Stormfyre Chapter 32

            Writing in the chronicles had always brought Liance peace before. As the historian and chronicler of the Chosen, he took his task very seriously. But it was a task that he could lose himself in. The history of Umbriel fascinated him, even as a child, before he knew what becoming one of the Chosen meant. But there was no pleasure in the ancient tomes that morning. Closing the old text on the table where he laid it out in the hall of the old library, he clutched at the bridge of his nose. There was a sharp pain there that had been bothering him for days now.

            Others of the Chosen were sitting at tables that filled the marble floors of the library. There was absolute silence hanging in the air, save for the occasional turning of a page or a muffled cough as one of the priests breathed in lingering dust. Liance made his way from the table he took at the center of the room toward a window. The twin panes of glass were wide open though it was delving into winter. There was never a harsh winter on Dynasty. Where the rest of the land would have snow covering it, there was only a cool, calm wind to mark that the seasons had even changed. Liance breathed in the fresh air, placing open palms on the sill. In the distance lightning filled a host of dark clouds to the south. Liance frowned. He couldn't remember ever seeing a storm gathering this close to the island during the winter season, and he had filled the chronicler's mantle for nearly fifty years.

            "Brother," a voice came from behind him, making him start. Liance turned from the window, keeping his robe from trailing on the ground with one hand. Another of the Chosen was standing before him, hands clasped at his waist. Harlequin waited without another word for the elder priest to greet him.

            "Brother," Liance said back, forcing a smile. Name of the One, how his head hurt.

            "The High Father wishes for your audience in his study above, brother. I have been sent to fetch you."

            "Thank you, Harlequin." The two priests walked side by side out of the library after Liance paused to slide his book back onto the shelf where it belonged. The outside halls were drafty, the windows outside also left open in the daylight to keep the musty smell of ancient stone from seeping too far into the air. A broad set of stairs stood off to the right of the hall they travelled along, twisting at a hundred paces where a landing of off white stone had been set in. Another hall spanned before them at the end of the second line of stairs, decorated with a wall sized painting of Gideon's Love. It was a constellation, shown in the shape of a man kneeling over, mourning the loss of all. Scholars told tales of the constellation, saying that Gideon was a great warrior, a holy man that roamed Umbriel over a thousand years ago. He had fallen from the grace of his God when the fame of his battles made him believe that he was righteous without the One. Disaster fell upon him; ruining the reputation he had won defending the word of the One. When his vision was clear to the sin that he had committed in the name of vanity he sought to clear his name. He was said to have been killed in battle defending the city of Diez from raiding hordes of demorn. The constellation had Gideon grieving for what he had lost in the eyes of the One. A loss that scholars told he never won back.

            Liance and Harlequin passed by the painting of the constellation without much thought, stopping only when they were outside the door to the High Father's study. Harlequin rapped loudly and pulled his hand away, waiting for a response.

            "Enter," came a voice from beyond the doors. Harlequin pushed the door open for the elder priest and waited until he entered before following. The High Father was sitting at his desk, trailing through a host of parchments that hid the top of the desk from sight. He bid them to sit with the wave of a hand.

            "What would you need of me, father," Liance asked as he sat back, glancing at a thin table on his side where several goblets and a pitcher of almost clear wine sat in plain view.

            "Please, drink if you would."

            "Thank you, father," Liance replied, taking up a goblet and pouring himself some of the wine. After he took a sip of it his face wrinkled and he swallowed hard. "A bitter vintage," he muttered.

            "That is what I thought as well," the High Father told him, "But I have never been fond of white wines. Liance, I had Brother Harlequin fetch you for a purpose other than sharing our tastes in wine. This concerns the king of Dagoth. As you know the retort that I sent to him when he made claim to the High Throne has not been met well."

            "So you have told us, father. The king has waged war for months now. I have been keeping notes on all that transpired so that it might not be forgotten should any after him dare to tread such a dark path as he."

            "There is more, brother. I believe that he is going to lay siege to the kingdom of Avalon."

            "Avalon? Because king Eaglesbane opposes him?" Liance asked.

            "Just so. I have heard from courier that the king has amassed an army that none have seen in hundreds of years. Perhaps not even then. I have also heard that he may launch vessels for Dynasty if the war in the north falls in his favor."

