The Guardians' Blade

The morning light flooded the landscape but it was a soft grey rather than bright gold. Clouds were growing thick in the north and beginning to spread south. It looked like the seasonal rains were coming, though it was not yet autumn. “Is it me or is the weather changing and turning colder? We are still in the months of early summer, and yet it is growing cloudy and there is a chill in the air.” Kain frowned as he tugged on the girth of his horse.

Dovelin smiled as she smoothed a hand over her horse’s nose. “Something is stirring, but we do not need to worry about that yet, Let us focus on the problem at hand, or else we will be splitting hairs over everything that seems wrong or odd to us.” she said. She was thankful for Boar’s assistance in getting back into the saddle. Once ready she took up the reins in her hands and looked around at the others.

Kain frowned but decided not to argue. Easing himself up onto his saddle he watched everyone else mount up, then he nodded signaling to Soryn that they were ready. The Guardian took the lead, following a dirt track that wound along the outer edge of Kilimanjari Forest until they reached the southern edge of the Lake of Shimmering. Soryn turned his horse west and rode at a canter along the sandy shore, towards the mouth of the river Illendrial. He then turned his horse south once more and rode a couple of miles until he reached a large stone bridge, and led the company of travelers over it. Drawing rein on the other side he turned in his saddle and smiled. “Welcome to Silvaria.” He then looked specifically at Millianyia. “I believe you will now take over the lead, my dear, as you know where the royal city is better than I.”

Millianyia smiled and nudged her horse forward until she was next to Soryn. “Indeed, Guardian.” She looked over her shoulder at the others calling out, “This way.” She set off, leading them further west, following what looked like a wide dirt road. The land near the river seemed bare of trees, but it was not long before they drew close to a large ancient forest that looked much like Kilimanjari. However there was a notable difference. Millianyia halted at one particular tree, and reached to smooth her hand over the trunk and a particular rune. The path before them shimmered slightly before they rode on again, and they quickly came upon white walls and large iron gates. Drawing her horse to a halt she called out to the guards, “Open! It is I, Millanyia, the Queen’s Assassin!”

The great iron gates groaned as they swung open and Millianyia led the party within. Serraria’s eyes were wide as she noted how different this place was compared to Kilimanjari. These Krysalith lived in a massive white city on the floor of the forest, and she couldn’t quite make out what the houses were made out of. She wasn’t sure if it was white wood, stone or some other material. She looked over at Storm riding beside her and asked softly, “Are the Krysalith of this place so different to their cousins of the woods?”

Storm smiled “Yes, the Krysalith of Silvaria have stepped away from the norm. They live in cities on the ground, rather than up in the canopy of the forests. They have a bit more to do with the other races than my kin. However the Silvarians are well known for their arrogance compared to the kindness those of Killimanjarin are supposed to show to outsiders.” Storm didn’t sound to convincing with those final words, as she had witnessed firsthand how closed the Wood Krysalith had recently become.

“Have you been to a Silvarian city before?” Serraria asked.

Storm shook her head. “No, my travels usually keep me in the north; I don’t have a lot to do with my people or these.” She nodded towards Millianyia. “She has a lot more to do with them.”

“What does Queen’s Assassin mean?” Serraria whispered.

Storm grinned. “I’m still trying to work that out myself. I am guessing that it is a title that was bestowed upon her at one time.” She shrugged a shoulder. “You will have to ask Milli to explain it one day.” The girl nodded, filing that question away in her mind to be asked at a later date. Various elaborately dressed Krysalith stepped out of their doors or onto balconies to watch the travelers pass beneath their arrogant scrutiny. The streets were all smooth and wide, allowing for them to ride two abreast with ease.

Millianyia lead them up a slight slope towards what looked to be the Palace tucked away beneath another set of walls, almost like the Omarian Royal City, though there was no sign of unequal proportions of wealth here. The second iron gates opened and the group rode into a massive courtyard, where they were met by the Captain of the guard. “Koyote!” Millianyia smiled at the tall warrior who came down the steps to greet her. “I must see the king immediately.” She motioned behind her at the travelers as they dismounted. “I bring guests, important guests on a mission.”

