Chapter 24 - The Jagged Peaks

The silver-haired minstrel finished her song to a round of thunderous applause.  She rose to her feet, lute in one hand, and took a deep bow.  Her eyes wrinkled as she smiled at her audience and strode off the stage to the bar where the landlord had already readied a foaming tankard of ale for her.

Thia saw all this out of the corner of her eye, as she searched the common room for a seat.  The Dying Soldier Inn was packed to the rafters.  It was always a popular haunt but when Mrs Ludd was singing, the crowds swelled. 

Thia was just about to give up and go across the road to the Western Arms tavern when a table suddenly came free.  Bustling through the crowd she reached the table just as a tall, broad man arrived from the opposite direction, clearly also intent on the one empty table.  Their eyes met and both grinned as they realized what was happening. 

"Milady," the young man said with a small bow.  "I assume you wish to use the table?"

"That was my plan, yes," Thia answered.  She looked the man up and down.  He was tall and thickset with a strong jawline.  He wore a suit of chainmail armour under a brown travelling cloak, which marked him out as a mercenary or similar.  Unkempt hair and a thin line of stubble told her he had probably been on the road for a while.  He had a broad sword strapped to his side, the type favoured by the men of the kingdom.  His face was young but looked haggard as if he had suffered more than his years.  His bearing, accent and manners marked him out as well-bred, perhaps even a noble, though his clothes were more practical than expensive.

"I am not averse to sharing the table," the stranger offered.

Thia smiled and was about to nod in agreement when she noticed the table was no longer empty.  Somehow, as she had been distracted by her conversation with the tall stranger, a third party had moved in and taken a chair at the table.  The newcomer was slim and athletic of build, with a thin face and shaven head.  He wore well-fitted and good-quality travelling clothes and had no visible weapons.  Probably a local, she guessed, but how did he slip into the seat without her noticing?  The tall man across from him also appeared to notice the newcomer at the same time.

Chi looked up from his seat at the mercenary and half-fey woman who were looking down at him.  He picked up his tankard and lifted it in salute to the two, taking a small sip and placing it back down on the table.  This was the perfect sort of place to pick up rumours and gossip, so he was happy for the company and people to talk to.  He gestured to the two remaining seats.  "Please, join me," he offered them both.

Thia smiled and slipped lithely into the offered chair, placing her tankard down on the table.  Jaeden looked back at the half-fey woman and down at the newcomer, shrugged and also sat, also placing his tankard of ale on the table and squeezing his chainmail bulk into a chair.  

"Well met," greeted Chi.  "I am Zachary of Craig-coed, travelling merchant," he said simply.

"Thia Moonsong," the half-fey introduced herself.

"Jaeden of Littlebrook, at your service," the tall man announced.

"What brings you to this inn today, lady?" Chi asked Thia.

"I'm just passing through.  On my way up into the Jagged Peaks and onto Mount Macarack," she told them.  "I am a scholar and wish to visit the Great Library there."

Chi nodded sagely and turned to the large warrior.  "And you, Jaeden?"

"Coincidentally, I am also headed in that direction," he replied.  "Probably not going quite that far, but definitely beyond Castle Fortuna and up into the mountains."

"That is curious," noted Chi, his accent sounding slightly unusual and hard to place to the southern-bred ex-knight.  "I was wondering where to go next.  It sounds like Mount Macarack is popular at the moment, and I am sure I can make some sales there," he smiled.  "I was also looking for some company on the road.  Perhaps we might travel together? For protection?"

"Is it that dangerous on the road?" asked Thia.

"Yes," said Jaeden bluntly.  "Deadly."

Unnoticed by the trio as they began to get acquainted, an old man was sitting deep in the shadows of the inn across the common room.  He nodded to himself, happy that his efforts to unite the three misfits had been successful.  His plan was proceeding perfectly.

*

Jaeden squeezed his calves and nudged Dancer up a thin mountain trail.  Behind him, Thia and Chi followed his lead.  The warrior hefted his shield, readying it on his left arm and loosened his sword in its scabbard.  This was the spot the mountain giant had ambushed them, earlier that summer.

"What's the concern, Jaeden?" asked Chi, ever observant and noting the big man's actions.

"Just being prepared," Jaeden replied without looking back over his shoulder.  Then a head-sized rock whizzed past Jaeden's shoulder and smashed into splinters on the cliff wall beside him.  "For something like that!" he cried, pulling his sword free and spurring Dancer into a charge.

Ahead, where the trail topped a small rise, stood a huge figure.  It was a mountain giant.  It had picked up another rock and was taking aim.  Jaeden noted the bald head with a few wisps of long, greasy black hair and the wooden nose piercing and knew it to be the same one who had killed Daniella.  Uncontrollable rage filled him.

Dancer charged bravely up the trail but it was too steep to enable him to reach full speed.  Jaeden wished for the longer reach of a lance but he had not carried one since being stripped of his knighthood.  He urged Dancer up the hill as the giant threw his second rock.

This close up its aim was better and the rock hit Dancer with a glancing blow in the flank.  The horse neighed in pain and fell sideways.  Jaeden kicked out of the saddle, rolling clear to avoid getting squashed by the falling mount.  He grabbed his broadsword and scrambled to his feet.  His shield was on the far side of Dancer, where he had dropped it in his efforts to get clear of the falling horse.   

Above him, the giant was advancing.  It held the same silver birch trunk that had killed Daniella a few months before.  

Suddenly Jaeden heard a powerful voice call out from below him on the trail.  The language was unknown to him but the tone was unmistakably strong, assertive and controlling.  The mountain giant stopped in its tracks.  Its face was screwed up in a ball of concentration as if it was trying to make its legs move forward but had forgotten how.

There was a blur of movement behind the giant and Jaeden saw the slim form of Chi rushing in from the shadows.  The small man planted one leg firmly on the ground and, spinning in a quick circle, thrust the other leg out right into the back of the giant's knee.  The giant collapsed, its support taken cleanly out from under it.

Jaeden didn't waste the opportunity.  He rushed forward and drove his broadsword two-handed into the giant's neck.  He focused all the anger and pain of Daniella's death, all of his shame at being stripped of his knighthood, and all of his fear about what had befallen Alfred, into that one terrible strike.  There was no mercy or pity in his blow.  There was only pure, unrestrained hatred.

Lifeblood spurted out, covering the warrior's hands and chest as the giant, still trying to work out why it could not move, died on the trail.  Jaeden stood, staring at the huge body, expecting or hoping to feel some satisfaction from the kill. There was none.

*

"I didn't even look for him,"  Jaeden said, disconsolately, shaking his head.

"It's totally understandable," Thia responded kindly.  "You were in a state of shock.  You also had Daniella's body to take care of."

Jaeden had been telling Chi and Thia the story of his encounter with the giant, the death of Daniella and of subsequently being stripped of his knighthood.  He then went on to explain that he had come here to the site of his fight with the giant to see if he could find any signs of Alfred, as he had completely neglected to do so at the time of the attack.

Jaeden knelt next to Chi who was looking at some scuff marks next to the trail where the fight had occurred.  "Do you see anything, Zachary?"

Chi shook his head slightly.  "I'm sorry Jaeden.  The tracks are just too old to be clear about anything.  I can see that there was a scuffle here a fairly long time ago, but something as subtle as identifying what happened to one man is beyond my skills on this rocky terrain."

"Where did you learn to track?" the fighter asked the small man kneeling beside him.  "And come to that, where does a merchant learn to kick like that?  You brought a fifteen-foot-tall giant to the floor with that attack."   Jaeden thought back to the stories he and Alfred had heard from Haruki the silk merchant in Littlebrook, to the story of the Knight and the Monk.  "You trained at the Monastery of the Way, didn't you?"

Chi nodded simply.  "I did, yes.  That is where I learned to fight and to track.  But I am also a merchant because, unless you take up the mercenary lifestyle, fighting does not pay as well as selling things."

Jaeden looked up at the area around them.  The main body of the Jagged Peaks lay off to the north and west of them.  They were approaching the final easternmost spur of the mountains where the great fortress of Mount Macarack was built.  A thin, flinty trail wound its way north and east in the direction of the stronghold, curling around craggy outcroppings and below granite cliff faces. He could imagine a hundred caves and caverns that Alfred could have run off to hide in.

"Maybe the giant took him captive?" suggested Thia.  "Could you track it back to its home?" she asked of Chi.

"Probably, yes," the Ghostwalker replied, moving over to where the giant's body lay.  "If we are happy to move away from this location I will see if I can follow the trail which led it here."

Jaeden and Thia agreed and they mounted up.  Thia took the reins of Chi's horse and tied it to her saddle whilst Chi stayed on foot, following the sign left by the giant.  After a short distance, the tracks led to a dark cave mouth.  "It looks like it came from in there," Chi indicated.

"Only one thing for it then," declared Jaeden, sliding out of his saddle and drawing his sword.  Purposefully he strode into the dark cave mouth, his face set in grim determination.  Behind him, Chi and Thia exchanged glances and moved in to support him.

The cave stank.  It was surprisingly small as well, considering a fifteen-foot-tall giant made its home there.   In one area a pile of half-rotten furs and bushes made what appeared to be a bed of some sort.  In another, the ripped carcasses of mountain goats and other unidentifiable creatures were strewn next to a crude firepit.  A rusty, metal bucket sat nearby containing brackish water.

Of Alfred, there was simply no sign.  The three of them searched the cave from top to bottom but there was nothing which would even indicate that he was ever there.

Jaeden let out a long, despondent sigh.  Chi clapped him supportedly on one shoulder but said nothing.  There was nothing he could say.

"If you would like me to, I will come with you to Mount Macarack," Jaeden offered to the other two when they were outside in the fresh air again.  "There is nothing for me up here now and I have no idea where to go next.  But there is a small chance that, if he escaped, Alfred would have followed the trail on towards the abbey there."

"Maybe he is sitting in the Great Library, drinking coffee and reading a book, even as we speak," smiled Thia encouragingly.

"I'd like to think that," replied Jaeden, though his face showed he thought it entirely unlikely.

Chapter 25 - The Great Library

The fortress of Mount Macarack rose from the towering peak like an extension of the mountain.  Hewn straight from the local granite millennia ago it had a long and storied past.  Legend told it was built by dwarven folk when they were still common in the lands.  It was named for the first chieftain who lived there before King Eldred brought all the tribes under his dominion and formed the Kingdom of Albion nearly fifteen hundred years ago.  King Eldred himself spent some time living in the fortress before returning south to his home of Littlebrook and making that his capital.

The trail that led to the entrance of the towering stronghold was thin and winding.  Terrifying sheer drops down craggy cliff edges greeted the traveller on this path and the wind whistled up and threatened to push those not sure of foot off the track to their doom.  It was no wonder this fortress had never been sacked.

The three weary travellers rode on.  Their leader was a mercenary, judging from his chainmail armour, sword and shield.  Following him was a slight man dressed in fine clothes.  His horse's saddlebags were brimming, suggesting he was probably some sort of merchant.  Last in the line was a woman.  As the wind whipped at her hair it occasionally revealed upswept lobes which marked her as of fey descent.  

Eventually, they reached the imposing gatehouse that guarded the towering structure.  The huge portcullis which barred the way was down.  A voice called down from the battlements high above.  "Who goes there?  Identify yourselves and your purpose."

"Jaeden of Littlebrook," came the reply from the lead rider.  "And with me, the merchant Zachary of Craig-coed and the sage, Thia Moonsong.  We seek entrance to the stronghold and access to the Great Library."

