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Chapter Text

Hwaet! Six years did pass since that day that great Ortega fell beneath the fires of the Pit of Gialga. The folk of Aliahan awaited his return, for all did know his name, and all did regard him as the greatest of men. They beseeched the Nine Gods for even a single sign that their greatest warrior still lived. Yet, the gods were uncaring gods, and on the promised day nothing came. Upon that day an age of mourning fell upon Aliahan. The streets were scattered with ashes, and black flags billowed from the kingdom’s shores.

Four years passed then from that black day. It was then, in the year that was by the Alefgardic Reckoning the third year of the reign of Svein IV the Well-Counselled, upon the Day of the Boar in the Month of the Wyvern, that Ortega’s son Erdrick did see the dawning of his sixteenth year.  His black mane hung to his shoulders, and his eyes were a cold grey. He had grown into a strong youth, and already did he have the height of his father, with a muscular build that was honed through years of sword-training.

It was on that morning indeed that he and his grandfather Ornhelm stood upon the grass in Aliahan’s square, before the bridge that joined the great mead-hall of King Eofor, which sat upon an island in a lake in the middle of the town, to the shore. The two warriors each held a sturdy rod of cypress in hand, and though Ornhelm struck for Erdrick's  head, and to the sides, he was swift on his stance, darting from one foot to another. Every blow he parried, and he did not tire - no, he bellowed a warrior’s cry as he swept his shoulder into his grandfather’s chest, sweeping the old man off his feet. Then did Erdrirck point the rod to his throat. “I win, again,” he spake.

Ornhelm rose as his grandson stepped back. “That is the fourth duel you’ve won this morning, my boy. Lo, you shall stand worthily in the King’s shield-wall.”

Erdrick grinned to this. “Yes, and forget it not, you swung many a blow for me in each of those four duels, yet none of them could so much as touch me! You have taught me well, grandfather”

A crowd had gathered to watch such artistry from the son of Ortega, and now did they break into applause. But it was then that from the crowd stepped Cyneberga, Erdrick’s mother. “Hark, Ornhelm!” she called. “Are you again filling the boy’s mind with nonsense? It was sixteen years ago upon this day that my husband - your son - left for war, and I have nary seen him since. In madness he pursued this curse that Baramos’s servant placed upon his head. But no matter how much he fought, it has only brought ruin upon our family - that same ruin he sought to avert. Why, then, must you tear us apart once more?”

“He will make a fine warrior,” Ornhelm said. “Trust in me. Just as you did, I tried to convince Ortega of the folly of his quest. But nary could I stay the warrior spirit in his heart - and nary too could I stay that in his son.”

Erdrick shouldered the rod and faced his mother. “I have seen the tears you shed, too. Long have we mourned before the hearth my father and your husband promised to hang his shield. Yet I have made a promise to the gods that his legacy shall not have ended upon that day. No, the story of the great Ortega shall not end in fire and ruin and death - this I declare! I shall prove myself as great a man as he. I shall finish the legacy he has written in his blood!”

Cyneberga sighed a great sigh - her gaze was cast to her feet, and a solemn tear fell from her face. She wished nothing else in the world than for her son to stay at home, and to be the family she had lost on this day sixteen years ago. Yet, she knew that her son was a bold young man now, and she could not sway him from his mission. She crossed to the center of the square, placing a hand upon her son’s broad shoulder, and looked mournfully into his eyes.

“I say only this, Erdrick - on your mother’s heart, you must not fall. Promise me, Erdrick, that you shall return again to the shores of Aliahan!”

Erdrick bowed his head. “I shall. And I promise, too, that when I return, it shall be upon a ship bearing the ransom of an emperor, to the sounds of cheers and feasting. The next time you look upon my face, it shall be the face of a proud warrior - as great as my father Ortega’s ever was.”

“So long as it is a face I can look upon again!” Cyneberga wept. “Please, be safe. And may Ramia ever watch over thee!”

With those words, Erdrick stared back into the face of his mother. Even as he approached the bridge, he did let his gaze linger, and he saw the tears that graced his mother’s eye. But he knew that he could not turn back now. The path to his destiny lay before him.

The greatest of Aliahan’s wonders in that Age was the Eormenberg - the great mead-hall of kings. As big as a ship it was, and its roof was wrought of gold, so that it shone beneath the sun. Its name meant “great castle,” for it was as large as one. Here the King held court; here his warriors gathered to drink and celebrate. Indeed, here it was that Ortega had celebrated his son’s birth. It was a place where travelers gathered in search of companions; a place of greetings and farewells, for warriors from across the world did stop before the Eormenberg to partake in cups, and it was an honor to stand before the King of great Aliahan; to share at his table.

Already, when Erdrick arrived, a host of the King’s fyrdmen were gathered. Fair Ruida, the bringer-of-cups, did pour mead into their drinking-horns from the jug she carried at her side. The men were cheering at the outpouring of drink - yet, when Erdrick swung the great oaken doors open with a single sweep of his mighty arms, all eyes did turn to face him. So too, indeed, did the eyes of old King Eofor.

“My King,” he spake, “it is on this day that I, Erdrick, son of Ortega, have come to my sixteenth year. On this day, I am ready to prove myself a man of my father’s mettle. I wish to stand in thy shield-wall; to carry out great deeds of arms in thy name! Tell me, O ring-giver, what tasks doth await me? How may I lend my sword to your crown?”

Eofor, the King, did raise his head. “Erdrick, child of brave Ortega! Long has it been since I have laid eyes upon you, and great have you grown.” Eofor knew of the tale of Ortega, for the general’s soldiers had told him of the duel atop the fires of Gialga, and how he plunged into the blazing depths. He knew of Baramos, and the curse that his witch had placed upon Ortega and his kindred. “Lo, the name you bear is a cursed one. Upon the word of Tisiphone the Black, Witch of Romaly, servant of the Sorcerer-King, you shall be blessed with the might and wisdom to perform many heroic deeds, but so too will the weave of the wyrd lead you to a tragic fate.”

“Verily, O king, I know these words!” Erdrick cried, for he had been told such stories by his father’s warriors. “But lo, my father held that a great warrior could indeed bring the world back to peace. The people of this land are ignorant of that Sorcerer-King’s meddling, yet his spell shall surely bring this land to chaos, if unchecked. I wish to prove myself a man that my father shall smile upon from his throne in Valhalla - to prove myself worthy of shirking that blood-curse from mine name!”

At that, a great cry echoed across the mead-hall. All heads turned to the sound. In that hall there sat Osbeorn, a money-lender, stout and sturdy and clad in clothes of green. Before him, a tall and broad figure glowered over the bench at which he sat. A man, dressed in armor of gleaming steel; his helmet swept with a pair of great silver wings from the temples, and a thick mustache hung from his lip like the curve of a horse-shoe. This was Nero, warrior of Romaly - a slayer, a ripper and a wanderer who had come here from far-flung shores in search of battle and glory. His great fingers grasped the cowering money-lender by the collar, and with but one arm he hauled him from his seat.

“A cheat and a liar!” he boomed. “You lend me thirty pieces of gilt silver, claiming it gold!” Nero reached into the bag that hung at his hip and lifted a gleaming coin to his mouth; there, he bit into the metal, tearing off a piece with his teeth. He spat it at the ground, before the fire-pit that crossed the length of the great Eormenberg, and there the glow of the fire illuminated the silver gleam within. “See! This man is a peddler of deceit!”

Osbeorn’s face went ghost-white, and sweat ran down his brow. “I assure you, sir, I will pay you back when the money comes in! ‘Tis but a delay!”

But such words did not soothe great Nero’s temper. The warrior bellowed a mighty roar, and hurled the money-lender across the hall; he let loose a scream, and the heads of all the fyrdmen turned to him. At the arc of his descent, he came crashing down onto the table just before Erdrick, shattering it beneath his weight; lo, a great cloud of smoke and splinters rose into the air.

Many who were in the hall gasped at such a sight. Yet Erdrick looked upon it with a smile of mirth; now did he know how he would win the King’s favor. “By the Nine Gods - a challenge!” he declared. “Behold this, my liege! I shall best this warrior in combat. Then, you shall see I am a son of my father!”

The young warrior again lifted the rod of cypress from his shoulder, pointing its end toward Nero. But the Romalian laughed. “The Son of Ortega challenges me with but a stick?”

“Lo! On this day, the Son of Ortega shall need naught but that stick!”

“Thou art too old for games!” Nero set his hand upon the skull-shaped pommel, wrought in bronze, of the sword that hung at his belt in a scabbard of red leather. He drew the gleaming blade, swiping it through the air. Yet Erdrick did not falter. With a mighty leap, he crossed the splintered table; he ducked to the ground and rolled as Nero’s steel slashed above his head. Rising before one of the wooden pillars that held the mighty roof of the Eormenberg aloft, he stabbed the staff into his foe’s iron breast-plate. Left and right did Nero swing, but Erdrick wove around each such blow, with the steps he had been taught from his grandfather.

Again Nero swung, but the Aliahanian did strike his rod beneath his bicep, deflecting his blow to the side. There, he rammed his elbow against the warrior’s chest. Nero met that with a groan and a glower, but it was then that he drew back a fist that was like stone, and hurled a punch straight into the Son of Ortega’s face.

With a loud crack, Erdrick was thrown backward. He toppled a mead-bench as he fell; the courtiers that dined upon it scattered, while others cheered on the battle before them. Nero stormed closer, prepared to bring his sword down upon his foe, but it was then that Erdrick rolled to the side, and his blade was buried in the ground. The Aliahanian rose, whipping a kick around at the back of the knee of his Romalian foe, and thus did Nero drop to one knee.

“Dost thou surrender?” Erdrick cried, rising to his feet.

“Ye must think of thyself a jester, if you suppose I surrender!” With a great back-swing, Nero’s blade cut again through the air. Had Erdrick been a moment slower, his head would then be struck from his shoulders, but he ducked low, and it passed by before him. Again did he swing his staff upward, this time bringing the butt against Nero’s chin with a forceful jab, and the warrior was thrown off-balance into the table - he toppled into the pots and cups that were gathered there, spilling them, as one table-leg collapsed under his weight, and the whole table sagged low against the earthen floor.

“Shall I make mine offer again, then?” Erdrick mocked. Now he brought his staff down to rest atop Nero’s throat, as though an executioner would lay his grim axe before the condemned. The Romalian’s eyes glowered like embers. But before a word could be spoken, Eofor cried.

“This is enough! Lo, son of Ortega, who art thou to speak of chaos, when here the both of you tear my mead-hall asunder?”

Ruida did turn to this as well. “What, ho! Ye promised the deeds of Erdrick, Son of Ortega. It is only Erdrick, Wrecker of Mead-Benches, I see before me today!”

“Hmph! So be it, then!” Erdrick turned to the two of them, dusting off his tunic. “If these deeds are not enough to convince you I am mine father’s heir, I shall bring glory to thee yet! Lo, I shall venture forth, and return with tales of my glory!”

Nero, too, lifted himself to his feet with a grumble. “Wherever you go, Aliahanian, I shall follow. You clearly cannot be trusted not to bring yourself to the doom of your father. I am not convinced it is this witch's curse that haunts you, and not your own folly!”

“Then so too, I shall show thee,” the young warrior said to his foe, extending his hand. “Together, we shall journey unto the wilderness. There I shall show you heroic deeds!”

“I will believe them when I lay my eyes upon them,” Nero grumbled. As the King and his fyrd watched, the two of them strode outward, unto the streets of Aliahan’s great capital.

Chapter Text

Erdrick cast a scarlet cloak about his shoulders as he and Nero departed the city. The rolling hills and farmlands soon faded from view, and within a few hours’ time, they were traveling through the howling highlands that surrounded Aliahan’s capital. The son of Ortega led the way, carrying his staff to steady himself as he continued down the path, while Nero hung close behind him, keeping his hand on the pommel of his blade with a watchful eye. Erdrick had never been this far from his homeland, and he looked upon every tree and every stone with wonder. Nero knew this too - and it tempered his faith in his companion.

“You speak of great heroic deeds with the enthusiasm of a boy half your age,” he mused, “yet you still arm yourself with but a stick!”

“Ho!” Erdrick laughed. “My friend, I am the son of Aliahan’s greatest hero. My arm shall be enough.”

“And tell me, have you faced a warrior greater than your grandfather?”

“Do you not recall the matter in the Eormenburg, O swordsman of Romaly? Or did you intend to insult yourself? I suppose Ornhelm does have the memory of many a battlefield of his day to guide him!”

“Hmph. Need I remind you , it was only by your King’s word that you stilled your hand. Our contest is not yet finished,” Nero grumbled.

Erdrick stopped and turned to face him. “Then by all means, give me a worthy test!”

Nero reached into the leather bag that hung at his side. “Watch what a true warrior can do!” He took up a red apple in his hand, one he had purchased in Aliahan’s markets for the journey. Then he tossed it into the air above his head, and as it fell, he swept his sword in an arc. With a single sweep, the fruit was cut cleanly in half, and both halves then fell at his boots. “It takes more than raw strength to make a great warrior, boy,” he explained. “Skill and quickness counts, too!”

But to this, Erdrick only smirked. “Then that is what I shall show you!” He turned to the bluffs of the cliffs that rose on either side of them. A raven sat perched atop a skull, bleached in the sun and picked clean of flesh. “Mark my words. With a throw of my staff, I shall strike that raven dead before it has a chance to lift from its seat.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, I suppose.”

With that, Erdrick turned and hurled the cypress staff in his hand like a javelin. The raven flapped its wings and began to rise, but the butt of the staff clubbed it in the head with the sound of a crack. Both bird and bough dropped to the ground, and Erdrick stepped over to catch both.

Nero rubbed at his chin at the sight. “Hm! A fair deed, to be sure. Yet, surely any warrior could strike a beast dead when its back was turned.”

“Oh? And here, you said you would believe it when you saw it,” the young man retorted, hefting the slain raven in his hand. “And at least I have returned from my challenge with food for tonight, while you waste our rations on mere parlor tricks.”

Nero grumbled, but he had no rebuttal. Indeed, the road was growing long, and the sky dark. Soon they found the top of a bald hill to make their campfire upon, heaping dried wood upon the ground. Under Nero’s guidance Erdrick cleaned the raven of its feathers, then set it upon a spit to cook while the Romalian said a prayer.

As Erdrick sat down before the fire, he turned to his companion. “Nero,” he said, “what gods do you pray to?”

“Lo, I have sworn by many a divinity,” he explained, “but my patron is Estark, the Eternal Swordsman. He lays slumbering awaiting a worthy challenger, I am told, and when I fall in battle, I shall confront him to earn passage through the gates to his shining Valhalla. None can beat him, but if he is impressed with my strength in the course of our duel, he shall grant me the right to feast among my ancestors. And if he is not, he will throw me down the mountain on which he dwells, to fight my way back up amongst the souls of all else who fell before him.”

Erdrick nodded. “Aye, my father was also a devotee of Estark. But my mother raised me in the cult of her clan’s totem beast-god - Ramia, the God-Bird. She ascends from her temple in frozen Liamland at the dawning of every age, to crown one destined to be a great king. On mighty wings she flies about the earth to grant blessed tidings, and then burns herself atop a great pyre so that she may rise again from the ashes when next she is called.”

Nero laughed to this. “Hah! You worship a bird! Estark is a mighty warrior - all clad in iron, with two great horns atop his head, and a third eye that beholds all battles on the earth. He carries a mighty sword in each hand. And you worship a bird! Estark laughs at your god-bird! Lo, my god is stronger than your god!”

“Perhaps,” Erdrick said, “but can your god cross the sky and alight upon all the six continents as easily as you or I breathe? I could only wish I could know such freedom…” His gaze was cast off into the distance and alighted upon an eagle that circled far above the crackling fire. The air was chill, but the flames warmed them. Erdrick thought of the tales Ortega’s men had told him of their great journey, and all the marvelous places they had seen. To tread those same lands beneath his feet; to taste that wind his father breathed - that was the stuff of dreams.

When the raven was cooked, Nero sat down by Erdrick’s side. “That may be the case,” he said, tearing off a leg and passing it to his companion, “but do not forget that you were boasting of your victory over a bird earlier on this very day, warrior.”

The two of them watched the setting sun and the twinkling of the stars. Soon, it was only the fire that lit them on such a quiet night as this. Though Erdrick grit his teeth at the bitter taste of raven - next time, he thought to himself, it had best been a pheasant, or a rabbit - he looked out behind the horizon, imagining whatever could lie over the next hill.

“I have one other question, Nero. How do you Romalians honor your dead?”

“Hm? How? Well, that is a foolish question. We bury them.”

“In Aliahan,” the boy continued as he stared into the crackling fire, “when a warrior falls, we burn his body upon a great pyre as the sun sets, and enshrine his ashes in a barrow, with gold and steel. Lo, if the color of the flames matches the color of the sky, then his soul is destined for Valhalla.” He thought, then, about how his father had been lost at the Pit of Giaga - how he had never received such a noble funeral. If the great Ortega was even half of the man he was told of, then he could only hope he had reached Valhalla.

“It seems like an awful lot of trouble for such grim business,” Nero noted. Nevertheless, he rose from his seat. “You rest, boy. I’ll take the first watch.”

“How generous of thee!” Erdrick said. He took off his cloak, draping it across him as he settled on the ground. “Perhaps I have earned your respect after all.”

“Not yet, Alihanian, not yet.” Nero shook his head. “Nay, you can start by standing guard in the middle of the night, and perhaps then I shall consider you to have the mark of a warrior!”

They awoke the next morning and continued on their journey. As they came to the top of a hill, Erdrick pointed off into the valley below them. “Look there, Nero!” he called. “There is a cave there. Surely, wonders must be contained within. We shall go unto it, and retrieve them - lo, then none can doubt we are ready warriors!”

“Perhaps so,” the Romalian muttered, “but I will be at your back!”

As soon as the two warriors set foot in the cave, they were struck by the awful air that came from far below - thick and moist; Erdrick could practically breathe in the sweat he now felt running down his brow. He lit a torch, and he could see the shaft of the cavern pierce down far into the earth, spiraling lower and lower. On these upper reaches, wooden beams held the ceiling aloft. This must have been a mine, he thought, or a coal-shaft. Perhaps it even dated to the era of Old Aliahan - and if that was so, he grinned, for surely that great empire’s riches could be found beneath. He hurried off into depths at once, a hand ever on his staff.

As he and Nero descended into a deeper chamber, cut by an underground stream, Erdrick’s foot came down upon something hard. A coarse snapping sound echoed above the constant drip-drip of water from the humid stalactites. When the young warrior looked down, he could see it. The skeleton of a man lay beneath them, grasping at the ground as though clawing its way desperately toward a hope cruelly denied.

“Another wayfarer?” Nero asked. “Lo, one has come here before we have.”

“That is what’s curious,” Erdrick replied. He kneeled by the skeleton, such that his torch’s light could illuminate the body. The thing was picked completely clean; nay, not a single scrap of flesh was left. But there was no dust that touched those moldering bones, either. “Surely, if this man did come long enough before us for his flesh to have rotten, then the dust would have consumed these bones. And if he fell within recent days - enough so that his last breath would still be fresh - then he would not be so decomposed.” He ran a finger along the bone, then paused. A sticky, bluish residue clung to his finger; it tingled where it sat there, like a fresh ember. He quickly shirked it.

“Let us keep going,” Nero cried. “Whatever must have claimed this unfortunate soul, it shall be no match for my blade.”

The two of them continued deeper into the caverns beneath the earth, along the shore of the winding river. Before long, that stream emptied into a great pool of black water, never warmed by the light of the sun. A path of half-sunken stones broke through the inky surface, and upon one was an old oaken chest.

