Chapter 5 Chapter 7

- Chapter 6: Cavern -

A loud banging startled Keir from his dreams. Instinctively, he reached for his knife before realizing someone was merely knocking on the door. Black Muraga growled groggily. The two hurriedly slipped into their robes before the knight opened the door while Keir ran his hands through his disheveled hair and opened the lid of a kolbalamp.

In strode their tailors with newly-sewn garments. Soon Keir was slipping into a gray silk doublet and wine red hose, the elegant style that of the zhorun caste, according to one tailor. He glanced at Black Muraga admiring his new silver-trimmed blue doublet and hose the color of a deep mountain lake.

As they dressed, a pair of old, bald Brimulung cooks carried in their breakfast, their thick, forked white beards disappearing into their breeches. The Lebecians were served meatrolls and freshly baked berry bread with mountain stream water to wash it down. Then a large metal pot of boiling water was set before them. One of the old cooks croaked, "These you must et quickly, me good lads, 'fore they 'arden." Grabbing a pair of tongs, he jabbed a thick finger at Black Muraga and said, "Older one first."

The Brimuli thrust the tongs into the pot and yanked out a clear, fruit-like object the size of a plump blitheberry. Black Muraga's eyes lit up with astonished excitement and the old Brimuli popped it into the knight's eager mouth.

"Mmmm! Delicious! Absolutely fantastic!" Black Muraga gurgled between chews, his face beaming. "It's been far too long since I had one of these. I'd forgotten how exquisite they taste!"

The cook gave a crooked, partly toothless grin to Keir. "Is young one ready now?"

"Oh yes, please sir," said Keir anxiously, mouth opened wide for the mysterious fruit. The old Brimuli stuck the tongs back in and yanked another out of the boiling water. Keir bit through the surprisingly cool, tough skin. Sweet, refreshing minty juice squirted, running soothingly down his throat. He became so indulged in the fruit that he failed to notice the cooks leave until after he finished.

"No more, Black Muraga? I could have eaten ten of those! What were they?"

"Those were living diamonds, boy. Very delicious but, as I understand, very hard to acquire also. They are the rarest of living gems and also the sweetest. To receive one is a sign of great honor."

"Who, me? Why should I be honored?"

Before Black Muraga could answer, someone pounded loudly on the door, which Keir opened this time. The soldier patiently standing there bowed and said, "Your presence at the palace gates has been requested by Zhorun Brabin and Zhorun Brobin. Shall I escort you?"

When they reached the palace gates, the soldier pointed towards the twins chatting with two pretty young Brimulung ladies. The twins were easy to spot, towering over the other blue-tinged Brimulung milling about the gates, and their booming "brotherly" jabber easy to hear even from this distance. Brabin noticed them and waved the two men over. As they approached, Keir observed that the twins had donned brightly colored tunics, pantaloons and sashes, and that Brobin now wore a red, jewel-encrusted eyepatch. Black Muraga muttered something about "overt gaudiness."

Meanwhile, Brobin had wrapped an arm around the shoulder of each girl.

"My sweet lovebirds," he cooed, "I hope you will excuse us but we are obliged to entreat our visitors to a tour of the lower levels of our fair city and of the sacred Cavern of the Living Jewels." The girls giggled and left, but not without a few lingering kisses.

Smiling, Brobin turned to Keir and Black Muraga. "Shall we?" he asked in his usual polite manner.

"By all means, good sirs," replied Black Muraga courteously.

Brabin grabbed Keir's elbow, guiding him through the gates. With a glance back over his shoulder at the girls and a last wave of his hand, he said, "Are not women the Most High's greatest creation?"

"Uhm, I...I guess so," stammered Keir. His cheeks flushed faintly.

"Their grace, their beauty," said Brabin grandly.

"Their soft eyes, their gentle touch," added Brobin.

"Their passionate kisses and warm bodies." Keir's ears and neck burned.

"And so many of them lonely on those long winter nights."

"And with only the two of us to umpf!" Brabin grunted as Black Muraga elbowed his stomach.