There was a longer-than-expected pause as if the voice upon the battlements was debating whether to allow entry.  "You are known to us, Jaeden of Littlebrook," the response eventually came.  "Your arrival here will displease some, but none will be turned away who come in peace."

The immense portcullis began to rise at some unseen signal as great chains rattled behind the granite walls, straining to lift the huge iron portal.   As soon as the gate was high enough, Jaeden spurred Dancer on and they entered the stronghold at a purposeful walk.  Behind him, Chi and Thia followed.

They found themselves entering a series of chambers separated by more portcullises.  In each chamber, they were held in place by a lowered gate, whilst the one behind them was dropped.  Only once the outward portcullis was shut would the inner one open.  In total, they passed through four such portals.  The guardians of Mount Macarack, who Jaeden knew to be Knights of the Sun, took the protection of the fortress, the abbey and the library here very seriously.

Upon passing through the fourth portal the group rode into the warm sunshine and a huge courtyard that was central to the whole fortress.  It was predominantly laid to grass, with a towering oak tree which grew right in the centre of the courtyard.  This was the legendary Tree of Health and the stories told that as long as the tree stood and continued to remain healthy, the priests of the Church of the Sun in Albion would continue to be able to draw Light from the Void to heal the sick and injured. 

Standing in front of the tree were three figures.  One was a Knight of the Sun from her full plate armour and tabard.  Jaeden knew her to be Dame Rosette, head of the Chapter House of knights here.  The other two wore brown robes which marked them as members of the Order of the Book.  This sect of monks studied at the abbey and tended the library.  The older of the two priests stepped forward.

"Well met, Jaeden, Zachary and Thia.  I am Abbot Kieran, the current overseer of this humble monastery and the library within.  Welcome to Mount Macarack."  He had long brown hair and a long scraggly beard with bright, intelligent eyes.  A scar ran across his forehead gained fighting in the Chaos Wars before he was appointed Abbot here. His smile was warm and genuine.

Next Dame Rosette stepped forward, looking at the ex-knight with a serious expression.  "It saddens me that we didn't get to meet earlier this summer," she said to Jaeden, "under more favourable conditions."  A blush spread across the fighter's neck and he looked down at the grass, unable to meet the knight's keen gaze.

The third person then moved alongside the others.  Dressed in the brown robes of the priests at the abbey, he had a terrible scowl on his face and looked at Jaeden with ill-concealed hatred.  "Murderer!" he accused, jabbing his finger towards Jaeden's chest.  "Cowardly, murderous dog!  You should not be allowed to defile this place with your presence."

Jaeden's head snapped up and his eyes narrowed.  The monk opposite him had a close-shaved head bar a single, wavy lock that was braided and ran down to his neck.  The strand of hair was auburn and the eyes reminded Jaeden painfully of Daniella's.  This must be her brother.

"Calm yourself, Brother Henry," instructed Abbot Kieran, placing a restraining arm across in front of the young priest.  "All are welcome here who come in peace."

"Defiler," Henry growled deep in his throat, eyes boring into Jaeden's, and spun on his heel, striding quickly away across the courtyard.  Reaching a door on the far side he passed through, slamming it shut behind him.

"My apologies for Brother Henry's outburst, master Jaeden," said the abbot kindly.  "The last few months have been hard for him."

"As I am sure they have been for you," followed up Dame Rosette with a glance that was both stern and sympathetic at the same time.

*

"Did an old fey by the name of Alandriel arrive here in the past few weeks?" Thia asked Abbot Kieran the next day. 

The group had settled into the abbey in guest quarters on the top floor.  Though plain and spartan the quarters were comfortable enough and they had enjoyed a pleasant meal of roasted goat and mountain vegetables that evening.

Now they were down in the bowels of the fortress where the main library was housed.  The monks preferred to store the books here where the temperature was consistent and no natural light would cause the books to age prematurely.  The whole area was warmed by a clever series of pipes which pumped heated water around, radiating a steady temperature.  It was lit by a collection of lamps which were enchanted with tiny portals to the Void, drawing light but no heat, meaning no risk of fire.  Everything here was designed with the books in mind.

Abbot Kieran had just completed a quick tour of the Great Library, showing the three of them the whole place and explaining how it was all organized and catalogued.  Thia was astounded at the incredible levels of organization and administration that had been put into the library.  She was amazed at the extreme amounts of lore, science, nature and history that had been collected here.  She could not imagine anywhere better.

"Ah, Alandriel, yes of course!" answered the abbot.  " He was here a couple of weeks ago I believe.  Didn't stay long, said he had important business to attend to."

Thia's heart skipped a beat.  At least her guess as to his destination had been correct, but frustratingly he had already left.  "Did he say where he was going next?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not, no.  As I say, he left in rather a hurry.  He seemed quite agitated but I didn't press him to find out what was wrong," replied Kieran.

Thia sighed in frustration.  She was so close.  Her mentor had been here but had left with no indication as to where he had gone next.  "Do you know which part of the library he visited?" she asked the abbot.  Perhaps she could glean some information by reading some of the books her teacher had read.

"Of course," the abbot replied.  "Let me show you."

"Excuse me," cut in Jaeden, inspired by Thia's question and hoping for a similar answer.  Abbot Kieran turned to look at the ex-knight.  "Did a man about my age by the name of Alfred arrive here within the last couple of months?  He is tall and slim, black hair, with a cheeky grin never far from his face."

The abbot considered this for a while but shook his head.  "No, I am sorry, I don't think he did.  Though you can go to the gatehouse and ask the knight in charge up there to look at the record book.  We record the names of all visitors to the abbey."

Jaeden thanked the priest, took his leave and headed off up the stairs to the gatehouse, hoping to find Alfred's name in the records but fearing the worst.

*

Chi looked quickly about him, ensuring no one was in immediate sight.  He had slipped away from the others and made his way down into the archives.  The library was a vast place with many sections and chambers.  He headed directly to the third level and the part entitled 'Ancient Albion' - the place he had been directed to by Caerdic at their last meeting. 

Moving silently as a ghost he crept into the side room.  Once inside, he flattened himself against a wall and calling upon his Void-touched power he drew the shadows around him, taking care to blend them naturally into the light and shadows already in the room.  He slowed his breath and listened.

Deeper into the chamber he could make out a very quiet whistling sound, tuneless but merry.  Someone else was in the section.  It was not unexpected - the library was vast but there were a dozen monks who spent most of their waking lives down in the archives, organizing, cataloguing and generally looking after the many tomes.

Chi knew he had a limited time frame.  He had disappeared on a tour of the abbey.  It was a big place and easy to get lost in.  He would have no issues with making up an excuse for being lost for a short period, but too long and people would begin to get suspicious.  He could not afford to wait for the monk to leave the area, and of course, he could not afford to be seen or heard.

He crouched low in his Void-created shadow and reached into the folds of his jacket.  Slowly he pulled out a small wooden box.  Inside were the larvae of the book moths that Caerdic had given him.  They had not eaten in a few weeks but Chi believed they would have survived.  They should now be ready to break out in search of food.  And for them, food meant paper and parchment.

Chi's initial thoughts were that he would have preferred to release the larvae right in the middle of the chamber, amid all the books, where they would wreak most damage.  Then he reconsidered.  Perhaps releasing them in his current location, right on the edge of the section, was a better choice.  Here it would take them longer to establish themselves, and they would be less noticeable.  This would also give Chi more time to leave the fortress.  It could take the larvae many days to do enough damage to be noticed; by which time he expected to have left the abbey and have no chance of being connected to the book moths.

So he opened the miniature sliding top of the wooden box and gently shook the contents out onto the floor, in the shadows beneath a nearby bookcase.  Four tiny cocoons rolled out and disappeared into the darkness under the lowest shelf.

Hearing the whistling slowly getting closer, Chi quickly stowed the box and, drawing the shadows deeper around him, swiftly and silently moved out of the Ancient Albion section and back into the corridor beyond, leaving behind a pest that could cause devastation to the books around it.

*

Thia crunched on a shiny red apple and squinted in the magical lamp-light.  "That's it!" she exclaimed, even though she was alone.  "That's where I've seen it before!" 

She was leafing through an ancient tome in the section of the library that Alandriel had visited weeks before.  In front of her was a page with a drawing on it, showing a rearing snake with its hood flared.  The symbol was an old one that was used by the Keri-heb over a thousand years ago.  It symbolized one who had achieved the rank of Archmage in their organization, a prestigious title.  And it was the same symbol, more or less, that she had noticed on the robes worn by Caerdic, the Druid of Sylvandale.  Was this just a coincidence?  Or did it have some sort of significance?  She had no idea.

"It's so frustrating," she moaned later that day.  Sitting back up in the guest quarters with the book she had borrowed from the main library on the table in front of her, she let out a long, deep sigh.

"What is?" prompted Jaeden who was sitting nearby sharpening the blade of his broadsword with long, smooth strokes.

"I just can't figure out what Alandriel came here for, and what he discovered.  There's simply no way to tell.  I have looked into the section he visited but there are over a thousand books in that section alone.  It would take me a lifetime to scour them all for a hint of what he discovered."

"At least you know he arrived," pointed out Jaeden.  He had been to check over the visitor records and no one by the name of Alfred had been to the abbey this summer.  If his friend had made it here, he had used an assumed name, but no one Jaeden had spoken to could recall anyone of his description arriving.

"Most frustrating," Chi agreed from his position on the floor by the fireplace.  He was stretching out on the fur rug which lay in front of the hearth, keeping his muscles loose.  Turning his attention to Thia he asked, "Have you any leads?"

"Only one, and I can't see how that has anything to do with Alandriel, nor why he would have come here to discover that."

"What lead is that then?" Jaeden prompted.  "Perhaps we can help by adding our minds to the conundrum?"

"Well, back in Sylvandale, there lives a druid.  He helped me discover where my true powers lie.  You recall the giant we defeated on the trail?"  The others nodded acknowledgement.  "Well, I used a word of power upon it to help freeze it in place."

"Ah!" exclaimed Jaeden.  "That explains much that I didn't understand.  I have been meaning to ask you about that but kept forgetting."

"Well, those powers were discovered and developed in the forest of Sylvandale but I was put upon the path, and nudged along it in places, by the druid, Caerdic.  Now, he wore robes which had a small emblem stitched into them.  Up by the left shoulder, there was a tiny symbol embroidered, a striking, hooded snake. And in the section of the library where Alandriel went looking, I found a book which depicts this symbol.  The two are so similar that I'm sure they are the same.  And if they are, then it means Caerdic is wearing the symbol of an Archmagi of the Keri-heb.

"The frustrating thing is that is all I have been able to discover and I have no idea if it is what Alandriel came to look up, or even any clue at all as to what he came here to look for, nor what he found."

A puzzled look crossed Chi's face.  "Did you say this druid was called Caerdic?" he asked.

"Indeed, why?" replied Thia.

"Can you describe him?"

"Let's see," she thought back to her time in the fey forests.  "He is human, of course, and old.  He has silver-grey hair and a long silver beard which comes down to his waist.  He wears forest green vestments, tied with a robe belt.  He seems to always carry a gnarled and worn staff.  Typical druid."

"Typical druid," repeated Chi.  "And maybe more."

"Typical druid," responded Jaeden thoughtfully, "And an unusual coffee purveyor."

