Rise of the Fifth
The Hidden College Part 1
Pages 226 to 240

Delenar had never witnessed the sort of courage he saw from Blackthorne’s guard. The few men he was given were holding the stairwell against an ever-increasing number of Shadows. There was easily a hundred milling at the bottom of the cellar and more seemed to appear every second. Timing would be crucial.

One of the guardsmen, a tall man whose named escaped the elf, was raked with a set of deadly claws. Delenar reached for a knife but knew he would be too late to help. The guardsmen let his sword drop and threw his weight forward into the Shadow. The stairway was too crowded for the beasts to avoid the attack and they were sent ploughing back down the stairway. The brief respite allowed another guardsmen to fill the gap in the defence.

"Just a few moments longer!" urged Delenar, knowing his words were of little comfort to the defending guard. The time would need to be soon; they could not hold much longer.

Reaching for an arrow, Delenar removed the wine-soaked cloth from the bottle of red and wrapped it around the arrow. He raised it up over the guard fighting on the stairwell and held the arrow to one of the torches.

"Be ready to run for the keep on my signal!" he shouted over the clamour of battle.

And with that, he drew his bow.

~*~

Pontois sat upon his chair in his luxury office room. His land was rich and his castle glorious to behold, he was at the forefront of trade and very high up on the KTA. His disregard for the rules and general disdain to the other Barons had meant he had large amounts of wealth if very little in the way of friends.

He had received the message from Blackthorne a few days ago, but had dismissed it as a general slur to keep his armies out of the way whilst Blackthorne looked once again to unite the KTA. The people had such respect for the Baron but the rest of the KTA had little in common - they were largely made of people who would sell their own family for the wealth it would bring. Pontois was one of those; had he been more like Blackthorne he may have listened and could have united or at least put up a meaningful defence.

'Why didn’t I trust him. He always seems to tell the truth,' Pontios thought.

Or at least he would have if his head hadn't been on the floor. It wouldn't have been so bad had his body been lying next to it, but unfortunately for him it was still sat on the chair. They had come when night had set, not many but enough. From the corners of rooms, from back alleys. It seem anywhere it was dark, anywhere a wall cast a shadow or a candle did not burn.

The screams could now be heard from houses, muffled in the streets. With his family sitting around for their evening meal, Gahdon just dismissed the screams as general arguments - it was getting late and this was the time when the scum of the city came out. He returned his thoughts to the fantastic, succulent prime roast beef on his plate. The smell was amazing and the roast potatoes and gravy added to the mouth-watering aroma. Two candles burnt in the centre of the table and moonlight streamed in through the window behind him. He looked up and took in his mother, his wife and two beautiful daughters. He was a lucky man - he only wanted for a son.

The family started their meal, gravy running down chins and meat being torn although they used knives. It was better than he could have expected. Even the cloud running past the moon could not spoil his mood, it started with a tendril then completely blocked out the moon, casting shadows around the room.

He felt strange all of a sudden. He shivered slightly, then felt a hand upon his shoulder. He froze. An ear-piercing scream came from across the table - his twelve year-old daughter just stared past him. Gahdon turned - he could not make out features but saw an outline. All of a sudden a claw was slashed across his face, and it tore his flesh and took out an eye. Blood spurted from the wounds and pieces of flesh hit wall and floor.

The four women fled in a blind panic, Gahdon's wife grabbing the candle stick as they moved. They flung chairs and rushed out of the room towards the front door of the house, screaming as the went. A few meters from the door they stopped for some reason. It was that strange feeling again. There was nothing there, then a second later there was. An outline, someone, something. They screamed again, but it was no defence as the Shadow moved fast and imbedded claws into the midriff of the younger eight year-old daughter. Blood poured onto the floor as vital organs were pierce. The Shadow from before came behind and grabbed Gahdon's mother, inserting his claws into her face.

Quickly the two Shadows worked their way through the family, slashing, cutting and thrusting with their claws. They left a lake of blood, organs everywhere and guts splattered on wall and floor. The city of Pontois was falling fast and the city guard knew nothing of it.

It was several hours before anyone found what had happened to the Baron. They had taken the odd screams to be due to the riff-raff that frequented the city. And by the time they had found out what was going on, half the civilians in the city were dead. The city guard now had patrols out and had followed one source to a small house on the western side of the city - the six men in the patrol took their time.

Opening the door to the house, slowly the lead man crept in, it was so dark. All the candles had been blown out and only the moonlight lit the way. He did not last long before a Shadow had attacked - from just outside the guards heard the scream and stepped back to see him roll out. He was still alive but covered in cuts. As the blood ran onto the cobbled street he uttered one word,

"Run."

The others paused for a second then saw the Shadow step out of the doorway, blending so well with the dark inside. It was large and black, as if straight from hell. The moonlight reflected off of its claw. Three readied themselves, pulling swords from sheaths whilst the other two turned only to be confronted by another Shadow. The city guards backed in on each other and waited for the attacks, and they came simultaneously.

The Shadows were so fast - the first blocked an attack from his right with the claw and grabbed the arm of the second guard. The third guard cut the Shadow high on its right arm, but to the shock of the guards it healed almost straight away. Infuriated by this cut, the Shadow turned the arm of the guard he held and skewed the side of the one who had just cut him. In a scream of pain the guard fell.

The Shadow then snapped the arm he still held and ducked a second strike from the one to his left. He turned and slashed upwards, connecting with flesh and knocking the man off his feet. This left only one standing, and with a broken arm he was made short work of as the Shadow grabbed his head and inserted his claw into the midriff.

The other two guards were having no more success. The Shadow blocked two strikes before back-handing one guard and then swinging round to knock the sword out of the other one’s hand. With this the guard turned and ran, leaving his 'friend' one-on-one with the Shadow. This hapless individual, who had taken a sword to the side, crawled to where he his sword had fallen. The Shadow kicked it away and thrust his claws into the head - it connected, smashing through flesh and bone, killing instantly. Screams came from guards on the ground that had not had the luck of a quick death. The Shadows decided to let them bleed and continued with their work.

