathlessly into the courtyard, grinning sheepishly he asked, “am I late?” Kipril shook his head in amusement and then bid the lady ado, before gathering up his friends and leaving the keep.

  Kaza and Kyra perched eagerly on the edge of the cliff while Verdin’s hatchling crooned happily on his shoulder. Kaza cocked his head, “isn’t the hatchling a bit young for this adventure?”

  Kipril shrugged, “what is Time to an immortal creature? I think he may very well be grown by the time we reach our destination. There is a good reason for each of us to be on this strange adventure, else the Master would be sending someone else.”

  Ian queried, “what is our adventure to be? I only know it is quite desperate.”

  Kipril nodded, “we are going to visit the land of our forebears.” There was an audible gasp from all of them, even the drakes. Kipril continued, “our foes will not be content to linger in Vesper when the whole world lies open to them. We will defend mortal men from such evil wherever and whenever it is found.”

  Kyra asked, “why were we chosen to go?”

  Kipril shrugged, “perhaps we represent the entire spectrum of human society? A slave, a servant, and a prince were we!”

  Verdin laughed, “to think I look to a slave for orders!”

  Kipril smiled, “we are all of us free yet also servants of our Master.”

  Ian nodded, “truly spoken. Now shall we see what the outer world holds or shall we wait here talking until the drake is fully grown?”

  Kaza snorted his amusement and said, “we are merely waiting on you, now climb aboard and let us be away.” They immediately heeded his sensible words, Verdin joined Kipril aback Kaza as the hatchling leapt into the air and vanished. The elder drakes followed suit.

  The world resolved itself into a starless night on a rocky shore with the Sea frothed into a frenzy by a tempest that furiously lashed out at water and land alike. The three Knights gazed about in the midst of the gale, even their strange eyes seeing little of this legendary land in the thick of night and storm. “A lovely land this,” laughed Ian, “no wonder our ancestors abandoned it.”

  “Forget the scenery,” gasped Verdin, “what is that?”

  They turned to look at the creature that had astonished their companion and none could put a name to the beast. The shaggy quadruped trotted up and whinnied a laugh, “do you not know a Sundrake when you see one?”

  Kipril grinned, “I have never seen such a wooly beast before, certainly never a drake.”

  The creature replied, “the locals call it a ‘horse,’ and it serves as a common beast for burden, draught, and riding. You will find all of their domestic cre
atures of a mammalian or even avian descent, there are no reptiles among them!” The disguised drake eyed his conspecifics, who suddenly took on a visage similar to their companion.

  Ian smiled, “it seems you have learned much in a short time, are you fully grown as well?”

  Verdin shook his head, “the silly creature has been here a year and is fully mature while to us it was only a moment ago we parted.”

  The horse snorted in amusement, “far be it from me to aspire to silliness when so dire a quest lies before us. You will find that I have spent my juvenile months making observations that will be vital to our mission.”

  Kipril laughed, “silly indeed! Lead on dear friend, as we are strangers in this land.”

  Each of the Knights was truly horsed and Eril led them away from the storm wracked coast, up a gradual slope to the grassy hills that bordered this strip of coast. The hills were nearly as rocky as the shoreline with stones of all sizes jutting out of the sward and lurking about underfoot, ready to trip an unwary traveler. Not far from the coast they encountered their first continental village, but unlike the open and welcoming towns of Vesper, the settlements in this harsh and tumultuous land tended to be surrounded by sturdy walls and patrolled by short-tempered guardsmen. No one seemed to be about in the middle of a stormy night, and even the watchers on the walls could hear and see nothing through the thick of the storm, but the sharp ears of the drakes and their riders easily picked up the sounds of muffled weeping. About a bowshot from the walls, lay a great stone with a dark, trembling figure hunched miserably in a heap at one end. She heard the horses snorting in the blackness and ceased her weeping, silenced by terror.

  Verdin dismounted, climbed upon the near side of the boulder, and said quietly to the lady after offering her a grand bow, “why do you weep alone in the rain, my lady?”

  She squeaked in terror, “have you not come to devour me or worse?”

  Verdin scratched his head, “nay lady, we have come to your rescue.”

  “Rescue?” scoffed she, “who would rescue me when my own folk sent me forth to die?”

  “Who indeed!” snarled a grim voice from the depths of the night, “she is mine, as are all of you foolish enough to interfere.”

  Without a word, Verdin swept the lady up and set her hastily in his own saddle and then drew his sword. This time it would be a fair fight. The girl shrieked in terror and excitement even as the horses galloped into the night and the sounds of clashing swords faded with distance.

  “Fool!” snarled the foiled Spy that was Michel, “I will take you for my prey instead, unless you bend knee to my master and gain power unthinkable.”

  Verdin agreed, “it is quite unthinkable that I would ever do anything so ridiculous. What can your dread master offer that the True Master cannot give ten thousand times more abundantly, save perhaps death and despair?”