"By the look on the boy's face," said the knight, "You're talking about things he shouldn't know until he gets married! Now, why don't you tell me about this fancy house here."

"Most certainly," said Brobin with a broad wink and a smirk. "This house is owned by Zhorun Geg, a merchant who, of course, is better known for his seven beautiful daughters, the tales of whom could fill the king's library, may his beard grow ever longer."

As Brobin rambled on about Geg and his seven daughters, Keir wiped dry his brow. I don't know whether I should thank Black Muraga or curse him, he thought. It sure would be nice to find out how the twins handle women.

They spent a couple hours leisurely wandering through Alusia, gazing at the beautiful homes of the zhorun caste, and then browsing among the third level shops. Keir glanced over his shoulder often, eying the crowd suspiciously, but he could neither see nor sense anything evil.

Keir enjoyed the twins' amiable company. They not only seemed to know all the pretty young female Brimulung, they were also intelligent and entertaining characters who lived for the present.

"We've seen enough war," Brabin told him, "To realize that life can end at any moment, no matter how mighty one is. So we dwell little on the past and hope not of the future."

"Yes," added Brobin, "To quote one of our more famous poets, 'Who knows the future but the prophets' end that is always near.'"

As they left the city, Keir spotted a couple of stablehands casually holding the reins of four ponies. One of the young Brimulung noticed the twins, poked his partner in the ribs, and both jumped to attention

Brabin sauntered over, flipped them each a couple of small coins, and returned with the ponies.

As they mounted, he said, "We think it much easier to ride ponies down to the Cavern than to bother walking, don't we, Brobin?"

"My yes, what with all those pilgrims and delvers and crafters crowding the tunnels, you're right once again, Brabin."

Black Muraga growled. Quickly, the twins hushed, rolling their eyes, and they all settled down onto their saddles.

They passed many side shafts on the long ride down to the Cavern. Out of these occasional delvers, alone or in groups, would exit. Some carried bulging bags or pushed wheelbarrows heaped full of dirt and ore; others emerged with empty sacks. Bluish-white light flared often in many of the passages, usually accompanied by lusty singing. Often they rode past crafters sculpting heroic deeds on the walls or deftly shaping borders of intricate swirls and mythical beasts. Keir wanted to pause and admire the beautiful, meticulous detail of each work, but the twins set a stiff pace, telling him he'd have to come back when he had more time. They couldn't afford to dawdle as well as visit the Cavern and still make it back in time for tonight's feast. The twins did promise him, however, that the Cavern would more than make up for all the other sights they bypassed.

They also crossed paths with the many Brimulung pilgrims Brobin had mentioned. Most of the brown-robed pilgrims, Keir learned, were from distant Brimulung nations in the south. Brabin explained to him the legend of the sacred Cavern.

"It was the Year 5445. Our people had been slaves of the Torgs and their Ytrekan Empire for nearly five centuries. Long we wielded our light for them, forced to recklessly open new shafts and destroy our homeland in search of gold and other precious metals.

"One day, a delver named Dwibrin was alone searching for a new vein in an old abandoned shaft when he discovered a crack never before known to exist. Creeping through, he came upon the Cavern of the Living Jewels. Never in his life had he seen such beauty.

"Even more astonishing, however, was that in the center of the cavern stood a throne made entirely of ruby. And seated on the throne was Lord Rhen himself, with a great axe by his side."

"Who's Lord Rhen?" inquired Keir.

"Who's Lord Rhen?" Brabin seemed astonished and Keir's face flushed. "Why, Lord Rhen is the God of Balance, the God of what your kind calls the Red Magic!"

"The Red Magic?" Keir asked incredulously. "Is there really such a magic?"

"You don't know of the Red Magic?" When Keir shook his head, Brobin slapped his forehead in amazement while Brabin bowed his head and covered his eyes.

"What a young innocent we have here!" cried Brobin.

"Truly, my good brother, that we do!" agreed Brabin. He spread his arms wide. "Ahh, the possibilities are endless, are they not?"

Black Muraga raised a hand. "Back to the story, Brabin. Otherwise the boy will never learn."