“What kind of mission?” he asked skeptically as he studied Kain, Tarn and Ryu.

“A mission to save the realms,” Millianyia gave him a slight shove. “Stop staring – it’s rude! Do your duty.”

The Captain shot her a glare, then cleared his throat and inclined his head to the mixed bunch Millianyia had led into the royal city. “Follow me.” He abruptly turned on a heel to lead them up fine marble white stairs, past a set of pillars and down a long hallway. The high arched open windows had curtains of many colors softly blowing in a gentle light breeze. Their footsteps echoed on the marble white floor that reflected their forms back to them with almost mirror-like perfection. The Captain did not speak; he simply led the way into the palace, straight to a set of iron doors that were decorated with two trees and the moon and stars. Halting before a pair of guards he spoke sharply. “Open the doors, we have guests who wish to speak to the king.” The guards seemed to pale slightly, blinking at Koyote’s demand, but after a moment moved to do as ordered, heaving the doors open on protesting loud hinges. The massive throne room was revealed to the travelers.

The floor once again was smooth as marble, but this time in blocks of black and white. The walls were just as smooth, with pillars at various points along the walls. In front of every pillar stood a tall guard in full dress array from the helm with a large blue plume, down to the chain mail, leather, and blue matching cloak. These were the king’s personal guards. In the center of the room was a throne. It was raised three feet above the floor and had a staircase leading up to it, but it was empty. It was at the back of the room, with a long red carpet from the open doors leading up to the first step. On either side Krysalith stood, wearing rich robes of silk, satin or other fine fabrics, with their hair decorated with jewels or other hair accessories. They were arguing at the moment and the king stood nearby listening. Along one wall was a hearth that ran from one end of the room to the other, and which was tended to constantly by servants, to keep it burning at all times. The servants were conspicuous with their plain tunics and pants and a thick iron collar worn around their necks. These servants had their hair shorn off, which made it difficult to tell male from female. There was a long table where servants were laying out the latest meal, a huge feast for the courtiers to eat when they felt hungry.

Serraria took this all in, and frowned. It was almost like the Omarians; perhaps a little different. She couldn’t yet make up her mind. She watched as Captain Koyote strode up to the king’s side and quietly announced the arrival of the visitors. The king turned slightly to regard them and Serraria drew in her breath. He was tall, but then the Krysalith were a tall people. His features were sharp and keen, with eyes the color of lavender. His long dark brown hair had several braids with glimmering beads at the ends. His clothing was blue and gold: a tunic with swirling patterns on it, plain blue pants with a leather pair of boots buckled around his calves. Holding them in place was a belt at his waist with a jeweled dagger, and a blue and gold cloak draped around his slender shoulders. He seemed to look at them with indifference before returning his gaze to the flames in the hearth. Serraria blinked as Captain Kyote approached and spoke to Millianyia. “He will see you when he is ready.” Then he strode past, slipping out of the throne room, as if they were none of his concern. She slipped over to Millianyia’s side and tugged on her sleeve. “This is the king of Silvaria?” she asked after a moment, pointing at the being by the hearth.

Millianyia nodded while her eyes ran over the courtiers who were still engaged in some sort of a debate. “Yes, child,” She rested a hand on Serraria’s shoulder. “Wait here,” she said, making her way to the king’s side. “Sire,” she said and placed a hand to her chest, giving him a slight bow. “Sire, I have brought to you Guardians who need to speak to you. They are on an urgent mission.”

The king turned slightly to regard the woman. “I’m a little busy at the moment.” His tone was sharp and clipped before he looked back at the flames. “The houses are bickering amongst themselves once more, and my beloved is yet to be given the appropriate ceremonial burial she deserves.” His features contorted in agony of the soul as he clenched a fist and slammed it to his chest. “They do not think she deserves such a thing, because she is of the dark kin.” He looked sharply then at Millianyia. “If that is the case, what is to become of my daughter?”

“Your daughter has the Queen’s eyes,” was Milli’s soft response as she tried to reassure the king. “And she has been blessed with pale skin. They will not always remember the mixing of blood in her veins. It is for the good of Silvaria.” She smiled at him. “For the dark and pale Krysalith are the same race, only the color of skin is different.”

