Spirit Blood: Genesis of War

Many centuries after…

The horses stomped in the mud as the thunder crashed above them. The lightening ripped across the sky illuminating the battleground below. The field of battle was littered with the devastation of burnt and torn down trees and black patches where grass had once been. Fallen comrades scattered the ground and the smell of blood and burnt flesh filled the air. Jason sat upon his horse with perfect posture in his techmagi cyber armor, the color of silver and gold with the emblems of griffons and lions adorning his chest and legs. His eagle head shaped helmet gleamed with every flash of lightening. The robotic visor on his helmet was deactivated exposing his bearded face, hazel eyes and long nose recently turned red due to the cold winds and rain. Jason looked deep into the clouded sky remembering the old stories he had been told as a child about a burning spirit returning someday. In some small way he hoped they had been true. Alas, he thought to himself, Just children’s tales I’m sure. The thought was fleeting and left his mind as quickly as it had come.

Rain continued to drip from his nose as he stared at the used battlefield searching for an advantage point. He’d had no such luck yet. Jason’s concentration was so intense he didn’t notice his name being called in the distance. He thought to himself with a sigh, I see nothing out there that resembles any type of positioning advantage. The messenger yelling his name was becoming louder and closer, yet Jason continued to assess the battlefield. It looks as if it’s going to be a straight on battle…(sigh) I wish I had some reinforcements coming. Then I would be happy.

Suddenly noticing the panting messenger beside him, Jason turned to him hoping beyond hope that he was delivering news he really wanted to hear. Exhausted from the run and the weight of his heavy armor, the young messenger stood with both hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. Jason thought to himself, This boy doesn’t look older than fifteen and much too lean for his armor.

“What’s the message young man?” Jason asked, dismounting his horse.

“King Kalagin and General Haldrov are over in the meadow clearing, Sir.”

Jason straightened his posture and began scanning the area until he saw the highflying banners of the king’s caravan. He looked at the young messenger and gave into the lingering thoughts of the impending battle and the casualties to be had.

“Thank you, son. I want you to turn in your armor and go home for now,” Jason stated.

Weeping with shame, the boy held his face in his trembling hands.

“What’s your name, son?” Jason asked.

The messenger boy looked at Jason with weepy eyes, “Peter Crisp, Sir.”

“Peter, I’m not decommissioning you from our military. You are simply needed elsewhere. The kingdom of Talkain needs your help in protecting her walls. I need you to get on the next convoy out of here.”

Peter wiped his eyes dry and saluted Jason by placing his right arm across his body, his fist over his heart and slightly bowing.

“Yes, Sir,” Peter shouted excitedly and took off to the back of the line.

After Peter had left to the rear, Jason once again turned his attention to the banners. This may not be a good thing having them here, Jason thought to himself with yet another sigh. His pace quickened as he walked towards the general, steadily wondering just why they were here anyway.

Before Jason knew it he was standing before both the king and the general. He shook his head clear of all thought and looked at both of them as if he had just awakened from a dream. Finally remembering to do so, Jason saluted them for it had been quite a while since he had not been the top ranking officer here. The sound of the banners flapping in the wind filled the air above the chatter of soldiers in the background. Jason sniffed the air just noticing the faint scent of perfume. He knew this could only mean that the queen sat in the wagon only a few feet away. Jason stood and eyed both the king and General Haldrov.

Glancing over at the wagon he stated, “Your Majesty, do you think it wise to have your wife here in the midst of all this carnage?”

The king smiled at Jason with a superior grin, “Well Captain, when my household becomes your business only then will I bring worry on to it.”

With that said, Jason simply glared at the king like he had done many times before, then turned his attention to the general. The general was a tall, broad man with well-kept hair and beard. His eyes had a continuous stern look about them, however were also kindly set with a light blue hue. His armor was made up like Jason’s as far as the technology put into it, but its design was much different. Haldrov’s red colored armor had designs of leafy vines wrapping around his arms and legs leading up to a pure white rose design on his chest. The color of the rose told what order of the knights he was in. Haldrov’s ferocious lions head helmet was so well known, children’s stories had been written about it when Jason was a child. The general’s heroism was spoke of throughout the land of Krysala and most enemies shuddered at the mere mention of his name. The hilt of his infamous great sword, Deadly Wave, was one of a kind. It was unknown as to how exactly he’d acquired the blade. Jason was over average height for human males, yet he had to look up at the general to look into his eyes.

Not hiding his annoyance, Jason asked, “General, if I may ask, why did he bring his wife here?”

The general shook his head, “That’s not all he brought.”

Jason quickly glanced at the cart and then back at Haldrov’s unhappy expression.

“He brought his children too, didn’t he?”

General Haldrov nodded with a faint expression of disgust on his face. Turning aggressively, Jason walked towards the cart and knocked twice. Electronically the door slid open revealing the queen resting upon a pile of pillows looking as beautiful as ever. Her long brown hair was tied up into a loose bun with a spiral curl falling down both sides of her face. Her lips were red and full and her green eyes lit up after she recognized, through his abundant and unkempt facial hair, just who the man knocking was. She propped herself up on one elbow with an endearing smile as Jason peeked his head into the royal cart.