Chapter 26 - Caerdic

"That's crazy," exclaimed Thia turning around to look at Jaeden and Chi.  "You can't both know him."

"Well, I don't know for certain," Jaeden responded, "but you have just perfectly described a man loosely known to me but intimately known to my missing friend Alfred.  Caerdic is Alfred's master.  He is the coffee purveyor to the royal family back in Littlebrook.  You've described him to a tee and of course, he has the same name.  It must be the same man."

"And you, Zachary?" Thia asked, turning to Chi.

Chi rapidly pondered how he could explain knowing Caerdic without giving away his history as a Ghostwalker.  He decided that a near truth was the best option.  "I met him once," he began.  "As part of my training in the Monastery of the Way, I was lucky enough to spend a year in Sapporo, Honshu.  At the Snow Festival that year the monastery put on a demonstration for Lord Nakamura, the local lord.  Caerdic attended in his official role as advisor to the lord.  Again, I cannot be certain but the description fits perfectly and I know he was called by that same name."  

"So is he some sort of spell weaver, as far as you both know?" asked Thia.

"Not my Caerdic, no," responded Jaeden.  "Just a coffee seller, though an important one who has regular meetings with the king and queen."

"Unknown," responded Chi non-committally, not wanting to share too much.  "Though it was rumoured he was some sort of mystic, which was why Lord Nakamura had chosen an Albioner as an advisor."

"Well," said Thia thoughtfully, "it sort of explains how he can be in Sylvandale, Littlebrook and Sapporo seemingly all at the same time.  If he is an Archmage of the Keri-heb, then he would be extremely powerful and probably possess the power to travel rapidly between those locations.  The Keri-heb is an ancient organization of mage-priests based out of the island continent of Khemit, far across the sea to the west.  It is said that they are one of the most powerful forces and practitioners of the arcane arts anywhere in the known world. And Caerdic wears the symbol of an Archmage in that organization which marks him as a greater power."

"Which is all very well," observed Chi, keen to change the subject of the conversation, knowing that Caerdic was acting to destabilize the Kingdom of Albion before a potential war. "But, does this unlikely coincidence help either of you to achieve what you came here for?"

Jaeden shook his head mournfully and Thia sighed again.

*

"You're right," declared Jaeden.  "There is nothing more for me here.  I came to see if maybe Alfred escaped the clutches of the mountain giant and made it this far to safety.   He never reached this far.  Now I have to figure out where I go next in my search."

"Likewise, I suppose," agreed Thia, moving to the fruit bowl and selecting a red apple for shining.  "I came here hoping that Alandriel had visited here before me.  I found that he did but I have been completely unable to determine what he came for or what he found out.  All I know is that he did discover something and left, but I don't know what or where to."

"And I've made all the sales and purchases I came for," added Chi, standing up and stretching his arms behind his back.  "All my goals here have been achieved," he said, thinking of the book moth cocoons that would most likely be hatching even as he spoke.

"Well, I suppose at least one of us has been successful," concluded Thia grimly.  "But now we all appear ready to depart."

"Agreed," said Jaeden.  "I think I will return to Thistledelve and see if I can pick up any signs of Alfred there."

"Thistledelve also feels like the next place I should go," stated Thia, taking a big bite out of her apple.  "It's the biggest settlement in the region and Alandriel would be noteworthy being a fey, so perhaps the guards there will remember if he passed through recently."

"I also plan to return to Thistledelve to replenish my goods," said Chi, thinking that he also needed to visit Sensei Osaka in the Monastery of the North Winds just outside the town, to report on his successful sabotage of the Great Library, and perhaps to be given a new mission.

"Then we all travel together?" prompted Thia.

"I admit I would appreciate the company, to keep my mind off troubling thoughts," said Jaeden.

"And I would appreciate both the company and the added protection of a potent warrior and a studied mage," responded Chi with a smile.

"Yeah, like you need protection, your-monk-ness," mocked Jaeden cheerfully.

The three of them laughed and felt the mood in the room lighten considerably.

*

The view from the rise was spectacular.  Before them, the Furrow Hills dropped away to reveal the crisscrossed fields of farm holdings, and the country lanes and apple orchards of northern Albion.  The pale evening sunlight brought the whole vista into soft focus and the slight heat haze that remained after the hot summer's day was slowly dissolving.  To their right, across the last of the summits of the Jagged Peaks, the sun had just set.

"This seems like an appropriate place to set up camp," suggested Jaeden, as they took in the scene.  To their left, not far away, trickled a small mountain stream which would provide fresh water, and a small copse about a half-mile below them would provide wood for their fire.

"Indeed," agreed Thia, stretching languidly in the saddle.  "I've had enough of riding for one day, anyway."

Chi sat atop his horse with a faraway look in his eyes.  Back up the trail, a few miles behind them was an area he thought he recognised.  It was hard to say, but he was thinking they had just passed the track which led to Craig-coed, the tiny settlement he grew up in.  He was toying with the idea of heading back but wasn't sure what he would do if he was right.  His life now was no longer that of Zachary the seamstress' son.  He was Chi, a Ghostwalker working for Lord Nakamura, with an important role to play in helping his adopted country win a potential war in this region.  A question cut across his reverie and snapped him back to the present.

"Zach? Which one?" asked Jaeden.

"Sorry, Jaeden, I was miles away.  What was the question?"

"Did you want to collect the firewood, do the cooking, or do the cleaning up afterwards?" the ex-knight repeated.

"Is it my choice this evening?" asked Chi, shaking his head.  "I never can get my head around this rota system of yours."

"There is a reason for that, Zach," observed Thia as she slid off her horse.

"What's that?" asked Chi.

"He doesn't have a system," she told him.  "He makes it up as he goes along and just sounds like he working off some sort of system."

Jaeden smiled and nimbly dismounted from Dancer, leading him over to a nearby sapling to tether him for the night.  "You got me," he admitted, grinning.

"In that case," declared Chi, "I think Jaeden can do the firewood collecting."  Jaeden nodded his agreement.  "And the cooking, and the clearing up!" continued Chi laughing.

"Alright, alright," grinned Jaeden.  "I'll start with the firewood," he muttered as he set off down the trail towards the nearby copse.

Chi dismounted and moved to Thia, taking her reins and tying both their horses to the same sapling Jaeden had just tethered Dancer up to.  His eyes caught some slight movement off the trail nearby.  Turning to look that way he narrowed his eyes as he recognized the person standing nearby, watching them all.  "Jaeden," he called out, without taking his eyes off the newcomer.  "I think you had best come back here."

*

"Who are you?" Jaeden asked the robed figure when they were all seated around their makeshift campsite a little while later.

"You all know me, to some degree or another," the old man told them, smiling benignly.  "I am called Caerdic."

"Yes, we all know that," retorted Thia sharply.  "But who are you?" she asked as if that was a different question.

"If you mean, what is my purpose, then that is a long tale, but one I am happy to recount once a fire is lit and we are all tucking into the brace of conies I brought with me," the old man replied, pulling some dead rabbits out from behind him as if from thin air.

"Seems reasonable," answered Jaeden.  "There's not much more to do anyway," he said.  

Caerdic moved a little distance away from the campsite, took out a small knife and expertly skinned and skewered the rabbits, ready for roasting. "Now," he said when they were all settled and the conies were beginning to sizzle, "my tale.  My name, as I said, is Caerdic and I consider myself a Guardian whose role is to protect Albion from forces which would destroy it."

Chi considered this claim in light of the fact he knew Caerdric was encouraging him to destabilize the country in preparation for a potential invasion by the samurai of Lord Nakamura.

"My vision is grand and stretches well beyond the current timeframe.  I am not looking at the small picture but the big story.  Albion is headed in a bad direction and I am working tirelessly to right that wrong and to nudge her in the desired direction.

"And, most importantly," the old man concluded, "I have selected you three to help me."

Chapter 27 - Misfits

"Why us?" came the obvious question.   The three looked back and forth between each other and then all focused their attention on the old man who sat turning the rabbits on the spit.

"It's simple," replied Caerdic, sitting back and returning their gazes.  "Because you all have great potential, yet you have all been spat out by Albion in your own ways." 

The old man picked up the spit and examined the two conies closely.  Deciding they were not quite ready he put the spit back over the fire, giving it another turn.  He then looked at Jaeden.

"Let's start with you, Jaeden. You were unfairly stripped of your knighthood by an organization which is unfeeling and unbending.  You did nothing wrong; Daniella's death was not your fault, yet you took the full blame and were unjustly embarrassed and shamed by the Order you had given your whole young life to serve.  Where is the justice in that?  Where is the honour? The goodness?"  The old man stared at Jaeden until the ex-knight could hold his gaze no longer.  Shaking his head as painful memories resurfaced, Jaeden looked down into the fire, unable or unwilling to look up at his friends.

Turning to Chi, Caerdic said, "And you, Zachary.  Who came to search for you when the Feral took you at the age of six?  No one from this land.  Instead, the Easterners saved you and raised you well, raised you as one of their own.  You are now more the man named Chi than you ever were the boy named Zachary.  You are a fully trained and prepared Ghostwalker.  You have been given skills, education and a purpose by the Easterners when the men of Albion left you to your fate."  Thia turned to look sharply at Chi as Caerdic made this revelation and even Jaeden was dragged from his self-pity to look up.

"Ghostwalker?" Thia asked, having read of the mysterious assassins in one of Alandriel's many books back home.  Chi narrowed his eyes as he looked at the old man, wondering at his purpose for exposing him like this.  But he could not help but agree with the sentiment and realized that this was why he, a native of this land of Albion, was happy to work against it for the will of Lord Nakamura - Albion was where he had been born but it was not his land.  They had abandoned him when the Feral had come.  They had left him to his fate and Chi had escaped only due to the intervention of Tanaka Keinosuke and his patrol.

"And you, dear Thia," cut in Caerdic, bringing their attention away from Chi.  "Bastard child of a human merchant and one of the legendary Sylvarran.  Ignored by your father, who was ever more interested in money than he was in you.  Raised among the fey who would not bend enough to support you in finding your destiny.  All their ancient magi could not see your true talent.  It took me to put you on the correct path to unlock your immense potential.  You have never really fitted into either realm, the fey or the human.  You have been ridiculed and belittled by both races."

The old man stood and pulled the two rabbits off the fire.  Satisfied they were ready, he moved them to a ceramic plate which was warming by the embers.  He then proceeded to split them into four portions and handed three out to the companions, keeping one for himself.  As he did all this the three comrades merely sat, reflecting on his words, coming to terms with the truth of his message.  

Each of them knew his words to be true; knew that this land, the Kingdom of Albion, had done nothing to help them and had done them wrong, one way or another.

"All three of you have so much to offer yet were given up on by this land," Caerdic continued into the silence after finishing a mouthful of steaming hot rabbit.  "But not by me.  I have long watched you all.  I have seen you grow and blossom, and have even nudged your development a little in places.  I would help you reach your full potential. 

"Jaeden, I can help you learn to draw upon the Light to protect and empower you in battle, to make you stronger even than you are already.  Thia, I know some of the Orator's words of power and would gladly share them with you.  I can show you how to channel the emotions you feel inside and control your energy and focus it more accurately.  And Chi, you already know that I can help you learn to summon the shadows.  I can show you tricks that even the Ghostwalker masters of the Phantom clan do not know."

Caerdic looked at all three intently for a moment.  "All I ask in return is that you help me."