“Behold that!” Erdrick called. “Lo, we were right - we shall return to Aliahan as wealthy men today!”

Eagerly he hopped along the stones that rose from the great underground lake, with Nero scrambling behind him. He turned to the chest and heaped it unto his shoulder; he did shudder against the weight, but when he heard the clattering of gold and silver inside, he smiled, for he did know that his hopes would be satisfied. Nero took up the other side of the chest, and between them the two men carted it back the way they had come.

As the two of them crossed the lake, Nero paused; he let go of the chest with one hand to shake it, just as Erdrick had done with the bones. “It’s sticky ,” he said. “That should not be! Nay, not even in a cave as humid as this one.”

Erdrick looked again. That same bluish sludge that had stuck to the moldering bones clung now to the handle of the chest. A few seconds did he stand pondering that when Nero clapped him on the shoulder. “Behind you!”

Erdrick spun around, and there he saw what Nero saw. A crevice in the stone was beneath the chest - and from that crack in the earth rose a pseudopod of dripping blue ooze. Another soon followed behind it - and another rose from a crack in the ground before them! Something, deep within these bowels of the earth, was alive. Lo, and that thing did know of their coming!

“Run!” Nero cried. Hobbling on as best they could with the chest perched on their shoulders, he and Erdrick hurried to the other side of the lake. Their feet slipped against the damp, slick stone, but they continued nonetheless. But then, a frightful form emerged from the surface of the water behind them. It bubbled and hissed, a great, soft thing of a cold blue hue. Thick, viscous rivulets ran from the surface of its bloated body, and its pseudopods lashed at the ground before it, clutching at the stone and the stalagmites to anchor itself as it hauled itself closer and closer to the two warriors. And in the center of its dripping form stared a baleful visage - two pits like unblinking eyes, and a terrible toothless maw.

“By Ramia!” Erdrick cursed. “Never have the Nine Gods looked upon a more loathsome being!”

With a great roar, the slime-thing lashed a tendril at them; they ducked and rolled, only narrowly grabbing a hold of the chest. As fast as their feet could carry them, they hurried up and up, higher along the passage. But the thing from the pit was ever behind them, tailing them with an undying desperation. It conformed to the contours of the cave, slithering along them. Parts of its corpulent form sucked into cracks in the cave walls, spiraling through the fractures in the stone and bursting ahead of them to grasp at their limbs. Nero slashed at a grasping pseudopod with his sword, causing it to fall to the earth with the sound of a wet squelch, yet even severed from its body, it kept slithering toward them, like a serpent upon the ground. It was gaining on them!

“The chest! Alack!” Erdrick cried. “It is holding us back!”

Nero glared at his companion. “Did we not come here seeking riches, my friend?”

“We did - but the gods could only have known what waited for us!”

At last, the young warrior knew there was no use in clutching vainly to the wealth of mortal men. He turned and tossed the chest behind him, into the pit, and toward the ever-encroaching face of the horrid slime-thing. But it did not slow its pace. Unthinking, unfeeling, the chest sank into its oozing form. With another roar it threw itself up along the passage toward them, and only by the swiftness of their feet were the two brave warriors spared its maw.

Before long, they could at last see it - the sun’s light streamed through the mouth of the cave before them. They were close again to the surface! Yet, before they could ascend higher, a bubbling pseudopod was hurled across Erdrick’s ankle, and he fell to the ground, dragged backward - backward, and closer to the gaping mouth of the beast. He could feel the sizzling heat of the thing’s body singe his flesh, and he roared from the pain - but so too, did he remember what he had witnessed on his descent.

“Nero!” he called. “The beams! Strike the beams!”

Here, the wooden beams set into the stonework did hold the cave’s mouth aloft. And, with a swing of his sword, Nero cleaved through them. The stone walls of the cave rumbled and groaned as the supports gave way - whoever had placed them there, and in what age, no one would know, and no one would again see what lay beneath the rocks that now fell into the chasm. The ceiling began to cave inward - a volley of stones and dust and rock came down upon the three. The creature bellowed, and Erdrick hissed as the rocks bounced off his body.

Yet, at last, the slime-thing began to recede back into the earth from whence it slithered, and it released his ankle. He planted the cypress staff he carried in the ground as the rocks fell all around him, wedging it in the earth so that it would keep the ceiling aloft just over his head. Then, at last, he crawled up from the passage he had made, joining the Romalian just outside. He rubbed at his head, panting for breath like a man who had crossed seven leagues.

“Ye gods!” he exclaimed. “Is that terrible thing dead, beneath the rocks - or has it merely sunken back to whatever wretched hell-pits it crawled from?”

“Whatever it is,” Nero muttered, “it troubles us not now!”

“I have seen the folly of my choices on this day,” the young man said with a sigh.

But the Romalian shook his head. “Nay,” Nero said, clapping him on the back. “On this day, I have seen the bravery of a great warrior.”

Erdrick looked back at the stave he had placed in the collapsing chasm and sighed. “Still,” he said, “we will return to Aliahan. I realize I will indeed need a sword - and lo, would I taste the mead of the Eormenburg after this day!”

Chapter Text

The fires of the Eormenberg warmed the weary muscles of the two travelers. Where once there had been only the chill of the wind about them, now they were surrounded by laughter and song. Nero took a long swig from the steel-rimmed horn at his side and turned to his companion across the table. "What say you, boy?" he asked, his other hand wrapped around the shoulder of the wench beside him. "After that jaunt in the wilds, surely it must come as a relief to return to civilization."

Erdrick raised his horn to be filled with another gout of mead, which he quickly downed. "It's warmer, yes, and safer, certainly," he said. "But there is something to be said for the thrill of it, I think. The wind at your back, the thundering of your heart, the high tree-capped mountains before you and the grass beneath your feet. I have tasted adventure, and now I thirst for it as you thirst for mead."

"Yet you also thirst for mead."

"Cannot have a man have many desires in life?"

Nero stretched. "In my lands, Aliahanian, we regard you lot as barbarians - herders of swine who care only for drink and debauchery and the flashing of blades. I cannot say I have been proven wrong, thus far."

"Perhaps you have been told such things," Erdrick answered, "and perhaps some of them are true. It does not seem, though, that you Romalians are too caught up in your civilized ways to spurn our company."

"Just as long as you watch the head on your shoulders."

"Methinks that should be easier, now that those gold coins of yours rest in the town blacksmith's purse." Erdrick rest his hand on the pommel of the copper-hilted blade that now hung at his belt, in place of the staff he had carried before. As he watched Nero down another gulp of mead, as soon as he saw the wench move aside to tend to another table, he leaned closer with a whisper. "Surely, if you grow so tired of the wilderness, there is adventure to be had here within the walls of Aliahan."

"What is that you speak of, boy?"

Erdrick rose from his seat and led his companion out of the mead-hall. It was dark, now - the sun had set beneath the western hills, and now the sky was a deep violet; the shadows of the streets were lit by flickering lamps in the windows. "I am told," the youth continued, "that there is a golden amulet kept in the highest tower of the temple of the Allmother Rubiss. That temple is here in the city - and, as the night grows, it is surely unguarded. Perhaps, with a strong arm like yours, we may become rich men on this night."

Nero blinked. "You think it so simple to break into a temple? Surely it is not so!"

"It is easier," Erdrick said, "when one strikes under the cover of darkness." Then he hopped upon a stack of barrels outside one building, and from there scrambled onto a balcony that abutted its upper floor, then climbed atop the roof. When Nero begrudgingly followed, from their newfound vantage the two faced in the distance five towers of gleaming white marble, each capped by azure domes.

"This is the temple you speak of?"

"In all the capital, there is but one temple of Rubiss, my friend."

Nero scoffed, crossing his arms. "If you think it will be so simple to raid a temple of that size, I already rue the day I decided not to skewer you where you stood."

"Well, do you remember what else we bought at the market?" Erdrick sat himself on the ledge of the rooftop. Reaching into his bag, he produced a sturdy length of rope, and an iron hook. Weaving the rope through the hook, he draped it over his shoulder. "We need not brave the gates, and whatever passages lay between there and the spire. Nay, Nero, we can reach our destination from here!"

There, Erdrick dived from the roof and lunged toward the next building over. He took off in long strides, hopping from one rooftop to the next, pulling himself alone balconies and railings. As a boy, Erdrick had climbed the walls of the buildings to watch after the setting sun, and now he knew the routes that spanned above the streets. Like a cat he jumped to the roof of a stout bakery beside the temple and then hoisted himself upon the chimney. Nero had to hurry to keep up - more than once did he threaten to lose his footing - but he soon followed the boy to where he stopped, staring up at the white minaret before them.

The tower jutted high into the sky, its length adorned with gargoyles and great windows of stained glass that gleamed in the daylight, but now hung in shadows in the creeping night. Straightening himself to his full height, Erdrick waved the rope above his head; his eyes were fixed upon a ledge seven feet above him. But he let the rope fly, and lo, its hook caught the ledge he aimed for.

Erdrick faced Nero with a grin. "See that!" he boasted. "The old fools who tend to this temple have never expected a plan as cunning as this one."

The two warriors ascended the rope, creeping carefully along its length. They pressed their boots against the stone walls so softly as to not make a sound. Now they were coming closer and closer to the window above, and the smile on Erdrick's face grew wider. Soon enough, he thought, the amulet would be his.

But it was just then that, in the tower across from them, a window suddenly flung open. A face stared back at them, with fiery eyes and a bristly mustache beneath a bulbous nose. A booming voice broke through the silence of the night. "Thieves! Heretics!"

Erdrick did recognize that voice. In that temple there lived a priest named Citomer, and at that hour he had been performing sacrifices in the western minaret. He had gone up to vent the smoke that billowed from the brazen pyre on which the offerings were burnt, and upon opening the window he had caught the two would-be burglars at that very same moment. From the second Erdrick heard that voice, his face went pale, and a breath was swallowed in his throat.

Beneath them now, the streets were swarming with guards. Their spears were drawn, and the light of their torches glinted off their gleaming helms. There was nowhere to go but up, where the priests of the temple had surely been alerted, or down, where the guardsmen lay in wait for them. Erdrick and Nero looked at each other, hanging from the rope, but the silence was only broken with a groan from the Romalian, just before he descended. "You had best have a good excuse for this."

Upon the streets, the guards tossed burlap sacks over the two warriors' heads, then bound their wrists behind them with ropes. Leading them behind their horses, they guided them out of the city and toward a hill just beyond the lake, where a citadel of dark stone stood upon a barren crag, above a few ragged birches. Beneath the halls they came to a wall of stone, with gates of iron bars. There the guards took their swords from them, uncovered their heads, and untied their hands before tossing them inside.

"But I am the son of the great Ortega!" Erdrick cried; yet, his words fell upon deaf ears, as the guards locked the cell and walked away. Nero eyed the boy with a stern glare; a few wordless seconds passed before they heard another voice coming from the depths of the cell.

"Ah! Fresh meat for the rats!"

Both Erdrick and Nero turned to the sound. A young man lay seated in the corner; his hair was flaxen, and a jutting chin touched by stubble sat beneath hollow cheeks. A dark cloak was cast about his shoulders, but he wore a tan vest beneath it, and white breeches upon black hose.

"You!" Nero's voice boomed across the cell. "What business have you to mock us? I'd surely crush your skull beneath my fist!" He stormed toward the man, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him vigorously. The prisoner tried to stand, but he was soon dragged back down with a groan, for a sturdy iron chain was locked around his arm behind his back and fastened him to the wall.

"If you'll put me down," the man growled, "perhaps I'll tell you of the key that can open any lock."

The Romalian laughed. "Hah! It didn't seem to serve you well now."

With a long sigh, the prisoner continued. "My name is Bakota. I was once a thief wanted throughout the cities of Aliahan. The treasures of counts and barons found their way into my purse, and though I was wanted throughout the land, no guard could catch me, nor could any prison hold me. I had studied locks and keys, and devised a key that could fit into any lock well enough to open it. My notoriety grew, and it caught the eye of Khamar, the wizard of Najima Tower. He was enthralled by the key I had made, and hired me to make one for himself. Then, he asked to behold both keys, such that he could compare them and see that they were indeed the same. I complied. But in his treachery, he turned me in to the guards as soon as he had my keys in his clutches - lo, cursed be his name!"

Erdrick rubbed his chin in thought. "A key that could open any lock - imagine it, Nero! No door nor walls would hold us. We'd laugh at any obstacle!"

"What the boy speaks of," Nero answered, "is getting his hands on it himself. I suppose his next order of business, after getting out, is to seek Najima Tower, and this wizard."

Bakota spat upon the ground. "You are a fool, if you think you'll ever do such a thing. We'll never get out of this place alive. The guards have said as much."

Nero looked about the cell, seeing the chains that bound Bakota's hands to the masonry behind him. "Perhaps not so by the guards, no. But I've my own idea."

He could see that the chains were old, and had begun to rust through in the center of their links. Leaning closer, the warrior of Romaly did wrap his arm around the chain, gripping one such rusted link between his forearm and his bicep. His muscles bulged as he held it firmly and drew back with all his might - first once, then twice, and then a third time. Erdrick, seeing this, ran to his side and grabbed the chain in his hands. The two of them pulled back in turn, and the chain began to stretch and splinter, until at last, with a loud clang, it broke free, a length of iron trailing from the manacle about the thief's wrist.

Bakota stared down at his hand, clenching and unclenching his fingers. From the moment he had been condemned to the Citadel of Aliahan, he had surrendered all hopes of again seeing the light of day, and yet on this day, it seemed, it had come. "By the heavens - I am freed!" he cried. "But whatever reason would you to do such?"

Erdrick hoisted him to his feet. "Because you know the way to Najima Tower. Know, thief, that you are no friend of ours yet - not until you can prove your worthiness."

Nero raised his head, hearing a shuffling of feet coming ever closer, moving along the corridors like the beating of a drum. "I think such an opportunity has presented itself now..."

In the blink of an eye, ten guards had surrounded the cell, brandishing spear and dagger. The light of the torches that adorned the walls glinted from their hauberks. "Hold!" one of them cried, thrusting the cell doors open. "What is the matter of this?"

But that was the moment Nero was waiting for. As soon as the door was open, he thrust a great fist into the guard's face, knocking the man back against the wall. Erdrick ran for another, sweeping his foot at his knee; thrust off his feet the guard went skidding across the stones. By their example, Bakota threw himself into the fray. He drew back his arm, and like a whip the iron chain that hung from it flew into the faces of three guards in turn, knocking each of them to the floor.

"Ho!" Erdrick boasted. "Let me repeat myself, for when I claimed myself the son of the great Ortega, that was not an excuse - it was a threat!" A guard ran for him, but, ducking his head down, he threw his arms about the man's waist and lifted him skyward; the other guards gasped at such strength. There Erdrick tossed him into his companions, bowling over three men in a heap.

"Now!" Nero pointed down the corridor. The three men went rushing for the exit, with the guards in pursuit. The rabble roared, rushing through the hallway at their heels, but the great Romalian lifted a sturdy wooden table from the floor beside him and tossed it in their direction. The guards scattered as the table bowled over those at the front of their number. Some fell back, while others ran ahead and trampled their brethren. In the commotion, the three escapees had the chance to regroup and catch their breath as they turned a corner and hung beside a stairway.

"We cannot falter for long!" Erdrick cried. "We know not where our swords are held, and not of the windings of these corridors. Lo, we must keep moving!"

Sure enough, another rush of feet came from the passage before them - another group of guards were rushing their way. From somewhere off in the distance came the blowing of a horn, thundering along the narrow passages with a deafening roar. The whole citadel was alerted to their escape now!

"Up this way!" Bakota shouted. He hurried up the stairs; the others followed. The path meandered up the side of a tower, turning in a spiral. As they stepped out onto the landing, though, another three guards rushed toward them. The thief slung the chain around his wrist again, wrapping it around the shaft of the first guard's spear; with a tug he hauled him closer into a kick to his face that knocked him senseless to the floor. But no sooner had he disposed of one guard than another four were rushing to take his place - and behind Bakota, five others were running up the stairs, bellowing in anger as torches flared in their grasp.

"We're surrounded!" Nero roared, pressing himself against the wall. The three warriors braced themselves, preparing to hold their ground. But before a single guard could raise arms against them, a lilting whisper blew by, and suddenly, the guards all fell into a deep sleep, falling in a heap around them. It was as though an unbreakable lethargy had took hold of their minds and shackled their bodies, letting them go limp. Not even all the commotion in the halls could rouse them.

"What?" Erdrick looked left and right at the slumbering guards around him. "What was that - what happened?"

"A bit of magic - the things you study at the temple." From around the corner then stepped Citomer. He wore the blue miter of the temple of Rubiss atop his head, but instead of the priestly vestments of his station he had donned a saffron tunic and hose, with a silver tabard draped above it. From a belt about his waist dangled a mace that gleamed in the torchlight.

"Lo, what sorcery befalls us now, Citomer?" Erdrick cried. "First you call for our arrest, and now you come to our aid?"

"I could not allow the most sacred relic of our temple to fall to such rogues as you," Citomer explained. "But when I returned to my meditations, all I could see were visions - visions of blood and thunder. The gods did tell me that you would do something so foolish as this. I saw what my true calling was. The Nine Gods have shown me that I must watch over you, and so I have taken the vows of the pilgrim - I shall not seek the gods' favor by performing the temple-rites any longer, but walk among the world in the aims of enlightenment. If you seek adventure, I must be there as well, to pull you into line."

"And what business have you with us now?" Bakota interjected.

"I shall see to it that you are pardoned - for it is I who shall see to it you are set on the right path," the priest continued. "I shall guide you ruffians on a journey toward the salvation of your souls! Lo, you only bring madness and destruction behind you - you must see the wanton waste of your ways!"

Nero placed his hand on Citomer's shoulder, and at once, the priest fell silent. "You will start, pilgrim, by following us to Najima Tower." Then he did tighten his grasp against Citomer's shoulder; at that, Citomer took in a gulp.

"...Yes. As you say."

Chapter Text

It had taken the four travelers a week's journey, through various towns and roadside inns along the roads of Aliahan, but the sun was high in the sky when they at last stood atop an elm-capped hill in the western forests. Erdrick sat beneath a tree to rest his weary legs, while Citomer looked on grimly and Nero kept a watchful eye on Bakota while the thief scanned the horizon.

"Ho, boy, you see it, don't you?" the Romalian grumbled. "Don't tell me we've come all this way on a fool's jaunt."

"Nay," Bakota answered. At once, he rose to one knee, back straight and stiff, and pointed at a gap between the trees. Beyond them, sloping down the cliffs, was a bay that opened into the ocean, and in its midst an island, where a tower of grey stone, adorned with leering grotesques, jutted from the wave-lashed rocks. "There," he spoke, "is where the wizard Khamar dwells."

"What? On the island, you mean!" Nero slapped his companion about the shoulder, and Bakota did wince from the pain his mighty arm commanded. "You brought us here with nary a boat to take us there!"

Bakota sighed, rising to his feet and turning to fix a glare upon Nero. "When I last came to Najima Tower," he began, "the wizard showed me a network of passages beneath the earth, running even below the waves, such that he might go about unnoticed. If my memory fails me not, there should be one just below us." He picked up a rock and pitched it over the cliff. "About there, methinks it."

"If you mean to waylay us, thief," Nero groaned, "it is your head that shall be thrown from the cliffs, on Estark's honor."

"Such words of blood and treachery you speak. I see now indubitably why Rubiss led me to such fools as you, for thine bodies and souls would be damned without a wise mind to guide them," Citomer added with a sigh, as Bakota began to descend the cliffs, the others close behind.

