Keyla’s memory of her arrival at the Citadel was etched into her mind. After the harrowing few days spent on the run with her grandmother, it had been a haven unlike anything she had expected. Her grandmother’s endurance and skill had been remarkable, far beyond what she had expected. She had always considered her the quiet, gentle old woman who taught her some basic understanding of magic. Clearly there was much more to her than that. Their reception at the Citadel had proven as much. When they stumbled onto the grounds surrounding it, a small group of young women were working a vegetable garden just outside the low wall. They were very concerned about Keyla, given her age and travel-worn appearance, and gave equal attention to the elderly woman with her. Once they were assured that neither had suffered any injury, they escorted them to the Citadel. Keyla gazed at it with wide eyes. The structure was larger than she had imagined. A castle, really, with shimmering white marble wall
The First Commander put down the message scroll, frowning. Kolton asked, “Is there a problem, Commander?” Storr shook his head. He glanced over at his guests. Luceya and Keyla sat in a pair of chairs facing his desk, their expressions neutral. “The Maajira is certain of this?” Luceya nodded. “She would not have sent any message of which she was not certain.” “Why?” asked Randey. “What is it?” Keyla glanced at him, offering a hint of a smile. He appreciated it, but he still wasn’t sure what he was doing in the meeting. The morning following the Knighthood ceremony, the First Commander had met with Luceya and they called for this meeting later in the day. It was fortunate that it was later in the day, for Randey’s head was still pounding from the previous afternoon’s revels. They had lasted well into the evening, and the newly-Knighted Grenyaar had indulged in the supply of ale and other strong drink far more than he had intended. He recalled laughing with Keyla as well as his frien
Randey slapped his horse’s neck affectionately. He had finished unsaddling the fine mare as he and his companions prepared their camp for the night. Flyta was one of the Grenyaar’s finest horses, and Randey was honored to have been given the privilege of riding her. She snorted happily as he patted her, then he stepped over to join the others at their small fire. It seemed odd somehow to be without Master Kolton’s company. The Blade Master was needed at the Hall, however, and having been Knighted Randey was deemed competent to lead the small envoy group to contact the Dwarves. The responsibility weighed upon him, but only in that he did not wish to disappoint the Master or the First Commander. Nor himself, for that matter; he felt a desire to prove himself, and continue to uphold the honor of the Edal line. With a quiet whuff he sat on the log they had dragged over beside their fire. Kale was already seated and gnawing on a piece of jerky, as Owin finished with his own mount and jo
Keyla reined in her mount. The beautiful mare, Ziara by name, was well suited to her. Keyla had taken to riding quite readily, and very much enjoyed being on horseback. The sisters at the Citadel were given training in basic riding skills, but Keyla had spent as much time as she could honing those skills, mostly because she enjoyed being around the horses. When she had requested Ziara as her mount for their journey to the Hall of Champions, the Maajira could see no reason to decline. Now she sat happily astride the even-tempered animal, gazing at the plains that lay before her. Luceya sat her own mount beside her, both Sorceresses contemplating the journey ahead. The Guardians’ message had been quite clear, and the prospect of seeking out the Jivanaar was exciting. Their lands lay to the East, past the northeastern tip of the Haedral Mountains. The two Na’Himara had spent the last ten days riding through the hilly countryside North of those mountains, taking what roads were available
Randey groaned. He hurt all over. Blinking, he was aware of dim light, but he was still trying to get his bearings. The last thing he remembered was the ground falling out from beneath him, and the cries of himself and his companions as they dropped. It seemed they had tumbled for a fair distance on a relatively smooth slope. Thudding against one another, weapons and armor clanging, they had finally come to a stop here. Wherever “here” was. The low light revealed details reluctantly, and he had yet to identify the source, but it appeared they were in a small stone chamber. It smelled stale and somewhat fetid. To his dismay, he thought he could just make out what appeared to be a jumbled pile of bones against the wall to the right. That did not bode well. A moan to his left told him Kale lay there. His leg felt pinned, and he glanced down to see the dim form of Owin lying across it. The young Knight stirred, slowly moving off of Randey’s leg, saying, “What happened?” A deeper groan e
Gerth was angry. It was not an uncommon state of mind for a Goblin, as they were usually angry about something. What angered Gerth at this particular time was his own gnawing impatience. And a growing animosity toward their leader. The Goblin tribes had welcomed the enigmatic stranger, primarily because she had promised them power and conquest. Initial doubts had been vanquished when the magic user had demonstrated considerable talent in the Art, and promised that such powerful magic would be used to aid the Goblins in their invasion. So the tribes had eagerly cooperated when the first assaults had been ordered. Some among the tribal elders had been wary; they were still outnumbered by the humans, and the Grenyaar had always proved to be a formidable foe. Which was why they had decided to attack their Hall, in the hope of defeating as many as possible and killing their leader. It would have been demoralizing to the Black Knights, as well as a boost to the tribes’ efforts. That had go
Sira Torila urged her mount to greater speed. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she was dismayed to see that her pursuers were gaining on her. A grunt of desperate frustration escaped her lips as she scanned the area ahead for any possible avenue of escape. She was far yet from the Haedral Valley, and the open land she traversed lay in the shadow of the ominous crags of the Ramash Mountains looming behind her. That high, western range was the largest in the realm, and much of it unexplored due to the harshness of the landscape. It was known, however, to be home to most of the Goblin tribes that plagued the land. Torila felt her anxiety rising as it became clear there were no hiding places, no alternate routes she could take to elude those in pursuit. But she had to! The information she had was vital, and the First Commander had to receive it. She gritted her teeth, leaning low in her saddle as she raced toward the still-distant mouth of the valley. The foothills seemed infinitely f
“Acheya.” Acheya recognized the Raamija’s voice immediately, though she couldn’t imagine why she would have come to her. The Master Sorceress had only visited this place once before, and that had been shortly after their arrival in these rugged mountains. Acheya had the impression that the Raamija had a genuine disdain for the caves. It mattered not, that was her business. Acheya was more than content to do her work without constant supervision. Up until now, she had no reason to doubt that her efforts had been anything less than effective. So why was Sapha visiting her now? Straightening in her chair, she said, “I am here, Raamija.” Sapha stepped quietly into the rough-hewn room to stand across from the desk. The glowing crystals that illuminated the space were not of the brightest variety; Acheya’s work called for her to work in dim places, and she kept her own space less bright as well. Even in the dim light, Sapha was imposing. Her bearing was enough to reveal supreme confidenc