The guard who had fled ran and ran. He never looked back once. He rushed into the main guard office and, panting and wheezing, tried to get the attention of the guard captain. The captain looked up from his paperwork and gave his younger officer a puzzled and unamused look.

"What is it?" he ventured.

"Sir," he replied with heavy breath, "We found them - they’re evil!"

"Sorry?" the captain appeared to be unimpressed by this comment.

"Sir," replied the guard, “They had claws and were so fast. We had six and they only had two, they were big and strong and blended with the shadows."

"Oh gods," this description matched exactly what the messenger had said. Blackthorne was telling the truth, and to think him and Pontois were only joking about it yesterday.

"What do we do?!" asked the guard in a blind panic.

"The only thing we can, evacuate the city."

~*~

Karil exited the tavern to sit by his friend outside. They were seated on a large piece of rotting wood, which broke slightly as the mage sat down, clearly unable to take their combined weight. And Pen had been here for a while, consumed by a type of sorrow Karil hoped he never had to understand.

"Pen?" Karil's voice was soft, concern for his friend now his utmost priority - after all, he had no more responsibilities left now - he would do everything for the one person he had left that mattered and that person was his best friend.

The warrior looked up, his eyes red-rimmed, and for a moment neither of them said anything before Karil began again,

"Pen, you're needed."

"Clearly not by the person that matters," his reply was said through renewed tears, his voice breaking.

"Pen, she does need you, but she needs time to adjust to her responsibilities. You of all people should know that." It was not a reprimand, and Pen seemed to accept what the mage was saying was true.

"How am I needed?"

"Blackthorne," Karil replied simply. "There will be battle there soon."

"And this affects me how?" the warrior frowned, genuinely confused.

"It's the Shadows, Pen. The Master has sent them to Blackthorne."

Unliore hesitantly approached the two men sitting in the morning sunlight, her arms wrapped around herself and her face surprisingly calm, sugar-blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. They looked up at her arrival.

"If you go to Blackthorne, I'll go with you, if you'd like," she offered.

"Thank you, we'll need all the help we can get, by the looks of things," Karil replied with a smile.

"Good," she smiled back - she now had a direction to take, and it eased her mind. But still something bothered her. She looked down at Pen, saying quietly, "I'm sorry, Pen, about..." she didn't know how to continue, but he understood and just nodded. Unliore nodded back with another, pitying smile and walked off to collect her things.

Pen looked over to where a distracted-looking Talo was leading a horse from out behind one of the elvish houses, opposite the side Unliore had taken. It was a horse laden with supplies. Talo didn't stop to look at the pair. Pen raised an eyebrow - he didn't like the mage, of course, but they could certainly use that inhuman power of his...

"Where the hell are you going, Talo?"

"None of your business. Now that Joibri's gone, courtesy of you, there is nothing for me here, or anywhere else," Talo answered curtly. Despite Karil's hand on his shoulder, Pen spoke darkly,

"How dare you blame me. She left because her life was spiralling out of control - and I think we all know who to thank for that."

Talo smiled his venomous smile, though lately, the others thought, it was looking much more sinister than just icy. They just hoped that it wasn't an indication of his inner mentality. Those hazel eyes pierced straight through them more easily than DeathHail, settling on Pen as if the big man were simply prey, and the voice that came out of his mouth was eerily calm and barbed,

"Yes, I think we know exactly who to thank. Ah well, it will be given its just rewards," the smile again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Karil demanded, still trying to keep his fuming friend down on the log beside him. Talo laughed, and the vaguely hysterical sound made them shudder from within. As Talo appeared to be lost in it, Pen turned briefly to Karil,

"He's changed..." he said with a suspicious look. "God he's inhuman, he has to be." He looked directly back to Talo as he spoke,

"Oh, I'm sure we'll see. Yes, we'll see..." with a last maniacal smile at Pen Talo re-gripped the reins of his horse and led it through the trees.

"Do you think he's a risk?" Karil asked, watching Talo's back disappear into the forest and the rump of the horse sway out of sight.

"Of course he's a risk. Powerful or not, he'll be his own undoing, I can guarantee you that. He thinks he knows Joibri so well, but he doesn't," Pen spat.

"What's his link to Joibri?" Karil couldn't recall either her or his friend telling him about that strange man. Pen breathed deeply, maddened by the mere thought of Talo, before answering,

"Her father chose him as her intended husband before she ran away. Talo became a Fifth mage soon afterwards, apparently in the interests of keeping her safe from them. He knew her only by books, reports, magic. Only by studying her, like a specimen. I've known her since childhood. We worked together, suffered together. I know her so much better than him."

"That...thing, wanted to protect her? Loved her?" Karil said, though he knew it was a risk to agitate Pen further - he was disgusted. Pen nodded grimly.

"Powerful mage or not, he brought her nothing but pain and confusion. Bastard Talo..." Pen cursed the woods. "Yes, Talo-eran, you'll get your just rewards..."

~*~

That evening, Talo took a risk and made camp out in the wilderness - he hoped that Shadows or worse wouldn't think to attack a lone mage and his horse. Although, now that he thought about it, he didn't really care if he died or not. He didn't even know where he was going - he just needed to get away, to recover before he returned to Lena.

The mage had built a moderately-sized fire in front of where he now sat, his back to a boulder, the camp itself on the edge of a small wood overlooking a wide plain. He had allowed his horse to graze on that plain, loose, so that if he were to be killed at least the creature would have a chance to escape his attackers...or his attacks. A storm was brewing on the far-off horizon, but it was nothing compared to what was festering inside him.