Brabin gave Black Muraga a pretended sorrowful look. "Very well. Keir, you know of the White and Black Magics?"

"Yes?"

"Well, the Red Magic is that which maintains a balance between the two and assures that, until Evesthar himself returns to the Lands of the East, neither the White nor the Black shall become more puissant than the other. Anyway, Lord Rhen said to Dwibrin, who had thrown himself prostrate, 'Rise up, Dwibrin, for thou hast been chosen by the Most High to lead the Brimulung of Cathoagha out of their oppression.'

"Then Dwibrin said, 'I thank thee, Lord Rhen of the Red Magic. But by what sign shalt thy servant lead them?'

"Lord Rhen responded, 'Thou shalt have not one sign, but two. The first shalt be this cavern, which shalt henceforth be a sacred and holy place. The second shalt be this axe, for it is the Axe of Urdalan. Long has it defended the Gate of the Red Magic in Urdalan and now it shalt defend Cathoagha against thine enemies.' With that, Lord Rhen handed Dwibrin a great battleaxe, its haft encrusted with rubies. 'Go now, and raise high the name of Evesthar, the god of thy salvation.'

"And Dwibrin went forth and led our people to a glorious victory over the Torgs, becoming the first king of the Restoration, while the Cavern of the Living Jewels was established as our place of worship of the Most High. There the Axe of Urdalan now rests where Lord Rhen spoke with Dwibrin as a reminder of the Most High's benevolence." Brabin bowed his head prayerfully as he finished his tale.

They rode a bit farther in silence, each cowled in his own thoughts. Keir mulled over what the Brimuli had said.

That story's so similar to mine. It's nice to know that, at least in legend, the gods give so much aid to those who need it. Oh I hope Brabin's tale is true.

Soon, a soft whisper broke Keir's meditation. Lifting his head, he saw that the road ended abruptly, save for the dark entrance to a mine on the left. A solitary golden kolbalamp dimly illuminated the tunnel's end.

"Quietly now," said Brabin, "dismount and tie your ponies here." The Brimuli gestured towards a nearby rail. As the youth turned from his horse, Brabin grabbed his arm, pulling his head down close. "Once we reach the Cavern, do not speak except in prayer. The pilgrims will think you blaspheme the Most High and Lord Rhen." Keir nodded as the twins guided them into the tunnel.

At first, he feared they'd be walking through blind darkness as the light faded, but the passage turned and an amethyst kolbalamp flickered dim violet shadows on the rough-hewn walls. Immediately, he sensed a supernatural presence growing stronger with every step, filling him with awe. A slight vibration in the air accompanied it, making the amethyst seem to flicker. As the passage twisted and descended, the kolbalight changed from amethyst to sapphire to emerald to topaz and finally to diamond. The sense of presence also grew stronger as the vibration multiplied. It could almost be heard, a faint tingling in his ears seeming to carry overtones like wind chimes.

Eventually, the tunnel straightened and at the end a brightly lit cavern shone. As they entered, Keir was overwhelmed not by the beauty of seeing living jewels pulsing with light, but by the realization that the supernatural presence he felt was the life existing in these jewels. They seemed to radiate an unusual peace, a joy in being alive.

He closed his eyes.

Here the vibration added an ethereal quality, its overtones creating an elusive music that he could not hear as much as feel.

How beautiful this music is, he thought. It's like the gems are singing of their delight. If the gods themselves had formed a choir, they could never have matched the sublime grace of these jewels.

After a time, his eyes opened and he gaped at the spacious cavern. A garden of light blossomed before him. Row after row of living jewels gleamed brightly, their light undiminished by any kolbalamp and each gem beating an individual cadence. It was like a flower garden save that they grew not only in the cavern floor but in the walls as well. Pebbled paths wandered around stalagmites sculpted to look like trees with emerald leaves and diamond blossoms. Keir discovered narrow paths zig-zagging up the sides of the cavern walls, allowing the white-clothed Brimulung gardeners to maintain the jewels. He paused often to admire their handiwork as well as the sculptor's skill both in the stalagmite trees and in the cavern wall, where subtle yet incredibly intricate delving highlighted the flowering of the jewels.