It took a while for the three to realize an offer had just been made but that there was a caveat, a bargain to be made.  Thia voiced the question in all their minds.

"How can we help?" she asked.

"Come with me," Caerdic replied.  "I go to visit the Feral.  I wish for you to come with me and use your considerable talents and powers to help me to unite the tribes into one cohesive force."

Jaeden had nothing left in his life.  His one dream had been stripped from him.  He was shamed and an outcast.  Yet this man was offering a place in this world, a purpose.  It was something he was desperate to hold on to and so he agreed, hoping this would give him the direction he needed to make sense of his life.  He stood and looked at Caerdic.  "I will come," he pledged simply.

Chi was in a quandary.  He knew Caerdic as the man who helped train him as a Ghostwalker and as an advisor to the man to whom he ultimately owed fealty: Lord Nakamura of Sapporo.   But he was suggesting going to visit the Feral, and by the sounds of things to try and unite them under his banner.  Chi's last and only memory of the Feral was of a smoke-filled village, of the wanton slaughter and the acrid smell of the Feral chieftain's fur armour when he had enfolded Chi in a hug to stop him from running off.  Looking back and forth at Jaeden and Thia and seeing them both appearing to agree, he stood.  "I will come," he said, though his voice was far less committed than Jaeden's had been.

Thia thought back to all the times she had been mocked by Ghaladrethin during her apprenticeship.  The only fey who had ever really understood her or had time for her was Alandriel and he was now gone.  With no leads to find him and with Caerdic offering to guide and teach her, she felt that following this man was her best course of action.  She also rose and added, "I will come."

It didn't occur to her that if Caerdic was promising to teach her some of the powers of the Orator, perhaps he was using subtle magic upon them now.  If she had stopped to think about it, she might have put up her mental barriers or taken note of the way Caerdic's voice rose and fell in a certain cadence that opened tiny portals into the Void where he could draw the power needed to give his words magical compulsion.

Chapter 28 - The Feral

The Midsummer Moot was a hallowed time for the Feral and Ivar Svenson was determined not to be late.  The hulking man strode on up the mountain trail through the early evening dusk, his huge strides eating up the miles.  An immense double-bladed broad-axe was slung across his shoulder and he was bedecked from waist to toe in heavy deerskin furs.  His chest was bare and sweat glistened across his pale skin.  Long, unkempt, curly blond hair hung down to his shoulders and was offset by a neat, trimmed blond beard.

Cresting a rise he stopped, drew a waterskin from the pouch at his side and slaked his thirst.  It had been a warm day and he had been marching since before dawn.  He knew he was close to the appointed site of the Moot.  A mile more, maybe two at the outside.  Stoppering the wineskin he replaced it in his pouch and resumed his hike. 

Ivar was clanless and it would not do to arrive late for the Moot, which would start at sunrise tomorrow and last three days.  Besides, Moot's Eve party was always the best one and he didn't want to miss that.

As he progressed his keen ears picked up the sounds of drums in the distance.  Not the cadence of war drums, these were beating at a different rhythm.  The rhythm of festivity.  The rhythm of the dance.  He increased his pace.

Ahead he could make out a subtle glow coming from the next valley over.  The sun had set and darkness fell quickly in the Jagged Peaks.  The darker it got the more pronounced the glow which flickered on the rocky sides of the far mountains.  The sounds of drums grew and with it, he could hear snatches of chanting and the occasional cheer or scream.

Minutes later he topped the rise and looked down on the sacred valley where the Midsummer Moot was to be held.  The sight stopped him in his tracks.

The four clans of the eastern Jagged Peaks were all gathered here.  Bladesong, Skullcrushers, Fireaxe and Goblinsplitters were camped in a huge sprawling mess of canvas and campfires.  A river split the valley into two and two tributaries ran down to meet near the middle.  Thus was the valley naturally split into four sections and each clan took a section as its own.  The bottom of the valley was left free and there a huge bonfire had been erected and was lighting up the mountainside.  Near the fire was a great roped-off area where the official Moot would be held.  Though every member of the tribes was here, only the senior members of each clan would be permitted into that area to attend the formal gathering.

All around the huge bonfire Ivar could see the silhouettes of figures dancing in the firelight.  A group of Feral sat and hammered out a rhythm on their drums.  Some had wooden flutes that played out a melody only discernable now he had entered the valley proper.  The dance of the Feral was performed the same way they fought, the same way they did most things:  with passion and wild abandonment.

Ivar resumed his march, heading down alongside the small tributary that led right into the centre of the valley.  Before he got to the edge of the clan below him he had picked out the standards and knew this was where he wanted to go.  He was approaching the Bladesong clan.

Tor Bladesong was a legend in the Jagged Peaks and was a figure well-known across the Kingdom of Albion.  Though he was born and raised a Feral, at a young age he had travelled south into the kingdom and there had met up with Lady Fortuna, a freshly dubbed Knight of the Sun.  The two of them had joined three others and formed a mercenary group which became known as the Fellowship of the Sun.  The timing was propitious as about this time the terrible Chaos Wars began and they were one of the key groups responsible for the survival of the kingdom itself.  After the Chaos Wars Tor had returned to the Jagged Peaks where he had brought the eastern Feral under his command.

That was nearly thirty years ago, and Ivar believed it was time someone challenged the self-styled ruler of the mountains.  Ivar Svenson had decided he would be that man. 

But tonight was not a time for challenges.  Tonight was a time for revelry and celebrating all that being a mountain man meant.  Tonight he would drink his fill and live only for the moment. 

Tonight he would be Feral.

*

The four companions rode slowly up the wide mountain trail, two abreast.  The sun was climbing in the east and the temperature was rising.  Jaeden felt it most in his armour made from heavy rings of iron over thick padded wool.  There was a gentle breeze which took the oppressive edge off the heat, but he took his waterskin from his side and emptied the last of it down his throat with a relieved sigh.  "How much further?" the warrior asked, squeezing the last drops from the doeskin vessel.

Riding next to Dancer, Caerdic responded, "Not far."  Wiping his brow with the back of his green sleeve he continued, "Perhaps another hour.  We should arrive at the appointed location just before noon."

"Is it always this hot up here in the mountains?" asked Thia, crunching down on a shiny red apple she had taken from her saddlebag.  She held her reins lightly, letting her horse follow the two ahead up the trail.

"At this time of year, often yes," replied Chi alongside her on his own riding horse.  "Though this year is hotter than most - and drier."  Of all of them, Chi seemed least affected by the heat.  He was wearing loose-fitting, black cotton trousers with a baggy khaki cotton shirt.  Wrapped around his waist was a thicker overcoat.  He would typically wear this in the mornings and evenings around their campfire but during the heat of the day, he would wrap it around his midriff.

The four of them rode on in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.  Before long Caerdic reined in, bringing them all to a halt.  "Does any of you know what day it is today?" he asked them.

"Not sure exactly," replied Jaeden as the others shook their heads.

"It's Midsummer's Day.  Down south in Littlebrook, the city will be celebrating and up here in the Jagged Peaks the Feral are no different.  Each year at this time they hold their Midsummer Moot, where the four clans of the east all meet up to discuss whatever matters they deem important, to drink mead and fight each other for positions of honour.  It is when their leaders are chosen and when any big decisions are made that involve all the clans.  Today we will endeavour to unite the Feral under a common cause.  Our cause."

Less than an hour later the four riders topped the rise and looked down onto the sacred valley where the clans had gathered.  Jaeden swore loudly and Thia let out a low whistle of appreciation.  Only Chi looked on impassively at the assembled host of the mountain men.

*

The barbarians stopped what they were doing as an old man stepped through the rope circle into the Moot.  Elder Halvar shook his ceremonial staff angrily and moved to confront the old man.  "Who are you and how dare you disturb the Midsummer Moot?" he demanded.

"My name is Caerdic and I come to call the Feral to war!" the old man shouted, raising his arms and spinning to see all those around him.

"No one calls the Feral to war, save the High Chieftain," replied Halvar.

"Then I challenge the High Chieftain," declared Caerdic.  "Not to the leadership of the clans," he clarified as disbelieving mutterings coursed through the assembled men.  "But I invoke the ancient custom of Moktar."

The elder considered this.  "It is curious that you know so much of our ways, outsider.  Moktar has not been called for many generations.  But it is within your rights to challenge the High Chieftain, and if you win, to demand one act from the clans."  Caerdic nodded in agreement.  "Then prepare yourself, Caerdic, to face High Chieftain Tor Bladesong, Master of the Northern Reaches and Ruler of the Jagged Peaks!" 

A huge cheer erupted from the gathered Feral as a massive figure rose from its seat at one side of the Moot.  Standing over six and a half feet tall, Tor Bladesong was half-human, half-orc.  Half-breeds were not so uncommon up here in the mountains and half-orcs were known for their ferocity and power.  Tor was one of the most powerful and most ferocious.  He held a sheathed two-handed sword easily in one hand and grinned a toothy grin at the old man before him.  His face bore the tattoo of a sword which marked him as of the Bladesong clan.  Caerdic looked up at the huge barbarian leader and was about to respond when another figure stepped forward. 

This Feral was also tall, standing just slightly smaller than Tor and almost as barrel-chested as the ruler.  He was bare from the waist up and held a massive greataxe over one shoulder.  He had no facial tattoo which was the exception among the Feral.  Eyes narrowed as the Feral looked at the newcomer.

"Who are you, clanless one?" asked the elder of the new arrival.  "And what is your business here?"

"I am Ivar Svenson," declared the warrior.  "And I challenge Tor Bladesong for the right to command the clans!"  A muted cheer went up from a few of those watching but most were silent in the face of this new development. 

Elder Halvar stepped into the middle of the Moot and shook his staff to command attention.  "We have two challenges!" he declared to the throng.  "One is against the High Chieftain for rulership of the clans, the other is the ancient rite of Moktar.  We shall resolve the challenge upon the High Chieftain's position first and the winner will then deal with the custom of Moktar.   Make space!  Let everyone move back beyond the ropes and we will have our contest."

Chapter 29 - Moktar

Ivar Svenson swung his huge axe around lazily, loosening up tight muscles in his back and shoulders.  He cracked his neck from side to side, hearing the joints popping.  Around him, he could sense the growing anticipation of the horde. 

Challenges to the High Chieftain did not happen often and Tor had never been challenged.  He had been the one to bring the four clans under his control after the Chaos Wars and too many of the Feral still looked upon the old half-breed with respect and awe.  Certainly, he had deserved that attitude thirty years ago, but now Ivar saw an old man, past his prime, ready to be replaced.

Tor Bladesong stood stock still, feet planted shoulder-width apart.  His great sword was still in its scabbard which he held in his left hand, just below the pommel.  He closed his eyes, tilted back his head and smelled the fresh mountain air.  He smelt wildflowers and the leftover scent of roasted meats from many campfires.  He smelt the unmistakable odour of too many men gathered in too small an area.  He smelt a gathering of the Feral.

Ivar moved through a series of warm-up strikes, swinging the incredibly heavy axe with controlled power and precision.  His ability to make the weighty axe head stop in mid-strike, with accuracy and balance, impressed many of the onlookers.  Though Ivar was clanless and thus unknown by most, his display of weaponry was leading many of the non-Bladesong watchers to think he would be a real challenge to the High Chieftain.  After all, no one had challenged Tor Bladesong in the nearly thirty years he had ruled.  And he wasn't young anymore.

"Ready!" commanded Elder Halvar.

