Prophecy of Swords

M. H. Bonham

Published by Margaret H. Bonham/Sky Warrior Books at Smashwords

© 2005 by Margaret H. Bonham

Print book published by Yard Dog Press, 710 W. Redbud Lane, Alma, AR 72921-7247

www.yarddogpress.com.

Other Books By M. H. Bonham:

Runestone of Teiwas (Yard Dog Press)

Serpent Singer and Other Stories (Yard Dog Press)

Lachlei (Dragon Moon Press www.dragonmoonpress.com)

Howling Dead (Dragon Moon Press)

The King’s Champion (WolfSinger Publications www.wolfsingerpubs.com)

WolfSongs I (WolfSinger Publications)

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this books and did notpurchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

To Larry, who’s been through it all more than once. To my parents, Al and Betty, who really wanted to see my first novel. And in memory of Snopeak Kiana of Sky Warrior, best friend and my own personal Ni’yah.

Acknowledgements

My thanks goes out to:

- Larry Bonham, husband, sounding board, and editor.

- Al Holowinski, who encouraged me to write the story again.

- Dusty Rainbolt, who encouraged me to send it in.

- Selina Rosen, Publisher, and Lynn Stranathan, editor, who gave it a chance.

Chapter One

Allarun awoke with a start. The cold air from the keep's sole window prickled his sweat-drenched skin. He sat upright for a while, watching the moon's light play among the clouds. The nightmares had come again. It could not be a coincidence.

He drew himself out of bed and slid into the silken clothing. Cold finery, he reflected thoughtfully. How different it was now from those days on the battlefield. He had never been haunted by nightmares then – the world had been remarkably real. Life and death. Living and dead. Friendship and betrayal…

He almost flinched, but caught himself. It was a long time ago, he told himself. Lachlan was gone – his ashes scattered and long buried beneath the Darkling Plain. The Eleionwere but a scattered race among the Ansgar. There would be no more war.

Then, why do you dream?

Why indeed? Allarun strode to the window and gazed out into the night. He leaned against the stone; strong, slender fingers gripped the railing. He was tall, even by Eleionstandards. Slender to the point of bony – the years had not been kind. At one time, he might have been considered handsome, but now he was wan and withdrawn. The dark mane, once full and flowing, was now lackluster and brittle. His face was angular and pale, but his eyes were still dark and held a hungry fire within. That fire now searched for something.

In the distance, the storm clouds had gathered. Lightning flashed, lighting up the cloudbanks. The thunder rumbled muted, as though the silence weighed heavily upon it. But Allarun knew the wind. The storm would head this way. It always did.

"This is the third time this week," a soft, female voice said.

Allarun turned. His gaze fell upon a small woman in crimson robes. Cascades of golden curls flowed from beneath the hood as she gazed into his eyes with her own steady green ones. "I did not summon you," he remarked, not bothering to hide the irritation that crept into his voice.

"No, you did not," she said as she closed the door and strode into the room. A delicately painted fingernail traced the crystal ball that sat on the stand near the bed. "My Lord, I am indeed surprised. I would have thought the Sight would not have left you."

Allarun frowned. "It has not, Lila, though I sometime wish it were so." He stared back out at the moon.

"What did you dream?" she asked.

"How did you get past the guards?"

Lila laughed. "You ask a sorceress?"

Allarun's gaze narrowed. "I have grown too complacent," he grumbled. "A few hundred years ago you wouldn't have made it to the Keep."

"Perhaps," she smiled. "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I may have an answer for you."

"And in return?"

"That remains to be seen."

Allarun frowned. He knew Lila too well. She would bargain when she had the advantage – that was her kind's treachery. The link between him and Areyn Sehduk had grown dim over the centuries. Perhaps she might be able to resolve that which he had lost. Still, the sorceress's help did not come without a price.

"Very well," he said. "I dreamt of the Darkling Plain and of Lachlan again."

"Did he die?" she asked, as her hands traced the reddened wood on the table.

"Yes, yes!" he snapped.

"Then what causes your concern?"

"The curse – it becomes stronger each time in my dreams."

She ran her hands lightly along the crystal ball. "My Lord, you know the death curse is the most powerful of magic. As the son of Rhyn'athel, his powers were not weak…"

"I know! I know!" he said. "But why now? Why after all these centuries?"

"Perhaps because the line of Elsonre still runs true."

Silence engulfed them both. Allarun stared at the moon as it emerged from the dark clouds. "Romarin of the Silver Hand…"

"The Red Wolf."

"He is at Citadel Heights."

"Find him and you find Lachlan. Destroy the Lachlan’s incarnation before he awakens, and the curse is no more."

Allarun nodded.

###

Shadowhelm stared at the gallows as it swung before him in the wind. The wind was strong that day, blowing the cold air from the alpine tundra miles above the city of Citadel Heights. But even the alpine air could not clean the stench of death and decay that filled his nostrils. The gallows had been used many times before – even if Shadowhelm hadn't seen it, he would have known by the feel. He could feel the gasps as the rope dropped, hundreds, maybe thousands of times before.

Although mid-morning, the cold sun had not crested the cliffs on the east. He would die in a foreign city, far from his homeland even before the sun rose. Shadowhelm stared dismally ahead. The gallows towered on a platform twenty feet on the North end of Merchant's Quarter. Below him, the shopkeepers were busy displaying their wares and people were going about their business, either buying or selling. Not far from the gallows was a bakery; the aroma of fresh baked bread was incongruous with the morbid scene. There was always a crowd in the Merchant's Quarter – many were wandering idly around, waiting for the day's executions.

A sharp prod propelled him forward, followed by a harsh laugh. "Can't worm yourself out of this one this time, thief?" the guard said.

Shadowhelm wheeled around, deftly averting the poll-axe as it swung towards him. Although ropes bound his wrists tightly behind his back, he still had use of his feet. "I stole nothing!" he hissed. He was shorter than an Eleionand dressed in rags, but he held his head high. Beneath the dirt and bruises was a mixture of Ansgarand Eleion features and a gaze that commanded power. The guard stepped back for a moment, forgetting the man's wrists were bound.

The guard laughed and spat. "Shara'kai." Half-blood.

Shadowhelm did not flinch. Under the grime and the rags, he still bore the mark of kings – half-blood or not. The red-gold mane marked him from the Royal House of Lochvaur. "Filth!" Shadowhelm snarled. "I stole nothing."

"Then may Areyn judge your soul," the executioner snapped. The big man grasped Shadowhelm's shoulders and spun him around towards the gallows.

Hanged like a common thief,Shadowhelm thought.

He stared at the noose and redoubled his efforts to slide his hands from the ropes. His wrists were slick with sweat and blood, but the ropes were tight. If he could somehow move his fingers to untie the knots…

The pole-arm prodded him forward. He took two steps and the executioner shoved him into place. Shadowhelm almost recoiled as the man fit the noose on his neck.

All at once, the memories of dying men flooded Shadowhelm’s mind. Their last thoughts, hopes, and feelings echoed within his thoughts as though this was some ghoulish final torture. His gaze fell on the trap door. At least it'll be quick and he wouldn't have to hear the dying men's final thoughts.

"Halt!" a female voice rang from somewhere beyond the crowd.

The crowd parted and Shadowhelm watched as a soldier astride a dapple gray rode forward. The stallion's hooves chattered on the cobblestones as the warrior reined the steed.

She was a tall woman wearing chainmail and an open-faced helm with a noseguard. The surcoat she wore over the armor was red and gold with a dragon emblazoned across her chest and back. Shadowhelm recognized the colors and armor immediately. A Chi'lan warrior.

“What are you doing?”

Shadowhelm's gaze met hers. She's Eleion, he thought as he recognized the icy steel color of her eyes. He wondered if perhaps she might be from the Royal House of Lochvaur, herself. He couldn't tell, because her hair had been cut warrior-style and was concealed by her helmet. His wrists, drenched with sweat, had become slippery and he found that he could wriggle his hands enough to work the bonds. He slipped his fingers around the knot, praying for more time.

The executioner squinted. "Just hanging a thief, Commander."

"We're at war, Executioner. Or haven't you heard?"

"Ma'am, I…"

"Didn’t you receive the King's orders? There will be no executions until further orders."

A murmur ran through the crowd. She stared into the Executioner's eyes. He flinched. "Allarun is on the move. We need anyone who can wield a sword. We need shock troops for Citadel Heights."

The executioner grinned at Shadowhelm. "Eltarfodder. I hear they are soul-eaters."

"How would you know? You haven't one," Shadowhelm shot back. At that moment, the knot slipped and his hands pulled free.

The executioner snarled, seeing his charge freed. He tripped the trap door.

"No!" shouted the commander.

But, Shadowhelm had leapt up and grasped the rope before he could fall and snap his neck. He pulled himself upward, clinging to the rope, knowing well that one slip would kill him. All around, the crowd began cheering and yelling. The commander rode forward, trying to reach the platform. "Stand back, all of you!" she warned. The guards held back, not daring to disobey a Chi'lan’s orders.

The executioner was not deterred. He bellowed, drew his sword, and charged at the Shara’kai. Shadowhelm swung and kicked, knocking the executioner in the chest. The man reeled backwards and fell through the trap door. Shadowhelm's hands began slipping. He looked up, trying to gain more purchase on the rope when he saw a flash of a silver si'lardagger. The throwing weapon sliced through the rope cleanly and he plunged downward.

Shadowhelm caught the edge of the trap door, dropped, and then caught a scaffold. He dropped again and grasped another, before dropping to the ground. The crowd backed away as the executioner rushed forward, swinging his sword. Shadowhelm stepped aside as the heavy hand-and-a-half slid past him and used the big man's momentum to fling him to the ground.

Shadowhelm turned and halted. The Chi'lanwarrior’s sword was pointed at his throat. "You don't fight like a common thief," she remarked, eyeing him appraisingly. "Come with me, Shara'kai, we can use fighters such as you."

Chapter Two

"Allarun's army has just passed the Rolling Hills," Falar said. "Scouts estimate twenty thousand total."

Romarin of the Silver Hand, High King of the Eleionshook his head. He rose from the throne and strode to the small window, looking over the lands beyond Citadel Heights. A handsome man, even by Eleionstandards, his silver eyes searched the lands beyond as though he could see something beyond the fields and forests. His red mane was long, a testament to the years that had passed since he had seen battle. He had not worn a helm in over ten years – he would have cut it close in a warrior's cut like the knights wore theirs. It was streaked with silver, betraying his years.

Yet Romarin was far from being old or infirm. The royal finery could not conceal the rippling muscles on the king's six-and-a-half-foot frame. Unlike most Eleion, Romarin was not fine-boned. In the light, he had the look of a snarling wolf that had given him the nickname, "The Red Wolf." He curled the fingers of the silver gauntlet that had replaced his right hand years before. He turned and considered his nobles. Eleion, Ansgar, and even Shara'kai lords and knights stood in two rows in the dimly lit room, smoky from the sconces. At one time, Citadel Heights had been the domain of Eleiononly. But that was even before Romarin's time and ever since he could remember, the Eleionnumbers had dwindled. The Eleionwere no threat to Allarun's sovereignty.

"Why now? Why would Allarun move against us after all these years?" Romarin mused aloud.

"Allarun is a fool if he thinks he can storm Citadel Heights," Falar said. He was young Eleion– one of the few purebloods left. The golden mane, cut back short to fit a helm, and pale gold eyes marked him from the House of Redel.He wore the colors of the Chi’lanwarriors and the king: red and gold with a dragon emblazoned across the surcoat.

"He would only do it if he felt he could win or if there were something at stake," Romarin replied. "Allarun is lord over all the continents, save perhaps the little feudal kingdoms a few of us dare rule."

"Perhaps the freemen have been too large of a thorn in his side," remarked Lord Isen, a Shara'kaiknight whose father had fought for Romarin in earlier wars.

"Perhaps he seeks Lachlan once more."

Both Romarin and the nobles turned in surprise. A figure, shrouded in a black cloak, trimmed in red, entered the chamber.

Falar drew his sword. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

###

"I'm not a thief," Shadowhelm said. "I'm a free-lancer."

Shadowhelm rode beside the Chi'lanwarrior on a red roan. His wrists were bound in front, allowing some movement, but they were tied to the pommel of the saddle. The knight held his horse's reins. She arched an eyebrow in amusement. "A mercenary?"

Shadowhelm nodded and glanced down at his clothes. "I admit, I look a lot less impressive in rags."

"Why were you arrested?"

"The last sentinel gold run – someone filched the chest right from under the sentinel's watch."

"You?"

He shook his head. "But someone was kind enough to slip a few gold coins in my trunk before the guards searched the boarding house." He met her skeptical gaze. "I didn't take it," he said evenly. "I pride myself on honesty."

She stifled a chuckle. "A mercenary with a reputation? My, my…"

His gaze narrowed. "You don't believe me."

"What's your name, Shara'kai?"

"Sceaduhelm– Shadowhelm."

"An odd name," she mused. "That's not Eleion."

"No, it's Northmen," he replied. " I was born in the Northlands not far from the Tundra Steppes."

"Is that where are you from?"

He shrugged. "It has been years since I have seen those frozen lands. I left there shortly after I came of age. My last work was in the Southern Shoals defending Prince Armir's merchant ships from pirates."

"I heard about that. The mercenaries decided to set up a fake merchant ship and when they were boarded, they took the pirates by surprise. Clever."

"Thank you." Shadowhelm paused. "I usually don't disclose this much information about myself, even to a beautiful woman, without first knowing her name."

She laughed at his boldness. "Commander Kalena of the Long Sword."

His eyes widened slightly. "Your reputation precedes you."

She smirked. "Hardly."

"The right hand Chi'lanto the High King?" he said. He considered her. "One of the few remaining Lochvaur…"

Kalena reined her horse. His own horse backed up a few steps. She met his gaze steadily. "And so are you, Shara'kai. What line do you hail from?"

Shadowhelm stared for a moment and then realized the truth: She saved me because I'm of the House of Lochvaur. She recognizes me as kindred. It was not his prowess in fighting or even the High King's law. "I don't know. I never knew my parents. My mother was Shara'kaiand died shortly after I was born. My sire's identity died with my mother." He shrugged. "It is not uncommon among the Northmen."

Kalena dismounted and slid off. "We're here."

Shadowhelm recognized the Citadel guardhouse. An imposing structure hewn from the same sandy brown stone as the walls and cliffs, it towered three stories above the cobblestones below. "What are we doing here?"

Kalena drew a knife and cut his bonds. "You say you're a mercenary – I'm giving you a job. Go inside and clean up, Shadowhelm of the Northmen. When you're in uniform, come see me."

###

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" Falar demanded. He held the creature at sword point.

The black shrouded creature lowered the hood. Not Eleion; not Ansgar, but certainly man-like – the creature had dark skin and narrow-slitted eyes, like that of a cat. His irises were deep red as they studied the High King's face. "It has been a long time, Romarin," the creature said in a raspy voice. He pushed aside Falar's sword as though it were something inconsequential.

Falar stared at Romarin. The High King's eyes held a glint of recognition. "My Lord, you know this creature?"

Romarin nodded once. "Aye, I do. Haegl, why have you come to Caer Sithar?"

"I sleep now most of the time," Haegl replied. "Only thrice have I awaken since Lachlan's betrayal and death. Once is now and once when you sought my aid."

"And the third time?"

"When I sensed Lachlan's presence."

Silence ensued. Romarin stared into those inhuman eyes as though he might be able to discern what the creature was thinking. He turned to his warriors. "Leave us."

"But my King…" Falar objected.

Romarin glared at the noble.

"Yes, my King." He and the other warriors left.

When they were finally alone, Romarin turned to Haegl. "It has been many years since you and I met. I was younger then, and far more foolish."

"We learn from our foolishness," Haegl replied. "Such is the way of experience."

Romarin smiled slightly. "Certainly, you did not come here to discuss philosophy?'

"No, I came to discuss Lachlan. Allarun is on the move because the Lachlan incarnation is here."

"Here? Now? In Caer Sithar?"

Haegl nodded gravely. "Indeed."

"Who is it?" Romarin asked. "Do you know?"

The creature shook his head. "I am not powerful enough to know this. None of us are. Not you. Not Allarun. We can only guess. Not even Lachlan knows until he wields the Sword of Destiny, Uruz."

Romarin's face became unreadable. "He will be a first-blood of the House of Lochvaur."

"So the Prophecy says," Haegl agreed. "As heir to Elsonre, Lachlan's brother, you are the last of that line, are you not?" Romarin nodded. "So, Allarun will not rest until you are dead."

"Until the Lachlanis dead," Romarin corrected. "We do not know, even now, if that is what I am."

"Allarun is certain. So certain that he has summoned his powers again. Leave here tonight, while you still can, and seek Uruz, Lachlan's great sword."

"No. I will not leave my people."

"They are already dead, Romarin," Haegl said. "You cannot hope to fight what will come in the dawn."

"This is my choice. I, too, am a son of Rhyn'athel. I do not fear Allarun."

The creature's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "You should."

With that, the creature turned to the window and began to change form. The room became warm as the creature grew wings and scales. It slipped out the window and then flew into the sky.

ChapterThree

Shadowhelm ran his fingers lightly along the edge of the gleaming broadsword and a thin line of blood seeped from the cut. He smiled as he wiped the blood from his hands and the blade and sheathed the sword. He looked much different now. He was clean for the first time in many weeks and the red-gold mane shone free from mats. The rags were gone, replaced by chainmail and the red and gold colors of the House of Lochvaur. The High King Romarin's colors. Kalena's colors.

His colors.

"You look fit to rule a kingdom now," Kalena spoke from the doorway. "I would’ve almost mistaken you for pureblood, if I hadn't seen you earlier."

Shadowhelm turned around and grinned. "I told you I looked more impressive."

"You were right," she considered him a moment. "You'll have to cut the mane, if you're going to wear a helm."

"I probably should," he admitted. "But it does make me look more Eleion."

"It interferes too much with the helm, though. You'll be taking your sword to it once you see battle. Even Romarin has to cut his own soon – you wouldn't believe the fuss he made," she smirked. "Said he'd look like a bald rat."

Shadowhelm chuckled and then stared at her in amazement. "Romarin? You mean the High King?" He had never heard a king referred to in such familiarity.

Kalena smiled. "Yes, he's my cousin, once removed."

Shadowhelm paused. "You know, I’ve never given much thought to my lineage, until now. That's why you saved me, isn't it? It's because I'm part Lochvaur."

"You and I are kin in some way – albeit distantly. Technically, you’re a kinsman to Romarin, himself. I couldn't let you hang like a thief."

Shadowhelm was about to reply when a soldier entered the room.

"Commander, the High King wishes to see you at once," he said, glancing at Shadowhelm.

Kalena nodded and then turned to Shadowhelm. "Listen, you have enough here to keep you occupied. See Lieutenant Yi'lar for your orders."

"Aye, Commander," Shadowhelm replied with a slight bow.

Kalena nodded, turned, and followed the soldier out of the room.

Shadowhelm watched them leave and then sheathed his sword. He stood up and strode to the window to watch Kalena and the soldier ride towards the main keep. Instead of heading towards the Lieutenant's office, Shadowhelm walked down the stairs and outside.

It was early afternoon and the storm clouds were already gathering over the mountains to the west. No one noticed the Shara'kai slip into the Quarter and disappear.

###

Kalena entered the ironbound, rune-carved doors that led to the High King's throne room. The air was smoky from oil lamps and candles. Tapestries hung along side the walls, depicting famous battles. They were very old and their colors had faded over the centuries. Romarin had told her once that the tapestries were originally from Elsonre's castle at Caer Lachlanel in the north. Her eyes brushed past the scene of Elsonre fighting the Yeth Hounds after the Battle of Darkling Plain to the tapestry with Lachlan holding Uruz, the great Sword of Destiny, above his head. Each time she saw the image, it had given her hope in these dark times. Now, she wondered if perhaps the Prophecy of the Lachlan was a little more than a fairy tale meant to bolster the courage of a dying race.

Kalena's eyes shifted from the hall to the High King, himself. Many had said that Romarin of the Silver Hand, the Red Wolf, was the Lachlan incarnate. Romarin had never denied such claims, but he had never validated them either. There had been rumors that he had sought the Sword of Destiny in his younger days, but had reported that he could not find it. He had lost his hand in that adventure – no one knew how he had lost it or where he had found the magic silver gauntlet that had replaced his hand. Some believed a great sorcerer or wizard had given it to him. Others said that the dragons from the northern mountains still possessed powers to heal even the most grievous wounds. Whatever had happened, Romarin never said.

Kalena strode to the dais and bowed low. "My Lord," she said. "You summoned me?"

Romarin nodded. "Commander, I’ve received troubling news. Allarun's troops have reached the Rolling Hills. They’ll be here by dawn. They are twenty thousand strong."

"I know, my Lord," she said. "I have all available troops prepared for the siege."

"Would it be better if we met his army before he reached the city?" Romarin asked, recalling Haegl's words.

"No," said Kalena. "We’ve only ten thousand trained soldiers – including the Chi’lan. We’re defensible on the heights – on the flats, it’d be a slaughter, especially if Allarun used magic." She stared at the King in puzzlement. "Why do you ask? Certainly, you knew this?"

Romarin nodded. "Let's drop formalities, Kalena. I've never been comfortable with them. I'm a warrior, not a king."

"Very well, Romarin," she said, shifting uncomfortably. "What’s troubling you?"

"Have you spoken to Falar yet?"

She shook her head.

"Then, you would not know," he mused. Romarin stood up and paced along the dais. Kalena's gaze followed him as he became more agitated. "A long time ago, I sought Uruz," he began. "I thought that I was the Lachlan." He laughed bitterly. His silver hand clenched and unclenched. "I failed."

"What happened?" she wondered aloud.

Romarin met her gaze. "What happened then did not matter. However, on this quest I met one creature who is inexplicably tied to Lachlan, himself. A creature who calls himself Haegl."

"Haegl?" she repeated the name. "What is this creature?"

Romarin shook his head. "I do not know precisely. Some say dragon, but I have seen him in Eleionform. If one were to believe the legends, he helped Lachlan forge the three Swords of Destiny."

"Then he is an ally?"

"Perhaps, but he is also a shapeshifter."

"A shapeshifter?" The words prickled the hair on the back of her neck. "Shapeshifters are treacherous creatures – why would one be tied to Lachlan?"

"I don't know, but he appeared an hour ago. To warn me."

"Here? In Caer Sithar?" Kalena stared. "Why?"

"He says he senses the Lachlan and that Allarun senses him too. That's why Allarun is attacking."

"Haegl believes you're the Lachlan?"

"I don't know what Haegl believes. He says that I should leave now, while I still can."

Kalena stared at the floor for a while, studying the inlayed patterns in the stone. "It could be a trap."

"It's most likely a trap," Romarin agreed.

"Then, don't listen to him," Kalena said. "One failure to find Uruzdoesn’t mean anything. Allarun and Haegl's attentions have turned to you, the last heir of Elsonre. Who else could be the Lachlan?"

Romarin said nothing.

"Our troops are ready," she said. "We'll be ready when the Eltarattack in the morning." She turned to leave, but felt his firm grasp on her arm. She turned and met his gaze. "Yes, my lord?"

"Fair Kalena," Romarin said. "I still await your answer." He gazed into her eyes, searching for a glimmer of promise. He was disappointed.

"My lord, I am your Chi'lan," she said. "I love you as my king and even as my kinsman…" She paused, taking his hand in hers. "Perhaps I need more time."

"Perhaps," Romarin said, releasing her hand. "Or perhaps you wait for another."

Kalena smiled sadly. "Perhaps." She bowed and left.

Romarin watched her leave before turning again to gaze out at the Rolling Hills.

###

Shadowhelm did not relax until he rested against the familiar stone and wood of Charun's boarding house. He stepped over the drunk lying against the stoop and pushed against the well-worn brass door latch. The door groaned as it swung inward and Shadowhelm was soon inside.

Day or night, Charun's was always dark. Its windows had long ago been broken by patrons and had since been boarded up. A waft of stale air, filled with the stench of smoke and sweat, met Shadowhelm's nostrils. He closed the door, allowing his eyesight to adjust to the gloom. If the patrons at the bar had even noticed his entrance, they didn't bother to look. In the new uniform and armor, Shadowhelm looked out-of-place. Even so, he expected the other patrons would leave him alone. He was well-armed.

Shadowhelm had no money. Kalena had not given him any and the guards had taken what few coppers he had when he was jailed. He sat at the bar, but did not order a drink.

"Shadowhelm!"

"Mic!" Shadowhelm turned and grinned, greeting the man with an open hand. Mic was tall and stout, with a mop of graying brown hair, framing a thick, unshaven face. He wore cuir boille armor, darkened and battered from years of battle. He gripped Shadowhelm's hand and heartily shook it.