On the ceiling, jewels clung to long, narrow stalactites in random disarray. What a delightful contrast, he thought. I've never imagined anything so beautiful or so refreshing.

The air itself smelled clean, like a sunny spring morning after a night of heavy rain. It was so peaceful, only the faint crunch of pebbles and the soft murmur of praying pilgrims disturbing the solitude. Memories returned of contemplative afternoons in meadows where he had only the sheep to listen to.

Eventually his casual wanderings led him to the center of the cavern where the Axe of Urdalan rested. Surrounded by a field of topaz and encased in estelgar, its blade was sunk deeply into a marble base. He kneeled in awe alongside the Brimulung pilgrims, offering a prayer of praise and thanks to Evesthar for the miracle of the Cavern.

Finally, he rose. Soon he and the others were silently striding back up the twisting tunnel. Keir felt satisfied as never before.

Now I understand why Father fought this bloodsucking Voryaki religion and why Black Muraga's joined me. Worshipping Teivos only brings discontent and violence and hatred. But there was a peace and a joy back there I've never experienced before. That is what I must bring to my people. He smiled.

They did not speak until well after mounting their ponies and then they spoke only of small, seemingly unimportant things. Occasionally they lapsed into silence as they reflected on the Cavern. Eventually, however, the twins began joking and they arrived at the palace gates in animated spirits. There an escort waited impatiently for them.

"Come with me, good sirs," said the young Brimuli, who had yet to show his first stubble. "King Glorbain, may his beard grow ever longer, and a large gathering of guests await you all at his table for the feast."

"Ahh, food," said Brobin eagerly. "My dear brother, we may now fatten ourselves to our heart's content. Come, let us dine."

"And all at our loving king's expense, may his beard grow extremely longer," exclaimed Brabin.

"Oh well said, my ever eloquent bub."

"Help!" cried Keir, laughing. "Don't you two ever stop?"

"Never," said Brobin. Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he commanded, "Lead on, squire."

*****

The great feasting hall was circular, with a high arched ceiling. Six large horseshoe-shaped tables and benches surrounded an even larger table of the same shape. Pit fires burned brightly in the center of each horseshoe. Brimulung nobles crowded the seats on the outside of the tables while servants waited on the inside. Boisterous chattering and clanking flagons made shouting necessary while hazy pipe smoke wafted throughout the hall.

On the outside of the rounded end of the central table sat King Glorbain on a golden throne. His face was thick with wrinkles but he still appeared hale and his pale iron eyes twinkled. His snow-white beard was tucked into his silver belt, the forked ends coming out at his feet. It was long indeed.

Keir spotted Ghali, Khali and Thali at a nearby table. There were two empty places between them and Doimbur and Dhorun.

"Brabin! Brobin! Over here!" yelled Ghali over the din, his hands waving frantically.

"If you'll excuse us, our friends are calling," shouted Brabin and the twins hustled to the empty bench.

Keir pulled on Black Muraga's sleeve and pointed towards King Glorbain. "Hey, look. There's room for two near the king."

"We can't sit there, boy. See, there's Orudaza and other lords. Humans never sit at the king's table. We'll have to look elsewhere for seats."

At that moment, the king clapped his hands several times until the roar subsided. Then Glorbain's herald, who stood just behind the king's right shoulder, announced in a loud voice, "All rise for Keir Jorinsson, anointed king of Lebec, and Muraga Hurglasson, war hero for both Lebecians and Brimulung." Keir blushed, startled by the laurels given them, but didn't have time to think about the significance.

All but the king rose to great the newcomers as two members of the King's Guard escorted them to the padded oak bench. Keir avoided the eyes of the nobility, feeling suddenly foolish and self-conscious. In the now-silent hall, each footstep seemed to echo like an axe hitting a headman's block. Finally they reached the bench and Glorbain rose. He raised his hands in supplication and looked up at the ceiling. Keir glanced about the hall and saw that all the other Brimulung mimicking their king, a worshipful glint in their eyes.