            "This is blasphemy!" Liance shouted, taking care to lower his voice when he realized that he had just raised his voice to the High Father, "He dare not. No man may think himself so righteous that he would storm the island of Dynasty like it was some enemy’s stronghold!"

            "We must prepare for this, brother. You and Brother Harlequin will spread word to the other Chosen that they must depart the island soon, for a time. I cannot risk having them here should battle arrive at our doorstep. Liance, you will stay here, as will I."

            "I would as well, father!" Harlequin added in, fighting the urge to stand with the emotion that he carried in him, "I am sure that our brothers will feel the same way! We cannot leave our home when crisis arrives and leave you to face it alone! What would the One think of us?"

            "This is the wisest course of action, brother," the High Father assured him in a calm tone. "There may be bloodshed when he comes; it seems to follow him like some dread disease. I fear that he is not as in control as he would think he is. You will be needed for the dark times that stand before us, Harlequin. You and the others. Never forsake this responsibility. A sailing ship will be waiting to take you to the city of Ohm far north of here, where the war will not come to. There you will wait for word to return to Dynasty."

            "But, father!" Harlequin began, halting when the elder priest held his hand aloft.

            "This is how it shall be, brother. I am High Father. I will expect you to listen to my words as wisdom from the One. I have prayed on this, seeking for him to answer the questions that plagued me."

            "I understand, father. I will gather the rest of my brothers now then, if you would, and tell them of this matter."

            "You may go. May the One God shine on you in all your ways."

            "And you, father," Harlequin replied before stepping out of the room. Liance had listened to the entire conversation without making comment; he found that he had very little to say. He also found that he had emptied that goblet of bitter wine, which surprised him just as much.

            "Father," he said at last, "Why would you have me here with you?"

            "You must tell of events as they come, my friend. Just as you said, history must know of this dark time so none fall so far as he. Liance, I fear that he is in league with another, even if he knows it not."

            "What do you suspect?" Liance asked.

            "I am not sure. I know dire times are coming. You may go, Liance. Find peace in this day and pray for the souls on all of Umbriel."

            "A good day to you, father," Liance offered before standing and leaving. He closed the door behind him, stopping to rub the bridge of his nose. His mind wandered, thinking of things to come. The One be with us, Liance thought grimly before he paced down the hall quickly, a cold draft chasing after him.

            Kamil Dravan came back into being only five miles from Hamla's southern border. The shock of having material form again made him so woozy that it was all he could do to keep from falling off of his saddle. Barren white land transformed, melted and shifted into a heavy forest that had a broad highway cutting a path through it. The winters in Hamla were never as harsh as the kind that the northerners faced. Little snow peppered the forest floor, making the trees sparkle brilliantly in the gentle wind.

            It even smelled like home, Kamil marveled as he drew in a deep breath. He didn't realized how much he missed home until he had ridden beside Benmont for a time and saw the village appear over the rise of a hill. There was farmland here, the fields barren after the harvest but the fences still stood to mark each man's land from the others, and to pen in their animals. Jared rode behind the pair of them as they made a straight path north. A man in heavy cloaks riding a horse waved to them as they rode past him and Kamil nearly laughed. Wasn't that Henry Fallis? Why hadn't he recognized him? Kamil had repaired Henry's wagon wheels and axles with his father more than one time.

            The winter had been mild for the people of Hamla. There was scarcely any snow on the ground, and small icicles that hung glittering from rooftops. A merchant had come into the village, with a massive wagon pulled by a pair of draft horses. There was light filling the tavern windows, and the same for all of the Shoppes that comprised the square. Kamil could see his father's repair Shoppe and felt his heart constrict. He reined his horse along the rail of the boardwalk just outside the Shoppe window and slid off on trembling legs. Why was he so nervous? What had his father heard about him, he wondered? Jared and Benmont were just behind him, both men holding their cloaks close about them and scanning the layout of the village. Pausing only once, Kamil rapped loudly on the door to the Shoppe.

            "Yes, what do you need?" came a voice from the other side. The door opened and Andor Dravan stood there, looking paler than he usually did, sweat running freely from his face. He had one hand on a mallet that he was carrying, the knuckles going white when he saw the person waiting for him on the other side of the door. Andor gripped the jerkin that he was wearing and gasped.