"Sweet gods, Shadowhelm!" Mic exclaimed, appraising the Shara'kai. "I heard ye were arrested and sentenced to hang." He paused. "But it looks like they found something for you to do."

"I was arrested," Shadowhelm replied. "And nearly hanged. For a crime I didn’t commit." He eyed the man warily. "Buy me a drink and I'll tell you about it."

"With such fine armor – your new friends can't afford to pay you?"

"It's a long story – but one that you might be able to entice out with a few pints of ale," Shadowhelm remarked.

Mic laughed and motioned to the barkeep, who brought two pints. Mic set the mug in front of the Shara'kaiwho took a long swallow of the pale amber liquid. Although not as potent as mead, Shadowhelm's empty stomach made short work of the brew and his head filled quickly with a pleasant buzz.

"As you were saying?" Mic asked.

"How long have we fought together?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Almost two years," Mic replied. "I think it was the Battle of Drunn."

"Aye, it was," Shadowhelm said. "I've been a good free-lancer – as mercenaries go. Honest."

"To the point of fault."

"I was accused of robbing the gold sentries."

"And did you?" Mic looked interested.

"No, but they did find coins in my luggage."

"A set up?"

"I think so." Shadowhelm took another draught. "Who would have set me up?"

Mic shrugged. "Could’ve been anyone. Anyone from someone with a vendetta from some work you've done in the past…"

"Strictly business," Shadowhelm remarked.

"…to a completely random act," Mic finished the sentence. "Our business, my dear Shara'kai, doesn’t make us popular. So, how did you escape the hangman's noose?"

"That’s the strangest part of this story." Shadowhelm recounted his escape and being helped by Kalena.

Mic whistled. "Kalena of the Long Sword. Sweet gods, boy, you walked away from her?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd imagine she fancies you. You do favor your Eleion side." Mic studied the Shara'kaithoughtfully. "You could almost pass for a pureblood in this light."

"I don't think there's any interest there," Shadowhelm said. "Which is a pity. Her interest is my bloodline and perhaps my skill as a warrior. She recognized me as from the House of Lochvaur– a Royal."

"King Shadowhelm," Mic laughed. Shadowhelm glared at his friend, but the alcohol was already affecting him and he joined in the laughter. "Pardon me, your Majesty," Mic said, trying to bow with a flourish while still sitting on the barstool. Instead, he nearly fell off. "Damn, I can't drink like I used to."

"No, you just can't hold it like you used to," Shadowhelm snorted. "How many is this?"

"Five – I think," he replied. "Counting this one."

"Planning on killing the enemy with your breath tomorrow?" Shadowhelm laughed as he quaffed the rest of the ale. "Unworthy peasant – I command another round."

Mic snickered. "Aye, my liege." He signaled the bartender for another round. "Now, where were we?"

"Kalena."

"Ah yes, Kalena. You know, her motives for taking you under her wing wouldn't matter. She's closest to the High King, himself. That one has influence. She could make you quite powerful."

"I'm not interested in power – especially in this hell hole," Shadowhelm remarked. "And I'm not fighting for this scrap of land either. I've seen a little too much of the locals' 'hospitality' for my tastes. What do I care if Allarun razes this dump to the ground?"

"You may not have a choice. The gates are closed and the army is on full alert – you've heard Allarun's army is approaching. The King has issued double pay for any freeman willing to fight. Even if you didn't fight, you're trapped here anyway. Might as well make some money."

"Shock troops – dirty business."

"The pay is good."

"I'll figure a way out," Shadowhelm replied, finishing the second pint. "Loan me some money for some food and a bed tonight – I'll pay you back later.”

Chapter Four

"I do not trust him."

Lachlan, the Son of Rhyn'athel, turned to meet the speaker's gaze. In that dim ruddy light, his eyes seemed to glow with an ethereal fire. Lachlan met the Firedrake's gaze. "Why not, Haegl?" He puts his trust in you."

The black dragon blinked slowly, carefully considering his words. He was a large worm, even when compared to the ancient ones. He loomed over the large walled tent they stood beside and made the air stifling hot. Black scales covered red-hot skin that glowed like embers. He flexed his talons slowly and then shook his massive head. "A dragon is a known adversary," Haegl remarked. "We are bound by older magic than Eleion, you know that. If we give our word, our word binds us. Not so with Eleion or Ansgar."

Lachlan smiled wryly. "Yet, you trust both Elsonre and myself."

"Indeed, and it may be a foolish trust. For if you choose to ally yourself with Allarun, then I fear we will not live long enough to regret the choices we've made."

Lachlan laughed. A powerful Eleion, hardened from years in battle, he stood face to face with the black dragon. Like all from the House of Lochvaur, his hair was red streaked with gold and his eyes were silver. He wore the armor of a warrior – only the gold circlet around his head marked his rank. "Old Friend, can't you trust the Alliance of Swords?"

"Allarun is not pure Eleion as you are not," the Dragon replied. "He has a god's blood in his veins, though which god, I cannot fathom. I do not trust him, as you should not."

"All the more reason for an alliance," Lachlan said. "The Swords of Destiny tie us more closely. Elsonre holds one, I hold the other; who else could wield the third?"

The Dragon's slitted pupils narrowed. "I would, if I could. But only those with the power to do so can wield the Swords."

###

A rumble like thunder woke Shadowhelm from the dream. Half asleep, his mind wove thunder into the dream. The next rumble was an explosion that shook the bed he lay on. Disoriented, he leapt to his feet, sword in hand. The next sound he heard was screaming.

Shadowhelm had been too tired and inebriated to bother removing the chainmail – for this he was thankful. The headache that followed the ale he could do without. He opened the door and was greeted with heat, heavy smoke, and flames. A number of patrons fled down the hall towards the stairwell. "What's happening?" he shouted to no one in particular.

No one answered. Instead, another explosion rocked the inn, throwing him to the floor. When Shadowhelm looked up, he saw that the stairwell had disappeared. Smoke and flames filled the hall. He turned around and found that the rest of the hallway had collapsed.

Shadowhelm found himself looking into the night's sky. Clouds of smoke hung over Citadel Heights, reflecting the angry red flames below. The entire city was on fire. Overhead in the smoke-darkened skies, Shadowhelm could see large bat-like creatures swooping down towards the city and belching flames.

Dragons.

Shadowhelm scrambled over the shattered rafters and bits of roof to the end of the hallway. The second story had partially collapsed and he clambered down the ruins to the street below.

The world was in chaos. People were fleeing the Quarter in terror, but there was no place to go. Instead, the people ran panic stricken in all directions, looking for any shelter. The Keep and the Garrison were in a heap of rubble.

One large dragon swooped overhead, belching flames toward this section of the Quarter. A volley of arrows flew from archers along the curtain wall. The dragon turned its thick scaly hide towards the volley and the arrows snapped harmlessly on the scales.

The dragon turned on the soldiers defending the wall walk and slammed its spiked tail into the allure and merlons, breaching the wall. Shadowhelm could see the dark forms of men fall from the wall in the ruddy light. Another salvo of arrows sped towards the dragon from an adjacent wall. This time, the dragon could not turn as quickly and screamed as an arrow penetrated its eye. It plummeted to the ground in a fiery ball right into the Quarter before Shadowhelm and destroyed part of the curtain wall that protected it.

A black tide of soldiers stormed in, but Shadowhelm could see the shock troops rush to meet them. Mercenaries and brigands, Shadowhelm thought and felt a pang of remorse. Mic would be among them. Shadowhelm could not see how anyone could live through that. But he and Mic had seen worse battles, albeit not with dragons. He was tempted to find Mic and try to convince the old mercenary that it would be better to forget about the money and let the city burn. But, he knew that was useless. Mic was a professional. He'd fight to the death, if necessary.

This isn't my war, Shadowhelm reminded himself. Less than a day ago, Citadel Heights was all too willing to hang him. His main concern was how he was going to escape without being killed. He scanned the curtain walls, looking for a possible unnoticed breach, but the dark and smoke made it almost impossible. The west wall – the wall that faced the mountains – was the shortest wall and unlikely to receive much notice.

But how to get to it was another matter. The smoke was thickening, making it difficult to breathe. Shadowhelm chose a street that appeared to head towards the western wall, only to have it turn south and become choked with smoke. He cursed the city and the damned Quarter. He'd never get out at this rate. He turned around and headed back towards the main street where the inn had been.

Another dragon swooped towards him overhead. Shadowhelm cursed again, wishing fervently that part of his issue had been a longbow. His sword was useless against the firedrake unless it came for him on the ground. Still, Shadowhelm drew it as the creature flew towards him.

The dragon's vision was excellent even in the dark and the smoke. It immediately saw Shadowhelm and turned in mid air. Shadowhelm dove behind the rubble as the dragon spouted hot flames towards him. He peered from behind the smoldering slag – all that was left of the rubble he had sought safety behind and moved to the next mound. This time, the dragon circled around, hoping to get behind the Shara'kai. But Shadowhelm had already moved.

Keep moving – don't be a target,said a voice inside his head. Force it to fight on your terms.

The dragon screamed in frustration and belched another column of flame at him. This time, Shadowhelm barely made cover and his cloak caught fire. He tore the cloak off and threw it to the ground. He dove behind another pile as the dragon angled its hot breath towards him. This was getting downright annoying. Do they ever give up? he wondered. He had a dreadful feeling they didn't.

The dragon landed, irritated that its prey was not so easily killed. It wormed its long neck around the piles of burning wood and crumbled stone and brick. Shadowhelm had already left his hiding place, in search of a new one. The dragon spied movement and issued a column of fire towards him. It barely missed and Shadowhelm was near exhaustion.

How in the gods' names did anyone kill these things on foot? Shadowhelm wondered. He looked around for anything that would give him an advantage over the dragon. Nothing tactical presented itself. Still, he had the beast on the ground now, which was slightly better than having it in mid air.

The firedrake turned its head and screeched as something else captured its attention. Shadowhelm turned to see two riders approaching along one of the few stone walls left standing. Shadowhelm recognized one almost immediately: Kalena. He screamed "Go back!" but the din drowned out his words. Kalena, however, already saw the dragon. Both she and her companion leapt from their steeds as the dragon attacked.

The horses went into blind panic. One ran right towards the dragon, the other reared and slammed both Eleionagainst the wall. The dragon grasped one of the steeds in its claws and bit deep into the creature's back, snapping the vertebrae. For a split second, Shadowhelm hesitated; he could escape while the firedrake was preoccupied. Instead, he charged straight for it.

The dragon had forgotten about him. Having made a quick meal of the horse, its attention was on the two Eleionnow. The horse had injured both when it had slammed them into the wall. Kalena's companion could barely stand, but held the sword in a strong defensive position. Kalena stood before the man, her hands gripped solidly on her sword's hilt.

Shadowhelm yelled as he swung the blade into the underside of the dragon's throat. For a terrible moment, the dragon turned to meet his attack, but the blade entered the soft underside. The firedrake tried to scream, but the very force of the charge had buried the sword up to its hilt. The blade sliced arteries and veins and the dragon shook its massive head. Shadowhelm was thrown hard into the wall and fell unconscious.

Chapter Five

Quite impressive, said a voice.

Shadowhelm awoke to darkness and pain. The headache he had earlier that day was nothing compared to the pounding he had now. Every nerve in his body screamed in sheer agony and moving caused even greater pain. He was certain he had broken bones: it hurt to breathe and his left leg throbbed unmercifully. But pain meant that he was alive.

Shadowhelm was thirsty too. His throat felt dry and scratchy and had that familiar coppery taste. Blood. His blood. He could smell the dampness, the earth, and even the rocks. Cold air entered his lungs as he took shallow, painful breaths. The air had a musty taste to it. I must be in a cave, he thought. Though why, he had no idea. Perhaps after he fell unconscious, a dragon had carried him to its cave for later dining.

He moved his fingers and felt warm fur. Certainly, the dragons wouldn't have left him a blanket or any sort of comfort. He tried to listen above the throbbing buzz in his ears and see forms within the darkness. Had he heard a voice or simply imagined it? In his state, Shadowhelm wasn't surprised if his addled brain had thought he heard it.

No, you heard me, Shara'kai.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Shadowhelm rasped. In the darkness, he could just make out a form of a large creature. The features came together and Shadowhelm saw that he was looking in the eyes of an enormous wolf or dog. Shadowhelm moved his hand to look for his sword, but pain shot through him.

Be still and I will heal you. The creature loomed over him and Shadowhelm felt the hot, meaty breath against his skin. Shadowhelm tried to move away but found himself unable to do so.

I am at the mercy of a wolf. To escape from dragons to be eaten by a gigantic wolf, Shadowhelm thought dismally. He steeled himself as he felt the hot breath pass over his neck, expecting to feel teeth at any moment.

Instead, Shadowhelm's mind began to clear and the pain dulled. The buzzing left his head and he began to breathe without pain. He sat up and touched the wolf's shoulders as it stood over him. The creature felt warm and real enough. Shadowhelm buried his cold fingers in the animal's fur. "Who are you? What are you? Where am I?"

The wolf considered Shadowhelm with its yellow eyes. I am Ni'yah, the creature said. Your people are not far.

"My people?" Shadowhelm mused.

The army from Caer Sithar.

"Citadel Heights?" Shadowhelm looked bewildered. "Why would they save me?" Had Kalena saved him after he killed the firedrake?

The wolf nodded slowly.

Shadowhelm stared. You can read my mind?

It's not hard, Ni'yah remarked. Your thoughts are unguarded. The wolf carefully licked his front paws and then settled down beside the Shara'kai. It seems you saved the life of the High King. Quite impressive.

"The High King?" Shadowhelm asked and then his mind returned to the battle. There had been another warrior with Kalena. Could that had been Romarin?

The wolf stood and sniffed the air. We will talk later. You have much to learn, Shara'kai.

Shadowhelm awoke to darkness. It was cold and damp. At first, he thought he was in the great cavern where he had dreamt about Ni'yah. But Shadowhelm had hid in caves before and this smell different. The caves smelled of earth, dampness, and stone. This place had a familiar stench too: one of fear, dying, and decay.

Shadowhelm's mind lingered on the wolf. Had the wolf been a dream? It had felt real, but Shadowhelm knew better than to trust his addled brain. The fight with the firedrake had thrown him into the wall and he was certain that he suffered a concussion. Shadowhelm shifted and felt pain, but unlike the dream, the pain was one of bruises and sore muscles – not the sharp agony of broken bones. Perhaps he had escaped serious injury after all.

"Shadowhelm?"

He nearly jolted upright, but his body reminded him of the abuse. His head pounded fiercely and he slowly turned towards the speaker. Shadowhelm couldn't see in the darkness, but the voice was familiar. "Kalena?" His voice came out in a croaky rasp.

"Yes."

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Sehduk's keep." Her voice was toneless.

Sehduk's Keep. Shadowhelm tried to comprehend her words. Sehduk…Areyn Sehduk? He tried to will away the pounding in his head, but to no avail. But, the name was familiar. Very familiar. The realization slowly filled his brain. "We've been captured."

Kalena's silence affirmed his fears. Shadowhelm frowned and silently cursed his Shara'kaivision. If he had been a pureblood, he would be able to see that he was in a cell by now. Instead, he would have to wait until his eyes focused. "What happened?" Shadowhelm asked.

At first, he thought that Kalena would not answer him. But, after a long time, she spoke. "Romarin and I were riding towards the west walls when the dragon attacked. You saved us both. After you were knocked unconscious, we took you towards the west wall, but Vaurgar, Allarun's son, was waiting for us. We were captured."

"So, it wasRomarin," Shadowhelm wondered aloud, remembering the wolf's words. "What of the army?"

"I don't know."

Shadowhelm felt a knot grow in his throat. "Where’s the king?"

Silence greeted him.

Shadowhelm stared in Kalena's direction and could make out her form. She was motionless. "Kalena?" he ventured.

"Romarin was captured with us."

Shadowhelm closed his eyes and let his head lay back on the damp stone. He knew he should have followed his instincts to leave Citadel Heights. As a mercenary, he had been in many bad situations, but none as grim as this. "Do you have any water?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

Shadowhelm sat up again, hoping that the headache's roar would eventually diminish. He stared at the cell door – something he hadn't noticed until now. The cell, itself, was only a six by six room. The door was oak and bound with iron. About two thirds of the way up, there was a two-inch by three-inch hole cut so the guard could watch them – if they were deemed worthy of watching. The hole was slightly less dark, suggesting that there might be light in the corridor beyond.

Shadowhelm studied the door and found that there was no interior locking mechanism. He slowly stood up and felt along the doorway and walls. The walls were rough-hewn stones with thick edges he could grip with his fingers. He heard a soft rustle behind him and saw Kalena standing beside him. He raised a finger to his lips; she nodded, her eyes were better than his in the darkness and caught the gesture.

"What are you looking for?" she whispered softly in his ear.

Shadowhelm could feel her breath along his neck as he let his fingers glide along the door, but kept himself focused. "Confirming my suspicions," he whispered back. "This is an old-style bar mechanism." He peered out the hole into the darkness beyond. "If I had a rope or a string or something to catch the latch on the other side, I might be able to open this."

Kalena chewed her lip thoughtfully. "The lacing on our armor could work as a rope, but a hook?"

"Our armor," Shadowhelm said.

"How?"

"Check my armor for a rent," he whispered. "If there's a broken link, I might be able to use it as a hook."

Kalena nodded and ran her hands down his back. It did not take long. "Here," she whispered pulling several links out. "They're small though."

Shadowhelm felt the small links in his hand. They were maybe a half-inch wide. He carefully separated one link and handed her the others. "Keep these," he whispered. He gently pulled the link wire apart.

"It's awfully small," she remarked. "Do you think it'll work?" She handed him some leather lacing.

"I don't know." Shadowhelm frowned as he knotted the leather lace on the wire. The chain link felt light on the end. He knotted it again and tested the knots. "That will have to do," he whispered. He peered through the hole and quietly snaked the line down.

Kalena knelt down beside him and pressed her ear against the door. She glanced up once and nodded. Shadowhelm continued to slide the chain link towards the lever. He felt it catch and pulled it up. The line jerked and the ring bounced free, rattling loudly on the door. Kalena looked up and Shadowhelm shook his head. Again, he felt the link catch and again, when he pulled, it bounced free.

Kalena glared.

Shadowhelm ignored her. He felt the ring catch again. He pulled slowly and felt the latch move.

At that moment, he felt Kalena's hand grip his leg. Then, he heard it: footsteps.

Chapter Six

Romarin awoke to darkness and pain. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth and he sought to swallow, but his mouth was dry. His arms ached and were almost numb. He had been dreaming again, but the dream was fading even as the pain took hold of him. What was it? He was cold. Yes. Cold. He tried to focus on the dream. There were wolves. And another. His brother, perhaps.

Romarin shook his head. He had no brother. Yet, the dream persisted.

A laugh brought him from half-sleep to wide-awake. I see you are awake, the voice said.

Romarin opened his eyes and tried to focus. The voice was familiar, somehow. His left wrist ached and he tried to move his hands, but realized that his arms were outstretched and shackled. The light was dim and ruddy, but he could see well enough. Romarin was in a room that could only be a torture chamber or what might be euphemistically called an interrogation room. He scanned the table with various torture implements and the hot fire and flue. His eyes then focused on the dark figure that stood beside him. "Allarun?"

"Don't flatter yourself," the Eltarsaid. As Romarin's vision became more focused, he realized that the man who stood beside him was far younger than Allarun would be. Of course, Allarun was older than this Eltar– than any Eleionwould be. Romarin suspected that Allarun would show his age.

"Who are you?" Romarin noted his voice came out more as a raspy croak rather than the strong, unwavering tone.

"I'll ask the questions," the Eltarreplied.

He strode to the fire and slowly drew a glowing red iron. "Why don't we start with a simple question – are you Lachlan?"

"Ask Allarun," Romarin replied.

The Eltar'sfeatures darkened. "Don't toy with me, Lochvaur. I still have your kinsmen to interrogate…" He held the poker close to Romarin's face.

Romarin remained impassive and met the Eltar'sgaze. He's bluffing.

"Are you the Lachlan?" he pressed.

"Can't you tell? Or does Allarun always send his second-rate lackeys to do his dirty work?"

The Eltar'ssneer turned into a snarl. He raised the poker to strike Romarin.

Enough, Vaurgar.

Romarin looked around for the source. The voice was not audible, but in his head. Mindspeak. Only the most powerful Eleioncould use it. And now Romarin realized that the first voice he had heard was the same one he heard now. Allarun had been here all along, watching, waiting…

But for what?

Vaurgar lowered his arm and withdrew, not bothering to hide the snarl on his face. "Yes, my lord," he said.

A figure emerged from the darkness. More of a skeleton than an Eleion, Allarun walked slowly towards Romarin. The Dark Lord was thin and deathly pale, Romarin could hardly believe this was the great warrior who had killed Lachlan so long ago. The powers of darkness have done this to him, Romarin realized. His immortality came at a dreadful price.

"You think me hideous – weak," said Allarun, his voice a shadow of the voice that Romarin had heard in his mind.

Romarin made no reply. His gaze met the sunken dark orbs. Allarun should have died long ago. If this is the price of immortality, I'd have none of it.

"Romarin, how nearsighted you and your kind have always been," Allarun said with a cold smile. "Elsonre was always arguing against the sheer power of the Swords. Lachlan too never realized his full potential. Pity." He raised a hand and ran his bony fingers against the translucent skin. "This is just a shell – a shell for power beyond anything this world has yet seen."

"Power – for what?" Romarin spat. "You own all that is left of the civilized world. Citadel Heights was perhaps the last free bastion. The Eleionare a dying race and the nine great houses are no more. You've won and yet you still seek. What is it you want, Allarun?"

Allarun smiled coldly. "Lachlan. And now, I believe, I have him."

###

Kalena tried to steady her breath as the footsteps came closer and peered out the tiny portal. She could see torchlight play and shadows of men along the damp walls before the guards came into view. Two men strode to the door. They were like the soldiers who captured them: dark manes, dark eyes, sallow skin.

Pale. Death pale, she thought as she stared into those dark eyes. They were Eltar. Kalena knew Eltarwere Eleion, but she could not accept the inhuman creatures that stood before her as kin. Murderous betrayers,she thought.

"Stand back, Lochvaur," the first guard said.

Kalena kept her eyes locked on the guard's gaze as she backed away. The door swung open and the first guard raised his torch. "There were two of you – where's the other one?"

"He escaped," she said evenly. "He unlatched the door and locked me in when he heard your footsteps. He went down the hall to the right."

"He won't be far," said the second guard and drew his sword. He strode down the hallway.

"You – come with me. Allarun wishes to speak to you," the first Eltarsaid.

"Where's Romarin?" she demanded, slowly backing away.

The guard stepped forward. "Come with me, now!"

At that moment, Kalena's gaze flickered upward. Shadowhelm dropped from the wall onto the guard.

The guard shouted once before Shadowhelm's weight knocked the guard to the floor. The Shara’kaigrasped the man's head in his hands and snapped the neck with a quick motion. Footsteps answered the cry. Shadowhelm drew the dead man's sword and charged out of the cell with Kalena behind him.

The second guard met Shadowhelm's attack but was no match for the Shara'kai'sfighting skills. Shadowhelm's sword cut into Eltar'sneck. The second blow struck deep into the chest. The guard dropped his sword with a clatter and collapsed.

Kalena picked up the fallen torch and caught the second sword as Shadowhelm tossed it to her. "We've got to get out of here," Shadowhelm said. "Do you know anything about this castle?"

"No," she shook her head. "We're in Sehduk's Keep – no one’s ever escaped."

"That's comforting." Shadowhelm retrieved the other torch and motioned her forward. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"We can't leave without Romarin," Kalena said.

Shadowhelm frowned. He knew that Romarin was most likely dead, but did not say this. He knew Kalena wouldn’t leave without Romarin and Shadowhelm wasn’t willing to leave her to her fate in Sehduk’s Keep. Chi'lanor not, it'd be an instant death sentence if they parted. "Where would Romarin be?"

"With Allarun most likely."

Shadowhelm nodded grimly. Of course, he thought. "Let's go."

Chapter Seven

"If he is Lachlan, he hides it well," Lila said softly. The witch lay naked on his bed, her body stretched enticingly before Allarun. Allarun watched in appreciation, but his mind was not on her. As tempting as the invitation was, Allarun knew that the witch teased him. There would be plenty of time later for amusement after he had found Lachlan. And then he would kill her as he had all his previous consorts.