There was a snort at these words, and a lofty voice addressed them from behind. “Such fine words from the Queen’s Assassin who failed to save the queen.”

Millianyia turned to regard the noble who was speaking. “I cannot work miracles, Lord StormHallow.” She tilted her head slightly as she watched him. “Be careful what you say or someone might think you had a hand in her murder.”

The Krysalith lord blinked and stared at her, then snapped, “That is preposterous.” He pointed a finger at her. “You are simply looking for a scapegoat. No one knows who killed her.”

“Oh, I know of plenty with a motive,” snapped Millianyia. “All within this room who have spoken many a time against the Dark Krysalith are suspect.”

The Lord scowled, then glanced towards the newly arrived party and spluttered, “You dare to bring one in with you?” he pointed towards where Rakkath stood next to Grong. “You are a traitor!” he shrieked loudly.

“No one is a traitor,” snapped King Meaglin. Stepping forward he glared at the lord. “Be careful who you point the finger at. I just may break it off, with the mood I am in.”

Lord Stormhallow scowled and spun on his heel. “You have just lost the vote and confidence of the Stormhallow clan.” And he stormed off towards the Feasting Table.

The king looked over at Millianyia and sighed quietly. “See what I must contend with.”

“Not everyone can accept change,” Milli smiled and looked towards the waiting party. “But I need to know if you will see them. If not today, can I put them up as guests until you are in a mood to at least speak to them?”

“Very well, put them in the guest hall.” The king turned away, folding arms over his chest, showing he was in no mood to see them at that moment.

Millianyia inclined her head and returned to where the others waited, a frown marring her beautiful features. Serraria watched Millianyia and said quietly, “There is much anger, sadness and reproach in this room.” She looked towards the king. “He is very sad, did he lose something?”

“He lost his Queen recently,” Millianyia replied. She rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It is part of the cycle of life.”

Serraria nodded, and frowned as she watched three Lords approach the king. They flung cruel words at him, but the king did not turn around to respond, simply continued to stare into the flames of the large hearth. Serraria decided to do something. She moved away from the group and approached the lords with a stern look upon her young features.

“Serraria!” Millianyia called after her sharply. “Where are you going?”

Serraria turned and smiled, as she saw worry etched upon the features of all of her friends. “To silence the arguing; don’t worry, everything will be fine soon.” She had to smile again at the confused looks on their faces. Only Millianyia seemed to understand. Serraria gave a slight nod of her head, then she turned around to face the Lords gathered within the throne room and closed her eyes. Focusing out their angry voices and honing in on what she felt within, she searched for a sense of peace that might bring calm to all of those within the throne room. She closed her eyes, drew breath and began to sing in a beautiful voice that floated through the room. The arguing lords fell silent, and turned to stare at the girl child caught up in the rapture of a song.

“In the stars I searched for your face

But I did not find you.

In the night I reached out for you

But you were not there.

Tears were wept for the lost;

My heart broke apart in pieces

Sorrow was my companion

In my days of grief and misery

Oh bright little star

Will you sing for me?

Oh, bright little star

Will you shine?

I have missed you

In the winter months

And now summer is come.

Oh, bright little star

Be mine.”

It was a very simple little song. Serraria fell silent finally and looked at the lords who were staring at her, some dabbing at their eyes with large colorful handkerchiefs. A single sound of clapping echoed throughout the throne room. She turned her head to fix the king with sapphire eyes, and found him to be smiling. “Bravo, little one,” he stated as he slowly approached the group. He looked to Millianyia. “You did not tell me you had a little friend who has a voice like yours.” He grinned ruefully at her before looking back at Serraria. “Come, I will hear your case now.” He spun on his heel and proceeded to lead the group to the back of the throne room. The Lords made no attempt to interfere with them, as they seemed to be bewitched by the song.

Serraria grinned, feeling as if she had done something right, and eagerly followed the king. They found themselves stepping through an archway that led into the vast royal gardens. A white-pebbled path wound its way to a wooden bridge over a man-made brook, and up a small hill to a white pavilion. Its curtained walls were drawn back and the interior was decorated with divans, cushions, and an elegant desk and chairs. There was a table for refreshments. The king turned and smiled at the group, motioning with a long-fingered hand. “Please sit, eat and drink.” He stretched out upon a divan and regarded Serraria silently for a long moment. His gaze shifted to the others one by one.

