Stormfyre Chapter Eighteen

  Hello and welcome to the halfway point of Stormfyre. Yes, chapter eighteen marks the mid point of my first foray into fantasy, and I hope you have enjoyed the ride thus far.  I hope you enjoy the latter portion, and God bless! Yours in Christ, Ian T Curtis.        

Stormfyre Chapter Seventeen

            Their host's name was Blain Crestworn, a former fisherman from Twin Port. He had lived most of his life on the sea, running nets behind the sleek sailing vessels that he commanded, taking in shallow fish for the market. That had been his lively hood, having spent better then forty years on the ocean to the south, making runs north in the summer months and going far beyond the boundaries of Umbriel when the chill of winter made fishing more slim. He retired from the port life three years ago, living the life of solitude that he always wanted for himself. He had never married, telling the young men that women were a blessing that could ruin their lives, laughing heartily after he told them.

Gillian's Story, Part One, Act 4

Act Four: The Empire Strikes Back Really Hard!

            Now that the princess and the sword wielding peasant found the yellow block road they followed it, singing and skipping all the way. Their voices rang gaily through the land until they stopped and looked at each other. “What in the world possessed me to sing like such an idiot, I wonder?” the princess said. “I don’t know, but those are some fetching slippers you have on. Are those ruby?” The princess looked down at her feet and grinned girlishly. “No, I just painted my feet that color so I’d never have to wear shoes! Everyone’s fooled by them.” “Wow,” the peasant said, “That’s incredible. You must be a super genius.” The princess blushed. “I did attend Harvard.”

Gillian's Story, Part One, Act 3

Act Three: The Saga Continues!

            As the princess and her party traveled to the next village, which was far, far away, she received an impromptu haircut from the sword wielding peasant, who hacked it off to her shoulders. “Oh thank you!” the princess exclaimed happily, “all of those woodland animals living in my hair was really beginning to hurt my scalp! It was like being back in the Shining Castle and having my mother dragging me up and down the stairs by it all over again!” The sword wielding peasant looked horrified. “Why did she do that?” The princess was suddenly confused. “I’m not certain. I’ll have to ask her when I go home. By the way, you are really good with your sword. The way you chopped my hair without accidentally cutting my ears off, and the way you threatened that poor old woman who wasn’t armed. That was so macho!” The peasant puffed up with manly pride, “I told you I was good.” “Why don’t you put that thing down and hold me?” the princess asked. “Because I can’t. I’ve carried it so long that I can’t let go of it anymore. It makes for a real pain when I’m eating, or trying to take baths. So I gave them up.”

            Just then they came to a fork in the road. Sven picked it up and put it in his pocket. (No one knew that Sven was secretly a kleptomaniac. He already had all of their money and jewelry in his pockets.) The princess stood beside the sword wielding peasant in confusion, looking both ways. “Which way shall we go?” she asked. One way was cheerful and happy, with a shining sun and green fields where doves flew and fruit trees bloomed. The other way was barren and dead, with bent trees and scorched grass, and a riverbed that had dried up, revealing the bones of former travelers at the bottom. “I’m not sure,” the sword wielding peasant answered. “I don’t remember how to get to Happily Ever After any more. Too bad there isn’t someone we might ask.”

            Just then they heard, “There is someone.” They looked both ways again and saw no one. They looked back at Sven, but he was busy stealing cookies from a troop of passing girl scouts. “Who said that?” the princess demanded. “I’ll know who’s speaking to the princess of Shining Castle!” Then they saw a scarecrow on a pole at the divide of the road. “I said that,” he told them. “Would you do me a favor and let me down?” he asked. “I got stuck here by my fellow fraternity members, who thought it would be funny to hang me here and dress me like a scarecrow.” The sword wielding peasant raised his sword up. “I think the scarecrow is talking to us,” he said. The princess looked angrily at him. “Scarecrows can’t speak. Now where are you, stranger? Why do you throw your voice like that? Although I must admit I’m rather impressed by it.” The scarecrow sighed. “I spoke! I’m stuck here! Will you let me down?” The princess shook her head. “If you won’t answer, then I’m afraid we must leave. Come Sven! We’re going to travel down the really dark and scary road.”

            Just then the royal guard arrived. They all drew their swords and surrounded the three of them. (Sven had already stolen one of their swords.) “You knave! Release the princess to us or we’ll beat you up!” they declared. The sword wielding peasant bravely stepped forward. “I confess: Sven here kidnapped her and made me carry his weapon for him. He’s a criminal mastermind and you must arrest him at once!” So they did, and they rode down the highway with Sven, completely forgetting why they had come to begin with. “Quickly, while they’re harming our innocent traveling companion, let’s get out of here!” the sword wielding peasant stated. “That was very brave of you to squeal on Sven like a little girl,” the princess admitted, and the peasant blushed. “Now, let us follow the yellow block road to Happily Ever After!” And so they linked arms and skipped away, singing out of tune. The scarecrow/fraternity brother looked after them and sighed again. “Will someone let me down from here? I have to pee!” To be continued…?