            "Kamil?" he whispered, "Is that you, boy?"

            "It's me, father. Do you have time to talk?"

            "Time? My son has come home safe and asks if I have time to talk? Come in here! Your friends are welcome here too!" Andor glanced once and then again at Benmont. He looked over the locks of bright red hair and the luminous green eyes. "Who is this, Kamil?"

            "Benmont Grimnight, father. He's from the village of Banthas. He's my brother."

            "Brother..." Andor whispered again, looking the big youth from his face to the snow encrusted boots he wore. Benmont shuffled where he stood but said nothing. "Please come in," Andor told them when he realized that he was blocking the door way. "It seems that there is a lot to talk about."

            "I'd like to tell you that we came back for pleasure, father, but I'm afraid that it's for something much more dire. I'll let Jared explain." Kamil moved back and Jared nodded to the old man as he shrugged off his heavy travel coat.

            "I would ask you to gather the people of Hamla. And I would ask you to gather them tonight. I will talk with them in the village square when they have assembled."

            The sun was setting over the village of Hamla when Andor had spread word of a meeting in the square. The first man he had gone to help him was Devlin Telba. A former nobleman of the court, he was the unspoken mayor of the village. He was just as shocked to see Kamil, keen to know all that happened to him and, but more keen still to know how Kirstin was.

            "She is north, master Telba, with Cameron Reol and the father."

            "I heard many tales of happenings concerning you, Kamil. One of those tales centers on Cromley tower. Rumor has it that Dagoth besieged the tower and executed Baron Cromley for defying the will of the king. Is it true?"

            "I do not know. I was gone before Dagoth laid siege. As it was we barely escaped that place with our lives."

            "Wretched Avernus!" Devlin spat, clenching a fist and shaking it, "He was a close friend of my father's when they lived in the north. I never once dreamed that he would betray me and my daughter for ransom, or whatever it was that drove him to such ends! I do not feel pity for the man."

            Devlin and Kamil were in his personal carriage as it rolled into the village square that twilight with Andor and Benmont riding with them. There was an assemblage of people near the steps of the church, some bearing torches for light and heat. The carriage master gave a wide berth for the crowd, steering the horses toward an alley where there was room. It seemed that Kamil's sudden return had sparked a great deal of curiosity in the people. Time would tell if that was a good thing.

            "How did you come by this scar, Kamil?" Andor asked, brushing one hand over the still healing wound on his face. "It looks like someone clawed you with their hand."

            "It's a mark, father," Kamil told him, "A constant reminder of what my stupidity almost brought me to. I was almost killed the night this happened. I would have been if not for Benmont here. He saved me from myself. I think it's more than I would have done."

            "Then I am indebted to you, master Grimnight, for saving my boy's life."

            "You owe me nothing," Benmont replied shortly, "I couldn't let the fool wander as he pleased. Likely he would have gotten lost by now."

            "Thanks, Grim," Kamil muttered. Andor smiled warmly and Benmont even cracked a smile until Andor patted him on the back. Then it vanished as easily as it came. The carriage master opened the door for them, placing a stool under the step of the carriage and moving back. Mirrian was already waiting for her husband on the outskirts of the gathering, Karnov and Edgar with her. The old farm hand had secured them choice seats near the front of the church, where it seemed Jared had chosen to form a make shift podium to speak from. From where he stood Kamil could see Julia outside the church doors, helping Jared move a large wooden crate to the bottom of the stairs. They were discussing something. No doubt the sister was berating the man for every sin he had ever committed in his life, if Julia was as Kamil remembered her. He just didn't remember her being so pretty.

            Devlin lead the way through the gathering, most of the people parting before he reached them, saying something polite to the man as he passed them. Mirrian clung to her husband's arm, smiling curtly to any who spoke to her. Mirrian was still weak from the shock of Kamil's return, and finding out that her daughter was safe still. Most of the people in the crowd readily backed away from Kamil as he passed them, some of them averting their eyes when he smiled or waved at them. He couldn't figure out what was wrong. Had he done something to offend them? He left for good reason. They couldn't possibly be angry over that.