"O Lord Evesthar, Most High God of Vestal and of Earth," boomed Glorbain. Although the king's voice crackled with age, it carried easily throughout the hall. He prayed for a long time, the words soon droning in Keir's ears. Yet the Brimulung appeared enraptured by Glorbain's words.

Eventually, the king's voice crescendoed, ending with a, "So let it be." The other Brimulung echoed his words. Then Glorbain sat and nodded for the others to do likewise.

Immediately, servants carted out platters heaped with steaming food while others rolled kegs of ale. Cheers erupted and soon Keir was chomping on a bird thighbone.

As he ate, Keir observed the Brimulung, half-listening to the various conversations around him. After the obligatory introductions, his tablemates made little effort to include him in their talk, which suited him fine. Much of it focused on the mundane daily activities of the Brimulung while the rest centered on foreign politics, little of which interested him. Even discussions of the rapidly deteriorating relations between Glorbain and Savonna failed to keep his attention. Instead, Keir scanned the faces about him, wondering who they were, what their occupations were.

Then his eyes met those of one of the Brimuli. Immediately, Keir was seized by a momentary panic as the gray eyes held his. Fear swelled his brain, flooding out the panic. He tried to avert his gaze or move away but the Brimuli's deranged look froze him.

The Brimuli rose and slowly strode around the tables towards Keir. All the while those eyes never left the youth's, keeping him enthralled. There was hatred and death in those eyes, death that Keir could not avert, hatred that he'd sensed ever since arriving at Alusia.

Suddenly, even as the Brimuli gripped the hilt of a dagger, a finger tapped his shoulder.

"Well done, Keir," spoke a cheery, familiar voice. Instantly, his enthrallment snapped and the youth whirled. A short scrawny man in a long brown cloak stood there, his face half-hidden by a floppy hat. "I am truly glad to see that Teivos' priests failed to capture you."

"Bautista!" shouted Keir excitedly, half rising off the bench. Then he remembered the assassin just a few feet away and whirled back but the killer had disappeared.

"What is the matter?" asked Bautista.

"He was right there." Keir pointed. "He was going to kill me."

"Who are you talking about, lad?"

Keir faced the wizard again. "You didn't see him?" He sank dejectedly onto the bench as Bautista glanced worriedly at Black Muraga. The knight shrugged, his uncertainty visible.

"That's the second time this has happened. I don't like it." Black Muraga shook his head then smiled grimly. "But it's good to see you. When did you get here?"

"I arrived while you two were galavanting about this afternoon." The wizard removed his hat, revealing his gray-streaked red hair. "We shall have a private chat later so for now eat and enjoy the feast." He paused and then added sheepishly, "May I sit here with you? I am a little famished myself."

Keir nodded and everyone on the bench scooted to make room for the wizard. As Bautista ate, Keir and Black Muraga filled him in on all that had happened. The wizard nodded gravely but did not interrupt until he'd finished eating, refilled his flagon and lit his pipe.

"We will discuss this power in you later, Keir. For now, do you see that Brimuli who threatened you?"

Keir glanced about the hall but there was no sign of the deranged Brimuli.

"I'll recognize him when I see him, though. I could never forget those eyes."

"Very well. Neither of you should discuss this openly. I will speak with Glorbain directly."

At that moment the king rose and hammered the table with his fist. Immediately, all became quiet.

"Honored guests, long have we listened to the tidings and counsels of Bautista, Wearer of the Carnelian Robe. Never has he given us false information, for he is a servant of the Most High. Once more I ask that you listen, for he brings news of great import." Glorbain sat back down and nodded to Bautista.

The mage rose, clearing his throat, and bowed in the king's direction. "Dear and honorable Brimulung, may your beards grow ever longer. I bring news of sorrow out of the city of Ducor Adta-Hars where Savonna wrongfully sits on the throne of Lebec and worships Teivos, the wicked Sealord of Asjualea Lutet, as God Supreme. Long has he forced this evil religion upon his people."

"Work of Mangan," mumbled several.

"But worse," said Bautista solemnly, "He now prepares his armies for war with Cathoagha."