"Romarin is not as he seems, but what he is, I cannot say," Allarun said. He began pacing. "He is the son of Rhyn'athel – he bears the dragon mark. But if he is the Lachlan incarnate…" Allarun shook his head.

"Any son of Rhyn'athel is dangerous to you," Lila said. "You should kill him now, regardless of whether he’s Lachlan."

"Perhaps," Allarun said. "But I must learn if he’s Lachlan. If he’s not, then there may be another waiting."

"If you kill all the Lochvaur, Lachlan cannot return."

Lila's comment made a certain amount of sense, but Allarun was not convinced. He paced slowly, ignoring her teasing movements. "Perhaps you’re right," he said at last. He turned to her. "Leave now."

Lila stared for a moment as if she had not heard him correctly. "Leave?"

"Now."

She slid from the bed and wrapped a robe around herself. "My lord, will you summon the dark powers?"

"Leave NOW."

Lila shrank at the rebuke. Without a glance, she scurried out of the chamber.

###

Shadowhelm and Kalena checked each cell in their block, hoping that they might find Romarin or one of their kinsmen inside. But no one was there – just dampness and decay. After opening the last cell, Shadowhelm realized that wherever Romarin was, he wasn’t being kept on this level of the dungeon. He hadn’t said anything more to Kalena about the folly of looking for the king, for he expected half the Keep's garrison to bear down on them. But after several minutes of searching, no soldiers had come and Shadowhelm suspected that none would appear until the next shift when the other guards were missed.

The torches were dying and cast faint shadows on the walls. In a few minutes, it would be dark again. They had to get out soon or risk being captured again or killed.

"Kalena, Romarin's not here," Shadowhelm said finally. "Wherever he is, he's not on this level."

The Chi’lanbit her lip and her eyes hardened. "We must find him," she said. "We can't leave Romarin in Allarun's hands. Allarun will kill him."

"Romarin could be dead already."

"He's not."

"How do you know?" The words stung as they left his mouth and Shadowhelm wished that he hadn't said them. Kalena stiffened and her eyes became as hard as steel in the dim light.

"I know," she said. "With or without you, I will find Romarin." She turned away to hide her anger. "We've got to find him – he's our only hope."

Shadowhelm stared for a long moment. The torches began to fizzle out and the darkness seemed to swallow up what was left of the light. "I don't understand."

"How would you? You're a Shara'kai."

Shadowhelm bit back a retort. "OK, I am a Shara'kai – and not much better than a thief – in your eyes. But I am also of the House of Lochvaur. What is special about Romarin – besides being the High King?"

A silence ensued. Kalena refused to face him. He could hear her breath come out in rasps as she fought to still the anger.

"Kalena?" he asked, this time more gently. Shadowhelm gripped her by her shoulders and turned her to face him. Her large eyes stared into his, but her face was still a mask of anger. "Kalena – I need to know what is going on."

"Have you heard of the Prophecy?" she asked.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "No. Remember, I'm just a dumb Shara'kaifree-lancer."

Kalena tried to turn away, but Shadowhelm did not release her. Eleionwere not as strong as Shara'kaior Ansgar and she couldn't pull from his grasp. "Very well, I will tell you," she said and he released her.

"Almost a thousand years ago, the Eleionwere powerful warriors and Lachlan was the greatest Eleionwarrior who ever lived. He was the son of Rhyn'athel, the warrior god. He and his brother, Elsonre, united the Eleionclans, as they never had been. Romarin comes from Elsonre's line," Kalena said. "Lachlan made a fatal mistake – he trusted a young Eltar king named Allarun…"

Shadowhelm stared. "But you said that was a thousand years ago – Allarun is alive here and now."

"Yes, Allarun is the son of Areyn Sehduk, the god of destruction. Allarun's powers are vast and have kept him alive these years." Kalena shook her head. "They say he is now immortal."

Shadowhelm frowned. "We're up against a god?"

"Not exactly," she said. "But he might as well be if he kills Romarin. I'm afraid that no one else will be able to stop him."

"Why? What does this have to do with Romarin?"

"Allarun used the worst kind of treachery against Lachlan. Allarun convinced Lachlan to forge three swords: Uruz, Eihwaz, and Hagalaz, the Swords of Destiny. Elsonre wielded Eihwazand Allarun wielded Hagalaz. The third, and most powerful, was Uruz, Lachlan's own blade. On the Darkling Plain, Allarun turned the power of the Swords against Lachlan and Elsonre. Elsonre escaped with his life, but Lachlan was slain. Before Lachlan died, he swore to return and vowed vengeance against Allarun. It’s said that Allarun lives in fear of Lachlan to this day."

"Well, that's comforting to know," Shadowhelm remarked.

"It's not funny," she snapped. "Allarun has sought out the Lochvaurbefore. The last Purge nearly wiped our entire bloodline out. If Romarin is killed, I fear all is lost."

"You think Romarin is Lachlan?"

"I don't know," Kalena admitted. "Romarin might be the Lachlan incarnate. Romarin is the son of Rhyn'athel, the god of warriors, making Romarin the half-brother to Lachlan and Elsonre. Lachlan has never appeared in all this time since the Battle of Darkling Plain. Some say that is because Allarun killed the Lachlan's incarnation in the Purges. Still, others who have the Sight are not so certain. The Prophecy states that one of the first-bloods of House of Lochvaurwill be the Lachlan and will wield Uruzagain."

"What happened to the Swords?"

Kalena shrugged. "Throughout the millenium, Allarun has searched for Lachlan and the Swords. Allarun destroyed Elsonre's sword, Eihwaz, in the battle, but no one knows what happened to Lachlan's own sword, Uruz. Some say it was broken and can only be made whole when Lachlan wields it. Others say it is lost for all eternity. The third Sword of Destiny, Hagalaz, the Sword of the Eltar, Allarun still wields."

The hallway had grown dark as their torches’ last embers faded out. Shadowhelm shook his head is disbelief. "What you're telling me is that we're fighting against a warlord that is part god and that the war I've stumbled into is a war that started over a thousand years ago."

"Yes."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because if you don't, your ignorance will kill you."

"I was happy being ignorant." Shadowhelm sighed. "Maybe you should have let them hang me."

"Maybe I should have," she snapped. "Listen, Allarun will hunt you down – just as he has hunted me and Romarin. You're Shara'kai, but at this point, it won't make a difference. He’ll kill …" Her voice trailed off and she turned her head.

Shadowhelm became alert and strained to hear what she had heard. His ears heard it faintly – the sound of footsteps. "Come on, let's get out of here," he hissed.

"Let's leave the torches," she said. "We'll be harder to detect in the dark." She started forward and then glanced back. "What's wrong?" she whispered. "Aren't you coming?"

"As you're wont to notice, I am Shara'kai," Shadowhelm replied. "I can't see anything in this pitch-black hallway."

"Give me your hand then," she said and grasped his hand.

She led Shadowhelm down the dark hall. At first, following Kalena in the darkness was disconcerting. He had no reference except the floor beneath his feet and her reassuring hand. This was not the first time he had wished he were a pureblood. Still, he could not curse the Ansgarside – it had given him the strength and endurance that Eleionlacked.

Kalena halted abruptly. Shadowhelm stopped and drew close. "What is wrong?" he whispered.

"There is a second hallway on the left," she whispered back. "I think that's where I heard footsteps, but I can't be sure."

Shadowhelm turned and looked to his left where Kalena indicated. His eyes had readjusted to the pitch-darkness, but he could barely make out the gray walls nearby. It was darker where she had pointed, suggesting a corridor. He stared into the hallway. As he did, he saw something light-gray flitting close to the ground just barely within his vision. Shadowhelm grasped Kalena and pulled her back from the corridor.

"What?" she hissed.

Shadowhelm realized that he had pressed her body tight against his. Feeling awkward, he released her. "I saw something," he whispered.

Kalena shook her head. "I saw nothing."

"Look for yourself," he said.

Kalena peered around the corner. "Nothing."

Shadowhelm looked again. This time he saw nothing. But, there was something familiar about what he thought he had seen. "Let's go this way," he whispered, motioning down the left-hand corridor.

"I thought you said you saw something," she said.

Shadowhelm gazed into the darkness, unable to shake the feeling. "I can't explain it," he said, "but something tells me we must go this way."

Kalena gazed down first the main hall and then the left-hand corridor. "But the main passage will lead us to the stairs."

Shadowhelm nodded, still uncertain. The feeling was strong, but logically he knew she was right. "OK, lead the way."

Kalena started forward; Shadowhelm followed. They continued down the hall passing the corridor and heading towards the stairs.

"Drop your weapons!"

The torches along the wall burst into flames. Shadowhelm and Kalena were staring at Eltarsoldiers' swords pointed directly at them.

Chapter Eight

Romarin woke, his body shaking from pain and cold. It was dark and the fire from the pit had dimmed to dull red embers and shed little light in the chamber, but he was alone. The last thing Romarin remembered was the pain from Allarun's interrogation and the brutal attempts at breaking down Romarin's mental defenses. Allarun had flown into a rage when Romarin's mental defenses held and had beaten Romarin into unconsciousness.

The chains still held his arms outstretched and the sharp cuts and weals stung with movement. Not enough to maim or kill – just enough to cause pain. Allarun wanted him alive just yet, but for what purpose, Romarin didn’t know. His face was so swollen that he could barely see – blood had encrusted his eyelids and the loss of blood made him weak.

But, he was still Romarin, son of Rhyn'athel. He would not give up his life so easily. He let his gaze fall on the shackles and concentrated. The pins slipped out and the shackles fell to the floor. He collapsed on the cold stone, sticky from his blood, and fell unconscious once more.

###

Shadowhelm felt miserable. He knew that he should have trusted his instincts and taken the left-hand passage. Instead, he had let doubt gnaw away his confidence and had put his trust in the Chi’lan’s sight. Pureblood that she was, Kalena still hadn’t seen the Eltarand – Shadowhelm suspected – had no sense for magic. Odd,he thought, for he had always assumed that Eleionwere magical beings, but perhaps they were like the Ansgar, some born with the power and some not.

Shadowhelm had never used magic, but he did have an innate sense when it came to recognizing it and to predict when it’d be used against him. And then there were those occasional dreams and flashes of insight he couldn’t readily explain...

The guards had shackled him and Kalena together in single file. One guard stood in front, holding the chain; the other was behind Kalena. They were not going back to their cell, he noted. Instead, they were walking down a long staircase, deeper into the dungeons.

Shadowhelm now realized that what he had seen was the wolf. Its gray form had slowly congealed in his consciousness. Ni'yah – the name came to his mind. The wolf in his dream. The wolf who healed him. The Shara’kai myths often spoke of spirit guides– creatures not quite of the world, but not gods either. Maybe Ni'yah had been one of those guides.

Or maybe he was losing his mind, he reflected miserably as he followed the guard. Maybe he was so desperate for anything to believe in this hellhole that he had conjured up the wolf and it had been a figment of his imagination.

Figment of imagination, indeed. He heard an indignant voice beside him. Shadowhelm started and looked down beside him. A large gray wolf strode next to his left side. The beast looked up and grinned.

Shadowhelm stopped abruptly and Kalena nearly ran into him. At the same time, the guard in front nearly jerked him off his feet. "What?" Kalena gasped.

"Don't you see it?" Shadowhelm whispered, looking at the great wolf.

Kalena stared and then shook her head. "See what?"

Before Shadowhelm could respond, the guard in front cuffed him in the head. "Enough of that!" he growled.

Shadowhelm shook the blood from his eyes and looked where the wolf had been. It was gone. Instead, a tall Eltarwearing a general's insignia stood above him. "What is this filth?" he snapped. He kicked Shadowhelm hard, slamming him onto the hard stone again. "Shara'kai!" he spat.

Sharp pain and blood obscured Shadowhelm's vision and he nearly lost consciousness. He drew an unsteady breath in and then released it, trying to clear his head.

"On your feet, half-blood," the guard snarled, yanking the chains.

Shadowhelm coiled and then lunged at the general. The chains held and he was left grasping in mid-air.

Vaurgar laughed. "Let's see how much fight you have, Shara'kai, when you are faced with your own death." He turned to the guards. "Bring them both. Allarun has need for them."

Shadowhelm collapsed again.

"Are you all right?" Kalena whispered.

The guard dragged Shadowhelm to his feet. Shadowhelm made no response, certain now that he had lost his mind.

###

Allarun sat cross-legged on the dais, his eyes closed. His mind drifted through the haze of incense and heady herbs that wafted through the temple. This chamber, far below the Keep itself, was the Temple of Areyn Sehduk. The Temple of Death.

It was a small temple with a dais and altar. No statues lined the dark walls and no gaudy flourishes adorned it. The skulls of those who had given their souls to Allarun and the Sehduk lined the walls in a macabre display. Next to the skulls were the weapons of the warriors who had dared challenge the Son of Areyn Sehduk. On the altar, the dark Sword of Destiny, Hagalaz, lay in its cradle, awaiting its master.

The dais, long ago pitch black, held now a brick-red sheen. Allarun had sacrificed many lives here to keep his powers strong. The victims' blood had forever stained the dark onyx. Allarun ran his hand over the cold stone and smiled. He could feel their pain, their fear, and their hopelessness. The dying often left such lasting impressions. Those who could feel their deaths were few, but their last thoughts and emotions were there, nonetheless.

The Sehduk required sacrifice, even from his son. Allarun's powers came at a price – as they always had. The Sehduk was always hungry for blood. Hungry for souls, Allarun reflected, for each soul Allarun drank made him stronger.

But, there was one soul he could not drink and that was Lachlan’s. Allarun had tried once before when he had killed the great high king. The son of Rhyn'athel was too powerful. In retrospect, Allarun knew that any son of Rhyn'athel would be poison to him. Allarun longed for Lachlan's power, but had to settle with destroying him once and for all.

If Romarin was indeed the Lachlan's incarnation. Romarin had yielded nothing, even under intense torture. Romarin's mental powers were impressive, but then, wouldn't a son of Rhyn'athel have such strength? There had been only three sons of Rhyn'athel before Romarin: Lachlan, Elsonre, and Lochvaur. If Lachlan were to choose a body, wouldn't it be a son of Rhyn’athel, Areyn Sehduk’s enemy?

Yet, a nagging doubt crept into his mind. Romarin still might not be Lachlan. Lila did not think he was and Allarun trusted her judgment. He could look to the god for answers, but the god seldom spoke to him now – not without a blood sacrifice of his enemies. Allarun was loathed to give up such vital energy to receive what was often, at best, an enigmatic answer. The life-force Allarun needed barely kept him alive.

Allarun opened his eyes, resolved on what he should do. It was little matter whether Romarin was the Lachlan or not. Romarin was still a son of Rhyn'athel, and as his son, Romarin was dangerous enough. If Romarin was Lachlan, Allarun would have to destroy the cycle lest Lachlan return in another form. This magic would require blood – the blood of an enemy.

Vaurgar. Allarun smiled. He touched the general's mind and felt the kinship between them.

I have what you seek, Vaurgar replied.

The door opened. Vaurgar strode in. "My lord," he said bowing low.

Allarun stood slowly. "What have you brought me?"

Vaurgar motioned and the two guards dragged the prisoners in. First Shadowhelm and then Kalena stumbled through the doorway. "Lochvaurblood, my lord."

Chapter Nine

Shadowhelm stared into the dark chamber. He fought the fear and revulsion as his gaze fell on the skulls, the weapons, the onyx altar, the black sword, and finally on Allarun, himself. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he gazed on the gaunt figure that stood before him. All around him, Shadowhelm could hear the voices of the dead – pleading, crying, praying for mercy that would never come.

Allarun's dark eyes met Shadowhelm's gaze and the Shara'kai fought the urge to shudder. Shadowhelm felt something dark and hideous grasp his mind and not let go. He stared back defiantly, angrily fighting the presence off. For a moment, the two men kept their gazes locked and then Shadowhelm felt the presence ebb.

Allarun raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. "What have you brought me, Vaurgar?" he repeated. "Not all is as it appears." The Dark Lord walked around the prisoners with a slightly bemused expression.

"They are Lochvaur, my lord," Vaurgar said evenly.

"Yes, and a Shara'kai– most interesting," Allarun remarked. What is your name, Shara'kai?

"Shadowhelm," he replied.

That is not your name.

"Isn't it?" Shadowhelm replied. Again, he felt the mental probe and again, Shadowhelm refused to yield to it.

Perhaps the pureblood knows what it is.

Shadowhelm glanced behind to Kalena. The Chi’lan’seyes were slightly wider, but her face didn’t betray her fear. "She knows nothing," he said, meeting Allarun’s dark gaze.

Interesting. You hear mindspeak, yet cannot use it. Or willnot use it?

Shadowhelm made no response. Instead, he was looking for a way – any way – to escape.

Bring them forward.

Vaurgar shoved Shadowhelm forward and the Shara'kaistumbled against the shackles. The Eltarguard in front grasped Shadowhelm to pull him up. Shadowhelm deftly twisted upward and slipped the chains around the guard's throat, snapping the Eltar'sneck easily. Suddenly, the shackles popped off his arms and legs. Shadowhelm drew the dead guard's sword. For a moment, he saw a flash of the gray wolf as it disappeared through the door like an apparition.

"Shadowhelm!" Kalena shouted. Vaurgar and the other guard rushed forward. Shadowhelm spun around and slammed the sword through Kalena's chains. He turned and met the guard's attack with remarkable speed for a Shara'kai. Shadowhelm leapt at the Eltarand cut deep into the man's armor. The Eltarcollapsed and Shadowhelm kicked the dead man’s sword over to Kalena, who picked it up. He then turned to Vaurgar.

Vaurgar hesitated. Both Kalena and Shadowhelm moved towards him, swords ready. Vaurgar retreated towards Allarun. At that moment, Kalena stared at the dark lord.

"Shadowhelm, Allarun has the Sword!" she gasped.

Shadowhelm let his gaze flicker on Allarun. The Third Sword of the Lachlan, a voice spoke inside his head. A normal weapon cannot match it. Retreat.

Before Shadowhelm could reply, Vaurgar leapt forward and swung his sword. Shadowhelm parried and returned the attack, noting Allarun hung back, watching the two fight. Then, Allarun raised his arms, gripping the dark Sword in his hand. A dark flame issued from the Sword, itself. The fire spread along the ground and formed into figures. Twenty Eltaremerged from the flames.

Kalena slid behind Shadowhelm so that they were back-to-back. "I don’t think we’ll leave here alive," she said. Two Eltarcharged and she leapt at them, her lightning quick reflexes made short work of them.

Three more Eltarjoined Vaurgar in fighting Shadowhelm and three more set upon Kalena. Vaurgar swung the sword downward. Shadowhelm brought his own up to parry when he saw a black fire glimmer along Vaurgar's blade. It snapped the Shara'kai'ssword and the blade slammed into Shadowhelm's shoulder, cutting into bone and sinew.

Shadowhelm screamed in pain and rage. He dropped his sword as the weight of the thrust and the blinding pain drove him to his knees. He heard a shriek – Kalena? He couldn't tell as he fought off unconsciousness.

Very distantly now, he heard Allarun's voice.

"Kill him now!"

###

Romarin awoke to half consciousness. He was vaguely aware of another creature beside him. He felt a nose press against his bare shoulder and felt something tickle against him. It felt like fur.

Rats, he thought and tried to push whatever it was away with his good hand. His hand landed on something solid and warm. Romarin jerked awake and rolled away to see a large, gray wolf standing over him.

"Come, Son of Rhyn'athel, you are needed."

Romarin stared. "Ni'yah?" he asked. "Ni'yah, brother of Rhyn’athel?" He could hardly believe his eyes. Ni'yah seldom appeared to mortals – even Lachlan noted the wolf's elusiveness.

"Son of Rhyn'athel, we do not have much time," the wolf pressed.

"But I am…" At that moment, Romarin looked at his body. The blood and injuries had disappeared and he was wearing armor. He scrambled to his feet. "I’m ready."

"Good," said the wolf. "We haven't much time – you must ride me if we’re to get there in time."

"Get where? Time for what?" Romarin asked as he climbed onto the wolf's back.

The wolf made no reply. Instead, he leapt at the door. Romarin held on, gripping the wolf's fur and bracing for an impact. Instead, they flew through the solid door as though it did not exist. The wolf charged down the hall, deeper into the dungeon's below. At one point, Romarin was certain they flew through solid rock.

"Your kinsmen are fighting Allarun. I fear it may be too late," the wolf said.

Before Romarin could question him further, a dark door appeared at the end of the hall. At that moment, they heard a scream.

Romarin's eyes widened. "We're too late."

"Hang on," said the wolf. "And be ready."

Romarin drew the sword from his belt and braced himself.

Chapter Ten

What happened next, Romarin couldn't be certain. At one moment, he was flying through the air on the back of the wolf into a room crowded with Eltar. The next moment, Romarin was standing over Shadowhelm wielding his sword against Vaurgar. Only Shadowhelm, Kalena, himself, Vaurgar, and Allarun were in the temple; the Eltarhad suddenly vanished. Vaurgar backed away, his eyes wide with fear. Kalena was kneeling beside Shadowhelm, trying desperately to pull the Shara'kai to his feet.

"Come on, Shadowhelm – get up!" she ordered.

Shadowhelm fought the pain and unconsciousness. He could feel Kalena tug on his good arm, but each jerk seared through him. For a moment, Shadowhelm's blurred vision was filled with something else: a large gray wolf.

"Ni'yah?" he croaked.

The vision of the wolf faded and Kalena's face replaced it. "Come on, Shadowhelm!"

Shadowhelm found his senses began to clear. The pain dulled and he could move his shoulder again. Ni'yah. He began to focus on the three men in the room: Romarin, Allarun, and Vaurgar. The two Eltarcircled each Romarin with swords drawn.

Allarun frowned. "So, it is you, Romarin – I should have known." He held the Dark Sword between his hands. "Very well – you can never fully be Lachlan without the Sword, Uruz. And the Sword is no more."

Romarin shook his head, keeping his eyes on the two Eltar. "Your overconfidence has always been your downfall, Allarun. For if I am the Lachlan – as you seem to think – then the Sword Uruzstill exists. The Prophecy will be complete."

"What in the hell is Romarin doing?" Shadowhelm whispered to Kalena. Kalena shook her head. "We are clearly outmatched and Romarin is baiting him?"

"A bluff maybe?" she said. "I'm going in." She drew her sword and started ahead.

"No," Shadowhelm hissed, gripping her arm. "Wait. You can't match either Vaurgar's or Allarun's blades. They'll strike you down as they did me."

Kalena glanced at the three and again at the Shara'kaiand she nodded in resignation. "But what can we do?" she whispered back.

"I don't know – let me think." Shadowhelm shook his head as he watched Vaurgar test Romarin's defenses while Allarun held back. Allarun's waiting; studying Romarin. Allarun could kill him now if he so chose. No normal weapon can match Hagalaz, the Third Sword of the Lachlan. "He'll get himself killed."

Not unless you let him, a voice came from beside Shadowhelm. Shadowhelm looked down to see the great wolf resting beside him. Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena, who seemed oblivious of the wolf. She can't see me – no one except you and Romarin can.

Vaurgar lunged at Romarin. Romarin parried and attacked. Still, Allarun hung back, watching Romarin with interest. Vaurgar parried and their blades locked. Romarin pushed the Eltarbackward, but Vaurgar broke the lock and spun around, his blade slicing into Romarin's shoulder as he passed.

"You wouldn't have an enchanted sword, would you?" Shadowhelm whispered to the wolf. The wolf said nothing, but instead his gaze rested on a sword that lay next to a skull in the wall fifteen feet away. Shadowhelm nodded. He could just see the hilt: gold encrusted with ruby stones. A Lochvaursword. His gaze shifted back to Vaurgar and Romarin and then to Allarun. Allarun's attention was on the fight.

Shadowhelm turned to Kalena. "Keep your sword drawn and keep them off of me."

"What are you doing?" she asked, but Shadowhelm had already pulled himself to his feet and sprinted to the wall. His movement caught Allarun’s attention.

"No!" Allarun shouted, but Shadowhelm focused on the sword. The Shara'kaidid not see the black flames issue from Allarun's sword as he reached to grasp the gem-encrusted hilt.

Hot pain seared Shadowhelm's lungs and he fought for breath. He stumbled and made a last grasp at the sword's hilt. His fingers barely curled around the pommel.

Suddenly, the pain was gone and Shadowhelm found himself standing with the drawn sword. His strength returned and he stood before Allarun unafraid. Both Vaurgar and Romarin stopped their fight, stunned to see the Shara'kaienveloped in light. Shadowhelm locked gazes with Allarun and saw a flicker of something in the dark warlord's eyes. Fear?