Jason, suddenly remembering he was speaking to the queen, stopped and presented himself with a salute, “Your Majesty…”

Jason’s words fell short as her enchanting accented voice spoke up, “Jason, you’re being too formal. I think we’re above that. Don’t you?”

Jason gave a slight grin, but straightened it quickly remembering why he had come over to speak with her in the first place.

“Well, your Majesty, I don’t believe it has anything to do with being formal or informal in greeting when it comes to titles.”

She could hear the sincerity in Jason’s voice even with his military like demeanor and changed her smile into a look of seriousness normally shown to everyone except Jason.

“By all means then, Captain, go ahead and speak your peace.”

Jason gave a slight nod bouncing the water off his bushy hair and earnestly asked his question.

“Why, just why, have you come here, Queen Thessa?”

He asked almost pleading for a logical answer. Thessa grinned once again enjoying the sound of her name being said by her dear friend with such concern.

“Because my husband wanted his children to see his victory,” she answered, trying to hold back her contempt for her husband’s request.

Jason turned his attention away from the queen’s enticing look and peered into the cart a little further to see fourteen year old Amon covered in blankets peering out his window and twelve year old TaeAnne nuzzled between her pillow and her fine fur blankets fast asleep. Seeing the two dear children, he couldn’t help but look down at the muddy ground and his own blood stained boots in irritation that their father would see it proper for them to be here.

Looking back at the queen with sorrow in his eyes and a calm pleading in his voice, Jason demanded, “Thessa, whatever you do, do not leave this cart until you are at home safe.” Pointing at the two children, never taking his gaze from off hers, he added, “Keep them inside as well.”

With his warning fresh in her heart, Thessa answered, “Yes, of course. I will Jason, I promise.”

With a nod of understanding, Jason turned from the cart and returned to where the general was standing.

Amon looked at his mother as she stared out the window after Jason, “You’re very fond of him aren’t you, Mother?”

Thessa grinned; entertained that her son felt he knew something that wasn’t obvious.

“Yes, Amon, I am. Jason is a dear old friend. He was there before I was queen and has never treated me differently because of it.”

Amon turned his attention back to the window staring at the gloomy afternoon day as he mumbled, “Friends like that are rare, aren’t they, Mother.”

Arising from her seat, Thessa went to Amon’s side and sat next to him. She pulled him close to her and began to run her fingers through his thick dark brown hair.

“Yes, good friends like that are very rare, but they are worth more than any amount of money or regal title, I can assure you.”

Settling into his mother’s bosom, Amon responded, “I see that now, Mother.”

Thessa looked around the cart at her children and felt the concern that Jason had expressed. She gave caution to her heart snuggling close to both of them refusing to let them go.

Jason approached the grim faced general as he eyed the battlefield.

“What do you see?” The general asked in almost a whisper.

Jason stood at the general’s side, and with only a glance answered, “Unfortunately, I see despair and no point of advantage.”

The general’s expression didn’t move or flinch, he merely stood with both arms behind his back.

“That’s the advantage, Jason,” he said with great confidence.

Shaking his head, Jason announced, “I don’t quite follow, Sir.”

“You see, they don’t have any advantage points either,” the general replied with a slight grin, never looking away from the battlefield.

How wise, thought Jason as he simply nodded in agreement.

Turning towards Jason, Haldrov looked endearingly at him. His heart soared with pride for the man before his eyes. Jason had come so far since the day Haldrov had found him and took him in when he was a small child. With no living parents to take care of him, Jason was found lying under only Shiloh’s protection and a damp blanket. He was fast asleep and hidden in a town that had been annihilated by the goblin hordes of the Dark Army when they had first shown signs of heavy aggression. Now, as a man, Jason was the leader of thousands of men marching into a great battle against the very same enemy that caused his parentless beginning. Haldrov believed Jason’s rebellion towards the king had to be a sign of wisdom for his reluctance to bow before a questionable ruler could never be from pride or a rebellious heart as Jason possessed neither. He sighed as he thought about all the long battles Jason had endured and survived. Please Shiloh, he silently prayed in his mind, let there be yet one more.

With heartfelt desperation in his voice in a tone barely above a whisper, Haldrov finally said, “I want you to be careful, Jason. Do you have a plan of action?”

“Yes, Sir, I have,” Jason answered. “I will flush out the enemy with my catapult and cannon fire. After, I plan on mowing a large number of them down with my Riflemen Company and archers. Finally, with cavalry leading the way, we will charge in for the clean up with me going directly after the dark commander. Be it Shiloh’s will, of course.”

Shocked, yet pleased, Haldrov added, “I have taught you well, Jason, but beware of these dark commanders. They are dangerous and ruthless. Nothing seems to stop them.”

Haldrov was cut short by the blowing of a barbaric horn in the distance.

“Don’t worry, General. I will not fail. If I am to die, it will be with my army winning the battle.”