Ivar spun in a complete circle, this axe rising up and over, coming down in an incredibly powerful strike which he stopped dead an inch from the floor, the blade perfectly still.  He cricked his neck again and drew the blade up and behind him, turning sideways, axe prepared to strike.  "Ready!" he replied.

Tor Bladesong opened his eyes.  He still had not moved and his blade was still in its sheath.  "Ready," he confirmed, letting a long, slow breath out through his nose.

"Fight!"

Instantly, Ivar stepped forward, axe swinging horizontally with incredible power and speed.  The onlookers realized that he had been underplaying his strength and control when warming up; perhaps lulling the High Chieftain into a false sense of security.  The axe moved impossibly fast, almost as if powered by something beyond just physical strength.

The double-bladed broad-axe flew straight and true, directly for the midriff of Tor Bladesong.  To those watching from the side, it appeared that the middle-aged half-orc had not even realized the attack was coming, so fast and powerful was it.

And then suddenly Tor moved.

Dropping to one knee he bent his neck to the side, lowering his head just enough that the axe flew a finger's width above his ear.  As he dropped, his right hand came across to grasp the handle of his sword.  In one fluid movement, the sword came out of the scabbard and slashed upwards and across.

Ivar Svenson dropped to the floor, instantly dead, split open from hip to shoulder before he had even completed his strike.  His greataxe flew from lifeless fingers to land in the crowd.

Tor slowly rose back to his feet, cleaned the blood from the blade with a flick of his wrist and slid the great sword back into the scabbard he was still holding.  He closed his eyes and smelt the scent of wildflowers.  This time they were mingled with blood.

*

Caerdic stepped into the circle as Ivar's body was dragged away.  He eyed Tor appreciatively, nodding his head.  "Congratulations High Chieftain," he complimented the Feral.  Tor just stood and looked at him.

Elder Halvar stepped up.  "You know our ways, outsider.  So you know you must fight honourably.  No cheating, no duplicity and no magic."  The look he was giving the old, green-robed man said he did not for one second believe Caerdic could defeat Tor in personal combat.

"Indeed, elder, I know your traditions.  And I know that in the case of Moktar, I can appoint a champion to fight for me."

Elder Halvar nodded thoughtfully.  "That is so," he said.  "None of the Feral would ever think to let another man fight their battles but this is acceptable for the rite of Moktar."

"In which case, let me introduce you to my champion, Jaeden of Littlebrook," Caerdic said, stepping aside and making way for the ex-knight. 

Jaeden strode into the rope circle.  He was wearing the chainmail armour that Sir Harken had gifted him at his departure from Littlebrook.  On his left arm was strapped his shield and his broad sword was in its scabbard.  Jaeden approached Tor and bowed respectfully. 

"Sir Tor," he told the half-breed, "Your name is well known in the lands of my birth.  I know that you were knighted by the king for your efforts in the Chaos Wars many years ago.  It is an honour to meet you."  The half-orc merely nodded, saying nothing.

"I offer you time to recover from the ordeal of your last challenge," Jaeden told the High Chieftain.  "If it pleases you, we can delay this fight until tomorrow?"  Tor merely threw back his head and laughed long and hard at the offer.

"I will take that as a no, then," responded Jaeden, pulling down the visor on his full-faced helm.  He spun on his heel and moved to the edge of the arena, drawing his broadsword from its scabbard.  Tor stayed exactly where he had been the entire time, his only movement to plant his feet shoulder-width apart and close his eyes once more.

"Fight!" the command echoed around the valley moments later.

Jaeden did not immediately advance nor attack recklessly.  He had seen how easily the canny half-orc had defeated a seemingly powerful and fast, but over-confident opponent.  Jaeden would not rush in.

Taking a step into range he thrust his broad blade at the half-orc, without over-committing.  This forced Tor to react.  The hulking warrior took a half-step backwards, drawing his blade and using the flat of it to easily brush Jaeden's exploratory thrust aside.  The movement confirmed what Jaeden suspected but hadn't been sure of:  something was wrong with Tor's left leg.

Jaeden had lapped up the stories of the Chaos Wars as a child.   They had ended seven years before he had been born and were just being retold in popular fireside tales when he was young.  He had always had two favourites in the Fellowship of the Sun:  Lady Fortuna, the brave and beautiful knight, and Tor Bladesong, the half-orc barbarian from the north who was the undisputed master of the sword.

Jaeden had paid attention to all the details of the stories about Tor Bladesong and his many famous battles.  One of them recounted the time Tor had faced off against his father up in the fortress of Mount Macarack.  Though Tor had won the battle, his father had struck a terrible blow to Tor's left knee.  The priests had of course healed it, but Jaeden knew that even the power of the healing Light had drawbacks.  Those who received terrible wounds were often troubled with pains and stiffness years later.  He guessed that Tor's left knee was not very mobile and that there was a weakness there he could exploit.  He just had to figure out how to do it.

He was broken out of his reverie when Tor launched a huge two-handed overhead attack.  Jaeden instinctively raised his shield but mostly side-stepped to get out of the line of attack.  The greatsword smashed downwards and Jaeden turned it into a glancing blow by angling the shield and deflecting, not blocking the attack.  As he did so he countered with a level swing of his broadsword, unconsciously seeing an opening and moving to exploit it.  Tor simply spun around the attack, disengaging and returning to his starting position.

But Jaeden noted how the spin, executed on the left leg, was not as smooth as the older man's other movements.  His leg was his weakness.  

Jaeden moved in then, using his footwork to his advantage.  Though the ex-knight was clad in heavy chainmail and the barbarian was wearing just light furs, Jaeden had trained for years in full plate armour and moved like a dancer in the relatively light chains.  He moved in and out, left and right, probing, swinging, thrusting.  He manoeuvred the older man around the arena as much as possible, focusing heavily on forcing Tor to shift with his left leg.

Tor was light on his feet for a big man and had years of experience as a fighter.  He was extremely economical and efficient in his movements.  He didn't move when he didn't need to, and he didn't move any more than was necessary.  He conserved energy and power.  But it was high noon on Midsummer's day and the heat in the mountains was draining.

Tor knew he was in trouble the moment the youngster had started to move him around.  When he realized the young fighter was forcing him to use his left leg a lot, he realized this canny warrior knew of his weakness and was working to exploit it.

The older warrior tried to manoeuvre into positions where his right leg was dominant but the quick-footed ex-knight kept working him with his sword so that the older man had no choice.  The heat was beating down like a second opponent, hammering at Tor's head and chest, sapping him of energy.

Suddenly it was over.  Jaeden moved unexpectedly to his right, Tor's left.  He cross-stepped three times in rapid succession, then spun in place, whipping his broadsword tightly around.  As the blade came out of the spin he changed the angle downwards at the last second.

Tor tried to follow the move but his leg was too stiff, too tired and too painful, no matter how strong his will was.  He managed to raise his two-handed sword to block the path of the spinning blade, which was headed for his waist, but at the last second, it changed direction and dipped, slipping past his defences.  The flat of Jaeden's blade smashed into Tor's left knee with a terrible crunching sound and the High Chieftain collapsed to the floor.  To the older man's credit, he did not cry out and tried to raise his sword to block the follow-up, but Jaeden already had his blade at his throat.

*

"You won the trial of combat," Elder Halvar conceded, looking at Caerdic.  "Now, what is it that you desire of the clans?"

"Well, first things first," responded Caerdic.  "The High Chieftain is injured, but Jaeden here can help."  He looked at Tor, who was still laying on his back in the arena.  "If you will accept aid, High Chieftain?"

Tor looked up at Jaeden who was standing above him.  He nodded warily.

Jaeden put his blade away into its scabbard and knelt next to the half-orc.  Putting his hand over the older man's left knee he shut his eyes and called upon the Light, opening a tiny portal to the Void.  Feeling the warmth pour through his palm he opened his eyes to see the barbarian's knee glowing with a soft radiance.  Tor was staring intently at him.

"You use the power of the sun," he commented, not an accusation but more an observation.

Jaeden nodded.  "I was trained as a Knight of the Sun," he told the half-orc.  "They taught me how to heal the injured."  He stood and offered a hand to Tor.  The Feral took it and Jaeden helped him to his feet. 

Tor tested his knee and found it to be in good shape, as strong as it had been these last years.  He nodded gratefully at Jaeden.  "A long time it has been since I last received such healing by a knight."

"Lady Fortuna," Jaeden guessed.

"Indeed," Tor nodded.  He moved back to his place of honour at the edge of the roped-off area.  "So, what is it that you want of the clans?" Tor repeated to Caerdic.

The old man moved forward and swept his gaze across the gathered Feral, from Elder Halvar to High Chieftain Tor, past all the gathered clan leaders till his eyes finished back on Tor once again.  "By the rights granted to me through the power of Moktar, I call the clans to join under one banner, for one cause.  To sweep down out of your mountain homes and pillage the lowlands.  I call upon you to make war on the Kingdom of Albion!"

Silence descended.  Everyone knew it would be an extremely dangerous task.  The settlements of Albion were well-defended.  The men were thoroughly versed in warfare.  They were excellently equipped; a fact emphasized by Jaeden's chainmail, shield and finely forged broadsword. The challenger's defeat of Tor showed that the Feral were not invincible.  Many would die if the High Chieftain agreed to honour this command.

"You ask much, even with the power of Moktar on your side," commented Tor as he considered the order.  "Never before have the Feral raided the south lands as one."

"Oh but they have," refuted Caerdic.  "As you well know, during the Chaos Wars your father led them south."

"No," argued Tor.  "He led some of the clans south.  The Bladesong and Skullcrusher clans never followed his lead.  We stayed true to the old ways."

Thirty years ago the four tribes were split into two alliances.  The Goblinsplitters and Fireaxes had raided south into the Furrow Hills, striking at the farming communities there, led by Tor's father, Trant.  Trant had fallen under the power of the Demon Prince.  The Bladesong and Skullcrusher clans, led by Tor, had fought on the side of Albion. In the end, Tor faced Trant in a battle that decided the fate of the north.

"There is much to be gained from uniting as Caerdic suggests," came in another voice, this one melodic and soft, but magically carrying to all those assembled.  Thia Moonsong stepped into the centre of the arena.  All eyes turned to the half-fey.

"Look around you," she prompted, subtly opening a rift to the Void to draw arcane energy into her words, giving them power.  "The Jagged Peaks are a wild and beautiful place for certain.  But beauty does not feed your children.  When autumn comes in the south lands and the men there are reaping their harvest, bringing in the wheat and corn, you will be sheltering deep in your caves, wondering how you will survive the long winter you know is coming.

"The southerners have done nothing to earn this bounty, other than living in the lowlands.  You are hardier men, stronger and sturdier.  You could also live longer, more comfortable and better lives if you just take what is there for the taking. 

"Throw off the shackles of your old ways, whilst staying true to your customs and your roots.  Remain the Feral, but turn your attention to the soft southerners who live privileged and easy lives.  Take their lands.  Make them your own.  Benefit from the bounty of the fertile soil in the south. 

"Join as one and invade northern Albion," she commanded them, her voice rising in volume.  "Not just because of the ancient custom of Moktar, but because it would make the Feral a stronger, more prosperous people!"

A cheer went up from the gathered barbarians.  They knew the south lands were rich and bountiful and they would live better lives if they successfully invaded there.  Besides, the rite of Moktar had been invoked so they were honour bound to fulfil the call.