He recalled her touch, every syllable that had fallen from her mouth, that first and final kiss, her warmth that had been stolen away... Though Talo stared at the horizon over his unattended fire, he didn't see it - he only saw her. Lithe, beautiful, dangerous...eyes as pale as those of a moth fleeting in the darkness. She had been promised to him, but more than that...his whole life had been hers, essentially...and without her the emptiness was intolerable, needing to be filled.

‘Lithe, beautiful, dangerous...eyes as pale as those of a moth fleeting in the darkness, the darkness of a room without a fire, only intimacy...skin that so wonderfully melded with mine...I’d treasure every bone in your body...

‘You’ll drive me to death and back and all that‘s in between...’

The hallucination of Joibri came closer, becoming life-size, kneeling down in front of him despite the fact that that was where the fire was. She stared at him intently, almost lustfully. Tears forming in his eyes, Talo tried to convince himself that it wasn't real. But it didn't work. Hunger for her outweighed rationality, love fighting with reality.

Her full lips parted, a whisper escaping,

"Talo..."

With the last vestige of his rationality Talo forced his eyes closed, trying one last time to convince himself that it was all in his mind. All in his mind. Gods burning but he wanted it to be real.

‘Joibri...’

When he opened his eyes, she was still there, leaning forward to him. He sat up from the boulder and reached for her...

‘The stars fall should she be mine! Mine to keep in the darkness...so beautiful...’

She lowered her head but still looked at him, poised like a cat, her gaze taunting, dangerous and lustful. Daring him to reach. Joibri sat back on her knees as Talo stumbled forward, leaning her head back and breathing in deeply as she faded into flame.

Talo screamed as his hand touched only the fire, and he jerked it to his chest as he came back to reality. More than the burn, something inside Talo broke, falling into pieces and masked by his scream. An instant, angrily-cast WarmHeal was placed on the wound, but still he collapsed over onto his side, crying deeply - not from the pain of the burn but the pain of the loss. He rolled onto his back, not able to see the stars because his eyes were shut so tightly, letting all of his sorrow pour out just as it had done in the tavern the previous night.

"YOU WERE MEANT TO BE MINE!" he yelled in anguish, startling his horse into a brief run away. "HE TOOK YOU FROM ME!" Back onto his front he rolled, good hand delving into the grass and soil.

He wanted her more than anything - yet even with all his power, he couldn't get the one thing he wanted.

Talo opened his eyes, startled for an instant to find the hallucination beneath him, no longer on grass but on crimson sheets. Still quivering with his sobs, he touched her throat with one hand, looking desperately down at her suggestively-smiling face. Her arms reached up to loop around his neck, but then the hallucination dropped back into the ground, vanishing. He let out another deprived cry.

Suddenly Talo was up to his feet, casting his CrimsonTide spell left and right with his good hand. The plains beneath his feet suffered, as did the forest behind him, his supplies and the horse that had tried to get away, all burnt to cinders.

Unconcerned, Talo stood in the fiery remains, breathing heavily and shaking all over, still not satisfied. Almost doubling over, he screamed at the top of his voice,

"JOIBRI!" The tears returned, his voice dying down to a hoarse whisper, "You were meant to be mine...why can't I have you..."

The hallucination returned, stepping through the remains of the trees and wrapping her arms around him from behind. Talo leant his head back, smiling as he felt her sweet-smelling hair against his face. She whispered seductively into his ear,

"You can...just try a little harder. For now, you have your dreams...but in reality, yes, you can too..." Savouring the hallucination's touch, Talo smiled to himself,

"Yes...I can..." he started laughing with the wonderful idea, the fantastic 'possibility', because for the moment fantasy and reality were all the same. "I will."

The laugh turned hysterical as Talo opened his crazed eyes, echoing across the charred plain. The hallucination still hung onto his shivering form, her own pressing into his and face sliding into the nape of his neck. Though nothing was there, Talo reached up with an elegant hand and held her face with it,

"I shall have you..."

And he knew, in his broken mind, exactly how he was going to go about it.

~*~

The explosion had lit the skies of Blackthorne and rumbled the very earth. Delenar had narrowly escaped the tunnel of flame that had enveloped the stairway into the wine cellars and only three of the guards had managed to avoid its touch. The price of the trap had been high.

But what a trap!

Watching from the top of his keep, Baron Blackthorne had to smile. He had watched the young elven archer fire his arrow, a streak of light that disappeared into the Shadow-filled labyrinth. Moments later an explosion of flame had seared from the stairwell. Heavens knew how many Shadows had been waiting in the catacombs and were now cindering piles of ash, but one thing was for sure, it had affected the Shadows greatly. The Shadows suddenly stopped the attack, many of them dropping their weapons and clutching their heads. The defenders took the initiative and surged into the unprotected demons.

The same situation occurred all around Blackthorne, as defensive areas suddenly found their attackers distracted and seemingly useless. Veygan was laying waste amongst the horde of Shadows outside the town hall like a demon himself. His defence forgotten, it was simple butchery now. While he fought on a handful of guards began the evacuation of the town hall with orders to head for the keep. It was obvious the area would not hold for long, but Delenar’s trap allowed for a quick escape.

Delenar himself also dashed for the keep, closely followed by the last three guardsmen.

"Its not far now!" one of them shouted between gasps. Delenar nodded and forged onwards. He made it to the keep as the evacuees from the town hall reached it. Kane, Blackthorne and Lena were waiting for him, all wearing huge smiles.

"Not bad elf!" said Kane.

"I believe that puts me ahead," replied Delenar "You really do need to step-up your game!" Kane laughed,

"I'll catch up, after all, with your sword skills you'll have no chance of increasing your tally!" Delenar smiled,

"We'll see." Blackthorne approached the elf and slapped him on the back,

"I never thought I'd see my entire cellar of wine used as a trap, but I'm damn glad I did, you got hundreds of them!" Delenar nodded,

"Well it seems to have worked; a lot more people have made it here now."

