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
Randey ducked, the blade slicing the air just above him. He spun, swinging his own sword in an arc toward his opponent’s midsection. His blow missed as his target nimbly moved back, raising his weapon in both hands. Randey straightened, panting heavily as he raised his own. The two swung at one another, the clash of their blades ringing loudly. Before Randey could recover for a second swing, his opponent dealt him a hard blow to the ribs with his elbow, and Randey went down on his back. He stared up, lifting his blade, but the other’s sword tip was at his throat. For a long moment he remained frozen, trying to regain his breath. His opponent smiled. “I yield,” said Randey. The Blade Master stood over him, saying, “As well you should.” He moved his sword and offered Randey his free hand. As he lifted him to his feet, he went on, “You still have much to learn, but in truth you are a talented fighter, Randey Edal.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. Randey accepted the prais
“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
The Dragons The Elders: Neyalha – (Nay-ALL-a) Gheyaral – (GAY-arall) The Guardians: Nayara – (Nay-AHR-ah) Ghaeron – (GHER-on) The Inhabitants of Edon The King and Queen Emerik (EH-merik) and Adalyn (AD-alin) The Grenyaar – (GREN-yahr) (The Black Knights) Sira – (SUR-ah) – Title for female Knights Sir Randey Edal – (Randy EE-dal) Captain Reidar Edal – (RIE-dar EE-dal) Sira Damara Edal – (Dam-AR-a EE-dal) Sir Braedon Soril – (BRAY-don SO-ril) Blade Master Kolton Stent – (KOLL-ton Stent) First Commander Storr Raegos – (Store RAY-gos) Sir Kale Andros – (Kale AN-drose) Sir Owin Jasir – (Owen JA-seer) Sira Torila – (Tor-ILL-ah) Sira Andreya – (An-DRAY-ah) Sir Andric – (AN-drik) Sir Garath – (GAR-ath) Sir Devlyn – (DEV-lin) Sir Milos – (MEE-los) Sir Garett – (GAR-ett) The Na’Himara – (Nah-Him-AR-ah) (The Sorceresses) Founder: Keyalla – (Kay-AL-ah) Maajira (Mah-JEE-rah): Vedila – (Ve-DEE-lah) Keyla – (Kaylah) Breya – (Braya) Ciara – (SEE-arah) Luceya –
Randey winced in pain. When the Guardian had appeared to engage the huge beasts soaring above, he had felt hope renew within him. It was dulled when he realized that Ghaeron was alone. He hesitated to think what could have prevented Nayara from joining her brother. The brief battle in the sky had been nerve-wracking, though he and Furgus had both quietly cheered when one of the beasts lost its head to Ghaeron’s attack. It was heartbreaking when the remaining two had gone after the Dragon, and more so when Ghaeron had fled. Randey doubted that it had been cowardice. It was not in a Dragon’s nature to feel such a thing. No doubt the Guardian had fled due to the injuries inflicted upon him. That in itself was exceedingly troubling. Never before had there been any creatures that could challenge the strength of a Dragon. And yet these had. Randey’s spirits sank as a dark despair crept over him. The situation had become dire indeed. With some difficulty he pushed that melancholy aside,
Taiya frowned as she walked across the grounds of the Citadel. She had caught a hint of movement in the woods beyond, and her Elven senses raised a feeling of unease. She couldn’t say why. Things had been proceeding with relative smoothness following the death of the Maajira. A group of thirty experienced Sorceresses had been sent off to join in the defense of Chulakh two days prior, and those remaining at the Citadel continued their own preparations for the coming conflict. Taiya had been tempted to accompany them, for she was eager to aid in the battle, but she had promised to remain and aid Ciara in her research. Ciara had yet to find a viable antidote to the small creatures’ venom, even with Taiya’s assistance. However, she believed she would find the solution before long. She spent virtually every waking minute in her laborium poring over the problem. Taiya had been assisting her, but had decided that she wished to take a walk. The Jivanaar preferred open spaces to confinement