“Now, who is the spokesperson for your group?”

“I am.” Soryn had not yet taken a seat. He stood near the desk, and produced the scroll from the pouch at his hip and placed it down upon the desk surface. “I am Guardian Krammer. I am sent by the Guardian Council of Shaylo to ask of you to read this scroll and then give me an answer to take back to the Council.” The king rose from where he had settled, and gracefully padded over to the desk. Pulling back the chair, he sat down and took up the scroll, proceeding to read its contents while Soryn waited patiently. Then finally the king spoke. “I will have to think on this,” he said quietly, his brow knotted in a frown. “It says that the Guardians are calling upon all the races found within the Golden Realms.” He turned then to look at Soryn. “I cannot agree if the Omarians are involved.”

Soryn frowned. He was about to speak when there was the sound of running footsteps and a guard stumbled into the pavilion, falling to his knees in front of the king. “High King, the coastal port of Silan has been attacked by the Omarians. They tried to storm the city walls but they were repelled. Lord Umbra begs reinforcements be sent immediately.” The guard bowed his head and waited for an answer.

Meaglin’s lips twitched as he slammed the scroll down onto the table and stood abruptly, looking down at the guard. “First they kill my Queen and now they insult me by attacking my coastal cities?” Anger gleamed in his eyes. “I will do more than send reinforcements. Tell Lord Umbra I will come with my army, and I will put an end to this once and for all!”

“NO! Wait!” Dovelin jumped up from the couch she had been resting on, somewhat pale at the anger of the king.

“No?” Meaglin glared at the lady in white. “What would you have me do, Peacekeeper, stand by while innocent victims are slaughtered?”

“No, my king, if you would allow me …” she said. The high king gave her a slight nod, looking impatient. “I would advise to send the aid that Lord Umbra requires to keep the coastal city from falling to the Omarians,” Dovelin licked her lips as she saw the king’s frown deepen, “And then I would call upon the Island of Shari to hold negotiations; if possible before war is declared.”

The king grunted slightly and sat back down at the desk. “I will think about it, Lady.” He looked to the guard. “You there, go and get some food, have your wounds tended and rest this night. I will have an answer come morning.” He looked to Soryn. “The same for you,” he said, than rose to his feet. “I am no longer in the mood for visitors.” With these words the king stormed out of the Pavilion.

“Did we succeed or not?” asked Serraria as she rose to her feet, licking her fingers that were sticky with dates.

“Not really.” Soryn shook his head. “We will find out in the morning. I am guessing that will have to do.” He sighed a little. “Come.” He turned his head, seeing a tall Krysalith standing silently on one of the white paths. “I believe we are to be shown to our rooms.” He took up the scroll and set off to follow the Krysalith guide.

Serreria felt Millianyia put an arm around her as they walked through the halls. She felt her cheeks burning up a little, as she thought over what she had just done. She cast looks over towards Soryn from time to time, feeling as if maybe she was stepping on toes with how she seemed to be interfering with things. But then she had been impatient and had wanted an answer rather than have them at the mercy of the High Kings court. She took in the halls, with the tall pillars, the lush satin curtains in the doorways and the elegant statues that stood against the walls depicting various acts of delight and entertainment that the Silvarian’s were known for. The Palace was rich in color and artistic murals that were splashed upon the walls. “So you live here a lot?”

Millianyia smiled lightly at the question and inclined her head as she walked at the girl’s side. She glanced around herself a moment, before speaking. “Yes, I live here a lot, this is like my second home. The Silvarian’s took me in, I found favor with the King and his family and have not left since other than to assist Kain in his endeavors from time to time.”

“It must be an interesting life of nonstop adventure. Whether you are here with the High King, or with Kain out and about. You must see quite a lot of the land and its various people than.”

Millianyia nodded her head at the girl’s observation. “Indeed that I do. I have gotten to know much of the various race’s through Kain and his friends. Put us all together and you literally have the four main race’s together in one happy little band of friends. It’s quite a delightful mix. We don’t always get along, and yet other times we are strongly in agreement over things. I feel it is proof that these races could work together if they really wanted to.”