  The Spy hissed, “who in this cursed land knows that name as anything but the most distant of legends?”

  Verdin smiled grimly, “know you not the face of your Prince? You knew it once before, at least well enough to murder me like the coward you are! Now we shall see who possesses the greater skill, fiend!”

  Michel shrieked something incomprehensible and struck with greater fury as he realized who it was he fought and the grave danger in which he suddenly found himself. With a great squawk, Michel vanished, his sword clattered to the ground, and a great raven winged quickly off into the night. Verdin sheathed his blade, took up the discarded weapon, and followed his vanished companions, easily overtaking them with his unnatural speed. The horses stopped with Verdin’s appearance and drew close together that the companions might converse. Asked Kipril, “what of the fiend?”

  Verdin shook his head, “he became a raven and winged off as fast as he could fly.”

  Kipril shook his head grimly, “off to warn his companions no doubt. Lady, what can you tell us of this creature, his confederates, and why your people would leave you so exposed this night?”

  The terror had been replaced by curiosity as Joana replied, “we have always feared the gods, yet they seemed willing to ignore us as long as we carried out the proper rituals. So it was for generations when a month gone, everything changed, for the Priests of the gods arrived and demanded greater and worse tribute, including human sacrifice. I was to be the first such victim.”

  Ian queried, “these Priests, what do they say?”

  She shrugged, “many things, mostly how displeased the gods are with us and what horrors will come upon us if we do not obey. My folk are quite terrified. Do you not fear the gods? Why defy them to attempt my rescue?”

  Verdin smiled eagerly, “we serve the only real God, the Master. All other powers are mere imposters, created beings intent on their own power rather than seeking the glory of their Maker. Rebellious servants that must one day face their Master’s judgment but who, for a time, are allowed to pretend to be masters of the earth and sea and sky. Such vile powers are certainly greater than any man, but not greater than Him whom we serve. It was our Master who sent us to your rescue.”

  “The Master?” said she with a smile, “come, do not tease me with mere fancies. Tell me truly, which of the gods do you claim to serve?”

  Kipril shook his head, “nay lady, we do not tease you. Truly there is no God but the Master, our Creator, Savior, and Sustainer. All others are mere imposters, powerful true, but still created beings and not true gods. Know you nothing of the Master in these lands?”

  The girl shook her head, “only as a figure out of ancient myth, perhaps the father of the gods, but no longer does he exist or at least he is unable or unwilling to influence our world.”

  Verdin shook his head, “an interesting story, but not the Truth. It was not these lesser gods that saved you this night, but they that demanded your blood.”

  She nodded thoughtfully, “you have a point. You must tell me more of my Savior yet perhaps it would be wise to seek a place of shelter?”

  The Knights exchanged an embarrassed look, having forgotten the poor mortal girl’s fright and certain discomfort on such a wretched night. The rain and cold did not bother them in the least, but she was shivering and soaked through, not to mention there were likely minions of evil about and they were quite vulnerable in the open. Verdin asked if he might mount behind the lady and she nodded demurely. Once he was mounted, the party made for a place of safety that she knew well. Half an hour of riding brought them to an expanse of rock that jutted out into the Sea. The girl slid from the saddle, and even in the dark of night and storm, she easily picked her way along a barely discernable path until she came to the base of a rocky slope. She carefully climbed the nearly vertical hillside and then vanished suddenly into a small opening that led into the heart of the hill. The Knights followed, as did the drakes, now in the guise of winged, domestic lizards.

  They soon had a fire going and they offered the girl food and water that had miraculously appeared amongst their baggage. As she refreshed herself, the boys glanced about their new surroundings and gasped in wonder. Here, preserved upon the wall in murals and intricate tile mosaics, was the history of mankind and the Master’s part in it. The tale was told from the very beginning of Time, to the rebellion and fall of man, to the Master’s appearing among men as a mortal Himself, and finished with His brutal death and wondrous return to Life.

  The girl, finally revived, noticed their intense interest in the cave walls and asked, “I came here often as a little girl. It was my own secret place I discovered one day when I was out walking. I love the pictures but understand little of the story they tell. Who do you suppose made them and what was this place?”

  Kipril said in wonder, “these walls tell the full tale of the Master and His dealings with men and theirs with Him. I suppose His ancient servants adorned the walls that the tale not be forgotten. Perhaps it was a place of meeting, learning, or refuge?” Sh
e nodded thoughtfully and gnawed absentmindedly on her bread.

  Then she frowned as a new thought occurred to her, “who exactly are you and where are you from that you cherish this Master and little fear the wrath of the common gods?”

  Verdin smiled, “our forebears left these lands a thousand years ago. They washed ashore on a group of islands far from here and established a civilization. Now a great evil has arisen in our homeland and has come back to the land of our ancestors. We were sent to stifle this evil and see that your folk no longer dwell in spiritual darkness.”

  She gasped, “ancient legend tells of such an expedition but it also assumes that all involved perished at Sea! Yet you say some survived and even preserved a memory of this Master of yours?”