"Aye," Erdrick responded as he hurried after the others, "and were it not for what your temple-brothers have taught you, we'd all still be rotting in a cell, so she has my gratitude."

Beneath the hill, Bakota led the three along a narrow valley, one that sank deeper and deeper into the earth, to a place where thick weeds choked the rocky cliffs above. There, beneath a few scant patches of dry grass, there opened a great cavern, like the maw of a terrible beast. “If we follow this path, methinks, it shall lead us to the wizard’s tower.”

“If you so know the path,” Citomer interjected, “you shall go in front, no?”

“And here, I never thought a holy man such as you would defer to a thief.” Bakota reached into his bag and produced a torch, its head bound with oil-soaked cloth. Striking a flint from his tinderbox, he set it alight.

Lo, it was by that flickering light that the travelers did delve unto the bowels of the earth. The walls of the cave encroached upon them, and the winding passages took them through tight turns, weaving back and forth on the path that sloped ever downward. As the light of the cave-mouth faded behind them, there was no light but the light of the torch to guide them, and no sound but the ever-present drip of water from the ceiling. Erdrick’s hand did clutch the pommel of the sword at his belt tightly, for they could see but a few scant feet ahead of them before the passages plunged into the inky blackness.

Then, at last, the path turned, and the light of Bakota’s torch was cast upon a tremendous form. The flickering flames reflected upon droplets that moistened a sickly greenish hide, pockmarked with warts and pores. It was a great beast like a massive toad, all but filling the cavern from floor to ceiling. Its heaving body rose and fell with every deep breath it took, yet it lay motionless, as though in a deep slumber.

“By the Nine Gods’ exalted names,” Nero whispered, “what is that?”

Citomer pulled at the warrior’s arm, guiding him behind a sheaf of rock; the four men crouched behind it so as to stay hidden from the beast. “Lo, if a wizard does dwell here,” he told, “then his magics have seeped into the very land itself. This was a toad once, certainly, but such foul spellcraft caused it to bloat and warp. Now the thing cannot be called a toad, no more than one of the giants may be compared to you or I. It could swallow us all in a single gulp…”

It was then, as the pilgrim spoke, that the great toad did lift its head, stirring suddenly from its rest. Erdrick, Nero, and Bakota went still then, pressing their backs against the stone. Yet it was then that Citomer was grasped with fear, and he did let loose a scream that echoed off the cavern’s walls.

“Now he’s done it,” Erdrick cursed to himself.

Lo, the cavern rumbled with the sound of a great and tremendous croak as the toad alighted in a frenzy. It sprung to all fours, its great head scraping against the ceiling. Nero and Erdrick scrambled to draw their blades from their scabbards, but Citomer fell back, clutching his head and weeping the benedictions of the Nine Gods.

“To arms, boy!” the Romalian called, for Nero did know there was no time to waste. To his feet he stirred, charging the great creature. Its flabby limbs flailed all around it, and great webbed fingers clawed uselessly at the coarse ground, but the warrior did swerve and dodge from side to side around every slap that fell. Upon its other flank did Erdrick rush with a battle cry, thrusting steel into the creature’s blotched and seeping skin. A gout of blood ran down his sword as the toad bellowed in pain.

Its maw gaping, the toad lashed at them with a tongue as broad as a man’s arm, and as swift as any whip. It bodied Nero in the side, and he was thrown against the cavern wall as though borne by a great wind. But Erdrick remembered what his grandfather had taught him. By the flickering light of Bakota’s torch, waved back and forth as the thief scrambled across the ground below, Erdrick alighted upon the sheaf of rock his companions took shelter behind, and then jumped toward the great beast. With a roar like the call of a huntsman’s horn he did stab his sword straight downward, and lo, it did sink deep into the creature’s head. When the boy retrieved his blade, a great spray of blood alighted into the air, and the toad threw its head back and cried out in agony before it fell to the side, dead.

Once again, all was quiet and still in the cavern. Not a sound was spoken besides the haggard pants of weary men. But then, as Nero pushed himself from off the wall, he came to Erdrick’s side, clapping him upon the shoulder. “That, boy,” he spake, “was the blow of a true warrior. Estark is pleased on this day.”

Then, he turned to Citomer, and with a firm kick at the still-cowering priest, he knocked him to the ground. “And you! You claim the gods have tasked you with guiding us? They must be foolish gods indeed if they put their faith in thee, for your cowardice all but claimed our lives!”

“I plead for mercy, by Rubiss’s name!” Citomer cried, holding his hands outstretched. “I knew not what dangers awaited us here!”

Bakota grabbed him by his collar, lifting the man to his feet and fixing a glare into his eyes. “We have not yet reached the walls of Najima Tower,” he growled. “Know on my word that the dangers we have yet to face will be greater still.”

Once the four men gathered their bearings, they pressed onward. Bakota’s hand traced along the walls, studying the curves and slopes they took, for he knew what awaited him; he had walked these corridors before. Here the path did turn, and the rocky ground rose in a series of shallow ledges, like a steep set of stairs. Bakota climbed over them on one hand and two feet, holding his torch aloft in the other, while his companions scrambled on all fours. But the higher they rose, the more light broke through the darkness, until at last they emerged unto the surface.

Now they stood upon the same isle they had gazed upon from the cliffs, and before them rose the great walls of Najima Tower, robed in thick carpets of moss that spake of how many an Age the structure did stand for. As he turned his head to the sky, Erdrick raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, then looked back at Bakota. “Is this the tower you lay eyes upon when the Wizard led you, O thief?”

“Aye, I remember it as much as I did on that day,” Bakota muttered, nodding his head. “Lo, vigilance must be upon us now, for the Wizard has many enchantments and defenses laid for such intruders as we.”

He and Erdrick stood at the lead as they crept forward, passing beneath a stone archway engraved with runic scripts. Citomer followed, holding his hands clasped and his head bowed as he implored the holy Allmother for protection, but Nero met him with a slap on the back of the head. “Save your prayers,” he said, “for I shall not go unto such a place with a herald before me to announce my passage.”

As they stepped into the old halls of the tower, from whence a wind billowed from the depths of its corridors, the path before them split into three, each flanked by the statue of a dragon raising a claw. Erdrick glanced back and forth between each of them. “Should we split up?” he asked.

“Nay,” Bakota warned. “The place is a labyrinth, and the Wizard has designed many deadly wards for intruders like we. Stay close, and keep your blades at the ready.”

Lo, the thief’s words proved true, for the passages through the tower unfolded like a great maze. Lit by the light of flickering torches, the four travelers strode carefully around winding corridors, watching over their shoulders at every step. Yet for as deep as they went, they saw nary stairs nor doors, only the endless turns of passages. At last, Nero grumbled under his breath. “What is the matter of all this, Bakota? Lo, you waste our time with this aimless squabbling!”

Bakota nodded to him, but he made his way to a window on the wall. “Aye. We will get ourselves lost if we pursue this path further. But I know another way.”

Erdrick looked out the window, seeing only a steep drop to the ground below. “Is this a cruel jest?”

“No, boy - look above you!” Bakota drew a length of rope, rolled over his arm; tying a sturdy loop in one end, he tossed it high in the air, snagging it on the neck of a gargoyle that jutted from the walls above them. Then, taking hold of the rope, he began to slowly scale it upward, pressing the hob-nailed soles of his boots to the rugged stonework.

One by one his companions followed. But as his fellows climbed out the window, Nero turned to a small clay pot that sat upon an oaken table, beside a flickering candle on a gleaming stick. Raising the pot, he heard a buzzing sound coming from within. Alarm took him, and the pot slipped from his hand, smashing to shards against the floor. The drone grew; Bakota could hear it from up the wall of the tower. Then, a great cloud of buzzing, swarming, beating wings ascended higher after them. From the broken pot had come a million little insects in a great horde, with beating wings, grasping claws, and wicked stingers, pointed for the intruders’ flesh.

Nero jumped to the rope then, grasping it in his heavy hands. He scrambled up after the others. “What in the world is this? Scorpion-wasps?”

“Another of the Wizard’s experiments,” Bakota mused. “I cannot fathom what wickedness and devilry patrol these halls!” Hanging from the rope with one hand, his other grasped a carved piece of sturdy wood tucked into his belt, and he hurled it through the air. Swiftly it cut its way through the swarm, and the little creatures began to plummet to the ground beneath. Then, the weapon circled back, returning to his hand. “Higher! We have no time to waste!”

The ascent was a steep one, and the moss beneath their feet was slick, yet the four men were gripped by a fervor that stirred them onward as they came to the gargoyle Bakota had anchored his rope from. There, he kicked his feet from the wall and swung in the breeze, gathering speed, before he lunged from the rope and sailed through a window nearby, at the very top of the tower. The others followed soon after, one by one. Inside, they stopped to dust themselves off - but it was only there they realized where they were.

They had come to stand before a great disc of wrought bronze upon the floor, carved with sigils and pentacles. The room was lit by braziers, belching smoke up to the high domed ceiling above them. Beyond those were bookshelves, stacked with thick volumes in every hue. Yet at the center of the room, beyond the disc, rose a dais of stone, with steps leading to a central platform. And upon that platform did stand the master of this place - Khamar, the Wizard of Najima Tower. His slender figure was draped in azure robes trimmed in gold, voluminous sleeves dangling from long-fingered arms adorned with jeweled rings and bangles. His shaven head was clasped in a skullcap with a ruby upon his forehead, and his dark straight-cut beard hung in curls from his jaw.

“Bakota!” Feeble as he may have seemed, Khamar’s voice boomed through the sanctum, and his eyes flashed with fury as he cast a finger at the thief. “The word I had was that thou had been condemned to the Citadel. And what has called thee back here, to a domain I alone call myself master over? Hark, hast thou brought sturdy men at thy back? No power shall they hold against my sorcery!”

Citomer drew back, drawing a sacred amulet from his pouch and holding it in front of him. Yet Bakota met the Wizard’s eyes with a stern glare. “I have been deceived by your wicked ways for the last time, magician! Return the key you took from me, or face thine fate!”

Khamar bellowed out a deep laugh. “If that is what you have come for, then come - I invite you to take it!” He threw back his head and lifted his hands to the sky, chanting a wicked incantation. A wall of swirling violet mist rose from the floor before Bakota, Nero, and Citomer, and lo, the mighty Romalian balled a fist and swung for it, yet his blow bounced off the fog as though it were solid stone. But Erdrick had already drawn his sword before one word was spoken. Before the smoke could rise, he had taken off in a warrior’s charge, straight for the Wizard’s dais.

“Get back, boy!” Citomer cried. “Dare you deliver yourself into the arms of the Queen of the Dead?”

But Erdrick, who had drank the tales of his father’s mighty deeds as he had drank the mead of the Eormenberg, hardly heard his words. He set his foot upon the brazen disc over the floor, and a loud clatter rang around the room. It was then that Khamar turned to a short pillar of stone beside him, upon which there sat the skull of a horned beast, enameled in gold and with sapphires set in its eye sockets. He placed his hand upon its temples, and those eyes did glow with an inner light as he called forth chants in an incomprehensible tongue.

Erdrick stopped then. As he looked down, he heard the sound of shuddering and scraping. The disc he stood upon had begun to recede back into the wall - and beneath it plunged a pit into a dark cell. As the disc sank away, he was forced further and further up against the ledge. Dropping from it as his feet gave way, he tried to clutch at the rim of the bronze disc, but even that slid back into the wall, and he plummeted to the shadows below.

When Erdrick landed, he found himself ten feet below the sanctum. The only light came from the ember-glow of the chamber above, slipping through the hole in the ceiling that the disc had covered. But that light was enough for him to see around him. He faced an iron grate, and then that grate did begin to rise with a hissing of chains. From behind it, he could hear footsteps, and the scratching of talons, and then a low sniffling sound.

“Where is he?” Nero bellowed from behind the mist-wall. “Where have you taken him?”

“Your fellow swordsman is brash, I see,” Khamar noted. “His youthful spirit serves him well. But I feel it has already delivered himself unto his doom, for now he must face the Beast!”

Erdrick raised his sword in his hand as the sounds drew closer. Then, he could see it as it stepped into the light. A hulking form stretched high above him. It was as tall as a bear standing upon its legs, but it was not a bear. Its arms were too long and gangly, dragging upon the ground with wicked talons. Its face formed a long and narrow snout, like the skull of a horse, and from its mouth tangled a lolling tongue that spilled onto the ground, dragging behind the creature. And its fur was no mere pelt, for it rose in bristles and spines that covered it from head to toe, in a thick ridge along its spine. With a frightful roar, the Beast lunged. Long had the Wizard kept it beneath his sanctum, and long had it yearned for fresh meat.

The creature’s claws swept left and right, but Erdrick swerved aside. He raised his sword, narrowly parrying another swipe. He doubled back against the walls of the pit, but in such cramped quarters, his back soon met the wall - and the Beast did come closer to him, loping on all fours in a terrible gait.

It swung again, its claws slashing at the air. Erdrick ducked to the ground, rolling aside and slipping behind his foe. He rose to his knees, panting for breath, but the Beast was already upon him; lo, he had bought himself no more than a moment’s respite as it turned to face him. Its claws came down upon his shoulder, rending his flesh through his tunic, and he bellowed in pain as his blood ran along his arm. He brought his sword down upon the creature’s claw, causing it to duck back, but its beady black eyes still watched him, unblinking and unfeeling.

Erdrick picked himself back to his feet, shaking the blood from his arm. Raising his sword, he began to circle the terrible Beast. Yet for as much as he kept his guard, he could not prepare himself for its next strike. It lunged, turning its head like a whip, and its tongue did swing forth, encircling the youth's well-honed bicep. Erdrick struggled, trying to pull free, but it was no use. The length of the thing’s tongue was lined with stinging barbs that sank into his skin. And it pulled back its head with a wretched slurping sound, drawing back its tongue. Little by little, inch by inch, the son of Ortega was drawn closer and closer to the creature’s waiting embrace.

At first, Erdrick shook his head. He clenched his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut, and he beseeched Ramia for guidance. No matter how much he pulled and wrestled at the creature’s tongue, its grip was as tenacious as that of a storm-tossed sailor clinging to a sinking ship. Yet, as he drew closer and closer, the boy knew what he had to do.

From above, Erdrick’s companions watched helplessly in horror at the battle below them. Citomer kneeled and whispered a prayer to Melisine to guide the boy's soul. But Nero could only watch in shock. “What madness possesses him now?” he spat. “Does he invite death? Does he not dare fight back?”

Erdrick had gone still, letting the Beast draw him in, more and more. It raised its gleaming claws, ready to tear flesh. But it was only then that he struck. Once in range, the young warrior thrust his blade straight for the creature’s heart. It pierced through hide and splintered bone, burying itself to the hilt. Again and again he stabbed the creature, which roared in pain. But soon, its strength began to fade, and at last, its tongue fell from Erdrick’s arm as it toppled lifelessly to the ground.

The warrior held his sword aloft, storming to the center of the pit. His eyes turned upward, staring straight at those of the Wizard; lo, even from ten feet below he could see the fear flash across Khamar’s gaze. Then, he sprung, grabbing an iron chain that was shackled to the wall above him. He hoisted himself higher with a tug, then jumped again, grasping the edge of the pit and lifting himself up onto the ledge.

“Behold this, Wizard!” he bellowed, pointing his blood-soaked blade straight at Khamar. “Your Beast was no match for Erdrick, son of Ortega. What power you wield here pales to that of Aliahan’s mightiest warriors! Now, I command thee, return the key you stole, or join your Beast in the pits of Hades!”

Lo, Khamar was a great magician who saw into the stars and called forth the spirits, yet facing Erdrick’s blade, fear did grip him. He knew then that whatever spell he could call upon would not escape his throat before the son of Ortega could cleave his head from his shoulders. At last, he fell to his knees, his head against the floor. “I have been bested, O son of Ortega,” he cried. “Take the key you seek, and leave this place! Mercy, I beseech thee!”

Erdrick’s shoulder still bled from where the Beast’s talons had ravaged his flesh. His brow was slick with sweat, and his chest heaved with the weight of fatigue. Yet a smile of triumph came to his face, for the will of the gods had favored his sword-arm upon this day.

Chapter Text

As the four travelers again emerged from the cave that joined Najima Tower to the mainland, Erdrick looked over the key Bakota had fashioned; the key they had won back from the Wizard. "Now that we've recovered a key that may open any lock," he spake, "what shall we do with it first?"

"No doubt Aliahan's cities have many treasures yet unguarded," Bakota said.

"Your thoughts are not high enough, my friend," came Erdrick's reply. "Hah! For a thief, you are lacking in ambition." He leaned against a set of crumbling pillars that stood by the shore, which had stood for many an Age, and had seen the fall of Old Aliahan. "This land was once the seat of an empire that ruled the world, I am told. No doubt there are age-old ruins beyond these hills, and no doubt their vaults hold the coffers of kings. Mayhaps your key will work on those doors."

Nero then opened his mouth to speak. "Upon our goings I heard whispers that an alchemist dwells in the town of Reeve to the north of here, and that he has created a bomb that can shatter walls and leave craters unto the earth. Surely such a powerful weapon is under an impenetrable lock - but lo, imagine the fury we could wield if we retrieved it!"

"To hear you all speak so openly of deeds of thievery and mayhem is a shameful thing!" Citomer cried. "You taunt the gods by wronging these innocent people 'neath their gaze!"

"And yet," Erdrick replied, "you still chose to heal my wounds with your magic." He pat his shoulder where the Beast of Najima Tower's claws did rend his flesh; lo, upon that shoulder there was no cut or scar, for Citomer had invoked the name of the Allmother, and his body did mend.

"I follow you only for that it is my calling," the priest grumbled. "The gods have assigned me to thine side for a reason, and I shall ensure your fires be tempered."

"On that note, Citomer," Erdrick mused, "I had a curious dream the other night, whilst we were at the inn in Hethlinga. You speak of visions from the gods. Surely you'd know what it meant."

"I am no god, myself, and their whims can hardly be comprehended by mere mortals," replied the pilgrim. "But tell me of it."

Erdrick began. "I dreamed that I was walking in a great desert. Lo, the sands did stretch in all directions around me, and there was nothing beyond the horizon but the endless dunes. No matter how far I wandered, or in what direction, I found not a landmark, nor any waters. The heat was intense, and I traveled in circles before I at last heard another voice. I came upon two brothers then, who were lost in the same desert as I, traveling from the other direction. One had collapsed of thirst, and he knew that his fate called him. He knew he could not make it back to his home, and he implored his brother to take his canteen and save himself, for they had enough water for but one of them. Yet the doomed man's brother refused to go without him."

"I see, I see. And what happened then?"

"I told him then that he had best honor his brother's dying wishes and save his own life. For if he stayed with his brother, they would surely both perish, but if one of them made it home, and could speak of this to their kinsmen, their people would be at ease knowing of their fates, and not endlessly wondering if the desert had claimed them or if they yet lived. And upon this, I awoke."

Citomer scoffed. "Your deeds were those, methinks, of an arrogant bully. You may not realize it, but your arrogance causes much unhappiness among the people around you. Have you ever considered what people think about you? Even if you have, surely it would only be a reflection of your own feelings, for you have no understanding of those of others. You may suppose you had helped the man save himself, and honor his brother's word, but what would he think about abandoning one of his own blood to their death? Should that be so ignored? It is a terrible mistake to assume that others all think the way you do. But you fail to understand that. So, when you force your opinion upon someone, you may think that you did a good deed, but that person will only be unhappy."

"I only asked for your advice, O priest, not your judgment," Erdrick grumbled.

"You are a strong fighter indeed, and your courage is that of your great father. But if you don't change, no one will stand by you for long. To avoid that, you should learn to give a little and accommodate the opinions of other people. Someone will stick with you, Erdrick. Learn to treat that person with respect."