Haldrov shook his head, “No, there will be no martyrs here today. I’ll be put in my grave before I allow my best captain to die before me at my advanced age.”

Curiously Jason took his eyes off the field and, smiling, glanced at the general, “Does that mean you will be joining us in the battle?”

The excitement in Jason’s voice made Haldrov smile, yet he shook his head with many regrets running through his mind. “No, my dear friend, I will not be joining the attack. I must regretfully stay behind and protect King Kalagin.”

Jason replied, “That is most unfortunate for us, but I will not fail you.”

Jason made his way to his horse, clad in its own armor that shined of silver and gold like his own, waiting at the head of the cavalry. A stable boy helped him mount his metallic looking horse as Jason grabbed the reigns and adjusted himself in the saddle. Sweeping his hand over an odd colored jewel, his eagle’s head shaped helmet was activated along with the robotic face guard making him appear like a man sized robotic griffon. Deactivating his face guard, Jason stared at the battlefield one last time. Using memories of lost friends, young soldiers slain, and the innocent civilians that needed protection, he prepared his mind for battle.

Having witnessed the intense stare Jason had adopted many battles ago, Haldrov knew Jason was now ready and the time to rally the troops had finally come. Bounding onto his horse, as if he were still a young soldier of twenty, Haldrov rode out in front of all the troops yelling his speech so that every man could hear.

“Soldiers! Soldiers!” He cried out.

All that knew the general immediately halted their talking and silenced their subordinates to hear his speech. Haldrov rode from one end to the other until all was silent and then began to speak.

“I see in front of me men ready to wipe out their enemy!”

With that said, a large wail of excitement flooded the air.

“I see the rulers of the day! And I see soldiers who are going to free this land of tyranny and evil!”

Again the soldiers roared with excitement and anticipation, but went silent as the general stopped his horse before them. He sighed seeing the many youth that stood in front of him uncomfortably clad in the heavy armor.

“Unfortunately, some of you will die.” With rising exhilaration in his voice he added, “but it will take a hundred of them to every one of us!”

The soldiers began to hit their shields with their fists and swords sounding out a huge battle cry.

“Now, do not worry about death for it will come as swiftly to them as it will us, but we will join our ancestors in Paradise forever standing in the presence of our almighty Shiloh. In Paradise He will have us extinguish the flames of Sheol itself!”

Haldrov raised his hand up to silence the soldiers’ cries once again. “Now, let us go, and worry not about ourselves, but take on the task of smiting the wicked and bring justice to those unruly creatures of darkness!”

The crowd bellowed and cheered for the last time, but now with the confidence that they would rule the day and destroy their dark enemy.

Jason swiped his hand from the top of his helmet down his face activating his face guard to lower down. He looked to his right where one of his faithful lieutenants, Masad, sat upon his horse. His helmet was without mechanical technology; instead, his face guard had the appearance of an enraged expression. Masad nodded at Jason letting him know that he was ready.

“Let us gain a victory my friend,” Masad stated from under his face guard.

Jason smiled from underneath his own helmet, reached his hand out and the two men clasped each other’s forearms.

“May Shiloh watch over you my friend,” Jason replied.

“With you as well,” Masad said.

The two men turned their attention back to the muddy battlefield just to meet the gaze of intruding eyes from across the field. Hordes of goblins waited with their beady black eyes and snarling teeth twitching anxiously to fight. Jason and Masad watched as the dark army moved their lines forward and created a battle formation of their own. Then the dark commander made his appearance as he strode forth to the front riding his demonic looking steed. This creature took the appearance of a horse, but had red eyes, a mane of fire red hair, blood red hooves that forked into jagged edges, huge saber looking fangs sprouting from the top and bottom of the mouth, a thick tail with a spiked metal tip and horns spiraling down the sides of his face like a ram’s.

The dark commander who sat upon the evil steed was dressed in all black armor, similar to that of Jason’s, but with designs of a skull on both pecks of his chest and a large serpent that intertwined up his arms. His cape was crimson red and his helmet came down only far enough to cover his eyes leaving exposed his pale white skin and strong clean-shaven chin. Even sitting, the dark commander looked much larger than any normal man and intimidation brooded off of him like that of a dangerous beast.

He showed neither fear nor care for his own troops. Death rode with this creature for he was no man, but a loyal servant of evil and destruction. Jason knew then that his theory was correct and this creature was the only reason these impudent goblins had even remotely been able to make any headway in this war. However, Jason was puzzled why this creature, if he wanted a victory, would allow his army to suffer such casualties from ill direction as they had time and time again though out the war?

He was desperate to finally face off with this dark commander. Never before in this war had a dark commander come out on the battlefield. It seemed more their style to send others to fight for them, but their unbeatable strength in fighting was well spoken of amongst the ranks. If the rumors he’d heard around the kingdom were indeed true, then this particular creature was the last of five dark overlords who had once commanded the Dark Army.