  Ian nodded, “exactly, but what has come of such knowledge in your own country?”

  She shook her head, “perhaps it perished in the chaos that ever seems to wrack our land. Ever is there a new petty warlord or bandit king proclaiming himself ruler over all. Never are sovereign realms long lived or Princes long on their stolen thrones. Banditry, lawlessness, injustice, and chaos choke these lands and have for nearly a thousand years. I suppose that is why your ancestors would rather attempt the Sea than stay here amidst the chaos. Our mythos is as chaotic and unsettled as the world about us. I would know more of this Master of yours, especially if He promises peace, justice, and love.” They told her the full tale, using the beautifully adorned walls to aid their story. She was spellbound and spoke not a word, save to occasionally gasp in wonder.

  When they had finished, the girl nearly begged, “I would seek this Master if He would have me.”

  Kipril smiled, “you need only ask.” A look of pure delight entered the girl’s eyes as she did just that.

  “Now,” said she in a very business like tone, “we had best get busy and tell the rest of the world.”

  Ian asked, “how do you propose we do that?”

  She smiled at him in amusement, “they will never listen to an outsider, but I think once they hear my tale, they will be eager to know more.” She frowned, “you had best tell me everything I need to know, for they will have questions.” The girl seemed to absorb everything they said like a dry sponge; her memory was amazing. Soon, she felt herself ready to face her folk, but first, they insisted she get some sleep. She roused about noon to see the sun shining through the small opening. She emerged from her haven and quickly made her way to the ground. Kipril followed but the others were already waiting, having scouted about while the girl slept.

  Joana glanced about, “where are your charming lizard creatures? How is it that your ponies did not flee in such a night?”

  Verdin smiled enigmatically, “they are rather remarkable creatures, doing what they must at need.” She shook her head and climbed aback Eril while Verdin rode with Kipril, it would not do to have her come home aback a horse with a strange man. They set off at a good clip and soon reached the walled village, whose gates stood open in the sunshine, but they suddenly began to close at the advent of strangers. The girl cried out to one of the watchmen who turned pale, as if seeing a ghost.

  She crossed her arms and frowned at the guard in frustration, “Kenneth, do you not recognize your own sister! Open the gates you fool.”

  The boy gave a nervous laugh in spite of his terror and proclaimed, “it is truly Joana, whoever heard of a ghost that scolds as only an older sister can? Open the gates!”

  The others made to protest but the boy sensibly reminded them that the gates would be of little use if the girl were actually what they feared. He ran to the gate and greeted her warmly as she slid from the saddle, but he eyed the strangers cautiously. After their exuberant greeting, she introduced her rescuers to the gathered guardsmen and the small, curious crowd that gathered to see who these strangers might be.

  “This is the strangest story I have ever heard,” said the captain of the guard and also the mayor and Joana’s father, “yet here you are alive, so there must be some truth in it. But will not the gods visit their wrath upon us for defying them?”

  Kipril bowed deeply and said, “nay Sir, your gods are not gods at all but vile demons intent on usurping the place of the True Creator. While these minions of evil may try their hand at destroying you, the Master is not powerless in your defense.”

  The Mayor scoffed, “you three will defend us from such terrible foes?”

  Kipril shuddered, “it is not our place to defy such powers Sir, but the Master’s alone. Though we can and will protect you from their lesser servants who were once men, but now endure a living death in hopes of gaining power and life unending.”

  The Mayor shivered and turned to his daughter, “you must tell us more of these things.” She smiled and the whole town eagerly listened to her words.

  Said the Mayor once she had finished, “strange but wondrous tales indeed. Certainly a better choice than the words of the so-called Priesthood of the gods.”

  “Brave words, fool,” came the hissing reply, “be sure they are not your last!” The three Knights had their swords out and stood between the Wraith and the townsfolk. “Fools!” snarled the dark mage, “as long as these folk desire me in their midst, you can do nothing to expel me.”

  The Mayor stuttered, “then be gone fell thing. We have never desired your presence, least of all now.” The thing raised a hand to cast some foul incantation upon the trembling infidel, but Kipril leapt between them, vanishing in a gout of black flame. The villagers gasped but the remaining two Knights soon overcame the gloating mage, leaving the village for a time, free of such creatures.

  Joana wept, “why would he die for my father?”

  Verdin said quietly, “because such was the Master’s sacrifice for each of us.” Then came the eager questions.

  Hern and the two former mercenaries had spent weeks on the forgotten island and had by now become quite familiar with the place. They were bored, what was worse was that the new Mistress of the Island was no Lyra. At least the girl was an interesting companion, if completely fooled into believing all the malarkey that apparently passed for sense in this place. Mina was more a matron than a companion and tended to mother her charges rather than befriend them. They had seen all the strange things that happened in that place and were quite ready to be back in the real world where such things did not occur. But how to get away? They knew they only had to ask, but who? As if in answer, Bayard suddenly appeared with his Sundrake. Hern rushed to him and demanded that he bear them away from this ghastly place immediately.