An Interview with Living Stones

I just had the pleasure of being the recipient of an interview with Michelle from Living Stones News: a Christian newspaper based right here in Duluth, Minnesota. She came by my house and we chatted for about an hour about my conversion, my prodigal wanderings, my return to Christ my Lord, and the conception of Andurun.

It was an interesting experience to be sure. It was my third interview in all; the first being a youtube interview with David Beauieu, followed by an online interview with Glynn Young of Faith, Fiction, Friends. It is wonderful to be able to share my witness for Jesus Christ and my own long walk as I returned to my faith and using this God-given gift for something that glorifies the God who first gave it to me.

The interview will be available this September in Living Stones News, and I will post links on my facebook account and on my website for anyone who wants to read it. FYI: this site, as of the end of this month, will cease being my primary site for posting tidbits on Andurun and my other writngs and I will be moving entirely to Andurun.com, my new website. I invite you to join me there. I'll post more about the article when I know of its arrival. God bless!

Gillian's Story, Part One, Act 2

Act Two: The Sequel

            As the royal guard went galloping out of the Shining Castle the princess was busy looking for work still. She had the distinct impression that no one would hire her at the village, so she was forced to move on to another village, aptly named Next Village. Next Village was a prosperous place that was filled with happy people, but they were plagued by the evil queen of Castle Neverknow, and lived in fear of when she came to their village.

            Now it happened to be that the princess and Queen Neverknow came to Next Village at the same time. The princess was covered in mud still, and her long, long hair had been dragging in the dirt since the last village, so small woodland animals began to nest in it, since all woodland animals loved princesses, no matter what princess it was. It was very heavy to drag with, so she was tired and irritated by the time she entered the village and found Queen Neverknow harassing old people and stealing children’s shoes. Irate, the princess stormed over to the evil queen, woodland animals and all, and demanded to know what she was doing. The queen took one look at her and huffed, “Who are you to demand to know what I’m doing?” The princess said, “I am the princess of the Shining Castle, and these are my people!” the queen looked horrified. “Look at you! The rumors about your parents being broke to pay their light bill must be true. They can’t even afford clean clothes or bath water for you! You aren’t even worth kidnapping for ransom! I’m sure the electric company has already thought of that, anyhow.”

            The princess sneered at the evil queen. “What is your name, if you don’t mind?” The queen told her, “I am the queen of Castle Neverknow.” And when she said it lightning forked in the sky, and small animals scampered off in terror, including the ones that had been nesting in the princess’s hair, to which she was grateful. “Why is your castle named Neverknow?” she inquired. “Because you’ll never know! Wa ha ha ha ha!” The queen threw back her head in laughter for many, many minutes, as if expecting the scene to fade to black before she was finished. When it did not, she looked around in mild confusion and shrugged her shoulders. The princess, who had been patiently waiting for the queen to finish her evil laughter, folded her arms across her chest and said, “That was stupid. Did you ever finish high school?” The evil queen squealed in anger. “How dare you accuse me of not graduating high school! I received a diploma and it was a happy day for me, long before you were ever born! Why, I was the girl with perfect attendance! I suppose you finished high school?” The princess scoffed. “I went to Harvard, I’ll have you know.” The evil queen’s eyes lit up, and she rubbed her hands together. “Perhaps you are worth ransoming, after all!”

            The princess became suddenly afraid and backed away from the evil queen, who was ready to seize her. All at once, a handsome young man leapt between them, sword drawn. “Stand away, Queen Neverknow!” he declared, “I have been training with this sword since I was three years old, and have never had a job or a girlfriend, so I am very dangerous with it, believe me!” The evil queen stepped back. “Why are you interfering, peasant?” The young man scratched his head as he tried to puzzle out the answer. “I’m not certain,” he said at last, “but like small woodland animals that love princesses, I am the obligatory handsome, sword wielding young man that is here to rescue her in the nick of time, so we may elope, and have many, many children.”

            “You have won this time, fools, but I will return, and I will bring the magical mice that you set free princess, for they wish revenge on you now! Wa ha ha ha ha!” With that the evil queen vanished, literally, and everyone was safe. “You’re my hero,” the princess told the young man as she stared into his eyes. “Where shall we go now?” “The land of Happily Ever After,” he replied. “That is where I must take you now. You will be happy, and your parent’s light bill will be paid for. But we must make haste before the royal guards or Queen Neverknow return to thwart us.” And so they went, the young man, the princess, her animal friends, and some mute guy named Sven that just followed after them for some reason. To be continued…?

Gillian's Story, Part One, Act 1

For your reading pleasure, and to honor the month of my wife's birth, I am going to share a story I wrote for her before we began dating. It is not my usual fare by any means so be warned. It is my attempt to try out comedy by mocking fairy tales. There are now four such stories in existence, and if no one minds I will share them one by one for the reader's pleasure. Again, you have been warned; this was a deliberate effort to be nonsensical and whimsical. There is no sobriety beyond this point...