Jason looked down the line at his second lieutenant, Stephan, and signaled to him with a wave of his hand. Stephan saw the signal and ordered the catapults, cannon, rifleman, and archers to ready themselves, and with tension rising, gave the order to fire. The battlefield became an instant inferno blazing from the tops of the trees down to some of the scrambling goblins. Stephan ordered the infantry to ready themselves as the onslaught of cannon fire, catapult fire, and arrows sailed through the air to find their mark and shots from rifles riddled the battlefield.

The dark commander sent his remaining troops to charge and his archers to fire into the massive group submerged in the battle. His only thought was that all who stood were expendable whether they were his men or not. Stephan looked to Jason as he signaled for the infantry attack. The riflemen stopped firing and the catapults and cannons ceased their destruction. Stephan, however, ordered the archers to continue their attack, but only on the opposing enemy archers in the far back. Jason heard the order and raised his sword high into the air with Masad and ordered the charge with a courageous yell and the quick unsheathing of his blade. Out the army of Talkain rode into the last battle for freedom!

The trees rustled in the slight breeze made by the quick traveling shadows moving silently through the forest. The army of elves were all hooded, yet some wore the armor of their knights. Each of them traveled with stealth rather than with great armament. The leader and prince, Terrell Glimmerblade, stopped suddenly and raised his head into the air. Breathing in deeply, he caught the scent of burning forest and flesh.

His general, and second in command, stepped next to him and spoke in an Elvin tongue, “What is it, my Prince?”

Terrell raised his hand to silence his general, listening intently to the breeze.

“The battle is not far, I smell death and fire. The sound of death by men and goblins is in the air. We must make haste before it is too late and the dark commander sends in his secondary troops.”

The general nodded and the large army of elves began to move faster than before across the land to reach the battle.

Lockefren Brinwood sprang from place to place with the swiftest of the elves, but was abruptly stopped by a fellow soldier

“What are you doing, Lorith? Prince Terrell has said to move swiftly and to get to the battle,” she asked.

Lorith grinned evilly moving towards her until he had her unexpectedly pinned against a tree.

“No,” Lorith said crudely, “he told the Elvin people to go to the battle, not worthless half-breeds like yourself!”

Lockefren knew that her half-Elvin, half-human blood was a problem to some, but she didn’t consider that it would be during a war that the prejudice elves would demean her.

“What’s the matter, Lorith? Are you jealous that I, a lowly half-breed, will show you up with my bow?” She spouted.

Lockefren’s sarcasm bit into Lorith pushing him to angrily draw out his sword. Fortunately, a high-ranking officer, Benthalas Wenguard, stepped forward grabbing his wrist, halting Lorith from his attack on Lockefren.

“Stop this right now. There is never a time for bigotry, especially now when we need all able to fight on our side.”

Benthalas’ grip tightened when he didn’t feel Lorith relax. The pain surged through Lorith causing him to finally loosen his grip and relax his stance.

Benthalas looked into Lorith’s eyes deeply and seriously saying, “I think it’s time for you to use your anger in a more productive manner.”

Lorith spitefully sheathed his sword and took off to catch up with the others. Lockefren stood amazed that someone would come to her defense as she looked into Benthalas’ deep blue eyes.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

Benthalas halted her with his hand and said, “I didn’t want you to hurt him. We may need him later.”

With a smile between the two, Benthalas and Lockefren bounded off quickly to catch up with the rapid moving Elvin army. Benthalas caught up to the commanders of the group and took his position in the ranks. Terrell had him summoned forward to inquire as to what the hold up had been.

“Yes, my Prince?” Benthalas asked with anticipation. “What do you need of me?”

Terrell focused his attention ahead of him as he answered, “What seems to be the problem to cause your delay, Ben?”

Benthalas shook his head, “No problems, my lord. No problems at all.”

Terrell gave Benthalas a quick icy glance that made Ben lower his head.

“Well, only a small altercation between Lockefren and Lorith, your Majesty.”

Terrell needed no more and excused Benthalas from his side to go back to his position. He knew well of Lorith’s view’s on half-elves and that he despised Lockefren for being allowed in the city of Sherlin-Dea when she was human-blooded. Lorith had prominent family and they carried much influence, as well as a shared view of half-breeds with the majority of the great council of elders. Terrell and his father, King Sess, could not afford to ignore their complaints for anyone’s sake, especially a half-breed elf like Lockefren. He knew regrettably what he must do about her, even though he believed with all his heart that it was wrong. However, he truly had no choice, for the stability of his people and land had to come first. But, for now, it would have to wait for a better time.

From the top of his valiant steed, Jason slew one after another of the goblin hordes with a series of mighty swipes from his vibrating blade. He continued to fight his way to the flat where the dark commander sat waiting for the next brave, yet foolish, man to challenge him. Jason noticed, as he made his way, that the dark steed trampled the remains of soldiers that had dared to test their luck against the commander. Undaunted, Jason traversed faster and faster, leaping over the grotesque goblins in his path. He continued to fight his way through the line of creatures until he reached the flat. Not even the small army of goblins surrounding the flat would enter the area out of fear of their commander.

Jason faced his horse towards the dark commander in front of him and, in the robotic voice his helmet produced, yelled out, “This war is futile for your small brigade of creatures, Commander! The victory will be ours!”

