Dark Pawn

The first chapter of this fiction has a lot going on, huh? It opens up a lot of questions which hopefully will be answered in later chapters – such as why did this dream like state occur?

In regard to the characters in this first chapter, there are a fair few. Most of which seem to scream sinister, such as werewolves and the Dark Lord, who cannot have good intentions for the main character. If it is just a nightmare, why would all these dark and evil (Stereotypically) characters appear in one go? Is there something else going on? These characters all have their own attributes, which the Dark Lord seems to understand the usage of, such as the power of the Sorcerers and the level of threat they could potentially pose. However, one minor thing is the statement about the goat-man. I am not too sure what is meant in regard to the use of his spear, or what side he is on. That being said, the relationship between Claudia and Marius is clear and nicely set up.

The pacing of the story seems fine. As stated above there is a lot going on, therefore naturally the assumption would be for the pacing to be fast, which works out quite nicely in this chapter in my opinion. The arrival of the Prince does feel like it slows the pace down a little, but not excessively, giving a little bit of a break from the more full on action in the scene which is helpful. The ending does change the pacing again to a much slower pace, which also works well as an indication that any possible threat has subsided for now.

Lastly, the ending as a whole seems to really add to the suspiciousness of the dream like state, begging the question of whether something awful is going to happen (again) in the near future. However, I am a little unsure as to the origin of this Dark Lord and Darkness, although it seems to be eluded to. Hopefully this will be explained at a later time, or delved into deeper.

Chapter 3


"Ouch!"

Another pin jabbed into her scalp. Claudia was becoming more and more convinced of the sadism of this attendant. No matter how many times Claudia cried out, the woman did not even pause. If anything, she only prodded Claudia harder. The young woman squirmed uncomfortably as the maid finished pinning her hair up.

"Stop that," the maid snapped as Claudia shifted from foot to foot, trying to bring circulation back into her feet. She jabbed the young woman with another pin. "I can't work if you keep squirming."

Claudia grumbled, but remained still. Finally, the attendant pronounced her work complete. The young woman shifted her shoulders back, admiring the way her gown fell. She couldn't recall why she hadn't worn it before. The material was the color of dull copper, and fit her tastes very well. Perhaps it was made just before the Dark Lord’s invasion in the last stage of the war, and she had never gotten the chance to wear it. Either way, she stepped out of her rooms and made her way down to the ballroom.

Marius met her at the door and smiled. "By the Maiden, Claude. You look… good."

Though Claudia wouldn't admit it, Marius looked quite well turned out in his black, red and white formalwear. The Rosemont crest, a single red rose, was embroidered just above the breast pocket of his vest. He offered his arm, and she took it. They entered the ball together and took in the proceedings. A small string ensemble played in the corner, and a few couples waltzed in the center of the room. Other lords and nobles lounged at a handful of tables set with food. Their father, Lord Maxwell Rosemont, sat with King Edrick Septimus and Prince Edrick Octavian at the high table, looking glumly at his empty wineglass. Lord Maxwell turned to Prince Octavian and tried to strike up a conversation, and though Octavian responded, the prince’s attention seemed elsewhere.

Claudia sighed with relief that her father at least had the good sense to refrain from too much revelry when such important guests were present. A man with the dusky skin of Arakurrom leaned over and added his own thoughts to their father's conversation, and Maxwell gave a genuine laugh.

"I didn't know Katunai was going to be here," Marius remarked, staring at the man.

"Katunai?"

"The Emperor of the Sun's right hand man," Marius clarified. "I had figured the Emperor himself would have better things to do than travel to Galletia, but that he deigned to send such an important an envoy… well, I must admit it's more than I expected."

"Marius? Is that you?"

The two Rosemont siblings turned, and Marius hastily bowed. "Why, Prince Allister! I… It's an honor!"

The golden-haired young man smiled. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Sir Marius. And who is this?"

Claudia curtseyed. "Lady Claudia Rosemont, your highness."

He kissed her hand. "Charmed to meet you, my lady."

"We've met before, your highness." Marius tensed almost imperceptibly next to her. Claudia hurried to correct her blunder. Of course Allister did not know he was mere feet from her in the final battle. It has slipped out somehow, and now if she didn't think quickly, she and Marius would both pay for her foolishness.

"It was at court. A few years ago. My father went on some form of business. Our meeting was very brief."

"Oh?" Allister's blue eyes sparkled with laughter. "Well, you'll have to pardon me, my lady. I spend most of my time at court half asleep. I'd much rather be off traveling the countryside than sitting in the throne room, as pretty as it is. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

"Of course, your highness."

The prince turned to Marius. "What about that squire of yours, the one from the battle? Is he here? I should like to see him again."

Marius swallowed. "Um, actually, Prince Allister… about Ponce… he didn't make it through the battle, I'm afraid. Some kind of poison in a wound. He died a few weeks ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Prince Allister did seem genuinely sorry. Claudia was a little surprised. She had expected a hero like him, especially a royal hero, to be rather distant, even cold. But Allister seemed bright and cheery, amiable even. The prince shook off his melancholy. "My lady, if I might borrow your brother for a time? There are some people I would like him to meet."

Marius smiled wryly. "That is, Claude, if you don't mind."

"Oh, go, have your fun."

As the two noblemen went on their way, Claudia scanned the room and waved. "Uncle Cassius!"

The man turned, a smile reaching all the way up to his deep green eyes. He ran a hand through his close-cropped salt and pepper hair, as if to smooth it down. Duke Cassius Valentine, was a rather tall, attractive man. He was one of their father's cousins, and one of Claudia's favorite people. He swept the woman up into a hug. "Don't you look so beautiful? You turned into a proper young woman while I was away at war!" He smiled devilishly. "How about a kiss for your favorite godfather!"

"My only godfather!" Claudia laughed, placing a kiss on his cheek. "There’s no contest!"

"An uncrowded field makes for an easy victory, my dear!"

As Duke Valentine poured her a small glass of red wine, Claudia glanced around the room. "Uncle, would you perhaps know Count Ferdinand Rueve of Malian?"

"Ah, your betrothed?" The duke winked. "Yes, I think that's him there. The rather tall fellow with dark hair. Not as tall or as good looking as me, but I suppose he'll do."

"Uncle, please." But Claudia followed his gaze to the man in question. He seemed to be a few years older than Marius's twenty-two summers. Count Ferdinand was speaking softly to a man from Abattoir, and did not see Claudia staring. He carried himself well enough, Claudia supposed. He was supposed to be intelligent. Soft-spoken, as well. Certainly, she could do far worse as marriages went, and the political connections it would give Marius later on would be invaluable.

"Well, you've had your peek," Cassius said with a laugh. "Now come, do me the honor of dancing a set or two with your old uncle. Your aunt Emile is back home in Mounteblank, so there's nothing to stop me from making every man in Sybalia seethe with jealousy."

Claudia allowed Cassius to lead her out onto the dance floor where they joined the other couples promenading on the large space. Cassius held his wineglass stem between the index and middle fingers of his right hand, resting the edge of his palm on Claudia's lower back where another partner might have laid their entire hand. When he led her through a turn, he would delicately sip the red nectar, but was very careful not to spill a single drop on Claudia's gown. And the Duke of Mounteblank certainly knew how to dance.

All of his steps were in perfect time, and he was able to hum the tune of any song under his breath after hearing just a few bars. He kept his movements completely in line, and was able to carefully lead Claudia through each step. The young woman knew that Cassius had been taught by his swordsmaster as a young boy first to dance, and then how to actually fight. Once, she had seen her godfather fight a duel, and his economy of movement then was just as graceful as it was now.

Finally, after dancing for at least a half hour, Cassius took his leave. With her chaperone gone, Claudia retreated from the dance floor and a gaggle of would-be partners in search of something to eat. She had barely had the chance to pluck one of Sybalia’s prized grapes from a platter when someone grabbed her arm and whirled her around.

Cato Sotomes smiled cruelly. "Well, well, Lady Rosemont. Would you your old friend with a dance?"

"Leave me alone, Cato."

The young man tightened his grip. "It's Baron Cato now. Don't be so uptight. Maybe after we dance, I'll do Count Ferdinand a little favor. You could probably use some breaking in before your wedding night."

"Leave me alone, Cato!"

But the baron only tightened his grasp on her wrist. "I'm just going to show you how to have a little fun, Lady Rosemont." He ran his tongue over his teeth, obviously enjoying the struggle she was giving. She tried to catch Duke Valentine's eye in the hope that he would come to help her, but the man had his back to them and could not see.

Claudia tried in vain to pull away, to buy some time so that her father or the Duke might see her. But her father was still talking to that Katunai from Arakurrom, and the Duke was deep in conversation with a group of men. "Now don't go screaming and causing a scene now," Cato murmured. "What a debacle that would be. A young woman catching fright when an old friend taps her on the shoulder. How embarrassing. Now what do you say we step outside for some air, Claudia? A walk in the rose garden might do you some good."

Then, the baron stiffened as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. Marius tightened his grip like a vise. "She said to leave her alone, Cato."

"That's Baron Cato to you, lordling."

Marius gritted his teeth. "Your father's title won't protect you forever, you bastard."

"My father is dead," Cato chuckled. "It's my title now. And until your father bites it, there's nothing you can do about it. Besides," he shrugged. "There's nothing to get so worked up about. Claudia and I were just having a little chat."

Marius's knuckles popped as they grasped Cato's shoulder more tightly. "Cato, let go of her. Claude, I want you to get out of here. There's no need for you to see what happens next."

"Are you going to attack me?" Cato smirked. "Are we going to step out for a quick duel? Claudia, you'll have to pardon me while I go stick a sword through your brother."

"Forget swords," Marius snapped, swinging Cato around. "I only need my bare hands to take care of a wretch like you."