Gasps sprang from the astonished Brimulung. "But why?" asked one. "What have we done to arouse his anger?"

"Nothing," replied the wizard. "But he listens to the councils of Teivos' High Priest, the wicked Pranzik, who has whispered in Savonna's ears that the Brimulung do not worship the Sealord and thus does he justify his foul designs. He has secretly forsaken Lebec's traditional alliances with Cathoagha, Camanssota and the Magalian Empire, instead signing treaties with the nations of Amazai, Morughag, Anzalai, Ytreka and Asharoken. With their dark power, Savonna and his new allies plan to crush the free nations of the north."

"And when will this be?" cried an older Brimuli with a white beard longer even than Glorbain's.

"They wait for next spring, when they will have many months to siege before winter returns. Yet some allies of Savonna are pushing to attack this summer."

"But what of your anointed king?" asked the same Brimuli, angrily slamming a withered fist on the table so hard that flagons shook. "Why does he flee here to us instead of vying for Lebec's throne?" Many in the hall nodded.

"He flees not, Lord Tolbrin," said Bautista. "Evesthar has chosen him to slay the evil Teivos and end his blasphemy before he ascends his throne."

"But this lad, though no longer a boy and yet not quite a man, how could he be the one? And what of the legend of Sahnammet Geuy?"

"Surely Lord Tolbrin, eldest of all living Brimulung, surely you must remember that King Glorbain, may his beard grow ever longer, was no older than the Chosen One when he ascended the throne two and a half centuries ago. And do you remember the deeds he performed in his first few years, which were more than some of your kings ever accomplished in their entire lives? Do not, then, judge the Chosen One by his age." The wizard faced all the guests.

"As for the legend of Sahnammet Geuy, which correlates the dawn of a new Lebecian Empire with the ascension of a descendent of the ancient kings, this you shall now learn. Keir Jorinsson is a direct descendent of King Chatham, founder of Ducor Adta-Hars and the nation of Lebec more than three millennia ago, a line that went unbroken even through the Great Fall of Lebec in the Year 4854 and has continued during the grim years since."

"Bautista," asked Black Muraga, "I thought the line ended when the Ytrekan Empire captured Ducor Adta-Hars. Is that not so?"

"Nay. Though none escaped the fall of the city, one of the princes left before that war to seek adventure. To the land of Escalon he went, and there married a woman of that land. A later descendent returned and became a shepherd in the Swesadian Hills of Lebec. For fourteen hundred years the family has lived there, unaware of their heritage. And that blood ran true, for it was Jorin Fenalsson, the father of the Chosen One, who began the rebellion in Lebec."

Black Muraga furrowed his brow. "Can you prove that? Legend says that the blood of the ancient kings was somehow greater than that of ordinary men."

"Yes," agreed Lord Tolbrin. "It is said that the True Magic coursed through their veins like few others."

Bautista leaned towards Black Muraga. "The day you met Keir, he faced High Priest Pranzik. Tell us what you saw."

The knight nodded and stood, succinctly recounting the brief battle of magic. The Brimulung conferred briefly and then Lord Tolbrin called for Keir to tell of the duel. Reluctantly, Keir rose, hesitating before speaking. He'd wanted to discuss what had happened with Bautista first but instead found himself trying to articulate the sensations the magic had caused. Words came slowly and as he finished and sat down, he felt foolish for so inadequately expressing his experience. But the Brimulung seemed not to notice, as immediately the blue-skinned lords began arguing vociferously the merit of what they'd heard.

Bautista pounded the table to regain the attention of the Brimulung.

"Dear friends, hear me. Will you not agree to become allies of King Keir, though he is yet to be crowned, and aid him in the overthrow of the tyrant Savonna? I realize the argument of alliance has been brief and there has been little opportunity for discussion, let alone counter-argument, but I am sure you know how rarely members of the Grand Order beg favors, and this is such an occasion."