Erdrick spent the rest of the journey in thought, staring at his feet as he kicked a pebble down the path. Even when Nero began to sing an old Romalian road-song, he did not join him, for he was with his thoughts.

By the next morning, they had reached Reeve. Asking around the residents, they were shown to the alchemist's house, a tall building on the east side of the village. There, Bakota whispered a plan to his companions. "The alchemist shall be guarding this bomb of his by day," he said. "Surely, then, we should wait until nightfall, and then use the key to enter."

"Aye," said Erdrick. "Until then, I say we go to the tavern and avail ourselves of the plunder we've won from the Wizard."

There they drank and sang of great deeds for many an hour, until the sun had set and night had fallen. When the streets were silent, Bakota crept out onto the road and fit his key into the lock on the door to the alchemist's house. It slipped inside as though made for such a purpose, and with a turn and a click, the door creaked open. Then the thief turned to Erdrick, whispering to him from over his shoulder.

"Lo," said he, "the door is open. The more of us enter, the more noise we'll make. I shall stay here, and stand guard, whilst you scout the room for this bomb."

With careful tread, Erdrick slipped inside. He raised the hood of his cloak and sank low to the ground, moving an inch at a time. He found a candle sitting on a table and lit it, letting the glow of its flame guide him. All around him he saw many books and scrolls piled upon tables and shelves, with jars and vials containing the legs of frogs and the eyes of hawks; mushrooms and grasses and powders, and other things he recognized not. Suspended from the ceiling above him was the great scaled body of a crocodile, hanging there stuffed. For a moment, he froze, gazing into the beast's dead eyes. But this was no guardian, and he did continue unto the stairs.

He crept one step at a time, setting his foot gently upon each one so as not to make it creak beneath his weight. At last, he came to the second floor - and it was there he saw a sphere of wrought onyx, bound in gold and inscribed with runes. A red tassel sat at its top, and it stood perched upon a long table amidst charts and diagrams scrawled in a hand Erdrick could barely read. Still, he knew enough, and he knew that this was the bomb he did seek. Creeping closer, he gathered up his bag in one hand, then swept the bomb up into it. But it was then that a door on the wall did open. Panic took the youth, and he blew out the candle, letting it fall to the floor as he dove beneath the table.

The door opened, and a figure stepped out into the hall. It was a girl, about Erdrick's age, wearing a simple green robe belted with a black cord. She carried a candlestick in her own hand, and its light was cast over her pale skin, illuminating a soft-featured face with calm blue eyes, framed in straight-cut red hair that hung to her chin. When Erdrick saw her, he swallowed a gulp.

Then the girl spake, her voice barely above a whisper. "...Is someone there?"

Erdrick said nothing. If he stayed in the shadows, he thought, then this girl would not notice him, and he might still be able to return to his allies and flee the town unnoticed. Then, though, he realized that in the glow of her candle she could see the bomb had vanished from the table. His face paled. If he was discovered, then he would surely be returned to the Citadel - and the guards would surely not tolerate another escape.

Slowly, the boy began to crawl from under the table. He stood, lowering his hood. The girl's eyes widened, and she stepped back, raising a hand, but Erdrick turned his palms to her. "I mean thee no harm, I swear unto the Nine Gods," he said. "My name is Erdrick. I came from the capital in search of this alchemist's bomb."

"And I am Samira, his apprentice," the girl replied. "I have lived my whole life under his tutelage, studying in the arts of magic. I swore to protect his research."

"Your whole life?"

Samira glanced down with a sigh. "My father died of a plague, and my mother was cut down by highwaymen when she set out for the temple of the Wyrdpater to seek guidance. I was but a baby then. My master raised me as his own, and taught me all he knew. I had no one else. Nay, never have I left these walls."

Erdrick stopped, then. How many years, he asked himself, had he looked out over the horizon, pondering his father's great deeds? He had listened to the stories of his lieutenant Amalaric, who had traveled with him to the heart of the Southlands and beheld his battle with the sorceror-king. For sixteen years had he dreamed of great journeys. For four years had he dreamed that he would win his father's weregild. Yet it was only for this past week he had ventured beyond the walls of the capital, and he knew that the world beyond him was greater still. His heart yearned for adventure, and he knew it had only begun.

"...Come here," he said, walking to the window. It looked out unto the night sky, where the moon hung overhead in a silver glow, and the stars glittered all around it, like the bellies of fish caught in a trailing net. Below, they could see as far to the ocean to the north. Beyond that ocean Erdrick knew not what lay, but he had heard tales of many-armed beasts, of forests that stretched for miles, of cities domed in gold. And he wished to see those things with his own eyes. He watched as Samira looked out on them, too, and he saw as her eyes softened, gazing into the distance. At last, he spoke. "You're lonely here, aren't you?"

Samira turned to him, and she nodded her head. "I have known nothing in my life but my master's studies. A kind man is he, and he has treated me as his own daughter. Yet he has never let me leave town. Lo, when I heard tales of a great festival at the capital, I wished to see it, yet he said that I could not go, for I would never master the arcane if my mind was lost in foolish idleness."

"It is through this man's grace that your life was saved," Erdrick said. "But have you truly lived?"

Samira bowed her head in thought. Here, all her needs had been provided. She had a home, a bed, a family. She knew warm meals and a roof above her head in the storm. But was there anything else?

Erdrick continued. "I hear that over the northern sea there is a country of gold, where the people live in fear of a beast with many heads, sating it with the blood of their maidens. I hear that in the east there is a land of tall mountains and deep valleys shrouded in mist, where the people travel along a great river. I hear that in the west there is an island where a great temple has stood for longer than anyone can remember, at the very spot the Nine Gods stood when they created the world."

"And have you seen such wondrous places as these?"

"No," Erdrick says. "Only the stories that my father's men have told me. But I want to see them for myself."

Samira thought longer. Would she dare to leave behind the family she had known all her life? The world he spoke of was one of danger, but one of wonder. Surely, she thought, there was more to life than endless study.

"If you bring me with you," she said, "I won't tell my master anything of the missing bomb. I promise you this."

That, Erdrick thought, is fortunate, for he was planning on leaving town in the night. Then, he rose, turning to the girl with a smile.

"Then come to me. We take to the road tonight."

Chapter Text

Returning with the bomb in tow, and Samira by his side, Erdrick did reunite with Bakota outside the alchemist's house. There the thief led the two of them out onto the road under the cover of night before they could be discovered. They came to a clearing a short distance away in the woods to the east, where Nero and Citomer had made their camp so as not to draw attention. The two were arguing over the flickering fire when the great Romalian looked back at his companions with a smirk. "You're back, boy. And with the bomb?"

"Aye," came Erdrick's reply. He held the bag open, showing his quarry to the others.

"And you're brought a harlot from town back to our camp to celebrate our success, have you?"

Erdrick met that with a withering glare. His eyes sparked like fire, and with no further word being spoken, his fist cracked like a clap of thunder and struck Nero in the jaw.

Samira scratched her head, turning to Erdrick then. "I know not what he meant. What is a harlot?"

"A woman of ill repute," Erdrick replied. "No one you would wish to be compared to. This is Samira of Reeve, former apprentice to the alchemist, and she has decided to join us."

"May the Nine Gods grant us mercy," Citomer cried, "for one may only hope that she be of sounder guidance than the thieves and brigands I have been tasked with!"

The girl sat by the fire then, crouching on her knees. "I know only what my master has taught me," she explained, "for I have never traveled far beyond Reeve, and I have not seen the wonders of the world that Erdrick sings of. I know not the roads, or the hills or the forests. My life has been that of study from scrolls and tomes, until I may master the mystic arts."

"Magic?" Nero lowered himself to meet her eyes, propping his elbow upon his knee. "We just did battle with a merciless sorcerer. Pray tell, what magic can you do that may impress us?"

Samira sucked in a deep breath. She closed her eyes and turned her mind to the mysteries of the universe, letting its energies flow through her. As she hummed softly, her fingers clasped and unclasped around her palms. Then, as she opened her eyes, a small flickering flame appeared, suspended in the palms of her hands. It hovered in the air, burning without wick nor kindling.

Nero laughed at that. "Is that all?" He turned to the spit above the fire, where he did roast the shoulder of a goat; he took the meat down and bit into it, speaking while he chewed. "Mere parlor tricks will do little for our expedition."

So too did Citomer shake his head grimly. "The conjuring of flame is the path of destruction. Lo, in the temple I did study the way of life; of healing. I know many an art too, but my arts are not so tasked with wreaking death and misery upon men."

"You are not pleased?" Samira let out a sigh, glancing down at the earth, for it was this magic that had been her life's study, and yet she had seen it spurned. Erdrick, however, glanced to her, and his hand rest upon her shoulder.

"I think it's magnificent."

"You do?" Samira looked up at him.

"Never have I seen fire conjured by human hands with nary flint nor steel," he said. "When my father's men spoke of him doing so, I had fancied it an exaggeration. Now I am not so sure. Is it difficult?"

The girl shook her head. "Nay, nay. My master says I have great talent. All I must do is clear my mind, and concentrate on the spirit of the undying flame - I let myself become it; I feel it, until the fire is breathed into being through me. Try it."

Erdrick lowered his head and shut his eyes. He mumbled a few chants under his breath, clasping his hands together and then parting them. But when he did, he looked down upon his open hands to see nothing.

Samira watched him closely the whole way through, her eyes unblinking. When she saw the results, she leaned closer, her soft fingers brushing across his knuckles. "You're not doing it right. Like this."

She pressed his hands together, and then the boy held them that way. He took in a long breath of the night air. He held it then in his throat, letting it grow warm, until he felt that warmth run through his body. In his mind he did envision the burning embers of his family's hearth back home; how he would stare into the flickering, twisting shapes on cold winter nights. Then, he parted his hands once more, and lo, a flame did stand there in the air, just as Samira had conjured.

"I did it?" A grin of pride spread across his face. "By Ramia, I did it!" He threw his hands into the air, but then the fire did vanish.

"You need to keep your focus," Samira cautioned. "Calling the fire isn't hard. But neither is forgeting it. As soon as you stop feeding it, it shall be gone."

Citomer leaned back against a tree, stretching his legs. "With this boy, so drunk on tales of greatness," he said, "that shall be the hardest task of all."

"Nay. I think I can do it," Erdrick cut back.

"If that is so, boy," Citomer cautioned, "then you would be served well to learn from me as well. Magic is good for more than just calling chaos and woe."

Erdrick scoffed. "Do ye suppose that the distant gods dare concern themselves with something so trifling as what kind of sorcery I use?"

"Nary would they," replied the priest. "But should you set yourself alight when you so carelessly throw fire around, methinks it would be helpful to know how to heal your wounds."

The five of them soon settled in for the night. Samira had brought no blankets or bedrolls, but Erdrick handed her his cloak to wrap herself in during the night, and soon she joined the others in sleep. They were early to rise when the morning dawned; lo, it was when the sky was reddened with the hues of the rising sun that they began to pack up their belongings, for they wished to be far from Reeve by the time the alchemist awoke and the theft of the bomb could be discovered.

"While we were in town," Citomer continued, "I was able to trace the location of an old ruin, far to the east of here - beyond the mountains." He passed a map to his companions, upon which he had marked the location. "If we seek treasure, I suppose that is where we shall find it. Though I know not what perils we may face in the process."

Erdrick laughed to that. "What worries have we, when I carry my sure blade at my side?"

But the ground beneath them soon rose and grew rocky, for the east of Aliahan was a rough hill country, and the rolling fields and farmlands of the west were well behind them now. The path grew higher, as tall peaks loomed above them to either side. As they rounded a narrow ledge about a cliff, Erdrick looked back over his shoulder; he could see the capital far in the distance beneath him, with the gilt roof of the Eormenberg, and the marble domes of the temple of Rubiss. For a moment, he thought of his mother, and how she would be left awaiting his return. But he spake a prayer to the Nine Gods then that when his feet next set foot upon the streets of the capital he would be heralded as a hero, and sing of mighty deeds.

The sun began to sink then, and as they descended from the cliffs to a row of grass-topped hills, a chill passed through them. Samira lifted her hood to cover her head, and Erdrick did pull his cloak tighter about his broad chest. Bakota lit a torch, but still did the thief caution his companions. "We would best find shelter soon," he said, "for we will surely be lost in a country so wild in the dark."

"What about there?" Samira pointed to the distance, where a light glowed from a valley far below. "There must be a camp there. Perhaps we may find fellow travelers, and lo, perhaps they will welcome us."

Nero shook his head. "The wilds are not as kind a place as the streets of Reeve, girl. I have traveled these hills before, and I have fought rogues who would just as soon slice your throat for a weighty coinpurse."

But they came unto the crest of a hill, and there they could look down upon the valley beneath them. At its heart was a circle of standing stones, which had stood for many an Age, marking a place of power; a place of mystery that beguiled even the most learned of sages. In the center of the stones was a large iron brazier upon a slab like an altar, crackling with flames. Three figures in dark robes stood around it, their faces enshrouded in their hoods, but they did cast their hands to the sky, chanting in a tongue that none could place.

"What are they doing?" Samira asked.

Citomer clasped his hands over his ears. "Lo, I care not to listen, for I do sense foul magic upon the air here, and the Allmother rebukes me."

But curiosity did grasp the alchemist's apprentice. She crawled forward then, slipping out from behind a mossy stone they had taken shelter behind. Slowly, she began to descend the slopes. But it was there that one of the hooded magicians turned to face her, and soon so did his companions. "Intruders!" one called - and two of them rushed toward her, drawing gleaming daggers with blades that curved like the coils of a serpent.

The apprentice cried out. She stumbled back, but slipped off her feet and fell. The magicians were on her now - they loomed tall above her and their daggers were drawn, prepared to plunge into her heart. But it was then that she thrust her hands before her. A great torrent of fire did leap from her hands, engulfing the two hooded men, who screamed and writhed as they fell to the ground. Yet the fires consumed them, and soon they fell still. Witnessing this, the third mage took off in a panic into the night, leaving their grim altar behind.

Samira was left gasping for breath. She looked down at her hands, her eyes wide and glassy, for the power she conjured she knew not from whence it came. She did not notice her companions had returned to her side until Erdrick spoke. "What...was that?"

The girl looked up at him. "Truthfully...I know it not," she said. "I have conjured fire before, yet not a blaze as great as this. Methinks it was fear that overtook me - and in trying to save myself, I drew upon a great well of power within my heart that I knew not that I had. Lo, it was strength born of desperation."

"At any rate," Bakota added, "these fools shall harry us not." He walked into the stone circle, looking up and down. Around the altar were scattered half-melted candles and a few piles of ashes he cared not to ponder from whence they came. Crouching low to the ground, he examined the altar for anything of value. Then, tucked beside one of the standing stones, he found a curious carving of ebon wood.

"Citomer!" he called. "Is this anything you recognize?" Returning to the side of his companions, Bakota held the strange effigy. It was about a foot high, and carved in the shape of a humanoid figure, squatting as though upon a throne. One hand was held down, while the other was raised in an arcane gesture, raising three clawed fingers while holding the thumb and pinky together. But most curious of all was that the figure wore a crown with two great horns, and at the center of its forehead was a great unblinking third Eye that seemed to stare at them.

The moment the pilgrim beheld it, he let out a gasp. Then, he grabbed the idol from Bakota's hands and hurled it into the fire, where the flames consumed it.

Bakota scoffed. "Could we not have at least found a buyer for the thing?"

"No respectable merchant would let such a hideous and accursed thing into their house," Citomer cautioned. "Better we rid ourselves of it at once."

The travelers spent the rest of the night around the fires of the brazier before the sun rose and they returned to the trail. Two more days and two more nights passed before they at last found themselves where Citomer's map had led them. In the center of a valley there grew a grove of pines, their slender trunks huddled closely as though guarding some obscene secret. There, in the side of a hill that stood before a lake fed with streams from the mountainsides, was an old stone archway, flanked by chipped and crumbling pillars. Beyond it, a tunnel that plunged into the shadows.

"This is certainly the make of the old empire," Bakota confirmed, running his hands along the old masonry.

"If whoever built this place is dead," Samira replied, "then surely we have nothing to worry of. We can take whatever treasures from here we wish. No one will miss them."

"That is a most naive thing to say, my friend." Nero shook his head, resting his hand upon the pommel of his sword. "You would be surprised what you may find in the dark corners of the earth."

Under torchlight, the five plunged deeper into the corridors. Erdrick looked left and right as the flames illuminated the murals upon the walls - scenes of great kings and perilous conquests, and men that strode across many lands. Even as the others forged ahead, he stopped and stared at the engravings, placing his hand upon them and imagining that he might walk the same path of those ancient kings.

He was shaken from his thoughts then when we heard a skittering in the shadows ahead of them. Then he stopped, straightening his back and looking at the others. "Did you hear that?"

"Aye, boy," Nero said. He drew his sword from his scabbard and hung against the wall. "Stay close. As I suspected, we are not alone."

Their footsteps grew soft and their motions slow as they crept along the corridor. Then they heard it again - another scuttling, coming from behind them now. "Where is it coming from?" Erdrick cried. "First we hear it before us, and then behind?" For they did walk along a single narrow corridor that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see.

At last, they passed before an archway where the path split. They stopped, readying their weapons - and there, a creature emerged from the shadows at their sidee. It was long-bodied like a serpent, with a thousand crawling legs beneath it, like a catepillar or a centipede, but this was far larger, as tall as a horse and as long as two men lying head to foot. Its body was encased in a green shell that glittered in the torchlight, and its head was topped with a set of snapping, gnashing jaws.

Citomer let loose a scream and ran down the passage. Bakota and Samira followed. Fearless Erdrick gripped his blade and swung for the beast, yet the steel did bounce off its armored body. Nero grabbed him then by the arm and pulled him along the corridor, after the others.

"What madness is this, Nero?" Erdrick called. "Is there a warrior's heart in running away?"

"If that warrior should value his life, yes!" the Romalian snapped back.

The passage branched into a series of halls then, winding and circling around each other, yet all returning to the same path. And the great catepillar did pursue them ever deeper. It sprung onto the walls to skitter across on its hundred feet. At times, the floor beneath them had given way into a steep chasm, and they were forced to double back. Every time one of them could swing for the beast, their weapons bounced harmlessly off its impenetrable hide.

All eyes turned then to Samira. "Can you not conjure a spell to slay it?" Citomer barked.

The girl shook her head. "I know not how I summoned the flames I did before. I have not the time to learn!"

Then, Erdrick elbowed the priest in the side. "Then what of the spell you cast upon the guards of the Citadel, pilgrim?"

"Ah-!" Struck by inspiration, Citomer spun around. He held one hand before him, clutching his mace with the other. He called upon the name of the Allmother, and lo, the beast that pursued them and drew closer and closer did suddenly slow, before its feet gave out from beneath it and it fell limp.

They drew closer, all of them gasping for breath. "We must act quickly," Citomer cautioned, "for the thing is not dead, but merely sleeping. I know not how long the enchantment will last."

With hurried steps, the travelers ran further down the corridor. But it was then that their path was blocked. Between a pair of towering statues in the shape of crouched warriors, their bowed heads touching the ceiling, a pile of rubble had collapsed into the passage. The way forward was a dead end.

"We must turn back," Bakota muttered. But as he did, the sound of clattering against the old stone slabs beneath their feet began to echo off the walls. When they turned behind them, they saw the insect had shirked off the spell cast upon it. Now it curled its head and its tail inward, and like a wheel rolling across the ground it spun toward them. It was descending upon them faster and faster by the moment!

