The Knight and the Knave

Chapter 5   The pale morning light shone upon the snow covered banks of the Yol. The mighty river sparkled like jewels. Three shallow barges sped downstream, propelled by the efforts of polemen and the strong natural currents. After two days of light snow, the weak sunshine was a welcome relief to the travelers. A single tall figure stood at the prow of the lead riverboat. The man was clad in warm woolen clothing with a gray-green hunter's cloak flapping in the wind, and held aloft a large black sword. The blade's edges sparkled like the river, as the black sword moved slowly through patterns of attack and defense. The warrior moved with precision and grace, every movement slow and deliberate, as if time stood frozen in the winter's chill breath. The barge rocked as the river swirled and surged. The man did not lose his balance, and easily shifted into a wider stance. "Quid id, Sunded! You'd gonna fald in the rived and dwon!" Keras' voice was barely recognizable, and seemed to come from a shapeless pile of fur cloaks. Only the young man's reddened nose and puffy eyes were visible beneath his covers. His shapeless fur cap was pulled tight over his head, down to his ears. He had a nasty cold, and the swaying barge was making him seasick. So he sat on the prow, breathing the clean morning air to clear his head. "Ah hate this miserabul wudduh," he spoke vehemently and then sneezed violently. Lotheneser sat cross-legged behind him on a large crate, trying not to laugh at his friend's predicament. He shifted his attention to the grim-looking dwarf beside them. Ghallar looked decidedly different without his plate armor. Not less massive, to be sure, but somehow ill-suited to civilian clothing. He wore a tan coat and a russet cowled mantle over sky blue leggings and black boots. With his enchanted warhammer at his side, he was still the very picture of a dwarven thane. However, his features were pale and held a subtle greenish cast beneath his long brown beard and russet hood. The Thane endured the trip stoically, but mountain-born and bred dwarves usually disliked the open water and boats, and Ghallar was no exception. Lotheneser bit his lip to contain his mirth and turned his attention to the eastern edge of the barge. Kelliam knelt in prayer, greeting the rising sun, as he did every day. The Templar was a sobering figure, dressed all in black. His black leather garments, usually worn under shining half-plate armor, were instead covered by a black cowled robe, slit at the side of the legs to allow freedom of movement to the warrior. Only the silvery buckles of his sword belt and scabbard added some spark of color. That and the plain electrum disc pendant on a silver chain draped over his hands, which clutched a large sword held point down on the deck. The knight received the dawn with an expression of joyous piety. His cowl was thrown back and the long ponytail of dark hair swayed in the sudden chill breeze. None of the Company wore armor while traveling over the water, in case anyone was thrown overboard. The weight of metal armor would only result in a gruesome death by drowning. Weapons, however, were another matter. "Are we there yet?" Emanniel asked, approaching from the rear of the craft. "Almost," answered Sunder, sheathing his sword at his side. "A day or so, Kelliam assures me. How fare you, friend Emanniel?" "As good as new, friend Sunder," Emanniel replied lightly, yet he looked at Kelliam's back as he spoke. The rogue had been shaken by his near brush with death and was still in awe of the fact that the Templar Knight had saved his life. "I'm anxious to exchange few words with our colorless friend." "The opportunity may come sooner than any of us may wish for," Sunder added pensively. I just hope we are up to the task. He made his escape with ease... " "Oh, we'll have words, no doubt about that," Emanniel said with a dangerous glint in his eye. "Besides, no permanent damage was done on our first encounter. I can see Jisander on the boat behind us moving about with hardly a limp, thanks to our pious Knight." "I just hope our assumptions are right and that we'll find this Ad-Kor fellow at the Nutherwood," Lotheneser said. "Tomorrow night makes it seven days after our battle in the Troll Fens." "The Nutherwood is vast," Sunder replied. "It will take some time to pick up the trail. Days, if not longer." "Fear not, Sunder," Kelliam said, having finished his morning prayer. "The Lightbringer led us to our quarry once and he will do so again. Holy Pholtus will not let this pagan endanger his chosen people. You must have faith." Lotheneser and Emanniel exchanged a glance and shook their heads. "I wish I could share your optimism, but... " Sunder left his thoughts unfinished. A loud cawing filled the air. On a branch on the east bank of the river sat a large raven. "Blessed be Pholtus, for His Light holds back the darkness and shows us the Way," Kelliam said with a smile.   -----o-----   The Company had ridden hard since their battle with the trolls. Kelliam's healing powers had restored the Companions to fighting conditions in a few days. From what they remembered of Ad-Kor's conversation with Moggra, the mercenaries had come to the conclusion that the scarlet-robed man had fled to a hidden stronghold in the Nutherwood, a forest which lay to the southwest of Wintershiven. If the man had spoken truly, he was to lead some sort of massive attack on the Theocrat's forces in a week. So they had ridden southwest for two days, following the banks of the Yol. Finally, they found a Palish ferryman. The Theocrat's letters of authorization, along with a reasonable amount of gold, was sufficient to procure three barges and supplies to transport the Company and their mounts. The boat ride proved to be swift and uneventful. Days later, the barges crossed the ford near the road to Wintershiven. The Companions debated whether or not to send a detachment to the city to seek audience with the Theocrat, to warn him of the threat posed by the Sueloise albino. They decided against this, believing that the Supreme Prelate would not trust their words over those of his favored advisor. Proof would be required to convince His Worshipful Mercy of the danger to himself and his people.   -----o-----   Like before, the raven led them straight to the trail. The Company continued downstream for the rest of the day, then abandoned the barges the following morning. They proceeded on horseback to the edge of the forest. Sunder soon found tracks in the snow, winding through the leafless trees. "Humanoid tracks. Orcs, at least a score. Probably more," Sunder announced his findings. "And there are some other tracks I do not recognize. I know of no animal that makes such tracks. We must proceed carefully, lads."   -----o-----   "Our time is running out, Sunder," Lotheneser whispered to Sunder. "Night has fallen. If the albino's plans have not changed, he is about to launch his attack to crush the Theocracy."   Sunder nodded somberly in acknowledgement. They were near their goal, he could feel it. The raven had fallen silent a while back, and they could barely see the bird in this darkness. Only Lotheneser and Ghallar could see clearly. The archer's elven sight allowed him to see by starlight as clearly as if it were day. The mountain dwarf was similarly gifted and could perceive heat emissions in pitch darkness. Fortunately for the rest of the Company, scattered among the leafless trees were some phostwoods, which provided some illumination with their eerie blue glow. Finally, they came to a clearing. From behind cover of the trees and snow-covered bushes, the Company surveyed the campsite beyond. Lotheneser gripped the Unveiler's hilt and extended his magical sight forward. A log cabin stood in the center of the clearing. Through the magic of his enchanted dagger, Lotheneser could see several large wooden crates inside, along with a few sparse furnishings. Several cave mouths were visible at the southern end of the clearing. Lotheneser's vision allowed him to see inside them. "Sunder," Lotheneser hissed. "The caves are empty now, but there are markings inside. They're inhabited by Vile Rune orcs." "Vile Rune? This far from the Bone March? Are you sure?" Sunder asked. "Yes,"  Lotheneser replied. "I can see one of their black standards bearing the bloody sign." "So where are they?" Emanniel asked. "There is an opening in the trees at the far end of the clearing. I cannot see too far ahead, but there seem to be cobwebs there." Lotheneser replied while squinting, trying to push the magical sight forward. "In winter?" Sunder asked, perplexed. "Are there any winter spiders in this forest that you know of, Kelliam?" "Unfortunately, I know little of wildlife and such, Sunder," The Templar replied. "However, I recall no tales of such creatures." Sunder considered this for a moment. "We are pressed for time. Carefully now, lads," He said, loosening his sword in its scabbard. "Artur, Justyn, take the horses while we scout ahead."   -----o-----   The Company moved forward with stealth. Like shadows, they glided over the snow-covered clearing. The caverns and the cabin were empty, as Lotheneser said. Sunder quickly found fresh tracks leading to the opening in the trees at the western end of the clearing. The orcs were clearly all there. With a few whispered instructions, the Company advanced towards the western side, weapons at the ready. The opening in the trees led into a trail. Hundreds of large cobwebs covered the trees on either side of this passage. The sounds of growling orc voices could be heard chanting up ahead. The light of torches and a bonfire came into view as the passage widened into another large clearing. A small hill lay in the center of the clearing. Broken marble columns and the stone remains of an ancient structure could be seen at the summit. At the base of the hill stood a large group of orcs, clad in dark fur garments and bearing torches. All were armed, either with a sword or with a polearm. Their gray-green skins looked black by the light of the torches, but their snouts and large ears were unmistakable. The orcs stood with their backs to the Company, facing the hill. All warriors, no females, Sunder thought. Bearing the markings of the Vile Rune. Strange. About halfway up the hill stood three figures facing a large black cauldron over a roaring fire. The first was a large orc in chainmail, with a horned helmet. The leader of the band, undoubtedly. The second was a smaller orc, dressed in fur robes and wearing all manner of bones and animal skulls as