Act One: Gillian’s story

            Once upon a time in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a radiant princess in a shining castle. She was college educated and very sensible, and often wondered why her castle shined all the time and no other building anywhere in her kingdom did. Secretly she feared that her parents made the castle shine because they were afraid of the dark, so without thinking twice on the matter she went out to find a job so she could help support her parent’s light bill. It had to be a huge light bill to keep an entire castle shining day and night seven days a week.

            Anyhow, the princess woke up one morning, had her bubble bath, pony ride and consultation with her magic mirror (which always had an image of Fabio waving his hair about when it spoke) and set off to the village. When she entered a shop the owners would beg her not to have her father behead them or raise their taxes, which she thought was bizarre. And she couldn’t get within one hundred feet of someone without them falling to their knees and bowing before her. It was awfully sad because people working in high places would do this as well, and then they would slide off their roof and break something vital, and they would make the most vexing noise.

            So finally she stopped someone from bowing and asked how they knew her for royalty. The peasant replied, “My lady, I am a simple beggar, clad in street raiment and covered in filth, but you are perfumed and clean, clad in fine silk and shimmering pearls, with teeth that are very white and hair that is so long that it takes four grown men to carry it for you. Your gown trails through the street thirty feet in your wake, and magical scampering mice are everywhere, chewing on fruit and food, and small children when they’re sleeping, which is highly unsettling. Plus you have a large, fat man blowing a trumpet and declaring who you are before you enter a shop or residence, so it is easy to discern your identity.” The princess considered these words, and relied heavily on her aforementioned college education to deduce an answer.

            Firstly, she set free her mice, who magically scampered away and devoured all the crops in the village, creating a minor blight. Then she had her trumpet man put to death for announcing her presence to everyone. Finally, she found a nice, cool mud hole to jump in, and became utterly filthy. This, she surmised, was an excellent way to escape notice. She then entered another shop, and the owners within were taken aback by her. “My lady!” one mane screamed in alarm, “what in heaven happened to you? Why are you clad in silk and shimmering pearls, smelling of fine perfume and dripping from head to toe in mud?” They looked past the princess, to the men still carrying her hair for her, and became irate. “Fiends!” they cried, “You dare drag this young woman of proper breeding through the mud by her hair? Stone them!” And without further ado they were chased out of the village by an angry, torch wielding mob of peasants. In the meantime the princess continued her hunt for employment.

            Meanwhile, back at the castle, the king and queen, half blind from years of living in a shining castle, began to wonder where their daughter had gone off to. The king fetched his guards, and asked if they knew of her presence, and the men informed the good king that she went to the village to find a job. “My daughter is getting a job?” the king asked. “I told you that sending her to Harvard was a bad idea!” the queen ranted at him, “Now she’s going to be filthy rich and have life experiences! What self-respecting prince will ever marry her?” The king became very angry and commanded his guards to find her at once. “My daughter will not have any life experiences if I can help it! Guards! Bring her back, along with her magical mice, trumpet man and four hair carriers! Do not fail me!” The guards departed, on their quest to find the missing, tomboy princess…to be continued…?

Stormfyre Chapter Sixteen

            "You there!" one of the garrison shouted, making the crowd of people stir and turn to see what was happening, "The six of you! In the name of the Blazing Sword, I demand that you accompany us to the constable's station!"

            "What seems to be the problem, sir?" Cameron questioned, trying to look concerned about what was going on while he thought hard about the quickest way out of the place.

            "Just come with now and there won't be any trouble! You are wanted for some routine questioning about a matter that happened earlier this morning!" The garrison crept in, hands falling to the blades they had strapped at their sides. Cameron cursed himself for leaving his blade on Starn when he felt a tug at the back of his armor. Something was being pressed into the small of his back. He reached back and found the handle of a dagger there, Ferrin's thin hand holding it. Cameron took it by the handle and tucked it into his belt. He didn't know if he could fight three men with a dagger but he could try. At the least he would by them enough time for the rest of them to get out of the eatery and to their horses.

            "We don't want to cause any trouble, sirs! But I would like to know why you're ready to draw steel on us if we're only wanted for questioning?"

            "Silence!" one of the men shouted at him. People started to run from the eatery, clearing the tables all around them in a rush to be away from the scene. Cameron was guessing that if he was going to make his move then it would have to be now. Grabbing the hilt of the dagger he got ready to leap at the first of the garrison.

            "You men, what in the name of the One are you doing?" came a commanding voice from the front of the eatery. Cameron looked up to see Morrigan standing there, a look of sublime anger etched onto her face. It was the look of discovery, when you found out that people you thought could be trusted could be bought out. Her men turned fast on their heels, a look of panic on their faces, thinking hard to explain the situation.

            "Constable, we have reason to believe that these people were connected to the poachers that we had been hunting for the last week. We were bringing them into the station to question."

            "They are connected to the poachers, in a way. When I was attacked on the eastern road it was these people that aided me. If not for them I would be dead as surely as the others were killed. Is that, then a crime that you come into the eatery with swords and frighten away the patrons?"

            "No, constable, we...we apologize for our brash behavior. It won't happen again," The men skulked by her, each giving Cameron a burning stare before he left. When it was just them in the eatery she approached them.

