The Conquest of Kiynan

Kayla strode through the black stone outer courtyard of Castle Malice. All around her was constant commotion. She saw soldiers wearing the violet and green of the Fled, the jet black of House Spite, the amber of House Lust, the white of House Pride, as well as the occasional grey of House Despair and red of House Fury. Kayla walked by a group of soldiers drinking and singing merrily. She continued past a soldier in amber arguing with a soldier in white. Ahead she noticed a pair of male Fled soldiers mocking a short woman dressed in red leather. The woman turned around, and Kayla saw that her eyes were a smouldering crimson. The small woman gave one of the soldiers an uppercut that knocked him clear across the courtyard into a group of soldiers dressed in black. The other Fled soldier hastily scurried away, and the woman Warlock stomped off while the black soldiers attempted to revive the fallen man.

Kayla headed toward the inner courtyard, coming to the deep, wide slimy moat at the foot the inner wall. She found the nearest bridge, crafted of ice that was cold to the touch, but that did not chill the air around it nor melt even in the greatest heat. She crossed the bridge, looking down at the loathsome moat, distorted through the semi-translucent ice. Kayla passed under the black iron portcullis, somewhat rusted yet sturdy, and entered the inner courtyard. She gazed at the petrified roots and vines that choked the high black stone walls, and shuddered.

“You appear to be one who does not appreciate the subtle beauty of my home,” came an unexpected voice.

Kayla turned to find a short woman wearing a black tunic, hose and a long flowing cape. Her eyes were black.

“My name is Chyryl the Black,” added the woman with a thin smile but genuine warmth.

“My name is Kayla Freeland,” replied Kayla politely.

“I know who you are. Your name has spread quickly among the magicians. Your people have neglected training and education for centuries, and yet here you are, as great a potential candidate as any to be found on Ornland, better than most in fact. Furthermore, some say you may be the key to rediscovering the lost magic of House Calm. Everyone is talking about you.”

“Well, thank you,” said Kayla smiling at the flattery. “Do you know Abron the Grey?” she added after a moment.

“You mean Master Abron the Grey. The remaining Necromancers have gathered and chosen him to replace their fallen leader. The Warlocks have not yet decided who will replace theirs. It seems the mighty Vanga was cast off the iron ramparts of the Blood Fort by Daimin’s army,” answered Chyryl, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

Kayla’s smile vanished at the mention of the encroaching evil.

“Has there been any word from House Hope?”

Chyryl frowned coldly.

“No. Nothing. What’s more, the Necromancers have been unable to learn anything of Mistress Lucinda’s movements. Those foolish Druids are probably too caught up in pruning their hideous plants to bother trying to save our world.”

Just at that moment, a shrill trumpet sounded three sharp blasts. Chyryl’s head snapped up and she headed off quickly toward the black keep, calling behind her.

“Follow me Kayla, quickly.”

Kayla immediately ran after her, heading through the heavy doors of the keep. Inside was pandemonium as magicians and soldiers raced out to join the mass of defenders in the outer courtyard, or to defend the outer walls. Chyryl and Kayla followed a handful of archers darting up the stairs toward the keep’s highest tower. They ran into the chamber at the very top of the tower, and looked out through the slit windows and murder holes.

Kayla took in the commanding view of Castle Malice. The courtyard was filled with spearmen, swordsmen, Wizards and Warlocks, filing into ranks. The soldiers were forming a line of shields, each person covering his left side and the right side of the warrior beside him with their shield, so that they presented an unbroken wall of steel to the gate. Kayla noticed Thalamir near the front of the line, shouting encouragement to the men and women around him. The outer wall was lined with more swordsmen, archers, Sorcerers and Enchanters. Beyond the outer wall, Kayla first noted a huge swirling flock of birds, circling in large numbers. Below them she saw a dark, seething mass approaching up the steep slopes below Castle Malice.

The enemy approached steadily. Kayla realized the birds were vultures, drawn to the stench of the rotting demons. Even at this distance, a faint breeze brought the unmistakable smell of decomposing flesh to Kayla’s nose. The vultures followed the marching corpses, greedily anticipating their upcoming feast. Watching the hideous birds and the army they surveyed, it seemed to Kayla that Death itself had come for war. As the demons drew nearer, Kayla saw the creatures out of her nightmares, skivers, running ahead of the other terrors. As they approached, the archers on the wall began to loose their arrows, which crashed down upon the demons like a tidal wave. The Sorcerers and Sorceresses of House Spite lobbed shards of ice, while the magicians of House Lust tossed fiery brands and gouts of flame at the horde. The missiles destroyed a number of the foul creatures, but their falling brethren did not slow the skivers as they furiously pounded toward the black stone walls of Castle Malice.