Allarun feared no one – or so it was said. Shadowhelm hefted the blade of the Lochvaurand stepped forward. Allarun stepped back. Romarin grinned and charged Vaurgar, taking the Eltarunawares. Kalena joined the fight next to the king, keeping the Eltar general occupied. Romarin's blade slipped through, slicing through armor into Vaurgar's arm. Vaurgar howled and his sword clattered to the floor. Romarin held him at sword-point.

Meantime, Shadowhelm approached Allarun. Shadowhelm swung the blade and Allarun met it with Hagalaz. Shadowhelm felt the Lochvaursword shudder under the power of the Third Sword of the Lachlan, but it did not shatter. Instead, Shadowhelm began to feel stronger, more confident. The Lochvaursword did not hold the power of a Sword of Destiny, but it was in the hands of a Lochvaur – one who was meant to wield it.

"Usurper!" Shadowhelm snarled as he charged forward. Allarun parried blow after blow, fear now evident in his face. "You were never meant to wield that Sword the way you have. Lachlan never intended it to be used in this manner!"

"Perhaps, Shara'kai," said Allarun, fighting to keep his voice steady. "But Lachlan is dead – and so will you be."

"We shall see," Shadowhelm remarked. Shadowhelm caught the Hagalazunder the Sword of the Lochvaurand it spun out of Allarun's hands and into the darkness of the temple. Disarmed, Allarun retreated. Shadowhelm approached Allarun cautiously.

Allarun smiled slightly and held his palms outward. "I am unarmed, Shara'kai."

But not without power. Leave now, a voice said in the Shara'kai'smind. Shadowhelm hesitated. He could kill Allarun now that the dark lord was unarmed. Or could he? Was the Lochvaursword powerful enough?

Allarun smiled as Shadowhelm hesitated. "Do you think, Shara'kai, that little weapon would kill me?"

Leave! The voice roared in his head.

"Romarin? Kalena?" Shadowhelm called.

At once, both Allarun and Vaurgar vanished in darkness. Eltar troops appeared all around them.

Chapter Eleven

The Eltarcharged. Shadowhelm backed away, parrying the blows. There were twenty or more of the dark Eleionin the temple and more issued through the door.

I was not meant to die here, the voice inside Shadowhelm’s head spoke. The words somewhat heartened him and he charged his attackers, slaying the first two.

"Get in a circle! Cover each other!" Kalena shouted. Shadowhelm backed up to close the gap between Romarin and Kalena. Together they circled, protecting each other's flank. "Now is the time for ideas," Kalena shouted above the clash of swords.

"I'm thinking! I'm thinking!" Shadowhelm replied. "Romarin?"

"The Lochvaursword," Romarin said. He parried the blows from two Eltarand attacked, cutting into one of the soldier's forearms. The Eltarscreamed as his severed hand fell to the floor. "Kalena, touch the Lochvaur Sword!"

"Excuse me, but if you haven't noticed, I'm using it," Shadowhelm snapped, parrying another attack.

"That Sword was the Sword of Elsonre – the Sword of the Lachlan's brother. Elsonre forged it later after the Battle of Darkling Plain…" Romarin replied.

"Great – I get a history lesson," Shadowhelm grumbled. An Eltarguard lunged in attack and became off-balanced as Shadowhelm narrowly avoided the blade. Shadowhelm used the pommel to slam the man into the floor and thrust the blade into an attacker. "Can you hurry the story up?"

Romarin glared. "The sword can open a portal," he shouted back.

"How?"

"All our swords will have to touch it. I can activate it."

Kalena gave Romarin an incredulous look. "That would require us dropping our guard!" she shouted.

It's the only way, Shadowhelm heard Romarin's voice clearly in his head. Now!

Shadowhelm swung the LochvaurSword around. At the same moment, Kalena and Romarin whirled around, wielding their swords so that they touched Shadowhelm's sword.

"Alla acnu Lochvaur, ella parthna!" Romarin shouted.

A light shone from the Lochvaursword. With a blinding flash, Shadowhelm felt himself jerked off his feet. He shut his eyes against the blinding light. When he opened them again, he found himself lying in dry grass, looking up at the night's sky. Suddenly, a dark figure stood over him. Instinctively, Shadowhelm rolled and was on his feet, the sword still in his hand.

"I was only offering you a hand up, Shara'kai," Romarin remarked drolly.

Shadowhelm breathed a sigh of relief. His eyes were adjusting to the darkness more quickly and he soon could make out Romarin's features. The Lochvaurking's eyes glinted in amusement. Shadowhelm saw that Kalena, too, sat up and rubbed her head. "Where are we?" she asked.

Where indeed? Shadowhelm scanned the horizon. In one direction, he could see a dark line of mountains, but in any other direction, the plains seemed to go on indefinitely. The cold air of the high plateau felt strangely familiar.

Shadowhelm turned to see Romarin studying him curiously. "This looks familiar to you, doesn't it?" Romarin asked.

Shadowhelm nodded. "I've never been here – but I feel as though I've known this place all my life," he admitted. "Like I've seen it before in a dream."

Romarin nodded slowly. "Yes, I have had that feeling here, many times myself."

"You've been here before, Romarin?" Kalena asked.

"Yes – when I was younger," Romarin said. "Much younger. We are on the Darkling Plain."

An involuntary shiver ran through Shadowhelm.

"Yes," said Romarin. "You feel it, too – as I do."

"Feel what?" Shadowhelm asked.

"This is where Lachlan died."

Kalena stared. "This very spot?"

Romarin nodded. "That sword you hold, Shadowhelm, is the sword that Elsonre forged after the Battle of Darkling Plain. When Allarun betrayed Lachlan, Elsonre's own sword, Eihwaz, was destroyed in the ensuing battle. Elsonre forged this blade to replace it."

"But how did it come into Allarun's hands?" Shadowhelm asked.

A silence ensued. "My stepfather, Nevfaras, was the last to wield this blade," Romarin said quietly. "He died in one of the EleionPurges."

Shadowhelm gazed at the glowing blade. "Then, this blade belongs to you – the heir of Elsonre. No wonder you knew its power – it rightfully belongs to you."

Romarin shook his head. "No, you keep it. You have proven its worth and your lineage. Only first-blood from the House of Lochvaurcould wield this sword. Besides, I seek another blade."

"Uruz," Shadowhelm said instinctively. "Allarun said that you can never fully be Lachlan without the Sword, Uruz."

Romarin nodded. "If I am indeed the Lachlan."

"You do not know?"

Romarin shook his head. "There are many who believe I am."

"I believe you are," said Kalena fiercely. "How else can one explain the visions and dreams?"

"There are others with visions." Romarin gave Shadowhelm an appraising look. "Somehow, Shara'kai, I believe we were destined to meet. You have saved my life more than once and that cannot be an accident. There are other forces at work – powerful forces set in motion almost a thousand years ago."

Shadowhelm nodded slowly. "I don't believe in destiny, but I’ll admit that there is something happening that I can't fully explain."

"The answer lies with the Sword, Uruz," Romarin said. "The Lachlan can only be summoned with that great Sword – assuming it exists at all."

"But you told Allarun that the Sword had to exist," Kalena objected.

"If I werethe Lachlan," Romarin replied evenly. "We don't know."

Shadowhelm sat down and gazed into the night's sky. "Prophecies," he muttered in disgust.

Kalena sat beside him. "You don't believe in the Prophecy or the Lachlan? After everything we've been through?"

Shadowhelm gave Romarin a calculated look. "No," he said slowly. "I'll admit that what we've been through has been very strange – but I’m not convinced that the hand of gods or demons or whatever are involved. The events we've been caught up in are very extraordinary – I’ll grant you that. But I do not believe in Rhyn'athel or Areyn Sehduk or the Lachlan for that matter."

"How dare you…" Kalena began, but Romarin laughed.

Both Kalena and Shadowhelm stared at the king. Romarin shook his head. "I envy your determination, Shara'kai. Believe what you want, it won't matter. Allarun is still here and still looking for the Lachlan's incarnation. Allarun will not stop until we’re all dead – that is certain. Call him a madman if you wish, but he’s a determined madman and one who is acting on the pretense of the Prophecy most certainly as we are. How else can you explain the power that brought us here to the Darkling Plain?"

"I’ll grant you that there’s magic," Shadowhelm replied. "I have seen plenty of it in battles I've fought. But I can’t accept a predestined outcome."

"Predestined or not, we’re now in this together," Romarin said. "I believe that for good or for ill, you’re tied as much to this as I am. I suggest we join and work towards finding the Sword, Uruz. For if we go our separate ways, we’ll surely be hunted down."

Shadowhelm sighed. "Now that Allarun knows who am I, I’m afraid I have not much choice, do I?”

Romarin shrugged.

"But where will we go?" Kalena asked. "Our army must be scattered – if not destroyed."

"No," said Shadowhelm, remembering the wolf's words. "The army isn't far."

Romarin stared. "How do you know?"

"The wolf…" Shadowhelm hesitated and then fell silent.

"Ni'yah?" Romarin said and Shadowhelm stared at the Lochvaur in amazement. "I saw you with the god when you pulled the sword from the catacomb."

"God?" Shadowhelm repeated.

"Ni'yah is the messenger of the gods – the brother of Rhyn'athel, himself."

Shadowhelm frowned and stared into the night's sky, but said nothing.

"You don’t believe me." Romarin sat beside him.

"No."

"If I told you that the wolf was twice the size of a normal wolf, would you believe me?"

"He said you could see him," Shadowhelm replied obstinately.

"I didn’t see a wolf," said Kalena. "If what you say is true, the gods have taken interest in us."

"Perhaps this is the time of the Lachlan," mused Romarin.

Shadowhelm continued to stare into the night's sky. The cold breeze blew through the grasses, rustling them across the barren plain. He could feel something begin to gnaw at him – something like the echoes of dying men. He shivered.

"What is with this cursed place?" he said, turning to Romarin. "I can hear voices on the wind."

Romarin nodded. "They are the dead of Darkling Plain. The voices you hear are of warriors from almost a thousand years ago."

Shadowhelm stared into the night's sky again. This time he saw something dark move in the sky. He frowned, trying to focus his eyes on it.

Romarin and Kalena had continued talking, but Romarin noticed Shadowhelm's attention diverted elsewhere. "What is it?" he asked, looking up.

"I'm not sure," Shadowhelm replied, but he was already on his feet.

Romarin focused his eyes. He grasped Kalena's arm and hauled her to her feet. "Come on, let's go!"

Kalena looked up. "What?"

"Dragons!" Shadowhelm and Romarin said in unison.

Chapter Twelve

"Run!" Kalena said.

"Where? We've got to find cover," Romarin replied, looking around.

Shadowhelm scanned the plains. "The nearest forest in miles away," he said. "We'll never make it in time." He drew his sword.

"What are you planning, Shara'kai? Stand and fight?" Romarin asked incredulously.

Shadowhelm shrugged. "I've killed one dragon before. We might be able to kill a couple before they take us."

"That's suicide," Kalena replied.

"It's better than running away like a scared mouse. If I'm going to die, I'll do it fighting," Shadowhelm replied.

"I'm with you," Romarin said, drawing his own sword.

"So am I," said Kalena.

"Good – I have a plan," Shadowhelm said.

The dark shapes took their forms as they flew towards the plains. Shadowhelm briefed both Kalena and Romarin on the plan.

"You think it will work?" Kalena asked.

Shadowhelm shrugged. "It might. But we won't really know until they arrive."

"It won't be long now," said Romarin. "Get in position."

A dark shape flew towards them, blotting out the stars. Shadowhelm stood on the crest of the hill, waiting as the dragon circled. He fought to control his breathing; to calm the fear that threatened to well up in his throat. Fear incapacitates, the voice within him said. Fear kills. Do not let it control you or you will surely die.

The dragon began a second circle and, without warning, dove towards him. Shadowhelm was ready. He leapt and rolled, just as the dragon spewed flames towards him. Shadowhelm leapt up, feeling the flames lick around him and charged down the hill.

The dragon's breath ignited a grassfire. Hot, choking smoke billowed over the Darkling Plain as the dry autumn grass burst into flame. Shadowhelm ran towards Romarin and Kalena, hoping that he could outrun the fire. The wind was in his favor, pushing the fire away from them.

The dragon behind him screamed in frustration. The smoke obscured its vision, forcing it to land and search for its prey on the ground. Shadowhelm kept running, glancing back at the thick cloud of smoke behind him.

"Shadowhelm, look out!" Kalena shouted from somewhere in front of him.

Shadowhelm dove and rolled, narrowly avoiding the flames. The dragon had leapt in front of him.

The creature screamed and snapped. Shadowhelm leapt away from the sharp, scimitar-like canines and backed up, only to be confronted by flames. The dragon blocked one way; the flames, the other. He was trapped.

Suddenly, the dragon screamed and whipped its head around towards its flank. Both Kalena and Romarin had leapt atop the beast and plunged their swords deep between the ridges along the dragon's spiny back. The dragon snapped and lashed its tail, trying to throw the Eleionoff its back. Shadowhelm charged forward, brandishing the Lochvaursword. Shadowhelm aimed for the throat again, but caught the creature's jaw instead. The dragon clawed at him, raking his body with its sharp talons. The force ripped him away from the blade and he rolled on the ground, trying to stay conscious.

Confusion followed. From what Shadowhelm could see, the dragon whipped its head back and forth as if shaking off a predator. Then, he saw Romarin holding onto the creature's neck, plunging the sword deep into its soft throat. Dragon blood sprayed everywhere and the beast collapsed with a final gasp. Romarin emerged, covered in dragon blood. Kalena was not far behind.

"Shara'kai," Romarin said with a grin as he offered Shadowhelm a hand up, "you need to learn how to kill a dragon properly."

"I thought I did," groaned Shadowhelm as he got up.

Romarin studied him carefully. "Are you injured?"

"Just a little banged up," Shadowhelm replied, hoping his voice sounded more positive than he felt.

Romarin glanced at Kalena. "Come here and turn around," Kalena ordered.

Shadowhelm was about to object, but something in Romarin's gaze made him reconsider. Shadowhelm turned around and Kalena examined his back. "Claw marks," she said. "The armor held, so they're not deep, but they're going to make some ugly welts. You're lucky that this isn't a poisonous dragon – you'd be dead by now."

"That's comforting," said Shadowhelm. He walked over and pulled the Lochvaursword from the ground where it had landed, point first in the smoldering grass. "Let's get out of here – Allarun may send more dragons after us."

"Unlikely," came a voice behind them.

Shadowhelm turned and saw the largest black dragon he had ever seen.

Chapter Thirteen

The firedrake was huge – nearly fifty feet tall and two hundred and fifty feet long. Its scales were glossy black, each the size of a man's hand. Its head was enormous and quite able to swallow a horse and rider whole, with long, sharp teeth – longer than a broadsword. The dragon's skin glowed coal-ember red beneath the scales. Its red, slitted eyes studied each Eleionbefore its gaze rested on the Shara'kai.

For a moment, they locked gazes. Shadowhelm remembered the stories of dragons hypnotizing their prey. You are immune to the dragon’s gaze, the voice within his head spoke. Shadowhelm felt a peculiar pull inside him as though the dragon could read thoughts. Shadowhelm pushed away the presence and instead brought his sword in a defensive position. "I don't know what you are," he said, "but you aren't a normal dragon."

No, I’m not, said the dragon. But you are not as it seems. The dragon began to change shape, becoming smaller until it assumed the size of a man. What stood before Shadowhelm was an Eleionwith black skin and red, slitted eyes. "What is your name, Shara'kai?"

"Haegl!" Romarin said, grinning. He sheathed his weapon.

"Did I not warn you of Allarun's treachery?" the dragon said sternly. "Perhaps you will now count me as your ally."

Romarin nodded. "These are perilous times. One seldom knows who can be trusted."

"I'm glad to see you've escaped Allarun," the dragon said.

"You know this creature?" Shadowhelm asked bewildered, still not lowering the Lochvaursword.

"Yes, he is the great dragon from Lachlan's time," Romarin said.

Haegl released Romarin and turned to Shadowhelm. "What is your name, Shara'kai?"

"I am called Shadowhelm," he replied.

That is not your name. The creature considered him. "I can now see why Allarun is worried."

"I don't understand," Romarin said.

Haegl's eyes met Romarin's. "I think you do, old friend. I think you do."

Shadowhelm sheathed his weapon reluctantly. "But you're a dragon – shouldn't you attack?"

Haegl shook his head. "I am not under the control of the swords – I never have been."

"Control of the swords – you mean Allarun controls the dragons through the Sword Hagalaz?" Shadowhelm mused.

"Yes, that is part of the power of the three Swords," Haegl replied. "Lachlan meant their power for more than that – power beyond Allarun's grasp. But Allarun has mastered the control of the dragons – only I am immune to his powers."

"Why?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Because I helped Lachlan forge those very three Swords," Haegl replied. He gazed at the dead dragon sadly. "What waste! My people are being destroyed because of a madman."

"Haegl – we need your help," Romarin interrupted. "My army was scattered after the battle on Citadel Heights."

"Your army isn't far away," Haegl said. "What's left of them are camped in the hills of the Shadow Mountains."

"How many?" Kalena asked.

"A thousand – maybe two," Haegl said.

"Out of a city of over forty thousand," Romarin said grimly. "The army was over ten thousand strong."

"Refugees have headed south," the dragon said.

"The Shadow Mountains," Shadowhelm mused. "It is a fortnight or more on foot. We have no food and no water."

Haegl shook his head. "I’ll take you to the encampment." He turned to Romarin. "There aren't many of us left and what few of my kind remain will die soon unless the Lachlan can be woken. Allarun has tried to hunt even me now – his power has grown."

Haegl then began to grow in size and transform into the large black dragon. He knelt and one by one, they climbed onto the dragon's back, just behind his withers. The dragon's scales were hot and slippery – almost too hot to touch even with a gauntleted hand, but Shadowhelm gripped them firmly. He hoped that he would not slip while the dragon was in midair and did not want to think of the consequences.

All at once, Haegl threw himself into the air.

###

Riding on the dragon was a dizzying experience, Shadowhelm decided once he had gotten over the shock of hurling through the air. Below them, the land raced by at frightening speeds. Shadowhelm held on tightly as they flew over the dark landscape. The welts along his back began to ache with the cold air and the gauntlets offered little protection against the hot scales. Still, he held on as the dragon raced towards the Shadow Mountains.

The hours passed and the sky in the east began to grow light. Neither Kalena nor Romarin spoke, though both sat in front of Shadowhelm. In the distance, Shadowhelm could make out the lights from campfires in an army encampment.

###

"What use is there now?" Mic asked Falar. The burly mercenary looked haggard from the desperate retreat that followed the battle at Citadel Heights. He sat down on the logs that men had brought in to serve as benches. Light from lanterns and a small fire cast long shadows within the cavern. The youngest of the pureblood Eleion nobles, Falar was a golden-hair Redel. He had been one of the few to survive. "Our rations are almost exhausted and the men are unprotected against the bitter cold."

Falar met his gaze. "I do not know who you are," he confessed.

"I am Mic of the Ansgar, commander of the free-lancer forces," he said. "My lord, my men are freezing out there and we have almost no provisions."

"How many?" Falar asked.

"There are about five hundred mercenaries left," said a Shara'kaicaptain. He wore the traditional red and gold of the Chi'lanwarriors. Falar tried desperately to remember the man's name. Ranan? Rinan? Ronan. The name came to Falar. "We have only a thousand troops without them – less than five hundred are Chi'lan."

Falar grimaced. "I thought we had two thousand."

"Five hundred wounded," Mic replied. "Some of them are my men. We need provisions."

"We need Romarin," Falar said. "Has anyone seen him?"

Ronan shook his head. "We haven't seen Kalena, either, or that Lochvaur Shara'kaisince the city was attacked."

"A Lochvaur Shara'kai?" Mic said sharply. "You mean Shadowhelm?"

"Aye," Ronan said. "I saw them last fighting together. That Shara'kaiwas something. I've never seen a braver warrior. A dragon attacked Kalena and the King. That Shara'kaitook the firedrake on and slew it before my eyes!"

"That would be Shadowhelm," Mic grinned. "The greatest warrior I've ever seen. If your king is with him, he’s in good hands."

"Then they still may be alive," Falar said, relief in his voice. "We don't have much, Mic of the Ansgar, but we do have some provisions. Have your men come closer to the ridge in the leeward side to stay out of the wind. We’ll share what we have and plan for our next move."

"Survival should be our next move," Mic said. "It won't take long before Allarun finds us – if he hasn't already. It won't take him long to find us with dragons."

"Agreed," Falar said.

"Alert! Alert!" the watchman shouted on the ridge. "Dragons to the east!"

"Looks like you spoke too soon, friend," Falar said grimly. "Archers to the ridge – hurry!"

###

Falar stood upon the windblown ridge with the archers. Two hundred archers,he reflected bitterly, out of how many thousand longbow men? Some of the mercenaries had joined the longbow men ranks. Still, they were no match for even one dragon.

The dragon was a dark shadow against the sky. Too far for arrows, Falar mused, but too far to attack, either. The flames were a distance weapon, but they extended not much farther than the longbow or the crossbow. The dragon circled once and then flew over the treetops.

###

I see archers, the dragon said in mindspeak.

Shadowhelm strained, but could see nothing by the moonlight. "Do you see anything?" he whispered to Kalena.

Kalena shook her head. "Nothing. Why, do you see something?"

Shadowhelm glanced at Romarin whose face was grim. Can you see if they are our troops? the King asked.

"How could he tell?" Shadowhelm asked.

Romarin glanced back. You can hear us?

"Yes," the Shara'kaisaid.

Allarun has much to worry about with that one,the dragon remarked. Shara'kai, I can see like a hawk, only better in dark. The men who are there are Ansgar, Shara'kai, and Eleion. No Eltar.

Romarin glanced back. "They're ours, then. Take us down beyond the ridge – I don't need for you to take an arrow."

Haegl turned slowly away from the ridge.

###

"The dragon must have seen us," Mic said. The mercenary stood with sword drawn as both he and Falar gazed into the sky. The figure turned and flew out of their vision. "Dragons are easier to slay on foot anyway – you can get to them."

"I don't like it," Falar said. "That worm has something planned."

"Not likely," came a voice beside him.

###

Falar whirled around, blade drawn. The archers and soldiers turned, weapons ready. Before them stood Romarin, Shadowhelm, Kalena, and Haegl who had resumed Eleionform.

"I thought your soldiers were more alert," Haegl remarked drolly.

"So did I," Romarin replied. "Falar! It is good to see you again!"

"And I, you, my king!" Falar said with a grin. "We barely made it out of Caer Sithar with our lives. We feared the worst…"

"Shadowhelm! You old rogue!" Mic bellowed and sheathed his sword. The two warriors clasped arms in embrace.

"I thought you'd be dead by now, you sea scum!" Shadowhelm laughed. "I should’ve known better." He winced slightly under the grip.

"Are you hurt?" Mic released him and he studied the Shara'kai'sexpression.

"A little – but one doesn't come away from Allarun or his dragons unscathed."

Falar stared at Shadowhelm. "You fought Allarun and lived?"

"We were captured," Romarin said. "Kalena and this Shara'kaisaved my life."

"And you, mine," Shadowhelm replied. He met the king's gaze. "A Northman does not take a life-debt lightly."

"Nor does a Lochvaur," Romarin said evenly. "I know not where you come from, Shadowhelm, but you’re Lochvaurthrough and through. Seldom have I seen such bravery or such skill. I give you the sword of my stepfather, the Sword of the Lochvaur, and I call you brother." Romarin strode forward and held out his hand.

Shadowhelm stared at the king, dumbfounded. He felt Kalena nudge him gently. "Go forward and accept it," she whispered.

Shadowhelm clasped Romarin's hand firmly.

"From this day forward, Shadowhelm, I call you brother," the king said.

Chapter Fourteen

"What is he, Lila?" Allarun demanded. He stormed into the throne room where the witch and Vaurgar sat. Allarun brandished Hagalazat her.

Thunder echoed in the chamber and the sword flashed with a dark fire. The witch recoiled in terror as Allarun held the sword point against her pale neck. Lila had seen this anger many times, but never towards herself. She quavered speechlessly, hoping that perhaps the end would be quick.

Allarun drew back his sword as if to strike her down, but instead threw the sword to the floor and sat on the throne. He slammed his fist against the onyx throne's arms. "He was able to touch Eihwaz! Yes! Eihwaz! A Shara'kai! A half-blood!"

"My Lord, I don't know!" she shrieked. She collapsed prostrated before him, shaking in fear. "I have not seen this one!"

"Nor have I," said Allarun, his voice cold and hardened. "By Areyn Sehduk, what manner of creature is this Shara'kai that can wield a pureblood weapon?"