            "It seems that you were right, Cameron. I'm sorry that I didn't believe you. I suggest that you leave here quickly, just to avoid any more problems."

            "I'm sorry for putting you in this compromising position," Cameron told her, "This could make problems for you."

            "I've been in trouble for standing up for what I believe is right before. This time is no different. Now you better get out of here while you can." Morrigan led them out of the eatery and to the stables on the side of the building where their horses were waiting. The rain had become little more than a warm sprinkle sheeting the sky, coloring rainbows as the sun touched the mist near the ground.

            Cameron led Starn from the stable and scanned the road ahead. It was clear, with few people on it. The road to the village square was open, which meant they could leave Grenfall without being stuck behind any merchant wagons or peddlers. When everyone was mounted on their horses Cameron gave Ferrin the lead, telling the youth to keep a sharp eye out. Ferrin nodded, snapping the reigns but Cameron held him fast. He handed the dagger that Ferrin gave him back over, smiling at the youth.

            Thank you. he signed, patting him on the back.

            How did I know that you wouldn't say that out loud? Ferrin signed back and Cameron laughed, throwing his head back and letting the mist fall over him. Had he really thought what he did in that eatery? He was ready to die in battle just to buy those children time to escape. He was being paid to do all he could, but did that mean throwing his life away in the face of suicidal odds? His thoughts were interrupted by Morrigan riding up beside him.

            "So, what are these children to you, warrior?"

            "I'm not exactly sure anymore," Cameron replied, chuckling more at himself than anything else.

            "Do you plan on passing through Grenfall again in the near future? Perhaps alone this time?" Cameron turned to face her, reaching out a hand and smoothing back her dark blond hair from her forehead.

            "I think I might have to take you up on that offer next time I'm near Grenfall."

            "Take care of yourself, Cameron Reol."

            "I have to, no one else has volunteered for the job," he remarked, snapping his reigns and hastening to catch up with the others. Morrigan watched him ride off, trailing after the rest of his party. She gathered there was a lot more to their passing then Cameron was letting on, but she thought he must have good reason for staying silent about the man pursuing them. Thinking ahead to what the future may hold, Morrigan Icewind rode north in the village back to the constable's station and back to her duty.

            The woods were his to move through, as much a part of him as his arms or legs. The wind was his breath; the earth, his feet and the sweet rain from the skies his taste, making him feel more alive than anything the world of humans had to offer. Still, there was the call, from the distance. He knew the humans needed him once more. He perched in the boughs of a low limbed tree, a nest of birds off his right side, listening to the rhythm of the rainfall. It was close to letting up, the wind told him, but there would be more coming, fresher even than this, in another passing of the sun. Verion smiled at the sky and sun beamed down on him through the clouds. Breathing deeply, filled with regret for having to forsake the forest again, he leapt from the branch and sped through the woods.

            He was out of the woodland in a dozen seconds, running with swift strides along the grasslands that spanned the length of the coast from the mountains to the bay city. He bounded over a hill, leaping at the grassy peak, and clearing a narrow pass that was below him. He landed on the base of the hill opposite the pass. The men were in the pass, making a straight line for the bay city. He knew that the time for stalling was long done. There was no way to misguide them in the grasslands. Not even humans were that stupid, though he found that hard to believe. He walked out in front of the party, ahead of the pass, and saw open anger on their faces. Drawn Faleem dropped from his horse and made his way over to him. Verion could read the man plainly; he was going to do what all humans did when anger conquered their better judgment. Drawn drew back his hand and struck him across the face with his fist. Verion allowed his head to crane to one side. The sting of the punch was already gone. Verion felt like laughing at him but thought it unwise to press the matter until he discovered what Drawn was angry about.

            "Damned centiant! You played us, me, for fools!"

            "And you made it so easy, second commander. I'm surprised that you caught on at all."

            Drawn punched him again, pulling his fist back and taking him square on the jaw. This time Verion didn't bother to move his head. Drawn pulled his hand back, nursing it gingerly. Verion smiled at him, folding his hands behind his back.

            "Would you like me to strike myself?" Verion queried much to Drawn's anger.

            "Shut up! Do you know what this is?" he unfurled a scroll that he had tucked behind his back. His hands were visibly shaking with anger.

            "I assume that you’re going to tell me."

            "This is a scroll from the king's scribe! Southcross has fallen, and I've been wasting my time out here searching for these whelps! I could've been part of that! And then I find out that you have been delaying us purposely! The king won't allow me to return until I've taken care of the task he sent me out here for!"

            "Sounds like this is your problem, not mine, second commander."

            "Oh, it’s your problem. You're leading us straight to them. I want you to bring us right to these children the king wants with all the speed you can. Find them; find them so I can finish this!"

            Verion left in silence, knowing that this was an order he had no choice but to obey. He remembered what he swore to his brother, how this was his last mission from that king, no matter how it turned out. He didn't want to die, not without seeing Tiar at least once more, but he would not give the king what he wanted. Never what he wanted. Verion pondered this as he delved back into the forest, on a straight path for the road he knew he would find them at. He would leave markers the humans could follow, and, spirits help him, he would give the sub commander what he wanted.