"Where is Veygan?" Lena asked suddenly, having been searching the crowds of evacuees and soldiers. It took a moment for her question to register, but she saw the smiles on their faces drop. Blackthorne quickly made for a group of soldiers from the town hall and within a moment he was back with a haunted expression.

"He attacked the creatures alone. It was...a distraction," he said quietly. They all stood quietly for a moment allowing the words to sink in. Outside the Shadows began to come to and reclaim their weapons. "Close the gates!" Blackthorne shouted to his men.

"No! Veygan is out there!" Lena stormed.

"He’s gone Lena, close the gates!" Blackthorne replied. Lena looked ready to leap at the Baron but Kane quickly held her close to him, his expression similar to her own,

"We will all die if we open the gate Lena, you know that! He is gone!" Lena stared hard at Kane as if to find some hint of doubt, but she already knew he was right. Delenar looked equally upset, if not worse. She saw tears form in his eyes just before he skulked off to be alone somewhere. "I’m sorry," whispered Kane but Lena wasn't listening - she was watching the gate slowly draw closed.

~*~

Veygan fell hard against the alley wall, blood pouring from several wounds. He gripped his left shoulder with his right hand, desperately trying to stem the flood of blood. His left leg was badly cut and unstable to walk on while a trickle of blood from his head ran into his eyes. The alley was dark and deserted but they would find him soon, that much he knew. He just wished he still had his sword, at least he could take one or two with him.

He tried to rise once more, taking slow and painful steps along the alleyway. The keep loomed up before him, scant metres from the alley he hid in. Too bad that an army of Shadows blocked the way. The Wolf soldier collapsed once more, this time making no effort to right himself. It was over, all his dreams...

'Gailen wouldn't give up - will you leave your brothers to fight alone?' the voice came suddenly to Veygan, not so much spoken as echoing in his mind. Veygan shook his head to clear the voice, but to little avail. ‘You are a Wolf; Wolves don't surrender at the first sign of blood.'

"But I cannot walk," Veygan whispered to himself.

'You have not tried! A quick burst and you can reach the keep.'

"The gates are locked.....and .....the Shadows," he stammered as darkness closed on him.

'WAKE UP man, gods, you are stronger then this. You can make it through the Shadows.'

Veygan found clarity of thought for a minute, a fresh wave of energy surfacing within him.

'She needs you,' the voice whispered in his mind.

"She needs Talo, I am nothing to her."

'Then start making yourself something to her, go to her!'

"I’m not listening to this, I’m delusional."

The voice ceased for a minute, allowing Veygan a brief respite. He looked across the long street to the keep entrance. At least twenty Shadows stood there, seeking entry.

'You can pass them, you are a Wolf and the best of them.’

"Gailen is better..."

'Yes, only because he believes in himself. You must trust me, I know us better then you know.'

"You are not real."

'Perhaps, but I am still right. Now get up and go!'

"The gate, it's closed"

'I will handle the gate, now go and for gods sake hurry!' Veygan struggled to his feet.

'What the hell,' he thought. 'I might as well die fighting.' Drawing a knife, he stumbled out into the street.

~*~

Lena felt Kane move away from her, leaving her to mourn alone. She stared hard at the gate, almost expecting Veygan to knock from the other side.

"He is gone," she said to herself.

'Not so,' came a voice.

Lena was taken aback and stared around her. No one was there but the gate guards and they stood silently nearby.

'Open the gate.'

"Whose there!" she shouted.

'Open the gate and be ready to cast.'

"Who is this?"

'For heaven's sake. OPEN THE GATE.' Lena almost fell from the power of the voice in her mind. She felt confused and dazed but the voice had given birth to a spark of hope within her. She gazed towards the gate.

"Open the gate!" she ordered the guards.

"We can't, the Shadows are out there!"

"Open them or I will destroy them," she said calmly while forming the shape for a ForceCone. The guards looked confused, torn between the threat and their orders, but one of them made to open the huge gates. What Lena saw almost made her lose her focus. Veygan stood in the street, fighting an army.

"Hold - close those gates!" Kane yelled as he rushed past Lena, making his way to the battlements over the gate. He flew up the steps like a man possessed at the sound of the gates closing below. He finally reached the top and stood directly over the middle of the gate, beckoning the mage pairs based there to him. He turned, found Lena looking up at him, her eyes a picture of desperation, and he understood, nodding at her. Guards were already lining up just behind her, ready to form their barricade to allow Veygan to enter the keep. He faced the mages again.

"Listen up - we have a man out there, and we intend to bring him back. These things have no defence against magic, so let’s try opening a corridor right down to the gates. First team - DeathHail, left side. Second team - the same to the right if you please. Third team - I want FlameOrbs to the rear. You two I want to keep the LightGlobes up here going - I don't want any of those bastards getting up here without us knowing about it. Everyone got it so far? Yes? Good. I'm going back down there to help keep the gates secure - I know I can count on you to keep them off for as long as possible."

The mages all acknowledged him and took their positions just as the bolts on the gates were being undone. Kane made for the stairs again, drawing in the shape for an IceWind in his mind as he shouted to Lena not to cast just yet. She looked at him imploringly, but when she looked back at the mages over the gates she knew instantly.

"IceWind?" she asked.

"Got it in one. Let's bring our boy back, shall we?" he replied as the doors creaked open and they were confronted with an ocean of darkness...

~*~

'To your left fool!'

Veygan whirled round to parry the blow at the last moment. His knives were too small to think about fighting the Shadows, and his left arm was near useless, but somehow he formed a defence.

'Behind you, high blow.'

Again Veygan whirled to block a blow he had no right to sense coming. The voice was panicking him now - he had seen many Julatsan soldiers hear voices near the end.