ornaments. The tribe's witch doctor. This orc was dancing and chanting over the cauldron. Like as not, he was casting a spell similar to that used by the trolls in the Fens. The third figure was, of course, Koram-ad-Kor, wearing in a crimson cloak. "I count thirty five orcs, plus the shaman and the chieftain," Lotheneser whispered. "Plus our friend, of course." "He's planning to crush the Theocrat's forces with less than forty orcs?" Emanniel said. "I don't think his brain is getting enough blood. It's probably as white as the rest of him." "I wonder why he is not casting the spell with the shaman," Kelliam said. "He was helping that horrible Moggra in the Fens. Why not add his power to the enchantment here?" "I know not," Sunder replied. "This is all very strange." "Strange or not, it seems we must hasten to act once more," Kelliam replied.   -----o-----   Within minutes, the plan was set in motion. Sunder would lead Emanniel, Lotheneser, Jisander and Eliazar through the woods, circling to the northern end of the clearing. From there, they would attempt a stealthy approach to the hill, where they would target the spellcasters and the orc chieftain. Keras, Arngrim and Ghallar would remain at their present position to cover the rear and provide reinforcements as needed. The rest of the Company, led by Kelliam, doubled back to the first clearing to gather their mounts. A cavalry charge would be invaluable against the numerically superior orc warband.   -----o-----   Sunder swiftly led his group into position. From the northern side of the clearing, they could see the orc shaman and the red-cloaked albino on the hillside. The hill itself provided enough shadows to cover their approach. Sunder had selected the northern end of the clearing for a flanking approach. This would allow them to monitor the enemy's movements and to observe the charge of the horsemen. Going to the opposite side of the hill would limit their visibility and reduce their ability to adapt to the changing conditions during the battle. "All right, lads," Sunder said. "Let us move swiftly to the hillside. From there, I'll give the signal for the charge and cover you while you strike down the sorcerers." The others whispered their acknowledgement. Sunder gave the order and moved out with Emanniel on the lead. And then, of course, things began to go wrong.   -----o-----   "Something's not right," Arngrim whispered, clutching the Cold Axe, Khelek-Cor, in his right hand. A cry had sounded from the northern end of the clearing. Some of the orcs were becoming restless, murmuring and pointing in the direction of the sound. "We cannot wait," Keras said, noting the goblin-folk's reactions. "Let us sound the charge, before the scouts are discovered." He put his hands to his mouth and cawed like a raven, giving the signal for the attack.   -----o-----   Lotheneser clamped his teeth shut and cursed himself for having cried out loud like a fool. He had given away their position and put the Company in danger. In all fairness, he had had a startling experience. As he rose from his hiding place to follow Sunder and Emanniel, Lotheneser had stepped on a trap. A net had risen from the forest floor and snared the half-elf, lifting him high to the level of the treetops. Thoroughly disoriented by this, Lotheneser had involuntarily cried out in surprise. Having regained his wits, the half-elf whispered: "Go! I'll take care of this. Complete the mission!" Ralishaz's luck! He thought. Damned net was hidden beneath the snow. The snare's sticky tendrils clung to his body, pinning down his arms. What in blazes is this thing made out of? Rope? He thought. Then his blood chilled as he recognized his predicament. Not rope. Spider's silk. Lotheneser was trapped in a gigantic spider's web. The half-elf heard a hideous chittering noise from above. A pair of baleful glowing red eyes stared at their prey.   -----o-----   Sunder hesitated at Lotheneser's cry. Eliazar and Jisander were already studying the trees, seeking a way to free their comrade. Sunder heard Lotheneser's whispered plea to be left behind. The ranger's course of action was decided by the cawing calls coming from the other side of the clearing. The order to charge had been given. The sorcerers must be taken out, else all was lost. "Emanniel, go!" He ordered. "Jisander and Eliazar, free Lotheneser. We will deal with the wizards." Sunder turned and ran for the hill. The thunder of hooves could now be heard.   -----o-----   Kelliam waded into the orcs astride mighty Phaeresturm. The gray warhorse reared and struck, felling orcs with its flashing hooves. Kelliam's heavy sword rose and fell amidst showers of black orcish blood. Fully one third of the enemy forces died in the initial onslaught. Yet the goblin-folk quickly recovered and began to strike back. Kelliam's kite shield turned orc blades aside as the Templar fought with the holy fire of Pholtus' righteousness in his heart. His silvery sword hewed the enemy down like wheat before the scythe amidst cries of "Pholtus, Pholtus! Glory to the Lightbringer!" Beside him fought the Company of the Raven. Asharak of the Chakyik struck with the savagery of the Tiger Nomads. Practically raised on the saddle since birth, the warrior of the northern steppes wheeled his lean, strong horse and charged into the fray, tulwar flashing by the firelight. Durlan, the doughty sergeant, shouted orders at the others as he hacked at the orcs with a long sword. Thaddeas, Jerem, Justyn and Artur fought bravely with spears, swords and shields. Though they were still outnumbered three to one, the Company of the Raven battled bravely.   -----o-----   Keras gripped his sorcerous staff in both hands as he watched his comrades charge into battle. Beside him, Ghallar and Arngrim gnashed their teeth in frustration, eager to join in the fight. Ghallar muttered curses in his gruff voice, watching the enemies of his people and being unable to strike. Keras was just about to order them forward into battle when he heard a chittering noise behind him. Blackthorn burst into flames as Keras whirled around to confront the source of the sound. He shouted a warning to his companions. Monstrous white spiders descended from the trees on either side of the mercenaries. Their bloated, bulbous bodies were covered by a short white fur, and the beasts were nearly as large as Arngrim. Their spindly legs carried them forward with amazing speed. Ten reddish eyes glared at them from each head, and clicking mandibles dripped venom as the spiders lunged forward. Ancient dwarven battlecries rang alongside the battle-dirge of the Fruztii as the warriors met the attack.   -----o-----   Emanniel ran silently over the snow-covered ground. Sunder raced behind him, equally stealthily. The sounds of battle could be heard as the Company's mounted charge slammed into the band of orcs. Emanniel did not spare a glance, however. His attention was focused entirely upon his quarry on the hillside. The orc shaman had ceased his chanting and dancing, and was now starting to cast a new spell. Something awful aimed at the men on horseback, no doubt. Beside him, the orc chieftain shouted orders to his warriors in their guttural tongue. The scarlet-cloaked albino observed the battle silently. Emanniel smiled. All three had their backs turned to him. They would never know what hit them. Then Ad-Kor did something unexpected. He turned and ran uphill. Emanniel cursed and increased his speed. A heartbeat later, he heard Sunder say: "The shaman, Emanniel. Stop his spell! I will take care of the albino. You are the only one who can stop the spell!" Emanniel hesitated for a split-second. All his life he had followed orders from no one. He was the sole master of his destiny. He kept no counsel save his own. Came and went as he pleased. This man Ad-Kor was his enemy and Emanniel wanted him to pay! Yet his had been a lonely life. He had few friends and most were thieves and rogues. He had trusted no one. Until he met the Company of the Raven. At first, he had thought them ruthless mercenaries, with no loyalties save to a bag of gold. The last few weeks living among them had taught him differently. These men were honorable. They kept their word and treated each other like family. Each man trusted his life to his fellows and to their captain: Sunder Threndor, a noble man and a capable leader. And now this man was asking him to put his personal feelings aside. To forsake his own plans in favor of something greater. When they first met, these men had only spoken of trust. Not money or power. Their only concern had been for the safety of their Company, of their family. And Emanniel had been received as one of their own. He would not fail them. Without breaking stride, Emanniel turned and ran towards the orc shaman.   -----o-----   Sunder had taken a great risk. The Sueloise albino had not cast a spell so far, but the orc witch-doctor was clearly weaving some unspeakable sorcery. Only Emanniel's enchanted dagger could stop it in time. That left only himself to deal with the powerful sorcerer Koram-Ad-Kor. Sunder headed for the hilltop. Ad-Kor shouted something in the Sueloise tongue. Sunder could not make out the words over the din of the battle below. The ranger from Sunndi had nearly reached the summit when the albino looked straight at him. Sunder cursed softly and ran faster. When he reached the top of the hill, the sorcerer was waiting for him. Sunder stopped, studying his opponent. Something about this man was wrong. Turpin Threndor had trained his son in the Faith of the Sword since the lad was but ten winters old. Krovas Dancar, the Sueloise school of swordcraft, required years of study and dedication to master. Young Sunder had quickly learned that the discipline of steel required discipline of the self. Krovas Dancar was not merely a way of battle, but a way of moving, of acting. A way of thinking. Sunder had learned to master himself and his sword. He learned how to study an opponent. The way a man stood, talked and moved revealed his true nature, his strength and his weaknesses. Koram-Ad-Kor stood among the ruins on the hilltop. His posture and his movements, performed with feline grace, were different from before. His clothing was different, which was not strange in itself, but his choice of garments certainly was. The scarlet cloak was the same. With his left hand, Ad-Kor undid the clasp and shook off the cloak. Underneath, he wore a long, loose black tunic with short sleeves and a high collar trimmed with gold thread. The red sleeves of a scarlet undershirt were tucked inside black velvet gloves. The