            A day and another passed as the party rode from Grenfall steadily south. The land became hilly, bringing them lower and lower with each passing turn to sea level. The forest dissolved into plains, broad and filled with thick patches of grass. Cameron allowed only a small fire those nights, saying that he didn't want to let off any signals to pursuers. Cameron continued to practice with the three of them, Kamil suddenly developing a keen interest in fighting. Kirstin still threw herself into the lessons, but didn't possess the enthusiasm that she did before the battle near Grenfall. Damien was careful in changing their bandages, cleaning the injured area. Kirstin watched this as well, learning from Damien how to properly dress a wound. The priest was startled to find another wound on Kamil's arm, one that was red and infected.

            "Where did you get this?" Damien asked him, patting the cut with a damp cloth. Kamil shrugged as if he wasn't interested.

            "I scraped myself on a tangle bush when I was in the forest. It's nothing bad."

            "It’s infected, Kamil. You should take care to clean it well and dress it."

            Ferrin leaned over the father's shoulder and caught a scent of the wound, recoiling from what was there. It was the scent of old death, long ago decayed but pungent regardless of its age. Ferrin sniffed again to get fresh air into his nostrils, looking back over at Kamil with a worried look. Benmont also had that same look as he examined the scrape on Kamil's arm. His mother told him that one of them was in grave danger. Kamil had an unexplained cut on his arm. Was it poisoned? Benmont stood away from them, slipping his shirt back on over his head.

            "What's wrong, Grim? Oh, I mean Benmont," Kirstin asked, putting a hand on Benmont's forearm. He shied from her touch some, but wasn't rude enough to push her away from him. He beat down his initial irritation at being called Grim, knowing that if he grew angry that would give her more reason to call him that.

            "I'm tired," Benmont said lamely, "I just need some sleep, is all." She nodded with understanding and watched him take his place by the fire, pulling a travel blanket over his considerable form.

            Damien informed Cameron that he wanted the first watch; that he wasn't ready to sleep yet. Cameron looked at him dubiously but said nothing. The morning found them on the road again. When the sun was at its highest Cameron stopped at the edge of the road, his eyes scanning the plains for as far as he could see. Damien rode up beside him, the dark rings under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

            "Did you sleep at all, father?"

            "I slept some. Why are we stopping, Cameron?"

            "There's something wrong, I can feel it. Last time I had this feeling the Telba house was attacked. One of my wards was killed. I'm following this feeling this time. We break into the field and ride due west again, at least for a day. Father, I want you to lead and everyone to follow the path you make single file. I will follow and cover the trail from behind."

            "And you spoke about me being paranoid, my friend," Damien mused.

            "I know how it sounds but that's how we’re going to play it. I would rather be safe than sorry at this point. Agreed father?"

            "Agreed," Damien nodded, breaking in a straight path through the plains. Kirstin follow him and Kamil after her. Benmont gave Cameron a puzzled look before taking the trail single file after Kamil. Cameron followed in after gathering together a large clump of weeds from the opposite side of the road. He used them to sweep over the trail and prompt the weeds to come back up after being trampled by horse hooves.

            The entire day went that way, travelling in single file, their bodies growing sore from the roughest ride since they left the mountain pass. By late afternoon when the sun had nearly set they found a small lake nestled in a deep valley. Cameron told them that they could bed down for the night here and they were quick to dismount. Kirstin strayed from the group, saying that she needed a bath desperately. It turned out that they all did. Ferrin sat on the bank of the lake, content to lay back in the soft grass and soil and enjoy the smell of the open air. He heard a loud splash just beside him and sat up to find Benmont standing there, grinning broadly at him. Ferrin smiled sheepishly and broke to run. Benmont caught hold of him, lifting the squirming youth over his head and tossing him into the lake with a resounding splash.

            Ferrin popped up, hair covering half his face, spitting water out of his mouth. Kamil burst out laughing, falling back in the water, pointing at Ferrin but unable to say anything through his laughs. Benmont waded back into the water, staring coolly at Ferrin.

            "I thought that you might appreciate the gesture," he told him. Ferrin scowled and crawled out of the water back onto the bank, clothes dripping wet. Ferrin spun around and matched Benmont's gaze, slapping his chin and waving his hand out before him open palmed. It was crude slang for telling someone that they thought that person was something less than the spittle in a cow’s mouth. Benmont went slack jawed, livid at the gesture. Kamil doubled over again with laughter, trying hard not to fall right over into the water.

            "You little mongrel!" Benmont growled, storming right out of water for him, hands outstretched to grab his neck. Ferrin bowed low, complete with a sweeping arm, and turned tail for the camp site with a naked Benmont giving chase. Kamil watched them go until he could only see their silhouettes against the back drop of the flames, imagining everyone's surprise when they watched Benmont come charging in stark naked. He splashed for the edge of the shore, deciding that he wanted a much better view.

            "Kamil," came Sara's disembodied voice from behind him, "Kamil, stay for a while and talk with me. Please."