The skivers quickly reached the foot of the walls and leapt onto them, their sharp claws digging into the rock as they scrambled up the sheer surface. Kayla was surprised to see shadows near the group of Sorcerors suddenly snake out and envelop them, rendering them impossible to see. At the other end of the wall, the tower appeared to suddenly extend itself, masking the presence of the Enchanters. Within moments, the defenders upon the wall were embattled. Kayla saw soldiers eviscerated and flung from the ramparts, others were torn limb from limb, but many skivers were also cast off the wall and the humans managed to hold their own and continued to shoot. Skivers dove into the invisible mass of Sorcerors and suddenly the magicians were visible again, desperately duelling with the creatures. The illusory wall also failed to hide the Enchanters from the loathsome demons.

“The Necromancers warned us that the demons’ senses would not likely be fooled by our magic,” griped Chyryl, who was observing the Sorcerors.

More of the demonic horde approached the castle now, legions of skeletal warriors crowded around the front gate and the foot of the wall. A thick cloud of flies and other insects buzzed about them.

Suddenly, Kayla saw several large grey objects hurtling down from the sky. She realized they were enormous boulders as they crashed down upon the outer wall and rolled into the courtyard. Dozens of defenders shrieked as they tried to dive out from underneath the deadly projectiles. Another flight of boulders was flung into the sky, and Kayla could just make out the creatures hurling them. They were squat and bulky, tall as a man and three times as wide, with four massive arms as long as their bodies. Their skin was a mottled black, covered with patches of moss and fungal growth. They had no faces or heads, but they were not clumsy and moved as though nothing escaped their notice.

“Gols,” muttered Chyryl with disgust.

Dozens of imps were gathered around each one of them, hauling boulders to them and shouting directions. Kayla watched as one of the massive creatures picked up a boulder with its lower set of arms and passed it to the upper pair. It leaned backwards, supporting itself on its free hands and then threw its entire body forward, springing off its feet and hands at once, its upper arms launching the boulder impossibly high. Kayla nearly closed her eyes as the rock smote down upon a small knot of defenders on the outer wall, leaving only a jagged gap of broken stone where the soldiers had once stood.

The barrage of boulders slowed, and the teeming ranks of skeletons parted to make way for several massive lumbering creatures. Groups of imps rode on the tall, nearly flat, headless demons. The smaller demons hauled on bony projections, causing their mounts to unfold themselves into tall ramps. The tall demons leaned against the outer wall, grasping the top with huge, heavy claws, while the skeletons ran up along their backs with wicked anticipation.

While the defenders of the outer walls struggled valiantly to withstand the onslaught, Kayla noticed lieutenants shouting orders in the courtyard. They seemed to be preparing their troops to charge through the north gate to get at the demons. The front row of skeletons and imps were shoved away just then, as a new menace stepped up to the gate. Kayla saw it clearly.

It walked on four legs, as thick as tree trunks. Its body was long, and mostly covered with thick shaggy fur. Their coats hung down to the ground and seemed moist and covered with mildew. It did not appear to have any neck, instead its massive head stuck straight forward from its body. It had four small red eyes, arranged in pairs on each side of a prominent bony ridge in the middle of its face. Its jaws were huge and hung open like a great hungry cat. Most noticeable of all were several heavy ram’s horns, curled and cruel looking. Upon the creature’s back rode a lone imp brandishing a long whip. The great beast let out a low rumbling cry and came charging at the gate.

Its head smashed into the thick outer door and the instant it collided with it, the wood shattered into countless splinters. Dozens of arrows flew through the gate and embedded themselves in the creature’s thick hide, but it shrugged them off. Flaming arrows came down on the monster from the wall above, but the flames sputtered and were extinguished as soon as they touched the damp fur. The creature took several long strides backward, then thundered forward again, bursting through the black iron grating. More arrows pelted the creature as it stormed into the courtyard, ploughing into the shield wall. The hordes of skeletons and imps that had been waiting by the ruined gate streamed in past the breach. The imps shrieked and chattered, their shrill voices filling the air as they jabbed at the human shield line with long spears. The skeletal warriors hacked and slashed with rusted swords, axes, scythes, pitchforks and other bladed weapons.