Cato's right hand shot out, and Claudia was sure it was going to shatter Marius's jaw. But her brother nimbly stepped aside and the punch swung through empty air. Cato growled and tried to regain his balance. Marius never gave him the chance. He struck three times in quick succession, driving his right fist into Cato's abdomen, his left into the baron's solar plexus, and then finally swinging in with a wicked right hook to Cato's jaw.

Cato crashed to the floor with a groan, a trickle of blood oozing from his right nostril. Marius picked up a napkin to wipe his hands and turned to Claudia. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"There's no need to apologize!"

Marius smiled and signaled to two servants. "Take Baron Cato outside. Perhaps the water trough in the stables will be sufficient for him to clean up his act." The two servers shared a grin and hauled the baron out of the ballroom.

Marius straightened his cuffs and winked. "I don't think Cato will be bothering us again."

Claudia smiled. "And if he does, I know who to call."

Marius patted her arm and disappeared into the crowd again. "I'll keep an eye out for you, Claude. If you're in trouble again, I'll know."

"Thank you, Marius."

She watched Count Ferdinand for a time, how he slowly and carefully cut his food, how he seemed to carefully consider each word before he spoke. If only she could hear what he was saying. Should she go and introduce herself? Or was that too forward, too presumptuous? As she debated this, she felt someone move beside her.

"Have you accepted it yet, Claudia?"

The young woman whirled and saw a woman in a long black gown standing beside her. The Mother. But that was all just a dream, wasn't it? Was she seeing things? "Um, I don't believe we've met, madame. Accepted what?"

"You know full well who I am," the Mother replied softly. "Claudia, you can't deny it any longer. If you don't take the Crown of your own free will, circumstances will conspire to force the Crown upon you. Think of that pig, Cato. When you are the Dark Lady, you can punish him, and any boorish man like him. You'll have all the power you ever dreamed."

"I'm a woman. I don't need power."

"Who says women don't need power?"

Claudia gestured up to the high table. "Well, them, for starters."

The Mother shook her head. "Fools. What do they know? This society is wrong for you, Claudia. You could be so much more than some count's wife." The woman spat the words like they were a vile curse. "Who knows how many exceptional women live in Galletia, only to have their potential squandered by foolish, narrow-minded men?" The Mother held out her hand and flicked her wrist. There was a small plume of smoke, and there sitting on her palm was a black butterfly. The creature spread its wings and fluttered onto the flower centerpiece.

"When you take up the Crown, Claudia, you can do all that and more." The Mother stroked the flowers the butterfly rested upon, and they withered and died. "You could hold magic so strong that at the mere mention of your name, people will quiver in fear. Surely you felt it around Kalaryndor?"

"What if I don't want that kind of power?" Claudia said softly, trying to pull away. "I learned magic that heals. That's the only power I want."

The Mother seemed to understand and placed a hand on Claudia's shoulder. "This world bears the scars of many battles between Darkness and Light. Perhaps you could heal those scars. But to do that, you would need power." She ran her hands over the flowers again, and they slowly rose up, somehow coming back to life. "To begin the healing, you must first accept your role."

The young woman shook her head, searching for some way to escape. The Mother's face twisted into the slightest of frowns. "You are still unconvinced? For goodness sake, Claudia. All kinds of magical power could be yours. You would be feared and respected all over the world. All races would bend their knee to you. You would reign over them in divine majesty, uncontested and invincible."

"Kalaryndor wasn't invincible."

The Mother’s scowl deepened. "Nigh-on invincible then. None could compare to your majesty. A queen of all you surveyed, ruling with power that the peons cannot even comprehend. Armies would be scattered at the wave of your hand. Claudia…" The elegant woman grasped Claudia's hands. "This society is rapidly deteriorating under the rule of men. It's time for a new way of thinking, the woman's way. To do that, a woman needs power. And I am handing you this power on a silver platter."

Claudia took a gamble. "Oh, I'd prefer you didn't. The lemon tart was on a silver platter, and it gets sticky."

The Mother recoiled with a mixture of shock and bemusement. Before she could recover from Claudia's sarcasm, the young woman disappeared into the crowd of dancers. The Mother watched her go, deciding against pursuit.

"What an odd one," she murmured to herself. "Who would not want such a boon?" Then, she gritted her teeth. The Darkness must have a sovereign. She could afford to waste more time dallying with the Rosemont girl. Drastic measures must be taken.

As Claudia fled through the crowd, Marius threaded his arm through hers. "Hey, sis, you've got to come over here."

Claudia allowed Marius to drag her over to one of the tables set up around the room for eating and idle chatter. Prince Allister was sitting there along with two other men, a woman, and an elf. Though Claudia would never admit it, she could never tell the gender of elves from a first glance, and she thought it improper to stare. They were all limber and lean, and had a kind of ethereal androgynous beauty.

Marius pushed her into a chair almost before she had a chance to curtsey to Prince Allister. The golden-haired man smiled, and Claudia once again marveled at how young he was. Older than her, though not by much, but perhaps a year younger than Marius. "I'm glad you've returned to grace me with your presence, Lady Claudia."

"It's an honor, your majesty."

"Allister will be fine, my lady. That is, if I may be so presumptuous to address you as simply Claudia."

"Of course, your maj— I mean, Allister." She pointed to the platter heaped with fruit, bread, and cheese in the middle of the table. “May I? I’m famished.” Though it was improper, Claudia didn’t wait for a response before tearing off a heel of bread and slicing off a generous portion of pale, blue-veined cheese.

"Always nice to meet a girl who knows what she wants," the woman murmured as the others seated around the table shared a laugh.

Marius leaned forward. "So come on, Allister. You were just about to tell the story."

"Well, Loren is far more suited to tell it than I am."

The slender young man in dark green livery smiled and pulled a harp from beneath his chair. He started to pluck a tune, but the woman leaned over and swatted Loren's hand. "Oh no, prose will do just fine. We don't have all night to sit through one of your endless ballads."

When the bard started to protest, the other larger man shared a private smile with the elf. "Besides, Loren, this way we can interrupt you if you start going on a tangent."

Loren sighed. "Fine. But maybe Allister will want to start things off? I was the fourth companion, so my knowledge of the time before I joined is secondhand."

The prince laughed. "Oh, you just want a chance to finish your wine, Loren. Fine, fine, I'll start things off. So Claudia, Marius insisted on know the story of how I came to wield the Dawn Sword. This is the tale of my journey. If I start to bore you, feel free to leave."

"No!" Claudia exclaimed. "I've wanted to hear the whole tale for a long time! Wait a moment… if that's Loren the bard… then… then…"

"Then you’ve probably heard of the rest of us," the woman in the vermilion supplied. "But we try not to take ourselves so seriously."

"Would it not be wise to offer a formal introduction to the Rosemonts?"

Marius's eyes went wide. "Wait. Wait. You mean… this whole time, I've been drinking with… Oh, Light!" He pointed to the broad-shouldered man. "You're Vaughn D'Vigny!"

"Baron Vaughn D'Vigny now," the man replied. "But yes."

"And that means you're the Loren the bard!"

"The one and only!" Loren said with a grin.

"And you're Invidia Avrita!" Claudia gasped, and the woman inclined her head. She turned to the elf. "Which must mean that you…"

"Indeed. I am Isenthrel of Mantarodesyn."

Marius and Claudia glanced at each other, excitement evident in their eyes. The five greatest heroes of the war were here, in their home, at their table. "May I carry on with my story?" Allister asked with a small laugh. Marius and Claudia nodded and settled back into their chairs. Allister thought for a moment. "I may as well start with the dream. One night, shortly before the Dark Lord invaded, a voice in a dream told me to 'travel to where the sun rises'. Now, back then, I didn't think much of it. But as the war started to escalate and the Darkness to grow in power, the dream became more frequent and insistent. Finally, it reached the point where every fiber of my being was urging me to travel east.

"One day, I became very sick, so sick I could not even move. For an entire week, the voice whispered in my ear, telling me to go east, to find a power long sealed away. When I thought I was going completely mad, my father came to my bedside, and I told him of what the voices were saying. As he listened, the voice told me exactly what to say to him. I believe that voice told me, and subsequently my father, of three weapons hidden away in an ancient forest far to the east, and I had been chosen to wield one of them.

"At this point, Kalaryndor was pushing my father from all sides, and he needed any advantage he could get. I don't fully remember exactly what I said, but something must have resonated with him, for as soon as I was well enough to stand again, he sent me on my way to find this ancient forest. I left Radia Imperia soon after, and that was when my quest began in truth.

"After several days of journeying alone, I met a lone traveler on the road east. We walked together that day, for my horse was too exhausted for me to ride. We did not talk too much that first day, or the day after. It was enough to know that we shared a common path for a time, and that we had found an unlikely comrade if only until our paths diverged again. He did not know I was the prince, merely a man who could afford to have very rich traveling clothes and a fine horse. But on the third night, soon after we made camp, we were set upon by a group of brigands. I leapt up, sword in hand, ready to defend my companion. But as soon as I was on my feet, I saw that this strange man was wielding a broadsword with a high degree of skill, and that he was more than holding his own against the robbers who, I can now admit, were probably lured in by the clinking of my purse and my brocaded cloak."

D'Vigny grinned. "Ah, so now you'll fess up!"

"So it was you, then?" Marius asked.

"Yes, of course," the baron said. "Allister, would you like me to tell them of how were it not for me, those robbers would have left you dead in a ditch on the roadside?"

"What? No! That never happened!"

"It certainly would have! And I've been saving your sorry backside ever since!"

Claudia was amazed this man had the audacity to mock the prince so, but Allister did not seem to mind the banter. Before D'Vigny could continue the verbal jibes, the prince hastily picked up his tale. "D'Vigny told me that he was a retired soldier. After he served his time in the legions, he became a blacksmith. A blacksmith who was then driven out of business in his village because his horseshoes and plows were so shoddy!"