           

The next morning the party rode swiftly, a strong wind at their backs, blowing across the vast openness of the plains that was all around them. The air was chill, even without the wind to aid it, marking the end of summer's passing. Cameron reined Starn to the top of a hill, pausing when he reached the top, as he spied a watering hole surrounded by a dense cluster of trees. He held his arm straight out in a silent motion for them to stop. He could hear the sound of Damien's horse come up beside his own. The father scanned the grove, running a free hand through the tangle of his beard.

            "Why do we not move down there? Wouldn't that be the ideal place to refill the water skins?"

            "It would be, but that has to be something's watering hole and I don't care for the idea of sneaking over and startling any animal that might be there," Ferrin reached over from where he sat on the back of the good father's horse and tugged the edge of Cameron's leathers. He pointed behind them and scented the wind. Cameron swore softly and ran his hand over his face.

            "You're right. If there is an animal down there, it knows we're here already."

            "How would it know that?" Damien questioned, scanning the terrain ahead for some sign of it.    

            "We're up wind of it. Anything that's in there had our scent a long time ago. I suppose we might as well go to the watering hole. If we're lucky, then anything there doesn't have any liking for human flesh." Cameron told everyone to ride closely together as they made their way for the grove of trees. A powerful wind struck them, blowing through their hair, making their coats rustle with its force. On the wind came a distinct growl from inside the grove, hidden in the shade of the trees and tall grass. Cameron was quick off his saddle, taking his shield off the side and drawing out his sword. Ferrin also dismounted, creeping low to the ground, teeth bared as he stalked forward in silence.

            The growl came again, this time stronger as a furred shape slunk among the shadows, a long, twitching tail swishing behind it. The beast broke from the clearing of the high grass around the trees and stood there in the sunlight, fangs bared. It was nearly five feet at the front shoulders, with shorter but stockier back legs that gave way to a tail as long as its nine foot body was. A thick pelt of grey hair covered it, growing thickest at the beast's shoulders where tufts of it sprang out in locks. The animal had a short, rounded muzzle with needle like teeth that protruded from its gums. The deep colored eyes were hidden further in the skull, sunk on the sides. Wide nostrils flared from above the fangs as the beast caught their scent, savored it. It let out a deafening roar, craning its head to the sky and shaking its mane back and forth.

            Ferrin crept closer to the beast, hissing like an animal himself, baring the dagger he had tucked in the back of his belt loop. The animal turned to face Ferrin, lowering its center of gravity and charged him. The speed that it possessed was incredible, it strode out of Cameron's reach before he could get four paces toward it. Ferrin hissed again and crouched even lower to the ground, waiting. The beast leapt for him, long hooked claws raking for him from the front of its paws. Ferrin rolled out of the way with a swiftness that nearly rivaled the beast's and threw the dagger for all it was worth, embedding it into its side. The animal howled rage, turning to face the now weaponless Ferrin, fangs dripping with saliva as it stalked toward him. Cameron raced to catch up, but failed to make it in time for the animal's second attack. It charged him, mouth open wide to take his throat. Ferrin leapt up and over the beast, spinning head over heels and landing cleanly on the other side of the animal. It stopped its futile charge and turned to face him again. This time Cameron was there to face it. He interposed himself between Ferrin and the beast, blade at the ready, shield before him. The beast roared frustration and charged for them, head lowered as if to ram them. Cameron lowered himself and readied to roll away from the attack.

            His face was stunned surprise when it leapt clear over him and Ferrin, landing better than thirty feet from where it originated its leap. He rushed to catch up but the beast was faster, charging for the trio of mounted targets that the children presented. Benmont nearly fell from his horse in an attempt to dismount, pulling free the short sword that was belted at his side. Kamil was down in a single, graceful leap, putting the sword two handed before him, fear racing in his blood. Kirstin dropped off and slapped her horse away from her. The animal fixed on her, bearing down with incredible speed. She lowered her center of gravity as Cameron taught her to, trying to control the fear that she felt building in her. The animal roared once before reaching her, taking to the air and swiping for her. Kirstin, letting out a strangled yelp, slashed with her blade in a cross arc, catching the beast by the claws and staying its killing stroke. She tumbled onto her side from the force of the blow, eyes wide as it spun around fast to finish her before she could stand.

            Then Benmont was standing over her, sword at the ready, smile plastered on his face. The beast lowered down and readied for another pounce, eyes fixed on the large man that just took the kill from it. Benmont swiped air before him, challenging it to try its luck.

            "Come on!" he shouted at it, "Come and show me! Come on!" he screamed at the animal, his voice going hoarse as it tore free from his throat. The beast drew closer, trails of saliva flowing from its mouth. Kamil drew up behind the beast and lunged in, striking its haunch with the edge of his blade. The beast screeched from the shock of the attack and leapt away. The dark grey of its pelt was becoming deep red along its back leg, soaking the fur through. Kirstin stood up with Benmont's help, putting an arm around him for support as she fought to control her breathing. Benmont watched the animal close in, swaying from one side to the next. When it got close enough it stopped moving and lowered itself, extending its tail to the fullest. They watched with shocked fear as the tail split straight down the middle, peeling into four separate pieces, strands of yellow ooze slopping out from the connection of all four tails. The four thinner, almost blade like tails shook in the air like rattles and the beast let out another roar. It ran for them and the other two broke and fled, save for Benmont. He stood fast and waited for the beast, his eyes aglow with rage.