Captain Devlyn was weary. The battle at Chulakh may have been small as battles go, but any battle was wearying to the body and spirit. Being a sworn Black Knight meant that he was willing and ready to engage in such battles, to defend the realm, but it did not lessen the physical and emotional toll fighting had upon all men. His Company – minus the fourteen good Knights he’d lost to the Goblins and those cursed flying things – was the first to be ordered back to the Hall of Champions. Captain Ellard, the Knight commanding the forces sent to Chulakh, had taken charge of the cleanup and aid, with more than enough remaining Knights for the job. Two Companies, along with the survivors of the fourth that had been sent to Chulakh. Ellard was anxious to get word back to the First Commander that the battle had been won. A messenger bird had been dispatched, but Devlyn and his men could provide important details to the Commander. In truth, Devlyn was glad to be returning to the Hall. It was
Ghaeron roared in fury. Circling above the city of Chulakh, he and Nayara saw the Goblin forces marching toward the high walls. A garrison of Black Knights had mustered atop the wall, watching over the parapet as the Goblins approached. A company of archers prepared their bows, placing themselves in the crenellations to take aim. The Guardians were glad to see the city’s defenses rallied so efficiently. There were more Knights on the way, marching from the South shortly after Randey and Keyla had departed, as well as Companies from the East. The Guardians had stopped at the Citadel on their way North, urging the Na’Himara to gather their forces also and ride to Chulakh. They, too, should arrive shortly, but it was clear that the Goblins would have the first strike. Marching ahead of the Goblin host was a line of ten Alva’himar. There were also more of the robed figures marching on either side, as well as ten more behind, effectively creating a loose rectangle surrounding the army.
Ghaeron roared in frustration. Nayara, gliding at his side, glanced at him in understanding. She was feeling frustrated as well. They were sweeping above the Ramash Mountains, for the fourth time trying to locate the stronghold of the Alva’himar. It should have been simple, given that Dragons have excellent geographical recall, in addition to their mystical instincts. Ghaeron had been sure of the location when he’d glimpsed the dark structure, but every time he and his sister flew low across that region of the mountains it was as if they had never been there before. Nothing was familiar, and they could have been over any part of the range for all their senses told them. They had even made a few passes while flaming, but nothing was revealed beyond scorched trees, earth, and rock. The Guardians knew that Dark Magic was at work. The fortress was there. Of that they were certain. But so long as their instincts and mystical senses were being confounded, it had become an exercise in futi
Kamryn was walking from Ciara’s laborium, across the lawn toward the Citadel proper when she saw the rider appear at the entry through the low fence. At first she was surprised, for the rider was garbed as a Grenyaar. It took only a moment for her to realize that the visitor was in fact a woman. Despite her short hair, her features were soft and pleasant. She passed through the entry casually, which also reaffirmed her gender. There were mystical safeguards in place that would have assailed her had she been a man. She stepped over to greet the new arrival. “Greetings, Knight!” she said, with a reverent bow. “I am Kamryn. How may I serve you?” “I am Sira Andreya. I wish to see the Maajira. It is urgent.” As it was only mid-afternoon Kamryn saw no problem with that. She urged Andreya to dismount, calling over one of the girls from the stables to take care of her horse. She then escorted the Knight into the Citadel. Andreya looked around with interest as they passed through the large
“Master Kolton?” Kolton looked up from the blade he was polishing. “Yes, Sir Kale?” “I’m concerned about Sir Randey.” The Blade Master nodded. “I understand. And your concern for your fellow Knight is admirable.” “Thank you, Master, but what can we do to help him?” Kolton examined the Khortaal he held, watching the light glint from the polished metal. Satisfied, he slid it back into its sheath. He looked up at Kale. “Nothing.” Kale frowned. “Nothing?” Kolton nodded. “Surely, Master, there is something we can do,” said Kale, his voice growing hard. Kolton sighed. He truly did understand what young Kale was feeling, and his desire to help his friend. However, Kolton had the advantage of age and experience. He’d seen more than a few young Knights have to deal with that which Sir Randey was now wrestling. The feelings of guilt and loss, grief and anger; they were all perfectly normal and expected. How he dealt with them would ultimately show his character both as a man and a Blac