From behind his helmet, the dark commander was an eerie sight that sent shivers down the spine of the most courageous of men.

“Victory is NOT my goal today, foolish one!” The commander’s voice was deep and threatening with the almost faint sound of a serpent hissing. “So be off and conquer these pitiful creatures, I care not!”

Jason shook his head pointing his sword at the dark commander. He replied, “You will join them in the depths of Sheol where you were spawned, creature!”

As Jason uttered these last words, he charged the commander, raising his sword above his head ready to strike. The dark commander was taken back by the tenacity of this human, however, was even more entertained that this man actually believed he stood a chance against him. Standing his ground, the commander prepared for the metallic covered horse and attacker headed towards him. He readied himself for Jason’s sword never losing his smile of arrogance. Having only been a few yards from the commander, Jason quickly ran tactical maneuvers through his mind never removing his eyes from his target. A sly grin fell across Jason’s face under his robotic mask as ideas began to swarm his thoughts. Finally, the two clashed as Jason reached his opponent with a downward slash of his sword and a quick move back up across the front of the commander’s shield. His moves seemed to be anticipated by the commander, however, for he moved much quicker then anyone Jason had ever faced off with before. Neither of his strikes seemed to affect the commander, as he never budged from his position. The power of Jason’s blows against an unmoving target, instead, almost knocked him off his own saddle. He quickly turned his horse around ready to charge the commander again. He noticed now that his opponent was actually no bigger than himself, but was obviously much stronger.

This isn’t going well, Jason thought to himself as he charged towards the commander. The commander then started towards Jason himself preparing to charge. Jason realized in the seconds before the impact that he was in very possible danger. The commander was faster and stronger than himself just standing or sitting still. How much more powerful could he be charging at him at full speed? The two knights came closer and closer to one another until finally they collided with Jason swinging his sword low to try and take out the legs of the commander’s dark steed. The commander’s sword, being able to move twice as fast, was able to quickly swing over Jason’s head and then under, connecting with his breastplate.

Both men went flying from their horses, the commander forward over the horse’s head and Jason to the side of his horse, into the murky mud around them. In a splash of quickness in the mud, both men rose to their feet and squared off with one another standing defensively ready to block their opponent’s strike. Noticing his wounded steed on the ground, the commander wandered over to it without ever removing his gaze from Jason. Without feeling, he turned his blade to face downward and decapitated his horse with a quick strike of fury. Jason swiftly moved his hand up over his face guard to deactivate his now damaged helmet.

Meeting the exposed eyes of Jason, the commander grinned and said in a calm voice, “Now, I can see I was right about you. You will be my finest victory yet.”

The commander’s voice had no hint of being hurt or winded, but his heaving chest revealed to Jason the truth.

“I will not be your victory, foolish one!” Jason shouted.

For the first time, the evil grin left the commander’s face. He reached up, and with his empty hand, removed the half-helmet that covered his own eyes. Expecting to see some deformed or demonic creature of some kind, Jason was shocked to see before him a face of beauty. The commander had eyes of gray like shadows of clouds over muted ice. His hair, now out of his helmet, flowed down his shoulders illuminating with its brilliant color of silver. His skin was pale and flawlessly handsome having the unmistakable appearance of an elf while still retaining a seemingly human face. While indeed shocked, Jason didn’t blink as he stood staring at his opponent.

“My name is Léon Tinsmith. I find it only proper to introduce myself to you since I would like for you to tell your god, Shiloh, who exactly it was that sent you to meet him,” the commander spoke with an amazingly sincere look upon his face.

Jason shrugged his shoulders, “Then you have wasted your breath.”

The tension between these knights filled the air as thick as fog with neither man wavering, only waiting for the other’s attack. After a few moments, Jason lunged at Léon with ferocious speed and strength. Léon met him in the middle, and with the same intensity, blocked Jason’s blow. There both men fought with immeasurable fortitude sending bright multi-colored sparks into the air with each connection their swords made. Their grace and speed were awesome to any who were fortunate to witness it.

Unfortunately, Léon was quicker than Jason landing two decisive blows upon his body. One severe cut across his sword arm and the other grazing his left cheek. Jason lost his balance at the force brought to his face and landed in the thick mud below. Laying in agony from the explosive wound to his arm, Jason tried to clear his eyes of splattered mud only to see Léon walking over towards him.

When Léon reached Jason his evil grin returned, “How easy…what a disappointment.”

He raised his sword to lay the final strike when suddenly a voice came from behind him. Just then, his blade was blocked by Masad. His attack forced Léon’s sword away from Jason. Léon quickly and furiously turned his attention to Masad.

“Try someone that isn’t on the ground, coward,” yelled Masad as he turned his horse back around to face the commander.

Léon only began to laugh a deep menacing laugh, “You think you can beat me? I have won victory over your leader, yet YOU think you can beat me.”