  The boy snorted a laugh, but knew this was the reason he had returned. He asked, “whither would you go, my fine sirs?”

  Hern shivered, “anywhere such uncanny things are unlikely to occur.” The two warriors nodded with wide eyes.

  “Very well,” said Bayard as he motioned for the trio to mount.

  Hern gaped, “can this beast carry four men?”

  The creature snorted and startled the poor men all the more, “I can carry one or a thousand such. Mortal weight means nothing to me. Hop aboard lads.” They quivered in terror but their eagerness to be away overcame their fear. They suddenly vanished and reappeared near the capital city.

  Bayard said to his brother, “I hope you one day find whatever it is you are looking for, but remember, when all else fails you, ever is the Master waiting.” All three scoffed at him and hurried away from the unnatural creatures. The pair exchanged a pained look and vanished anew.

  Hern had never been to the capital city before so he let his warrior friends lead on. Much had changed since their last visit, and not for the better. It seemed the whole world was suddenly taken with the Keeper’s nonsense, even the King! Sighed Hern, “where can we get away from these fools and their inanity?”

  Said one of the mercenaries, “what about the enemies of this so-called Master?”

  The other shivered and reminded
his companion what had come of Throg. Hern quivered, “I would rather stay away from both parties if we can arrange it.”

  “Sorry lads,” came an ancient voice, “but you must choose a side.”

  The trio glanced in annoyance at a man in a Keeper’s robes but also wearing a sash proclaiming him a highly ranked advisor of State. Wonderful, just wonderful, not only a Keeper but the very man who advised the King! “We do not wish to choose a side,” snarled Hern, “be gone!”

  Ubert only smiled in amusement, “this is a war lad, one that spans all of Time and Space and beyond. There is no neutral position. You are either for the Master or against Him.”

  Hern scoffed, “do you know what strange things happen on that haunted island of yours? If that is the Master’s handiwork, we want nothing to do with it.”

  Ubert said grimly, “the Enemy’s is far worse, and I think your companions have seen enough of that. Are you willing to spend all Eternity in such a state?” The mercenaries looked ready to faint in terror. The Keeper smiled gently and directed them to the School where they might learn in relative normalcy. They scampered off as fast as their feet could carry them but Hern stood rooted to the earth. “Well old man,” scoffed he, “I will have nothing to do with your Master, so it is that I choose the Enemy. Look what you have driven me to!”

  Ubert shook his head, “it was none of my doing but your own choice.”

  Hern shrugged and walked proudly out of the city, wondering how to find what he now desired above all things and determined to have his revenge not only on the old man but also on his brother, not that they had done anything to deserve revenge, but he liked how such vengeful thoughts made him feel. It was not long after that he found that which he sought, evil has an uncanny way of seeking out its own or attracting worse than itself. He did not enjoy what followed but the power that seethed through his being was more than worth it. He wondered idly what his brother would say and with a vile smile, whispered the fell words and vanished in hopes of finding Bayard, but alas, he was now a slave and could only do his master’s will, which did not at the moment involve any of his wished for revenge.

  Kipril appeared suddenly outside the gates of the crumbling castle, for a moment thinking himself aflame. Corbin walked up to him and greeted him cordially, “how are things on the continent?” Kipril smiled eagerly and recounted their adventures. Corbin nodded and replied, “the Enemy will certainly not like this sudden interest in the Master.”

  “No,” said Kipril grimly, “and that is why we are going on a recruiting mission. It is easy enough for us to protect our little archipelago, but they have a whole continent to defend.”

  Corbin whistled, “where are we going to find sundrakes enough to mount such an army? I doubt there are Sea Drakes enough in all Vesper to mount all that would be required!”

  “True,” said Kipril thoughtfully, “but who said we needed drakes?”

  Corbin smiled in understanding, “there is an alternative? Excellent!” He smiled hopefully and said, “I am still afoot myself.”

  Kipril grinned, “even better. You shall be our first ambassador, come!”

  Kaza was eagerly waiting for them, vanishing the moment they were mounted; he was quite eager himself to see the answer to this puzzle. They reappeared above a huge island, almost a continent in size, composed exclusively of very mountainous terrain. A carpet of verdant growth clothed the mountains while crystal blue rivers cascaded from the peaks to the valleys in innumerable waterfalls. Corbin said eagerly, “it is beautiful but one would have to have wings in order to live here!”

  Kipril smiled, “that is exactly why we are come.”

  Kaza set down in a wide meadow on a shoulder of one of the nearest peaks, his companions dismounted, and they all drank in the splendor about them. It was not long before they were joined by what Kipril now recognized as a horse, but such a horse! The wonderful creatures bore wings like those of a dove and glowed with an inner fire, minding one of a first glimpse of the morning sun. Three of the wonderful creatures had landed in the meadow and galloped swiftly over to investigate whom these intruders might be. There had never been, in all the history of Time, any sentient creature on this great island paradise save the Pegassi, and unlike many of the races that dwelt on the earth, they had never broken faith with their Master. They stopped a short distance from the strangers and studied them intently, conversing quietly amongst themselves.