"Girl!" Nero shoved at Samira. "If there is a time for Wyrdpater to bless you with the knowledge you lack, that time would surely be now!"

Samira clutched at her head, wracking her thoughts for the incantations that would save them, but she found them not. It was Erdrick instead who was stricken. "The bomb!" he cried. "Only that bomb shall pierce this creature's armor!"

Drawing the alchemist's bomb from his bag, he held it toward Bakota, and the thief did light its fuse with the flame of his torch. But the creature was growing closer and closer.

"Act quickly, now!" Bakota cried. "We've not much time!"

Erdrick leaned closer, his hands gripping the bomb. He drew back a shoulder, prepared to hurl it for the beast. But it was then that his foot slipped upon a loose stone, and as he fell back, the bomb flew from his hands, sailing above the heads of his companions. They all ducked down to slip free of its path. In the heat of the moment, there was no time that they could catch it, or redirect its path. It fell upon the heap of crumbling stone that blocked the path before them, and then, with a loud crack, it burst.

The travelers ducked down to shield their eyes from the blast. A flash of light and a clap of thunder sounded. A gout of hot smoke billowed down the passage. But when that smoke cleared, the rubble had been shattered.

The path ahead was clear - and, in the torchlight, they could see that it led to an apse at the far end of the corridor. It was flanked by orbs of marble that sat upon gilt pillars, and the floor and walls were paved in blue tiles like the cool hues of the ocean. Beyond the orbs was an archway - an archway that glittered with a cloud of swirling blue mist, covering the path beyond.

The catepillar had been shaken by the blast. But then the creature did right itself, and again it charged toward the party. There was no way to forge ahead - so Nero pointed his sword through the passage they had opened. "That way! Quickly!" he called.

"We know not what lies beyond!" Citomer protested.

"Yet we know that only death awaits us here!" The warrior took off in a charge down the path, rushing for the alcove at the end of the hall. Then Citomer, then Bakota, and then Samira. Erdrick was left facing the beast as it drew closer and closer to him. It was almost upon him now, rearing; it extended its grasping, scuttling legs, and snapped its jaws.

It was only then that Erdrick turned to run after his companions. He watched as Samira ran beneath the archway, through the fog, and there she vanished into thin air. To where she was taken, or what lay ahead, the son of Ortega did not know. Yet, he knew within his heart that this was the only chance. Lunging, he threw himself for the gate. The blue fog ran over him then, like a cool mist against his skin. He shut his eyes and thought a silent prayer that he find safety when he opened them.

Chapter Text

As Erdrick lunged through the swirling mists, his world was in motion. He felt as though a bird in flight, or like he had fallen from the heights of a tower. Behind him he still heard the thousand scuttling legs of the giant armored catepillar that did pursue him with a tireless hunter's fervor. He felt the thunder of his heart within his chest, and the tightness in his stomach. But then, with the speed at which it had all begun, it all stopped. Suddenly, all was silent. All was calm.

He had come to a halt now. Rubbing at his tired eyes, he began to stretch. When he looked around him, through a blurred haze, he could make out granite tiles, battered and worn under the weight of age, beneath his feet, and pillars that supported a roof above him, upon which there was a chipped mosaic of a winged god reaching for a star. Then, at last, the silence was broken.

"Erdrick?"

He rose to his feet then, and Samira did step forward. Nero, Citomer, and Bakota were close behind her, but it was the alchemist's apprentice who breathed a sigh and fell against him, her arms embracing his shoulders. "Thank the gods you made it!"

"So I did..." He groaned under his breath, for there was still a pounding in his head. "Where...are we?"

"Wherever we are," Citomer answered, "it is far from the shores of Aliahan. Lo, I suspect we found one of the long-buried gates through which the ancients linked the many lands of their empire. It had sat buried for how many Ages I know not, but it has taken us far from home indeed."

"This way," Bakota said, turning to a passageway where a shaft of light illuminated the dust swirling through the air. "I see light; we are not far from the surface."

And lo, when the five travelers did step through a passageway, they found themselves beneath the shining sun. It hung high in the endless and unbroken blue of the sky, gleaming like a brazen shield; Erdrick had to shade his brow against the light. They had exited through a squat shrine of marble, built atop a grassy hill, and around them on all sides were flagstones and the broken shafts of pillars that once stood before them, amidst the tall grass. To their west and east and south came the crashing of waves, for they stood atop a promontory high over the sea, which lashed at the sheer rocky cliffs far below. To the north, however, there wound a road that spiraled down the hills. For miles they could see it winding back and forth over hill and valley, between groves of olive and cypress trees, and fields of wheat and vines. Far in the distance, they could see the white marble walls of a great city, which rose upon five hills. Red-tiled roofs and gleaming towers jutted above the ramparts, like fingers reaching to the sky.

Erdrick and Samira marveled at the sights they thus beheld. But it was Nero who stepped forward with a gasp. "Lo, I can hardly believe it!" he cried. "Estark be praised! The portal has taken us to Romaly!"

"Your homeland, Nero?" Erdrick turned to his first companion. "Then you shall lead the way!"

"I need no invitation!" The warrior still wore the armor upon his shoulders that he had carried from the Eormenberg, but it seemed to burden him little. With a hare's grace he hurried down the path before him, and his companions were close behind. "Come, barbarian!" he called to Erdrick. "Never before will ye have seen such a city as this!"

In that Age Romaly was the largest city in all the world. Lo, it did stretch over five hills, and the valleys and rivers between them. There were a million streets, a hundred temples. The buildings were of marble that shone in the sun, and they rose above Erdrick's head like towers. All around him the people traveled in great throngs. Though he wore the tunic and hose of the Aliahanians, he was not out of place, for people came here from all reaches of the world; he beheld smoky-eyed Isisians in their white robes, and the ebon-skinned folk of the Southlands with golden bangles jingling from their arms, and the squat dwarves of the mountains whose beards were braided with gold and ivory, and the seafaring folk of Portoga who wore puffed sleeves and brocades. From every corner of streets came the cry of merchants hawking their wares, of silks and blades, of jewels and olive oil, from beneath canopies in a hundred colors. Horses and elephants dressed in gold and silk tramped the wide roads before him. He looked upon it all with the eyes of a child, stricken with awe, for even the capital of Aliahan was not so wondrous as this.

"Such wealth! Such grandeur! Lo, Nero, is this truly the land you call your home? My eyes have never beheld a city of such splendors!"

"Romaly is the crown jewel of the Empire that is great Romalia," the warrior continued. "The King's reach does spread as far as the northern ocean, and as far east as the shores of the Inland Sea, and as far west as the mountains that mark the borders of Portoga. There are a thousand thousand towns and cities within that great Empire."

"And are they all as marvelous as this?" the boy cried.

But to that Nero shook his head. "Even in all the King's lands, there is but one Romaly!"

To his left, Erdrick looked over to Samira, who had fallen behind the rest of the group. She panted for breath, stopping beside a fountain that sat beneath a gilt dome that glittered as the sun hit it. "I must stay here and catch my breath," she said. "I have never seen so much in one place."

But Erdrick took her by the wrist in his hand. "Nay, here," he said. "I shall guide you, for in a place like this, if we are to leave one another's sight, we shall surely be lost!"

As they meandered through the streets, a pair of guards stood before a great arch that cast its shadow across the road below. Each was dressed in a breastplate of steel, wrought with bands of leather and gold, above a skirt of leather straps, and the helms atop their heads were crested in a row of thick red horse-hair. "Hark!" cried one. "Sturdy warriors are ye, the lot of you?"

Erdrick turned to them with a grin, clasping his hand against his heart. "Lo, I am Erdrick, son of Ortega, who has come from the land of Aliahan, and I have slain the Beast of Najima Tower! Yet still do I await greater journeys, and greater foes, and I shall boast of grander deeds yet!"

The other guard said thus: "The King has called upon mighty warriors to right a great wrong against his royal throne. He shall surely promise a great reward to any bold souls who can accomplish such a task."

To that, the boy stood tall and beamed with pride. "Then it seems as though we have already found our new calling in this land. I request an audience with this King, upon my honor as a warrior."

The guards led them then down the street, coming to a wide road that was lined with trees; it was wide enough for five chariots to ride comfortably abreast. Along the way they passed beneath many a great arch, which the kings of Romalia did carve in those days to commemorate their victories and conquests; upon each there were engravings of mighty armies. As they walked, Citomer turned to Erdrick. "Your enthusiasm has not been dampened even by the dangers you have faced?"

The youth laughed at his words. "Nay, pilgrim, the danger only leaves me yearning for more, for it is through the threats I must overcome that I know I walk the same path as the great Ortega. Lo, my father did not earn his hallowed name through idle inaction, nor by taking the coward's path!"

"At least," the priest cautioned, "you do so with the intentions to aid a kingdom in need, this time. A most noble goal that is."

"And perhaps," Bakota added, "to be rewarded from the King's coffers? I can hardly imagine the depth of this ruler's vaults, if these are the lands he rules over."

The great Palace of Romaly was built atop the Emperor's Hill, and lo, its grounds stretched from one end of the Hill to the other, with many courtyards and gardens and pools, and domes of gold and silver and white marble. A long row of columns lined one walkway that led south, toward the towering arena that held the famed fighting pits of that grand city, and another that led north, to a great track where chariot races were held, such that the King could attend the grand games without walking the same streets as his subjects below.

It was up a great flight of stairs that the five ascended to come to the palace gates, and beyond those they found vaulted halls that stretched even higher skyward than the gilt roof of the Eormenberg, their ceilings decorated with mosaics in glittering jewels. Beneath their feet a carpet of red silks did span the length of the corridor, and crouching stone lions watched them with their carved eyes. As they went they passed by two warriors who traveled in the opposite direction. One was a pale-faced man with a red mustache and braided hair, wearing a fur-lined tunic emblazoned in the tartans of the Edinan highlanders, and he carried a great broadsword upon his back. His companion was swarthy and dark of hair, wearing a turban upon which was stacked a bladed ring of gleaming steel, and a curved blade hung at his side by a beaded cord, in the style of the Baharatan kingdoms. The word of the King's mission, it seemed, had spread through the city, and it was a task that journeymen of all sorts did wonder at.

At last, they ascended another flight of steps that came to a dais of white marble, and there, atop a throne of gold, surrounded by guards who wore black-hued armor beneath purple cloaks, there sat Antoninus Tarquinian Septimus, King of Romaly. A sturdy man was he; though his beardless face was lined with age, and his curly hair had greyed, his stocky build could be noted even beneath the robes of whelk-dyed violet that adorned his heavy arms. Placing his chin upon his fist, his grey eyes narrowed upon the travelers that had brought before him. "Still more do answer my call?" he asked of the guards. "Lo, hath I not already addressed such wayfarers but a moment before?"

"My liege," the guard said, dropping to his knee before his master, "it was on the streets that we did encounter these travelers, from afar as Aliahan. They too seek to aid thee."

"Aye," Erdrick said, stepping forward. "Your majesty, if the fact that we seek to mend what sorrow ails thee does not justify my presence, know then that I am the son of Ortega, greatest of all of Aliahan's warriors, and I shall follow in his mighty footsteps at thy calling."

Antoninus did nod his head then, for he did know of Ortega and his mighty deeds. "If you do have the blood and the heart of that great general," he said, "then I am in hands that the Nine Gods do rightly guide! Lo, it was within this city that my men did hold captive the fearsome Kandar, King of the Bandits. For many a year had his men harried my legions from his redoubt at Shampan Tower to the west. It was a bloody battle indeed that ensued until the day we were able to capture him - yet he stayed within the walls of Romaly for but one day before he escaped, through what artifice I do not know. And, in doing so, he absconded with my golden crown."

"You wish for us to bring this rogue to justice, then?"

"There would surely be a great bounty on Kandar's head," he said, "but what I wish more is to have the crown returned. For the golden laurel I once wore has long been a symbol of the power of the kings of Romaly, and should it be lost, the people would question the rightfulness of my reign. The first who can return the crown to the palace shall be decreed a hero of Romalia!"

Erdrick bowed his head then. "Milord, disappointed in our efforts you shall not be - this I swear, by the Nine Gods! Our blades are sure, and our wit is sharp. Whatever bounties you may name, we shall collect them!"

"Then be off with you!" Antoninus beckoned his hand to the exit. "My time is not to be spent waiting for results!"

It was then that Samira cleared her throat, stepping up to face the King's throne. "If I may, my liege," she said, "I must ask a favor of my own. Since I set foot in this city, I have felt nothing but awe at the glory of its streets, and of your palace. Surely, then, you've a great library of arcane wisdom? I can only imagine what wealth of learning you hold puts that of Reeve to unconsolable shame."

"If it is the palace archives you wish to pursue," Antoninus spake, "my guards shall accompany thee, for the texts are priceless, and I shall let no other treasures of the palace go missing."

Citomer glanced back at the other three men. "I shall go with the girl," he said, "for I have no calling for what designs these three are plotting."

Indeed, Nero clasped Erdrick on the shoulder as he turned to leave, with Bakota following. "We've earned a night to explore the city's splendors," he cheered. "Come, let us see if the wine of Romaly rivals the mead of your Eormenberg!"

Lo, the three of them carried on well into the night, partaking in wine and song and the company of women. When Erdrick awoke, he remembered the merriment they had in the great city's taverns, yet not who won the drinking contest between he and his companions. Still, that would not hinder him, for he had other plans yet. Bakota had won many golden treasures from the halls of Najima Tower, and the three traded them in the city's markets to supply themselves for the journey ahead. By midday the three of them gathered by the city gates. Erdrick wore now scale-mail atop his tunic and the sandals of the Romalians on his feet, and he perched a gleaming helm atop his head; a round brazen shield with the image of a gorgon's frightful face sat under his arm. Nero had donned a hauberk of chain, and Bakota a set of laquered leathers. At last, Samira and Citomer returned from the palace to greet them.

"Methinks we are well prepared for whatever this Kandar awaits us with," Erdrick spoke.

Citomer, meanwhile, rubbed his chin, looking their armaments up and down. "We have a long journey ahead of us," he grumbled, "and you spent all your coin on wine and wenches, and on such weapons of war - yet you did not spare any to buy horses?"

Erdrick paused, for that was a thought that hardly entered his mind, but he shrugged. "It matters not how long our travels take," he said, "so long as we return with the task complete. I would quite like to admire the scenery of this new land, regardless."

The path before them was a long one indeed. For a week they traveled northward as the fields and farmlands that surrounded the great city gave way to hills and woodlands. For the first few days they could spend the night at roadside inns, or under the hospitality of the farmsteads they passed, yet soon they were forced to make camp in the uncaring wilds. They were accosted by rogue knights who demanded duels, and hungry packs of wandering wolves, and great clawed crabs that roamed the hills, but they dispatched each threat with sword and spell. The mountains loomed ever closer to the west, rising higher and higher above the horizon, before the travelers came to a high pass along the cliffs, and from thence they descended into the grassy plains beyond. These plains marked the wild frontier of the Empire, for the mountains did limit the reach of the King's legions, and it was a land where many turned to banditry and preyed upon caravans; lo, as Nero warned the others, even the villages they passed through were full of disreputable and covetous folk who were wont to rob them in their sleep.

But by the thirteenth day they at last stood before a great tower rising from the tall grass. Lo, gargoyles did stare from its ramparts, and the walls were lined with arrow-slits, for this tower was once a mighty fortress of the royal legions before it was overtaken by brigands, and it had passed hands between many a warlord since. Most imposing of all, though, were two iron pikes that sat before the entrance. Atop them, buzzing with flies, were impaled the heads of the Edinan and the Baharatan they had seen at the palace, their mouths still agape in the horror of their ends.

Citomer winced. "We are not the first to come here," he said. "Methinks there is surely glory to be found elsewhere."

But Erdrick shook his head. "The son of Ortega shall fear no such challenge." Defiantly, he strode to the door.

Chapter Text

Shampan Tower had been a mighty fortress in its day, watching over the plains with the vigilance of a shepherd. Though the sun shone brightly outside, when the five travelers made their way through the gates, all around them was dim, for the windows were small and shuttered. Only the flickering red glow of torchlight played across the time-worn stone of the walls, casting great shadows upon the floor. The travelers produced torches of their own, though they crept low to the ground and spoke in whispers, for they knew they among many foes, and they wished not to alert their presence.

Erdrick turned to Bakota as he sank against the walls. "You lived the life of a thief," he said. "What may you tell us about what we are to expect here?"

Bakota met him with a frown. "As a thief," he said, "I acted alone, and won my riches through stealth and fleetness of foot. These men we deal with are bandits. There are many of them, and they exert their strength through force of arms. Lo, if it is an entire tower they have claimed as their domain, then it is the five of us against a ruthless army."

"Hah!" Erdrick scoffed. "That matters not. Let their leaders come before me, and I shall show them the might of Ortega's kin."

Citomer spake thus: "Whilst the rest of thee were drowning in your cups, I saw fit to research Shampan Tower. This place has stood for many years, yet long has it been lost to the King's legions. It has passed through the hands of many thieves and brigands and warlords, and Kandar is only the latest of these. There are no doubt many dangers that await us, for the tower's occupants have surely constructed many traps and devices to guard their ill-gotten wealth."

It was with careful tread that the companions pushed deeper along the winding corridors that traced the walls of Shampan Tower. Yet it was not long before they heard the first footsteps echoing off the high walls to their sides. Citomer gasped, going to blow out his torch and jump back into the shadows, but Erdrick laughed. "We have faced mighty beasts indeed, and here you fear men!"

Three men emerged from the shadows then. Their features were hardened, their faces traced with scars and their hair worn wild. Studded leathers adorned their chests, and they bore bucklers and short-swords in hand. At the sight of the intruders they rushed closer, bellowing a call, but Erdrick did charge to meet them. His shield pounded into the chest of one brigand, causing him to go stumbling against the wall before the boy's sword sliced straight across his throat. With swiftness Erdrick then spun to another leering bandit, ducking beneath the swipe of his sword before driving a stab beneath his arm, and piercing his heart; thus did the man sputter and cough blood as he fell lifeless against the wall. Behind him, Nero brought his blade down upon another bandit's head, and sword and shield dropped from that rough man's hands as his body went slack and fell to the floor.

"What did I tell you, Citomer?" Erdrick said, turning to his fellow. "These men are no match for me."

"These men, yes," the priest said, "but they are not alone!"

From around the corner, the sounds of the drumming of feet grew louder, for the bandits' cries had alerted more of their number. Now the light of many torches grew brighter as a horde was upon them. Nero turned to a door that was on the wall and ducked behind it, with the others following. They pressed their backs to the wall, listening to the thunder of footsteps down the corridor beyond as the bandits grew closer, then began to recede.

"We are gravely outnumbered here," Bakota said, "and the valiance of a warrior will change that not. We surely have little time before these men return - and then we shall be trapped like rats. They know of our presence, and they shall seek us, surely."

"Hold," Samira said then. "My master did teach me a spell to cast silence, such that not a sound may leave a room no matter what is spoken within it. He oft cast it upon his workshop, so that his neighbors would not be disturbed during the day. Methinks that shall help mask our presence here, and then these men shall not think to look."

"It's as good a plan as any," Nero mused, rubbing his chin. Then he nodded to the girl. "Do as you must."

Samira lowered her head and clasped her hands before her, and muttered an incantation. All around them a faint mist rose up from the ground, and they could feel a breeze; it tousled the dust beneath them and sent it fluttering into the air for just a moment, but then all was still.

"Did it work?" Erdrick asked her.

"It surely did. I can feel it so," Samira replied.

Nero let out a hearty laugh. "Then we need whisper no longer!" he bellowed. Citomer tensed, fearing yet the bandits would find them, but as the apprentice promised, not a sound escaped the chamber. "With this," the warrior said, "we've plenty of time to plan."