Again the commander let out an eerie and loud cackle with a crazed look in his eyes. As Masad charged again at him, Léon struck the legs of his horse catapulting Masad over the top. The fallen horse fell sliding within inches of hitting Jason. After glancing at the fallen Jason, Léon strode over to Masad scoffing. Masad was injured from the fall, but mustered his strength to stand prepared to do whatever he could to save his friend. Seeing the courage and strength yet another of these humans displayed, Léon grew more cautious towards his opponent raising his sword ready for another fight. Masad watched Léon with one eye and kept the other on Jason, who was now crawling along the ground to grab his dropped sword.

Léon charged at Masad taking him off guard. Masad was fast enough to block the strike, but was knocked off his feet by the power of the blow. Léon pounced upon Masad, leaping into the air. With lightening speed, Léon plunged his sword deep into the chest of Masad killing him in a ripple of agony.

Jason, witnessing his friend’s demise, scrambled to his feet. “NOOOO!”

Shocked by the sound of fight Jason still possessed, Léon turned his attention back to him, withdrawing his sword from Masad’s chest. Jason struggled to stand as Léon sauntered over towards him. Jason swung his sword wildly attacking Léon with such aggressiveness that Léon was pushed backwards, forced to deflect the blows. However, weakened and badly injured, Jason’s swings quickly lost their momentum and Léon found no difficulty in blocking them. Finally, Jason fell to the ground panting having spent the last of his strength.

“Too bad for you and your friend,” the victorious commander brashly whispered to Jason.

Léon raised his blade just as three arrows rapidly struck his side. With a gasp, he dropped his blade wailing in pain. When he turned towards his attacker he was shocked to see a hooded woman standing upon a small boulder readied to fire another arrow. Jason rolled over and noticed his timely hero. He struggled to his feet away from the reach of Léon.

Léon, now in searing pain, became aware of the number of elves who had begun to descend from the forest onto the battlefield. Each elf began to open fire upon the remaining goblins cutting each of them down in a blinding haze. Léon grew furious realizing his reserve forces must have been defeated if these elf-creatures had come through the forest. Knowing he was beaten, Léon turned toward the thick forest behind him. Darting past three elves, anxious to retreat, he narrowly escaped the whizzing arrows aimed for his head.

Jason began to chase after Léon, but quickly stopped falling to one knee, while holding the chest wound that had knocked him off his horse. The Elvin woman lowered her bow and ran to his aid. She knelt down onto the blood-soiled earth and laid Jason’s head upon her lap.

Jason hazily gazed up into her almond shaped, violet colored eyes. “I have failed my people,” he struggled to say in a tone of regret.

Lowering her hood, she smiled at him. “No you didn’t. You were brave and the battle is won.”

Jason shook his head, and with every word a physical strain, said, “No, my lady. He will return and, Shiloh forbid, he will be worse than before.”

Having spent his last morsel of strength, Jason began to fall into unconsciousness. He heard only the faint words of Lockefren calling out for help in both Elvin and common tongue before the darkness covered him.

All around him was the vision of loveliness. Fields of green captivated the senses with blooming flowers of purple, yellow and red. In the middle of a courtyard stood a fountain of marble sprouting from the vine-entangled structure in eight different directions a show of colored water that took on the appearance of a mass of long stalked flowers shooting from the opening of a vase. Jason was amazed at the beautiful spectacle before him. He knew this place well. It was his home amidst the White Palace of Talkain where his life and heart had always been. His attention was moved down to his feet with the sound of armor hitting the cobblestone road. He was surprised to see himself dressed in a suit of gold clad armor complete with a cape of flowing white silk. His hair was clean and trimmed and his face was clean-shaven; two things he hadn’t experienced the comfort of in quite some time. Walking towards the palace Jason couldn’t help but wear an ever-growing smile of contentment as he shook the hands of all the friendly, welcoming people strolling here and there around him. As he looked around in astonishment he even noticed how tame the forest surrounding the village seemed.

How did I get home, he wondered noticing the elaborate stone bridge leading into the palace. The golden portcullis was shut and heavily guarded with two royal guards of Talkain standing watch. Still making his way towards the bridge, he reveled in the beauty of the guards’ uniforms engraved with the kingdom emblem of a rising golden phoenix amid a sun crested shield in the middle of two crisscrossing swords of gold.

Suddenly, before him, the entire castle was ablaze with a fire of unknown origins. The sounds of innocent folk screaming in pain and agony were all around him. Instinctively reaching for his long sword, he found only an empty sheath. In a panic of desperation, Jason ran towards the castle over the bridge where he found the two guards laying dead on the ground from an overpowering sword battle. Unarmed and bewildered, Jason sprinted into the kingdom only to see the shops and homes of his fellow statesman on fire and the surviving people fleeing from goblin hordes. Jason watched helplessly in shock as the men, women and children suffered at the hands of these monstrous goblins. Searching back and forth for something that made sense, he saw the face of the leader; it was Léon! Jason charged after him, but as he neared his enemy, Léon’s handsome elegant features melded into a twisted, evil and demonic spectacle. For the first time ever, Jason was afraid of what he saw before him and he ran away from his misshapen opponent. Before he could get two steps away, however, there in front of him again, was the menacing face of Léon. Panic stricken, Jason searched all around him frightfully noticing that every surviving person around stood staring at him as they transformed into the same mangled figure as Léon and every goblin into fiery winged devils. The only sound to be heard now was the indescribable chattering laugh of the creatures surrounding him. Jason fell to his knees covering his ears, but the noise only got louder and louder and the images inside his head closer and closer until finally the only sound was his own screaming voice.