  Finally their leader spoke, “greetings strangers, you are the first who have ever set foot upon our blessed shores. From whence do you come and what do you seek?”

  Kipril stepped forward, bowing deeply, hoping it an acceptable form of greeting and respect, said he, “the Day has come. Our Master calls you to leave your homeland and go forth into the world as has long been foretold.”

  The Elder nodded gravely, “it has come at last. Long have we waited and feared the Day, and now it is come. What must be done?”

  Kipril said solemnly, “why have you feared this Day when it is of your Master’s doing?”

  The Elder shook his head, “we little know what to expect, none have ever left our paradisiacal isle and none wish to unless we must.”

  Kipril nodded, “fear of the unknown is not uncommon in the outer world so I suppose it should be no surprise here, yet you can trust the One who is sending you forth as ever you have trusted Him here.”

  The Elder seemed to be warming to the idea and said less gravely, “what are we to do?”

  Kipril looked to Kaza, who was far more experienced in this sort of thing than he. The Sundrake nodded to the Elder and said, “most of your people will yet dwell in peace but there are a number that will feel a Calling upon themselves, they will be drawn irresistibly into the outer world. These will leave the safety and comfort of your home and seek the adventure the Master has set them. They will be utterly changed and no longer content to dwell safely at home. To deny this Calling can only result in a curse and misery for the individuals refusing it.”

  The Elder said solemnly, “so those that are Called must Go or suffer the consequences of disobedience?”

  “Yes,” said Kipril, “they will be leaving your people one way or another, they must either go or be banished.”

  “This is a grave thing you ask,” said the Elder in concern.

  Kipril shook his head, “it is not I but the Master. The world’s need is dire and He is asking you to do your part lest Evil triumph over a great portion of civilization.”

  The Elder bowed his head in submission, “we cannot sit safely at home while others suffer! Let it be unto us as you have said and let those who refuse suffer the consequences. How is this to be accomplished?”

  Kipril replied, “those who are Called will know, let them come to this place and all will be accomplished.”

  “So be it,” said the Elder with a heavy sigh, “strange are the days when the Pegassi stray far from their ancient home!”

  “Nay father,” said one of the Elder’s as till now silent companions, “perhaps for your generation it is a thing undreamt, but for mine it is a hope fulfilled! There are many of us who have yearned for this Day, who have longed for something more than to live out our days in absolute peace.”

  The Elder was quite surprised by both the unseemly outburst and these apparently hidden longings in a whole generation of the Pegassi, said he reluctantly, “it seems the way has already been prepared and that perhaps the older generations shall have a harder time dealing with the Day than those who shall actually leave home.” He turned saddened eyes upon his son, having hoped that by submitting to the Day, he and his might perhaps be sparred from it, said he, “this then you must do?”

  “Must?” came the astonished answer, “must and wish with all my heart! At last I may accomplish something in our Master’s name! It was for this Day that our people were made. Weep not father, but rather rejoice that salvation has come
to a people we do not even know.”

  The Elder snorted to hide his tears, “so shall it be. May the Master lend speed to your wings!” He eyed the three strangers solemnly, dipped his head in farewell, and with one stroke of his great wings, he and his remaining companion were aloft and soon hidden from sight.

  The remaining Pegassi approached the strangers and said, “I am called Erian. Who and what are you?” There were soon introductions all around and then some explanation of things to come. “Let me then be the first,” said the Pegassi exuberantly.

  Corbin drew a flask of water from a hidden pocket and said to the eager creature, “you know then what this will mean for you and your future relationship to your people?”

  The Pegassi snorted, “I will not be able to settle down and have foals or stand on the Council. I understand that I will be sundered from the life common to my race since the Beginning.”

  He eyed his three companions curiously, “have not you three agreed to similar restrictions?” The three exchanged a look, never having thought of it that way, but then they smiled and agreed, that so indeed they had. Laughed the Pegassi, “then I see no reason why you should worry so about me doing likewise.”

  Corbin smiled deeply, “then my friend, taste of the Water and enter this service with a joyous heart.”

  Erian did gladly as he was bidden, feeling quite transformed in his being yet showing no outward sign of change, said he in wonder, “now this is joy indeed.” He pranced and bucked in joy like a colt on fresh spring pasture. He turned then to Corbin and asked in eagerness, “have we not some pressing matter to be about?”

  Corbin grinned, leapt aback the wondrous beast, and they vanished together with joy in the morning. Kipril exchanged a joyous smile with Kaza before vanishing likewise as they too felt drawn towards their next adventure.