"But my swords are the best in all the land!"

"Irrelevant to the story, my friend. What is relevant is how ghastly all the nails, shoes, plows, axes and ties were." He playfully cuffed D'Vigny's arm. "But all right, we can move on. I asked if he wanted to come along to this sacred grove with me, and he agreed. By now, he knew that I was the prince. And so passed two lovely weeks of brotherly camaraderie. Then, the Great Cataclysm happened."

"What cataclysm?" Marius asked, completely enthralled.

Invidia rolled her eyes. "He's referring to meeting me."

"It was all D'Vigny's idea," Allister grumbled. "He said he had 'never seen someone put a crossbow bolt between a wretch's eyes like that before'. It was love at first sight or some nonsense like that."

"Nothing of the sort!" Invidia snapped back.

"I saw her worth as someone who could keep you from killing yourself!" D'Vigny added. "No offense, Invidia, but you're not my type. And too young for me, anyway." The ex-blacksmith was right. He looked like he was approaching his fortieth year, while Invidia was probably the same age as Marius.

"A tavern maid promoted to royal bodyguard," Loren said. "It even sounds like something out of a fairy story."

"I'm going to keep going," Allister said rather primly. "We went on from that hellhole of a village…"

"That hellhole of a village used to be my home!" Invidia snapped.

"So you have a first-hand account of how dreadful it is."

"Well, yes, but it's hardly polite to say."

Allister shook his head and glanced at Claudia. "Why couldn't we have brought along someone like you, a woman who wasn't going to chew my ear off at every opportunity?"

"I was busy learning healing magic, Allister."

"An admirable pursuit," Isenthrel said.

"Okay, hurry up!" Loren cried. "It's almost my turn!"

"Actually, I was thinking of going into a very detailed account of the groups of dark creatures that attacked us between when we met Invidia and when we met you. Of course, I can't leave out the battle for Frost River Bridge, or the fight to reclaim the Red Mountain path…"

"They were very difficult battles and you were severely outnumbered," Loren said quickly. "All three of you were very brave and skilled and showed remarkable tenacity even in the face of impossible odds. Dark creatures fell before your might like the shadows flee before dawn, so on and so forth. Allister, Vaughn and Invidia are the greatest warriors of the age, better heroes have never lived, and so on. Now it's my turn."

Before Allister could cut him off, the bard launched into his part of the story. "You see, my fair Rosemonts, Prince Allister, D'Vigny and Invidia came to a small border fortification on the far eastern boundary of the Galletian lands. I myself was detained there at the time as well, and chanced upon them. Many travelers and refugees were staying there, in the hopes that the tall fortress walls would keep Kalaryndor at bay. Now, the story of how I go there is an interesting one. I think the best place to start it is back when I was a child…"

"Oh, get on with it," D'Vigny grumbled. "It’s hardly fair to rush us through only to drag out your part."

Loren scowled. "Fine. Some other time then. All right, so I was already at the keep when they showed up, entertaining my fellow travelers with my songs and stories."

"He's actually quite good," Allister interjected.

"Thank you, your majesty, but will you kindly let me do my job?" Claudia realized just how much time these people had spent together, to be able to banter so easily. Loren idly plucked his harp as he continued. "So Allister and company got held up a few days. When we were all sitting around in the main hall, because that was pretty much the only thing to do in that dank fortress, a foul changeling tried to assassinate Prince Allister. Somehow, Kalaryndor had caught wind of the prince's mission, and sent this wretch to end any potential threat to his reign of terror.

"Now, because it's important in my line of work to have a quick eye and a quicker hand, I saw the threat just in time to stick my knife into the changeling's arm. That provided the distraction for D'Vigny, Invidia and Allister to beat back the changeling's minions…"

"Minions?" Marius asked.

"Oh, yes, a whole score of them. They were crawling down the walls, and people were screaming everywhere…"

"There were four of them," Invidia muttered. "And the fight was over before most of the travelers evne knew what was going on. It was hardly the mass panic Loren claims."

"It sounds better my way, Invidia. Do you want your name to live forever or not? Anyway, before the changeling could strike again, I fell upon their leader once more so the others could get into position, and then we took care of them in short order."

"You mean I took care of them in short order."

"Quiet, D'Vigny, it's my story now." The bard huffed out an indignant breath. "Allister asked me to come along, so I did. We traveled into the mountains, and after a couple weeks, we came upon Mantarodesyn. The elves kept us there for a while because, no offense Isenthrel, elves don't exactly understand urgency."

"Well, that is the truth, I am afraid."

"So, that said, they kept us there a while. Isenthrel was our guide in the city. Now, when the council of the city allowed us safe passage east, Isenthrel came with us because… I don't know why."

"My people wanted an emissary of the elves to be present," the elf replied, brushing a lock of pale hair from his forehead. "The lands of the eastern shores are sacred to my people, and I was sent to make sure that you treated them with proper respect. And, despite myself, I had come to enjoy your company ever so slightly."

"Among elves, that's high praise," Allister told the Rosemonts.

Loren shut them up with a hiss. "So we kept going, through the mountains. It was very cold, and were it not for the cloaks the elves had given us, I'm sure we'd all of have died of frostbite. We met some more dark creatures, a lot more wild and feral than the ones in Kalaryndor's main host. This massive werewolf really gave us trouble, chased us for days, and then there was that group of trolls. I still have nightmares about that soup cauldron. Anyway, time went on, and the weather got more temperate as we left those accursed peaks further and further behind.

"We finally came to this forest where the air just felt… I don't know how to describe it. Different, sure, but that's not all." Loren sighed wistfully. "Sorry, Marius. I don't think there are words for it." He glanced around the table. "You four know what I mean?" The other heroes nodded. Loren plucked at his harp strings again. "I'll see if it comes to me as I go on. So there we were, at this giant forest. We followed this tiny little trail through the trees, and time seemed to stand still. I know that sounds overly flowery, but I swear it’s true. The sun never moved in the sky, and we were probably in there for days. Strange, I know, but our whole journey was strange. After wandering for some time, we finally reached three ancient stone gates in the middle of the forest, and for some reason, we all froze in our tracks."

"It was the most bizarre sensation," Invidia said. "I felt like I wasn't supposed to go through them. Like I wasn't worthy of it."

"Exactly," D'Vigny rumbled. "I wasn't at all inclined to go any further. In fact, I wasn't sure I even could."

"The magic in that place was palpable," Isenthrel said softly. "Surely, Loren, even a minor talent like yours could feel it." The bard nodded, and the elf continued. "Claudia, what sense does your magic predominantly express itself through?"

"Touch, I think." The young woman shrugged. "Or at least, I think so. I feel all the things my magic is doing, and sometimes I feel heat or coolness, depending on the spell."

"I see. Mine, personally, is sight. I felt as though all the colors of the world were sharpened. Loren, you have mentioned at several junctures that you could always ‘hear’ my magic working."

"Now that you mention it, I recall the birdsong in the background was a lot more vibrant than usual."

"Interesting." The elf rested his chin on two elegant fingers. "Allister, the rest of the story is yours to tell."

Allister nodded. "Well, unlike the others, I could go through one of the gates. In fact, I felt drawn to do so. I walked alone for a time, and I came upon this… this temple, I guess. It was very old, but it wasn't in ruins. Ancient, but somehow intact. I walked up to the altar, and there was this brilliant light. I saw the shadows of three figures.

"One of them, the voice in my head from when I was ill, beckoned me closer to her. I say her because I know now that it was the Maiden. She told me, and I'll never forget the words, that I am now her right hand, and she my sponsor. The next thing I knew, I was waking up outside the temple, the Dawn Sword in my hand."

"When Allister came back to us," Invidia said slowly, carefully choosing her words, "he was clearly different. There was something else burning in his eyes. A new kind of power. We all recognized this, even before seeing the Sword. Right then, we knew that this was the power to take Kalaryndor down, once and for all."

"So we turned and raced back," D'Vigny said. "The journey home felt much quicker."

"Well," Isenthrel remarked, "by then, Kalaryndor was heavily pressing in on the Peoples of the Light, in all their various nations. He did not have troops to spare to scour the lands and seek us out. We met less opposition, surely."

"We made it back just in time," Allister said with a smile. "That's what matters. Just in time to strike that final, decisive blow, right when we needed it."

"It's a fantastic story!" Claudia said.

Marius nodded. "I wish I could have been there. To have seen the sacred grove…"

There was a crash as a servant staggered into the hall. The doors swung behind him, and Lord Maxwell glowered at the man. The servant rushed up to the high table, and Maxwell stood up. He shoved people out of the way, hissing orders to the messenger. Whatever the news was, word was spreading quickly through the servants in the hall.

Marius grabbed one of them by the arm as the woman ran by. "What's the meaning of all this?"

"Sir Marius, it's awful!" the woman cried, nearly hysterical. "The stables are on fire, and it's spreading towards the keep! And the vineyards! If something isn't done, everything is going up in smoke!"

Marius swore and pushed away from the table. "You all wait here. Make sure the guests don't panic. I’ll gather the servants and start a water brigade. Father and I will take care of this. Hopefully, I won't be long."

Claudia, Allister, and the other heroes from the sword quest hurried to one of the ballroom's balconies and watched as the ravenous fires slowly ate their way through the thatched roof of the stables. Allister turned to D'Vigny. "Thank the Maiden we left our horses out in the pasture. If anything had happened to Stockings, I don't know what I would have done."

Claudia figured he was referring to his iconic horse that had a long white patch on its right foreleg. But her mind was too preoccupied to give it much thought. She could only focus on one thing, one awful, horrible thing.

Cato was in the stables.