Serraria smiled lightly, as she thought it all over, and then noticed that most of the company had been shown to rooms, and they were standing before the door of the room’s that were to be her own. She looked to Millianyia and felt something strange, as if she should know her, or sensed there was something familiar about her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She decided not to worry over it too much and said goodnight before slipping into her room to retire for the night.

Serraria paced her rooms. They were large, with a huge oak bed and piles of cushions, animal furs scattered about the floor, a big fireless hearth and huge thick drapes covering the windows. When the drapes were opened, the windows gave her a view of the royal private gardens. She moved to stand by a large windowsill, leaning on it as she admired the grounds. Serraria noted the trees here and there, the little bubbling brook, the bushes and flower gardens. It was very decorative, and it amused her that these Krysalith had placed such fine greenery in the center of their large city. She spotted movement in the garden and recognized the tall slender figure of the High King. A smaller figure was with him, a young female who wore flowers in her hair. Serraria guessed that that must be the king’s daughter whom Millianyia had mentioned. They were walking hand in hand along one of the paths, the child holding her father’s attention with a conversation.

Serraria smiled at this gentle moment as she leaned on the windowsill. It brought to her warm thoughts of home, of being with her own family. Than she was distracted by what looked like movement in the some bushes. A sense of alarm ran through her form. She quickly clambered onto the windowsill and jumped down, landing in a crouch on the ground below. She couldn’t see any guards around, as she moved quickly and quietly through the garden. With a careful step she crept from bush to bush and tree to tree until she was close enough to the suspicious shadows to get a better sense of what was there, detecting that they were Omarians from their smell and body signature. She shifted slightly behind the tree. The High King and his daughter were getting close to the site of the ambush and Serraria pondered whether to strike now or wait until they attacked the king and use the situation in her favor.

She waited a moment.

High King Meaglin and his daughter seemed to be unaware of their situation, and were startled when three men clad in black jumped out of the bushes with swords drawn, and attacked them. The little girl was hastily shoved behind her father. The king stumbled when he was stabbed in the side by one of the sword-wielding assassins. Serraria took that as her cue to enter into the action and jumped out from behind a tree, flinging a dagger at one, hitting him in the throat. He dropped, gurgling in his own blood as he died. She drew the sword that she wore on her back as she charged at the other two, who had by now noticed the new arrival. Swinging the blade left to block the sword of the second assailant, she lashed out with a booted foot, kicking the third, and sent him flying several feet to land heavily on his back in the rose bushes, howling. She returned her attention then to the second who was starting to lose his nerve and lowered his sword slightly. Taking advantage of this she quickly stepped in and punched him in the jaw. There was a sickly crunching sound of breaking bone as he flew back from the impact, hitting a tree trunk hard and sliding down to the ground unconscious. She turned then to look at the king nearby, his daughter clutching at his leg while he held a hand to his side. She smiled as she approached, sheathing her sword and bowed to both of them. “I believe they won’t try again, Sire,” she remarked.

“Thank you.” Meaglin smiled though he looked a little strained. “You have impeccable skill, little one. What is your name?”

“I am Serraria,” she said as she moved to retrieve her dagger, wiping off the blood onto the dead man’s clothing before sheathing it at her belt. “Allow me?” she gestured at the king’s wound. He removed his hand to show the blood staining his clothing. She drew closer and held her hand over the injury, softly humming as she did so. Meaglin watched as her hand began to glow a soft golden hue while she healed his injury.

“You are full of surprises,” he said after a moment. “Serraria, I ask that you become my champion on the battlefield,” he went on. He was starting to feel much better. “I have made my decision. I am going to make war upon the Omarians but with such a General as you leading my troops, I will win.” He looked at her fixedly. “What do you say?”

Serraria didn’t answer at first, as she was focused on healing his wound. She drew back her hand while thinking over his words, and considered what had been said in the Pavilion that afternoon. She looked up at him. “I will accept – but only if you give aid to the Guardians.”

Meaglin smirked at the girl. “You drive a hard bargain.” He nodded. “I will do so.” He reached down to lift his daughter up into his arms. She was staring at Serraria with unusual eyes. “Meet my daughter Tamaria.”