'You are not going to die, focus!'

"I have lost too much blood. I feel weak..."

Veygan sensed the emotion behind the voice change. It was sadness. Veygan managed to parry two more blows before losing the grip on his left hand knife. He looked up at the blow he could not block and awaited its bite.

It never landed.

Two columns of DeathHail soared into the Shadows, two walls of icy death with Veygan in between. Orbs soared over his head to crash into more of the creatures and for a moment Veygan had a clear run to the giant gates of Blackthorne Castle.

With a leg that threatened to collapse at any moment, Veygan ran as best as he could. His vision was swimming now and he found himself tripping over his own feet. Behind him a handful of Shadows had survived the magic onslaught and were now running towards him. Once again he was saved.

An arrow slammed into the lead Shadow's head, or at least into the cloak where the head would be. A split second later and another arrow slammed into the chest of the second beast. The arrows kept coming with impossible speed and accuracy - they didn't kill the creatures, but they certainly slowed them.

Veygan stumbled on; he was just inches from the gate when it opened again. He saw Lena step out with Kane to her side, both had spells on their lips. Fire and ice tore into the darkness. It would be enough.

"Thank.....you...." Veygan managed to say as he fell into the arms of Kane.

"We need to get him in and those gates sealed. Lena, WardLock if you please."

Kane dragged the Julatsan soldier through the gates which were instantly shut behind them. Veygan felt the darkness closing on him, the noise of the gate house sounded a mile away. He tried to speak, but he couldn't tell whether he was successful or not. He felt a warmth growing around his arm and tried to focus on the face above him. He managed a brief moment of clarity and smiled.

Then the darkness took him.

~*~

Three other elves intent on fleeing the northern continent had joined Joalanar and Joibri, and now they sped across the plains bordering the River Tri on spooked steeds, heading for Arlen. Not even Joalanar's precautions could have prepared them for the three newcomers being pursued by a small murder of Shadows. They needed to take to the water as quickly as possible, even if it meant going the long way round to Calaius, never stopping once.

There had been four newcomers originally, but one had fallen when his horse reared. There had also been eight Shadows originally, but now, courtesy of a revitalised Joibri and a little help from her companions, there were only five. Joalanar held onto the reins of Joibri's horse, keeping it riskily close to his own, and she crouched on their backs even in her skirt, one foot on each horse and facing behind them. The other three elves had fanned out either side, warding off attacks of their own.

Like they had done several times in the past few minutes, two of the Shadows leapt for Joibri and Joalanar, claws flashing in the sunlight, looking to tear the riders asunder. An arrow from one of the newcomers, Gipeth, hit one where its shoulder would be, distracting it. Momentarily rising to her feet, Joibri heftily swung Gasta's sword and dispatched the Shadow, leaving it to tumble in the dust behind them, never to get up.

Two more arrows struck the other leaping Shadow in the side, but it carried on in its dive. A glint of metal and it became skewered on the double-edged sword, the weight of the stuck dark body threatening to pull Joibri from her difficult position.

"Joal!" she yelled, and her new friend turned to look at her over his shoulder,

"Step right!" he yelled back, and she did as the Shadow continued to twist and writhe on the sword, both of her hands quaking under the strain and narrowly avoiding the claws. Joalanar let go of the reins of her horse, letting it flee, and used his now free hand to take hold of one half of Joibri's kichida. A difficult swipe and the Shadow head tumbled down in a vicious fountain of black.

Joibri immediately grabbed onto Joalanar, letting the Shadow body slide off of the sword. With more than a little difficulty she turned around and sat behind him.

"That leaves three!" Joalanar congratulated. More howls announced that their hunters had not given up. "Gipeth! Xan! Cresa!"

"Slow!" Xan, the female, ordered. Joalanar immediately did so, pulling hard on the reins of the chestnut mare.

Xan and Cresa raced ahead, bladed staves ready, whilst Gipeth came up beside Joalanar and Joibri, notching two arrows to his bow. The Shadows ahead were confused. The two arrows impaled one, bringing it to the ground to be trampled by the arc Xan and Cresa cut, at the same time slashing at the two other Shadows. Another double-volley sent one flying forward into the direct path of Cresa's bladed staff, whilst Xan also despatched hers but without the help of the arrows.

'Gipeth is good, but I'm thinking not so good as Delenar,' Joibri thought with a smile as the Shadow wails died and the group reformed. She took back one half of her faithful kichida, looping it back with its other half, still holding Gasta's bloodstained sword down the horse's side.

"Keep going," Joalanar said, nudging his horse back into a steady canter. The others followed - there wasn't far to go. "Are you all right?" Joalanar asked Joibri, who was currently tearing a split in her skirt so she could ride astride more easily.

"Well enough," she replied, looking behind her at what she was leaving behind beyond the horizon.

~*~

"Where is Talo?" Karil and Pen turned, finding Unliore looking confused.

"He left," Pen growled.

"What?!" Unliore was aghast. "Why? Why would he leave us, just when we need him, when Blackthorne could need him?"

Karil squeezed Pen's shoulder, standing to lead Unliore away and out of Pen's hearing. Around the back of the tavern Karil stopped to turn to the Fifth mage.

"I believe that Talo is a changed elf, Unliore. He is not who he was." Again, confused by Karil's words, Unliore frowned.

"What do you mean, he's changed? How?"

"We think that Joibri's rejection of him was, a shock, to put it lightly." Unliore looked away, knowing the horror that she had felt that night as she heard him cry. Despite this knowledge, Unliore shrugged it off,

"Talo normally would never have been so affected by such trivialities. By such a...girl."

"Unliore, you must see - Joibri was not just a girl to him. She was his given."

"You mean, all his life, he-"

"Yes, his whole life was devoted to her."

"And yet she rejected him?" Unliore sounded a little angry.