tunic's hem ended at mid-thigh level, revealing red silken trousers and knee-high black boots. A shirt of mail, made of tiny, black scales and a black leather scabbard at his side completed the strange garb. The albino's white face and crimson eyes, lit by the flickering firelight of the bonfire below, appeared demon-like. With a ghastly grin, Ad-Kor drew a long curved blade, with a single sharp edge in the fashion of the ancient Suel Empire. The blade glowed bright red, as if drawn from a forge. The albino stood sideways, blade held loosely before him on his right hand, right foot forward. A chill ran up Sunder's spine. The man stood in the manner of a Dancar'kal. The stance of a Sueloise swordmaster. This is not possible, Sunder thought. The man is a sorcerer. How can this be? Few men could master both the sword and magic in their lifetime, and those who did were much older than the albino. Only the elves, with their centuries-long lifespans could achieve such mastery of two different disciplines. Yet the impossible seemed to stand before him. A chill breeze picked up and a light snow began to fall. Sunder breathed deeply and put aside all his fear, all his emotions and all his doubts. His gray cloak fell to the floor. Taragarth the Quencher was drawn slowly from its sheath. Sunder turned sideways with his left foot forward and widened his stance. His left hand rested on the empty scabbard at his hip, while his right raised the enchanted sword straight upwards and to the back. Arm and sword were held diagonal to the ground, like an arrow pointed at the moon rising above the horizon behind him. Eagle on the Mountaintop. A high stance to counter Ad-Kor's low position. The swordsmen slowly circled each other, stepping carefully over the fallen ruins and the slippery snow. Each tried to gauge his opponent's skill, looking for a suitable opening. Koram-Ad-Kor struck with blinding speed. Viper Rises from the Sand met The Falcon Stoops in a shower of sparks.   -----o-----   Lotheneser heard the shouts of:  " 'Ware! Spiders!" from below, as Jisander and Eliazar began to battle the deadly white arachnids. The half-elf drew his enchanted daggers and frantically stabbed at the sticky strands of his prison. The eldritch light of the daggers revealed that the hideous creature above him was no spider. It was a being out of nightmare. Large reptilian eyes dominated a grotesque face covered in thick, wiry black hairs. Greenish ichor dripped from enormous fangs at either side of a sharp-toothed mouth. Man-sized and roughly humanoid in shape, the creature had a distended abdomen and four gangly limbs. Each extremity ended in a hand with four impossibly long fingers, nearly a foot in length and topped with sharp black claws. The thing emitted high-pitched chittering noises and shrieks as it approached its prey. The net gave way before Lachluin's blue fire. Lotheneser sheathed his other dagger and leapt to a nearby branch. The nightmarish being lunged for the half-elf. Lotheneser, though not a graceful tree-walker like his full-blooded faerie kin, still managed to avoid the attack and retain his balance. The monster moved on all four feet, long claws securing its hold on the branch. Lotheneser turned and slashed with his elven dagger. The creature recoiled and seemingly rose straight up in the air. By the gods! Lotheneser thought. It flies as well? But his keen golden eyes soon discerned the truth. The creature was held up by a silken thread attached to a pair of spinnerets below its distended belly. The being hung suspended like a monstrous spider. Lotheneser gritted his teeth and desperately tried to formulate a plan to defeat his foe.   -----o-----   Keras swung down his staff like a cudgel. The stricken spider burst into crimson flames. A ring of blood-red fire surrounded the warriors, as the power of Keras' sorcerous weapon sought to ward off the giant spiders. The flames did little good, however, as the spiders took to the trees and descended upon the three mercenaries borne by strands of spider-silk. Enchanted warhammer, battle axe and iron-shod staff battled the giant spiders. A hideous humanoid creature on the trees above chittered and clicked instructions to his arachnid minions. Keras could only hope that the rest of the Company fared well, for they could not depend on the three warriors to provide reinforcements. With flaming staff in hand, Keras whirled and spun into the fray.   -----o-----   Caladar the Spellbreaker slammed into the orc shaman's back. A ringing sound, like that of a pure silver bell, filled the air. Golden lightning danced and arced about the stunned wizard, disrupting his spell. Emanniel whipped his right hand around the orc and drew it back, slicing open its throat with a gleaming shortsword. The rogue pulled back his weapons covered in black orcish blood as the shaman's lifeless body crumbled to the ground. A flicker of motion at the edge of his sight was all the warning Emanniel had of the incoming attack. With lightning-like reflexes, he dove forward, barely avoiding the orc chieftain's vicious axe. Emanniel rolled and rose with his weapons before him in a guard stance. He cursed under his breath. The other members of the Company were too far away to lend a hand, and the rogue was no warrior. The orc chieftain was huge, clad in chainmail armor and armed with a large axe. Given the customs of his people, this orc was undoubtedly the strongest and most cunning warrior of his tribe. The orc slashed again and Emanniel danced out of the way. The goblinoid warlord was fast, but not faster than the rogue from Artonsamay. Emanniel lunged at his opponent, yet failed to penetrate the orc's defenses. Once more, he narrowly avoided the flashing axe. Emanniel cursed again. It would be difficult to strike at his enemy without losing his head in the bargain. The combatants froze as a hideous shriek rose in the darkness.   -----o-----   Kelliam turned to face the sound. The Y-shaped slit on the face of his helm somewhat limited his peripheral vision, but did not obscure the horror emerging from the hillside. The thing was nearly twenty feet in length and white as the snow around it. It resembled a cross between a spider and a monstrous scorpion. Long, armored legs like those of a crab propelled the creature forward as it emerged from a hidden cave on the hillside. A score of faceted eyes glowed with a reddish light above a horrible maw surrounded by a cluster of barbed mandibles. The creature emitted another dreadful screech and rushed forward. One of its powerful forelegs thrust down in a blur, impaling an orc through the chest. With a fluid motion, the monster lifted the orc and bit off half its torso. The remains of the humanoid rained down in a grisly shower of black blood. "Blessed Pholtus have mercy!" Kelliam whispered. A breathless prayer for aid. Yet the Dedicated knew no fear, for their God fought with them. Kelliam raised his sword and readied his shield. "Onward, Phaeresturm!" He cried, guiding the warhorse with his knees. "Glory to the Lightbringer!"   -----o-----   Ad-Kor thrust his red sword at Sunder's face. Hummingbird Kisses the Honeyrose was deflected by Cutting the Clouds. The ranger felt the scalding heat of the albino's fiery sword. The air sizzled as the falling snowflakes melted upon contact with the incandescent blade. Sunder turned parry into attack. The Courtier Taps his Fan was countered by Arc of the Moon. Taragarth the Quencher's edges gleamed with golden-red light, as did the rune at the blade's base. Sparks flew each time the enchanted swords met. Both swordsmen moved with fluid grace and deadly precision, as if executing an intricate dance. The feral grin had not left the albino's face, but his breathing had gotten heavier, as had Sunder's. Their initial attacks had been simple, designed to test an opponent's defenses and gauge his skill. Sunder countered every stroke and found his every attack parried in turn. The albino's technique was flawless. He was Dancar'kal indeed. Now they moved to more complex patterns. Sunder struck furiously with The Boar Rushes Down The Mountain and was countered by The  Rose Unfolds. Koram Ad-Kor switched to Bundling Straw. Sunder was barely able to parry in time. The Dove Takes Flight. Sunder knew that the albino would eventually triumph. The man was simply too good. On a desperate gamble, the ranger tried an all-out attack. He advanced with Striking The Spark, a series of overhand blows. Taragarth howled and moaned cutting through the air. Metal rang against metal. Koram laughed as he parried with Watered Silk.   -----o-----   Lotheneser feinted to one side and slashed at the beast's unprotected flank. The monster evaded the attack easily. Arms flailing, Lotheneser tried to regain his balance. The hideous creature rushed forward, this time slamming into him. The half-elf nearly lost consciousness as the wind was knocked out of him. Black spots swam before his eyes and the world spun wildly. The wind rushed by as both combatants fell locked in a deadly embrace. Lotheneser desperately gripped the thing's throat to ward off the poisonous fangs. The being shrieked, clawing at the half-elf's back with its large talons. Lotheneser thrust his dagger through the thing's jaw and into its brain. Blue flames shot from the beast's eyes as Lachluin took its life. Lotheneser twisted in midair, trying to get the creature's body to break his fall. The half elf screamed as the ground rushed up to meet him. With a jarring jolt, the archer came to a sudden stop. The creature's silken thread held them suspended a few feet above the ground, like a gruesome pendulum.   -----o-----   Emanniel seized the opportunity to strike while the orc chieftain was distracted. With a snap of the wrist, Caladar went flying to its target. The orc shrieked as the enchanted dagger bit into his right eye. Emanniel rushed in and stabbed at the orc's arm.  With a howl, the chieftain dropped his weapon. Another slash to the throat silenced the warlord's cries. The rogue bent to retrieve his dagger and whispered at the dead orc's ear: "At least your god will appreciate your new looks."   -----o-----   Kelliam charged the monstrous spider at full gallop. With a powerful slash, he cut off one of the monster's legs. The bluish-white fluid that was the thing's blood flew everywhere. The spider recovered and then attacked. An armored leg knocked Kelliam from the saddle and sent him flying backwards. The Templar recovered quickly, rolled over and dove sideways to avoid being impaled by the spider's onslaught. Kelliam tore off the helm from his head and gripped his sword in both hands. He shouted an order to Phaeresturm to stay back and dove in to attack. The knight rolled and dodged between the spider's legs. He brought up his blade and slashed at the monster's abdomen. More of the bluish ichor rained down. The spider shrieked and spun, flaying its legs wildly, trying to reach its enemy. Kelliam lost his footing and stumbled to the ground. The spider screeched in triumph and rushed in to deliver the deathblow. A circle of flames sprang up around the stunned knight. The monster recoiled from the fire. A warhammer struck with a clap of thunder, throwing the creature off balance. The hammer flew back to its owner's hand. Kelliam could hear dwarven battle cries behind him. He smiled. With the Company at his side, the beast was doomed.   -----o-----   Lightning of Three Prongs was turned by The Falling Leaf. Sunder tried  a new avenue of attack. Wind and Rain was foiled by The Moon Rises Over The Lakes. The albino's defenses were impenetrable. This was not the rigid, ceremonial art form that sword craft had become in the final days of the Suel  Empire, but the vibrant, deadly warcraft that had forged a great nation. A lifetime of single minded dedication and discipline was evident by such perfection. How this man had found time to study magic was beyond Sunder. Had the ranger spent all of his time in pursuit of Krovas Dancar, he could match this man's skill, yet he would never have learned of woodcraft or other worthy pursuits. Ad-Kor struck with Soft Rain At Sunset. Sunder jerked back barely in time. The sizzling blade drew a thin cut below Sunder's left eye. The stinging pain did not break Sunder's concentration but did make him reconsider his strategy. The answer was quite simple, really. Sunder had been trying to match Ad-Kor at his own game. The ranger stepped back gripping his sword in one hand and began to hum a wordless tune, which was old when the elves first walked under the starry skies of the Oerth. His feet moved in dance-like steps and his sword wove  intricate patterns through the air. The elven art of the bladesong flowed into Suel forms, which in turn blended with the battle lore of the Oeridian warlords. The grin faded from the albino's face as the tide of battle turned against him. Ad-Kor was forced to a defensive position now. Shouts of victory rose from the triumphant Company as the monstrous spider was brought down. The Sueloise warrior saw his creature brought down and knew himself to be hopelessly outnumbered. Sunder saw him clasp a golden amulet around his neck. With a flash of blinding white light, the albino was gone. When Sunder's vision returned, he saw a white wolf disappearing into the woods south of the hill. Sunder gritted his teeth with fury. Again had the albino escaped them. But this time, he would leave tracks. The ranger smiled. This time they could give chase.   -----o-----   Keras' burning staff lit the way as Sunder, Emanniel and Kelliam made their way into the giant spider's lair. Lotheneser had taken the rest of the Company to examine the abandoned orc caves and the cabin on the eastern clearing. Cobwebs and bones littered the cave floor and the rank smell of the monster clogged their nostrils. A short passage led to a dark warren where a score of leathery eggs, the creature's hideous brood, were gestating. Flaming torches and enchanted weapons destroyed these potential enemies as the Company set about the gruesome task of clearing this nest. A cry of despair escaped Kelliam's lips. The others quickly gathered about him, weapons at the ready. "What is it, Kelliam?" Keras asked, looking around for hidden threats. "Lightbringer have mercy," Kelliam whispered as tears welled in his eyes. "Look," he gestured to a dark corner of the cave. The mummified remains of a man, clad in the armor of a Templar Knight, stood wrapped in cobwebs. "Who... " Keras began. The desiccated corpse seemed to have been drained of all vital fluids, its features so distorted as to be impossible to recognize. " 'Tis my father's armor," Kelliam said. "Though his face is ruined, there can be no mistaking Keldor Tharius's armor." The young Templar gestured again. "And he bears my father's blade, Aranruil, the Sword of the Morning. May Pholtus keep his soul always in the Light." The color drained from Emanniel's face. "Things being what they are, that will be somewhat difficult," Emanniel managed to mutter, holding unto the wall for support. Suddenly, in a burst of uncontrolled angst, he ran outside towards the clearing. Sunder and Keras exchange puzzled glances in the suddenly uncomfortable silence. "Keras, please keep Kelliam company," the ranger stated softly, not wishing to intrude on the Templar's grieving.  He then slowly made his way out of the cave, seeking Emanniel. "What is wrong my friend?  