Lockefren sat outside the med-tent and waited patiently for any signs of recovery from the knight she had saved. There had been no improvement for almost three days now and she worried he might remain as he was for the rest of his life. She only had her memories to keep her company. She replayed the moments before her conversation with Prince Terrell, prior to the Elvin army leaving for home, for those memories were much more pleasant than the actual conversation.

Everyone had been so happy and the elated cheers for the battle won had only been the beginning of a night of celebration and feasting. The soldiers had been so nice to her making her feel welcomed and appreciated. Here she had felt real happiness and a sense of belonging. This was a memory she found quite hard to duplicate to any other in her life. But, her happiness was interrupted when Prince Terrell took her aside delivering the dreadfully anticipated speech that now left her all alone:

“My dear, I must regretfully decommission you from the service of my father, King Sess. It’s for your own safety and to protect the honor of your family. Please know, I love you as one of my people, but I’m afraid there are many who do not see things as I do. I want you to consider me a friend, and no matter where I may be, I will be watching over you.”

The wound of his words and apparent care for her were still too fresh. Her eyes began again to water remembering how kind Terrell had been in trying to comfort her. It seemed he couldn’t speak much louder than a whisper, which she assumed, was because he was trying so hard to be gentle and calming. She could still feel the tender embrace he’d given her before he summoned the other elves and vanished out of sight into the dense forest.

She had been recalling these memories for some time before she finally brought herself back to the here-and-now. When can I see him, she thought concerning the knight she had saved just three days ago. After the battle the knight had been brought to the med-tent and was still unconsciousness. Lockefren never left his side hoping to be present when, and if, he awoke. On this particular day the doctors and healers had come to try a new procedure to wake him and she couldn’t be present for it. So, here she was, waiting and waiting for any news of the brave knight. Suddenly the terrified scream of a man came from inside the tent startling Lockefren and resulting in other men rushing inside to see the cause. She burst through the tent, sword drawn, searching for an intruder of some kind when she noticed her brave ward sitting erect in his cot dripping in a cold sweat.

Noticing the frightened look the knight wore upon his face, she quickly sheathed her sword and ran to his side, “You’re awake! Are you all right? How do you feel?”

Jason tried to slow his breathing and turned to see the face of the person sitting beside him. Trying to push back the horrible images still trying to haunt his memory, he focused on the woman and realized it was the face of the last person he’d seen before his dream.

“Dizzy,” he managed to utter.

“Shhhh,” she whispered as she laid him back down gently upon his pillow, “you need to rest.”

Her smile was enchanting. He closed his eyes as several medics scrambled around preparing medicine for him to take.

Finding Lockefren’s hand in his, he closed his hand around hers and softly asked, “What is your name?”

“Lockefren,” she answered.

Before falling back to sleep Jason whispered, “Thank you, Lockefren.”

She only smiled as joyful tears began to fall from her eyes.

When the giant wooden doors of the torch-lit chamber were swung open, a large figure dressed in black silken robes sitting on a throne of human and animal skeletal remains was briefly revealed. To the right of the throne laid a large animal with the head of a hyena, florescent green slits for eyes and the body of a jet-black tiger. The creature sprawled itself on the floor gnawing away at something that resembled a very large human hand.

Through the doors entered a bleeding and disgruntled Léon. His armor accentuated every step he made with a clanging that echoed in the almost empty stone room. Léon was immediately halted by only the raising of a thin-gloved hand by the dark sinister man seated on the throne. Upon this gesture, Léon promptly knelt to one knee bowing his head, so as not to meet the gaze of the figure before him.

With movements of fluidity, the figure stood up and moved toward the kneeling Léon. Léon could feel the mere presence of his master approaching him sending waves of shivers down his neck and back, but he showed no sign of fear or weakness.

The looming figure stopped in front of Léon staring down upon him with an inquisitive look on his shrouded face, “What news do you bring?”

His voice was deep and icy bearing no emotion in its tone. Léon questioned himself why he had even returned. He had nothing to offer his master but bad news.

“I bring grievous news, my lord.” Léon swallowed hard for the next thing he had to say, “My forces lost the battle and the knight still lives.”

The shadowy figure’s reaction was just as Léon feared. His master let out an inhuman howl of rage followed by a sharp kick to Léon’s ribs. He was launched across the bare throne room into one of his master’s personal bodyguards who stood on one side of the large throne room doors. Léon stood to his feet grasping his wounded side and walked over to where he had knelt before under the disapproving eyes of his master. However, he did not kneel this time; he simply stood holding his head high while his eyes were filled with anger and his face riddled with pain.