            An equal amount of peasants moved clear when they saw Benmont approach them. The youth carried his quarter staff over his back in a leather sling he had purchased in Shiemin and let his long draping cloak trail about his boots. His expression was grim, lips pursed together and eyes narrow and hard. When Jared spied them in the crowd he waved them up to the podium he had crafted. Benmont leapt onto the planks of wood that raised them high enough for all of the people to see them. Kamil paused to give his father a long hug.

            "Wish us luck," Kamil told Devlin as he clasped his arm.

            "I would if I knew what this discussion entailed," the older man told him, brow lowering.

            "You'll find out soon enough," Kamil replied, looking from him to Karnov and Edgar, "You'll all find out."

            Julia greeted him when he climbed onto the planking. She hadn't changed much since he last saw her, with her black hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail. She sported priestly robes instead of her usual skirts and blouses. Kamil smiled at her.

            "Those robes suit you, sister. Or should I say mother?"

            "Please, Kamil," Julia began, a flush of red touching her cheeks, "Since when did you become such a flatterer?"

            "What's the meaning of this?" demanded a faceless voice from the crowd of people. Kamil turned about to face all of them, seeing only dark masses and burning torch light. He could scarcely make out where his father and the Telba's were standing. The village of Hamla only had a population of little more than a hundred people, but from where he stood staring out at them that number seemed amplified tenfold. Swallowing, he stood straight and held his hands over his head to quiet the millings of the crowd. Then Jared was there, planting a firm hand on his shoulder and brushing past him. Kamil didn't know if he were ever as glad to see someone else as he was at that moment. He muttered a secret prayer to the One God, hoping that he would never find himself giving speech to the masses anymore.

            "Who are you, stranger?" a man shouted from the throng of people.

            "I am Jared Tombes. I have travelled from afar, looking for souls brave enough to join me in my quest. Kamil Dravan told me that such brave souls dwell in this village." There were no words shouted at him, and Jared let his words sink into the hearts of the crowd. When he allowed an ample amount of time to pass, he continued. "The king of Dagoth has made a great mistake. I know for fact that he has sent his military far north, where he will lay siege to Avalon."

            "We know this!" another voice cried from the crowd. Kamil thought it might have been Henry Fallis. "Patrols come here from time to time! They seek to enlist our sons for the king's army! He decreed that no less than five families from our village must enlist under his banner! My son answered his call!"

            Kamil lowered his head, images of Sandyl Fallis falling in battle against the Eagle's army. Sandyl was no warrior. He loved academics more than playing in the fields, swinging wooden swords at imaginary monsters. He cast his eyes over to Julia. The young priestess only nodded at him, her face solemn.

            "I grieve for you," Jared told him, holding his arms out at his sides, "I grieve for all of you that have had to live under this man's heel! But know this! While the might of Dagoth's army is north, he is all but defenseless in his castle, content in the knowledge that he has weeded out all threats south of the Crossing! I propose this! If you would live free of this tyrant, then follow me! Follow Kamil Dravan, who has agreed that we could rise against the king, overthrow him while there is still chance!"

            "Overthrow him?" came more than one voice from the crowd, "Would you have us raise pitchforks and rocks against him? We tried that once, and we suffered for it! Many died for it! We'll not answer to such a call again!"

            "I know you!" shouted still another voice, "I know you! You were the man that roused the resistance along the mountain villages! You led the insurrection against the king a year ago! You were supposed to be imprisoned in the dungeons of Dagoth! What kind of trick is this?"

            "This is no trick!" Jared shouted back at them, the only way for his voice to carry over the tumult of voices that assaulted him. "True, I fought alongside many of your kinsmen last year! I was captured, tried for rebelling against the kingdom of Dagoth! I escaped, seeking for these children in the hopes that they would aid me! They have courage enough to stand against the king! Where is yours?"

            "They are the reason that this all began!" Henry Fallis shouted from where he stood near the middle of the gathering, "Assassins came to our village in the night for him!" A shadowed hand pointed out Kamil, and others murmured their agreement. "He has no choice but to fight against the king! You would have us risk our lives and village to save you, is that it?"

