“King Emerik!” Sir Andric’s voice echoed in the Throne Room as the Knight hurriedly approached. Light from the large skylight above illuminated the area surrounding the thrones with an almost mystical glow. King Emerik and Queen Adalyn paused, having just stepped down from the high seats. The room was mostly empty, as the last of the petitioners and Lords had been dismissed shortly before. Only a pair of guards remained, posted on either side of the large entry doors, and a pair of Pages lingered outside of the side entry near the thrones. The royal couple paused at Andric’s call, turning to face him as he approached and knelt. “Majesty,” he said, then nodded to Adalyn. “Your Grace.” “What is it, Sir Andric?” asked Emerik. Sir Andric rose, wearing an expression of anxiety. “I bring grim news, Majesty. The Citadel has been taken.” “What?” Emerik looked from Andric to Adalyn, who wore a similar expression of surprise. “How? By who, Knight?” “The Alva’himar, Majesty. It would app
It began with Dragons. In the deep, endless void of the cosmos, before time existed and all was naught but swirling gasses and cosmic energy; from the complexity of this wondrous collection a consciousness arose. Infinite yet indefinable, it sought to bring some order to the chaos of its being. For reasons no mortal can comprehend, utilizing the substance and energy of the cosmos itself, life was brought into the universe in the form of Dragons. Formed from the essence of the stars, and the primordial matter and energy that is at the heart of all life. Giant beings, there were only two in this beginning of time. As the essence of existence has two components, opposite yet complementary to one another, so were the Dragons made male and female, in order to maintain the balance that holds the fabric of reality together. Equal and opposite, yet incomplete without the other. An integral component of the emerging cosmos was the formation of planets. Worlds where the magnificent variety o
Randey ran through the forest, uncomfortably aware that he was late. He was not allowed out after sundown. On most occasions, he had no difficulty obeying that restriction, but on this day he had gotten distracted and lost track of time. His mother would be upset with him, that much was sure, but in truth he didn’t regret his tardiness, nor the reason for it. He had spent the better part of the day hiking up the mountain trail not far from their home, to a spot atop the cliffs that comprised the walls of the Haedral Valley. It was a place that offered a spectacular view, with the distant valley floor and the magnificent cliffs opposite, bathed in sunlight and rich with the many colors of greens, golds, and browns of the trees and shrubbery, as well as the rock faces themselves. Randey felt it was possibly the most beautiful place in all the world. Certainly in the realm of Eyrdal. Much of his fascination with the place went beyond its sheer beauty. There was a rich history there, an
Randey woke with a start. His thoughts still held the lingering haze of a nightmare, though specific images eluded him now. He could recall only impressions of Goblins and other cruel, inhuman creatures, and that he and his family were threatened. Blinking to clear his vision, he focused on the reality of the room around him. Morning light warmed the space, while the familiar scents added to his sense of security and calm. Still, the dream was troubling. Clambering out of bed, he rapidly dressed. An urgent desire to see his mother drove him, and he nearly tripped on his way down the stairs. Damara greeted him with a warm smile. She was dressed in a simple house dress, her hair still ruffled from sleep, her feet bare. To Randey she appeared somehow vulnerable, despite the fact that he knew she was a more than capable fighter. She would not have been accepted into the ranks of the Grenyaar were it otherwise. He smiled at her in return. “Sit,” she said, “and I’ll bring you some break
“You’re joking,” said Randey. Sir Braedon glanced at him as he put another piece of wood on their fire. “Not at all.” “A Mountain Troll? ” Randey’s disbelief was plain. He glanced over to where the bulky form of Kolton Stent stood near the horses, getting them settled for the night. Sir Braedon had been telling him about their companion. The Blade Master had a most colorful past, if the tales were to be believed. Braedon gestured in that direction. “Kolton Stent is possibly the greatest warrior of the Black Knights.” He saw Randey frown, and added, “Your father was a great Knight as well, second only to the Master. It was Kolton who trained him, after all.” Randey looked at the Master again, taking in Sir Braedon’s words. They had the ring of truth, and it was obvious that the Master was a powerful man. Still . . . A Mountain Troll? Randey had a hard time believing that even so powerful a man as Kolton Stent could defeat such a massive and fearsome creature. If they even existe
Eodur was a disappointment. Randey had assumed that a village so close to the Capital would be more grand. The homes more stylish, the people sophisticated. It appeared to him, however, to be little different from his home village of Ghaeros. The homes were well kept, that was true, but were no fancier than many of the ones back home. There were a few he saw that were similar to his own, larger and sturdier, and he supposed that they, too, were home to Grenyaar who lived here. He had to admit that the local Inn was more than he had expected. It was a sturdy, three-story structure with a decorative stone wall at the base and colorful tiles on the roof. A stable boy of about Randey’s age guided their horses to the stables as Randey accompanied the Knights inside. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, but he found himself in a large Great Room, with polished wood panels on the walls and decorative lanterns hanging from wrought iron hooks providing light. There were a doz
The two Grenyaar blinked in surprise. Master Kolton looked from Randey to the Dragon’s huge, black head, Ghaeron’s ruby-red eyes shining. King Emerik and Queen Adalyn exchanged a look, but it was unreadable. Sir Braedon looked down at Randey, who was staring wide-eyed at Ghaeron. “I . . .” Randey stammered, “I – don’t understand. What war? How? What . . . what do you mean I am -” He swallowed. “I am the best hope ?” “Ambrose,” said the King, addressing the steward. “Have a chair brought for our guest. I fear the lad may collapse where he stands.” Ambrose bowed and quickly vanished through the side door. A moment later a servant appeared carrying a small wooden chair, placing it beside the stunned boy. Emerik smiled at him. “Please, Randey, sit down. Before you fall down.” Randey nodded absently, plopping into the seat while still staring up at the Dragon. The Knights remained standing on either side of him, eager to hear what the Guardian had to say. Ghaeron’s deep, draconic voice
Sir Andric reined in his mount. Before him lay a wide plain, with forest beyond. The jagged line of the Ohresh Mountains cut across the sky beyond the forest, the slopes covered with the green extension of the forest. Not so imposing as the Erimanthe range, but ruggedly beautiful regardless. He took a moment to have a drink from his water skin, patting his horse’s neck appreciatively. “Not far now, Kyran.” He slung the skin back over the saddle and urged Kyran forward. The stallion moved briskly, eager to cross the plain and reach the forest. Andric kept him from going too fast; he didn’t wish to give the appearance of hostility, despite their need for alacrity. They had crossed the borders of the known lands of the Minotaurs the day before. So far they had yet to encounter any of the unusual beings, but Andric had no way to know if that was unusual. No Grenyaar had ventured to their lands for nearly a century. Sir Andric kept an eye out for any signs of habitation. Any community req