Vaurgar considered Allarun carefully. As a general, he was used to the Dark Lord's tirades and was unimpressed. "Maybe he is the Lachlan."

Allarun's head snapped towards him. "Lachlan?" he asked. "Would my old enemy return in the body of a half-breed?"

Lila remained silent, fearful of his rage.

Vaurgar shrugged. "The Shara'kaiis not what he seems. You, yourself, have said that Shadowhelm is not his name."

"Yes, he isn’t what he seems," Allarun said slowly. "But I cannot penetrate his mental defenses to learn more. Very few have ever kept their thoughts so guarded."

"All of them have been first-bloods of Elsonre, have they not?"

"Yes," said Allarun. "But all the first-bloods are dead, save Romarin. That Lochvaurbitch – the Chi'lan– isn't of Elsonre's blood," he said. "How could I have missed this one?"

"He’s not from these lands," Vaurgar remarked. "He has a Northman's accent, if slight."

"North…" Allarun mused. "The Silrenwere from the North."

"Silvain and his people are long dead – you massacred them on the Darkling Plain," Vaurgar reminded him.

"Yes, I did," Allarun smiled coldly. "Silvain was a fool – he did not trust Lachlan – the one Eleionwho could have saved them. Only too late did Silvain and his kindred realize their folly." Allarun turned to Lila, who was still prostrate before him. "Speak, witch, what do you see?"

Lila shuddered, her dark eyes phased slowly out of focus. "I see nothingness," she said at last. She shook her head. "I cannot say. My vision is clouded."

"Clouded," he repeated. "Because you cannot see or will not see?"

"I cannot," she replied.

Allarun turned to Vaurgar. "Go to Caer Llaen. The remnants of Romarin's army are nearby. I want you to seek out and crush what is left."

###

Shadowhelm groaned as the healer pulled the mail shirt over his head. "Easy," said the healer – a Shara'kainamed Daimhan. "Those cuts are beginning to infect."

"That's no surprise," Shadowhelm remarked. His wounds burned with each movement. He sat in the healer's tent where many injured men lay, recovering from their injuries. The healer had Shadowhelm strip to his waist and then began cleaning the wounds.

Shadowhelm sat stoically, trying to ignore the hot pain while Daimhan washed away the dried blood and dirt from the wounds. "I have some poultices that will kill the infection," Daimhan said. "But you will need food and rest. The cuts along your arms are the worst."

"That was Allarun," Shadowhelm remarked.

Daimhan paused. "And you’re not dead?"

"Not yet, healer," said Kalena as she walked in. She gave the Shara'kaian appraising look. Shadowhelm was a powerfully built Shara'kai, gaining most of his mass and muscle from his Ansgarside, but still retaining most of the Eleionfeatures. The clothing and armor had hid his muscular arms, shoulders, and legs. The best of both worlds, she thought. "He’s stronger than most."

"I can see why Romarin calls you brother," Daimhan replied. "If I had heard the story from anyone other than Romarin, I wouldn’t have believed it. You fought Allarun."

"And paid dearly for it," Shadowhelm replied. "I was careless. If the wolf hadn't been there, I might not be alive."

"Wolf?" Daimhan paused. "Ni'yah?"

Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena in annoyance. "Does everyone know of this wolf except me?"

Kalena grinned. "You Northmen don't believe in gods, do you?"

"ThisNorthman is skeptical," Shadowhelm said. "We are warriors and believe in the way of the warrior. If the gods fight with us, then we give thanks. If not…" He shrugged.

"Well, Northman, I'm not here to chat," Kalena said. "As your Chi'lan, I must now be certain that both you and Romarin are safe."

"My Chi'lan?" Shadowhelm looked quizzically. "I don’t understand."

"You don't understand the implication when Romarin shook your hand and called you brother, do you?"

"I thought it was a great honor."

"It’s more than a great honor," she said. "Of course, you wouldn't necessarily understand. You're a freeman. Romarin has named you his heir should anything befall him. You, as a Lochvaur, now have the rights and titles associated with a prince."

Shadowhelm stared. "What?"

"You didn't know?" Daimhan asked. The healer began wrapping Shadowhelm's wounds with clean bandages. "You will need to rest, Sire," he added with a grin.

"No – I'm a Shara'kai– how could…?" his voice trailed off. Shadowhelm stared at Kalena. "Aren't you next in line?"

"Not necessarily," she said. "And I didn't want it, with all honesty. I am Chi'lanand have always been Chi'lan."

"What about the other Eleion?"

"They aren't Lochvaurblood," she said. "You proved yourself when you wielded Nevfaras' sword. Only a first-blood could’ve done it."

"Aren't you his cousin?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Along a different line – Elsonre was not my ancestor. I couldn't wield the sword – but you can."

"What is a first-blood?"

"An heir of Elsonre," she replied. "Those who are born with Rhyn'athel's blood are called first-bloods. That means any descendant of Elsonre."

"Or a descendant of Lachlan," remarked Romarin as he walked in. "But Lachlan had no heirs." Romarin considered Shadowhelm thoughtfully. "Kalena tells me that you knew not your sire."

"My mother, Elina, was a Shara'kai Lochvaur," Shadowhelm replied. "She died after giving birth, so I know nothing of her past. It is said Elina was a great warrior in her own right, though never a Chi'lan. Elina fought Allarun during the Purges."

"She never fought for Nevfaras?"

"No," Shadowhelm smiled wryly. "Elina held great disdain for her southern cousins." He paused. "Romarin, I think you made a mistake. I’m honored, but…"

Romarin rested his hand on the Shara'kai'sshoulder. "I have made my choice, Shadowhelm."

Shadowhelm met the king's gaze and nodded slowly.

###

Lila walked slowly in the Temple of Death – the Temple of Areyn Sehduk. She had not said anything to Allarun, fearful that her visions might bring his wrath. Lila's mind was full of the dark visions – of the Lachlan who wielded the three Swords. She closed her eyes, hoping the visions would cease, but the bold Lochvaurwho stood before her haunted her there as well.

The Shara'kaiposed a dilemma. Each time, she believed that the warrior wielding Uruz had been Romarin of the Silver Hand. Each time, she had believed that the son of Rhyn'athel had been the Lachlan incarnate. Now, she was not so certain. The Shara'kai'swill and determination, his fearlessness, and even his powers seemed more like Lachlan with each day. If Shadowhelm were the Lachlan, then the Prophecy might be fulfilled.

Lila closed her eyes. She was no fool and had seen her death at the Dark Lord's hands. Allarun's power came from those whose souls he drank. Like previous consorts, she would die a broken shell. Even now, Lila felt the drain on her very life force.

Was it so wrong to want to live?

Within her mind, Lila conjured the image of Areyn Sehduk. The god of death was demonic – a black snake-like worm with rows of sharp teeth and sharp horns and claws. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to see her private vision of the Lachlan once more.

Lila smiled as she allowed herself to slip into the dream-vision. The Lachlan stood resolute as she came to him. His silver eyes seemed to pierce her to her very soul as she wrapped her arms around him, entreating him for mercy. She felt his lips crush her own as he held in an embrace and she smiled coyly as he gave into his deepest desires…

Chapter Fifteen

Shadowhelm awoke in a sweat. The cold air of the cavern made him shiver as the memory of the dream held him. For that moment, he was still in the Temple of Death, holding down a woman he had never seen before and taking her in a fit of passion. The emotions were intense – anger, lust, hatred, desire – and were unfulfilling. The more he tried to sate himself, the more he wanted. And the more he raged.

He felt a light touch and turned over to see Kalena crouching beside him. "You were dreaming," she whispered.

Shadowhelm exhaled slowly, trying to shake the vision from his mind. "I dreamt I was back in the Sehduk's temple," he confessed. "There was a woman there."

"Have you ever had dreams that come true?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "But none were this vivid."

"Really?" she asked. A silence ensued. "Was she pretty?"

Shadowhelm almost laughed, but then caught himself. He met Kalena's gaze. "Beauty is not everything."

Now Kalena chuckled, but she clapped her hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to keep silent.

"Shhh! You will wake the others," Shadowhelm whispered, nodding to the soldiers nearby.

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't be," Shadowhelm said and gently pulled Kalena to him. He kissed her. It surprised Shadowhelm that Kalena did not resist. He kissed her more passionately now, his mind filled only with the desire of feeling her body beneath his. "Kalena, I love you," he whispered in her ear. "By the gods, I have wanted you."

What are you doing?

Deep in the embrace, the memory of the dream flashed in his mind. Shadowhelm hesitated and the voice spoke clearly in his mind. This is not the time, Shadowhelm.

No, he replied. This is Kalena.

Don't be a fool, the voice said. You are still under the dream's influence. Think what you’re doing.

Shadowhelm paused and gently released her.

There will be another time – don’t allow your passions to distract you.

"What is wrong?" Kalena opened her eyes. "I…" she began.

"Shhh! Don't – this is neither the time nor the place," he said, nodding to the guards. His hands stroked hers lightly.

Kalena trembled. "I don’t understand."

"I know – and at this moment, neither do I. Let it stand. We’ll speak more of this in the morning."

Bewildered, Kalena stood up. He could see her trembling slightly as she turned to resume her watch.

###

Shadowhelm awoke the next day, his mind preoccupied with the dream and what had subsequently transpired that night. The dream-woman had been so real as though he had known her before. His reaction to Kalena was troubling as well. As a warrior who had fought alongside women warriors in battle, Shadowhelm knew that those emotions were a distraction – especially in combat. More troublesome yet was Kalena's reaction to his advances. He could have taken her that night like a common wench and sated his desires – but at what cost? The voice in his mind had been right.

Kalena was Chi'lanwarrior. Kalena was also the cousin of Romarin and the commander of the army. If something went wrong now, he would sabotage the only chance he had at killing Allarun. Would he risk everything for one night?

He knew the answer even before he asked the question. Perhaps, when he had been younger and more driven to impulses, he might have. But he was too experienced a warrior to let his passions rule. Kalena was a friend and a warrior first – a lover perhaps at another time. Kings had risked and lost entire kingdoms for women.

"Maybe when all this is over," he told himself. Shadowhelm slid out of the bedroll and found new armor and clothing to replace what had been damaged in fighting both Allarun and the dragons.

As he sheathed the sword of the Lochvaur, he felt the power within the blade course through him. He smiled and wondered if perhaps this was what Lachlan felt each time he wielded the great battle blade, Uruz. His mind kept returning to the Lachlan and Romarin. Was Romarin the Lachlan as so many believed? Or was there another?

Romarin is the son of Rhyn'athel, he reminded himself.

The voice was silent to his thoughts. Shadowhelm sheathed the sword and went to find something to eat.

###

There wasn't much to eat in the army stores. Rations were low and Shadowhelm had to settle for a few pieces of bread and some water. Looking around, he saw that Romarin was not there so he walked to one of the many makeshift benches and sat alone to eat in silence. Kalena walked into the cavern as he was trying to choke down the dry bread. Their gazes met and Kalena quickly glanced away. She turned and spoke with Falar.

Shadowhelm strode over to her. "Commander, I wish to speak to you privately."

Kalena met his gaze and for a moment, he thought she might refuse. "Yes, my lord," she said formally. They walked together into the colder air. "What is it?"

Shadowhelm's gaze softened. "Kalena," he said. "I’m sorry. You must believe me when I say this – what I said and did last night was real. But this can’t continue any further than it already has. Neither of us needs this distraction.”

Kalena pressed her fingers against his lips. "I know, and for the sake of Romarin, we can’t continue."

"Romarin…" Shadowhelm's voice trailed off. He winced and shook his head. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"You didn't know," she whispered. "No one does." Kalena took his hand gently. To his surprise, tears glistened in her eyes. "Romarin loves me – he always has."

"But do you love him?"

"It doesn’t matter," Kalena said. "Romarin is the Lachlan – that I am certain of – and I won’t betray the Lachlan."

###

Lila smiled slyly as she wrapped herself in the thick cloak. She shuddered with pleasure. The memory of the night before and the Shara'kai'spassion had filled Lila with determination. She could feel the power resonate within him as he made love to her again and again in his dream. The raw power, the purpose – everything about the Shara’kai–spoke as one who was destined for something much greater than being a simple mercenary. Lila had once felt that strength in Allarun. But now Allarun was no longer that powerful.

The fortress was quiet now that it was on the midnight watch. The great hall below Sehduk's Keep was dark. Moonlight danced on the onyx floors and walls. Once or twice, the watch guards walked slowly past the main hall. Lila waited patiently for the Eltarto pass before moving forward. Lila looked around, slid out of the main hall, and out the door.

"I could have stopped her," Vaurgar said as both he and Allarun materialized beside a massive stone pillar. "She is betraying you by going to him."

"Let her," Allarun said. "She may well take care of both my problems."

Vaurgar turned. "How so, my lord?"

"Either she will kill the Shara'kaior he will kill her," Allarun said. "Either way, I lose an enemy."

"Lila will kill him? How?"

"She isn't Ansgar," Allarun said. "She’s a life-leech – as was your mother. She can’t survive without taking mortal lives. She finds her next victim through dreams."

Vaurgar shuddered. "And you took this thing as a consort?"

"Oh yes," he smiled. "I learned a long time ago how to control those demons."

Vaurgar gazed at the gaunt face and wondered how effective that "control" had been. "Then she will find the Shara'kai?"

"And maybe Lachlan as well," Allarun remarked. "Although she said nothing, I know she believes that the Shara'kai is the Lachlan."

"And you’re letting her go to him?"

"Why not? Her love is death. If she kills him and he proves to be the Lachlan, then she’s done me a favor. If the Shara'kai kills her, he saves me the trouble." Allarun smiled and paused. "But there is another duty I need you to perform, my son."

Vaurgar waited.

"There is a wolf that needs trapping," Allarun said.

"A wolf?" Vaurgar repeated, not certain he had heard Allarun right.

"Yes, but this is no ordinary wolf – it’s one that cannot be harmed by weapons," said Allarun. "It is none other than Ni'yah."

Vaurgar stared. "You want me to trap a god? Is that even possible?"

Allarun smiled. "Oh yes, it’s quite possible. Even gods have vulnerabilities. I am sending you to the forests around Caer Llaen. He’ll be there."

"But a god?" Vaurgar shook his head. "The powers of Areyn are great, but to capture one of the gods of light?"

"I’ll show you how to capture a god."

Chapter Sixteen

Shadowhelm sat on the hewn logs in the cavern beside Romarin. The skies had grown cloudy, threatening snow and the light was dim. Soldiers had thrown more branches and wood on the fire, hoping that the new fuel would bring added warmth, but like Shadowhelm's thoughts, the wet wood smoldered.

Shadowhelm found himself aloof and distant, preoccupied with thoughts of Kalena. Part of him wanted to confront the King, but another part of him knew that Kalena was as obtainable as the Swords of Destiny. His hand rested lightly on the Lochvaurhilt – strangely, the sword seemed to bring him comfort. Shadowhelm did not meet Kalena's gaze when she sat on the opposite side of Romarin. The other warriors sat on the logs around the fire: Haegl – in his Eleionform – Falar, Mic, and a handful of other men.

If Romarin noticed Shadowhelm's aloofness, he did not comment on it. The king looked grim as he addressed the men. "The battle was worse than I thought," Romarin said. "We have too few troops to fight against Allarun's army."

"Then I have even worse news for ye," Mic said. "My mercenaries are without pay or food. They'll desert soon if they don't receive compensation."

"How many are there?" Romarin asked.

"A little over five hundred is all that's left," Mic replied. He shook his head. "The dragons decimated us."

"That's five hundred out of two thousand total," Kalena said. "We can’t afford to lose them. If we do, we might as well surrender."

Falar shook his head. "But we have nothing to pay."

"What's the nearest city?" Shadowhelm asked.

All eyes turned to the Shara'kai.

"Caer Llaen – but it belongs to the enemy," said Kalena.

"Perfect," Shadowhelm grinned. "We'll take Caer Llaen and the men can get their pay and food there."

"Are you insane?" Kalena asked. "We can't take on a full city. The siege alone would take all winter and we don't have the time."

Shadowhelm chuckled. "I can take that city," he said, meeting her gaze at last. The Lachlan isn’t the only one who can lead you to victory,he thought smugly. "Give me five hundred men – and Haegl."

Haegl stared at the Shara'kaifor a moment. Then, a smile slowly spread across his face. "Pay back."

"Let's see how Allarun likes having his own cities demolished by a dragon," Shadowhelm said. He turned to Mic. "Our mercenaries can get all the supplies they need and a little extra."

"That's looting," Falar objected.

"Hazards of war," Shadowhelm shrugged. "Desperate measures for desperate times. Romarin, if we don’t adopt some of our enemy's strategies, we'll be constantly outmaneuvered, outflanked, and outfought."

"Lachlan wouldn't have approved," Kalena said stubbornly.

"If Lachlan was as great a warrior as you say, he’d have used any means at his disposal," Shadowhelm retorted.

Silence ensued as Kalena glared at the Shara'kai.

"In these circumstances, dire as they might be, I believe Lachlan would’ve done the same thing," Haegl said.

Romarin nodded. "But I can’t send five hundred troops. Can you do this with one hundred troops?"

Shadowhelm paused. He was facing Romarin, but his eyes rested on Kalena. "I might, but they must be on horseback."

"Good," Romarin said. He turned to Kalena. "You’ll go with him. This plan must succeed."

Kalena looked as though she might object, but her silver eyes steeled. "I will."

"I want Mic as well," Shadowhelm said. "If he’d join me in this folly."

Mic laughed. "Shadowhelm, my boy, of course. I wouldn't miss this for all the mead in the Northlands. But, you’d better come up with a good plan."

###

Romarin paced the cavern entrance, staring out at the sun as it crept towards the horizon. Shadowhelm and Kalena had left that morning, but Romarin couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom. It was the Sight, no doubt, but it showed him little beyond a vague uneasy feeling.

What am I to do? Romarin asked the gods. He made a fist with his good hand and caught it with the gauntlet. He stared at the silver fingers – so much his own and yet not. He had never become used to the gauntlet – he could move it as he could his normal hand and feel heat and cold, but it was not the same. Romarin hated the thing and what it stood for – failure.

Yet, time had some mercy. So many years had passed that it seemed as though he had lost it in a different life. Had the failure not been so complete, Romarin might have returned to claim Uruz.

Romarin's mind strayed to Shadowhelm. Shadowhelm had seemed so familiar to him, as though he had known the Shara'kaiall his life. What was more, Shadowhelm had wielded the sword. The Sword of Elsonre. The Sword of Lachlan. Eihwaz.

Only a first-blood of Elsonre or the Lachlan, himself, could wield this blade. Without a second thought, Shadowhelm had offered Eihwaz to Romarin. But for reasons not entirely known to Romarin, himself, he refused the blade. Nor did he reveal the blade's true identity to the Shara'kai.

Maybe it was what he feared.

I am a first-blood. I am an heir of Elsonre.

"That is not the question," a voice said.

Romarin looked beside him to see the great wolf, Ni'yah, standing beside him. Romarin grinned, in spite of his mood. "Old friend," he said softly, glancing towards the other warriors in the cave.

"They cannot see or hear me," the wolf replied. "Walk with me."

Romarin followed the wolf out of the cavern and along the ridge. "What is he, Ni'yah? Is he the Lachlan?"

Ni'yah paused. "Shadowhelm?"

"Yes," Romarin replied.

"I did not set the Prophecy in motion," the wolf replied. "While I see much, I cannot tell you if you or the Shara'kai is the Lachlan. You both may not be." He paused. "But I think that unlikely."

"What does Rhyn’athel say?"

"He waits – he is very patient."

"You're speaking in riddles," Romarin remarked.

"Sorry – I thought I was speaking plainly." The wolf grinned, which looked more like a half-snarl. "This is a war fought between mortals not gods."

"But it is a war between Areyn Sehduk and Rhyn'athel – it always has been."

"Not this time – this is Lachlan's war," Ni'yah said. "Yes, it is an extension of a war fought nearly a millenium ago, but Rhyn’athel didn’t enter the battle then, either."

"But you’re here."

"I am a meddler," the wolf grinned again. "I can’t keep out of this – that’s my very nature. There are others who cannot stay out. But the main players – Rhyn'athel and Areyn – they will not enter the fray." He paused. "Know this – there is another prophecy, a Wyrd-prophecy, much older than the Lachlan's. There will be five sons of Rhyn'athel, no less. Lochvaur was one. Lachlan and Elsonre were two and three. You are the fourth."

"And Shadowhelm is the fifth," Romarin said, instinctively.

"Yes – and Allarun knows it too," Ni'yah said. He paused and snuffed the wind. "You will need to break camp. Allarun's army is a four-day march from here."

Romarin stared. "That close?"

"They are twenty thousand strong. Allarun's magic is growing – I didn’t see this."

"Two thousand against twenty thousand – we can’t hope to win," Romarin said.

"You have allies you know not," the wolf said. "Lachlan did not always conquer. Seek my son – he will help you."

"Your son?" Romarin asked puzzled.

"Rhyn'athel is not the only god with progeny. Seek the Children of Ni'yah – they will aid you," the wolf said. He grinned again. "I have more meddling to do."

Romarin chuckled as he watched the wolf vanish. He stared for a while into the sky, wondering how the Shara'kaiwould fare.

###

The shadows were growing long when the great wolf silently made his way through the forests of Caer Llaen. Always the meddler, Ni'yah had heard Shadowhelm's plan. It was a good plan – one that Ni'yah could help with.

The people of Caer Llaen were on the verge of revolt. The Eltar had pillaged and looted the city and now the people toiled to supply Allarun's great army. Ni'yah knew a few well-placed suggestions might turn the city over to the Eleion'sside.

Ni'yah paused as he crossed the main road that led to the city. Something wasn't right, but in his current form, he could not use his entire powers to sense what it might be. He slipped forward cautiously.

Lachlan.

The word came into his mind and he halted. Vaurgar was setting a trap for Shadowhelm. He will bring the Shara'kai back to Sehduk's Keep so Allarun can determine if he is the Lachlan. Ni'yah turned towards the Shadow Mountains, padding noiselessly through the forest.

Snap!

Searing pain shot through Ni'yah legs, and he rolled on the ground. Bewilderment, anger, and shock raced through the god's mind as he turned and saw the spiked teeth of the trap protruding from his legs and chest. Eltarappeared from behind rock outcroppings nearby. They approached the wolf cautiously at first until it became apparent that the wolf could not free himself.

"Don't bother struggling," Vaurgar said, grinning as he walked towards the wolf. "You cannot escape the trap, nor can you use your powers. That adamantine comes from the Sehduk's realm."

Ni'yah glared at Vaurgar. He found he could not speak, but his meaning was quite clear: If I ever escape, you are dead.

"Is he safe?" an Eltargeneral named Kyr asked as he followed close behind.

"Quite," Vaurgar said, kicking the wolf hard.

Ni'yah bared his teeth.

The Eltarlaughed. "Your threat is meaningless. Come, bring the fetters – Allarun wants him as a prize." He turned to Kyr. "Take what men you need to transport this cur back to Thalarmor. I will travel on to Caer Llaen to prepare for the battle."

###

"It won't work," Kalena whispered stubbornly. She lay prone next to Shadowhelm near the top edge of one of the many dirt fortifications that ringed Caer Llaen. Caer Llaen was a small fortress-city that was little more than a fortified town of a few thousand. A curtain wall rose from older earthen rampart fortifications. Looking beyond the open gate, Shadowhelm didn't see a bailey or keep. Eltarsoldiers manned the open gate, waylaying most that entered the gates.

"This is the Shara'kai'smission, Chi'lan," Haegl hissed. Haegl lay beside them a little farther down the embankment and out of sight in his Eleionform. "Give him a chance."

Shadowhelm did not reply, but instead stared at the gate intently.

"What do you see, Shara'kai?" Haegl asked, sliding next to Shadowhelm. He stared at the gate, but did not see anything remarkable.

"Watch," he whispered. "Look who they let in and who they waylay."

They watched the gate in silence. Eltarguards walked between the peasants and those who tried to gain entrance. The guards checked some; others, they let pass.

"It looks random," Haegl remarked.

"Not entirely," Shadowhelm replied. "Look closer. They let Eltarthrough without so much as a glance."

Kalena watched carefully. "You're right," she said grudgingly.

"Could you make yourselves look like Eltar?" Haegl asked.

"We could dye our hair black – even Shadowhelm would make a passable Eltar– if they didn't look too closely," Kalena mused. "But our eyes – they're a dead giveaway. No Eltarhas ever had silver eyes."

"We'll enter at night," Shadowhelm replied. "We should be able to slip through without anyone looking too closely."

"That's assuming they continue their pattern at nighttime," Kalena mused. "They may have a stricter policy then."