Only two men appeared unhappy with the result.  In the main seat of honour, Tor Bladesong was reminded of the Chaos Wars when the power of evil magic had corrupted his father, driving him to lead an invasion of the south.  Something about the events of today nagged at his instincts and unsettled him.

And off to one side, unnoticed by most, stood Chi.  His face was an impassive mask, a skill learnt as part of his Ghostwalker training.  But underneath the veil, he was not happy to be associated with the Feral.  He still remembered being ripped from his home at the age of six by these barbaric, savage and uncaring people.  He had no wish to be allied with them now.

Chapter 30 - Callindrill

"I'm not happy," Chi stated plainly.

The three companions sat around a campfire in the next valley over from where the Midsummer Moot was concluding.  It was the day after Midsummer's Day and the festival was at an end. The Feral would be partying long into the night tonight and the companions had taken their leave and left the sacred valley.

Caerdic had told the barbarian horde that he would come and call upon them soon.  He had told the companions that he had important business to attend to and would find them forthwith.  With that, he had simply spoken a word and disappeared in a flash of arcane energy.

Now Jaeden, Thia and Chi were alone with time to consider all that had happened in the last day and they were left with more questions than answers.

"I'm not happy either," Jaeden agreed, taking a long draft from his wineskin.  Swallowing it he looked at Thia.  "I had no idea that Caerdic and you planned to get the Feral to invade Albion.  I may be unhappy with the Kingdom for all that happened to me, but I don't wish to see the innocent farmers of the north punished for the wrong-doings of the leaders of their land."

"The Feral are violent and dangerous people," Chi cautioned.  "I have firsthand experience of what it is like to be raided by them and it's not something I would wish on anyone.  Why would you encourage this, Thia?" he asked, a scowl on his face.

Thia took the last bite out of her shiny, red apple and threw the core onto the fire where it sizzled.  She chewed slowly on the mouthful, considering her response before answering.  "Honestly, I don't know," she replied at last.  "Caerdic told me it was vital that the Feral agreed to join his cause, and I just saw an opportunity to add weight to his argument, and maybe add an angle that would appeal to the barbarians.  I admit I didn't give any thought to the impact it would have on the people the Feral would be raiding."

"Caerdic's words certainly seem to have great power," Chi noted, thinking back to his time training under the mystic as a Ghostwalker.

"Indeed," mused Thia absently, her mind whirring. 

"What have we done?" asked Jaeden.  "I do not want to be responsible for bringing Albion to war with the Feral."

"Me neither," responded Chi.  "Thia?" he asked looking at the half-fey who appeared not to be taking any notice of the conversation.

"One moment," she responded, slowly standing.  She moved slightly away from the fire and closed her eyes.  She brought to mind the emotions she was feeling when she thought of Caerdic and the Feral: anger, passion and a drive for conquest.  She added in the shame and concern she could sense emanating from her friends.  She imagined packaging these emotions up into a box and then imagined holding a huge sledgehammer in her hands.   Using the seething power of all these contained emotions she forced open a small rift into the Void and drew forth a stream of arcane energy.   Speaking a word of power aloud she used that force to drive the mental sledgehammer straight down onto the box of emotions.  The box smashed into splinters and all the emotional energy and feelings were scattered to the four winds.

Thia took a long, deep breath, feeling suddenly as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.   Looking at her two companions she could tell they felt the same.  "We have been charmed," she told them.  "Caerdic had us under a very subtle enchantment.  I'm not sure for how long, but it explains how he was able to manipulate us into doing his bidding."

Chi nodded his agreement, feeling free for the first time in some days.  "In which case, we should stop blaming each other, and look at Caerdic for some answers.  What is he trying to achieve?  And why?"  Chi thought he knew, but was still unsure about sharing everything he knew with his companions just yet.

"Bastard!" exclaimed Jaeden.  "He manipulated us into doing his will.  I have no wish to be a part of this game."

"I have a theory," said Thia suddenly.  "I need to prove it but I suspect I may know now what Alandriel suspected and why he left Sylvandale.  I need to return to Mount Macarack."

*

"Welcome back Thia Moonsong and company.  All who visit Mount Macarack wishing to learn are welcomed," came the formal greeting as the huge portcullis was raised before them. 

The three weary companions rode their horses into the courtyard through the series of entrance chambers and gates.  There they were greeted by Dame Rosette, the leader of the contingent of Knights of the Sun stationed here.  "Welcome all," she received them.  "Apologies that none of the monks is here to greet you.  They are dealing with a slight crisis in the Great Library at present," she informed them.

"Crisis?" asked Thia, dismounting.

"Yes, something to do with a parasite infestation," replied the knight.  "But do not let that concern you as it is nothing to do with you.  May we offer you accommodation and a meal?"

"I am sorry to be so blunt," responded Thia, "but I wish to go straight to the library.  There is something I need to find out and I need to do it now."

"That may be possible, but you will need to speak to the monks about it.  I am not entirely sure what is happening down there, but it has them all very concerned." 

Dame Rosette summoned one of her knights who led the three of them down the dark stairs into the depths of the Great Library where they were soon met by Abbot Kieran.  

"Well met all," the abbot greeted them with a smile.  "I am pleased to see you return so quickly, but apologise if we are not at our most welcoming at present."

"What is happening?" asked Thia as the abbot led them along a shadowy corridor towards the main gallery.

"Parasites," replied the abbot gravely.  "Some sort of insect has found its way into one part of the library and has devastated the collection there.  It appears to subsist on parchment.  We are fighting a losing battle with this pest and I worry for the future of the whole library if it spreads.  But enough of my woes.  Which section of the library did you wish to visit?"

"Ancient Albion," replied Thia quickly.  "The same section I visited last time I was here.  I think I may know what Alandriel came to look up."

"Ah, well it is best you hurry then, as that section is precisely the one which has been struck by the infestation.  Quite the coincidence."

Chi, following along behind the two with Jaeden, knew coincidence had nothing to do with it.

The section titled 'Ancient Albion' was full of bustling monks.  A part of it was roped off and the shelves there were emptied of books.  The monks in the area were painstakingly pulling books from the other shelves and cataloguing them as they were placed onto trolleys.  Other monks then pulled the trolleys away to a distant part of the library where they were being placed into quarantine until it could be proven they were not infested. 

Thia moved into the room and headed directly to one of the back shelves which had yet to be attended by the monks.  It was far away from the section of the room that had empty shelves.  Jaeden and Chi followed her whilst the abbot made his excuses and hurried off on some important errand.

Thia scanned the shelf rapidly and quickly located the book she was after.  She pulled it from the shelf and moved to a nearby reading table which was illuminated by one of the clever magical lamps.  Setting the book on the table she opened it respectfully and began carefully leafing through the pages, her slim finger tracing down the ancient-looking script therein.  Moments later she stopped and a big grin spread across her face.

"It's true!" she declared to the others.  "This must be what Alandriel suspected and came here to confirm, though how much he knew for certain is unclear."

"You're not wrong, it's unclear," commented Jaeden.  "Respectfully, Thia, I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Oh, sorry, yes.  Let me explain.  It may be nothing but it may be significant.  Have you heard of Callindrill?" she asked them both.

Chi shook his head but Jaeden nodded.  "In the seminary, we learned about the history of Albion and the arcane.  Callindrill was some ancient wizard, I think?"

"Indeed, but not just any old wizard," replied Thia.  "Callindrill was one of the most powerful magi to have ever lived.  He was active in this land about fifteen hundred years ago.  He was the childhood friend of King Eldred, the chieftain who united the tribes and formed the Kingdom of Albion becoming its first king.  It is said Callindrill was instrumental in helping Eldred conquer the tribes.  Callindrill learned his craft by studying with the Keri-heb.  He also understood Oratory, which is my talent.  And, the critical part of the missing puzzle:  Callindrill was not his given name.  That was Caerdic.

"So our friend the druid, the mystic and the coffee merchant, who wears the symbol of the Keri-heb and certainly wields great magical power shares the same name as the most powerful mage of all time.

"In short, I believe we have been dealing with an ancient archmage, who has somehow returned from the dead, after fifteen hundred years!"

*

"This all just feels impossible," claimed Jaeden as they sat up in their accommodation, snacking on cold meats and supping some of the local mead the monks brewed at the abbey.

"Unlikely, I agree," responded Thia, taking a sip of the honey drink.  "Highly unlikely, but not impossible, if you consider all the extraordinary things Callindrill achieved in his lifetime.  Half the aberrations you hear about roaming the Barren Scrub are said to be his failed experiments.  Most of the mystic items you have ever heard rumours of were probably crafted by him.  He was exceptional."

"Is it not more likely that it's just coincidence?  Caerdic is not all that uncommon a name in this region."

"Yes, quite possible.  But our Caerdic described himself as a Guardian of Albion.  That is one of the many titles Callindrill took for himself during his lifetime."

"So we are dealing with an educated and powerful mage who models himself after a legend?  But not the legend himself," suggested the ex-knight.

"Again, quite possible.  There is only one way to be sure," commented Thia.

"How?"

"To find out if Caerdic is Callindrill somehow returned to life, we need to travel deep into the Barren Scrub.  There, according to legend, located in the same place where Callindrill first gained his power, he built his tomb.  We need to enter the Tomb of Callindrill and discover the truth of his potential resurrection."

Jaeden sat back in his armchair and let out a low whistle.  "I'll say one thing for your company Thia," he said, "It's never boring."

"Chi?" Thia turned to the Ghostwalker who was sitting off to the side at a desk, carefully writing something on a piece of parchment.

The Ghostwalker looked up from this penmanship.  "Yes?"

"What do you think?" she prompted him.

"I think I need to get this letter anonymously into the hands of the abbot as soon as possible," he told them.

"What is the letter about?"

"It explains how the monks can counteract the book moth infestation they are dealing with," he replied.

"Counter the parasites?  How do you know what they are and how to deal with them?" asked Jaeden, clearly confused.

"Because I put them there.  And I did so at Caerdic's instruction.  If he truly is Callindrill, as you suspect, he was trying to destroy all the books which might have enabled you to make that connection."

"More evidence!" Thia exclaimed excitedly. 

"Looks like we have a trip into the wilderness ahead of us then," declared Jaeden.  "What do you know about the Tomb of Callindrill?" he asked Thia.

"Not much yet, but I did recover this from the library," she replied, pulling a tome from her backpack.  It was a chronicle of the Chaos Wars.  "It has a whole section on the tomb from when the Fellowship of the Sun found it during the Chaos Wars."

"Of course," replied Jaeden.  "They went there looking for a mystical book or some such, didn't they?"

"That's right.  This means the hardest part is done for us, and that's finding the site of the tomb itself.  Unfortunately, if Callindrill truly has come back to life then the fact that the Fellowship plundered the tomb thirty years ago will be meaningless," she said.  "Callindrill will have had time to reset any traps he might have fashioned and to create, summon or animate whatever guardians he so wished."

"We had best be on our guard then," commented Chi.

"Then let's head out first thing tomorrow, whilst we still have good weather," suggested Jaeden.  "And before Caerdic summons us for his next job."

"Indeed.  But now we best make sure that note falls into the abbot's hands, Chi," suggested Thia.

"I will go and put it in his office," Chi told them.

"How will you get in and out of there with no one seeing you?" asked Jaeden.

"Don't worry.  I will be like a ghost," he told them with a smile.