Serraria smiled at the girl. “Hello, Tamaria, will you be queen someday like your father is king?”

“Yes,” the girl responded, nodding her head as she gazed at Serraria, than wrapped her arms around her father’s neck.

Meaglin grinned at his daughter than spoke. “We will re-tire, bring your friends to the Throne room in the morning.” He turned and abruptly took his leave.

Serraria watched as father and daughter, king and princess left the garden. She noted that the guards had arrived and were carrying the bodies of the three assassins away, two of which yet lived. She guessed that they would receive Silvarian justice for their indiscretions. She rubbed her arms as she now felt tiredness from having healed the King. She had no doubt that she would be able to sleep now.

When morning arrived, the group rose early. They were situated in the guest wing of the palace, a long corridor that had several bedrooms attached to it, and a main dining room. At the dining table a large morning feast was laid out for them to enjoy. Soryn sat at the head of the table. He found the meal to be very rich and tasty; and he was not the only one. Grong cleaned his plate in 10 seconds before he was reaching to dish himself up some more. It seemed that the Silvarians were very good cooks. Everyone ate heartily, barely talking until they had all had enough. As they sipped sweet juice after the meal, Serraria chose to recount her adventure in the private gardens the night before. With a gleam in her sapphire eyes she looked towards Soryn. “He promised to say yes to your request if I became his General when he goes to war against the Omarians.” She then fell silent, waiting for their verdict on this new development.

“Serraria, we were trying to dissuade him from going to war.” Lady Dovelin was frowning at the girl. “I cannot condone your actions.”

“But I saved his life! Three Omarians tried to kill him!” snapped Serraria, her temper starting to fray as she stood up. “Or was I meant to let them kill him and his daughter?” She glared at the Peacekeeper.

“She does have a point.” Tarn spoke up from where he sat. “Kain and Ryu and I haven’t been rounded up because of her.” He nodded at Serraria. “She made a bargain; and if I know the Krysalith he’ll keep his word. We need him to help in the north, right?”

Dovelin frowned; then she looked to Soryn as if hoping for his support. “I have to agree with Serraria’s actions.” He said quietly, as Dovelin looked away. “Remember the Shan-gri-lia code – there are times when you cannot gain peace.”

Boar sighed as he put the last chicken leg down which he had been finishing off while listening to Serraria’s story. “Look, we don’t want war, Dovelin, but which is better? A war in the south between two races, or from the north with all these races decimated?”

Dovelin pushed herself to her feet. “Both options weigh heavily upon my shoulders. You do as you please.” She turned and left for her rooms.

Serraria sat in confused silence watching as the Peacekeeper left. Then she felt a hand rest on her arm and turned her head to look at Millanyia, who was smiling softly at her. “Don’t lose heart child, you had our mission in mind when you made the bargain.” She patted her arm. “You did well.”

Serraria felt her spirits lift and she smiled. “Thank you.” She looked towards Soryn. “The king said once we are ready to meet him in the throne room, he will be ready to give you the answer.”

Soryn nodded. “Well then, shall we?” and rose smoothly to his feet. It felt strange going to the throne room without Dovelin, as if they were missing someone important. The Throne room itself was empty of the Lords of the Houses of Silvaria this morning, except for the High King who stood by the hearth and two guards nearby. He turned when the group entered and smiled, crossing the marble floor with elegant grace. Stopping before Serraria he took her small hand, and bowed, kissing it softly before straightening up. “I have a gift for my savior,” he stated and turned, motioning a hand at the guards who approached. One held a pillow and on it rested a well-crafted sword. The pommel handle was a dragon in flight, the grip its body and the top its arching wings where a sapphire stone was clasped in tiny claws. Meaglin turned to pick up the sword and he held it out to her, hilt first. “My father’s sword, it is known as Dragon wing,” he smiled. “I give it to you.”

Serraria blinked. After a moment she reached out a slightly shaking hand to accept the sword, running a fingertip over the Krysalith runes engraved along the length of the blade. She smiled as she looked at the king. “You have my thanks. I will use it well.” The second guard then handed over the sheath and sword belt that went with it. She put it in its sheath before buckling the sword around her waist. The rest of the party looked on in astonishment as the king smiled and stepped back and looked at them.