Suddenly, a guttural howl, as of hundreds of fell voices screaming in unison, drowned out the sounds of battle. The embattled warriors looked up in despair as enormous winged demons descended on them. Twice the height of a man, the four-armed monsters were masses of raw red muscle, entirely fleshless. Their heads were horse skulls, naked bone with thick protrusions around their sunken red eyes, and long black horns growing from their snouts. Broad leathery wings sprouted from their backs, haphazardly covered with black scales. Their fetid mouths were lined with long, sharp canines. The wall’s defenders struggled to hold their ground, beset on all sides by demons.

Horrified tears began to cloud Kayla’s vision as she looked back to the courtyard. The gols were now charging in, forcing their way through the choking mass of skeletons. Some carried heavy chains that they swung with enough force to cleave a mailed man in two. Others carried no weapons, but swung their fists like heavy war hammers, crushing skulls with every blow. The shield line was still holding, strengthened by the Wizards’ invisible barriers. A dozen Fled footmen had gotten behind the gigantic demon ram, and were hacking at its hind legs. The lumbering creature could only turn slowly, and the imp atop it had been shot, leaving its flank defenceless. Heaps of vanquished fiends lay piled before the humans, but the swarm continued to press against the defenders without respite. Kayla’s heart missed a beat as she saw Thalamir move into the place of a fallen man in the front row, spearing a murderous imp in the face. She watched as a tight knot of Warlocks broke away from the main line and isolated a gol by herding it against the outer wall. Its heavy chain deflected off their shields, and they moved in against it steadily. As the gol backed into the wall, the red leather clad warriors pounced as with one mind. Their war cries trembled with unbridled fury as their spears transpierced the massive beast, skewering it to the wall where it twitched spasmodically. The human shield line moved forward slowly, shoving the demons back toward the gate.

On the outer wall, the defenders were struggling to retreat toward the towers in order to join their comrades on the ground.

“They can’t possibly stop that many thranes,” Chyryl breathed in despair.

Kayla watched in anguish as a thrane bit the head off a swordsman in green and violet. Beside her, Chyryl thrusted her hands out the window, glistening shards of ice projecting from her hands toward the demons in the outer courtyard. Kayla tried to focus on feeling calm, tried to find inner balance in order to help the soldiers. Images of skivers gnashing their teeth at her face flashed in her thoughts. She struggled to clear her mind, to empty it of all thoughts, but the harder she tried, the more quickly the images appeared. So many magicians thought so highly of her powers, of her potential, but she couldn’t get her feelings under control. Rage, despair and fear filled her by turns as she struggled. Finally, she opened her eyes, feeling helpless as she witnessed more defenders die.

Tides of imps and rotting skeletons flooded unopposed onto the outer wall, as the defenders desperately tried to escape. A winged demon spread its wings and shrieked as it leapt from the wall and dove over the humans’ shields. The monstrous creature thrashed around itself with its four arms, sending soldiers careening through the air to land in broken heaps. The shield wall broke under the fiend’s furious onslaught, and skeletal warriors pressed into the gap.

Just then, a chorus of trumpets sounded in the distance. At first, Kayla thought she had imagined the sound, but the fanfare was repeated more loudly. With sudden excitement, Kayla glanced around trying to find the source of the music. Chyryl shouted and pointed beyond the demon army. Hundreds of light cavalrymen draped in green cloth charged speedily into the horde’s flank. Formed into a wedge, the horsemen cut through the mass of demons like a knife through butter, shattering skeletons and impaling imps along the way. The demon charge into the castle stopped uncertainly, and the mass of creatures still outside the walls churned like a kicked anthill. The green soldiers pressed on without hesitation, driving hard to the castle walls, and within moments they had almost reached the gate, their wedge unbroken. Long vigorous weeds suddenly sprouted up from the earth, coiling and tightening around the tall ramp demons’ feet and snaking up their backs. One by one the misshapen creatures toppled over and collapsed. The weeds lashed them to the ground and tightened, crushing them into the dirt. Upon the outer wall, the demons began lobbing corpses and whatever they could lift onto the cavalry.