King Glorbain stood, his shoulders still broad despite his age, and proclaimed, "Mage, you have no need for excuses with me. I have no reason to doubt that what you and the Lebecians have said is sooth. Indeed, there is no need for further rhetoric." The king glanced about the room. "Are there any here who, for whatever reason, would reject a pact with Keir Jorinsson, anointed king of Lebec, the Chosen One of the Most High?" He paused and hearing no dissension, said, "Then are we agreed in the dissolution of our treaty with Savonna Mangisson and the formation of a new treaty recognizing Keir Jorinsson as king of Lebec?"

The lords responded with a resounding, "Aye!" Keir noted that even Lord Tolbrin supported the decision.

King Glorbain then faced Keir. "Verily I pledge all aid possible to the Chosen One of Evesthar and ally with him in ending the wickedness of the worshippers of Teivos. Will the Chosen One accept?"

Keir glanced at Bautista and Black Muraga in confusion. The wizard raised his eyebrows questioningly. Keir breathed deeply as he turned back to the king. "I guess so," he mumbled.

The king nodded, winking at him, and clasped his hand. "Good. It is well before my sons and me," said Glorbain, using the traditional Brimulung phrase that meant that his promise was unconditional.

Bautista rose once more and laid his hands on their shoulders. "Then, in the eyes of Evesthar, this pact is made. If there is nothing else to be said, we may continue with the celebration."

"Oh but there is," shouted Brobin energetically as he sprang from his seat, his jeweled eyepatch sparkling. All heads turned towards his table.

"My distinguished brother Brabin and I have been ill for adventure ever since the last Oomglas war two winters past. We feel it is our duty to aid our friend, comrade and rescuer, King Keir, in this most perilous quest and to represent the glorious race of Brimulung in the overthrow and destruction of the evil Teivos."

"King Keir?" asked Glorbain, a twinkle in his eyes.

"I will accept the help of Nasaus' greatest warriors most graciously, your majesty. Thank you," he beamed at the brothers. "Oh, and may your beards grow ever longer," he quickly added. The entire hall roared with laughter.

Then King Glorbain clapped his hands and several Brimulung maidens rolled beer kegs out of the kitchen, followed by the king's bard. As the guests were served, the bard unstrapped from his back a curiously-shaped eight-stringed instrument Keir had never seen before. Black Muraga leaned over to inform him that the instrument was called an apraben.

After a quick tuning, the bard sang a lengthy saga of days long since past. When the epic was over, Bautista motioned for Keir and Black Muraga to follow him. They left the feast as more kegs were brought out, much to Keir's disappointment, and strolled through the palace, the wizard chattering incessantly about this statue and that painting. Keir appreciated Bautista's comments but was disappointed that they never stopped to examine any of the works.

The mage led them to their own room and immediately stretched out on Keir's couch. In a half-yawn he mumbled for them to sit down as he pulled out a long pipe and tobacco from inside his robe. As Keir flopped down on the bear rug and Black Muraga relaxed on his couch, the wizard said, "Well now, I would say this evening was quite a success."

"What do you mean?" asked Keir.

A smile broadened on the wizard's face as he lit his pipe. "This whole feast tonight was my idea. Well actually, King Glorbain and I planned this out before I first came to you. We both thought it would be easier to give the nobles a chance to understand why they are supporting you."

Bautista turned to the knight, who had also lit his pipe. "It really is a pleasure to have you drop in like this, Black Muraga, although it was not much of a surprise. And I am doubly pleased that the twins shall be joining us. Things are going quite nicely."

Keir was surprised. "You don't mind them joining me?"

"Oh no. They truly are the greatest warriors that Nasaus has produced during Glorbain's long rule."

"May his beard grow ever longer," mumbled Black Muraga.

"Hmm? Oh, yes," laughed Bautista. "Peculiar people, these Brimulung. Still, they are hardy enough to defeat the Oomglas regularly."

"Who're the Oomglas?" Keir asked naively.

"Demon's Eye, boy!" swore Black Muraga. "You practically live next door to them! They're evil giants. Not too bright, but incredibly strong. They stand about thirty-five, maybe forty handspans tall, with heads of ice and feet of stone. The rest is flesh."

"Oh you mean the Ice Giants. But I thought they were only tales my father told to scare me when I was a child."

"Trust me boy, they're real."