Chapter 5


The glowing geometric patterns around her hands faded away slowly, and Claudia sank back with a sigh. She used a cool washcloth to wipe the sweat from her brow and placed a hand over Cato's mouth to see if his breath had stabilized. His heartbeat had become more regular, and the worst of his burns were fading away.

Still, the callous baron was comatose, despite Claudia's best treatments. Though she personally did not like the man, she felt partially responsible for his affliction, and had made it her duty to help him recover with her healing arts. She had treated many similar burns in the war, and sometimes burns that were far worse. She worked under the assumption that Cato's biggest worry was that he had inhaled too much smoke. Even if his burns had the finest treatment under the sun, if he had gotten too much smoke in his lungs, then it would all come to naught.

"Why do you bother, Claudia?"

She looked up and glowered at the Warrior. "You again? Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Hey, I asked first."

The young woman sighed and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I'm a healer. It's my duty and obligation to help all who need it."

"He’s a vile man."

"That doesn't change the fact that he was hurt in my home, and that he is in pain." Claudia sighed. "I suppose you could say that I'm saving him because I can't think of any other way to repay him."

"Repay him? Claudia, you should kill him for all he's done to you!" The Warrior's hand stretched out. "I could do it, you know. Quickly, maybe even painlessly if you want it. Think about it, Claudia. How many times has this bastard tried to hurt you and your family?" The young woman chewed her lip, unwilling to admit just how frequently Cato had tormented Claudia and Marius. The Warrior smirked. "I thought so. So come on, Claudia. Let me do this. It won't take a minute. Want to leave the room?"

She hesitated, and that scared her more than anything. But then she thought about what Marius would do. Her brother would never allow someone to die without the opportunity to justify themselves. Claudia glanced down at Cato's unconscious form. "No. Just… don't. Maybe someday he'll be brought to bear, but not here. Not now."

"I see." The Warrior turned and strode to the window of the sickroom. He glanced over his shoulder. "Beautiful country, Sybalia. Before I met you, I hadn't been to these lands in a very long time. I should thank you for the opportunity."

"Well," Claudia sighed as she rubbed her hands together. "Perhaps I will pass on your compliments to my father. Now, quiet please, I have to get back to work." She held her hands over Cato and the healing patterns appeared again, adding their light to the sunlight that filtered through the gossamer curtains.

"A fine land," the Warrior continued. “A fine kingdom, now that I think about it. And if you accepted my proposal, I could lay it at your feet.”

"You know, you said the same thing yesterday. Verbatim. And I only know that because you said it exactly the same way the day before that."

The Warrior dragged a chair to the other side of Cato's bed. "Listen to me. Just hear me out, for a minute. Please, Claudia?" The young woman sighed and nodded for the Warrior to continue. "All right. I'm telling you this as your friend."

"You're no friend of mine, Warrior."

"I said hear me out, didn't I? If not as a friend, then as an ally."

"Sometimes it's better to have an enemy than an ally. At least with an enemy, you always know where you stand."

The Warrior smiled ruefully. "Do you have a caustic remark for everything I say?"

"Probably."

"You know, I've killed men for less."

"As you can plainly see, I'm no man."

"Well, that's a point to you, and it's time for me to make mine." The Warrior ran a hand through his sandy hair. "Now, the Mother, the Patron and I all want you to take up the Crown. It just happens that the other two are plotting and scheming to make you accept it. They'll both offer you things that will become harder and harder to say no to. And, well, the Mother and the Patron are both used to getting their way.

"If you keep holding out, they'll start making things happen. Bad things. To people you care about. They might hurt your brother, your father, or your people. To beings like us, what's a life or two? Or why stop there? If it takes the death of everyone in Rosemont Keep, hell, everyone in Sybalia to make you accept your destiny, they'll do it." The Warrior stretched out his hand, and the Crown appeared out of thin air, sitting on his palm. "Claudia, spare yourself the trouble. Just take it now. I’m trying to do you a favor. This kingdom is ripe for the picking, and with me at your side, no one can stop you from taking it all for yourself."

Claudia flicked her fingers, dispelling the patterns. She took a sip from a crystal glass of water on the bedside table. "Warrior, can I ask you a question that's been bothering me?"

"Of course, Claudia. Ask away."

"Why me?"

"Pardon?"

"Why me? Why are you so desperate to make me the Dark Lord?"

"Well, technically you would be the Dark Lady. But yes, I know, that's not the point." He rubbed his temples. "We told you about the Balance, did we not?"

"Not very well, I must admit."

The Warrior slouched in his chair. "All right. Story time, then. The two forces that govern this world are Light and Darkness. You know that much, at least. In every age, there are certain mortal beings who are chosen to become the physical embodiments of those two forces. That prince, for example. Allister. He is one of the champions of the Light, one of several. There’s a unicorn and an elf that have been chosen as well, along with the Emperor of the Sun in Arakurrom. Maybe a sylph on top of that, though I can't be certain. The Light likes to do things in fives and sevens.

"There may be strength in numbers, but having so many different champions distills the power that they can hold. From time immemorial, the Darkness has put all its eggs in one basket. By choosing one being to hold the full might of the Darkness's earthly power, we ensure that the Darkness can be as strong as possible. That system comes with certain drawback, however.

"If one of the Light champions were to be killed, the others would pick up the slack until such time as a successor can be chosen. So, though the Dark Lord wields more powerful than the individual champions of Light, if something should happen to that mortal, there is a severe drop in the Darkness's power in this world. And because Allister destroyed Kalaryndor with a weapon delivered straight from the Maiden, the forces of Light shattered the Balance, utterly destroying the Darkness."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Claudia asked. "He dispelled evil from the world."

"How many times must I tell you, Claudia? Darkness and evil are not necessarily synonyms. Darkness itself is neither good nor evil. It is only the perceptions of you mortals that make it so. Cannot the Light also be evil? Can it not burn and sear, blind and scald? Have you ever wondered why some of your countrymen turned to the Darkness in the war? The Darkness is comforting. As you said before, you always know where you stand with an 'enemy'. The forces of Light are wrapped in a convoluted web of politics and lies. There have been times when the Darkness was no better, but in Kalaryndor's regime… well, that elf always preferred the direct approach. Either you were with him, or you were against him. And if you were against him, you were dead."

"All right, so not everything about the Light is perfect," Claudia admitted. "But why should I want to rule the Dark?"

"Because if you don't, the results will be catastrophic. The creatures of Darkness are suffering in this world now awash in harsh and uncompromising Light. The cool, comforting caress of night has been taken from them. Only a few bastions of true darkness remain, and those are fast fading away." The Warrior's brow furrowed and his clear eyes darkened. "They are dying, Claudia. With every day you refuse to take the crown, your people suffer and die."

"My people are here, in Sybalia."

Now the young man laughed. "Oh, you don't know how right you are! Look." He pointed out the window. "Summer is just beginning, isn't it? And summer has always been just long enough for the crops to mature and grow, allowing just enough rainfall to allow them to thrive, especially in fertile grasslands like these."

"Well, yes." Claudia stood to wash her hands, but did not take her eyes from the Warrior.

"This summer will not be like that."

"I beg your pardon?"

"This summer is not going to end. Autumn and winter were seasons tied to the Darkness. With the Darkness banished from this world, the dying times will not come."

"I fear I don't see how this is a bad thing."

"Because what comes before the winter, Claudia? The harvest. Well, the crops will be not be harvested because the seasons will not change. They will burn in the harsh light of the sun before they mature. Rivers and lakes will dry up. Plains will bake, and when there is no food for the animals to eat, they will starve. The animals that eat those animals will starve too, and so on. Do you see, Claudia? It's a destructive spiral."

"But why does it have to be me?" Claudia cried. "Why not another person? Surely there are others who are better suited."

"While I agree with you," the Warrior said, "it just wasn't meant to be. Claudia, the Darkness chose you. I'm just the messenger. So please. For the sake of the world, take the Crown."

The young woman shook her head. "I… I can't."

The Warrior closed his fist, and the tiara disappeared. "I see." He glanced up as Claudia moved to the door. "Are you done here?"

"Yes. I'm going to let Cato rest now. The spell I used will have a more long-term effect. The best I can do right now is let him be."

"Ah. Well, then I may as well come with you." The Warrior held the door for her. As they walked down the empty corridor, the Warrior ran his finger over the stonework on the windowsills, not saying a word. Claudia was a little impressed at how much of a gentleman the Warrior had been. Whenever she had asked him to leave her alone, he had. In the way he treated her, she was reminded strongly of Marius's mannerisms. Was it part of his nature, or was the Warrior consciously doing so in a far more subtle manipulation?

Feeling her eyes on him, the Warrior glanced up. "I can't play the nice man forever, Claudia."

"Were you reading my mind?" the young woman gasped.

"Not quite. Your emotions and expression. If you had as much time to work on that kind of thing as I have, you could do the same. So I guessed correctly, didn't I?" Claudia nodded, and the Warrior sighed. "Claudia, I have a deadline to keep. I need you to take up the Crown in just a few weeks, or my powers will start to decrease dramatically. As it stands now, I'm on borrowed time. You're a nice girl, but honestly, my self-preservation instinct wins out over any camaraderie I have for you. You understand?"

"I think that in the same situation, I would feel the same. So I don't blame you."

"Glad to know we can see eye-to-eye. Because you were such a good listener earlier, I won't tempt you anymore today. But I'll be back tomorrow, and if I seem… different, there's a reason for that. I like having my powers at their full strength. And if you stand in the way of that, I will take measures to keep myself strong. Good day."

"Warrior, wait!"

But the young man had stepped back, his eyes cold and stony. When Claudia reached out, he suddenly transformed into a large black hawk that flew out one of the open windows that lined the corridor. Claudia raced to the sill and leaned out over the wall, trying to see where the bird had flown.

"Hey, Claudia!" Marius called from down the corridor. Count Ferdinand walked beside him, and they both hurried towards her. "Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, I was just musing to myself," Claudia replied quickly. "Some details about Cato's treatment."