"It's a chance we'll have to take. What would make the ruse complete would be some of that armor," Shadowhelm said thoughtfully.

"Armor isn't a problem," Haegl said. "We can get that easily enough."

"Really?" Shadowhelm asked.

The dragon smiled. "But the problem to your plan will be me – Eltar do not have dark skin."

"If you can get me armor, I can get you through, my friend," Shadowhelm said.

"Riders!" hissed Kalena.

Shadowhelm and Haegl glanced at each other and threw themselves down the embankment. Shadowhelm cursed silently as he rolled into the mud at the bottom of the trench. He pulled himself to his feet and drew the sword of the Lochvaur.

"No, this way!" Kalena said, trying to keep her voice low. Shadowhelm and Haegl turned to see Kalena sprinting away from the road that bisected the trenches.

"Come on!" Shadowhelm said, grasping Haegl by the shoulder and half-dragging the dragon to the embankment where Kalena hid. The hoof beats were now audible and grew louder with each passing second. They had just slid behind the embankment when the riders came into view. Twenty Eltartroops, all on horseback, rode past the three.

Shadowhelm stared at the armor and insignia. "They're officers," he whispered. "What would officers be doing here?"

"Shh!" Kalena hissed.

Vaurgar halted the soldiers before the gates. "Where’s the captain of the guard?"

An Eltarstrode out. "I am Gareth, Captain of Caer Llaen's troops."

"Good. The army will be here in a few days," Vaurgar said. "These men will ready the city for the final assault."

"Final assault?" Haegl glanced knowingly at Shadowhelm. Shadowhelm nodded, but said nothing.

"But, my lord, we haven't the provisions for Allarun's entire army," Gareth objected.

Vaurgar glared. "My army will be here three days hence. You’d better scour the countryside if you don’t have enough provisions for my lord's army."

"Yes, my lord," Gareth replied quickly. The troops rode through the gate.

Shadowhelm, Kalena, and Haegl waited a while before relaxing even a little.

"Vaurgar – that changes everything," Shadowhelm said.

Chapter Seventeen

"We're going to have to notify Romarin," Kalena said. "Our army is in danger. If Allarun's main force is only a three days' march from here, it won't take them long to turn on our army."

"Agreed," said Shadowhelm. "I'll have Mic send a messenger tonight."

"You're not thinking about attacking Caer Llaen now?" Haegl asked incredulously.

"Why not?"

"The army," said Kalena.

"Is three days away," Shadowhelm grinned, wiping the mud from his face. "Even at a force-march, they won't get here for two days. That's assuming the army receives word immediately."

"Which they won't," Kalena mused. "It'll take a day for a horseman to send word."

"Allarun's army has dragons," Haegl reminded them. "Once they receive word, the dragons will come."

"Then, all the more reason the attack has to happen tonight," Shadowhelm replied.

###

Dusk had fallen and Vaurgar strode on the wall walk along the city's main fortification. He stared into the deepening shadows beneath the mountains as though trying to discern where the enemy might be. Captain Torr walked beside him silently, knowing too well that Vaurgar was often susceptible to the same mood swings as Allarun.

"That Shara'kaiis out there, Torr," Vaurgar said. "He, Romarin, and that Chi'lan bitch fought Allarun's very best warriors and escaped. That Shara'kaiactually disarmed Allarun himself!"

Torr remained silent.

"They’ll pay for what they did," Vaurgar said. "No mongrel gets the better of a pureblood." He paused and stared into the deepening twilight. "How far is Romarin's army?"

"Two days march," said Torr. "Spies indicate that they barely have two thousand."

"Good – and Romarin has returned?"

"Yes – they have a dragon."

"A dragon?" Vaurgar stared. "A dragon – how?"

Torr swallowed hard, seeing Vaurgar's mood shift. "I don’t know – Allarun should have control of all the dragons."

"Unless they have called upon the powers of Eihwaz," Vaurgar mused. "Romarin may yet be the Lachlan."

"Lord?" Torr asked. "Most are Chi'lanwarriors, though. One Chi'lanis worth five soldiers – or so it’s said."

"The Chi'lanare evenly matched with our Soul-Eaters, Captain," Vaurgar said. "You bear good news, and while I find the news of the dragon disturbing, we have enough dragons to take down the one." He paused. "Go tonight to our army with this message. We attack within the fortnight."

###

"Playing messenger again?" Urill scoffed as Torr mounted his horse. The Eltarlieutenant held the horse's bridle as the captain mounted the chestnut mare.

"Yes, Urill," Torr said, tight-lipped. "The fool doesn't know how to use his soldiers properly. Only Allarun knew how to use his army to its full potential – or so it's been said."

"There's not much to do," Urill remarked as he mounted his own steed. "I hear it's just a mopping up."

Torr eyed the man. "Perhaps. Then again, perhaps not. Vaurgar says a Shara'kaiwarrior actually disarmed Allarun, himself. If so, we may have more than 'mopping up' to do."

Another Eltarsoldier named Kel joined them and they rode out of the gates. The road from Caer Llaen ran east through fields of wheat and oats. Rows of slaves and prisoners, shackled together, walked through the fields, gathering the ripe grains while some light was still left. At one time, the grain would have fed the city, but now all its produce would feed Allarun's army. Torr smiled as he watched the taskmasters goad the slaves with whips and cudgels.

Stars appeared overhead as Torr and his small band arrived at the crossroads. The main road continued east, but the smaller crossroad turned north toward Thalarmor and Allarun's army. The road entered the dark pine forest in the north. As night fell, the forest became foreboding. Even Torr's sharp eyes could hardly discern the trail in the near blackness. The steed began to prance nervously, champing the bit and tossing its head.

"What's with the horses tonight?" Urill asked, trying to rein in his own horse.

"Don't know, but they're awfully edgy," Kel said, steadying his own mount.

Suddenly, Torr's horse spooked. The mare screamed once and reared. Torr tried to regain control, but the horse bolted into the darkness.

"Damn nag!" Urill snapped and spurred his own horse after Torr. Kel swore and followed. "What is with these animals? I've never seen them…"

Urill never had time to finish the sentence. None of the soldiers saw either the dragon or the two warriors.

Haegl pounced on Torr and his horse. The horse reared and screamed in terror as the dragon descended on it. Torr fell from the steed as the dragon lifted the horse in his jaws and crushed it. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Torr leapt to his feet in time to see Shadowhelm's glowing sword crash down on him. Kel's and Urill's horses reared as the dragon attacked.

Cursing, the Eltartried to steady their mounts. Kel tumbled off the horse and Kalena impaled him through the neck with her sword.

"Get the horses!" Shadowhelm shouted. "We'll need them!" The Shara'kailunged and grasped the reins from Kel's frantic horse.

"Shadowhelm! He's getting away!" Kalena shouted.

Shadowhelm turned and saw Urill turn his horse and spur the animal back towards Caer Llaen. The Shara'kaileapt upon Kel's horse and spurred the crazed animal into a gallop after Urill. Branches slapped his face and long boughs threatened to sweep Shadowhelm off the horse as he held on, sword drawn. He could sense, rather than see or hear Urill ahead. Ducking unseen branches as they swept across his path, Shadowhelm knew he was getting closer. If Urill broke out of the forest and made it back to Caer Llaen, their plan would be ruined.

Then, Shadowhelm's eyes made out the fleeing rider just ahead. He spurred the horse onward and with a battle cry, swung the sword of the Lochvaur. Urill parried and the two men lock swords.

"Shara'kaimongrel!" Urill spat contemptuously.

The horses at that moment leapt over a fallen log, separating the two. Shadowhelm reined the steed towards Urill again, swinging the blade one-handed. Urill parried, but the blow unbalanced him and he tumbled off the horse.

Shadowhelm reined the horse around and charged. Instead of meeting Shadowhelm's thrust, the Eltar leapt and grasped the pommel, pulling himself upward and smashing his blade into the horse's neck. The horse screamed and slammed into the ground, throwing both warriors to the side and covering them with slick blood.

Pain exploded inside the Shara'kai'shead as he hit the ground. The sword of the Lochvaurclattered along the ground as he released it. The helm absorbed most of the impact, but his vision blurred. Struggling to move, his legs were pinned by the dead horse.

Urill was on top of him with a dagger. Shadowhelm was physically stronger, though, and gripped the Eltar'swrist, so that Urill's blade could only glance off Shadowhelm's chainmail. Struggling to free his legs, Shadowhelm kicked, felt the heavy mass of the horse move aside and rolled over, dragging the Eltar with him.

But again, Urill was too fast. He kicked, threw the Shara'kai off and picked up his sword. "Shara'kaimongrel," he said as he held Shadowhelm at sword point, "Your filth isn't worth sullying my blade."

Shadowhelm grinned. "Don't worry, you won't have the chance."

At that moment, Haegl and Kalena burst into the clearing. Urill screamed as the dragon's maw crushed him.

Chapter Eighteen

"Rider!" called the watchman from the ridge nearby. The last light of Sowelu, had passed behind the mountain. Romarin scanned the ravine below, catching sight of the free-lancer riding in at a gallop. His Sight told him who it was even before the rider was close enough to identify.

"Hold your fire! It's Eachan bearing a message from Shadowhelm," Romarin shouted.

Falar strode out of the cavern. "My lord, are you certain?"

"Quite," said Romarin. "Falar – we must break camp tonight. Allarun's army is only a four days march from here."

Falar stared for a moment and then nodded. "Very well, my liege."

Eachan rode his red roan stallion up the ravine and into the camp. He was a tall Shara'kaiof indeterminate ancestry who had served for years in Romarin's army as a mercenary. He dismounted and handed the reins to a page, following both Falar and Romarin into the cave. Eachan removed his battered helm, exposing the short-cropped brown and silver hair and mottled eyes that betrayed his mixed ancestry. "Romarin," he addressed the king as another mercenary thrust a hot cup of rooisbos into his hands. "I bring word from Shadowhelm."

Romarin suppressed a smile. Like Shadowhelm and all freemen without liege lords, Eachan didn't recognize rank or title. "What word do you bring, soldier?"

Eachan quaffed the rooisbos. "Allarun's troops are within four days march," Eachan said.

Falar glanced at Romarin. "Eachan confirms what you said. But where will we go?"

"South," Romarin said.

Eachan shook his head. "Allarun's troops will surely come from the Darkling Plain."

"We will not enter the Darkling Plain," Romarin said. "We will travel east to the forest."

"But that is the Laddelforest – they guard it jealously," objected Falar.

"I know – but they will welcome us as friends," Romarin replied.

###

"I was wondering when you two would show up," Shadowhelm said as he retrieved the sword of the Lochvaur.

"Haegl insisted on eating the horsemeat," Kalena remarked with a disgusted look towards the dragon. Haegl had finished crunching and swallowed the Eltar. "We needed that armor."

The dragon paused and stared at the dead horse next to them. "Eltar is nasty meat," he remarked. "Leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Horsemeat on the other hand…" He dipped his head to the dead horse and began ripping muscle meat from the carcass.

"So much for our ride," Kalena said.

"There's still one horse," Shadowhelm said. "If it hasn't run back to Caer Llaen."

"I'll find it," said Haegl and launched into the sky.

"I hope he doesn't eat it," Kalena remarked as they watched the dragon's dark form disappear over the treetops.

Shadowhelm shrugged. "If he does, we'll just have to make do."

"Wouldn't it be easier if we just dropped into Caer Llaen?" Kalena asked.

"We'd risk a lucky arrow shot at Haegl," Shadowhelm replied. "I want total surprise." They started walking back where they had left the two dead Eltar.

Shadowhelm strode up to Torr's body and gazed at it. "This was a Captain, I think," he said as he began to unbuckle the dark armor.

"I feel like such a scavenger," Kalena remarked as she pulled the black dragonhide gauntlets from Kel.

"Never been a mercenary, have you?" Shadowhelm remarked. "After your fourth or fifth body, you pretty much don't care anymore."

"How did you do it?" Kalena asked.

Shadowhelm shrugged. "You do what you have to do to survive. Scavenging from battlefields is part of war. It's how you get better armor and weapons."

"Then you did steal that gold?"

Shadowhelm paused for a moment and then grinned. "Oh, the gold I was being hanged for?” He shook his head. "No, I didn't. I'm not a thief."

"But you’ll steal from bodies."

"That's war," Shadowhelm said. "Totally different."

"I don’t see a difference."

"Of course you wouldn't," he said, and fell silent as he pulled the rest of the armor off the man.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, you’re a Chi'lanand a royal Lochvaur, so that doesn't surprise me,” Shadowhelm remarked. “War is just another form of theft – it's just sanctioned, that's all. How did the wars of the Lachlan get started?" He paused to inspect the bloody armor to determine if he could sufficiently hide the rents.

"Lachlan united our people," Kalena said. "The Eleion were scattered and prone to fighting among ourselves. Lachlan was the driving force behind our unity."

"Not all Eleionjoined Lachlan's cause."

"No, of course not," Kalena said. "Some, like the Silren, were distrustful of Lachlan and Elsonre."

"So, they were forced to join at sword point," Shadowhelm remarked. "Kalena, have you ever wondered if we might be trading one tyrant for another?"

"Lachlan – a tyrant?" She stared at him in disbelief.

"Why not? Even Allarun at one time was Lachlan's ally.” Shadowhelm pulled off the hauberk and red and gold Chi'lansurcoat.

"Haegl could tell you more about Lachlan than I could," Kalena said.

"Haegl?"

"Yes, he was Lachlan's friend and ally."

At that moment, Haegl's dark form appeared over the treetops. The dragon carried a horse, still alive, clutched in his talons. The horse was petrified with fear and barely moved when the dragon gently set it down. Kalena grasped the bridle and tied the horse's reins to a tree.

"Well, it's sort of alive – I guess that's better than nothing," she said.

Haegl reverted to his Eleionform. "I showed considerable restraint," he replied, still eyeing the horse and licking his lips.

"Let's get going," Shadowhelm said.

###

It was after midnight when three Eltarsoldiers approached the gates of Caer Llaen. Two were on foot, leading a horse with a fallen companion slumped across the horse's back. The leader – a captain – strode forward, black hair gleaming in the moonlight. His partner was slighter of build and wore a dark helm that concealed most of the features.

"I still don't think this will work," the helmed warrior whispered to the captain.

Shadowhelm glanced behind, amusement in his silver eyes. The dark hair gave him a more sinister appearance. "Of course it will work," he said, assuming a haughty expression. "We're Eltar. Act like one."

"Arrogant?"

"Yeah," said Shadowhelm with a wry expression. "Act natural."

"Quiet!" Haegl hissed, glancing up from his position on the horse. "We're almost at the gate."

"Halt!" called a guard from the tower above the gate. "Identify yourselves."

Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena who kept her eyes steadily on him. "Let me in immediately! Highwaymen waylaid us in the forest! I have one wounded."

Silence ensued. Then, the gate creaked open. Shadowhelm winked at Kalena.

"Don't get cocky," she hissed. "We're not in yet."

"Act like this is normal," Shadowhelm whispered. He stepped forward. Kalena followed and led the horse with its passenger inside. Shadowhelm carefully walked past the open portcullis and the gatehouse. As soon as they were past, another Eltar greeted them.

"Torr, is it?" Gareth asked suspiciously.

"Aye, that's right," Shadowhelm said and whirled around, sword flashing. Shadowhelm cut down the startled Gareth before the Eltarcould draw his own blade.

Pure chaos ensued. A black dragon seemed to appear from nowhere, belching black flame along the curtain wall, incinerating guards. The dragon then turned on the Eltarsoldiers who fled in terror at the immense beast. Shadowhelm barely missed being crushed as Haegl attacked the Eltar. Kalena dodged the dragon's tail as it swept by.

"Glad he's on our side," Kalena panted. "Let's find the gatehouse." Together they ran towards the gatehouse, searching for the mechanism that would open Caer Llaen's gates to the mercenaries. One Eltarsurprised them, but Kalena was quick and slew him as they ran into the gatehouse.

The two Eltarguards didn't have a chance to draw their swords. Shadowhelm cut them down and Kalena walked over to the gate mechanism.

"Do you know how to work it?" Shadowhelm asked, looking dubiously at the gear.

Kalena nodded and pushed the lever down that caused the gate to lower. The cogs turned and chains rattled loudly. Shadowhelm watched out the window as the drawbridge lowered and the gate raised. On the other side, the mercenary army, led by Mic, rode into the city.

"That was easy," Kalena grinned. "Let's get out of here before someone shows up."

"That's a little too late," said Vaurgar.

Both warriors turned to see Vaurgar and four more Eltartroops standing before them with swords drawn.

Chapter Nineteen

"Drop your swords!" Vaurgar ordered. The general stood before his soldiers, his blade pointed at the two warriors.

Shadowhelm considered the numbers. "Five to two. Can you take two?" he asked.

"Easy," Kalena replied.

Shadowhelm met the Eltargeneral's gaze evenly. "We've been against worse odds than this," he said.

Vaurgar stared as recognition slowly dawned on him. "You again, Shara'kai?" He held up his dark blade. "You’re becoming tiresome. I should’ve killed you in Sehduk's keep."

"Pity," Shadowhelm said, noting that none of the Eltar dare approached him. Their eyes were wide with terror as they stared at the sword of the Lochvaurin Shadowhelm's hands. "But I’m not so easily killed."

"We'll see when you're spitted on my sword," Vaurgar said, still not attacking.

Shadowhelm grinned. "Don't make threats you can't back up, Soul-Eater," he said, swinging the sword of the Lochvaur effortlessly. "Come, Pureblood, let me disarm you the way I disarmed your master!"

Fury overcame fear in Vaurgar's eyes and the Eltarcharged at the Shara'kaiin a blind rage. Shadowhelm laughed, parrying the blows. Kalena charged at the Eltarsoldiers with a loud battle cry, swinging her own sword.

Instead of pressing their advantage, the Eltarsoldiers retreated. Only Vaurgar seemed willing to take on the Shara'kai with the glowing sword.

Suddenly, the walls around them collapsed. Fire and stone rained down on them in all directions. Vaurgar broke off the fight and backed away, looking up. Shadowhelm looked upwards and saw the black dragon's snout appear over the rubble.

"Haegl!" Shadowhelm exclaimed, hoping that the dragon wouldn't mistake him and Kalena for real Eltar. The beast nodded once and turned on the Eltar, breathing fire. Vaurgar led the soldiers as they fled over the rubble with Shadowhelm in pursuit. Vaurgar sprinted to what was left of the gate, grasped the first horse that ran through it and yanked off its rider. He mounted the terrified beast and rode as fast as he could away from Caer Llaen.

Dark flames issued from Haegl's mouth. The flames followed Vaurgar, but the Eltargeneral escaped.

Shadowhelm wiped the soot and sweat from his brow. At that moment, Mic rode towards him, sword brandished.

"Mic! It's me! Shadowhelm!" the Shara'kaishouted.

Mic reined his horse. "Shadowhelm!" the free-lancer laughed. "I didn’t recognize you with that black hair. You look like one of those Soul-Eaters."

Shadowhelm chuckled. "Guess I ought to wash this dye out before someone mistakes me for an Eltar, eh? How goes the battle?"

"I wouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn't seen it myself," Mic replied. "When the townsfolk got over the shock of the dragon and realized that he was only going after Eltar, some of them got bold. There's fighting in every quarter now and the people are killing Soul-Eaters at will."

"Let’s not be too hasty in our celebrations," Shadowhelm said. "Get your men and supplies and let's get out of here now."

"That may take some doing," Mic replied.

"Do whatever you have to," Shadowhelm said.

"Why?" Kalena asked.

Shadowhelm turned to her. "We're not the only army with dragons. If Allarun or his army hears of this, they may not be able to do anything, but the dragons might. Vaurgar knew where our army was – if Romarin received the message, hopefully they're on the move."

###

Dawn brought Romarin's army to the southern foothills of the Shadow Mountains. They had followed a small river from the higher mountains, knowing that the water would lead downhill to the Darkling Plain below. The mountains here were dry and full of scrub and sage grass. It wouldn't provide much cover if Allarun's army or dragons attacked. Romarin knew that the Laddelseldom ventured into these arid hills – they sought the refuge of the coastal forests with the giant sequoias and firs.

The canyon became taller as they followed the river southeastwards. Falar, Ronan, and Eachan rode beside Romarin. Romarin continued to watch the walls, searching for any signs of life. He glanced back at Falar. Apprehension shone in the Eleionlord's golden eyes.

"This is a perfect place for an ambush," Falar said, echoing Romarin's thoughts as he glanced up at the canyon walls.

"We can't turn back," Eachan said. "We'll lose the lead we already have."

Romarin nodded. "I don't like this," he admitted. "How many miles do the scouts say this canyon runs?"

"At least another five," said Falar. "We'll be trapped here if we're attacked."

Romarin nodded. "Can we go around? Maybe use the ridges?"

"It'd be rough going over the ridges," Eachan said. "We'll be lucky to make it past this canyon by nightfall – assuming there isa way over the ridges."

Romarin shook his head. "We're too exposed here. We can't head west towards Caer Sithar or east to Caer Llaen because of Allarun's army. North is impassible with the early snows – we have to head south, somehow." He shook his head. "I don't like it, but we may have no other choice."

They rode forward into the canyon, unaware that they were being watched.

Chapter Twenty

"I found the last of them," Mic said to Shadowhelm. "Most of 'em were in the taverns and brothels."

They stood together in one of the few intact rooms in what remained of the garrison. Shadowhelm was back in the Chi'lanuniform and had rinsed out most of the dye. He and Kalena had found a few niceties in what had to have been the officers’ quarters – including soap and towels – and took advantage of them. There were still a few stubborn black streaks left in his mane, but overall he had returned to being Shara’kai.

Kalena had raided the food stash and found assorted dried meats and cheeses. As hungry as he was, Shadowhelm had ordered most of it to return with the army while he and Kalena gulped down a few pieces of cheese and some meat.

"Why am I not surprised?" he smirked. He glanced through the broken windows at the sky. The ruddy glow had spread in the east and the stars were winking out one by one. "This has taken far longer than it should."

Mic shrugged. "What can I do?"

"You can keep better control over your men," Kalena said. She too was back in her Chi’lanarmor and strode into the room drying her hair with a towel.

Mic scowled. "Now listen, Missy, you may be a Chi'lan…"

Shadowhelm raised his hand. "Peace, Friend. We are all very tired from this. We have a long ride ahead of us."

The mercenary nodded. "Aye, we do."

Shadowhelm turned and saw Haegl standing beside him in Eleion form. "I trust you are uninjured?" the Shara'kaiasked.

Haegl inclined his head in a short nod; his cat-like eyes studied Shadowhelm. "We had best leave now."

###

Traveling through the canyon was slower than Romarin expected. After two hours of marching, they still had another hour to go before the canyon widened out. As they rode, Romarin began to become apprehensive. His gaze constantly drifted to the overhead ribbons of purple, magenta, and sand-colored rock that lined the canyon. Something was wrong. What it was, he could not tell. Once or twice, he thought he saw a flicker of movement in the canyon walls, but when he reached out with his mind to try to discern what it might be, he felt nothing.

Suddenly, the earth began to tremble. Romarin's horse reared and he held on as canyon walls shook violently.

"Earthquake! Get to the river!" Romarin shouted, but his voice was lost in the roar. Chaos followed. Rocks tumbled into the canyon from both sides. Horses, spooked by the earthquake, threw their riders and bolted into the oncoming landslide. Some soldiers fled forward, but most realized that they were trapped and made to the river.

Then, as quickly as it started, the earthquake stopped. Romarin steadied the frightened horse. He was one of the few who managed to remain seated. He was about to assess the damage when another jolt sent him to the ground. His horse bolted. Romarin rolled and got back on his feet in time to see the ribbons along the wall shift and move.

"What in Rhyn'athel's name?" he said, watching the ribbons move like snakes along the canyon walls.

Falar stared at the ribbons. "What are they?" he asked Romarin.

"I don't know," Romarin said, "but I bet they're not friendly."

"A trap?" Falar asked. "How can we destroy stone creatures?"

How indeed? Romarin stared at the shifting coils as they started tightening towards the valley below. The creature had set a trap and was now working to crush them in it. "The river!" Romarin exclaimed.

Falar glanced at him. "How?"

"We’ve got to get over or under the coils!" Romarin shouted. 'We swim out of this!"

"But our armor!" Falar objected.

"No choice!" Romarin shouted above the din. "The river!" he shouted. "Swim!"

Those who survived the first quake had already made it to the river’s banks. Romarin pulled off the heaviest pieces of armor and motioned the others to do likewise. "Swim downstream!" he shouted. "We don't have a choice. I'll hold it off, if I can."