            The animal leapt fast, claws out. Benmont rolled under the beast and raked the belly with the length of the short sword, drawing another welling line of blood. The beast dropped down just ahead of him as Benmont stood, raising his blade fast to strike another blow. His stroke was cut short by two of the tails that the beast had, one of them swiping and hitting him in the stomach. He doubled over with a wheeze from the force of the blow, dropping the short sword in the process. The second tail struck upward, hitting him on the chin and plucking him off the ground. Benmont flew backward, pin wheeling from the assault. He landed hard on his back, the air leaving him in a rush of pain. Rolling head over heels once, Benmont looked up in time to see the beast close in for a killing bite, one that would likely tear his head off. Gathering all the strength he had left in him, Benmont doubled up and punched the beast in the side of the head. It reeled back and nearly fell over, shaking its head to clear it. Growling lowly, it moved in on its prey, relishing the kill. It squealed in pain as a sword found its mark on the side of it, cutting deep across ribs. It back peddled and allowed its tails to attack. Cameron blocked the first with the shield he carried, letting it glance from the side of it. Another he ducked under, crouching low and waiting for it to strike again. The third swipe came for his legs and he leapt forward and rolled on his shoulder, stabbing straight out with the blade for the beast's face. It tried to dodge the attack but the tip found its mark on its shoulder, burying deep. Cameron drove the blade home; pushing the steel in as far as he could make it go.

            It struggled, falling back and reaching off its sides with its tails. Cameron felt one of them circle his waist, tugging at him in desperation. He held fast, pushing the hilt of the sword deeper until it would go no further. Kamil came running over, blade held high over his head, screaming words that only he understood. He remembered the promise he made. No more cowardice. Gathering his courage, Kamil plowed right into the side of the beast and chopped down on the base of its neck, nearly severing it in a single blow. A rush of blood like a flood showered his boots and Kamil stepped back, growing pale. Cameron used his shield to wrench the tail off of him and stepped back as the creature topple over, giving one last rasping breath before it died.

            Planting his blade in the ground, he made his way over to Benmont, who lay on the ground, curled into a tight ball. The youth's eyes met Cameron's and he smiled at him weakly. Cameron ruffled his hair and shook his head at him.

            "You are a lunatic."

            Damien was there quickly after, dropping to his knees and looking over the extent of Benmont's wounds. The priest looked grimly at Cameron, "I think that several of his ribs may be broken. That was foolish of him."

            "Brow beat him later, father. Is there anything you can do for him right now?"

            "I...I will attempt to use the strength of the One God to heal him." 

            "Heal him? You're going to cast a spell on him?"

            "The power of the One is not magic, Cameron! It comes from the One God through those who hold their steadfast faith in him! Magic is a gift of the dark, given to the saevant by the spirits of the land. Any priest of proper schooling knows this, as should a man that claims to be as travelled as you are, warrior."

            "I didn't mean to offend you, father. You know what I think of the One God and his miracles. Work your magic on him, father. We need to continue quickly. Staying here will bring us more attention then we want." Damien ignored him, knowing that they were too far from the highway to have to worry about travelers finding them. Closing his eyes he concentrated only on Benmont, feeling the youth squirming on the ground below him.

            "My Lord, your humble servant calls to you. I humbly beseech you to heal this man, a faithful servant of the One, who is in need of your divine strength. I ask of you, allow me to heal him so that he may continue to fight in your name. Amen." A gentle wind surrounded the pair of them, ruffling their clothes, making their hair flap wildly around their faces. Damien's hands glowed with a soft white light, calming everyone that looked into it. The light seemed alive, wrapping about his flesh, almost like fire. Damien pressed both palms to Benmont's chest and allowed the light to pass from him. Benmont sighed with relief, his broad chest sagging from visible relief. Benmont cracked open a glittering green eye, a smile cracking his lips. Damien offered him a hand up and Benmont accepted, scrambling to his feet.

            "Thank you, father. I owe you."

            "No, my son, you owe me nothing. The One God chose to heal you, for there is more for you to accomplish. He is the one that deserves the thanks."

            "Let's get going. We can make Twin Port before the week is over if we make haste," Cameron prompted them back on their saddles. Damien sat holding his reigns fast, feeling feint from the power of the One flowing through him. He muttered a prayer of thanks to his God and snapped the reigns of his horse to follow after the rest of them. Kirstin hastened her horse to fall in time with Cameron's. She was still flushed from the battle, her hands shaking from the race of excitement that caught hold of her.

            "Cameron?" she began, trying to catch his attention, "What was that thing we just killed? I mean, did it have a name? I never thought that such an animal ever existed. It...it really frightened me."

            Cameron turned to face her, smiling, "Good. If it scared you then that's good. A warrior that holds no fear in him is a warrior that is destined to make mistakes. Most likely lethal ones."

            "So fear is a good thing?" Kirstin questioned. Cameron waved the question aside, shaking his head at her.