Her brother glanced at the door to the sickbay. "Is it going well?"

"As well as can be expected."

Marius nodded. "Good to hear. Well, we found her, Ferdinand. I'll leave you two be." He turned and went back the way he came, whistling a tuneless song.

Claudia turned to the count and smiled. "You wanted to find me?"

"Oh. Um, yes. I was wondering if you had no other plans for tomorrow… you might be interested in going riding with me."

"Certainly! I would love to!"

"Wonderful!" Ferdinand glanced around. "I was also curious about something else. Does Rosemont Keep have a library?"

"We do," Claudia replied with a smile. "Would you like me to take you there?"

"I would enjoy that very much."

She led her fiancé to the well-lit room near the very heart of the castle. Claudia selected a leather-bound tome at random from the rather small section of stories and ballads. She glided over to one of the extremely comfortable armchairs near the large window that looked down on the courtyard. Ferdinand walked a slow circuit around the library and glanced over at Claudia. "What do you recommend, my lady?"

"Oh, I don't know. There are so many good stories."

"I'm more partial to the chronicles of battles myself. A little less glorified and more down to earth."

The woman's brow furrowed in thought. "I think we have a few of those on that shelf there. But are you sure? They are very dry, or so Marius tells me."

Ferdinand shrugged and strode to the shelf, selecting two after careful consideration. Then, he crossed to a shelf that contained a record and archive of Sybalian natural phenomenon over the past three centuries. He shook his head without picking any and moved to the shelf of legends that Claudia so frequented and selected two more books before coming to sit across from her.

"Can you finish all of those?" Claudia asked.

"I doubt it!" Ferdinand laughed. "But I like to skip around when I read, especially in something so basic as a battle account. So what are you reading?"

Claudia did not answer until she reached the end of the paragraph she was on. "The tale of Danicka the Bold. I started it some time ago, but I never got around to reading the end."

"Danicka… The name seems familiar. Was he…"

"She."

"Oh, now I remember! She was that lady knight from that year ages ago, who fought alongside Edrick Primus."

"Her story is very compelling. She was just a peasant before the war, but she stood up for what she believed in and became a powerful woman purely on her own merits."

"Like Lady Invidia, yes?"

"Very much so."

They passed a very enjoyable afternoon cloistered away in the library, surrounded by dusty tomes and the smell of ink.

When Claudia retired to her chambers that night, she fell asleep quickly, but shorlty after, she stirred at the sound of something moving in her room.

The young woman quickly rose to consciousness, and opened her eyes just slightly. The Mother stood before her, distractedly brushing a lock of jet-black hair back from her shoulder. She exhaled and straightened her dark gown and fixed the silver bangles on her wrists. Claudia allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction at this. Even supremely powerful beings couldn't look good all the time, apparently.

Just before the Mother was finished with her primping, Claudia appeared to snap awake. The woman recoiled slightly. "Why, you are up faster than I thought."

Claudia only smiled back in reply. "I'm a light sleeper."

The Mother beckoned with one hand. "Come with me, Claudia."

"Where?"

"I just wish to admire the view from your balcony."

The younger woman slid out of bed and walked to the Mother's side. She leaned against the stone railing of the ledge and allowed the pleasantly cool night air to play through her hair.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" the Mother asked. "The world under the blanket of night." She waved her hand, and a thick bank of clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring the stars and moon. "Yes, now it is perfect. A kingdom of night and profound beauty."

"I'm less than enchanted," Claudia sighed.

"That could be arranged," the Mother replied with a smirk, languidly flexing her wrist.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"You would never know."

"Are your curses that powerful?"

"My dear, there are many kinds of spells. Curses are one, yes, but so are enchantments, and your little healing charms another. But those are but the tip of the iceberg."

"What's an iceberg?"

"Another story for another time, dear. Please stay on task. There are many types of magic. Hexes, workings, spells to call fire, magics that can shift the heavens, incantations that turn lead into gold. I could teach you all of the great and terrible magics of the Darkness, Claudia. Just think of it."

The Mother waved her hand, and the darkened Sybalia vanished, replaced with another vista. The two women now stood atop a mountain that towered over the arid desert plains of an exotic land. The Mother snapped her fingers and a violent tremor shook the earth. The top of the mountain disintegrated as glowing lava poured from the summit. Ash billowed high into the air, choking Claudia. As the molten liquid drew steadily closer to them, the Mother smiled grimly.

"Do you see the power you could command?"

Claudia could only wheeze in reply. The Mother arched an elegant eyebrow. "Not enough? Perhaps another display is in order."

In the time it took Claudia to blink, they were whisked away from the erupting volcano to a distant island. Clouds roiled in the air above as waves buffeted the white sands of the shore. Lightning flashed above Claudia's head, all directed by the Mother's waving fingers. She seemed to be conducting an orchestra, guiding the unstoppable forces of nature to buffet this small patch of land, this last bastion against the raging tempest. As the trees were ripped from the soil and cast asunder and birds of every color imaginable took to the air, Claudia grabbed the Mother's arm. "Stop!"

"One thing more!" the Mother cried back, and the island vanished.

They stood on a balcony once more, but this was not Claudia's bedroom in Rosemont Keep. She stood in the shadow of a massive black tower, rank upon rank of soldiers and subjects standing before her. The Mother raised her hands high, and as one, the assembled figures bowed. It was like a wave sweeping backwards, and in perfect unison. Though it terrified Claudia, a small part of her was exhilarated. It felt so right, somehow. She leaned forward, watching as her subjects worshipped her.

"Do you not see the power you could hold?" the Mother hissed in her ear. "All of this, all of this and more, could be yours. You know what must be done." The Crown appeared in her hand, and she held it out to Claudia. "Take it. I can see it in your eyes. That longing, that desire for power that all living creatures possess. Take it, Claudia. I can make you so much more than you could ever dream. You would be more than a queen! You would be unto a god!"

"No!" Claudia cried, and the illusion slipped away. They were back on her balcony, just outside her bedroom.

The Mother drew back with a snarl. "I gave you a chance, Claudia. It did not have to be this way."

The young woman shrank back. "What do you mean?"

"If you will not accept my power freely," the Mother growled, "you will learn to fear it."

Claudia drew back from the fury blazing in the woman's eyes. The Mother howled and turned into a pillar of black smoke. It strongly reminded Claudia of Kalaryndor's demise when the Dawn Sword was driven into the Dark Lord's heart. The Mother shot into the clouded heavens, her scream of rage echoing in Claudia's ears.

The young woman ran her fingers through her light brown hair, unconsciously straightening it as she willed her heartbeat to slow. She staggered back to her bed and pulled the blankets up around her. She would not sleep again that night.




Lord Maxwell's face was a stony mask. One hand slowly massaged his brow as the other traced a slow circle on the heavy wooden table. Ferdinand and Marius sat on either side of him, both silent and ashen. Maxwell looked up when Claudia walked into the hall.

"How did Baron Cato fare when you left him yesterday?"

Claudia walked slowly to her chair and carefully sat down, smoothing her skirts. She signaled a servant to bring her tea and sugar and tried to string together a coherent sentence in reply. "He was improving, slowly but steadily. His burns were healing, and his breathing was regular. Why?"

Maxwell clenched his fist and said nothing. Ferdinand turned back to his breakfast and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible. Marius blew out a slow breath. "Cato is dead, Claude."

"What?" Claudia cried.

Her brother nodded. "One of the maids saw this morning when she went to clean the sickbay. He was just… gone. It looks like he died from complications from the fire."

"Burns or lung damage?"

"No, no, the burns seemed to be healing well enough. I think it was the smoke in his lungs we were talking about."

Claudia was slowly shaking her head. "But the spell I used was supposed to help his body clear it out and repair the damage. It couldn't have gone wrong, I used it so many times in the war. Father, is he still in the sickbay?"

Maxwell nodded slowly. "We have not yet moved him. I wanted a chance to gather my thoughts."

Claudia turned to Marius. "Take me there."

"Is that wise?" Ferdinand finally asked.

"I've seen death before!" Claudia snapped. "I was a healer! I've seen far more gruesome things than a man who died peacefully in his sleep! Now come on, Marius!"

Her brother and the count followed after her, and they all but sprinted to the opposite wing of the castle. Claudia pushed the door to the sickbay open and crossed to Cato's bed. The baron was ghostly pale, his blue veins in sharp relief against his skin. Claudia summoned a small pattern with her right hand and held it several inches above Cato's corpse.

"The spell I used was working right up until the end." She glanced at Marius and Ferdinand. "This wasn't from the fire. Someone killed him."

"There are no signs of a struggle…" Marius said.

"Because Cato was comatose," Ferdinand murmured in reply. "It would have been easy to suffocate him." The count prowled around the room. "These windows open from the inside, and were locked. Was the door…?"

"No," Claudia sighed. "It was unlocked. It wouldn't have been hard to get in."

Marius snapped his fingers. "But it had to have been someone in the keep. The guards haven't let anyone in. The three of us are clean, as is Father. After dinner, we spent most of the evening in the parlor, and then we all saw each other to bed. The night guard can attest that none of us left our rooms.

"We'll get alibis from the servants, and see if any of them had motives. Claudia, you and I need to be careful. We had every reason to see Cato dead after he had treated our family, and you had the means, being his nurse and all. Maybe he wronged a servant of ours, or there was an assassin who snuck in some time ago. Whatever it was, we'll need to know how they did it."

"I think I can answer that," Ferdinand muttered, and pointed to the bed next to Cato's, or more accurately, the pillow. The left corner and right edge showed definite signs of a human hand grasping it and two depressions around where Cato's mouth and nose would have been. "He was suffocated. That's why there was no sign of… well, anything. With Cato unconscious, he probably was unable to thrash around or make any noise."