The rock snake's coils were tightening now at an alarming rate. Men threw themselves into the river's dark current to escape the creature's coils. Romarin stood, sword ready, as he watched the snake's head form and lash out. Lapis blue eyes peered from a sandstone serpent face. It hissed and writhed, looking for prey. Then, it spied Romarin.

Like iron to a magnet, the rock snake lunged at Romarin, fangs bared. Romarin parried and felt the jarring sensation of metal hitting stone. Still, the king held on. Another swipe and a parry. Romarin glanced to see most of his men had left. Only Falar and a few other nobles still stood their ground, slashing desperately at the stone coils.

"Go!" Romarin shouted. "I can't hold this thing off forever!"

"But my lord!" Falar objected.

"Now, Falar!" The creature struck out and Romarin dodged, its fangs barely missing the Lochvaurking. The teeth sunk into the riverbank. When it pulled its teeth out, one of the fangs had sheared away on a rock.

That gave Romarin an idea. He couldn't kill the creature with steel but perhaps he could incapacitate it with stone. The creature was made from sandstone – not the harder granite. His own sword – the sword Ni'yah had given him – had taken small chunks from the rock snake, even though it had notched the blade.

Romarin struck once as the snake spun around. It forgot the men and now launched itself after Romarin. Romarin sprinted with the snake right behind and dove towards the granite boulders along the riverbank. The snake lashed out, snapping against the granite and breaking its teeth. Romarin dodged the strike but the snake caught him in its coils. The rock snake now encircled the Eleionking and soon Romarin was trapped.

As the coils grew tighter, Romarin fought to keep breathing. His sword was gone – dropped on the ground. The snake brought its head up. Romarin lashed out with his one free arm – his right arm – and gripped the snake's throat with his gauntlet hand.

Something happened. The gauntlet's fingers dug in and the snake began to recoil. It was as though he were gripping a living creature’s throat. The snake began to flail. Freeing his left arm, Romarin, drove his fist into the snake's eyes.

Then it was over. The snake turned to dust and blew away in the wind. Romarin collapsed, gulping the sweet air as it once more rushed into his lungs. Blood streamed down his forearm and face as he sat for a while. He then stood up, sheathed his sword, and stumbled over to the river.

His men were gone – obeying his orders. He looked towards the canyon in the south – rubble filled his path. Romarin knew he would have to chance the current. He dove into the dark water to follow the river downstream.

The river was ice cold and the shock jarred his bones as hard as the rock snake. He swam up gasping for air and warmth. Still Romarin swam, hoping that he would leave the canyon before hypothermia set in. The current wasn't strong here, so he was able to go up for air and then retreat back into the icy water. This continued for several long minutes and Romarin lost most of the sensation in his feet and hands.

Then, suddenly, he felt warm water mix with the icy cold current. He could see nothing beneath the water, but he knew that thermal springs were common here. Once such springs fed this river. The current picked up and before Romarin could fight it, he was swept under and down into darkness.

Romarin was no longer cold, but in the dark swirling water he was fighting for air. The current dragged him deeper. Seconds dragged to minutes and his lungs felt ready to burst. At that moment, he shot to the surface, floundering. Once again, sweet air rushed into his lungs and he blindly searched for something – anything to gain purchase.

As the hypoxic darkness cleared from his eyes, he could make out a snag ahead. Romarin swam to the snag and grasped outwards. His arms scraped against the sharp branches. With one final effort, Romarin propelled himself forward and threw his arms around the trunk, ignoring the branches as they raked across his face.

Romarin did not know how long he clutched the snag, but awoke shivering violently. He dragged himself along the snag until his feet hit solid ground. He took a few steps and then collapsed.

Chapter Twenty-One

Shadowhelm and Kalena rode on the dragon's back. The Shara'kai was beginning to become used to the dizzying height and the land rushing past him at speed. Below them, the mercenary riders waved as Haegl sped off towards the Shadow Mountains.

"Do you know where the army went to?" Shadowhelm asked, the wind ripping his words from his mouth.

"I have a good idea," the dragon replied. "They shouldn't be too hard to find."

"Shadowhelm – look!" Kalena said sharply.

"What?" said Haegl turning his head to see where she was pointing. In the early morning sun, dark forms flew towards them from the east.

"Dragons, I think," Shadowhelm said. "Vaurgar must have gotten word to his army."

"Worse – Fireworms," said Haegl.

"Aren't those dragons?" he asked.

"Not exactly – they're a primitive form of my species," Haegl replied. "They will kill dragons if given the chance."

"I thought there was nothing that could take down a dragon other than weapons," said Shadowhelm.

"Fireworms can," Haegl replied. "We'd better lead them away from the army or we'll bring the horde on them." He turned and flew north.

Shadowhelm didn't realize how slow the dragon had flown earlier until now. Haegl beat his wings many times faster than the Shara'kai would've guessed he could. The land sped by at an alarming speed.

Shadowhelm watched as they flew towards an ominous bank of clouds to the north. "Do we want to go there?" he asked. "The weather looks rough."

"We don't have much choice," Haegl replied.

Shadowhelm looked behind. Three fireworms were fast approaching. Unlike dragons, these creatures were long, thin serpents with wings and thin, bird-like legs. "They're almost here!" he said. Shadowhelm drew his sword.

"Hang on!" Haegl said and at that moment, twisted in mid-air with such alacrity that he nearly unseated both Shadowhelm and Kalena. The dragon dove towards the fireworms, causing two to fly out of his way. The third was not so lucky and Haegl grasped the creature in mid-air and shook it violently.

The fireworm hissed and spat flame, but the dragon held on. At that moment, one of the other two flying serpents wrapped itself around the dragon's body. It barely missed crushing both riders in its coils. Haegl released the wounded fireworm and tried desperately to bite the creature off him. Kalena slashed brutally at the serpent's skin – it was tough hide instead of scales. Her sword bounced off instead of slicing through.

"It's too tough!" she shouted back to Shadowhelm. Shadowhelm had ridden behind her and was unable to get at the fireworm while she stood.

"Let me try!" Shadowhelm shouted. Kalena ducked and Shadowhelm slashed into the fireworm's coils and severed the spine. The fireworm screamed in rage, but without sensory input, its coils began to loosen. Haegl bit into the flying serpent's neck and after several long seconds of thrashing, the creature went limp and slid off the dragon.

But, the two others were waiting to take its place. They latched onto Haegl with such ferocity that the dragon could no longer keep aloft, but began to plummet to the earth. Shadowhelm felt the sickening lurch as the dragon's wings folded under the two worms and began the freefall.

"NO!" Shadowhelm screamed, brandishing the sword in both hands. Haegl’s freefall sent him spinning off the dragon and into the air. Yet, even as he fell, he felt the sword's power flow through him. He thought he heard Kalena screaming his name as he tumbled to what was surely his death.

Shadowhelm was jolted upwards as something caught him in mid-air. He looked behind him and saw he was in the uninjured fireworm’s grasp. Shadowhelm held the sword ready for the fireworm to try to bite down. The bite never came.

What isss it you wissssh?

Shadowhelm stared at the creature. Was it talkingto him? His gaze went from the fireworm to the sword. It was glowing.

What isss it you wissssh?

“You understand me?” Shadowhelm asked, perplexed.

We understand the massster.

Master? Shadowhelm glanced at Haegl. The fireworm had released the dragon and was watching warily. Kalena was still riding Haegl, but her arms were stretched as far around the dragon’s neck as they could go as she held onto him as tightly as she could. She had almost been thrown off as well.

Did the fireworms obey him? Shadowhelm wondered. "Leave the dragon alone."

The other fireworm left Haegl and flew over to face him. I do as you command.

"Put me down – gently," he said to the fireworm holding him. The creature hesitated and then swooped low to a bare spot on the mountain.

The fireworm lowered Shadowhelm to a rocky outcropping and laid its head near his feet. The other fireworm lay beside it. Do not kill us, masssster.

The Shara'kaistared, glancing from the sword to the fireworms. “I won’t kill you,” he said, “as long as you don’t try to kill me.”

"What did you do, Shara'kai?" Haegl asked as he hovered over Shadowhelm with the two prostrated fireworms. Kalena said nothing, but stared at the Shara’kai.

"I don't know," he said. He looked again at the sword. It was glowing red. “It’s the sword...”

Haegl gazed at Shadowhelm and then nodded. “Send them away.”

Shadowhelm looked at the fireworms again. At once, he felt pity for the creatures who had for so long been forced to serve Allarun. "Go home," he said. "You’re free now. Don’t serve Allarun."

We will come again to your call,the fireworms replied and flew off. Haegl landed beside Shadowhelm, watching the fireworms as they flew to the north.

“They’ll come to my call?” Shadowhelm remarked incredulously as he sheathed the sword. “Did they mean that?”

"Yes, they did," said Haegl, considering Shadowhelm carefully. "Come, Shara'kai, we’ve much work to do."

"What happened?" asked Kalena as she offered Shadowhelm a hand up. Shadowhelm scrambled up the dragon’s scales and sat behind Kalena again.

"I don't know," he said. "One moment, I was gripping the sword and falling, the next moment, I was talking to the fireworm."

"No one, except the most powerful wizards, can understand wormtongue," Kalena said.

"I’m not a wizard," said Shadowhelm.

"No," Haegl said. "You’re not. But what you are, Shara'kai, has yet to be seen." He paused. “Hold on – you won’t have another fireworm to catch you if you become unseated.” He launched himself into the sky.

Circling once over the land, Haegl then turned north. The air grew colder with each passing minute.

"This isn't the way to the Shadow Mountains," Kalena said at length. "We're flying north still – the Shadow Mountains are to the west."

"We're not heading back just yet," Haegl replied.

Kalena glanced back and Shadowhelm shrugged. "We’ll have to trust him."

###

They continued flying north for some time, over countless rivers and mountains. The landscape became snow-covered and forbidding as they continued north. The mountains leveled to plains and then became sea and still they flew. The air was cold and soon land rose up -- another mountain range appeared in the distance. Had it not been for the heat that radiated off the dragon, Shadowhelm was certain they would have frozen to death.

It was almost nightfall when the dragon began to slow his pace and they reached landfall. The two riders stared as dragons rose from nearby mountains and flew towards the sea. In the distance, what appeared to be a flock of birds flew straight for the dragons. Only after a few moments did Shadowhelm realize that he was looking at more dragons from a distance.

"How many dragons are there?" Shadowhelm asked.

Haegl made no reply, but instead dove straight to a large rocky shelf.

"We're almost here – wherever 'here' is," Shadowhelm remarked.

"This is my cave where we will spend the night," Haegl said as he landed. "We will be safe here and will give the army a chance to get further away. I must think about what happened today and what our next course of action shall be."

"What do you mean?" Kalena asked. "What happened back there?"

"I will not discuss it further tonight," the dragon said.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was not long when two Eleionwarriors were walking along the bank. They were fierce-looking creatures with golden eyes and silver and gold hair. They wore thick skins from wolves, elk, and bear and their faces were painted in red and black.

The first Eleionspied Romarin's still form. "There's another one," he said jumping down from the embankment above.

"Is he alive, Foxfire?" the second asked.

"Hae-ya! Look the silver hand!" Foxfire exclaimed, point to Romarin's silver gauntlet. "Firestar, help me with this one – he's still alive."

"He's a Royal," remarked Firestar. "The red-gold hair – he's Lochvaur."

"I thought they were all dead," Foxfire said.

"There is the Prophecy of the Lochvaurwith the silver hand…" Firestar said.

Foxfire nodded. "Yes – let's bring him back to the chieftain. The chieftain will know what to do with him."

###

Romarin awoke warm and dry. His clothing had been replaced with a rough woolen tunic and breeches and his wounds were bandaged. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized that he was looking through the bars of a cage or cell. The scent of warm meat and tea caught his attention and he looked down to see food next to the sleeping pallet.

"At least they’re hospitable to their prisoners," he muttered. Romarin picked up the meat and began eating it.

"Romarin? Is that you?" Falar's voice came from the left.

Romarin looked over to see Falar and a handful of other men in a cage next to him. Chi'lanwarriors. "Aye – it's me, Falar." Romarin said, gulping the tea. "What manner of creatures have us locked up?"

Falar grinned. "Eleion, my lord, but we can't understand a blasted word they say."

"Eleion," Romarin repeated. "What do they look like?"

"I've never seen Eleionlike these," he confessed. "They have golden eyes and silver and gold hair."

"Shorter and stouter than most?"

"Aye."

"Haell," Romarin remarked. "Both they and the Laddelspeak an off-dialect of the ancient tongue."

"Can you understand it?"

"Maybe – depending on how much it's changed."

"They seemed to take great care of you," Falar noted. "None of us have had any food."

Romarin nodded. "We'll see about changing that." He looked at the wooden bars that made up the cage. "Tough ironwood," he said. "The lock is a simple chain with a padlock. The lashes have also been pitched. A sword would make short work of this, but with my bare hands, I can do nothing."

A HaellEleion walked into the cavern. He was obviously a warrior with a muscular frame and golden eyes. He wore leather armor and soft woolen clothing, trimmed in fur. "Silver Hand, I see you awake."

The Haelllanguage was difficult to follow, but Romarin understood enough. Romarin sighed with relief – if he could communicate to these people, perhaps he could bargain their freedom. Romarin nodded. "Thank you for saving my life," he replied.

"You understand?" the Haellsaid in surprise.

"I know the ancient tongue," Romarin said.

The Haelllooked impressed. "The chieftain will be pleased to hear."

Romarin nodded to his men. "These are my soldiers. They need food and water. I’ll speak to your chieftain after they’re tended to."

"I am Foxfire," the warrior said. "I will send someone to attend to them."

"I am Romarin Nevfaras," the king said. "Romarin of the Silver Hand. The Red Wolf."

"The Haellhave heard of one such as you," Foxfire said. "Are these all your men?"

"There are many more that escaped the rock serpent, but we don't know where they are."

"You escape rock serpent?" Again, Foxfire looked impressed. "Few escape that fiend."

Romarin nodded. "We were lucky. Foxfire, I’d like to speak to your chieftain."

"Silver Hand, Joreid speaks to few," Foxfire said. "I will ask." With that, he left the cavern room.

"What did he say?" Falar asked.

"They'll bring you food and drink," Romarin said. "I asked for an audience with their chieftain. Evidently his name is Joreid."

Foxfire came back in. "Joreid will see you now. Your men will be taken care of." He unlocked the padlock and pointed his spear in the direction he wanted Romarin to go. Romarin glanced knowingly back at Falar and then strode from the cavern.

The cave complex was immense. Romarin was amazed at the work required to engineer such a feat. Sconces lined the tunnels and airshafts reached to the outside. Foxfire led Romarin through several chambers, each inhabited with Haell. As he passed the Haell, he noticed that many pointed and stared at his gauntlet.

"Why is everyone pointing to my hand?" Romarin asked.

"That is for Joreid to tell you," Foxfire replied. "Joreid is head chieftain of all the Haellclans. It is a great privilege to be granted an audience."

Romarin nodded, wondering what the protocol would be. "I am king of my people – a type of chieftain," he added, seeing Foxfire's puzzlement over the word 'king.'

Foxfire nodded. "Come then, Chieftain Silver Hand. Joreid waits." They walked into an enormous cavern, filled with light from torches. A slender Haellwoman sat on an immense stone throne. Her golden eyes studied Romarin as he approached her throne. "Great Chieftain Joreid, I bring you Chieftain Silver Hand."

"Welcome King Romarin of the Silver Hand, the Red Wolf," Joreid spoke as she stood up. "I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

The cold dawn sent shafts of light into the cavern. Shadowhelm awoke as the mountain air filled his nostrils. Haegl still slept soundly, the dragon's immense body radiating enough heat to warm the entire cavern. His snoring was rhythmic like the purr from a very large cat and while loud, seemed to have a drowsy effect along with the heat from his body. But Shadowhelm was no longer tired and stood up. He was hungry and the makeshift meal in Caer Llaen seemed a long time ago.

Shadowhelm checked the fire and finding that it had been reduced to embers hours before, settled for cold rations. They had taken enough meat, bread, and cheese from Caer Llaen for a couple of days if they conserved. He quietly opened their packs and fished out meat and cheese along with a hunk of dry bread.

He glanced over where Kalena lay. She too, was asleep. Shadowhelm watched her as her chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath her heavy cloak. He never was tired of looking at her – or being with her, for that matter. There was something about her he could not quite explain to himself – something familiar. He had known other women as warriors and lovers, but had never had this reaction to them. Kalena was different in so many ways.

He knew he had behaved badly towards her ever since she had rejected him. The word "childish" entered his mind, and he sarcastically thanked the voice for being so candid. The raid, too, had been one of bravado, as much to impress her as it had been to keep the mercenaries in the army.

Shadowhelm shook his head as he pondered their strained relationship. He was a hardened warrior, not a foolish romantic, and yet he longed for Kalena. But he knew he was clumsy when dealing with love and would risk destroying his friendship with both Romarin and Kalena forever if he dared to go much further. And like it or not, Shadowhelm knew now he had a role in this Prophecy.

The Prophecy. He set down the piece of bread and drew the sword, staring at it in the ruddy light. Despite all the bravado to impress Kalena, he had pulled off the raid at Caer Llaen and the sword had been a part of it. Every time he drew the sword, he had felt something strong stir within him, like a distant memory. At first, he had discounted it as being his imagination – after all, it had been an enchanted sword. But the fight with the fireworm confirmed that something was happening to him. He could not explain the changes he felt inside, but he knew he was changing.

Perhaps it is time for you to believe,the voice said.

The voice had always been there, but was now growing stronger and took on a tenor similar to his own. Could it be the sword of the Lochvaur? he wondered.

"Believe what?" he murmured aloud.

Believe that which you already know to be true.

Shadowhelm shook his head. At one moment, he had been tumbling in the air, screaming, the next moment, the fireworm had spoken to him and turned into his ally. Why? What had he done that enabled him to speak and control the fireworms?

The Swords of Destiny can control dragons.

But this is not a Sword of Destiny,he objected.

The voice did not reply.

Shadowhelm stood up and walked outside. He was greeted with the cold sun and a stiff wind. The sky was cobalt blue and the rarified air felt good in his lungs. He had been away from the Northlands too long, he decided. The southern lands were for those who were soft and weak. They were not lands of warriors, but lands of farmers, herders, and fishermen.

The ledge was larger than he remembered the night before when they had landed. In retrospect, he realized that Haegl's size dwarfed almost anything. Shadowhelm took up a warrior stance and began swinging the sword, first with his right hand and then with his left. Faster and faster, he fought against invisible opponents in a kata he had learned many years ago when he was younger. Drenched in sweat, but filled with the sword's power, he whirled around and saw the dragon watching him curiously.

"You wield that sword as though it were an extension of yourself," Haegl said. "I have only once seen that sword wielded in that fashion."

Shadowhelm grinned. "It is a fine blade – better than any I have ever wielded. It is as if this blade was made for me."

"Perhaps it was."

"How so?"

"The magic you wielded yesterday over the fireworms was not minor. Only the most powerful could have done what you accomplished," said Haegl. "You broke Allarun's control – something not even Romarin has ever tried.

"I watched you when you fought Vaurgar. There is very little that frightens him – or Allarun. But he is terrified of you, Shadowhelm."

Shadowhelm shrugged, sheathing the sword. "Perhaps neither Allarun nor Vaurgar have ever met a warrior who didn’t fear them."

"You are not afraid of Allarun."

"No. Angry, yes. Cautious, yes. But I am not afraid," Shadowhelm replied.

"I have only known two others who did not fear Allarun. One is Romarin; the other was Lachlan, himself," Haegl said.

"What are you saying?"

Haegl shrugged. "Romarin senses what I do – only we don’t know which path this may take. There are many who believe that Romarin is the Lachlan."

"Do you?" Shadowhelm asked.

"I did – until I met you."

Shadowhelm stared at the dragon. "You brought me here to tell me this?"

"I brought you here to tell you what you may need to know," Haegl replied. "That sword – what do you know about it?"

Shadowhelm drew the sword. It came alive in his hands and he swung it around in delight. "I know that I feel its power coursing through me every time I draw it," he said. "It is the sword Elsonre forged after Eihwazwas destroyed on the Darkling Plain."

"Is that what Romarin told you?" Haegl asked.

Shadowhelm stopped in mid-stroke and held the sword up to the sun. "What else could it be?"

"There are only two swords that could withstand the power of Allarun's own sword, Hagalaz. One was Uruz; the other, Eihwaz," Haegl replied. "Look at the runes on the blade, Shadowhelm."

Shadowhelm stared. "There are three runes Eihwaz, Uruz, and Hagalaz."

"Defense. Strength. Chaos. Which do you wield?"

The word came unbidden to his mind: Eihwaz.

Shadowhelm gasped. He stared at the dragon. "Eihwaz! The Second Sword of the Destiny! This sword belongs to Romarin. I have no right to wield this.”

"You have every right – the sword chooses its wielder. Only a first-blood Lochvauror Lachlan, himself, could wield this blade," Haegl said. "Just as only Allarun, a first-blood Eltar, or Lachlan can only wield Hagalaz."

"Why didn't Romarin take this blade when I offered it to him?" Shadowhelm said. "He could do great things with it." He paused. "Why the deception?"

"I don't know," said Haegl. "Maybe Romarin felt it wasn't the right time to tell you. Maybe he felt you'd be safer not knowing. Maybe because he knows he’ll have to seek Uruz once more."

"Uruz– Lachlan's own sword," Shadowhelm mused.

"The key to the Lachlan's power," Haegl said.

"But Uruzwas destroyed, wasn't it?"

Haegl shook his head. "No, my Shara'kaifriend. Nothing on heaven or earth can destroy Lachlan's swords. It lies somewhere, waiting for its master."

"The Darkling Plain?"

"No, though that may be a good place to start. Romarin searched for it in his youth, but returned maimed and empty-handed."

"That's when he lost his right hand," Shadowhelm mused. He paused. "What would happen if someone who wasn't supposed to wield a Sword of Destiny touched one?"

"Instant death," the dragon replied. "The power would consume that person."

Shadowhelm shuddered.

"It isn't pleasant," the dragon said. "I've seen it happen."

"I could've died when I touched Eihwazin the Dark Temple," Shadowhelm said.

"You could have, but didn't. Unfortunately, you gave yourself away when you touched that sword," Haegl said.

"Gave myself away? How?"

"The Dark Lord must consider that you might be the Lachlan."

Shadowhelm laughed, but he quickly became somber when he saw that Haegl was not joining him. "You're serious, aren't you?" he said in incredulity. "You think that I might be the Lachlan."

"Romarin stood here, just as you stand here now," Haegl said. "He was searching for the secret of the Sword's power, but he had no sword to wield. You, my friend, wield one. You are one link to the three swords."

"But, with three swords, there has to be three sword wielders," said Shadowhelm. "Lachlan didn't wield all three by himself."

"True," said the dragon.

"Then, there must be three sword wielders again," Shadowhelm mused. "But whom?"

"You are one; Romarin may be the other," Haegl said.

"It makes a certain amount of sense," Shadowhelm mused. "Lachlan and Elsonre were Lochvaurand they wielded two of the Swords."

"Lachlan and Elsonre were twins, albeit not identical," Haegl remarked. "A trick of fate made Lachlan firstborn, but it wouldn't have mattered if he had been born second. His temperament and power exceeded Elsonre in every way. Don't misunderstand me, Elsonre was a warrior, but he was content to stay in his brother’s shadow. Perhaps in another life, he might not have deferred so easily – the blood of Rhyn'athel flowed in his veins just as much as it did Lachlan’s."

"Or Romarin’s," mused Shadowhelm.

"Or Romarin’s," the dragon agreed. "But you, Shadowhelm, are a bit of an enigma. Your mother was Shara'kai, wasn’t she?"

"Yes – half Lochvaurand half Shara'kaiNorthmen," Shadowhelm replied. "She died after I was born. The chief of our clan raised me as his son, but no one knew my sire. Some guess my father to be an Eleion; otherwise, I would look more Ansgar. Yet, there are no purebloods in the North."

"Interesting," said the dragon. "Could there be a fifth son of Rhyn'athel?"

Shadowhelm shook his head. "Haegl, I wouldn’t be so quick to claim Rhyn'athel as my sire. Half the children of the Northmen don't know their fathers. Illegitimacy is not uncommon there nor does it have the same stigma as it does in these lands. The clan is an extended family and another child, illegitimate or not, is another warrior."

"But none of themhave drawn Eihwaz," Haegl remarked. "You have."

"Does that mean that either of us could draw Uruzas well?" Shadowhelm asked.