As their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the place, they could see it had been used as a storeroom, and the floor was heaped with barrels and jars. There were sacks of flour and grain, and racks of swords and shields, and chests and boxes. Seeing this, a smile broke across Erdrick's face. "Fortune favors us today," sang he, "for in hiding we have discovered their treasury."

He pulled down one of the chests, and within it was piled high with golden coins and jewels and other treasures. Greedily he shoveled the riches into his bag. Nero pushed him aside. "Hold, boy," he cried, "you are not the only one of us who seeks wealth in this place!"

"Worry not, Nero!" he called. "There are many chests and caches here. You may have this other one." He lifted a heavy box and passed it to Nero. With his strength the weight mattered little to him, though a clicking noise could be heard from within.

Samira turned to him, her eyebrow raised. "This seems amiss," she warned.

Yet Nero's lust for gold could not be quenched, and he had already thrust open the chest. Like the other, it was laden with many riches, but these were safeguarded with deceit, for as the hinges opened they did turn a needle that pierced a bladder concealed within the lid. From thence there issued a thick vapor that came pouring from the sack, and where it rose in the air it stung at their eyes and caused them to cough and wheeze.

"A pox on the cowards!" Nero cursed. "They have held us here, and at the mercy of their traps!"

Lo, there were no windows upon the wall, and they had shut the door behind them. Soon the fog would consume them. But Erdrick was grasped by inspiration, and he snatched up the chest in his mighty arms. With a swing of his leg he kicked open the door, and beyond it there were more bandits who roared in rage, brandishing axe and sword and spear. Yet the son of Ortega knew no fear, and he tossed the still-billowing chest into their phalanx, where the fog rose up and consumed them, and all collapsed with hacking gasps.

"Flee, now," he called, "before the smoke is upon us!" And he hurried back into the corridor, and the others followed him. There did they come to a set of stairs that wound upward along the edge of the tower. Upon the third floor they found an archway flanked by two old columns, and there the light of the sun flooded in; coming up from the darkness below they shielded their eyes against its light. Here the stone walls opened onto a balcony, which wound around the tower's girth.

The travelers had only set foot on the balcony for a short moment before six more brigands came charging around the corner, and in their lead was a black-bearded man with a red cloak trailing behind him; he bellowed a war-cry as he hefted his spear and prepared to run Erdrick through. Yet he was met with a strike from the boy's sword, for Erdrick did duck beneath his thrust and run him through the gut, and there he fell slumped below. Citomer swung his mace for another bandit, and crushed his skull beneath his blow. Nero parried the strike of one foe, who wore the segmented mail of a Romalian soldier, and then swung for his neck, striking his head from his shoulders. Bakota slung a whip of stiff and braided leather for the ankles of the latter three, and they were struck off their feet, falling from the balcony and plummeting to the ground below.

Citomer leaned then against the parapets. "This would surely be a task lest daunting, had we not alerted their men to our presence."

"Mayhaps you are right," spake Nero, "but the shedding of blood pleases Estark on this day."

"Estark would be equally pleased, warrior, if it was your blood that was shed by these men."

Erdrick looked about him then. From the balcony the tower rose in two turrets, one a single story higher than the other, and capped with a conical roof; the other was squat and flat-topped with crenulations. A gargoyle leered at them from above, beneath a corbel that adorned the roof of the latter turret. Each turret bore a heavy oaken door before them. "Which," he asked, "do you suppose we take first?"

Samira crouched by the door on the shorter turret, and Bakota by the one that graced the taller one. "I hear nothing behind this door," the mage said.

Bakota rose and returned to his companions. "From that door," he explained, "I hear the voices of men. Guards await us."

"Then we shall go this way," Erdrick said, "and there we shall catch them unaware, for they are surely prepared for a direct attack."

He pushed open the door into the shorter turret, but there the doorway peered into an inky blackness. There were not even any torches on the walls, as there were on the floors below. He began to stride further when he stumbled on something beneath his foot; lo, nearly did he trip and loose his balance. But he produced another torch, and there in its light did he see what he had tripped upon was a man's thigh-bone, for all around him lay mouldering skeletons, and the floor was awash in dust and cobwebs.

"By the Nine Gods," Samira mused, "what happened here?"

Erdrick raised a hand then, for in the darkness he heard something. He looked up. The turret's ceiling was a high one that extended further beyond the blackness. He could see, in the torchlight, the beams that had once supported a wooden floor, but that floor had rotten away, and only a few planks remained, chewed by insects. But beyond those, still in the shadows, came the sounds of something chewing and slavering.

Citomer began to step back toward the door. "Methinks perhaps the guards may not be so daunting after all. May Estark guide thee, Nero!"

But then, from out of the shadows there dropped something. A bone struck the floor just beside Erdrick's sandaled foot. It was well-gnawed and covered in saliva, and bits of meat clung still to its shaft. At that, Citomer screamed.

Samira spun back to face the pilgrim with a glower. "By the size of that bone," she said, "it cannot be that of a man. The haunch of a sheep, it looks like."

But then came a sound like a flutter, and the beating of wings. Erdrick jumped aside as something dropped from above them. He could only barely see it in the torchlight. It was like a man, but taller - it was gaunt and long-limbed, as though someone had taken a man and stretched him. The limbs were impossibly long, the flesh pallid and stretched thinly over protruding ribs. But he had but fleeting seconds to study the thing before it let loose a shriek and lunged for him.

Erdrick readied his shield, blocking the creature just as it was about to strike him. It lashed out with claws, kicking at him with its taloned feet, but it could not pierce the scale-mail he wore. The light could illuminate the beast's visage, and it was like a man's, too, but gaunt, with a sharp chin and jutting cheekbones. Its maw was lined with sharp fangs, and its eyes a milky white. The nose was flat and upturned, with slit-like nostrils piercing into a starkly white face. A pair of tall, pointed ears rose atop its hairless head.

The boy stabbed at it again and again with his sword, but the creature moved swiftly, darting around his strikes. It leaped back through the air, and the sound of fluttering could be heard from above. He rushed ahead, but the creature was not where he had seen it last. It was only a moment later that it descended again behind him. There, in the glimpses he saw in the light of his companions' torches, he could see what gave the strange beast its agility. Its arms, long and gangly, extended to the ground, and it scratched at the dust with gnarled bony fingers. But stretched from finger to armpit was a thin black membrane, and when the beast lunged for Nero, darting beneath the strokes of his blade, it flapped its arms to glide on the wind. It was a thing that was not a man, and not a bat, but like the two combined, mishappen and horrid.

The man-bat released another shriek and lunged for Erdrick again. He tossed his shield to the ground, so as not to be burdened by it, and fell to roll across the floor beneath its charge. Citomer called upon Rubiss to guide his aim, yet as he swung for the creature its wing-talons did strike aside the torch in his hand, and it clattered to the ground. Bakota tossed his boomerang through the air and struck the beast in the back, and it bellowed in pain, but lashed out with its foot to swat the torch from his hand as well. With every torch that fell, the darkness closed in around them, as though the walls of the chamber were narrowing.

"It's going for the torches!" Bakota cried. "We cannot hope to fight off a creature so swift in the darkness!"

"I know what I must do!" Samira called. "Lo, your torches are not the only thing that may cast light!" She clapped her hands together - and there, a great blaze leaped from her fingers. For a flash it lit up the entire turret in warm hues, and then they could see all around them. At once, the man-bat let out a louder cry, and its wings beat wildly at the air as it ascended higher, away from the fire. By the time the flames vanished, all was silent; even the slavering from above had ceased.

"It seems," Erdrick muttered, "that for as frightful a creature as this, it fears fire."

"There is nothing of value here," Bakota huffed. "I suppose that if we are to face Kandar, we must investigate the other door.

Erdrick met that notion with a scoff. "After the beast we have just bested," he said, "I see not how Kandar will threaten us. Do as you will."

Chapter Text

As Erdrick descended from the tower of the dread man-bat, his companions flocked to his side. Citomer raised his hands, aglow with the golden light of healing magic. "Are you wounded?"

"Nay," the young warrior said then, tossing his head as he raised a hand to beckon Citomer back. "Swift as the thing may have been, it was not able to harm me."

Samira took hold of his arm as she rushed to his side. "Pray tell you mean what you say. Ahead we face a greater challenge yet. I wish not to see you lead yourself to your doom."

To this Erdrick shook his head. "If we could best that beast, what could any mere man do to us?"

With a defiant cry, he charged the door of the taller turret with the pointed roof, and with a swing of his sandaled foot he kicked it straight open. He came to a staircase that spiraled upward along the walls, and atop it he came to a door, peering into a room where a long table was sat in the middle, upon a scarlet rug. Broad-shouldered men in brigandine and studded leathers were seated around it, their hollow cheeks and bushy beards lit by the light of candles set along the table's length. Swords and maces and flails were set upon the table and piled beside chairs around it, but the men were unarmed; their hands instead clutched the legs of chickens, and tankards of ale.

A grin then came to Erdrick's face, and he turned to Nero. "Behold this," he whispered. "We have caught them in a moment of rest, and we shall be upon them with an ambush. Lo, many a man shall be slain on this day before they can gather their arms."

Before a single word could be said further, Erdrick charged ahead, rushing up the stairs with his blade flashing. He roared a battle cry, but as he did the bandits jumped from their seats. In a panic they hurried across the room, to another set of stairs opposite the entrance. Erdrick leaped upon the table, swinging his sword in his path, but the last of the bandits had already withdrawn.

"Cowards and fools!" he bellowed, kicking a candlestick from the table in his fury. "An Aliahanian would stand and fight, by Estark's blade!"

Nero laughed, coming up behind him. "You were the one who wished to ambush them in their moment of rest, O glorious general's son."

Erdrick said nothing, but marched ahead to the staircase the rogues had escaped through. There, he came to the highest level of Shampan Tower. The high-vaulted ceiling here was supported by great arches, and the windows that gazed out upon the plains flooded the room with the sun's light; beneath them, a chipped mosaic of the sun in his splendor was laid in many-colored tiles, with a painted face upon a panel of wood in the middle. Bakota raised a hand to shield his eyes from the brightness. But Erdrick could see ahead of him, and he could see that amidst the men who had fled the dining hall stood Kandar, the King of the Bandits.

He was a hulking man, tall and broad-shouldered, such that he could look down upon even Erdrick. His features were thickly cut, as though hewn from stone, with cold blue eyes and a chin awash in stubble. His dark hair was wind-tousled and wild. He wore a green cloak about his shoulders, and beneath that a gleaming cuirass of bronze sculpted with rippling muscles. His arms were bare, save for steel bracers upon each forearm, which revealed the sinews of his limbs. About his waist was a great broad belt with a silver boss at its center; below it hung a kilt of thick fur, and upon his feet were sandals bound with leather straps. In his hand, he clutched a wicked-looking axe with a chipped blade that had borne witness to many battles. Alongside him there stood three of his finest warriors, who stood at his guard, dressed in armor of steel and bronze, with the feathers of peacocks in their visored casques. Lo, that was a man who had faced many foes, and none of those foes could equal his might.

"There, behold!" spake one of the brigands. "The intruders come!"

Kandar bellowed a laugh, and his booming voice echoed from the high ceiling above. "I am impressed these dogs made it this far, 'neath my nose! But the great King of the Bandits is no one's to catch, and not yours!"

"I come bearing the word of Antoninus Tarquinian Septimus, King of Romaly," Erdrick decreed. "Upon his royal honor, you shall surrender the golden laurel your thieving ways have claimed!"

"I surmised as much," the Bandit King grumbled. Then he strode forward, standing tall before them. "Then come and get it!"

The five travelers advanced, but one of the bandits turned a lever that was on the wall. It pulled at a rope and turned a winch, and that rope opened the wooden panel upon the floor at the site of the sun's face. It was a trap door - and the moment the intruders set foot upon it, they descended through a pit, hurtling toward the table of the dining hall below.

Bakota tucked in his head and rolled across the floor with a cat's grace, and he came to his feet unharmed. Nero fell upon the floor, catching himself upon his feet and one palm. Citomer, pious as he was, was not favored by fortune, and fell upon his face with the sound of a smack, to Nero's laughter. Erdrick caught himself on his feet upon the table - and then he looked up as Samira fell after him, reaching up to catch her. The girl gasped as she fell into his strong arms, but he did set her down a moment thereafter, for the sound of footsteps did echo behind them.

"The bastard!" Nero bellowed. "He dares not fight us man to man! He disorients us - and while we struggle, he sends his fellows to hunt us!"

"You can stand and fight for us, can you not?" Citomer huffed. "Methinks if the two warriors hold the door, and deal with the bandits one by one, we can still win."

But Erdrick shook his head. "Nay. I have a better idea - and I will need Samira's aid."

"Me?" The mage tilted her head toward him. "Whatever may I do that should help thee?"

But already the brigands were upon them, swords drawn and bellowing the chants of war. "I have no time to explain," Erdrick said, "only that we must hurry!"

He ran to the stairs downward then. Taking frantic steps he descended them by twos, fearing not if he should fall. The bandits chased them still. "Is this your great idea, boy?" Citomer cried. "All that talk of might and boldness to run away?"

"You are hardly anyone to judge such things," Bakota grumbled.

Returning to the parapet, Erdrick then turned and faced the turret where he had done battle with the man-bat. He paused then, waiting until the brigands had left the taller turret, and there he called to his fellows. "Now, stand behind me!"

The others circled behind him - and there Erdrick gripped the door and cast it open, blocking them behind it. Then, he called thus to Samira: "Set your fire now!"

It was in that moment that the girl knew the plan he spoke of. As the bandits were upon them, she conjured a flame within her palm and hurled it into the dark recesses of the chamber beyond. That flame expanded, crackling and roaring. Shortly behind there came the screech of the fire-fearing man-bat. It swooped down from its perch, fleeing the blaze that filled its heart with such terror, and descended upon the bandits just outside. They turned and tried to flee, but the beast's great speed was too much for them. It snatched them up in its claws, dragging them back into the darkness.

As the door swang shut, and the screams of the brigands dwindled into silence, Erdrick wiped sweat from his brow. "That matter is dealt with. Now we face Kandar."

Like a flash he took off for the taller turret. Again he ascended the stairs, returning to the top, where he confronted the Bandit King. His guards were at his side still, and they had tied a rope to the battlements of the turret, prepared to descend to the ground below. But the travelers had accosted them before they could make such an escape. One of Kandar's men called to him, but the brigand needed no warning. He hefted the mighty axe from his shoulder and marched forward.

"You lot have dogged me enough!" he cried. "I shall hear you all beg for mercy!"

But the son of Ortega knew no fear, and he pointed his blade for Kandar's throat. "In the name of the Eternal Swordsman, I shall stand and fight, or I shall die to your axe."

"That is an oath I'll see that you keep," Kandar sneered.

Though a man of great heft he was, Kandar moved with swiftness as he descended upon the boy. He gripped the haft of his axe in both hands, lifting it high above his head before he swung it straight downward. But Erdrick too was swift, for he did circle to the side, and lo, the axe fell upon the floor below. To his right, one of the armored guards ran for Nero, and swords and shields did clash as the two warriors circled, trading blows. To his left, another rushed Citomer. The pilgrim narrowly dodged from side to side around each swipe of his blade, slowly backing up against the wall behind him. Then the final bandit ran at Bakota and Samira, and the two of them lunged out of the way of his charge, though they knew their thoughts must be quick, for they were not the steady warriors their companions were.

"Hah!" Kandar scoffed. "You are not the first the King has sent to collect my bounty, but you shall not be the last. Your heads will adorn the tower like those who did come before you!"

He swung again for Erdrick, and again the boy rolled to the side. As Kandar collected the axe up in his hands again, Erdrick ran closer, his blade flashing, yet Kandar raised an arm; with the same motion he withdrew his axe with, he blocked the strike against his bracer, then swung for Erdrick. He caught him in the arm, tearing a gash in his skin. The Aliahanian bellowed a pained roar as the blood trickled from his wound. He had abandoned his shield in the lair of the man-bat below, and his only savior now would be the swiftness of his feet.

Nero parried his opponent's blow, lunging closer with an overhead strike, yet his sword would bounce against the bandit's helmet. He would then be met by a stab in the side, which splintered his chain-mail and punctured his flank. Roaring with rage, he swung his shield for the bandit's head, and the clash echoed like a cymbal. As the brigand staggered back, Nero swept his sword lower, and his foe's head was struck from his body with a mighty cleave through his neck.

"Dare you honor your warrior's promise, boy?" Kandar grumbled. "Or do you now know fear, seeing what such boldness has won thee?"

Erdrick looked up at his foe, panting. Yet his dark eyes narrowed in a glare. "If the wyrd wills me to die on this day, then lo, let it be with sword in hand!" He charged for Kandar again, his sword raised for a stab. The Bandit King swung for him, but Erdrick was quicker; he leaped off his feet in a dash forward, and his blade struck for Kandar's chest, only to bounce off the side of his brazen cuirass.

Citomer was pushed back against the wall now, and the bandit he faced was gaining upon him. He lifted a sword, with a wicked blade that curved like a flame, and prepared to run the pilgrim through. Citomer's trembling hands gripped the shaft of his mace tighter, awaiting his end - but it was then that divine inspiration took hold of him. He lifted one hand, and a vivid light shone from within, flashing into the bandit's eyes. The man went staggering backwards, blinded and clutching at his face, yet before he could withdraw, Citomer did swing his mace into the back of his skull, knocking him against the window. With another swift strike from behind, he was upended, plummeting from the parapets.

Erdrick was still gathering up his blade when Kandar met him with a shove of his booted foot. He fell to the ground, skidding across the sun-mosaic that decorated the floor. "You are beginning to test my patience, boy," the man hissed. "Your luck cannot last forever."

"It is not luck that guides me," came his response, "for I am the son of Aliahan's greatest general, and I have studied the blade-arts since my youth! And lo, it is I who prosper under the guidance of the gods, for you are a man with a legacy of cruelty and plunder behind your name, and the divinities sneer upon thee!"

"Yet no god is surer than my axe!" Kandar swung his blade straight down then, aiming its arc for Erdrick's head. But he rolled aside, and then did he sweep a kick at Kandar's gut. It was not strong enough to upend the mighty man, but stumble back he did yet, and Erdrick then leaped to his feet.

Bakota, swift of foot, jumped away from the arc of the bandit's sword. Samira then rushed in front of him, casting her arms at her sides. "Stay back! Prithee, stay back!" she cried.

"What madness is this?" the thief called. "Suppose you that he shall heed your word?"

But Samira shook her head. "Nay, Bakota - I call for you to stay back."

"A frail maiden like you, against a man so fierce?"

Samira said nothing, for her mind was fixed in focus. She cast her hands forward, and the bandit's ears were filled with a ringing that drowned out the world around him. He cried in pain, dropping his sword and buckler to the ground as he fell to his knees and clutched his head. Then, Samira raised a finger, and a bolt of fire leaped forward, consuming the man and wreathing him in flames. He dropped to the floor and rolled to try to quell the blaze, but his armor encased the heat like an oven, and he soon fell silent.

Kandar was now the only among his number that still lived, yet as he witnessed the carnage around him, he scoffed. "Your fellows are slayers and masters of the blade, yet you still struggle against me, boy. I could not have asked for a fight so trivial as this!"

"Hah! What you know not," Erdrick said, "is that my companions are not so burdened with your ilk now."

Indeed, Citomer chanted an incantation, and a golden light ran across Erdrick's arm. The wound upon it closed, and he surged with a newfound strength. Again he stabbed for Kandar, and his blade cut a gash in his thigh. He swung again, striking his shoulder. The frenzy of battle did take him, and fight with fervor he did. But as he swung a third time, so too did Kandar, and their weapons clashed. So great was that strike that Erdrick's sword was knocked from his hand, and went flying across the room.