Marius gritted his teeth. "I never liked the bastard," he growled, "but this leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I'll figure out who did this." He led them out of the room and summoned a group of guards. "Round up everyone in the castle. I want to know where everyone was last night."

The guards hurried off, and one bumped into Claudia's shoulder, knocking her off-balance. As he helped her up, he quickly apologized. "I'm so sorry, ma'am." Then, as he continued on his way, he lowered his voice. "And you're welcome."

Claudia could only stare in mute horror as the Warrior chuckled and continued on his way.

Chapter 7



"Claude, wake up!"

Claudia raced to her door and threw it open. Marius was trying to catch his breath just outside, his expression grim. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"You need to come see this. Now."

He didn't even give her a chance to change into proper clothes. Marius grabbed Claudia's wrist and pulled her through the halls of Rosemont Keep. The young woman struggled against him. "Marius, where are we going? What's wrong?"

Her brother only shook his head. He sprinted through the main hall and up a flight of stairs. He stopped just around the corner from the castle library and shoved her forward. Claudia could smell blood in the air, and her natural instincts told her to run away. But Marius's hand steered her forward, and she had no choice but to go on.

Then, she fell to her knees with a cry of grief.

Count Ferdinand was sprawled on the ground in a pool of his own blood. An ugly red slash across his throat gaped up like an evil, grinning mouth. His ghostly pale face was contorted into a mask of horror. Marius's hand clenched on her shoulder, and the young man was trembling with rage. "A maid found him this morning." He glanced down at her. "This was no accident, Claudia. This was deliberate murder."

"Who would have done such a thing?" was all Claudia could manage to say.

Marius's visage hardened. "If the evidence was anything to go by… you, Claudia."

"What?" she cried.

Marius led her to Ferdinand's side, and gestured at a small length of silver lying beside him. "Do you recognize that?"

"That's my penknife!" Claudia gasped. It had been lost since… since the Triad had first spoken to her. And the Warrior had confiscated it.

The Warrior had killed her fiancé.

"You didn't do this, did you?" Marius asked, his icy calm slipping and a panicked note coming into his voice. "Please, Claudia. Tell me it wasn't you."

"Of course not," she whispered. "Why would I?"

"Because he was trying to take you away," Marius replied, just as softly. "And you wanted to stay here. I heard you talking. I didn't think you would go to such lengths…"

"I didn't Marius! Please, you have to believe me!"

Two guards took her by the arms. Her brother shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Claudia. Father decided that it was best to put you in protective custody. Until we can prove your innocence, it would be best if you were out of the public eye for a little while."

Claudia could only watch dumbfounded as the guards took her away to the dungeon.




The light that streamed through the barred window of her cell was almost a cruel jape. It provided only enough dank illumination to reveal to Claudia just how hopeless her predicament was. She was in a cramped cell in the catacombs of Rosemont Keep, with barely enough light to see the edg of her straw matress.

Claudia had pounded on the solid wooden door until her knuckles bled, and screamed herself hoarse. Finally, utterly exhausted, she slumped down onto her straw sleeping pallet, cradling her head in her hands. The shadows in her cell had lengthened, casting most of the enclosure into complete darkness.

"Claudia?" someone whispered.

With a scream of rage, the young woman leapt from her mattress, her aching muscles fueled by blind rage. The Warrior stood silent and unmoving as Claudia's fists hammered against his chest, his visage betraying no emotion. Finally, when Claudia fell back to catch her breath, he tried to lead her back to the straw pallet.

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't even touch me."

"Claudia, whatever I did, I did in your best interests." The young man shrugged. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even expect you to understand. But perhaps in time you'll come to see why I did what I had to. Count Ferdinand was going to take you away from Sybalia, and we simply could not afford for that to happen.

"And think about it, Claudia. Down here, you're away from the Mother and all of her machinations. You're safe."

"Safe?" Claudia snapped. "Safe? How is this safe? In Sybalia, the price for murder is death. If they can’t prove I didn’t do this, they're going to kill me. My father can’t make exceptions to his own laws. So explain to me just how this helps?"

The Warrior shook his head and held out his right hand. In it, the Crown of Darkness glittered, even in the darkness of the cell. "Just take it, Claudia. Then you can simply… walk away."

Claudia knocked the Warrior’s wrist aside, making the Crown tumble to the floor of the cell, where it vanished into the shadows. "I would rather die that take up your damned Crown. At least in the grave I'll finally have some peace." In a very unlady-like gesture, she whirled and spat at the Warrior's feet.

Rage flickered like tiny fires in the Warrior's eyes. He sucked in a breath, trying to calm himself. "I see now that you’re a lost cause. Well, no matter. If you die, you die. When you do, the Darkness will simply choose another Lord. Perhaps that one will be more agreeable." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the cell, passing through the door as though it was nothing but a curtain of mist.

Claudia fell onto her mattress and let out a long breath. Her shoulders heaved with silent sobs, not for offending the Warrior, but because the reality of her situation had crashed down on her. In the morning, she would be tried before her father, and very likely found guilty. It was her knife, she had no alibi, and it wasn’t as though she could pin the blame on an indescribably powerful inhuman creature without sounding like a total madwoman.

But perhaps she was a madwoman. Thinking it over, she found a measure of peace in that. She was away from the Mother and the Warrior, and all their constant temptations, whether they were figments of her imagination or not. When she died, the Mother would cease the slaughter her plague was causing. But to save her people… she would have to die.

Claudia, like every other mortal creature, feared death. Now that she was looking it in the eye, she was terrified. Unable to control herself, she began to shake. She would never again dance with Uncle Cassius. She would never get married or have children of her own. She would never see Marius again, and worst of all, her brother would always think of her as a murderer.

"Claudia?"

The young woman let out a breath. She recognized that voice, though it was a hazy recollection. She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position and stared into the shadows. "I thought you'd given up. Thought I was a lost cause."

The Patron stepped from the darkness. "Though the Warrior and I often work together, with similar goals, we are not of one mind. What he, and by extension, the Mother thinks is not necessarily what I believe. I think I see a glimmer of potential in you." The old man sighed and held out the accursed tiara. "This may be your last chance, Claudia. Your final offer. Unlike the Warrior and the Mother, I won't force this upon you. You have to choose, of your own free will. And I will only offer this once. You answer will be final."

"So what are you going to offer me?" Claudia asked. "Eternal life?"

The Patron chuckled, a sound completely devoid of malice or ill intent. The old man was genuinely amused. "Eternal life? Don't be ridiculous, Claudia. Nothing lasts forever." He gestured at the mattress. "May I sit?" Claudia shrugged, and the old man sank down with a groan. The Patron closed his eyes and folded his hands over his chest. "Our lives are so very fleeting. To the rocks and rivers, we are just shades dancing in the fog, there and gone in a heartbeat. And even those things, which we presume eternal, they too will fade. The mountains will one day crumble to dust, the mighty trees die and wither away, and the oceans will dry up, leaving behind nothing but scorched earth. Even the stars will someday spiral off this mortal coil and drift as diamond dust through the cosmos until that too comes to an end. Even gods die, Claudia. When one has lived as long as I have, and believe me, my dear, I have lived a very long time, you realize that nothing is eternal. Everything that has a beginning must have an end."

The young woman studied the Patron's old, lined face. There was a strange, profound sadness behind his words. Though the old man had powers beyond comprehension, he knew that his existence was finite. In fact, Claudia would not be surprised if the Patron had used his magic to find out exactly where and when he would cease to exist. The Patron shook his head and let out another chuckle. "So no, Claudia. I will not tempt you with eternal life. Regardless of, or perhaps in spite of what you may think of me, I am an honorable man. I will not make a promise I cannot keep."

"So what are you here to offer me?"

"I should think it would be obvious." At the woman's blank stare, the Patron smiled. "I’m offering you a way out. If you accept the Crown, I will unlock the door to this cell, no more and no less.”

The Patron turned the Crown over in his hands, as though admiring the workmanship. “As I'm sure you've realized, my dear, if you remain here you will be killed. It serves both my interests and yours to get you out of this dungeon and into the world. I can always find a new Dark Lord, but I believe you have potential that I would like to cultivate. And you… you only have one life." He stood slowly and massaged the pain from his joints. "So Claudia, what will it be? Stay here and die, or go forth and live?"

Claudia took a deep breath. "I'll do it. I'll take the Crown."

"Wonderful!" the Patron cried. "I would tell you to wait here, but that would not be in good taste, would it?" He started towards the door, but a startled cry from Claudia gave him pause.

"Aren't you going to make me take the Crown?"

The Patron shrugged. "I think the honorable thing would be to first make good on my bargain. I will see you safely out of Rosemont Keep before I give you the Crown of Darkness. Does this sound fair?"

"Absolutely. Which makes me skeptical."

"Ah, learning already." The Patron walked through the cell door much as the Warrior had, vanishing through the heavy slab of wood as though it were nothing. His shuffling footfalls faded away into silence, and Claudia was left alone once more. The young woman waited for some time in the darkness of her prison, but nothing changed. When she could make out the last sliver of moonlight through her barred window slit, a commotion in the hallway made her leap to her feet.

There was a crack, followed by three dull thuds, and finally the jangling of keys. Claudia's door swung open, and then Marius was standing silhouetted against the guttering torches in the hall outside. Her brother dropped the club in his right hand and beckoned quickly with his left. "Come on, sis. You don't have much time."

"What?"

"You didn't kill Ferdinand. I know that." Marius stepped one pace into her cell. "I saw the look on your face when you saw him. That was genuine surprise and shock. And I know you cared for him. There was no way you could have killed him, and I won't let them kill you for something you didn’t do. You have to get out of here."

Claudia embraced him. "But how?"