Chapter 31 - The Tomb of Callindrill

The wind whipped sand and dust into their faces as the three travellers approached the rocky plateau.  It was the only significant outcropping for miles in any direction. They had been making for it since spotting it a few hours ago and had pushed their horses on into the deepening gloom of twilight, desperate to reach it before nightfall.

As they got within a few hundred feet, the elevation of the rocky hilltop cut off the majority of the wind, enabling them to look up at the hillside more clearly.  What they saw took their breath away.

Built into the side of the plateau was the front of a huge sandstone fortress.  Such was the quality of the craftsmanship that it would be virtually impossible to spot the structure from any distance away, but from this close up it was possible to make out the towers, walls and minarets.  There was an entire stronghold built into the side of the hill.

The style of the work was that of distant Khemit where sandstone was the main construction material of choice.  The building appeared to be fashioned from one continual, unbroken piece of stone, such was the exceptional workmanship involved.  Or perhaps, it was not built, but instead was raised from the very earth by immense magical power.  Anyone who knew the purpose of this fortress might have guessed it was the latter.

This was the fabled Tomb of Callindrill, the final resting place of one of the most storied and powerful magi in the region.

An obvious grand entrance porch invited the visitor in but a huge pair of weathered bronze doors stood closed, shutting them out.  Great spells and inscriptions were carved across the lintel and the doors, though whether these were to keep trespassers out or the inhabitants of the tomb in could not easily be guessed.

Jaeden led Dancer up to the shelter of the porchway, glad for the respite from the stinging wind.  The stone floor was covered with a dusting of sand and shingle, blown in from the wastes of the Barren Scrub.  A quick check revealed no signs of any tracks in the dust but the way the wind swirled around, shifting the sands, meant that any tracks would very quickly be eliminated.  He slid off his mount and moved to tie the warhorse up to a broken column at the side of the entrance.  Chi and Thia followed suit.

Thia moved to a position in front of the doors and looked up at the runes and sigils covering the portal.  "Powerful magic once protected this place," she announced.  "Though if it still does remains to be seen.  I wish Alandriel was here," she added. "He had a knack for sensing the presence of the arcane - a skill which would have been extremely useful right now."

"Well, if we have no way to know if it's safe, there appears to be only one option," declared Jaeden striding forward.  "Try it and see."  He reached the huge bronze doors and leaned on the leftmost one.  Pushing with all his strength he was rewarded when the door shifted inwards an inch.  Then it stuck on something.

"Looks like it will open, assuming the roof hasn't caved in behind the door," noted Chi.

Jaeden moved to the horses and untethered Dancer.  Ushering the horse to the door he put the powerful beast's shoulder to the portal and encouraged him to push.  Dancer seemed to instinctively understand and pushed hard into the great door.  Inch by inch the door shifted open until it was wide enough for a man in armour to slip through.  "Easy boy," called Jaeden, guiding Dancer away from the doorway.  "You've done enough now.  Have a rest."  He led the horse to the column and tethered him again, taking out a bag of oats for the three horses to share.

"I have a trick I would like to try," Chi told them.  "As part of my training as a Ghostwalker, Caerdic taught me to extend my senses, using energy pulled from the Void.  It allows me to heighten my vision to the extent that I can virtually see in the dark.  I believe it should be possible to extend the power to you two.  Is it okay if I try?"

"Of course," said Jaeden, "It's bound to be dark in there, and being able to see without needing to advertise our presence with torches seems like an extremely handy idea if you can manage it."

Chi bid them hold hands, and then shutting his eyes he calmed his breathing as he had been taught.  He reached out to the Void and pulled energy from the shadowy realm where the Light and Darkness were in balance.  He drew an understanding of the Darkness and merged it with the awareness of the Light.  Folding them around each other he focussed the result onto his senses, and then, following the connection of the two hands he was holding, he extended that to his companions.  

"Amazing," reported Jaeden.  "I feel a bit strange but feel like I can sense more somehow.  It's hard to explain."  Thia said nothing but merely smiled at Chi and nodded.

"One more thing," said Chi.  "As we step through these doors I am going to shroud us in shadows and silence.  It is not foolproof but it will help mask the noise of our passing," he glanced meaningfully at Jaeden's heavy metal armour as he said this.  "It will also make us harder for any creatures that may inhabit the tomb to spot us before we see them."

"Let's go then," replied Jaeden, drawing his fine broadsword and hefting his shield.  Moving forward he slipped through the gap in the doors and entered the Tomb of Callindrill, Thia and Chi close behind him.

*

The interior of the tomb was pitch black but Chi's sense-enhancing magic meant it seemed like a moonlit night to the group as they moved onwards.  The architecture of the burial edifice was plain and simple.  A long, straight hallway led directly into the rocky hillside.  Every twenty feet or so the straight line of the hallway was broken up by an alcove.  In each was a statue of one strange aberration or another. 

Thia quietly pointed each one out, naming the creature and its reputed powers as they passed by.  "Each of these was created by Callindrill," she told them.  "Now many of them roam these lands and beyond."

Ahead of them, they could make out another pair of huge bronze doors, similar to the ones barring the entrance.  Unlike the weathered pair they had already passed through, these were in immaculate condition as if they had just been erected.  Again they were covered with glyphs and inscriptions which Thia stopped to examine.  "These are not the same runes as the ones on the front doors," she told them, quietly.  "I can't fully understand but something here seems to hint at 'feeding' and 'sustaining'.  It's all very archaic and more than a little cryptic.  I'm not sure we should open these doors," she warned them.  "I don't know what will happen if we do, but it doesn't feel like it will be a good thing."

"What choice do we have?" whispered Chi.  "There is no other route available to us," he pointed out.

"Agreed," concurred Jaeden.  "I suggest we just open the doors and deal with whatever happens."

"Has anyone else noticed that seems to be his answer to everything?" muttered Thia under her breath, but with no better suggestion, she shrugged and indicated the warrior should do just that.

Jaeden put his shoulder to the portal and leaned into it.  "A little help?" he groaned and Chi quickly added his strength to the effort.  The huge portal would not budge.

"It's harder to shift than the main doors," Chi observed.

"I think I may see why," remarked Thia, still studying the inscriptions.  "There is a rune here which I think I recognise.  I think it is holding the door shut and if I say it out loud, that should release the enchantment, at least for long enough for us to open it."

"That is a lot of conjecture," pointed out Jaeden.

"Well, I suggest I just try it and we deal with whatever happens," said Thia, repeating Jaeden's earlier comment.  The warrior smiled in recognition of the turn of phrase and nodded.

Thia stepped up and read the rune out loud.  She felt a surge of energy as the word of power ripped a hole into the Void and summoned the arcane.  A brief flash of light sparkled in the darkness as the glyph lit up.  Then it was gone.  "Try the door now, quickly," Thia urged and the others put their shoulders to it.   The door slid easily open on perfectly balanced hinges, revealing a large chamber beyond. 

The square hall was some fifty feet on a side and rose on arched buttresses to a ceiling around the same height above.  Two thin, low, side passages led off the main chamber into the darkness.

Where the hallway they were in had plain, unadorned walls, this new room was covered with frescos and paintings.  With their enhanced senses, they could see these would display a riot of colour, had any light been falling upon them.  The frescoes depicted the life and times of Callindrill. 

They told the story of his childhood as an orphan in the south.  Of how he became friends with Eldred, a chieftain's son, and how they had gone into the wilderness in search of a cure for Eldred's father when he fell ill. 

On that trip Caerdic, as he was known then, had found an ancient tablet with words of power inscribed on it.  Reading that tablet had summoned a terrible storm which crashed upon the boys.  Though Eldred implored Caerdic to stop, he kept reading until a lightning strike flashed down as if to punish the boy for meddling with forces he could not understand.  But the lightning did not hit Caerdic.  Instead, his friend Eldred pushed Caerdic aside at the last moment and he had been struck.  The bolt nearly killed Eldred and destroyed his right hand.

The frescoes went on to tell how in early adulthood Caerdic left his homeland and crossed the Great Desert and then the sea to travel to the lands of Khemit where he enlisted as one of the Keri-heb.  There he learned great power over many years and took the name Callindrill.

Eventually, the paintings showed, he returned to the lands of his birth and helped Eldred to bring the tribes under control, forging the Kingdom of Albion.  Eldred became the first king and Callindrill stayed as his advisor.

It was during this time that he worked on his many incredible creations; both items and creatures.  One of his greatest creations was the sword that he gifted to his friend, Eldred.  As Callindrill works on these creations, he began to realize his mortality and decided to create a great tomb for his transition into the afterlife.  He decided to build it in the same location where he had found that fated tablet in the wastelands so he returned here and constructed the tomb they were now in.

Then the great dragon awoke in the north and threatened Albion.  Callindrill returned to the kingdom, telling Eldred he would face Ashardalon alone.  He travelled to the dragon's lair and a terrible battle was fought.  Callindrill killed Ashardalon but was fatally wounded.  His followers, led by Eldred's wife Queen Lynna herself, brought his body back to his tomb and there they sealed themselves in.   

The frescoes then detailed how Queen Lynna and the other followers enacted terrible rites which Callindrill had left for them.  These rituals were designed to ensure Callindrill would achieve immortality.  The incantations they chanted completed the transformation and turned Callindrill into a lich, a powerful undead creature that could never die.

The energy needed to drive this incredible transformation was immense.  The pictures did not indicate if the followers fully understood what they were doing at the time, but they did show what happened to Queen Lynna and Callindrill's followers who enacted the ritual:  their very souls were devoured to power it.  They were left as undead minions; servants to the great arch-lich who they served in life, servants to him in undeath for all eternity.

"By all that is unholy," muttered Thia as she moved around the chamber, looking through the story of Callindrill's life and his transformation.  "If these pictures are accurate, Callindrill was turned into a lich, an undead spellcaster who wields all the magical power he held in his life, but with no need to sleep, eat or breathe.  He would be immortal."

"Which explains how he's wandering around the kingdom some fifteen hundred years after his death," noted Chi, moving up next to her.

"So I think we can assume that Caerdic truly is Callindrill," concluded Jaeden.  "The question is, what does this mean to us?"

Any discussion around that question was cut short when a scream of inhuman terror pierced the silence of the tomb.  

"By the Light!" exclaimed Jaeden, drawing his blade and turning towards the side passage the scream had come from.  "I recognise that voice.  That's Alfred!"

*

Jaeden rushed forward, heedless of any danger, and plunged into the side passage the scream had emanated from.  His magically-enhanced vision allowed him to see perfectly well in the pitch-black tomb and he followed the short, thin corridor to where it opened up into another chamber.  Though the sights he was greeted with were terrible, it was the smell which most assaulted him.  The stench of ancient death.

This room, like the frescoed main hall, was square, though a little smaller.  The walls here were painted with scenes showing hordes of undead sweeping across the plains, battling and overwhelming an army.  In the middle of the room were four cages, each about ten feet cubed, made from steel bars.  In two of the cages were human remains, skeletons of long-dead captives.  But two cages were occupied by living beings; barely living.

One of the two captives was Alfred.  He was lying on his back, eyes closed and mouth open, in a soundless scream as if his voice could no longer portray the terror his mind was experiencing.  He was wearing the same clothing he had been in when Jaeden had last seen him, on that fateful day up in the mountains when Daniella had been killed.  The clothes were as rags now, ripped and torn, soiled and stained.  But the worst thing was Alfred's face.

All wrinkled and drawn, he looked like he had aged twenty years since Jaeden had last seen him.  His face was thin and his eyes sunken.  His hair had turned grey.