"It was not that easy for her, Unliore. Her entire life has never been easy, being forced to do things since a young age she never wanted to do."

"And there was another, though Talo could not say who." At Karil's obvious discomfort at the direction of her question she all but knew the answer already. "Him?"

"What precisely is that meant to mean?" Karil felt his own anger increase.

"What has he that Talo has not? He is not skilled in the mage sense," Unliore argued hotly.

"He is a warrior of great skill who, had he not been here would have been greatly missed within the Fifth, would you not agree, Unliore?" Unliore had to admit, though grudgingly, that without Pen's presence they would have been a lot worse off. "Not only has he skill, but he has a heart, which is not always easy to find these days within this country." Again Unliore had to agree with the mage. Hanging her head briefly, she looked up with a face whose pride more than anything was broken, saying,

"I'm sorry for the outburst, but I cared for him, as a good and close friend. I was one of the few who didn‘t despise him for his power, one of the few who defended him in the face of those who did." Karil nodded,

"We are all protective of those we care for these days." After a moments uncomfortable silence Karil breathed in deeply, signalling their conversation as officially over. "Time to leave for Blackthorne now, I think."

“Strange to know, now, that his power was all for her,” Unliore added quietly as an afterthought.

The two walked back around the front of the tavern, Unliore looking strangely at the warrior. Pen did not fail to notice the look, but merely took notice, since he had a fairly good idea as to why she was looking at him differently.

Having packed all their supplies and already loaded their horses, the three mounted up and began to ride away from the tavern that had been the centre of their lives for the past several days, and towards Blackthorne, and almost certain death.

~*~

Arlen was a hub of activity. Although the man himself was sceptical he never took a message from Blackthorne lightly, and his city was now on the defensive. City guards manned every entrance and exit to the city, the central areas of population were lit and massive bonfires burnt at each corner of the city. All the reserves had been called up and they now lined the city streets. Many civilians could not sleep due to tense nature of the city, others because it was so light. A few even patrolled the street themselves, crude weapons in hand.

Had anyone asked, Arlen would have admitted the defence was a little half-hearted at first. But the arrival of a small bunch of elves had changed that. They were bruised, covered in cuts and looked as though they had been in the front line of the college wars. They sped through the city in quick time and Arlen had only had a brief conversation with the lead girl. The way she looked and her stories was all he needed to see or hear.

And so Arlen was secure - well, as secure as possible. The outskirts of the city were abandoned and the bright centre heaved with too many people. But there were enough guards to hold off for some time, and they really needed to. Arlen was the main port to Calaius and a way to the elves if they were needed. If it fell then they may lose that support, and even worse the Master would have a stepping stone to the southern continent and total domination.

And so, as darkness fell, the city stood still and waited for the tide of darkness to come.

~*~

The battle was progressing better then Blackthorne could have expected. After the huge trap Delenar had set, and the subsequent state of the Shadows, their numbers had been greatly reduced. He could see around five hundred now, all storming the keep, the other secure areas of the city forgotten. His mages were nearing exhaustion and his elite guard had spread themselves along the walls, ready to repel the creatures.

They came quicker then he had expected. One minute his warriors stood at ease, waiting for the ladders to come, then suddenly clawed hands were slicing through the crenulations of the stone.

"They're climbing the walls! Be ready, swing at first sign of their heads!" shouted the baron.

How could they be climbing his walls? They were greased and smoothed every year to prevent such attacks. Yet still they came and it seemed the Master’s minions were not finished yet.

"Baron, I have news. A communion!" said Kane, who had appeared behind the baron. Blackthorne span to face the newcomer and was shocked by what he saw. Kane seemed to have aged from the look of his very eyes - red-rimmed and sunken - and his face looked morbid and he wore a frown as if it were a permanent feature.

"Gods man, you look tired!" the Baron exclaimed.

"Trying to save Veygan...I'm not the most efficient healer." Blackthorne smiled,

"Too good at offensive magic to bother with healing eh? How is he?"

"He will live, we think. Blackthorne, I've had a communion - it’s not good."

"From who?"

"The colleges - the Xeteskian are lost."

~*~

"Holy Shit..." Gailen announced as he looked out over the city gate. The two guards next to him were shocked by his sudden outburst. Gailen looked at them, suddenly embarrassed for what he had uttered.

He returned his gaze to scene outside Julatsa. There weren’t many but they were big; really big. They stood in pairs, one humanoid and what Gailen could only describe as a beast from hell. They had six limbs, clawed feet and what looked to be armour plating. Gailen was already noticing areas where the plating did not quite meet to allow for movement, something that could be exploited in the future. It was his ability to assess situations and make informed decisions that made him such a good general. He felt he had let his high level of professionalism slip a little due to the war and was unhappy with himself. But no matter how much it slipped, he would always be a great leader.

Gailen just stared out at the 'demons' in front of his city. He was at a loss as to what to do. But he had time, because they seemed to just be waiting there. Maybe they wanted a meeting before the battle, but they had not sent anyone forward. Chandyr appeared at his left,

"So this is why you delayed us," he said.

"No," admitted Gailen. "I was expecting an attack, but I have no idea who...or what these are."

"Excellent," replied Chandyr sarcastically. "So your intelligence has been a complete waste and now you’ve trapped us within this city."

Gailen held his tongue. He knew they would have been destroyed had they attack the Fifth - the Master was too strong. Of these beasts he knew nothing though, assuming that they were most probably more of the Master’s minions and no doubt more powerful that the Shadows.

Chandyr turned and left, walking down the stairs to the main gate.

"Where are you going, my lord?" asked Gailen, feeling that Chandyr was about to do something rather rash.

"I will go meet with them. Someone must clear up this mess you have made."