Marius's eyes hardened. "I've prepared a pack for you. It should have everything you need to get out of Sybalia. There's a horse ready in the stables, but you'll have to leave it as soon as the sun rises. It will throw off the trail. I'll do my best to confuse the dogs. Now hurry, Claudia."

He led her past the comatose guards, whom he had obviously ambushed from behind. Marius led her to the stables and helped her into the saddle. With deft, practiced motions, he fixed the small leather pack to the saddle and slapped the horse's flank, sending it flying out into the courtyard. Claudia seized the reins and urged the animal into a canter. She turned just enough to wave farewell to Marius.

Her brother touched two fingers to his forehead in silent salute. "Take care, sis."

"Goodbye, Marius."

And then she was racing across the wooden drawbridge, Marius lost from sight. As soon as she was clear of the castle walls, a dark shape loomed up in front of them. The horse screamed and tried to rear up, but Claudia jerked the reins and calmed the beast. The Patron held up the Crown of the Dark Lord in the palm of his hand, and offered it to Claudia.

The young woman took it without a sound and fixed it upon her brow. A sudden pressure between her temples made her want to cry out in agony, but she gritted her teeth and fought through the sensation. When she looked up, the Patron had vanished, leaving nothing but the smell of heady wood smoke in the air.

Claudia glanced around, blinking the tears from her eyes. Then she dug her heels into the horse's flanks and tried to get as far as she could by sunrise. Surely, the alarm was already being raised in Rosemont Keep. If she did not escape, she could count the hours she had left on one hand.




The Mother and the Warrior watched as the soldiers marshaled in the courtyard below. Here on the highest balcony of the tallest tower in Rosemont Keep, they had no fear of discovery. The Mother gave a heavy sigh, spinning a complex spell between her fingertips.

The Warrior raised an eyebrow as a patch of shadow detached itself from the wall. "You sly bastard. You outplayed the chess masters."

"Masters?" the Patron chuckled. "Hardly. Mastery would mean you are infallible, and as evidenced by this evening’s events, you still clearly have much to learn."

"If you're gloating, you can stop it," the Mother grumbled. "Or I'll fry you where you stand." Her menacing words were belied by her bored tone.

"I'm sure you would try," the Patron replied.

The Warrior stretched his arms behind his head and yawned. "Well now that's over with, and you won the wager. I guess bygones are bygones, and congratulations are in order, you old codger." He shook the Patron's hand. "So how are you going to do this?"

The Patron glanced down at the courtyard. "The age of Kalaryndor was one of brute force and head-on clashes. I think the age of Claudia will be a little more… subtle. While you two were busy squabbling, I was setting events into motion to help our new Dark Lady."

"Oh, cut it out," the Mother muttered. "I have enough of a headache already." She sighed again and waved her hands in a dismissive motion. The ruby and emerald patterns that danced around her fingertips vanished, and soon, all over Sybalia, all of those suffering from the plague that had wracked the land began to experience a miraculous recovery.

The Warrior stared out at the forest. "You really think she's going to make it out there?"

"Oh," the Patron laughed. "I'm sure of it."

Chapter 9

Famratyr ran his tongue over his lips. "This'll be fun. Just like the good old days, Azfel?"

"You know perfectly well that I was never a simple raider," the dark elf replied indignantly. "So no, this is not at all like the 'good old days,’ as far as I am concerned."

The werewolf shook out his mane of hair. "Well, sorry you missed out on all the fun in the last war. Now hush, it's nearly time."

Claudia leaned down, intent on the road. "We really have to do this?" she whispered.

Famratyr just scoffed. "If you're feeling squeamish, m'lady, you can sit it out. I'll bet I can handle it all just fine on my own." At that moment, the cart rumbled down the road, making a dreadful racket. Famratyr grinned. "Let’s go!" He leapt from the underbrush with a howl, startling the draft horse. Three of the four bodyguards raced to engage him. Azfelyndoran calmly let out a breath as he released his bowstring, and one of the men fell, a gray-fletched arrow through his throat.

Famratyr whirled on the second and slashed across his jugular. Blood sprayed from the wound, and the man fell in a puddle of the dark red liquid. The werewolf spun the knife around and plunged it into eye of the third man. The man screamed, and broke free of Famratyr's grip. He fled across the fields, causing a terrible racket.

Azfelyndoran stepped from the trees with a sigh. "Really, you can't even do the simplest things without causing a great mess, werewolf." With quick, practiced motions, he shot two arrows into the man's back, and he dropped. The final guard threw his sword to the ground and knelt. "Yield! Please, I yield."

"Good," Famratyr growled. "Makes this easier." The werewolf snapped the man’s neck with a brusque, brutal jerk, using a strength that belied his wiry muscles. He kicked the limp body into the grass and picked up the man's dropped sword, swinging it back and forth experimentally. "I've never used one of these things before. Feels weird. Give me a set of claws and teeth any day."

"Keep it, you dunce," Azfelyndoran sighed. "You may not need it, but it will fit the costume." He wrenched the first arrow from the man it had felled, wiped its tip on the grass by the road, and then deposited it back into his quiver.

By now, the cloaked figures in the cart were truly panicking. Azfelyndoran turned to the nuns and shrugged. "I do not wish to engage in pointless slaughter, but I fear I am not at the liberty to let you live."

The nuns began to scream. Azfelyndoran sighed and began to launch arrows once again. His shots always were lethal, and the deaths were quick ones. Those that fled the cart were caught by Famratyr in the field, and he cut their throats with his knife. When every last nun was dead, Azfelyndoran selected two of the least soiled cloaks as Famratyr stripped the guards of the best pieces of armor. Azfelyndoran gestured back at the woods. "It's safe to come out now, Lady Claudia."

"You didn't have to kill them," Claudia snapped. "They yielded."

"They saw us, and at least saw what I am. Word cannot spread about us. We did what was necessary. Now, take this cloak, and pull the hood up over your crown. That must stay hidden."

Claudia knew it was foolish to argue, and the nuns would stay dead no matter how much she protested. In the future, she would have to keep a tighter rein on her new vassals, and not allow this kind of massacre to happen again.

"Hey, Azfel," Famratyr grunted, fumbling with the straps on his ill-gotten armor. "Give me a hand with this."

"Do you take me for a squire?" the dark elf snapped. "That is not my place. Do it yourself."

"Here, let me," Claudia said, and quickly cinched the armor around the werewolf, drawing on her own experience in helping take armor off wounded soldiers, and for helping Marius into his.

"M'lady, you really shouldn't be doing that. A queen doesn't outfit her knaves." The werewolf tried to shy away, but Claudia shook her head.

"If that… queen is relying on her knave to protect her, that's the best thing she can do."

Azfelyndoran kicked the corpses into the long grass by the side of the road. "With any luck, those will not be discovered until we are well away from here. And who would suspect two pilgrims and their sworn sword of such a ghastly murder?"

Claudia had calmed the draft horse on the cart enough so that they could make use of it. Azfelyndoran climbed to the driver's bench and urged the horse into motion. Famratyr jumped up into the rear with Claudia and unbuckled his sword. "It's so large and clumsy, m'lady. How did those knights do it? If I could just use my fangs, I’d—"

"You do not have your fangs," Azfelyndoran said over his shoulder. "And if you must play the part of a human warrior, you must have all the necessary props."

Claudia swallowed the lump in her throat. "I still don't think we had to kill all those innocent nuns."

"We're creatures of Darkness, m'lady," Famratyr scoffed. "As far as you humans are concerned, senseless bloodshed is all we're capable of."

"And Darkness is, at its heart, chaos," Azfelyndoran added. "Fear, confusion and yes, death, are some of the Darkness's greatest weapons. If we intend to bring the power of the dark back into balance, well, that is what must be done."

"If you want to make breakfast, m'lady, you've got to crack a few eggs."

"A little crude, but yes, Famratyr has the right of it. If it makes you feel any better, there is no blood on your hands. Famratyr and I did all the killing."

"But I could have ordered you to stop, couldn't I? Or at least made you spare the ones who yielded."

"And what would that have accomplished, Lady Claudia? The nuns would have raced to the nearest village, and we would have been captured and killed." Azfelyndoran shrugged. "Those nuns had dedicated their lives to the Light, which, need I remind you, makes them your adversaries. They were the first casualties in a new war."

"I'm tired of war," Claudia mumbled.

Famratyr shrugged. "I've never felt so alive as when I'm in battle, m'lady. Might be knowing that I could catch my death in a heartbeat, but… the feeling is like nothing else."

Azfelyndoran shook his head. "Lady Claudia, there is a reason both of our peoples look upon the werewolves as savages."

Famratyr growled. "You don't understand. Every scar tells a story, and each fight makes you stronger. We don't stop fighting because we want to be the best we can be. Might be the werewolves have the right of it, not the elves. Maybe we're on the right road to perfection, and you're just chasing shadows and mist with your magic."

"You…" Azfelyndoran's normally stoic face contorted. "A savage like you has no idea what perfection is." He took a deep breath and reined in his emotions, turning back to the road

They traveled in complete silence for a long time. Finally, Claudia cried out, pointing at Famratyr's arm. "You didn't tell me you were wounded!"

The werewolf flexed and winced at the pain. "What, this? It's nothing. One of those mercenary bastards gave me a little love tap."

"Take your jerkin off," Claudia commanded. "We can't let it become infected."

"Why not?" Azfelyndoran grumbled. "The world can do with one less werewolf."

"You be quiet," Claudia commanded. "Focus on the road, and look for a stream." She probed at Famratyr's arm with her index finger, making the werewolf grimace. "With all this dried blood, I'm having trouble figuring out exactly where the wound is," the young woman said. "Can you show me?"

Famratyr traced a line from his shoulder blade to midway down his bicep. Claudia could not help but admire the werewolf's tenacity in enduring a wound like that, something that would have maimed a normal man. "Azfelyndoran, have you seen a stream yet?"