            "I am handing you the chance at freedom and you throw it back in my face?" Jared declared, fuming, "How can the people that Kamil Dravan has grown up around be so daft? He must have learned this sense of responsibility from someone!"

            "I taught him, I'd like to think," Andor Dravan said, pulling himself onto the podium and walking over to Kamil. The two embraced again, Andor's eyes shining bright with forthcoming tears. "My son would not endanger us if he did not think that there was hope for us to win! That is what I believe!"

            "No, Andor!" said another man named Dougland Shent, "Your son is being deceived by this man, and you will be as well! This is some sort of trick! Your boy would lead us all to disaster!"

            "I have allies that would join us in Erdrin and Nemway! The fight would not be yours alone! Is it failure that you fear, or is there something more?" Jared demanded, shaking a fist at the crowd of people.

            "Be gone from Hamla, Jared Tombes! We won't have your kind here!"

            A radiant glow from the doors of the church made them all stop. Frozen breath was exhaled silently as all eyes turned to Julia. The young priestess had a single hand out, her mouth quietly forming words of prayer. Her hand glowed with holy light, filling the night with warm brilliance and drowning the light of the torches. No one dared speak while she remained so. Even Kamil seemed spellbound, his eyes unable to pull away from her.

            "Listen to me," Julia stated calmly, her words flowing on the wind, "You have all known Kamil since he was born here. The least you could do for him was listen to his words without making ready to form a lynching mob. This man Jared Tombes speaks wisdom, if you would take time to only hear him. I believe Jared would want victory for this plan more than any of us. He would surely face a fate worse than mere imprisonment this time."

            Julia let the radiance fade from her hand by closing it. The night seemed very cold after the light had fled, and the torches flickered in the wind. There was silence, punctuated by mutterings from the crowd of people below Kamil. Were they considering Jared's words after Julia's speech? Truth to tell, he didn't think it would be so easy. Truth to tell, he really didn't know what to think. Devlin Telba stared plainly at him, his face lacking expression on it. Mirrian seemed almost hopeful, giving Kamil a smile.

            "I think your plan has merit," Devlin spoke loudly, stepping closer to the podium, "I would hear more of it, but in someplace warmer than this. The night air is making us all ill tempered, would you not agree?"

            "Very well," Jared agreed, "Where would be a house to accommodate all of these people?"

            "My manor. The father of each family may accompany us there, where we will see how well thought out this plan is."

            "You there!" a voice from the back of the crowd boomed, making Kamil start. He put a hand over his eyes to look beyond the torch light but only saw men on horseback at the back of the gathering. Gasps and cried filled the air as peasants melted away, allowing the men on horseback to travel through. Torches were dropped to the snow covered ground as husbands hugged their wives close to them, and mothers clung to their children. Kamil almost gasped when he saw the men come into the light of the sconces by the church. It was a squad of soldiers waving the Dagothian banner, the Blazing Sword.

            "What are you all doing here in the middle of the night?" one of the soldiers demanded, his eyes staring at those gathered on the podium. He went from Jared to the sister and Benmont over to Kamil.

            "Name of the One!" the soldier cried out, ripping his sword out of its scabbard, "These are the children the king has us searching for! These are those bastard children!" He lowered his sword to them, "Attack them!" he screamed.

            Everything happened very quickly after that. Kamil had his blade in hand before he even knew what was happening, pushing Andor out of the way as the first of six men in light plate armor rode up to the edge of the podium, seeking to dismount. As Benmont rushed another of the men, leaping from the stage with a hoarse cry and tackling him right off of his horse, Kamil locked swords with another. The man gritted his teeth and pushed hard, knocking Kamil back from the edge of the podium and swinging his legs off the saddle. He could dimly hear Julia telling his father to come with her into the church as the man leapt forth, slashing for his face. The lethal caress of steel passed over his head as Kamil dropped to one knee, his sword finding plate armor along the soldier's stomach. Kamil pushed forward and his weight carried both men off of the podium and into the snow bank on the side of the church steps.

            Pulling himself out of the freezing snow Kamil ran away from the stairs, seeking more open fighting ground. Peasants were running all around him, screaming and fleeing for the safety of their homes. The torches they carried dotted the ground all around the church yard, casting long shadows into the night sky.