            "I'm not saying that. I'm saying that it can be a tool. It keeps you from doing foolish things that might get you killed. But there will be times when fear is a burden that must be cast aside. Times that you can't acknowledge fear because it becomes a chain rather than a tool, keeping you from doing what must be done."

            "What must be done? That doesn't make any sense? How will I know when I should use my fear as a tool and when it’s time to cast it aside? I don't understand."

            "You will, when the time comes for you to choose. Perhaps you'll be lucky and you never will have to make that choice."

            "Does the fear indicate a fear of the enemy, or a fear of what you know you can't accomplish?" Cameron looked at her from the corner of his eye, sighing heavily as she rode along aside him.

            "Has anyone told you that you ask a lot of questions, Kirstin?"

            "All the time," she replied, smiling brightly, "But you never answered my first question. What was that monster we fought in the field?"

            "That," Cameron said, leaning closer to her from his saddle, "was trouble. And if we don't ride fast we're bound to encounter another of them." Kirstin opened her mouth to ask another question but Cameron snapped his reigns and rode ahead, trailing over a hill top that loomed ahead of them. Kirstin watched him ride, her face thoughtful when the father cantered up beside her. Kirstin turned a touch pale when she saw him, licking her lips and hoping that he didn't notice her wandering eyes.

            "How are you child? Were you hurt by that creature?"

            "I'm fine, father. Maybe a little shaken, but that seems normal for the last several weeks. I still have to thank Benmont for helping me. If it weren't for him I might have been hurt. Or worse." She turned her gaze to Ferrin. The gangly youth had his hands at his sides, his over coat folded under him. She never noticed how scrawny Ferrin was until she saw him on the back of Damien's horse, short sleeve shirt giving way to pale arms that were smaller in width then hers even. Ferrin grinned at her, that infectious grin that demanded she return it. She nodded at him and laughed when he placed his hands on the haunch of the steed and rolled off it backward. When he landed on the ground he stopped and took a bow, stooping low to the ground and raising a hand out to his side. Kirstin put a hand to her mouth when she saw the father's Komin in his hand, dangling from the iron chain that it was suspended from.

            "Father Alohm," Kirstin began, biting her lip to keep from cracking a smile, "I have a question for you, if you don't mind."

            "Not at all, Kirstin. What is your question?"

            "It's about my brother," she told him, becoming somber all at once, "Father, do you think that Huros is happy where he is? I mean, can you tell me if he is happy, wherever he might happen to be?"

            "Huros is fine where he is, child. I hope that you don't feel guilt over his death. There would have been nothing you could have done, Kirstin. Huros died doing what he knew was right. The One uses people like that, to accomplish the greater good. I know Huros is well, child."

            "Thank you, father," Kirstin patted his hand. She let her hand trail to the hilt of her sword, where it sat sheathed on the back of her saddle, just behind her left hip, "That's why I'm doing this, you know."

            "Going to Cromley Tower? I thought you were going because your father wanted you to go."      

            "I don't mean the tower. The sword. Why I learn from Cameron. I want Huros to be proud of who I am and what I am doing with my life."

            "Kirstin, Huros will be proud of you no matter what it is you choose to do. There is no need to take up the sword to please him. That's a dangerous reason all of itself."

            "I want to learn, father. For myself just as much as for my brother."

            "And here I thought you were training with the man because you fancied him."

            "Father!" Kirstin gasped breathlessly, her face becoming an ugly shade of red as her jaw dropped.

            "I didn't mean to embarrass you, Kirstin, but I've seen the way you look at him from time to time. You may have feelings for him, Kirstin, or think you do, but he is a man that lives off the land, never settling. He has a wild heart. Not to mention the fact that he's almost old enough to be your father."

            "I fancy him, father, but as a friend. You jump to conclusions. I know what he's like. I got to know him very well when he was serving under my father. There's no need to worry over me." Despite her words, she thought she heard her voice waver with the priest's confrontation. Kirstin couldn't tell if he believed her words or not, he kept his emotion hidden behind that calm face.

            Cameron's voice startled all of them, and they looked up to see him calling to them from the top of the hill that he had ridden over. With the wave of an arm he beckoned them to join him on the hill top. When they were all at the peak with him they noticed a small thatch hut at the bottom of the sloping hill, a yellow light burning through a dirty window at the back. There was a crude, crooked wood shed built against the back of the hut, the door, not even hanging properly on the hinges. A thin trail of smoke crept from the brick chimney in the center of the roof, and there was an apple tree growing right beside the shack, its boughs nearly covering half the roof of the small structure.

            "The man living there is cooking supper and told me that he wouldn't mind having guests. We could sleep here as well. The man is old and I don't think that he's any kind of threat to us. Would any of you care to object to his hospitality?" It turned out that everyone didn't mind staying under a roof for a night rather than a mattress of earth under them. Cameron led them down the slope of the hill as an old man came out from a side door and waved enthusiastically to them, hand stretched far over head. By the time the setting sun came about only the horses were standing outside, the light from the shack shining out into the black as darkness cameover them.