Another terrible scream came from the cage next to Alfred's and Jaeden's eyes flicked there.  An ancient man lay in that cage.  He appeared fey but was so old and withered it was impossible to be certain.  Jaeden had never seen anyone appear that old and yet still be living.  And the fey was ageing further in front of Jaeden's very eyes.  His body was bent upwards, wracked with agony.  He was having his life force sucked out of him by the nightmare which stood over him.

The creature was insubstantial, made of black and grey shadows, but was mostly humanoid in size and shape.  It had tiny pinpricks of red light where its eyes should have been and its mouth was open wide.  Connecting the fey's body and the apparition's mouth was a faint translucent stream of energy, flowing from the fey into the wraith.  It was consuming his soul.

"Alandriel!" screamed Thia as she rushed forward to Jaeden's side.  She recognised her mentor instantly, even though he appeared twice as old as when she had last seen him just weeks earlier.

The scream caught the wraith's attention and it shut its mouth, releasing Alandriel's body which slumped back down to the floor with a whimper.  The undead spirit turned its head around and red eyes focused on the two of them.   A snarl of pure evil escaped its mouth and it moved toward them, passing through the bars of the cage as if they were not there.

"It's a spectre!" Thia warned Jaeden.  "A creature of pure evil and necrotic energy.  It lives on life force and grows stronger by devouring it."

Jaeden stepped up to meet the creature, swallowing hard at the idea of fighting something so terrible.  He swung his finely forged broadsword sideways in a flat arc and it connected directly with the creature's side.  Or at least it would have done, had the creature been physically manifest in this world.  Instead, it passed harmlessly through the creature of smoke and shadows.  The spectre stopped for a moment to consider the blade which had just swept through it and then opened its mouth towards Jaeden.

*

Chi moved unseen and unnoticed up to the four cages in the middle of the room.  He continued to draw the shadows and silence around himself as he moved and not even the spectre marked his passing.  Reaching the bars of the cage containing Alfred he found they were secured by a simple padlock.  He knelt and pulled a small pouch from his pack.  Opening it he selected a specific tool and put it into the lock.  He twisted expertly, applying just the right amount of pressure to the right pin inside the lock and heard a satisfactory click as the padlock flicked open.  It was then he noticed the creature which was stalking him from the shadows.

The ghoul did not need to see or hear Chi.  It relied on its sense of smell more than sight and it could smell a living, breathing and edible creature ahead.  It had honed in on Chi as the others were busy with the spectre.

The ghoul was man-shaped, grey-skinned, with long claw-like nails and wickedly sharp fangs.  It had once been a man, but now was an undead abomination that constantly craved flesh.  Of course, existing here in this tomb, it was invariably starving as there was no fresh supply, but it could not weaken or die from lack of food.  That did not stop it from going insane from hunger, however. 

The ghoul rushed in at Chi, surprisingly quick and agile for something dead.  A long, thin arm snaked out and a taloned claw flashed over Chi's head as he ducked under the attack.  Not knowing what else to do Chi swept his leg out in a circle, aiming for the ghoul's knees.  The strike was true and the ghoul collapsed to the floor.

*

"Light!" Thia shouted as she took a step back behind Jaeden.  "It might be affected by light!" she suggested.

"That's great but I'm a little busy to get my flint and tinderbox out," retorted Jaeden as he lept to the side, avoiding an insubstantial swipe of the spectre's shadowy arm.  He had no idea if his armour would protect him from the wraith, nor of what the touch of it would do to him, but he had no intention of finding out.

"I don't have one," Thia told him from further back.

"Okay.  Any other bright ideas?" he responded, backpedalling.

"Not yet," she told him, wracking her memories for something she could offer.

*

Chi took a half-step towards the prone ghoul and lifted his knee.  With a shout to focus his attack, he drove his foot down into the chest of the undead.  His foot was angled so that the edge struck the ghoul.  In a normal person, that strike would have powered into the solar plexus and put them out of action.  Against the ghoul, it just struck putrid flesh and wobbled.

Hardly affected by the strike, the undead creature grabbed Chi's ankle, its claws surprisingly quick to react.  With one leg trapped by both of the ghoul's claws, Chi could not pull away as the ghoul sunk its wicked fangs into his shin.

The pain was immense, but strangely it quickly faded.  Chi went to pull away from the ghoul but for some reason, he could not.  For a moment he thought the ghoul was exceptionally strong, but then he realised the creature had released his leg and was slowly standing up.  Yet Chi's leg would not move.  And in fact, he realized with horror, he could not feel it at all.

The sense of paralysis moved up his leg into his pelvis, then rapidly spread.  Within seconds he could no longer move either leg and his chest was tightening up.  He collapsed to the floor, unable to balance as the feeling flooded his arms and head.  He was still able to move his face and chest just enough to breathe slowly but otherwise was completely helpless.  Above him, the ghoul rose and a long, grey tongue licked out of its mouth and ran across its sharp fangs in anticipation of its first fresh meal in years.

*

Jaeden faced the spectre alone.  Thia had moved off, shouting something about needing to help Chi.  The shadowy monster seemed to almost be toying with him now.  It had not charged in as he had expected it to.  Jaeden felt weak from when the ghostlike thing had struck him with its unsubstantial arm as he moved to defend Thia's retreat.  The blow should not have bothered him due to his armour, but it had passed right through and the touch was so cold it sapped his strength, instantly.  Jaeden knew he could not harm the spectre and it would only be so long before the spirit landed another life-sapping blow.

Suddenly his mind filled with a picture of Abbot Wotan, the rotund, scholarly priest who ran the seminary where he had trained near Waymeet.  The abbot had taught the knights the theory of many things and had at one stage spoken in length about ghosts, spirits and wraiths.  It had been a boring and wordy lecture, Jaeden recalled and he'd struggled to pay attention.  But there was one thing he vaguely remembered from the lesson.  Maybe it would save him now.

Not taking his eyes off the spectre, Jaeden let his senses out, seeking entry to the Void.  Opening a small rift through the powers he had been taught by Abbot Wotan he opened himself to the Light, becoming a conduit.  He felt the warmth of the radiant energy filling his body, then expanding out through his hand and into his broadsword.  The blade burst into light, bright enough to momentarily blind him.  The spectre screamed in rage and agony as the holy light burst over it.  Jaeden blinked tears from his sensitive eyes and focused on the spirit.  Stepping forward he drove his Light-blessed blade into the body of the spectre.  The evil creature wailed in agony and then simply exploded in a blast of radiant energy.

*

Thia reached Chi just as the ghoul was about to take a big bite out of his neck.  As she ran in she drew one of her fey blades from behind her left shoulder blade.  The sword was short, but it was touched with the power of fey magic, having been forged in the forests of Sylvandale.  She plunged it deep into the ghoul's back.  

The ghoul rocked back in agony as the blade struck, pulling away from Chi's paralysed body.  It leapt fully to its feet from where it had been crouching over the Ghostwalker and turned on Thia.  Faster than she could parry, a wicked talon flashed out, cutting her cheek and leaving three long, bloody claw marks across her face. 

The ghoul watched on, expecting the woman to soon fall for its paralysing touch, but unknown to it, Thia was half-fey and fey blood was immune to the paralysis of these foul creatures.  Thia's half-blood saved her from complete immobility, but she could still feel the effects as the paralysis slowly started to take hold of her face. 

Her sword arm was still fine however and she reached back over her shoulder to pull her second short sword free, moving into a fighting stance, one blade in each hand. 

The ghoul readied itself to attack.  Suddenly from behind Thia, the whole room was lit up in an explosion of radiant light as Jaeden lit up his sword.  The ghoul cringed and instinctively held its taloned claws up to protect its eyes from the light.   

Thia, with her back to the light, was not so badly affected.  She plunged both swords straight into the chest of the ghoul, right up to the hilts.  Though the creature's heart was no longer pumping, its body could not take that amount of punishment and still function.  The hideous creature fell to the floor, twitched once, and lay still. 

*

"I spotted my old master seeming to control the giant," Alfred explained to Jaeden.  "You were busy getting mashed by the colossus, which then went on to attack Daniella," he said.  "I moved up to where I could see Caerdic making weird spellcasting-like gestures and muttering strange words.  For a moment I thought he was going to attack the giant with magic, but it quickly became clear he was directing the huge creature.  I rushed in to try and distract him but one spell and I was held, frozen in place."

"Crazy," answered Jaeden shaking his head. 

"After the battle, Caerdic had me brought here.  I've been here ever since, locked in this cage, occasionally fed and watered, but regularly being a food source for that ghost thing you killed.  It was horrible, Jaeden, it felt like it was sucking my life away.  It was the most painful and soul-destroying thing I have ever experienced."

"Well, you are safe now, "Jaeden told him.  "And we have reunited again, old friend."

Chi sat nearby listening to Jaeden and Alfred catching up.  His paralysis had mostly worn off and he was stretching and flexing stiff muscles, trying to get them fully functioning again.  It was taking time but he had most of his feeling back again.

Thia held the old, withered fey in her arms, struggling to keep the tears in.  She knew he had only moments left, the spectre having all but drained the life out of him.

"I worked it out a few weeks ago," he told her, his croaking voice barely above a whisper.  She bent her face near to his so she could hear.  "I had my suspicions after reading something in my library, but the books in Mount Macarack confirmed it.  I was heading home to Sylvandale, trying to work out what to do with this knowledge when Caerdic appeared before me out of nowhere.  Before I even knew what was happening he had entrapped me in a globe of some sort of anti-magic.  I could not open any sort of rift to the Void to defend myself.  It was trivial then for him to imprison me."

"Well, you are safe now," Thia told him, cradling his head in her arms. 

Alandriel smiled weakly up at her.  "I am finished with this body," he told her.  "The spectre destroyed it.  It will soon be time for me to move on to the next big adventure.  But there is something I need to tell you before I go," he looked up at her.  "Something really important."

"What is it?" Thia asked, not bothering to argue with the dying man about his chances of survival, for she knew there were none.

"Caerdic ... Callindrill ... he told me his plan.  It is a terrible thing and it will bring devastation on the lands we know - all the lands."

Thia helped Alandriel to sit up for a moment, signalling the others to gather around.  They all needed to hear this.

"Callindrill is going to travel to the Dragon's Perch, the old extinct volcano that was Ashardalon's lair.  There he plans to use a terrible ritual to raise the bones of the dead dragon and turn it into a dracolich.  Such a creature would be more dangerous than anything the Kingdom of Albion has ever faced," the ancient fey told them.

"Why?  Why would he want to do that?  Does he plan to use it as a mount?" asked Thia.

"Not for himself," Alandriel answered.  "He intends the dracolich to serve as a personal steed to King Eldred, the first king of the line of Albion."

"Eldred has been dead over fifteen hundred years," stated Jaeden, utterly confused.

"Indeed," whispered the dying man, "But Callindrill recently reanimated him and brought him back as a powerful undead warrior.  The king lives again and soon will have a mighty mount to ride upon.  And Queen Lynna was also here.  She too is some sort of undead sorceress.

"Callindrill's ultimate goal is to bring the Kingdom of Albion to its knees and to put an undead king and queen on the throne,"  Alandriel said, gripping Thia's sleeve with the last of his strength. 

"You have to stop him, Thia."  he looked around at the group.  "All of you have to stop him."  With that, he slumped back and the light of life finally left his eyes.