            Kamil spun around and locked blades with the soldier he had begun fighting, only to hear another closing in on him. The fall of horse hooves drew closer as he slashed once and again at the man, both times denied a killing blow by well aimed blocks. Kamil settled for overbalancing him, letting his sword hand go limp when the man struck at him and allowing the armor to do the rest. As one of the soldiers toppled face first to the frozen earth Kamil lunged around and put a two handed stroke into the neck of the galloping horse just behind him. He barely had time to leap as the horse whinnied frenziedly and crashed into the snow, sliding under him. He came down almost on the rider as he was being drug by the dying steed's body. Wasting no time, Kamil stabbed forth, planting half of his steel into the man's shoulder. He gave a shrieking cry when the blade entered him, then fell still.

            A swipe of air behind him caused him to roll forward and spin around, blade ready. He barely had time to raise it over his head before the stroke came down, clipping his sword and arcing past him. Kamil stood, backing away from the mounted rider, deflecting one stroke and turning aside a second. He cut at the man's legs with a cross arc, causing him to rein back. Stepping back he found a puddle of water where one of the torches melted the snow to bare earth. He slid half down, almost going into the splits when the first man that attacked him charged, blade raised and a battle cry on his lips. Swords connected in a spray of sparks that lit the dark around them and Kamil fell backward. The soldier put one booted foot forward, then stabbed in with a sharp thrust. Kamil twisted to the side, feeling the sword scrape his back by a hair's breath. Screaming a cry of his own, Kamil raised his arm and batted at the sword, knocking it almost out the soldier's hand. Somersaulting backward, Kamil rose to his feet, powdered snow clinging to his face and neck. Swords connected two times, then a third, the soldier making Kamil fall back with each blow. Stumbling, Kamil fell back against unyielding stone. It was a wall of the barber's Shoppe, not far from where the church stood.

            The man made his move, cutting first down and then across with a backstroke. Kamil locked swords with the first blow, letting it slide off his right, then leaned away from the second. The slice of steel swept past him, almost gouging his arm in the process. Kamil leaned forward and chopped two handed, burying the sword's razor edge into the soldier's armored arm. Blood gouted from the slash and the man stumbled back, fighting to maintain balance while he stemmed the flow of crimson with his free hand. Kamil rained blows down on him, making the man go to a knee in the slush they fought in. A quick jerk back on one of the blows made his sword slip under the soldier's defense. Kamil pushed forward and ran the length of steel right through the man, dropping him without a sound. The body slumped into the snow at his feet, the sword pointing straight out of it like some macabre banner.

            He raised his head from the sight of the dead man, seeing Jared locking swords with another of the men while Benmont struck time and again at yet another. Kamil dropped to his knees at the man's side, pausing, breathing hard before grabbing his sword and wrenching it free. The sword was slick with fresh blood for the last foot or so. He could still feel his pulse racing from the thrill of battle. How it excited him, he could not deny. He wondered if that came from his exposure to the unforgiven, his lust for battle. That was all he could describe it as. Perhaps it was only a darker part of him that had never had a chance to emerge. Funny, he pondered as he stood, that he could feel such fear in battle at times and feel so...rapturous other times.

            A scream from across the square roused Kamil, bringing him to his feet. Jared and Benmont stood nearly side by side against the last of the soldiers that had attacked them. The soldier was making his way into an alley near the church, Mirrian Telba in tow. His sword was resting against her throat, the edge just beginning to draw blood as the man backed away from the pair.

            "Release the woman, coward!" Jared shouted at the man. His sword ran wet with blood.

            "You will allow me to go then! I go or this woman dies!"