"Behold! Now you are unarmed!" Kandar exclaimed, storming toward Erdrick. Once more did he heft his great axe in two hands, poised to bring it down upon him like the stroke of a smith's hammer. The boy beheld the blade as it descended faster and faster. His companions were still too far to reach him before Kandar's weapon met its mark. Yet then was he grasped by the memory of what Samira had taught him. With a roar, he thrust forth his empty hand, and a great flame did shoot thence toward Kandar.

Fear gripped the great Bandit King. He roared, jumping backward to avoid the raging fire. His cloak caught sparks and embers. But in his moment of panic he did drop his guard, and then Nero charged closer. The Romalian warrior swung with a strong arm, aiming for Kandar's head. The bandit swerved backward, seeking to avoid the mighty blow, yet he could not slip free of its arc, and Nero did cut a great bloody wound that ran diagonally across his face, from the corner of his right eye to the left corner of his mouth.

Kandar's body seized with pain. The axe dropped from his hand, and he fell to his knees, clutching his face as blood ran down his fingers. "Mercy!" he cried. "I beseech thee, by Rubiss, mercy!"

Nero was unmoved by the bandit's words. He stood tall above him, his sword held above his head as he prepared to bring it downward. But Erdrick saw this, and there he paused. He had dreamed of a life of blood and glory, of slaying his foes and trampling their skulls beneath his feet, of hoisting horns of mead to the doom of his rivals. Yet when he saw Kandar beseech Nero for mercy, though he knew of his wicked deeds, this was not an end he longed for.

Erdrick stepped forward then, and laid a hand upon Nero's muscled arm. "Hold," he said, "for why should we slay a foe who surrenders?"

Nero turned to face him. "Are you mad, boy? The King of the Bandits is a wicked one, who has taken the life of many a man. He has harried the King's legions and brought forth misery upon the land. He would gladly have us all slain without a second thought. Why, then, does he deserve our mercy, when he has none to spare?"

Erdrick cleared his throat, looking between Nero and Kandar. "We were sent by the King not to bring him the bandit's head, but to retrieve the crown. Surely Kandar will offer what we ask, now, in exchange for his life. We have what we seek, lo, we need not ask for more."

"But will he not merely go on to menace more innocent folk?" Citomer mused.

"With what on his side?" spake Erdrick. "Behold this, his men are all dead. And he shall not gather more, for he will surely be recognized everywhere for the scar now upon his face, and all will know his lot is one of devilry. If we let him live, he poses no threat. What more may we bring ourselves through his death but a fleeting satisfaction?"

Upon that, Kandar did bow his head to the floor. "I bless your forgiveness, O warrior!"

"Ho, and may you never forget the name of Erdrick of Aliahan!" the boy cried.

Kandar rose upon shaky feet. From one of his fallen comrades he did retrieve a bag, and from that he pulled a laurel wrought of gold, the very same crown that had adorned the heads of the kings of Romaly in ages past. Erdrick looked upon the prize, and a smile crossed his face, for lo, he had succeeded where the legions of the King could not.

Kandar then turned to leave, with Nero and Citomer close at his sides, and Bakota behind. But Erdrick stayed behind then with Samira. The apprentice gasped for air, looking down at the floor, as though a great fatigue did take her.

"Are you well?" Erdrick asked her.

"Never did I think that my magic would be turned to take a man's life," she said. Her eyes flit nervously about the room, wishing not to rest upon his.

Erdrick gently laid a hand upon her shoulder, and she raised her head to face him. "Were it not for your magic," he said, "we should all be dead. For it was the spell of fire that you taught me that allowed me to fight even without my blade at my side, and let Nero strike the final blow."

Slowly, the girl's breaths calmed. She nodded her head, blinking a tear from her eye.

"This power," Erdrick continued, "is like none that I have witnessed yet. Will you show me more that you know?"

"I will," Samira said with a nod. "Yet I know not all the magic in this world. There are still spells that my master has only spoken of in whispers, and I doubt not there are others yet that were never known to his mind, awaiting discovery."

"And perhaps we shall learn those arts yet," Erdrick said, "if we walk this world."

Samira took his hand in hers, clutching it tighter. "Yes. I want to go with you, Erdrick.

After they departed from the tower, the five travelers followed the roads back to the great gates of Romaly, and there they were led back to the King's throne, with the crown in tow. "My liege," Erdrick said as he kneeled before the gilt throne, "it is thine crown I now bring thee." And he presented the golden laurel; lo, it was as though it sparkled in the shafts of the sun that flooded through the collonades.

Antoninus's weathered features softened, and his smile spread wider. Yet it was but a moment later that he cast down a sullen gaze.

"My liege," said Nero, "what is it that ails thee now? Do we not present that same crown you have called for?"

"If I allowed this crown - this symbol of the power of Romaly - to fall into such wicked hands, it is no honor I deserve, " replied Antoninus. "I have failed in my duties to great Romalia. There is but one man in this room who is worthy of this laurel, and it is Erdrick the Aliahanian, who did answer my call in a time of need, and who braved such danger, and who did bring an end to the terrible reign of wicked Kandar."

"You mean you intend to make me King?" Erdrick asked.

"I speak with the authority as he who reigns over the greatest empire upon this land," the King continued. "I can imagine none more worthy."

With that, he took the crown and rose from his throne. Erdrick bowed his head, and with a gentle touch, Antoninus laid it upon his brow. "Upon this day, thou shalt rule Romaly as I could not, and guide us to a great Age!"

Chapter Text

Lo, six years did pass from that day - six years that Erdrick the Aliahanian did sit upon the throne of Romalia, and he ruled that great empire as a fair and just king. Though his youthful fire was yet about him, he was surrounded with the greatest thinkers from all the empire that were his advisors, and he was trained in the arts of thought and philosophy, of wisdom and strategy and rhetoric. It was under his rule that a temple of great Ramia was erected in Romaly, upon the Hill of the Setting Sun, which stands yet to this day. Now the boy had grown into a man of twenty-two years. Even in the peace of his reign he had trained his sword-arm, and he still cut a well-muscled frame. He still wore his dark hair long, in the fashion of the Aliahanians, beneath the golden laurel of Romaly, and a short-cropped beard girded his chin. The six years that are yet recorded in the great table of kings were years of peace. Yet for all he sat untroubled on the throne, Erdrick still yearned for the days of blood and glory his father had known.

It was upon the Day of the Owl in the Month of the Lion, in the year that was by the Alefgardic Reckoning the second year of the reign of Lars I the Despondent, that Erdrick did see to the festivities of the Day of the City - the anniversary of the founding of great Romaly. He had led the high priests in their sacrifices to the Nine Gods, and as the sun set over the horizon he had called his court to a grand feast. He sat before a table in the violet robes of rulership, and upon the table were piled dishes of gold and silver. At the center of the banquet sat the roast head of a boar, rubbed with bay and rosemary, and around it were olives and figs, bread and cheese, and scores of dishes that spoke to the great empire's wealth - honey-baked pigeons, cakes of pistachioes from the eastern steppes, lamb served in pepper from far Baharata, stewed split beans from Isis, and lemon-braised octopus fished from the Inland Sea. Slaves ran between the seats, refilling goblets with wine from great jugs, scattering rose petals upon the courtiers, and strumming the lyre to fill the halls with lilting tunes. And two nubile concubines from the royal harem did sit beside the King, their slender arms about his shoulders as he hefted a jeweled goblet of spiced and honeyed wine.

"Hah! Look at that, boy," Nero cried, for that warrior had earned a place in Erdrick's court, raised to the ranks of his personal guard; he bore the purple cloak and the black cuirass of his status. "only two women on a night like this? You're falling behind!"

Nero sat upon Erdrick's right side, and to his left was Citomer, who had been honored as his chaplain and bore the draped white robes of Romaly. He rolled his eyes as he lifted a honey-cake to his plate, dipping his fingers into a golden bowl of perfumed water brought forth by one of the table-slaves. Samira was there also, for Erdrick did name her among his advisors, and had studied under her in the arts of magic in those years; she looked to the women at the King's lap and let out a slow sigh. Bakota joined them not, for even he could not see a thief's place among the halls of the great palace. Though Erdrick had granted him a room in honor of his loyalty, he had chosen instead to ply his trade as a locksmith in the city, and had spent the last six years in honest industry.

"Hark! How now, my liege!" cried then the voice of Pietro, jester to the royal court. Dressed in a fool's motley, he leaped from his seat and cartwheeled across the floor, to the sounds of a few cheers and claps from the noble guests. A two-tailed cap of white adorned his head, with a ringing bell at each of the points, and upon his face he wore a black mask that went about his eyes. A short white cape patterned in red and blue lozenges encircled his throat; beneath it he wore a tabard striped in black and green above hose particolored in black and yellow, and his shoes came to a point at the toe. "We celebrate upon this day another year that great Romaly has stood - and long may it stand yet!"

"Lo, long may it stand yet!" so echoed the voices of all at the table, who raised their goblets.

"A time for merriment, this is! What, ho!" Pietro called. "Let us all be wineskins 'fore this night is over!" With a twirl of his cape he produced a set of golden balls, and there he juggled them in the air with great swiftness and speed, tossing them from one hand to the other. All watched with rapt attention as he made each move, until he took one ball unto his hand and tossed it into his face, striking him about the head. He dropped each ball and fell to his back, to the court's laughter and cheers.

"Aye, Pietro - as fine a wit of yours as ever!" Erdrick called.

The jester sat back up. "Now, O king, tell us again the tale of thy victory over the accursed Kandar! Let us all sing of it again!"

"You yearn for my tales? Pietro, I cannot count how many times they've heard such a story!" Erdrick laughed, but then he did rise to his feet and set his goblet upon the table. There all did turn to him, for as much as they were spellbound by the jester's mirth, they were enthralled more still by the valiant deeds of their mighty King, who had won his seat upon the throne through heroic exploits and great strength of arms. Pietro leaned closer, for of all the men of Erdrick's court, it was his heart that thrilled most at his master's tales.

Yet Erdrick, too, could not help but smile as he recounted that duel with the lord of Shampan Tower, for that was a battle worthy of the honors of the finest fyrdmen to sit at his own King's side at the Eormenberg. Perhaps, he thought, his great deeds had won him the throne of the greatest empire in all the world. And yet, no matter how much he indulged his passions in wine and women and the songs of minstrels, Erdrick could not help but find something he missed in his tales of roaming the roads, of camping beneath the starry sky, and watching the far horizon from over the crest of every hill.

When he was finished, Pietro did clasp his hand to his heart. "Mayhap one day a hero as great as thee shall rise from our ranks. Mayhap that shall even be I!" The courtiers laughed and cheered once more as that fool held a hand to his head, and he thus swooned and fell to the floor.

Erdrick sat back down, taking a long drink from his goblet. Yet then it was that the doors of the great hall swung open. In strode Marcus Quintus, general of the Eighteenth Legion, who was among Erdrick's most trusted advisors and who had schooled him in the arts of war. He had departed a month before for the kingdom's frontier, and only now did his men return to the shining capital.

"Aye! You join us now, Marcus?" Erdrick spake. "Come! Sit at the table, and rejoice!"

But the general took no place at his side, for instead he fell to his knee and bowed his head. "My liege," said he, "I speak these words with regret, but it is not joyful tidings I bring. Yet, I wish not to disturb such merriment as this, on such a blessed day. May I seek your audience in private?"

"You may," the King said. He rose from his seat, leaving the cheers of the great hall behind him as he followed Marcus out a door and through one of the many-columned porticoes that lined the grounds of the palace. There the sky was behued in the orange of the setting sun, and the long shadows of the pillars were cast upon the flagstones beneath their feet. At last, they were in silence once again.

"Tell me, Marcus," Erdrick continued, "what is the matter of your coming?"

"I bring word from the governor of the province of Norvicum, my liege. All word from Noaniels - the northernmost settlement of any significant size in our kingdom - has suddenly ceased. The trading posts to the south have not received the shipments of lumber that Noaniels has long provided them with nary a delay, and no warning has been issued by the townspeople of any threat."

Erdrick stroked his chin as he walked along the path. "The lumber from Norvicum is what our shipwrights rely on to sustain our fleet."

"Indeed, my liege - and if this supply is interrupted, our navy will be unhappy."

"That is something I cannot allow," said Erdrick, "for our navy has long fueled our presence in the Romalian Sea. They have guarded us against roving pirates and safeguarded trade with Isis and beyond. Should I fall out of favor with the admirals, we risk ceding the seas to the Portogans. Have we any idea of what could bring about such an interruption?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nay, my liege - only the sea lies beyond Norvicum."

Erdrick raised a hand. "If it is not a threat from beyond our borders, it is a threat from within them. Forget ye not that Norvicum is a far-flung province blanketed in forest, and not even the most adept of hunters could chart a course through every trail. All manner of things may be lurking there. Bandits, mayhaps, or even beast-men; raiding parties our scouts have not documented. And, I am told, Noaniels is not far from an elven glade."

"Yet the elves have not harried our people before."

"Any truce, Marcus, lasts only until it is disturbed. You have taught me as much." Erdrick cleared his throat then. "Surely, then, you intend to dispatch your legion to secure the province."

"That would be so, my liege - but my men have just returned from a long journey, and they are restless. To send them as far as Noaniels would spark a mutiny. What of the other legions? You surely have men to spare."

Erdrick shook his head. "What good is it to dispatch a thousand men to the ends of the empire, if we do not know what they will find there? If it is only Noaniels that is affected, it cannot be a problem warranting such a response. Not if we risk cutting off access to an entire legion for a pointless errand. I need but five men for this task."

"Five men?" Marcus looked to his king aghast. "For such a long journey? What if they desert, or are lost along the way? We surely need more than that."

"And we shall have that." Erdrick stroked a finger along his beard. "The five men are but auxillaries. Nero, Citomer, Samira, and myself shall go to Noaniels with them - I only need five more provided to form a cohort."

"Yourself!" The general shook his head. "Nay, my liege! You dare not risk your life this way! If anything should happen to thee, Romalia shall be without a king."

Erdrick turned to face the setting sun. "Then that is a danger I shall accept. I have faith in my sword-arm, and I have faced tasks more daunting than this with nary a bead of sweat upon my brow. Upon my honor as King, I shall see to it that whatever threatens Noaniels shall be addressed. Truthfully, life at the palace had begun to bore me," he added with a laugh.

"Understood." Marcus clasped a fist to his chest. Not since his battle against Kandar had Erdrick thus sought adventure and peril. Yet, Marcus Quintus too had bore witness to his liege's tales of great deeds, and he knew too he was as sharp as ever. If any could conquer this threat, it would be Erdrick the Aliahanian.

"Then we shall make preparations tomorrow, and leave upon the next day," Erdrick decreed, turning back to the door. "But we cannot forget there is a banquet to attend to!"

It was upon the morning of that second day from the Day of the City that Erdrick and his companions assembled in the triumphal square of Romaly. All around them, the townspeople gathered, watching their King with reverence. He sat astride a white stallion, and he wore gilt scale-mail that glittered in the sun beneath a scarlet cloak. A shield hung at his side, emblazoned with the two-headed eagle that marked the arms of Romalia, gold upon a red field. He had left the golden crown behind him, lest it be again lost, but the silver circlet he wore upon his brow, inset with a gleaming emerald, spoke yet of his noble bearing. Behind him, Nero sat upon his own steed, dressed in the black plate of the royal guard, and Citomer was attired in segmented armor upon a layer of chain, fastening the strap of his helmet about his chin. Five soldiers dressed in the scarlet and steel of the legions rode behind them, all of them facing the horizon stoically. It was only Samira among them who was not mounted, for she stood alongside Nero and Citomer's horses, dressed in simple green robes and leaning upon an oaken staff, with a globe of ruby inset at its tip.

"People of Romaly," the King proclaimed, "long have you been led by a man who laughed at his duties, and let his very crown be lost to you. But I shall not rule with such folly. I am of the Aliahanians, and our people believe valor is the heart of a warrior! I shall not let six years at this palace soften my heart and temper my spirit. I shall go forth, and see it myself that this evil that threatens our empire be pacified!"

A cheer followed him as he rode out onto the road, passing beneath the great triumphal arches that lined the path. "A fine speech indeed, boy," Nero chuckled, riding up at Erdrick's side. "I suppose all those years with the philosophers couldn't get the Aliahanian out of you yet."

"I would hope," Citomer answered, "that he at least learned something."

Erdrick shook his head to all that. "If I have no choice but to be king over this land, that is a fate I shall accept. But even as a king, I will yet be a warrior. Nay, the glories of my youth did move my heart and my soul, and I would not trade those highs even for the coffers of every palace between here and Zipangu." As he rode out of the gates, the cheers of the citizens lining the streets slowly faded into silence, and there he did take a long breath of the air. "Ah, and see that - finally, fresh air, without the stench of habitation!"

Samira nodded her head as she walked along. "I would be pleased to see more of this land," she said. "I did not so hope that - with all the tales you told me, Erdrick - you would settle so soon after your journey just began."

"We are a long way from Aliahan," he said. "Long are we from anything so familiar. Yet, so too, every step we take into the distance is a step unto new discoveries, and new wonders! King over it though I may be, I should wish to see with mine own eyes just why this is the greatest empire in the world!"

Again they set out along the same paths they had walked to get to Shampan Tower, heading to the north. Erdrick's gaze fell longingly upon every farm and fort and roadside shrine they passed; in his mind he did recount how they had changed in the last six years, for there were now fields of vine and wheat where once there were only bushes, and the towns had grown since. Wherever they stopped they were met with a royal welcome, for it was an honor to be graced with the presence of the King's entourage. Antoninus had not so ventured from the palace, and the people beheld Erdrick with wonder and awe, as though they had laid eyes upon a god.

Yet even now there were wild-lands still, and as the ground grew hillier and the forests thicker, they still did need to make camp. It was four days since they had left Romaly that the sun had set over the forest they were in, and now the path ahead was lit only by whatever light of the moon and the stars yet peered through the gaps in the trees above. Erdrick led his men into a clearing, where they tethered the horses by a pond, and the soldiers did erect a tent, vividly colored in red and white and as broad across as one whole of the campsites they had made on their last journey. They gathered by a fire, sharing bread and wheat and wineskins, and Erdrick spake his stories long into the night before they retired to their tent.

Some time in the night, the silence was broken by the sound of a scream. Erdrick jumped up from his bedroll and looked around him. Nero and Citomer and Samira and the five legionaries were still there, all of them sleeping soundly, for they had been lulled by the wine they had shared, and he alone could hear the scream. He tensed then, yet he knew that the son of Ortega did feel no fear. He reached for his sword, laid upon the ground at his side, and took in his other hand a torch, lighting it as he stepped from the tent. The night was cool, and a soft breeze shook the branches of the trees about him. In the thick of the night, so far as this from any settlement, the darkness was absolute. Only the light of his torch could cast its glow upon the pallid trunks of the trees, which stood as stark as sentinels, arising from the darkness.

Every step he took was made with care. His eyes scanned the trees to the left and the right, watching for any disturbance. Then he heard another scream; it split the silence. It was closer, this time, and before him he heard the rustling of bushes. Taking off in a charge, the King did rush into the thick of the underbrush, and the glow of the flames from his torch glinted off his blade drawn before him.

As he came crashing into the grove beyond, Erdrick could see a figure moving in the torchlight, low and ambling upon all fours. Another sound pierced the air, but this was shriller and higher than the screams he had heard. This, he realized, was the cry of a wild boar, of the like he had heard on royal hunts. And as he cast the torch forward, he would see such a boar. Its tusks were long and cracked, and there was a manic look in its yellow eyes as its hooves pounded at a tree before him, screeching and squealing.