Gailen simply nodded. Chandyr didn't understand that they were only alive because Gailen had halted the attack. Now the Julatsan general had to play the fool so as not to aggravate the situation they were in. He was fed up of being constantly put down, and it was made worse by the fact that the Xeteskian had no idea what was going on. But for the first time since their meeting, Gailen found some respect for Chandyr. He was indeed a good leader; his men were happy and well fed even if his treating of allies left a lot to be desired. And standing up to this threat, after all, was the right thing to do.

Chandyr continued down the stairs and turned to the main gate, pausing to talk one of his guards, "I want mage and archer support on the walls and call up the guard to be ready if any attack happens. If they kill me then Gailen is in charge. He is a good man and maybe he was right to delay us. But watch him, he must not interfere with our plans."

Chandyr stood in front of the gates as they were slung open. A silence descended on both sides of the walls. He took a few uncomfortable steps before calming himself and walking straight into the gap between the Skalah and Julatsa. There he stood for a few minutes, he felt so cold a strange chill running up his body. The sound of the gates closing echoed in his head.

What felt like the longest wait of his life ended as one of the humanoid creatures walked up to him. It was over seven feet tall and looked quietly menacing, its body covered in a strange armour. That armour did not look as though it was skin of any sort - obviously made by this race themselves. Its dark black complexion made the afternoon light look even more intense and the sun picked out its hard course skin and sharp claws.

When it spoke, it wheezed slightly, as if not used to speaking. It took time to form the words, not used to Balaian at least.

"Surrender human, or we will destroy you." Chandyr paused for a second and then replied,

"We will never surrender, our force is far bigger than yours. Go now and we will spare your lives." The general didn't believe it but thought the confident air might help him.

"Fool," rasped the Skalah lord, "You think you’re so superior! But, if you can beat my Drakoor in a battle then we will leave." Chandyr stood tall and pulled his sword from its sheath. The sunlight glinted off its polished edge, as did Chandyr’s courage rising to the mark,

"Bring it on."

"You fight with honour. You shall be rewarded in the next life. But now, you will die." The Skalah lord turned away and walked back to the army.

He pulsed thoughts to his Drakoor pet and the goliath of a monster scuttled past him. If the Skalah had looked large and menacing it was nothing compared with his pet. Chandyr had seen nothing of the sort before - it had a massive body covered in dark plate armour, six limbs with hooked claws, whilst pincers and fangs protruded from its cat-like face. Four eyes looked straight at the Xeteskian general.

With a strange screech the Drakoor attacked, and it was quick and agile, pouncing on Chandyr. The Xeteskian rolled out of the way and raised his sword. With a fast swing he hit the armour, his sword bouncing off as if it were a stick striking a brick wall. The Drakoor turned and slashed its limbs at Chandyr. The general batted one away and dodged a second before a third strike knocked him from his feet, creating a large scratch in his solid metal armour. The Drakoor went to crush Chandyr but the Xeteskian was quick once again, for he rolled and scrambled to his feet.

The Skalah master pulsed encouragement to his pet and smiled to himself. This human was much more powerful than the others he had encountered. He was quick, looked to parry and dodge blows before striking with his own. If more were like him then this was going to be a good hunt and more honour would come their way.

The Drakoor lunged at Chandyr, its pincers looking to get a limb. The general moved to his right and spun his sword upright, connecting with the fleshy inside of the mouth. The Drakoor screamed as dark blood oozed form the cut. It spun and smashed right at Chandyr with its heavy tail, narrowly missing as the general dodged once again. But he was slower to his feet this time and was getting tired. The Drakoor swung the almighty tail again, and Chandyr ducked and prodded his sword upwards, cutting deep.

The beast spun again and reared up, a gap appearing between plated armour. Chandyr, seeing an opening, charged and rammed his sword into the flesh revealed. Blood squirted forth, drenching the Xeteskian, but as he tried to free the sword the Drakoor moved back, almost dragging Chandyr with him. The sword was lodged there as the beast brought in a flurry of limbs.

The first was easily dodged but without a sword to defend himself Chandyr took the second across the face, sending him sprawling to the ground below.

Gailen watched as the Xeteskian general crashed to the floor - his head dropped. The feeling of an imminent attack washing over him, he looked left and right at the mage and archer support on the wall and prepared to give the order to unleash spells.

On the ground, the Drakoor moved to Chandyr and placed massive limbs on his body to stop any movement. It moved to strike the Xeteskian but suddenly stopped, the Skalah lord pulsing thoughts into its brain. The lord himself came up to Chandyr and looked at the broken shell of a man,

"You fought well. You bring honour to your kind." With that he looked at the Drakoor and pulsed thoughts to his pet.

The Drakoor's head moved to Chandyr's face and with one powerful strike with the pincers he caught the general on either side of the head. The pincers smashed through bone and flesh, killing instantly, leaving a bloody mess of ruined flesh that had once been the Xeteskian’s head. The Drakoor continued to devour the crushed head as the Skalah leader turned to the walls of Julatsa and pulsed the attack to his brethren.

The Skalah and Drakoor charged at the walls in a flurry of cries. And with that the first HellFire rained down on them.

~*~

The two hundred and fourteen Shadows remaining at Blackthorne were nervous. They had suffered a terrible loss when the explosion had taken half their number, and now too few of them were left to take the fort. The one that had assumed the position of 'leader' was troubled. Another loss here would certainly see the Shadows replaced with the Skalah. And banishment was too terrible to contemplate.

'Do you sense it?' a brother pulsed to the hive.

'Yes, has Master sent one?' another asked.

'No, it is the half-breed,' the leader replied.

Fear rippled though the hive mind. The half-breed had killed many and caused the Master great anger. He was a thorn in his side that had too much power.

'Do we retreat?' pulsed a Shadow.

The leader was torn, lost in an idea that may redeem his kind in the Master's eyes.