  Kipril found himself again walking the corridors of the Keeper’s school in Versa, wondering anew at the eager and teeming mass of students that filled its many halls, it seemed every citizen of Vesper must be in attendance at that very moment. Kipril’s heart rejoiced at such zeal for his Master’s words yet part of him also grieved for what must come next, for it would briefly try a heart that was very dear to him, yet it was the answer to the man’s most desperate prayers. Grim was not a young man and the servants of evil had given him no peace, day or night, as he struggled to establish and maintain the school. He could not eat without worrying about poison, he could not step outside the building without fearing that some hired thug would stick a knife in his back, and many were the strange and evil creatures that had infiltrated the school itself, seeking his life; they had always been deterred in their evil but it did terrible things to a man’s mind and heart to be always living under the shadow of death. He could not admit it, even to himself, but he was dreadfully lonely as well.

  Ubert stopped in on occasion, but since Corbin had gone, there seemed to be no one who understood what he had gone through, what he struggled with each day. He appreciated when Kipril and his former colleagues also appeared for a brief visit, but they were something beyond his comprehension and could no longer be considered a true, mortal friend. He did not know how much longer he could keep himself together, let alone the school. He cried himself to sleep every night, praying fervently for some sign or strength or change. One small part of him almost wished one of the would-be assassins might actually succeed. He knew he was doing great things for his Master’s Kingdom, but this was small solace in the darkest hours of the night and he feared, more than a mortal heart could bear.

  Kipril rapped at the door of Grim’s office, but no answer came. Glancing about to make sure no one was watching, he stepped through the door and found Grim at his desk, head in his hands, barely holding back the tears. Kipril cleared his throat to announce his entrance and said quietly, “you do not look well my friend.”

  Grim tried to put himself back together and said gruffly, “just a moment of weakness lad, I am fine, really.”

  Kipril shook his head in concern, “you cannot go on like this.”

  Grim stared at the boy with haunted eyes, “this I know all too well, but what choice do I have?”

  Kipril took an involuntary step back and focused his gaze on something behind his friend, saying as calmly as he could, “fear not, all will be well.”

  Grim frowned and turned to look at what had caught the boy’s attention, jumping out of his chair in alarm to find a Dreadlord behind him. Said he in terror to Kipril, “are you just going to stand there?”

  Kipril said quietly, “I am forbidden from acting against this creature.”

  Grim’s heart sank, “forbidden? By whom?” He shivered, knowing full well Who it was that directed Kipril and his comrades, had he been utterly forsaken?

  The Dreadlord laughed harshly, “your precious Lord has abandoned you fool, and after all you have sacrificed on his behalf! But my master will remember you, if you will only bend knee to him.”

  Grim was in a veritable panic and turned plaintive eyes to Kipril, who said quietly, “you are neither forgotten nor forsaken, else I would not stand here as witness.”

  Grim tried desperately to regain control of his racing mind and heart, said he grimly to the monster, “I know Whose I am and there is no changing that, come what may.”

  “Very well,” said the Dreadlord, as if it little mattered to him, “you have chosen your own fate and it will be far from pleasant. I will bear you to a place where there will be only darkness and pain until your pathetic mortal heart can stand it no longer and gives out in terror and despair. We shall see then how strong is your faith.”

  “No,” said Kipril grimly, sword in hand and glowing slightly with some inner light, Grim took an involuntary step back from this dread warrior, little recognizing the boy of his former acquaintance. Continued the Knight, “finish it here or be gone.”

  The Dreadlord must have felt something dire in his simple words, for even he hesitated a moment before snarling, “so be it!”

  Grim stared at Kipril in astonishment, could he not prevent the inevitable, even now? The last thing Grim saw was Kipril’s stony face softening with pity and a small shake of his head, as if he read the man’s question in his eyes. The next moment the creature had struck off the man’s head with a horrible laugh, triumphant at last where so many had failed before. He took up Grim’s head, made a hideous face at his stymied foe, and marched out into the main corridor of the school to show all what came of serving such a Master.

  The moment the creature was gone, Kipril pulled a flask from his pocket and poured its contents on his old teacher. The man was immediately restored to himself, glancing about in confusion, thinking perhaps it had all been a dream. He regained his feet and stared at the boy in perplexity, still not quite sure what was real. He had faced his Master, that was more real than ever anything else could be, but now he felt himself in some sort of a delirium or perhaps a nightmare. All he could say was, “you stood aside.”

  The boy nodded, “I was forbidden from interceding unless the monster wished to carry things too far.”

  Grim shook his head, “are not murder and betrayal too far? What if that monster had succeeded? What would come of the school, of the students?”

  Kipril finally understood the man’s confusion and said, “Grim, what do you think just happened?”

  The man frowned at the boy, not liking this sudden change of subject, especially to something that perplexed him utterly, said he, “I am not sure. The monster was there, you looked a ferocious warrior who stood aside and did nothing, then I blacked out and was in our Master’s presence, and then I awoke to find the monster gone and you still here, as common a lad as ever I saw.”