Bautista leaned forward. "The first Oomglas were actually Cylorites who were corrupted by the Black Magic."

"But weren't the Cylorites human?" asked Keir.

The wizard nodded. "Magic changes."

"I didn't know magic could do that."

"Even the Grand Order doesn't know or understand all of what the Black Magic and the White Magic can do. What you've experienced so far is merely the surface of your possible capabilities, and if your potential is even half that of your ancestors, the powers you possess are great. But I don't want the magic to overwhelm you so I'll teach you slowly, just enough for you to defeat Teivos. Then, after you've completed your mission, you may come to the Wizard's College in Shatuegai and we'll gladly teach you what we can."

Keir brightened and sat straight up. "Can we start tonight?"

Bautista shook his head and the youth sank back into the bear rug, disappointed.

"Come now, don't fret about it. I sensed at the feast how contemplative you were. It seems the events of the past few days, your visit to the Cavern of the Living Jewels not the least, have had a profound effect on you." Keir nodded.

"I think, then, that it would be wise for you to continue to reflect a while longer, at least until you understand what has happened to you."

But I already understand! Keir wanted to scream. I've contemplated long enough! He said nothing, however.

Yet his frustration remained. I'm ready now and if that wizard doesn't want to help me, I'll find out how to unlock this power in me on my own.

He glanced up. Bautista was looking at him as if expecting an answer.

"Very well," he said. "Can you answer me this? How did you know what happened at the river with Pranzik?"

Bautista chuckled. "I spoke with Orudaza this morning and he related what he'd heard. Much I guessed at until I heard you and Black Muraga speak tonight."

"Oh." Keir could think of no other questions that Bautista might answer and the three lapsed into a long silence. He absently watched the two men blow smoke rings, the wizard silently teaching the knight while Keir considered what he'd learned this night about his heritage and the White Magic. But every answer brought more questions.

Why doesn't the mage want to help me? There's so much I need to know about this White Magic. At least he could explain what happened to me when Pranzik attacked me!

Frustrated, Keir finally turned to the great hero.

"How come you know so much about Oomglas, Black Muraga?"

The knight set his pipe down. "I fought against them once, alongside the Brimulung."

"You did?" Keir's eyes widened incredulously.

"Yes. It was about twenty years ago, less than a year after Savonna first took the throne, at the Battle of Tabik Pass. That's the northernmost pass in the Winter Mountains."

"What happened?"

"Savonna sent a message to their chieftain asking that he send a company of Oomglas for an attack on Nasaus. But on the way they were ambushed by a legion of Brimulung."

"And you were there?"

Black Muraga nodded. "Five other knights and I aided the Brimulung, for we could not support Savonna's plan to attack Nasaus. We undid our braids and wore armor fashioned by the Brimulung so the Oomglas wouldn't know we were knights of Lebec. Dwibir, Lord Tolbrin's son, led us that day. It was a vicious battle but in the end, we were victorious. Not a single Oomgla lived to tell the tale but unfortunately we were not without losses. Dwibir was slain, as were my fellow knights. In fact, less than twenty of the legion survived."

"If they were so big, how did you even do that well?"

"You must remember that Oomglas are terribly stupid. We ambushed them from above by dropping boulders. That killed about half but the rest scaled the cliffs. With their size, they were up in no time. All we could do was hack at their legs until they fell over. We were lucky that Oomglas are so slow. They had a really tough time clubbing us."

"So how did you kill them?"

"Several of us would roll those who couldn't stand anymore over the cliff. The Oomglas always took a Brimuli or two with them, but we managed to slay them all." Black Muraga shook his head sadly.

"You left out one part," said Bautista. When the knight failed to reply, the wizard said to Keir, "He had no need to push the Oomglas over. He single-handedly slew seven with his sword. That is why he was introduced tonight as a 'hero for both Lebecians and Brimulung.'" Bautista turned towards Black Muraga. "Do you not think that it is time to once again undo your braids?"

"I'll sleep on it, wizard."

"Sleep on it? Are you sure you still wish to be associated with Savonna and all the wickedness he stands for?"