“You dare tell me of your failures?!”

The figure then hit Léon with his fist in a downward motion onto Léon’s shoulder dropping him to his knees. With eyes now glowing red, Léon flipped his hair out of his face and stood back to his feet in complete defiance.

“I am no coward! I fear nothing, not even you. I came only to inform you that the knight still lives and the kingdom stands.”

The shadowy figure wildly stared into Léon’s eyes with his own eyes glowing an intense shade of molten orange. Léon knew he had never seen his master this angry. He began to rethink his earlier lack of respect towards his master. Concentrating now on returning his own eyes to their normal color of gray, Léon stayed on his feet, but lowered his head to avoid the menacing gaze of his master’s still glowing orange eyes.

“I am sorry, Master. I failed to see the importance of the death of the knight or I would not have returned until it was finished.”

This feeble attempt at soothing his anger put a sinister grin of satisfaction on the lips of the huge figure.

“No matter, his day will come, but I now expect penance to be paid for your insufferable failure.”

Relief fell upon Léon, even at this news of a penance, when he noticed his master’s eyes had gone back to their normal color of clear white.

“Lord Canoes, I will do anything to merit myself back into your good graces.”

Canoes turned and looked at his subordinate with uncaring eyes, “Good graces? I have none. But it will at least put you back in your place like a good little worker.”

Léon grit his teeth underneath his lips holding back his own anger, so as not to rekindle his master’s. He knew quite well his master had pulled his last punch. Canoes turned again and walked away from his student toward his throne, but stopped on the middle step. Sinisterly he slowly looked over his right shoulder back at Léon.

“How old are the children of our pretty little queen of Talkain?”

Léon raised an eyebrow, not sure exactly where his master was going with his question.

“I believe the boy is fourteen and the girl is twelve, my lord.”

Canoes nodded in recognition, “Then you have five years in the Pit to think of a way to defeat your friend ‘The Knight’ and deliver the kingdom into my hands.”

With a motion of his hand three guards grabbed Léon dragging him away to the dreaded Pit.

“I will not go like this!” Léon yelled as he shrugged off the guards. “I can walk!”

Canoes grinned and nodded in agreement to his request. The clang of his spurs echoed through the chamber as Léon walked out the door alone. Canoes turned back to his throne, his smile now long gone, watching Léon leave the room. Sitting down again he called out uncaringly to an unseen visitor hiding in the shadows.

“You may come out now Baylor. Léon has left. You are safe.”

A smaller figure slowly emerged from the shadows. He was covered from head to toe in his robes of red encrusted with symbols. With his hood up you could only see his blond and rust colored beard, but underneath he nervously gazed out with two beady brown eyes. Baylor pulled down his hood exposing his shoulder length hair that matched his beard.

“I’m not afraid of Léon. Why should I be afraid…”

Canoes interrupted Baylor’s lying statement with a chuckle, “If I were you I’d be afraid of everyone! Especially of someone who continually beat me down every time I opened my mouth.”

Lying again, Baylor shook his head holding it high with pride, “I fear no man or beast and he has never beaten me down.”

“Enough, Baylor! Your unmerited pride is mildly amusing, but highly annoying,” Canoes retorted.

Baylor lowered his head in shame of his lies. He knew his lord, Canoes, was quite aware of his fear of Léon, and fighting of any kind for that matter. Slouching in his chair, Canoes placed his hand upon his chin assessing the recently lost battle and the problems that were to occur as a result. Baylor slinked up next to his master and slowly bent down to whisper into his ear a question he didn’t want prying ears to overhear.

“My lord, I was wondering, will Léon actually stay in the Pit for all five years?”

Canoes was slightly amused at the enthusiasm in Baylor’s voice, bringing a sinister grin to his lips.

“My brave Baylor, Léon would do a hundred years in the Pit for me if I so wished it. His undying loyalty to me is like no other.”

“I too dedicate my life to you and no other my master!” Baylor exclaimed while quickly lowering to one knee and grabbing the hand of Canoes.

The grin left his face and was replaced with a look of disgust as Canoes quickly retrieved his hand from Baylor. With ferocious speed Canoes raised his foot to meet with Baylor’s face throwing him several feet across the room unto the cold hard floor. The guards began to assist the councilor to his feet, but were halted by Canoes who was, once again, adorning an evil grin. He rose from his seat and strode over to Baylor who was crawling away cowering from the menacing presence of his nearing master.

“Ahh Baylor, I love having a dog to kick around, but right now I am not in the mood for your foolish acts of bravado.” Canoes was now circling around Baylor as he spoke. “Do not try and capture my favor with your declaring of loyalty and such for you will never have it.”

Not having an inkling of courage in his body, Baylor began to lose control of his bladder on the floor where he was crouched down on all fours. Canoes chuckled again walking back to his throne of bones. He signaled for his guards to pick Baylor up from off the ground. Slowly, and with a slight warning in his voice, Canoes gave his last orders.

“Now Baylor, all I need for you to do is bring back the corpses of the fallen creatures so I can make myself a new army.”