In the courtyard, the human soldiers pressed into the gap created by the thrane, closing the breach in their line. The monster itself leapt back into the air trying to reach the outer wall, but it collided with an unseen barrier and fell back to the stones below it. The shield line pressed forward faster now, driving the invaders back out the gates or cornering them against the inside walls. Outside the walls, the cavalrymen wheeled and charged again into the confused heap of creatures.

In the courtyard, the winged demon rose to its feet shrieking its rage. A wide area quickly cleared around the beast, as the humans fled its impending wrath. A solitary figure strode into the clearing, out from the ranks of soldiers. Helmet-less, covered in boiled red leather and wielding a double bladed short sword with his right hand, the Warlock dropped his shield and drew a sabre with his left hand. The demon cut off its shrieking as it considered the lone warrior. Kayla could see the Warlock’s shoulders heaving as he drew in huge breaths, his eyes blazing crimson, illuminating his face. With a throaty berserker scream, the Warlock leapt at the thrane, his arms blurring into a windmill motion. The demon shrieked in return and lashed out with its four heavy fists. Dwarfed by the towering monster, the Warlock darted between the demon’s fiercesome blows, slashing and stabbing in a frenzied bloodlust. Unable to move its bulk quickly enough to avoid the avalanche of strikes, the creature parried the Warlock’s blades with its hands, rapidly losing fingers as a result. The Warlock pushed the thrane backward, hacking off one of its hands with a sabre cut and skewering its leg with a short sword jab. Despite its injuries, the demon fought on, seemingly unaffected. It snapped its teeth at the red man, having its lower jaw smashed off in the process. With a final howl, the Warlock leapt five feet straight up and swept off the beast’s head with a haymaker swing of his sabre. The magician planted a sidekick on the monster’s abdomen on his way down, sending it flying and crashing onto the stone paved courtyard.

The surviving defenders of the outer wall charged out of the towers back onto the wall, reinforced by spearmen from the courtyard. Skivers, skeletons and imps leapt from the wall or were left crushed in the defenders’ wake.

Chyryl and Kayla cheered together as they saw the scattered demons flee in every direction away from the castle. The cavalrymen broke into a number of small groups and began to chase down the retreating attackers. The remaining winged demons took flight as the remaining imps, skivers and skeletons were cleared off the wall and pushed out of the courtyard. Too slow to escape, the gols fought on, claiming too many lives before finally being destroyed. Within minutes, the last visible demons were vanquished.

A number of green cavalrymen trotted through the broken gate into the outer courtyard, dismounting immediately. Beneath their green capes, their bodies were covered with woven barbed woody vines that shifted to accommodate the Druids’ movements. The green magicians went quickly to the injured soldiers. Kayla watched in awe as they speedily knitted gaping wounds and reattached severed limbs. She looked around the courtyard, trying to find Thalamir, but she could not see him anywhere. Gripped by concern, she turned away from the window and ran toward the stairs.

She sprinted through the inner courtyard and across the ice bridge to the outer courtyard. She headed to where she had last seen him, glancing frantically in every direction as she went. At last, she saw a familiar head of tousled brown hair. She shouted his name as she bounded toward him. Thalamir turned around, his face bleeding from a long gash stretching from eyebrow to jaw. Kayla caught her breath as she saw him, and felt herself go pale. He smiled his usual, tight-lipped smile to reassure her just as a Druid came over to him. The magician placed his hand on Thalamir’s wound and closed his eyes. Kayla held her breath, desperate not to break the healer’s concentration. A moment passed, then the Druid walked off to find another injury to heal. Thalamir’s face remained coated with drying blood, but only a pale thin scar gave testimony of where the vicious gash had been. Kayla flung her arms around her childhood friend, sighing her relief audibly. Thalamir embraced her in return, without saying a word. The two of them drifted around the courtyard, surveying the toll the battle had taken on the gathered armies. Everywhere she looked, Kayla could see blood and bodies, some whole, some in pieces. She did what she could to help, trying to find injured soldiers too weak to call for help, and summoning Druids to save them. As she hurried about, she noticed many magicians rushing into the Black Keep.

“Kayla,” came Chyryl’s voice some time later, “follow me quickly please. The Houses will be holding a council and I have a feeling they will want you to be there.”

Thalamir walked to Kayla’s side and they followed in Chyryl’s footsteps. They crossed into the inner courtyard, and back into the Black Keep.