'We attack him! If we can slay the Skalah-Man, we will have won a victory for Master. Perhaps then we will be forgiven for our failure here.’

The hive was scared - the idea was met with mixed emotion. But slowly the Shadows retreated from the keep to move towards the north quarter.

"What are they doing?" Blackthorne asked eagerly. "Are they retreating?"

"My Lord, I have yet to see those demons retreat. Delenar! What do you see?!" came Kane’s reply. Scores of eyes focused on the retreating black mass, but few had the range of Delenar's elven vision.

"I don't see anything in the street, but who are they?" His finger pointed upwards in the direction of the Shadows, where two moonlit figures were flying towards them. And fast.

"Gods what's going on?! Archers ready!" Blackthorne shouted. Lena ran up beside the frantic baron and applied her ManaVision, not that it was needed - the figures were almost upon them.

"It's Unliore! They're friendly! Stand down your men."

The Baron looked dubious, but made the necessary gesture. His guard lowered their bows, many torn between watching the approaching mages or focusing on the mass of Shadows. As the mages approached, the male ran short on stamina and fell hard to the ground. Lena ran forward and helped the man.

He was trying desperately to say something but he had flown to the point of exhaustion and was gasping for breath. Kane could not hear a word the man was saying from where he was, but Lena was listening closely over the exhausted mage. She made out one word and turned to seek out Kane.

"Pen," she said. "It's Pen!"

As if to elaborate the point, a large figure burst through the mass of Shadows down in the streets, cutting left and right with clawed hands. Kane focused on the figure. It was not quite human, but distinctly similar.
What was easily apparent was that the creature was wounded. Blood bubbled from a score of small gashes and punctures. Kane cursed under his breath, recognising him immediately.

"He needs help! Delenar, shall we?" said Kane as he ran towards the stairwell.

"You can't go out there! There’s hundreds of them!" Blackthorne protested.

"He’s one of us." Delenar answered simply as he too charged towards the stairwell.

Moments later, Kane, Delenar and Lena emerged and set off towards the end of the street. Blackthorne was suddenly distracted by a mage falling to his knees on the parapet beside him, gasping for breath and ShadowWings collapsing. He knew instantly that he was no threat, and took his hand from his sword hilt.

“Send help to him, please...” the dark-haired mage pleaded. Blackthorne knelt down in front of him, trying to hold him upright. A huge gash from the mage’s collarbone to his stomach spilt redness onto the baron’s hands.

“Gods, man! Medic!” Blackthorne yelled over his shoulder.

"Pen! Over here!" Delenar shouted, notching another arrow to his bow.

The shaft tore into a Shadow beside the injured man. His demon eyes locked onto Delenar and for a moment, the elf thought Pen would attack him. Then his eyes took on a more human appearance and Pen ran towards the trio.

"Lena, IceWind," said Kane, preparing his spell.

Twin streaks of ice tore into the pursuing Shadows and then all four were running towards the keep. The road suddenly seemed a hell of a lot longer and Pen was running slow. He had gradually become human again and his wounds were now more visible and hindering. His bare chest was running with blood and his legs were cut in several places.

"Delenar, I'll take him, keep these things off us!" shouted Lena. She tried desperately to support the much larger man as they made for the keep.

Kane sent a handful of FlameOrbs behind them, a mass of flame springing up to engulf a score of Shadows. Delenar was releasing shaft after shaft in front of them where Shadows were emerging from dark alleys. The creatures finally closed the gap as the four reached the gate.

"Open the gate! Mage teams ready to support!" Blackthorne shouted, still tugging the wounded newcomer down the stairs himself.

The huge gates opened to allow Kane to run through. He turned when he reached the safety of the keep and cast HellFire. Shadows were burned to ash as they neared Pen and Lena, the fires seeking out each of their souls. If they had such. Only Delenar remained outside the gates, his bow cast away in favour of his knives.

"Stop toying with them Del, get in here!" shouted Kane.

Columns of DeathHail tore into the remaining Shadows, giving the elf archer a route to safety. He threw two more knives, each of them taking a Shadow through the throat, then he ran towards the open gates. The Shadows howled in anger and chased the elf furiously. He turned and threw another knife, the blade burying itself in a dark cloak. Shadows were all around him now, but Delenar was ducking, dodging and throwing his knives with speed and deadly accuracy.

He turned to parry a swing before thrusting his blade into the Shadow’s 'face'. Then he ducked and swept out his leg to trip another. He cut and parried, rolled and stabbed until the gate was only a few steps away, with Kane standing ready to cast. Delenar looked to the Dordovan, ready to flash him a smug look. But the look on the Kane's face stopped the elf in his tracks.

The next thing he felt was a cold pain shoot through his chest. Then the pain had quickly receded. Delenar swung and lashed out with a knife, severing the 'throat' of a Shadow. He felt something brush his leg and threw a blade to his left. Then he felt a warmth gush from his shoulder and saw the sword protruding from it. He lashed out again and another Shadow fell. He turned then to see Kane standing at the gate. Two guardsmen were holding him, while he appeared to be shouting.

Funny, Delenar couldn't hear a thing. He drew his last blade when he realised he was on his knees. He looked back towards his only friend in the world and smiled, but a Shadow stepped in front of him then, blocking him from the view of the keep.

"You....die," it said in broken Balaian.

Delenar tried to laugh but found it difficult - his body seemed to have trouble responding.

"I don't think.....so.." he managed.

He saw the sword swing towards him and knew he could not block it. His vision was swimming and even focusing on the strike seemed impossible. But then he found a last moment of clarity and surged upwards as the blade neared his throat. His ruined arm suddenly gripped the knife firmly as he struck upwards and buried the blade into the Shadow’s chin.

"You die first!" he spat at the creature.

And then he felt the cold pain several times again, each time echoed by the calling of a familiar voice. He never felt Kane's IceWind strike.

~*~

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