            "If she dies you will be quick to follow," Benmont growled at him, brandishing his staff. Frightened eyes peered out from windows all around the village. People watched, holding the curtains close to them, all of the lights doused to hide their faces. Ignoring the peering eyes of the villagers, Kamil dashed across the square and down a narrow alley that would lead him behind the soldier. Crouching low enough to conceal himself, Kamil stalked down the alley's mouth and around the corner until he was behind the man. He had made it better than half way down, with Jared right ahead of him. Kamil waited with baited breath, praying that his plan worked. The soldier cleared the mouth of the alley, into an opening just beyond the Shoppe’s walls that made him a clear target. Kamil lunged in and grabbed the man's sword arm, pulling it away and shoving him back. Mirrian ran off with a frightened scream as Kamil grappled with the soldier, shoving him back into the wall. A groan escaped his lips when he felt an iron clad knee slam into his stomach, driving air from his lungs. The man growled at him, taking a handful of Kamil's full hair and dragging him by it until his face smashed painfully into the cold stone. Fighting off waves of dizziness Kamil sought to retaliate, punching wildly with an arm and catching the man on the jaw. Kamil struggled back and swung his sword, but the soldier parried the attack and pulled it free of his grasp. He followed his fallen sword down to the ground as the man swung hard and missed, the hiss of the blow cutting through the still air. Kamil grabbed his sword up from a snow bank and rolled to face him, only to watch Jared cut the man down with two well aimed strokes to the chest and head. Spraying bright red as he fell, the man teetered and dropped to his face, blood pooling all about him.

            "Are you alright, Kamil?" Jared questioned as he offered the youth his hand.

            Kamil took it and stood, sheathing his blade and smiling at him, "I'm fine. A little roughed up at the end there, but nothing I can't handle."

            "Kamil!" came voices from down the alley way. First came Benmont followed quickly by Julia. The young priestess stopped to ensure that he was of sound health before dropping to her knees to give the dead soldier the Prayer of Passing.

            "Kamil, are you alright?" Benmont asked, looking wildly one way or the other for more attackers. Kamil almost laughed at him.

            "I'm fine, Grim. Why is everyone so worried about..."
            "Kamil!" Andor shouted as he barreled down the alley. "Son, were you injured? Are you well?"

            "Fine, father," Kamil told him in a bland tone, wrapping his arms over his chest, "But thank you for asking. I could ask you the same."

            "Sister Julia kept me inside the church while you fought out here. You have grown so much since you left here, it seems. Where in the world did you learn how to fight so skillfully, son?"

            "Cameron taught me, father. You remember Cameron?"

            "Kamil!" Devlin Telba called as he and his wife came down the alley way. Kamil sighed when he saw the man approaching.

            "I'm fine, master Telba," he told the man as he swiped blood from under his nose.

            "I hadn't come seeking you for such matters but it is good to know," Devlin explained.

            "Oh."

            "I want to thank you for saving my dear Mirrian. I couldn't bear to lose her. Not after what happened to Huros, and having Kirstin leave..." he trailed off, his voice weak with despair and regret. He shook his head to clear it of thought and put a hand out for Kamil to take. The youth grasped it.

            "I will listen to anything you have to say, Jared Tombes. Come to my manor where we may discuss at length this battle you are planning, and where we might find men to fight alongside us."

            "Thank you, master Telba," Jared bowed some.

            "Karnov has gone to fetch the carriage for us. I do not know if this is the wisest course of action to take, but I cannot stand idle any longer. You are right in that, Jared. I cannot speak for any others in the village but in me, you have found an ally."

            "Excellent, master Telba," Jared exclaimed, "Now let us go plan a rebellion."

            "Hold, Jared," Devlin returned, "I would hear more of this plan. I never told you that I wished to challenge Dagoth."

            "If you do not, then more men will come here," Benmont told Devlin plainly, "First to come looking for the whereabouts of the soldiers we just killed, then to punish those that killed them, even if they're not the guilty ones."

            "What would the king do? Hang us in the village square for having dead soldiers here? We could pretend that none know what befell them."

            "You know the king's madness. He will not let it rest there. Well that all of you are hanging from the neck by the time he has his way," Benmont added in toeing the dead soldier with his boot. Devlin sighed, looking from Kamil to Jared.

            "Very well then. I will speak to the rest of the men. I will make them see sense where they have only seen fear thus far."

            "We had best move swiftly," Jared informed him, "There must be a garrison posted near this village if they travel the roads in the night. They will come searching in a day, and we must be ready to deal with them."

            "A garrison of Dagothian soldiers?" Devlin asked, suddenly looking nervous.

            "It is the only way, lord Telba," Kamil assured him.

            The older man shook his head as he pulled his wife closer to him, "That is what saddens me the most, Kamil," he told him.