Erdrick strode forward and cast his torch in an arc before him; its flames did cast a warm light unto the clearing. The boar caught sight of them, and in its rage it spun to face Erdrick. It lowered its head with another bellow and rushed in a gallop, its hooves drumming against the earth. As it neared that great King its jaws were open wide, its teeth yellowed and its maw gaping. But Erdrick was ready, for then did he swing his sword downward in a mighty blow, catching the beast upon the top of its head. It fell back into the dirt, its legs kicking and flailing in the air in a desperate struggle before it fell still.

Thence came another cry - but this time, Erdrick heard a familiar voice. "Thank Rubiss you've come! Oh, blessed be Verina!"

The King lifted his head to the tree before him - that same tree the boar had accosted. Up in the branches was a young man, his face pale and glistening with a cold sweat. Erdrick narrowed his eyes as he studied the man's features. At first, he did not recognize the face he saw - but then, it dawned upon him the reason for thence, for those features were usually bound by hood and mask. The figure in the trees had left his motley behind him, yet he still wore the green and black tabard over the particolored hose, and the pointed shoes upon his feet.

"Pietro!?"

"My liege! Ah, my most gracious and glorious liege, how I welcome thee, I do!" Pietro at last descended from the tree, bowing before Erdrick. "Were it not for your blade - surely guided by the gods themselves - I would no doubt meet a most miserable end!"

"Pietro, what madness brings you here? Wherefore art thou not at the palace?" Erdrick sputtered.

"My liege," the jester continued, "I implore thy forgiveness. When I heard of thine great exploits, I simply could not just leave them to tales. Oh, how I yearned to live the life of a mighty warrior as great as thee - to take hold of destiny, and bend it to the shape I so desired with mine own two hands! When I heard that you were departing for Noaniels, I wished nothing more than to join you, among your number! Even if I was not among the select, I wished to walk in thy footsteps, and hence did I follow your trail!"

Erdrick let out a long sigh and shook his head. "And what, pray tell, shall you offer us for such a journey? Can you fight? Can you brave the dangers that lie ahead? Know you any of the lands beyond? You shall only doom yourself with this idle idiocy, for such travels as this should not be made so lightly. Hast thou even supplied thyself?"

"Unto this night, I faced nary a danger," Pietro said. "I followed where you had been, and asked of the people who had seen your goings. I lived off the land and off their generosity. Yet it was when I stopped here to search for chestnuts in the forest that my path did cross that boar's."

"Your luck shall only run out!" Erdrick cried. "You test it far! Return at once to Romaly, I decree, lest I return to find myself without a jester!"

Pietro shook his head then. "My liege," said he, "if I am to make the journey back, will I not only face dangers yet, as you warn of? Will I not risk mine life just as much as I may by going forward? Four days from Romaly are we, and should I turn back that is four days I may come face to face with fell misfortunes indeed. Yet, if I travel with thee, mayhaps I should be under the aegis of your mighty arm and your impregnable shield, O mighty one!"

"And why, then, should I not turn my path around backward, and escort you to the capital, and then continue on my quest?"

"Four days of travel are behind you yet. You would only invite four more - and lo, four beyond that, just to return to the spot you stand upon now! How far from here Noaniels lies I do not know, but it cannot be more than such a time wasted wouldd prove. And lo, suppose then I still wish for great adventure, and I still escape the palace with no king to watch over me! The only place I shall be safe, my liege, is at your back!"

Erdrick groaned then. "Lo, what I would not give to have a point against yours, Pietro, but I do not. I cannot but bid thee to follow us back to camp. We shall continue in the morning."

Pietro's eyes welled with tears of joy then. He threw himself upon the ground, weeping. "The greatest of bards cannot imagine words to express my gratitude! Oh, thank you so!"

As the King did turn and head back to his camp, he let out a groan, for he knew that the journey ahead would be a burdensome one. Lo, he thought, I've a fool and a gadabout for company!

Chapter Text

Erdrick regathered his men at the dawning of the sun, standing before Nero, Citomer, Samira, and the five soldiers with Pietro at his side. "Hark, my friends," he spake, "for we are joined by another."

"Pietro, the jester?" Samira regarded the fool with an incredulous face. "Whatever might he be up to out here?"

"Merely the pursuits of adventure and noble deeds that his majesty so seeks!" Pietro clasped his hand to his chest, bowing his head low. "I could not stand to hear his tales, and yet not breathe that same air; to tread that same ground beneath mine feet!" 

Citomer, unimpressed, crossed his arms. "If this is one of your jests, O fool, it amuses me not. This is a matter of important royal business."

Pietro shook his head. "On the contrary, chaplain, it is no jest indeed. You'll surely find that I am capable of a great many things that may serve us well on a journey as this!"

Nero grumbled under his breath. "Like what?"

"As a jester," said Pietro, "I know the calls of beasts and birds, and have mimicked them to the delight of many a guest - I may distract the beasts of the wilds, and lure game should we wish to hunt."

"Or signal our advance to highwaymen," the warrior retorted.

"I am a fine dancer - swift and nimble upon my feet!"

"When you do not trip on yourself."

"I think you will discover the same deft hands that have juggled balls can handle a blade just as nimbly!"

Nero scoffed. "I'll believe it when I see it." He strode over to face Erdrick, shoving Pietro aside as he turned to his liege. "What does the map say?"

Samira unrolled a map of the route before them. "Within the day," she said, "we shall come upon the town of Kazave, which is halfway between here and Noaniels, and is a trade center where caravans exchange their wares. We shall be able to rest and resupply ourselves there. Yet," she continued with a wavering tone, pointing to a pass further north as she bit her lip, "beyond that, we must face the Ultor Gap, which, as the rumors state, is guarded by a flock of great birds, large enough to carry off a man and his horse in one swoop. We must travel carefully."

Citomer cleared his throat. "Surely there is a safer way, is there not?"

"Safer, mayhap," said Erdrick, "but it shall be a longer route. Each day we spend upon the road is a day I am away from my palace, and the duties of a king. Besides," he added with a laugh, "I would wit that I may do battle with such great birds, and emerge triumphant!"

The priest shook his head, approaching Erdrick. "Please, milord, heed what I say! Should you be slain, then the people of Romalia shall have no King!"

Already, Erdrick had turned to his stallion, heaping it with saddle before alighting upon its back. "I fear it not, Citomer! Has e'er a foe before us stopped the son of Ortega? Nay!"

Samira hung closer to his side, laying a hand upon the horse's neck. "No foes you've faced before have been as great as this..."

But Nero cut in then, mounting his own steed. "I say let the boy have his fun! We've bait for the birds, have we not?" His gaze lingered on Pietro.

"We do?" Pietro turned to face Nero, though he said nothing.

At that, they were off. By the setting of the sun, the King's procession had come upon Kazave, which sat at a valley amidst the hills. A golden light washed over the fields and meadows before them, and in that setting sun the people had begun to descend from the fields and make their way home. Even at that hour, though, the coming of Erdrick's men was a time that the people rejoiced at, and they did flood the streets, cheering and bowing their heads to the King, for they did prosper under his reign for the last six years, yet none here had laid eyes upon him until this day. Erdrick rode past it all with a smile, holding his head high to the sounds of their admiration.

"Ah, how worthy it is to be greeted as a King should!" he sang.

Stopping in the town square, Erdrick descended from his horse. He passed the reins to one of his legionaries, Leurocrastes, who was the son of a fisherman from a city upon the shores of the great Inland Sea. "Take the horses to a stable," he said, "and see to it then that we have the finest rooms at the inn."

"As you wish, my liege," he said. The others did then dismount and hand their horses to his care. But Nero looked left and right, and there he saw that to the north of the town square there stood a squat black-spired temple to Melisine, the Queen of the Dead, and beside it there lay a cemetery, and before one grave there sat a young woman. Unlike the others, she had not turned to witness the coming of the King, for her head was bowed still in quiet contemplation. She was sallow-skinned, with dark almond-shaped eyes, and her raven-black hair was gathered in two bunches at each side of her head; she wore a long green tunic atop tight-fitting white trousers that were tucked into black boots. Upon her chest there was inscribed a sigil in the scripts of the Far East, yet Nero knew not what it meant.

Walking closer, he approached her from behind. "You, girl," said he; "what business have you here, and why do you raise no head to the great Erdrick, the King of this land?"

Slowly, the girl lifted her head, though her voice was calm and unwavering. "He is no King of mine," she said, "for I am Zhai Lifei, who has made the journey here from the far lands of Hanguo. For three years have I walked these roads, amidst the hills and forests of many lands, to come here, where my temple-masters have sent me to seek this - the grave of Nilus Arctomachus, the great fighter. He had traveled far to Hanguo in his day, where learned the lessons of our temple, and they had taught him to command great feats of strength and skill, such that he had slain a bear with his bare hands. Lo, I hath made this journey such that I may understand his path, and walk as he did."

To this, Nero scoffed. "You speak of commanding such great deeds with your hands alone, yet when I look upon thee I see only one who is frail and slight, who has no such strength in her whole body as I have in but one of mine arms. Nay, girl, I am a warrior who have devoted my life to the blade; who has fought upon many a battlefield - here, and in the lands of Baharata and the Southlands and Aliahan across the sea - and who counts his name among our King's guard. And you suppose you might best me with no sword to your name - to this I laugh!"

Lifei rose then to her feet, staring Nero in the eye with an unwavering glare. "Your words are those of a fool," said she, "for my swiftness is such that I need no sword nor spear, even against the greatest of foes."

"A bold one, I see!" spake Nero, who unsheathed his sword from his scabbard. "Mayhap a test shall prove my suspicion."

Lifei said no word, but nodded her head, her expression unflinching; lo, Nero, one among the King's guard, did show the point of his blade to her throat, but the girl's composure never wavered. Nero charged, swinging his sword in a great arc. As he advanced, Lifei was as still as a statue, but then, at the last moment, she hopped to the side, and when his steel came down it cut only through the air.

"What!?" Nero grumbled, but spun back around to face his foe. Again did he swing, but Lifei ducked beneath the arc of his blow, and rolled between his legs to alight behind his back. Nero swept his sword behind him as he turned, yet with perfect timing Lifei did swing upward with her elbow, tapping it against the flat of the blade such that it was pushed off course.

"You must peddle trickery, girl!" Nero spat. His next blow was aimed for her chest, in a sharp thrust, but Lifei swerved to the side again, catching him by the arm as it came near. She pushed upward against his wrist, directing his sword away from her; then, she spun upon one heel and landed an elbow directly against Nero's chest. It fell against his breastplate with a loud clang, and he staggered back - then, she thrust her palm into his throat, striking for the narrow point between his helmet and breastplate. It landed against the skin of his neck, and the warrior was thrown to his back, coughing and gasping for air.

Lifei stepped back then, holding her hands clasped at her chest. "See this," said she, "I carry no blade, yet with a single strike I have brought thee low."

"Two strikes," Nero coughed, pushing himself back to his feet. "Still, you have made your point."

"Aye," said she, "and may that be a warning to you. Should you again disturb my meditation, I may not be so forgiving."

"I suppose you've made your point," Nero grumbled. One of the legionaries called then to him, and he turned to rejoin his companions at the inn. The sun had set low in the sky, and darkness settled over the hills. He knew they still had much ground to cover.

Come the next morning, Erdrick remounted his horse and gathered his companions at the town square. "Lo, my fellows," he spake, "we have far to roam before we reach the province of Norvicum. I trust that ye all have used this time to resupply?"

"Aye," said the legionary Quirinus, who had traveled across the sands of Isis and regaled the King with tales of the splendors there. "The townspeople are blessed by the coming of the King, and they have left us with provisions for the journey to show their gratitude."

"And I have taken to the markets, and purchased furs, for the path shall take us high into the mountains, and we must guard ourselves against the cold," said the legionary Tribonius, who was a pious man and carried about his neck an amulet blessed in the temple of Rubiss the Allmother; at many a stop had he beseeched the Nine Gods for guidance.

"And I have stayed in the stables to watch over the horses, and assured that they were fed and watered, such that they shall be rested for the path ahead," said Leurocrastes.

Then spake Pietro. "My liege," said he, "while you were making arrangements at the inn, I took to the tavern, and there I heard whispers that there is a village that angered the elves, and the people were cursed into an unending slumber."

To this, Citomer faced him with a glare. "This is not a time for your mirth, jester! We are on a mission from the King, and you amuse yourself in wine, speaking of such frivolous tales? You must know that such a thing you speak of is impossible - not over an entire village."

But Samira shook her head. "Nay," she said, "my master did speak of the elves, and of the arcane secrets they keep closely guarded, for they shun the ways of settled men. I've no doubt the elves could work such a curse as this."

"Perhaps we shall see," Erdrick said as he spurred his stallion onward. "But until we behold such things, we've no use in pondering whether they are real, or just the tales of travelers. What, ho! The road ahead of us awaits, and each second we pass discussing it is a second that we are not breathing the air of the open road; watching the far mountains in the distance, hearing the song of the birds regale us! Come, my brothers, let us go!"

As they headed down the road, over a hill, the walls of Kazave began to recede into the distance. Still, Nero kept watch over his shoulder. His battle with Zhai Lifei did not fade from his mind, and still did he wonder where her path would next lead her, for he had met a worthy foe on this day.

For two more days did they set forth from Kazave. The further they journeyed from the capital, the more scarce did the villages become, and the cultivated fields gave way to high crags and dense forests. A chill blew through the air as they approached a spine of snow-capped peaks; Citomer pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders, while Pietro hugged against Samira's side. The path beneath them rose higher and higher through the hills, until even the valley they had came through was far below them beneath the cliffs.

Erdrick slowed his horse as he came atop a rock. A dusting of snow was laid about the ground below him, and two high mountains loomed ahead, watching the path like sentinels. "Samira," called he, "you have the map. Have we reached the Ultor Gap?"

"We must be nearing it," she answered. She brought the map lower, comparing the visage of the two towering peaks before them to what was inscribed there.

"Perhaps the legionaries should ride ahead, should danger await us," Citomer cautioned.

But the King shook his head. "Nay. I told ye, I fear no danger. Even in these last six years I have honed my skills with the blade and the ways of magic, O chaplain. Whatever threats approach us, I shall be ready."

As they advanced, they suddenly heard a great bird-call, splitting the air like a clap of thunder. The rocks along the mountainsides shuddered and sagged, and a few horses raised their heads with a panicked whinny. "Even that?" said Tribonius.

Erdrick held his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare. But it was then that a great shadow fell upon them. High in the air above them were three great birds, like massive hawks, their wings spread so wide as to block out the sky. The beating of their wings cast winds down upon them, and they circled the company from the skies, slowly descending closer and closer.

"To arms!" the King called. The legionaries drew bows, and a volley of arrows was cast into the air. Their points scoured the flanks of the great birds, sending feathers of a dark green hue, as long as a man's forearm, fluttering down to the pass beneath. Yet the creatures remained aloft, sounding now a terrible screech that rippled along the cliffs.

Citomer spurred his horse, which took off in a gallop away from the others. "If you wish to court fate, so be it - but I shall not damn myself from so foolish an errand!"

"Hold! Hold, wait for me!" Pietro, who traveled still on foot, hurried after him, but he tripped upon the slick stones and fell to his face. Behind him came the beating of hooves, and the shadow of the great birds was descending closer yet - one of those raptors did lunge then, its wicked talons curled to pierce through his back. But before the beast could land such a blow, Erdrick thundered forward. With one hand he tossed a gout of fire, which struck the bird and caused it to spiral back through the air, crying out in pain as flames sprung from its chest and bathed the pass in a red glow. With his other, the Aliahanian grabbed Pietro about the chest and hefted him higher, setting him on the back of his horse.

To this, Pietro looked back and forth. "By the Nine Gods! You have saved me, milord, and now forever am I in your debts!"

Erdrick grumbled. "Nary is this the first time, Pietro." He looked left and right, watching as Samira sprung upon the back of Nero's horse. The legionaries galloped after them, loosing a few more arrows, but none so much as grazed the hide of the terrible hawks. "What skills have you that may save us now, as you've boasted of?"

Pietro looked back and forth, his attention turning from his King to the birds that pursued them. A few times did he open his mouth to speak, but there he sputtered and stammered, for he knew not what could stand against such great and mighty beasts as these. He plunged his hand into his bag, rifling through his possessions. Erdrick watched him carefully, turning his eye to him from the path ahead, which was closing in upon the mountains. "Surely, there is something in there that may be of use!" he called.

Pietro's fingers then grasped something. Erdrick watched warily as he withdrew a small object from his pouch. When he pulled it into the light, the King did see that he carried a pack of cards - and then, as one of the birds swept closer, he threw it into the creature's face. Cards were scattered about the pass, but the bird did not slow.

"Ramia's wings!" Erdrick cursed, grasping the reins tighter. "I've no time for mere jests!"

"It was the only thing I could do, sire!" the jester protested.

Behind them, one of the three great hawks swept down upon Leurocrastes. It gripped him in its talons, sweeping him off the back of his still-galloping horse; his screams split the pass as he was carried upward and hurled a thousand feet down unto the crags below. Another bird grasped a boulder from the side of the cliff and tossed it down unto the pass, and with a great clash it came down upon both Quirinus and his horse, flattening them beneath it. Nero spurred his horse harder, the beast's legs flailing tirelessly at the air. "We have to outrun them!"

It was then that they passed betwixt the great cliffs of the two high mountains. A shadow fell over them, for the sun's light was blocked by the mountainside, and the wind did billow against their faces, for it was narrowed against the walls upon their sides. At that, Citomer raised his head. He released the reins of his horse and held his hands aloft, beseeching the heavens.

"I call on thee, O great god Boros, the Tidefather, god of storm and sea and sky! Your loyal servants invoke  thee to lend us the aid of your mighty winds!"

Upon Citomer's prayer, the wind roared like the howl of a wolf. It buffeted against the companions, tousling their hair and whipping their cloaks behind them. Erdrick recoiled in pain, for the strength of the wind against his face was like the crack of a whip. As they emerged from the canyon, Citomer ducked behind the side of the mountain, and the others did follow thence.

There, they watched as the great wind surged forward through the crags. The great birds were just behind them, but now the wind slammed into them as it was filtered through the canyon, and the birds were shot backward like the thrust of a catapult. They squawked and beat their wings, but they were powerless against the divine wind Citomer had called upon. The wind whistled past them, and then, all was silent.

Erdrick descended his horse then, panting for breath. The others followed. "Hark! Is it over?"

"Aye," Citomer said, watching as the birds disappeared in the distance. "The Tidefather has answered my prayer."

"We have lost two among our number, my liege," said Tribonius, "but they shall not be forgotten. The rest of us are yet well."

Together Citomer and Tribonius said a prayer for the souls of Leurocrastes and Quirinus, such that they might find safe travels to the shores of the Land of the Dead. When all had caught their breath and taken account of their supplies, they again mounted and continued on the path.

"Oh, what a merry day this is," Pietro spake, "that we should be saved from certain doom."

"A victory this may be," answered Erdrick, "we still know not of the fate of Noaniels. We may face more danger yet before this day is done."

As he came to a ledge, Erdrick slowed his steed. At last, the path before them had begun to descend from the hills, and he could see far afield, into a land of rolling hills blanketed in a sea of trees. A milestone sat by his side, along the road. He had reached the border of Norvicum, and from this height he could see unto a clearing where a small village sat among the woods. Yet no smoke rose from the chimneys, nor could any light or movement be seen. There were more mysteries, he knew, that yet lay ahead.