Kayla looked around the huge space as she walked into the audience chamber. She recognized only a few of the many faces, but all were clearly magicians. The heads of all the Houses had gathered, as well as their advisors and favourites, but she did not see Midia Wiseman.

“Let us begin immediately,” spoke Abron with more confidence than Kayla had suspected he possessed.

“Where is our Duchess of the Fled?” asked an attractive young woman dressed in a long green toga, with a leafy tiara braided into her hair.

“It would appear she has chosen to arrive late to our meeting; something I should think House Hope would have no difficulty appreciating,” quipped Master Travis the White.

The woman in green’s face flushed as she turned to retort at the old Wizard.

“Time is against us,” spoke Abron loudly, preventing any further exchange, “and we must reach a decision quickly,” he paused. “We have all fought well today, and have earned a great victory, but the danger is every bit as imminent as it was before the battle. We have no more reinforcements to call upon, but there is no end to the demon spirits that Daimin and his followers can summon. It is only a matter of time, very little time at that, until Daimin’s forces return. And when they do return, it will be more cautiously and in greater numbers.”

“It is obvious then, that we must press our advantage now. We must pursue the demon scourge, and reclaim the Blood Fort,” spoke a Warlock. Kayla recognized the warrior who had single-handedly slain the winged demon in the courtyard.

“The only thing that is obvious is the legendary impatience and rashness of House Fury,” spoke up a Sorceress.

Kayla had not seen her before, but she was evidently of high standing in House Spite, judging by the way the other Sorcerers and Sorceresses stood behind her. She wore black hose, a velvety black tunic and a long flowing black cape, with a high collar that framed her face starkly. Her skin was a pale white, sharply contrasting her jet-black hair tied into an elaborate curl on her head, and her black glowing eyes. Her lips were painted black, and they glistened with an icy sheen. Kayla admired her frigid beauty as the Warlock replied angrily.

“How eager is House Spite to criticize others in order to hide their own cowardice,” retorted the demon slayer through clenched teeth.

“Sylenna, Marax, please. Although there will be a time to reclaim the Blood Fort, we do not have that power now. As I said, Daimin’s strength grows quickly. We must prevent his army from growing before trying to destroy what servants he has already.”

“How can we stop Daimin from performing his magic?” asked Mistress Lisannis the Amber, breaking the sudden silence.

“The rate at which the demon horde is growing implies that large numbers of demon spirits are being summoned very rapidly. As all Necromancers know, the barrier between the spirit world and our own is weak in the land of Lethe. Only there can so many demon spirits be summoned so quickly. We have reason to believe that Daimin is leading his horde directly, which is why the demons are as organized as they are. We also know that when Daimin escaped Cadvin’s attack, three followers escaped with him into the spirit world. We suspect Daimin has left these followers to breed his army while he leads the attack. We must journey to Lethe and defeat his servants to stop his army’s growth.

In order to move swiftly, we will need the group that makes the journey to be small. The demon warriors are being sent so rapidly to reinforce their master, only very few must defend the other Conjurers. Most of our forces should remain here to delay Daimin as long as they are able. We cannot spare more than a small group of warriors anyway, as Daimin is still too powerful to ignore even for a moment. Left unchecked, his forces will cover the world in a matter of weeks. We can use a ship to move quietly behind Daimin’s advance by sailing across Gloom Bay.”

“You’re forgetting something, Necromancer. As we all heard the story of how Cadvin and his followers led the Houses to defeat Daimin, surely the difference between that historical event and our current situation is obvious. How will the lack of Augurs affect this plan to destroy Daimin’s disciples?” asked Lisannis.

Abron hesitated, and he looked back at the other Necromancers before answering.

“The magic of House Scorn is powerful. Their magicians are able to conjure demon spirits to possess any seeking to oppose them, very quickly and at great distances,” everyone in the room stirred uncomfortably. “Cadvin and his followers found that they could invade the minds of the Conjurers to prevent them from calling demons to possess their forces. That was critical of course, considering how many skilled followers Daimin had at that time. Cadvin had also realized that cooling the emotions of the Conjurers and shielding their minds from their physical deaths would prevent them from becoming beast-spirits themselves and even perhaps from becoming spirits at all. We are not certain how successful Cadvin’s followers were at performing these tasks, although Cadvin himself was apparently able to invade several minds at once and perfectly extinguish all emotion. Nonetheless, we are certain that none of the Conjurers’ spirits survived to this day except for Daimin himself and three of his followers.