  Kipril asked, “and what will come of your school?”

  Grim frowned in consternation, “why should things be different than they have been before? I will still be here to oversee everything, at leas
t if that monster does not come back. What came of him, anyway?”

  Kipril could not contain his smile any longer at the incongruity of the situation as he replied, “that creature is promenading down the corridor with your head as a trophy.”

  Suddenly the situation was quite clear to Grim, who finally barked a laugh at his own blindness, “so I have joined ranks with the rest of you at last.” He smiled eagerly and drew forth his sword, “I assume there are no more restrictions keeping us from destroying the fiend?”

  Kipril drew his own blade, “not in the least. Welcome home my friend, let us put your new skills to the test.”

  Grim smiled deeply for the first time in a very long time as he said, “that we will lad, that we certainly will!”

  They dashed down the hall in pursuit of the Dreadlord. They found him in the main hall of the palace, snarling threats and empty promises at the gathered students, who huddled together like terrified sheep in a pen. He no longer had his trophy, it had vanished the moment Grim had been restored to himself, but he had a sword and a temper which were far more effective. There was some hopeful murmuring as some of the students caught sight of Grim, happy that in this at least the monster had lied and hopefully so too was he wrong about everything else. The Dreadlord looked up and his jaw dropped, he turned from the pair of students he was threatening and prepared to face this new menace. Within moments, Grim’s sword had struck true and the Dreadlord had vanished, leaving only a horde of terrified and relieved students in its wake.

  Kipril was on his knees beside an apparently injured student that the Dreadlord, once known as Throg, had singled out, having discovered one of his former cronies. The other former mercenary knelt on the wounded man’s other side, saying nothing but staring daggers at Kipril and Grim. Bayard suddenly appeared and said, “I will see to him.” He turned to the uninjured man and asked, “do you wish to accompany your friend?” The man nodded stonily as a winged lizard, colored like the sunset, landed on Bayard’s shoulder; the Knight placed a hand on each of the mercenaries and they vanished back to the crumbling castle and the healing therein. Meanwhile, Grim stood in the center of his terrified students, trying to regain order.

  One student cried out, “that creature said you were dead!”

  “He carried your head!” came another.

  Grim finally gained their attention and silence as he said, “he was a servant of evil, their main weapons are deceit, temptation, and threats. If he cannot tempt you into doing as he wishes, he will try to threaten or deceive you into acting thus, and if still you resist, he may very well carry out his threats, but take heart, for in the end, the Master is stronger and wiser than he and has already triumphed on our behalf. Whatever has happened, I am still here and very much alive, as you can see. Do not trust his words or promises, for it only lends our Enemy power and will lead to your own downfall. Your injured comrade will make a full recovery so we need fear that menace and his threats no more, he has utterly failed to accomplish anything in his foul master’s name. Now, please return to your classes and your teachers will be happy to answer any further questions you might have.”

  The students reluctantly did as they were bidden, wishing rather to gossip and theorize about the events rather than deal with them in a reasonable fashion. In the end, it was a mere hiccup when it could have been the end of everything that Grim and his fellows had tried so hard to build. He turned back towards his office and motioned for Kipril to accompany him. Only as he shut the door behind them did he notice that there was blood everywhere. Sighed he, “what a mess! I hope none of my books or scrolls have been damaged.”

  Kipril laughed, “you are more Scholar than Knight, Grim.”

  Grim looked up from the books he was examining and smiled, “I suppose you are right. But so too is my duty. I shall remain with the school as long as necessary, now happily immune to all of the problems that have so afflicted me of late.” He said quietly to Kipril, “I am sorry for doubting you and our Master just before the end, I should have had more faith.”

  Kipril clapped him on the back, “I felt dreadful about it myself dear friend, knowing how you would feel, but you remained faithful even in the face of doubt and that is what ultimately matters. Your prayers were answered, if not exactly how you had imagined.”

  Grim smiled ruefully, “part of me actually wished for death, though that part quickly repented when the Dreadlord showed up. Strange to think death can actually be a blessing.”

  Kipril said quietly, “only the death of a man faithful to the Master, all others are terrible beyond words.”

  They were silent for a moment as they pondered this horrible thought. Grim brightened, “but I have the chance to see that nobody dies without Him, unless they really want to.”

  Kipril smiled, “that is our primary duty in life as well as beyond it.” He glanced about with a smile, “you have quite a mess to clean up, how are you going to explain this to the servants?”

  Grim tossed him a mop with a smile, “we won’t have to, at least if you give me a hand.”

  Kipril groaned, “the mop is mightier than the sword.” Grim shook his head but they both set to with a will and soon set the office in order.

  Bayard returned to the dilapidated castle with his two companions and soon enough, the kindly matron had fully healed the man. Said the uninjured mercenary, “I had no wish to come back here, but I could not allow Grott to be spirited away by you folk, at least not alone.”

  Bayard nodded, “quite understandable. Do you know what came of my brother?”