The elf pointed across one of the fields. "I think I see a little creek over there. It might be an irrigation trench."

Claudia followed his gaze. "It's not ideal, but it's the best we have. Come along, Famratyr. Can you walk?"

The werewolf scoffed. "My uncle Grismund ran three miles after Edrick Sextus's men cut his leg off. I can manage to stroll across a field."

They knelt by the streambed, and Claudia ripped off the hem of her cloak. She soaked it in the water and used it to wipe away most of the blood that caked Famratyr's arm. "Now, hold very still. This may sting a bit, but if you move, you'll break my concentration." She placed her hands above the cut and focused on the geometric healing patterns she had learned years ago.

Famratyr pulled his arm away, his lips pulled back to bare his teeth. "M'lady!"

"Famratyr, I told you not to move!"

"But m'lady! That was light magic!"

"Yes, Famratyr. And I was going to use it to heal you."

"But… but you're the Dark Lady. You can't use light magic!"

"And why not? Stop being foolish and give me your arm."

Azfelyndoran watched from the road as Claudia seized Famratyr's wrist and conjured another glowing pattern above the sword cut. "Curiouser and curiouser. A sovereign of Darkness that can use the magic of Light…"

The travelers avoided other settlements and slept beneath the stars. Occasionally, they would take shelter in a grove of trees or a cave, if they found one. The weather was temperate enough, and they did not fear the rain. Finally, they were forced to enter a village to buy feed for the horse, who could no longer subsist on the grass from the roadside.

"Should have just eaten the damn thing and been done with it," Famratyr grumbled as they made their way up the village's single street. When Claudia tried to pay for the horse feed with what meager coin she had, the vendor held up a hand. "Now hold on a minute. Don't think I don't know what you are. I fought in the war."

Claudia unconsciously pulled the hood of her cloak further down over her crown, though that could not have been what the man was talking about. He pointed a crooked finger at Famratyr. "I've seen your like before! Dress an animal in armor, doesn't mean it isn't an animal! You're a werewolf!"

"Do not be ridiculous!" Azfelyndoran snapped. "The werewolves are all dead."

The man peered under the hood of his cloak. "And a dark elf too? What are you, girl? A changeling? Or worse?"

The commotion had drawn others. Farmers had raised up their pitchforks, and the few men with swords had them drawn. "Perhaps we should leave," Azfelyndoran murmured.

"To hell with that, let's kill 'em all," Famratyr snapped.

"Get away from here!" Claudia cried. "We don't need to spread any more hatred. Just run!"

Famratyr snarled, a low growling noise deep in his throat. "What about the horse?"

"Leave him," Azfelyndoran said sharply. "He'll be better off without us."

The werewolf nodded, and hurled the large sack of feed at the merchant, making him fall to the ground. The three travelers sprinted out of the village. People hurled stones at them as they passed, making several large bruises when they connected. A farmer clubbed Azfelyndoran with the shaft of his pitchfork, raising a welt on the elf's forehead. Once they passed beyond the village fields, the pursuit slowed. Several men tried to gather horses to lead a hunt, and the travelers vanished into the woods around the settlement.

In the deepest part of the forest, they stopped to rest. Claudia tended to her companions' wounds, and they risked building a small fire. Soon after darkness fell, the Dark Lady fell asleep. Famratyr brushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes. "You know, I think I'm starting to like this girl," he murmured. "She's not like Kalaryndor. She doesn't want to hurt people."

"We have to hurt people, fool."

Famratyr glowered at the elf. "Why? Because your ancestors told you so? Yeah, well so did mine. All that got them was an early grave. Maybe there's a chance for us to walk a different path. Don't the histories and songs talk about eras when there was peace between Light and Darkness, ages of balance?"

Azfelyndoran drew a branch from the fire and picked up his bow. "The songs and stories are simply that."

"Where are you going?" Famratyr asked.

"To do what we should have done earlier. I am going to make those people pay for what they did to Lady Claudia."

"You mean avenge your damaged pride?"

Azfelyndoran glanced away. "Don't be ridiculous."

Famratyr stood, balling his hands into fists. "Hey, it's not that I blame you. I might have done the same a few days ago. But right now, we have bigger things to worry about. We have the girl, Azfel. We've got to keep her safe until she comes to full power."

"And what if it's all a mistake? What if she's not really the Dark Lady?"

"You saw the Crown. Stop being an idiot."

The dark elf glared at Famratyr. "And what if she never reaches her full potential? What then? What if she is killed before she even claims the Sword?"

"Then I'll die next to her. What about you?"

"Get out of my way. I am in the mood to kill something. Best be sure it is not you." Azfelyndoran pushed past the werewolf, ghosting into the trees. Famratyr watched him go before pacing the clearing, torn between chasing after the elf and protecting his sovereign. Finally, he settled down next to the sleeping woman, his eyes scanning the darkened forest.

Azfelyndoran stood at the head of the village street and planted his torch in the ground. He gazed with undisguised contempt at the darkened windows. "Stupid humans," he spat. "Do you not know that danger lurks at night, even in summer?" From his quiver, he drew an arrow with its tip wrapped in cloth strips, the remnants of his stolen cloak.

The elf held the missile over the torch until it caught. Then, he nocked his bow and fired at the farthest thatched roof he could reach. He repeated it again and again until only five arrows were left in the large leather sheath. By then, people were fleeing their homes as the blaze spread from roof to roof, consuming the wattle and daub houses and everything contained within.

As the crowd stood stunned in the street, Azfelyndoran spread his arms wide. "You senseless creatures! Gaze upon the destruction of your lives and know that the nightmare has only just begun! The Dark Lord has been reborn, even more mighty and terrible than before!"

"It's Kalaryndor!" someone screamed. "Light preserve us, Kalaryndor has come to kill us all!"

"You think I am Kalaryndor?" Azfelyndoran roared. "You are even more foolish than I believed! I am but the least of the Dark Lord's vassals! This is just the beginning! Soon, there will come a winter with no end, and a night that will see no dawn! Soon, you will learn to fear the Darkness again!" Azfelyndoran turned on his heel and strode away, snatching up his torch as he did. When he passed the cornfield, he hurled the guttering flame into the stalks, the dry corn catching alight quickly.

Soon, the entire night sky behind Azfelyndoran was tinged red-orange as the villagers hurried to salvage what was left of their lives and livelihoods. The elf smirked as he stalked back to the cool, comforting darkness of the trees.

Three days later, Claudia held up a hand. "Wait a moment."

Azfelyndoran turned. "My lady, no disrespect intended, but we do not have time."

"This won't take long."

Azfelyndoran opened his mouth to protest, but Famratyr jabbed an elbow into the elf's side. "You got your detour, let her take one too." Azfelyndoran sucked in a breath, stalked ten paces up the road, and sat down on a boulder next to the worn dirt trail.

Claudia turned back to the rolling farm country and took a deep breath. "Goodbye, Sybalia! No matter where I end up, you'll always be home to me! I promise I'll come back someday!" Then, she turned and continued on her way, across the Sybalian border and into her uncertain future.

The country around Sybalia was quite untamed, with the carefully tended farmland and gentle rolling hills quickly giving way to deep forests. Famratyr and Azfelyndoran were in their element, leading Claudia well away from established trails and onto deer paths that twisted through wooded glens. The air grew warmer as they progressed onward; skirting the borders of the neighboring lands so as not to be apprehended by any garrisoned soldiers. As they made their way along a river one day, Claudia noted that Azfelyndoran was picking up long, straight sticks and sticking them in his quiver.

"Where did you learn to shoot so well?" she asked him.

Azfelyndoran stripped the off-shooting twigs off a branch. "From infancy, all of the elves in Andothasariel are trained in archery. Even before we can wield magic, we must learn to draw a bow. So, I learned to shoot, as you put it, 'so well' many years ago. Perhaps a lifetime, as you humans would reckon it."

"But how can that be?"

"Whatever do you mean, Lady Claudia?"

"The Patron told me that nothing lives forever."

"Elves do not live forever," Azfelyndoran replied. "Though we do live much longer than a human would. At least three times longer."

"How old are you, Azfelyndoran?"

The elf shrugged. "We do not keep time in the same way you do. I have been named for one hundred and thirty four years, but I was born about a decade before that. The elves do not mark births."

"Why don't your parents name you when you're born? That's what human parents do."

Azfelyndoran shrugged. "We do not know our parents, at least not as children. Elves do not marry as humans do, nor do we have the same concept of family. Your city or village is your family, and the children are raised by the community. Elf children live together with a tutor until such a time has passed that we learn to read and write fluently, and then we are given our names."

"That must be awful, not knowing who your mother and father are!"

The dark elf shook his head. "It may seem that way to you, my lady. But to the elves, we have never known another way. There are no laws prohibiting an elf from seeking out their birth parents. Some of my people do just that. But as for me? No, I never took the time."

The young woman could only shake her head. "But what if your mother is out there somewhere, waiting for a day when her son comes to find her?"

"Then she will have to wait a while longer," Azfelyndoran replied sharply. "I have more pressing concerns. Besides, my tutor was more than I could ever ask for in a father. He taught me all I know of magic, archery, woodcraft and art. He read to me when I was too young to understand the writing, and guided me when I began to learn. In time, I believe he actually came to care for me, and I grew to care for him."

"Well, that's something at least. Does he still live in Andothasariel? Will he be able to help us?"

"He is dead, my lady. In the early years of the war."

"Oh! I'm sorry…"

"Do not be. He made his choice." Azfelyndoran inclined his head and moved several paces off, ostensibly to gather more branches for his quiver, but Claudia could tell that he wished to end the conversation. She left him in peace, deciding not to press on what was clearly a sore subject, even decades after the fact. It seemed that since the elves lived far longer than humans, they carried their grudges and slights for longer as well.