“Now to business,” Meaglin pulled from his belt a scroll and handed it to Soryn, who stepped forward to receive it. “I will do as requested, send for me when you have need of me, my army will be ready to fight by the side of the Guardians.”

Soryn bowed as he took the scroll. “Thank you Sire, I am honored.” He straightened up and put the scroll into the pouch at his side.

Meaglin nodded. “When it is done,” he looked pointedly at Serraria, “Return here when you have finished with your current mission.” He smiled a little and withdrew from them.

Soryn took that as their cue to leave. He led the others through the palace corridors, and finally out of the Palace itself to where their horses stood waiting in the large main courtyard. “Time to go to Thilbare,” he said as he swung up into the saddle.

Serraria halted at the stairs and turned slowly to look back at the doors of the Palace that had slowly closed. Captain Koyote stood before the doors looking straight at her. She smiled at the man, while touching the hilt of the sword she now wore around her waist. It seemed that she was getting quite a collection of blades in this adventure. And each one seemed to hold a meaning for her. Her smile faltered as her thoughts then shifted to Lady Dovelin. She didn’t understand how the Peacekeeper could be so strongly against warfare. It was often the one way to put to end a disagreement between countries. The strongest country won, the weak country lost its people and resources. A simple means to dealing with arguments between bickering nations. Serraria turned her head to look towards the group of friends she was getting to know very well. None of them wanted war if they could help it, but they also all knew that to stop this enemy in the north, war would be the only way to stand against him.

Because Millanyia knew Silvaria well, she took them through the great forests directly to the foothills of the Thilbare Mountains. It was a quicker route than going along the lake shoreline. The trees were large, much like the Kilimanjari forest, but not as thick. And soon gave way to rocky ground. Eventually the tree line thinned out and Millianyia slowed her horse. It was starting to get late and they would need to camp soon. She turned her head, and smiled over at the Guardians. “Grong will take the lead in the morning, but I would suggest we camp here.” She reined in her horse as she looked around. “A nice even clearing, a small brook for water, grass for the horses to graze on.” She shifted in the saddle to dismount, the others following suit. Serraria sat down on a log and drew out her new sword to look it over. It was a keen-edged blade and she was proud of it. She looked up as Boar sat down beside her.

“May I see?” he asked.

She smiled and handed over her prized possession for him to look over. “A nice even feel about it,” he said thoughtfully, as he turned the sword around in his hand. He looked at the steel edge. “Very sharp, it’s been well made. Truly a king’s sword, my dear.” He handed the sword back to the girl. “That was quite a bargain you made with the king. I don’t think anyone else would have thought to do that.”

Serraria trailed fingers over the runes as she spoke quietly. “We need the allies, and I will be leaving after the war in the north. That will mean Meaglin will not get his war in the south.” She smiled as she glanced over at Boar. “That should make Lady Dovelin happy at least.” She looked over towards the Peacekeeper, who was organizing the evening’s supper.

Boar chuckled softly. “A Peacekeeper never wants to give up and have to acknowledge that wars will take place.” He looked back at the girl and winked. “It’s a difficult business that she’s in, but she takes it all in her stride,” he assured her gently.

Serraria beamed at him, than helped with tending of the campfire as everyone settled in for the night. Tomorrow they would meet the Mar’quie and while Serraria had met one so far through Grong she was curious to know what the rest of his people were like. She was calculating in her mind her observations of each of the races so far. The Omarians were far too greedy and distrustful for her to give any good recommendations about. The Killimanjarian’s had been slow to trust and yet they had a rich history. They were not arrogant, but were happy to share their wood craft with other’s and had had a roaring trade with the Omarian’s for some years because of it. The Silvarian’s while they seemed to be the arrogant ones, they held a knowledge of an intricate beauty she’d never seen before. They also had a rich history that came from across the sea. And she was curious to learn more, now she was about to grace the caves of the Mar’quie and gain a greater insight into this draconian race. She wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to sleep, the meeting of each new race had been highly exciting for her.