  They exchanged a grim look, “he went looking for your enemies.”

  Bayard said sadly, “each man must make his own choice. What of you gentlemen?”

  They exchanged an unreadable look, as the first man continued, “we would rather not make a decision, live and let live as it were. Too many weird things happen around you people, though we are grateful for all you have done for us. I think we may try and find somewhere to do a little soldiering where your Master is not so popular. No offense.”

  Bayard smiled sadly, “none taken, but remember that in not choosing Him you choose against Him.”

  The mercenaries nodded, “we will take our chances. Any chance you can get us away from these islands? There is no place for a man who only wants to earn his bread without hearing ever and always about the Master.”

  Bayard frowned, “I suppose I can drop you off in the land of our ancestors. Rumor holds it to be a rather uncivilized and heathen culture.”

  They exchanged an eager look and nodded enthusiastically, “perfect!”

  Bayard grinned, “but there is a small revival movement going on.”

  They shook their heads, “at least there is room enough for unbelievers there, these islands are mighty confined and filled with people like you.”

  Bayard nodded, “so be it. I shall bear you wherever you would go.”

  So it was he left them in the land their ancestors wished desperately to flee and they easily found sword work, as much as they desired until at last they were cut down in one of the countless skirmishes between minor warlords so common in those days. They thought at last to die happily in battle, as any warrior might, but found at the last that perhaps they should have given more consideration to the words of those rather strange folk whose influence they tried so hard to escape.

  Bayard felt himself obliged for a little while to stay upon the continent, at least until there were Knights enough recruited from those heathen lands to defend their homeland from the current influx of evil. They landed near a burning village, the smoke nearly blocked out the sun and cast a gloomy shade over the terrible things happening below. The drake set down next to some sort of a large hoofed mammal with great feathered wings, Corbin sat astride the creature and greeted his comrade as the drake folded its wings and settled in to watch. Corbin quickly made introductions all around, briefly
explaining the Pegassi and the part they would play in the war that would soon cover the entire continent. Continued Corbin, “this village was the first to hear of the Master and such was the overwhelming excitement that many an eager pilgrim has set out to tell others of this wondrous thing they have heard. The local warlords, advised no doubt by our enemies, are far from happy about this new hope spreading like wildfire amongst the peasantry and have sworn to stomp it out. They have burned the village, many were killed in the battle, and the survivors they are giving a choice: renounce the Master or be put to the sword.”

  Bayard watched as the grim scene played out, a few fell to their knees weeping for mercy but most stared stonily at their captors and would not repent. The few survivors were rounded up and would be sold as slaves, the faithful were left to the scavengers. They took what booty they could, mounted their horses, and rode contentedly away. Bayard shivered, wondering how one man could slaughter his fellows like so many sheep and ride away without any misgivings, guilt, or remorse. Corbin said quietly, “it is a dark land, with men caring little for one another and their only hope is to see another sunrise.”

  Erian interjected, “not anymore! Come lads, let us glean some hope out of this field of despair!”

  The Knights dismounted and combed the burning village and the bloodied field, seeking their as yet unquickened comrades. They found a dozen young men amongst the carnage and lay them in a line, away from the wreckage. Each of the Knights knelt beside the nearest lad, pouring a bit of that wondrous Water on the dead boy. The boys wakened again to life, sat up, and blinked at their new comrades in sheer wonder. Each pair was soon aback either the drake or the Pegassi and vanished back to Vesper and its crumbling castle to fetch more of the precious Water and then on to Erian’s home country to get the neophyte Knights mounted. Upon their return, there were now four of them to repeat the process until a dozen young men stood ready to fight back the darkness in their own peculiar way, but first they saw to giving their dead kin a proper burial before dispersing on their various missions, leaving the elder Knights alone amidst the smoking ruins.

  Corbin smiled eagerly, “so begins our conquest of the continent.” He sobered, “chaos and ruin will reign for some time and our new comrades are only the first of many, but the day is coming, though the darkest part of the night is yet to come. Perhaps one day these lands will know the peace only our Master can bring. Thank you for your help, I must remain here to shepherd our new recruits. Farewell!” Bayard raised his hand in farewell, grateful to return to the more civilized and peaceful lands of his birth.

  So it was that war raged over the continent and many were those who discovered things dearer than life, forsaking it to find the joy that lasts forever. But gradually, the common folk were outraged enough at the ceaseless carnage that they rose up against their overlords and replaced them with common men who had been bold and wise in the days of peril, thus bringing peace and justice at last to a land that seemed to have known nothing but war since time out of mind. At last men could believe as they would and live without fear of their neighbors, ushering in an era of undreamt prosperity, but hearts grew cold and selfish as they forgot the One who had blessed them so and soon fell again into alternating periods of war and uneasy peace, as is the wont of men throughout time until at last came that Day when the Master appeared to call all men to account, the living and the dead, and ushered in a Peace that would not end, for at last He dwelt among them.

 

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