Did you know Sir Keldor?" "Did I know him?!!!" Emanniel said, exasperated. "I would give anything I own, anything I can acquire for that man not to be a part of my life. For you see, friend Sunder, that man is responsible for the death of my mother." Emanniel's hand trembled in controlled rage as he told the news to his friend. The Company Of The Raven was the only group of people Emanniel had come to consider 'family' after the passing away of the only person whom he truly felt something similar, his mother. "And you see friend Sunder, Istus of the Fates has dealt me a cruel hand, for it is his son who brought me back from the gates of Gehenna after facing the accursed albino for the first time and losing in mortal combat." Emanniel looked exhausted after this. Defeat, frustration, hopelessness seemed to sink into him, sapping away the very spark of life that always seemed to surround him. "How am I to tell this to the person I owe my life to?" He asked. Sunder took a deep breath, his expression grim.  The albino, Ad-Kor, truly left nothing but death and suffering in his wake. "My friend, I am sorry to hear this.  I know that Kelliam would not like, at this time, to hear aught that would cast his father in a bad light."  Sunder paused.  Although he knew Emanniel to be courageous, he had never seen him so distraught. "Yet he is an honorable man." The ranger added. " I believe he would prefer to know the truth now, rather than be deceived and have you carry this burden alone.  Only Istus knows why she chose for you two to meet in this manner. All a man can do is to face her will on his feet."   -----o-----   Irina watched the column of Knights approach her father's inn. A smile lit up her gorgeous features as her heart raced with excitement. As a girl, she had dreamed of Knights in shining armor racing across the fields in noble quests. Gallant Warriors rescuing demure maidens from the clutches of fearsome beasts. Irina had never seen a Knight in all of her sixteen years, and the only fearsome beasts she knew were the Bandit Kings who ruled their land. Artonsamay was a poor realm, and Roben, her widowed father, was but a humble innkeeper. Hard work and serving tables were all Irina knew. Breathless with excitement, Irina ran to the inn. She had to help the other girls set the tables and ready the rooms. It would be a very busy night. She couldn't wait to see what it would bring.   -----o-----   "And then Lord Tharius hewed about him, right and left," one of the mercenaries roared, as the weary warriors boasted of their exploits in battle. The others cheered and called for more ale.  The Palish knights sat at the next table, smiling at their boisterous companions, drinking wine in moderation, in accordance with their beliefs. Irina came in from the kitchen, carrying a steaming tray of stew. She had never seen the inn this full, or met men such as these. Some were pale, some were dark. All wore outlandish clothes and spoke with strange accents. "Aye, no enemy could withstand the Sword of the Morning!" the burly swordsman continued his tale. "All hail Aranruil !" the soldiers cheered and raised their flagons to salute the knight at the head of the table. Her eyes were drawn to that man.  Strong, handsome features, with long black hair tied in a pony tail and deep, warm eyes. The knight stood up in his polished armor and drew a bright blade with which he returned the salute of his men. Arnuil? Was that his name? She could barely understand the foreigners' accent. Irina could not help but stare. The man's mere presence commanded attention. Then he turned and met her gaze. Irina flushed with embarrassment, realizing that she had been staring. The knight smiled, and her heart raced. All flustered, she turned  and headed for the kitchen. At the door, she looked back. His eyes were still on her. Irina smiled.   -----o-----   "The next day, the men left my grandfather's inn. I was born the following winter," Emanniel continued his story. "In spite of his promise, the man who was my father never returned. My mother did not know what family name to give her son, so she called him Samael Brightblade. That is right, friend Sunder," Emanniel added, seeing the look on the captain's face. "I hadn't even told you my real name. You must understand, though, that I knew naught of this myself until recently. I was always told that my father was a brave warrior who died in battle before I was born." Emanniel shifted uneasily, seemingly gathering strength to continue his painful tale. "And so I returned home scarcely a month ago to find my mother deathly ill. On her deathbed, she told me the truth. She said my father was a Palish lord, and that his name was 'Arnuil'," Emanniel smiled wistfully. "The men in the inn must have been talking about his sword. She never even learned his true name." Unshed tears welled in his eyes. "She died of a broken heart, you see. Not of pneumonia, like the physicker said. Before my grandfather passed on, he used to say that my mother's spirit died with my father, for she was often melancholic. She lost the will to live. Now I know that she was betrayed." Emanniel wiped away the unshed tears and scowled. "So I set out on a quest to find this man. I have searched far and wide and no one has heard this name until now. It finally makes sense."   -----o-----   "Sunder, come see this!" Lotheneser's cry interrupted the uncomfortable silence. Sunder turned towards the newcomer. "What is it, Lotheneser?" The ranger asked in hushed tones. "We searched the cabin in the clearing. We found several crates filled with these." The half-elf held up a brick-like object which sparkled in the moonlight. It was a silver ingot engraved with a spread-winged hawk: the crest of house Tharius.   -----o-----