Boar smiled as he watched the girl, he could almost hear her mind going over time just from the look in her eyes. He pulled out a little pipe, lit it and then puffed out some smoke in her general direction. Her eyes got droopy and then she curled up on her bedroll falling fast asleep. He grinned a little to himself, as he puffed on his pipe a little longer before movement caught his attention, he saw a shadow of a form slipping away. His sharp gaze quickly checked on Ryu who had drawn the short straw of being on first watch and noted the poor man was slumped against a stump fast asleep. The Guardian shook his head slightly as he rose to his feet, and stole off into the growing darkness of the night, to see where the Dark Krysalith was going.

Rakkath waited with infinite patience until he was certain the group was asleep. They always left someone awake during the night, each taking turns for the night watch. He checked cautiously on the current member on watch -Ryu, before he slipped away into the trees, making sure he wasn’t seen. Running quietly through the night, he made his way to the lake’s shoreline, splashing into the water and waiting. It was not long before a black figure could be seen walking along the lake shore towards him, hooded and wrapped up in a cloak. There was a boat beached nearby.

Rakkath spoke quietly as he was finally joined by his companion. “They have managed to get the Kilimanjarin and Silvarian Krysalith on side to aid them in the war to the north. They now attempt to gain the alliance of the Mar’quie, then the Dragons of Drakebare. Does the master have any orders for me?”

“No, continue as you are. I will come again after you have seen the dragons,” was the response from Malificant. “Has the girl done anything … strange?”

Rakkath was quiet for a long moment, thinking back to what he had seen and heard. Then he said quietly, “The signs that the Seer spoke of are coming to pass. The girl is manifesting powers beyond anything I have ever seen.” He looked over towards Malificant. “She has much potential.”

Malificent frowned. She felt jealous of this girl-child who was the object of the Wolf King’s current obsession. She didn’t like to think that she would be replaced by this Dragon child. Something would have to be done about that. She nodded at Rakkath’s words before she turned and started walking back the way she had come towards the boat drawn up on the sand.

Rakkath frowned as he looked up at the moon for a long moment. He felt some sense of regret as to what he was doing. Then he turned to make his way back to the camp and the companions who had no idea about the spy in their midst. Or perhaps someone did …

“Went for a nice walk, Rakkath?”

Rakkath turned sharply, to find Boar leaning against a tree, arms folded over his chest, a frown on his angular features. “Yes, I was getting a good look at the moons,” he said as he continued on his way towards the camp.

“You weren’t telling someone about what we are doing, were you?” Boar asked as he moved to follow the Dark Krysalith. “You’re not perhaps leaking information to the Wolf King about what we’re doing and where we’re going, are you?”

Rakkath turned his head and looked sharply at the Shadow Warrior. “Do I have to make an account of my whereabouts to you, Guardian?” he demanded in a harsh voice.

“Perhaps,” Boar bumped shoulders with Rakkath deliberately as he walked past. “I was born curious, asking questions happens to be what I do best. I am also a natural at smelling out rats.”

Rakkath gritted his teeth, and glared at the Guardian as he stopped in his tracks a moment, before continuing on back to the campsite. He silently settled down on his bedroll, feeling Boar watching him closely until he appeared to be sleeping.

The Shadow Warrior idly snapped a twig in half, and then tossed the wood onto the fire which awoke Ryu who had dosed off. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take over your watch.”

Ryu gave Boar a sheepish look, ducking his head before he eagerly settled down to sleep. Boar shook his head slightly as he chucked another stick onto the campfire. It seemed that there was a conspiracy right in their midst. He had hoped that Rakkath would prove him wrong, that one of his kind could also turn against the Warlords of the north just as he had. But it seemed that Rakkath could not be trusted. He would have to keep a close eye on the Dark Krysalith and raise the issue with Soryn a little later. From what he had overheard, Rakkath was giving accounts of their actions so the Wolf King was well aware of their movements so far south out of his reach. He had to wonder what the Wolf King would do, once they returned to the Pass, and what had they meant by ‘dragon child’? Who was that? He would have to pay attention to who Rakkath was pertaining to, to figure out that particular little mystery. He propped himself up against a log, crossed his ankles and settled in for a few hours of staying awake and keeping watch over the rest of the group while they rested.