The situation this time is quite different in that there are only three Conjurers to deal with. It should be possible to surprise them and destroy their physical bodies before they can summon beast-spirits to possess any members of our force.”

“Should be possible,” sneered Sylenna, just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“But what’s to stop Daimin from simply pulling them back out of the spirit world into new bodies?” asked Marax, deliberately ignoring Sylenna.

“Well,” Abron began with a sigh, “we cannot be certain, but we do not think Daimin can locate a specific beast-spirit, such as one of his followers, from outside Lethe. If he returns to Lethe, that would give us the chance to regroup and corner him. Of course,” he drew a deep breath, then looked at Kayla as he finished, “the surest way to prevent him from bringing back his disciples would be to employ Cadvin’s tactic of soothing their spirits before destroying their physical forms, or at least shielding their spirits from the experience of physical trauma.”

All eyes turned toward Kayla. She felt her heart stop, as she looked around at all the faces staring at her. What were they asking of her? What did they expect her to do?

Just then, Midia Wiseman strode into the room. She stopped at the chamber’s entrance and addressed the hall.

“A rider has just arrived from the Hall of Ecstasy. He carried a message for me, brought across the Silent Sea in great haste from Haven. My duchy has been invaded by a barbarian horde from Varice. They defeated the Gaurvians, and now they’ve attacked the county of Freshwater,” the duchess turned a pitying gaze at Kayla and softened her tone, “Kayla, I’m sorry… Your father…”

“He’s dead,” Kayla said softly, and she knew it was true.

She reached out for his presence, the way she did whenever she needed comforting, but this time she felt nothing. She looked into the duchess’ eyes, which stared at her with a mixture of sorrow and surprise.

How could she be so calm? She could hear the duchess thinking. Kayla realized then that she was completely calm, in control of her feelings; she was using magic! Her excitement clouded her mind and the duchess’ mind fell silent. Then it struck her, how could she let herself feel excitement? Her father was dead. Gone. She felt her brain go numb, as her entire being was inundated with grief. Her eyes swelled with tears, her knees felt weak and buckled. She sat down hard on the ground, her small body wracked by sobs. Thalamir fell to his knees beside her and wrapped her in his arms. She turned and buried her face in his shoulder as she cried. Her mind conjured up images of her father. She pictured him in his blue robe that he liked to wear in the morning. She remembered the feeling of being held in his arms. She could smell him, that scent that was somehow unique to him. She remembered the roughness of his beard on her cheek as she hugged him. But he was gone. Thalamir squeezed her tighter, not saying a word. No one spoke. The girl’s weeping echoed throughout the room; deafening not because of its volume, but because of the anguish it carried.

Finally, Wiseman spoke again, her voice cracking with restrained sorrow. “I am returning to Haven in the morning, while I still have a duchy to defend.”

With a final sideways glance at Kayla, she turned and strode stiffly from the room.

“And so the Fled flee again,” said Travis softly.

“I will travel to Lethe,” said Abron.

“I will accompany you,” proclaimed Lucia, rising from her chair.

“We can not let the Greys claim all the glory,” announced Marax, also rising, “and you’ll need someone to protect you.”

“And someone to protect you from him,” said Travis, nodding to Marax as he rose.

“I believe we should have a representative of each House,” added Lucia.

“I name Chyryl the Black for House Spite,” said Sylenna.

Chyryl nodded.

“I name Dessa the Amber,” spoke Lisannis.

Dessa smirked in obvious self-satisfaction.

“I will go as well,” said Taul without rising, drawing a number of stares.

“Omil the Green will represent House Hope,” decided Lucinda.

“And we will need your help, Lady Kayla,” said Abron, his tone sympathetic, almost pleading.

Kayla heard the words as if from a great distance away. She looked up at the Necromancer, blinking away tears.

“But…” sniffed Kayla, “I don’t know what to do.”

“There are no others that know either. I will teach you as best I can. We will never defeat Daimin without your help,” replied Abron with a mild note of chagrin.

Kayla felt her head spinning, and she couldn’t bring herself to think. She turned her puffy red eyes toward Thalamir for help.

“I will come with you,” said Thalamir simply.

Kayla swallowed hard, and nodded to him. Then, she turned back to Abron with confidence she did not feel, “I will go.”

“Good, we will leave at first light tomorrow.”