"No, only Lachlan – or perhaps an heir of Lachlan – can wield that sword. Anyone else would suffer the same fate as those who touch a Sword of Destiny who were not meant to wield it."

"Did Lachlan have any heirs?"

Haegl shook his head. "None known." He paused. "Although Lachlan would have taken Cara as his consort."

"Cara?"

"Cara was the daughter of Silvain, King of the Silren."

"The Silren?" Shadowhelm mused. "Is this an EleionHouse?"

"It was. They were annihilated on the Darkling Plain," Haegl paused. "Most of the Houses were destroyed or scattered that day. The Lochvaur, Lochel, Redel, Elesil, Haell, Laddel, Falarel, and Silren have all but vanished. Only the Eltarremain strong."

"But there are still pureblood Eleion," Shadowhelm said.

"Yes, there are and a few houses still remain, though most will not deal with Romarin. The Haelland Laddel are said to have strong warriors, but they keep hidden and will have nothing to do with the Lochvaur."

"Little wonder," Shadowhelm remarked. "I'm surprised anyone follows the Lochvaurafter Darkling Plain."

"Only the Prophecy – and the hope of someday destroying Allarun – holds their loyalty," Haegl said. "The Lachlan will have a difficult time bringing unity back to the Eleion. And now, there are different players as well. The Ansgarwere not as powerful a race as they are now. They can be great allies or terrible adversaries." The dragon considered the Shara'kaithoughtfully. "Perhaps that is why you were chosen, Shadowhelm. You have blood from both in your veins."

"And perhaps I haven't been chosen for anything," Shadowhelm replied, laughing. He sheathed Eihwazand grinned. "The Lachlan would be desperate to choose me."

"That may be," the dragon shrugged. "But, these are desperate times." He paused and gazed into the cave. "The Chi'lan is waking and I am hungry. If there is anything left, I will bring some meat back."

With that, the dragon flew off.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Romarin was speechless. Joreid was a woman of both beauty and power. She held his gaze as he stared at her. She wore tunic and breeches similar to the Haellwarriors. Save for the gold and silver circlet and wristbands that glowed on her brow and arms like liquid fire and the silver fox trim, Joreid was dressed as any Haellmight be.

Simple, and yet Romarin could not think of anything that would make her more regal – or more beautiful. She was a warrior like he was; her muscles hardened from training and combat. Her golden hair was streaked with silver strands and carefully plaited in a single braid that reached to her waist.

Joreid was small and yet her presence filled the room. Romarin scarcely noticed the guards alongside her, the rich tapestries that hung along the cavern’s walls, or the gilded throne.

Joreid smiled, seeing the Lochvaurking taken aback. She knew he hadn't expected a woman – very few matriarchs ruled the kindreds even before Lachlan's time. Only Lachlei, the queen of the Lochvaur, and mother of Lachlan and Elsonre, was so powerful. Joreid rose and stepped down from the dais, their gazes locked.

Romarin recovered quickly. "Chieftain Joreid, I’m honored by your presence," he said, nodding his head in respect. "You’ve expected me?"

"For some time, Romarin," she said. "The Lochvaur aren’t the only ones who have the Sight."

Romarin nodded. "The Children of Fire have long produced great warriors and seers," he remarked. She strode over to him and once beside him, Romarin could see that she was shorter than her warriors by several inches. Romarin felt like a giant.

"Listen, Romarin," she said. "There is a prophecy among my people as surely as there is one among yours. The Haell have suffered long since the fall of Lachlan. Allarun forces us to live like wild beasts, fleeing the daylight and seeking refuge in the night. Several hundred years ago before my mother, the great prophetess Bryanna, died, she foretold of a Lochvaurwho would lead us out of the caves to claim the lands that were rightfully ours. That Lochvaurwould be the son of Rhyn'athel and we would know him by the silver gauntlet where his right hand should be.”

Romarin glanced at the gauntlet. "I didn’t come to free your people," he admitted. "My own army is decimated and scattered."

"Perhaps," Joreid said. "Lead a new army, Romarin," she said. "We are four thousand strong. The Haell are fierce warriors – their reputation is equivalent to the old Chi'languard of Lachlan.”

"So, I have heard." Romarin shook his head. "I know not your prophecies, lady. But there is Lachlan's prophecy which binds us all."

"The Prophecy of the Lachlan will come to pass, but so will the Prophecy of Bryanna," Joreid said. "Son of Rhyn'athel, are you refusing my gift?" Her eyes glowed in anger.

Romarin smiled wryly. "My lady, I’d never turn down a gift from such a beautiful woman."

A sly smile parted Joreid’s lips. “Perhaps there are other gifts you might not refuse.”

###

Romarin strode into the cavern where their cells were, flanked by Firestar and Foxfire. "These are my men, free them," he told the two Haellwarriors. He turned to Falar. "We're among friends. They've agreed to ally themselves with us."

Falar grinned as Foxfire unlocked the cage. "How did you manage that?" he asked. He and the other Chi’lanleft the cage.

"Who am I to dispute a Haellprophecy?" Romarin shrugged. "And their chieftain, Joreid, is most persuasive."

"We'll need our weapons back," said Ronan, eyeing Foxfire in distrust.

"Don't worry – we'll get them," Romarin said. He turned to Foxfire. “We’ll need to look for any more survivors.”

"There are other warriors in cavern's cells," said Foxfire. "All told, there may be a thousand here. Joreid has ordered them released."

“A thousand?” Romarin mused.

Firestar nodded. “How many were there?”

“Twice that many.”

"I’ll send word to our scouts," Firestar said. “If they’re alive and in Haellterritory, we’ll find them.”

“I hope so.” Firestar and the other Haellbowed and left the cavern.

“I don’t trust them,” Falar said, once the Haellhad left.

Romarin raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Don’t you find it strange?” Falar asked. “We’re thrown into cages at spear and sword point. Then they see you and you convince them to be our allies?”

“It isodd,” Romarin admitted. “But you’d have to meet Joreid.”

“And their language – what is the gods names are they saying?” Falar continued. “It’s gibberish.”

“It’s the old tongue,” Romarin corrected him. “Granted with some Haellflourishes, but I can understand it. Anyway, Firestar – the one whom I spoke to, told me that the Haellcaptured about a thousand of our soldiers. They’ll be released. Firestar will send men to search for the rest of our army."

"Some may have washed ashore into Laddelterritory." Falar said.

Romarin nodded. "We'll have to turn back to the Laddel Forest. Allarun's army is still too large for ours and the Haellcombined."

"Are you so certain of this?" a voice came from the entrance, speaking the common tongue. Romarin turned and saw the Haellchieftain.

"Joreid," Romarin said. He found himself pleased to see the Haellqueen again and despite himself, did not hide it in his voice.

Falar glanced at Romarin. "This is the Haellchieftain?"

Romarin nodded. "Aye, this is Joreid." He turned to her. "Lady, Allarun’s army is over twenty thousand men. While the Haellare indeed fine warriors, the odds are still against us – even if we find all my troops."

"Twenty thousand,” Joreid repeated. “The Dark Lord’s power has grown. Then you’re right. We must seek Laddel in his hidden fortress, Caer Ladren, for his warriors are equal in number to my own. Laddel sees further than I – he may be able to tell you what path we must take."

“Ten thousand against twenty thousand is no match,” Falar said. “Assuming we do find all our men alive, which I doubt, it’ll still be a slaughter.”

“But, it’s a start – and we have to find warriors who will fight Allarun’s troops somewhere,” Romarin said. “What few Eleion are left have the most to lose now. We need to make a stand against Allarun together, or he’ll hunt us down and destroy what’s left.”

“Indeed,” said Joreid. “One doesn’t need the Sight to see that.”

“But we can’t hold off twenty-thousand.”

Romarin shook his head. “Maybe not now, but at some point we will.” He turned to Joreid. "It’s been many years since I entered the Laddeldomain. I’ll need guides."

"You’ll need no guides, Romarin of the Silver Hand," Joreid replied. "Because I’ll be joining you."

Falar glanced at Romarin. "My lady, this is a dangerous mission…"

"That’s why I must come with you," she replied. "Laddel must know that we have joined forces and if he adds his troops, we will be formidable. There are others who may join us if we can claim a victory against Allarun. Then there is the Prophecy of the Lachlan."

Romarin met her gaze evenly. "Lady, I can’t claim to be the Lachlan, though I am a son of Rhyn'athel. Another warrior and I are linked to this Prophecy, yet neither has found Uruz."

"Sceaduhelm," Joreid said. "Yes, I’ve been watching that one with great interest. The Shara'kaiisn’t what one would suspect, but he wields the great sword, Eihwaz."

"Eihwaz?" Falar repeated.

Romarin met her gaze and switched to the Ancient Tongue. "You know about the Sword?"

Joreid smiled. "You should have told Shadowhelm about the Sword. Why didn’t you?”
Romarin shook his head. "He may not be the Lachlan, Joreid. Seeking the sword, Uruz, may kill him. As it almost killed me."

"Yet, you’re still alive," Joreid said, her golden eyes staring deeply into his own.

“But not unscathed.”

"There’ll come a time, Silver Hand, when you must face where your destiny lies. You’ve turned from it far too long. You must seek the Swords again. Only this time, you’ll face that which you fear." She paused. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Shadowhelm knows he wields Eihwaz. The dragon told him.”

Romarin sighed in relief. “Shadowhelm is all right then?”

“Yes, he and the Chi'lancommander are safe for the time being," she said. "But, Allarun knows now that one of you is the Lachlan. That’ll drive him to desperate measures. I’ll go with you, Romarin, because I, too, am tied to the prophecies."

"You’d follow me anyway regardless," Romarin said. "It appears that you have a far greater hold on me than I would’ve ever imagined."

"That’s not such a bad thing, Silver Hand, as you will learn," she replied.

###

The Haellheld a feast celebrating the alliance. Romarin and what nobles were present were amazed at the amount and variety of food. Elk, venison, rabbit, turkey, and quail mixed with a variety of forest shoots and mushrooms filled the tables. Bread and vegetables – considered by the Haell to be a luxury since they required land to cultivate – filled the platters and mead filled the cups. Romarin ate well, knowing that he might not have a chance to do so again in a long while.

Romarin sat on Joreid's right-hand side, trying to avoid gazing at her too long. He let the mead sit in his cup as they feasted and talked. Romarin recounted the battle and their exploits that landed them into the Haellcaves. Joreid listened in rapt attention. "Your tale is one of valor," she said when he had finished.

Romarin was about to reply when drums interrupted the chatter. Joreid grinned. "Sword and fire dancing," she said. "Watch this."

Foxfire and a Haellwoman warrior named Starflame stood before Joreid's table. Both bowed low. They held a torch and a sword in each of their hands. Then, Foxfire began swinging the great blade and the torch to the beat of the drums. Starflame held the sword above her head for a split second and then she, too, began swinging her blade and torch. Together, they walked towards each other. The swords swung down and Romarin was certain that they would cut or burn each other as they approached closer. Instead, they seemed to merge in a rhythmic dance. The drummers increased the tempo and the dancers kept up with it, swinging the swords and the flame around each other in a deadly dance.

Romarin watched in amazement – the dance became more frenetic and wilder, swords and flames passing inches from heads, arms, and legs. One slip could maim or cost the warriors their lives. The dance built to a crescendo and then the beat and the dance stopped all at once. Foxfire and Starflame's swords rested inches away from each other's neck.

The room exploded with cheering and applause. Romarin shook his head in amazement. "Your people are great warriors," he said to Joreid. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

Joreid smiled, shrugged off her cloak and drew her own sword. "Wait, Silver Hand, it gets better." With that, Joreid leapt over the table and faced Foxfire and Starflame.

The hall fell silent. Starflame handed the torch to Joreid, bowed to her, and left. Joreid and Foxfire faced each other and then bowed.

"What is Joreid doing?" Falar hissed in Romarin's ear.

"I believe she is going to dance," Romarin said. Why was she doing this? Certainly not to impress her own people.

The drums started. Foxfire began the dance. Joreid watched keenly, waiting for the right time. Then she entered the dance with her own battle sword and torch swinging. Like the other dance, it began slow, but Romarin noticed subtle differences. This dance was more difficult and more dangerous than the last one. The dancers now swung the blades to cut legs or heads, forcing the dancer to leap up as the sword swung in the right direction. The tempo increased and the dance mesmerized Romarin. Joreid was a blur of gold and silver, her sword was doubly a blur as she wielding it with a battle ferocity Romarin had seldom seen. She moved like flame as they danced and the crescendo built.

"She's crazy!" Falar whispered, unable to take his eyes off the Haellchieftain.

"Aye, she is," he said with a smile. And I would have no other, he added silently.

The Haellbegan to beat the table in time with the drums. The dance reached a fevered pitch and Joreid leapt over Foxfire and slammed her sword point first into the table where Romarin sat. Foxfire knelt, holding his sword to her in offering and the dance was over.

Joreid grinned as her gaze leveled on Romarin. The hall broke into a deafening roar as the Haelland Chi'lan soldiers cheered for the Haellchieftain. Romarin nodded, keeping his silver eyes fixed on her own. Joreid strode toward him. With a single tug, she freed the sword and sheathed it. "I’ll come with you to the Laddelfortress," she said softly.

Romarin grinned. "You’re right," he said. "It’s not such a bad thing."

###

Romarin left the caves later that night and stood on a small hill just outside, staring into the clear night sky. The stars seemed to shimmer brightly in the cold air. The first moon would not appear for a few hours yet and he listened to the lament of the wolf far in the distance. He smiled as he saw a figure emerge from the main cavern, hooded and cloaked.

The figure walked slowly up the hill, seemingly oblivious to the Lochvaurking. Romarin waited patiently until the figure came within a few yards. "I knew you’d be here," he said.

Joreid pulled the hood down. "Did you, Romarin?" A slight smile touched her lips.

"You’re not the only one with the Sight," Romarin said.

"And what does your Sight tell you?" Joreid asked.

Romarin drew her into his arms. "That I’ve been far too lonely, too long," he replied. He kissed her passionately.

Joreid's response was as eager as his own – shivering violently under his touch. She pulled away from him and taking his hand, led him into the forest.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kalena awoke alone. The cold air had seeped into the cave and without the dragon's warmth, quickly chilled her. Her mind replayed the events from the day before. She had seen many battles and fought beside many warriors, but she had never seen anyone except Allarun and another dark wizard command a fireworm. A knot in the pit of her stomach tightened as she thought about it. Kalena had at first considered Shadowhelm a thief with a fortuitous bloodline, later a valuable warrior, and – to a certain degree – a born leader.

Now, she saw what Romarin had seen. Kalena had been amazed when Romarin had called Shadowhelm his brother and given the Shara'kai Nevfaras's own sword. Perhaps Romarin had seen the Shara'kai'sdormant power and knew what potential lurked within. Or perhaps Romarin could only hazard a guess.

There are only three left of our bloodline that we know of, she thought to herself. Shadowhelm, Romarin, and I. One of the two must be the Lachlan.

Kalena chided herself for failing to recognize Shadowhelm's potential. She had allowed Shadowhelm's Shara'kaiand mercenary heritage to overshadow her perceptions of him. Even when Shadowhelm had taken on Allarun, himself, but Kalena saw nothing besides a very determined warrior.

And she had turned away when he had told her that he loved her.

Kalena shook her head. Shadowhelm had been right all along. She loved Romarin, but as a king and champion. She had denied the attraction she had felt towards the Shara’kaifor the sake of Romarin – and yet, she did not love the king. With Shadowhelm, there was more than just attraction. Much more.

She rocked back on her heels and thought hard about it. Kalena was a Chi’lanwarrior – all her life that was all she really knew. She had put aside her feelings long ago to serve the warrior god, Rhyn’athel, and to serve the king. Somewhere she had sacrificed those emotions that had made her truly alive. In truth, she did not know how to react anymore.

She stood up and rummaged through the pack, finding that the bread was hard. Her stomach was not ready for the cheese or the meat yet, so she pulled what was left of the bread and found a stone to sit on.

Shadowhelm strode in, sheathing his sword. He grinned. "I trust you slept all right?"

Kalena shrugged. "It was warm, at least." She eyed the piece of bread in her hand dubiously. "I assume there isn't much besides the dried meat and the cheese."

"Haegl is hunting. He may bring us back some fresh meat," Shadowhelm sat beside her on a rock and offered a canteen. "The water helps choke it down."

She laughed and their eyes met. For a moment, Kalena thought that he might say something but instead he gazed around the cavern. "This is not what I expected a dragon cave to look like," he confessed.

Kalena looked around at the bare walls and the rocky floor. "What did you expect?"

"Gold, I guess," he said. "They say dragons hoard treasure, but I don't think Haegl has even a coin here."

"The fireworms hoard treasure," Kalena said. "But they're dumb creatures and like shiny objects. The big firedrakes like Haegl really have no use for such trinkets, I suppose."

"I suppose you're right," he said. "Haegl doesn't seem like the gold-hoarding type."

A silence ensued. Kalena shifted on her rock as she tried to gnaw the bread. "What happened yesterday with those fireworms?" she asked.

Shadowhelm stood up and took a deep breath. How much should I tell her? he wondered.

As much as needed.

Shadowhelm nodded. "What did you see?"

"You were falling at one moment and hissing loudly. That's when the fireworm grasped you and began talking to you in hisses and clacks – wormtongue," she said. "They said that Romarin's stepfather, Nevfaras, could speak in wormtongue. So could Lachlan." She met his gaze. "Shadowhelm, there is something unusual about you. Something I can't readily explain. I believed with all my heart that Romarin was the Lachlan, but now…"

"But now you're not so sure," he finished her sentence.

"Yes." She met his gaze.

"Kalena," Shadowhelm said evenly. "What do you know about this blade?" He tapped Eihwaz'spommel.

"It was Nevfaras's sword, handed down from generation to generation from Elsonre, himself. Elsonre forged this blade after Eihwaz was destroyed in the Battle of Darkling Plain," she said. "Why do you ask? You heard the story from Romarin."

"Why would Romarin lie to both of us?" the Shara'kai wondered. "Unless he didn't know…"

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Romarin wouldn't lie."

"Kalena, this is Eihwaz," Shadowhelm said, resting his hand on the sword's hilt. "Haegl told me."

Kalena stared at the sword’s hilt and again at Shadowhelm. "Then, this means that you are…"

"First-blood – that's all," Shadowhelm interrupted her. "Eihwazcan be wielded by a first-blood Lochvaur. Lachlan forged Eihwazfor that purpose. You see, only Lachlan, Elsonre, or Elsonre's heirs could wield Eihwaz."

"But you still could be…" she began.

"Someone very dangerous to Allarun. Yes, I suppose I could be," he shrugged.

Kalena stared. "You just admitted that you could be the Lachlan and you brush it off like it was inconsequential!"

"Romarin is the son of Rhyn'athel," he reminded her. "I am Shara'kai. And the point is pretty much moot until either of us touches Uruz."

Before Kalena could reply, Haegl landed outside of the cave, clutching a portion of what looked to be a deer flank. Shadowhelm strode into the cold breeze. "I trust you ate your fill?" Shadowhelm asked.

The dragon looked somewhat mournfully at the haunch. "I showed considerable restraint," he replied. "If I recall, you Eleion seem to prefer muscle meat."

"That we do," said Kalena as she approached the dragon. "Where are we exactly?"

"In the Never Summer Mountains," replied Haegl.

"We are north of even the Northlands," Shadowhelm mused. "No wonder it is so cold here." He gazed at the haunch. "We can butcher it with our swords, but last night, I used up what little timber there was on this ledge for a fire."

"There are downed trees on the leeward side of this mountain," said Kalena. "I remember seeing them when we flew in last night."

Haegl stared at each of them. "Am I to understand that you wish me to bring firewood?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Kalena said.

"If you don't want to be used as a cooking fire," Shadowhelm added.

The dragon stared for a moment and then with a large huff, took off once more, leaving the haunch for both Shadowhelm and Kalena to carry inside.

"I hope he finds a well-seasoned tree," said Shadowhelm and they both burst out laughing.

###

Haegl soon reappeared, clutching deadfall in his talons. Kalena insisted that they use her sword to butcher the deer meat because "Eihwazwas too important to be used for such base purposes." In no time, the warriors had slices of venison cooking near the entrance.

"So, what do we do now?" Shadowhelm asked, looking at Haegl who had curled up for sleep.

The dragon opened one eye. "Isn't it obvious?"

The Shara'kailooked in askance at Kalena who shook her head. "None of this is obvious to me."

"We look for Uruz," Haegl said, letting his eyes close again.

"What about Romarin?" Shadowhelm asked, but the dragon's breathing indicated that he was already fast asleep. Shadowhelm stood up and turned a piece of meat on a branch that served as a spit over the fire. "How often do dragons need sleep?" he asked Kalena.

She shrugged. "This one seems to sleep all the time."

###

Romarin gazed into the rising sun as its rays danced along the eastern sea. They lay on a sheltered bluff overlooking the eastern sea. Romarin caressed Joreid's silver-gold hair as she lay beside him under the thick cloaks, but his mind was on the Prophecy and the Swords of Destiny. Joreid was right in many ways: he had to seek the Swords again – this time, in spite of his fears. He looked down at the silver gauntlet and flexed the fingers thoughtfully. Romarin had told no one how he had lost his hand nor why he had abandoned this quest so quickly long ago.

Romarin's own Sight had told him that Shadowhelm was a player in the Swords of the Lachlan. What Romarin had failed to do was tell the Shara'kaithat the very sword he wielded was one of the great Swords of Destiny. Romarin knew now that he should have accepted the sword from Shadowhelm, but fear convinced Romarin that Shadowhelm should wield Eihwaz.

Joreid stirred, her golden eyes flickered open and she smiled at him. Romarin kissed her tenderly and continued to stroke her hair. "I dreamt of the Swords of the Lachlan last night," she said.

"That isn’t surprising," he replied. "They’ve been on my mind as well."

"The blade you carry isn’t fit for you," she said. "You should wield one of the Lachlan's swords."

Romarin nodded. "Perhaps you’re right," he said. "Perhaps it’s time to seek Uruzonce more."

Joreid shook her head. "Not Uruz," she said. "Eihwaz."

Romarin turned his gaze to the rising sun as it lapped the waters; dawn's first rays were rose-colored. "Eihwaz," he repeated.

"You’ve never wielded that sword, have you?" she asked.

Romarin shook his head. "No, Nevfaras died before I was born. Allarun took his skull and the Sword to his temple."

A silence ensued and Joreid shivered. Romarin instinctively drew her closer. Joreid chuckled as she lay against him. "My warriors will be looking for me soon," she remarked coyly. "I would imagine it would be, well, unseemly for them to find me here with you."

Romarin laughed. "Aye, perhaps."

"Is there anyone else?' she asked suddenly.

Romarin paused as Kalena's image appeared in his mind. He was surprised how quickly he dismissed it. "No, not really," he admitted. "Only perhaps one who could not return like feelings."

Joreid nodded. "This is good," she said. "I will not have another contender."

"There have never been any true contenders," Romarin replied.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Despite Shadowhelm's impatience, Kalena's assessment of the dragon's sleep habits turned out to be prophetic. Haegl slept the entire day while they ate, talked, and practiced fighting. As the sun began to sink low in the western horizon, Shadowhelm turned to Kalena, who had thrown a few pieces of wood on the fire.

"Where do you think Uruzis?" he asked.

Kalena shrugged. "Romarin had searched for that sword many years before.""And was unsuccessful, I know. How did he lose his hand?"

She shook her head. "Romarin never said. Not even to me. But the gauntlet may provide a clue. It is a deep, powerful magic that only the gods wield."

"Romarin uses his left hand to hold a sword though – he was right-handed, wasn't he?" Shadowhelm mused. "And he gave up searching for Uruzafter that, didn't he?"

"That was many years ago," Kalena remarked. "Before I was born. But, he would always seem evasive when I asked him about the Sword."

"That may be something – it may be nothing," Shadowhelm observed.

"He was direly injured when he sought Uruz," she said. "Those who are alive to remember it say he was near death when they found him on the Darkling Plain."

Shadowhelm shuddered. "I do not like that place."

"Neither does Romarin," she said. "He does not return willingly to those fields. He says he can feel death there."

Shadowhelm nodded. "Yes, I could feel it as well. Tell me what you know of the Battle of Darkling Plain. Perhaps we can guess what happened to Lachlan's great sword."

"There isn't much to tell," she said. "Our people were constantly at war. Lachlan sought to unify the Eleionas never before. He knew we were a great race with unlimited potential."

"So he sought to unify the Houses – under force, if necessary." Shadowhelm shook his head.

"No!" she said. "Most of the unification went peacefully. The Lochel, Elesil, and even the war-like Laddel swore fealty without a single drop of blood shed. The fighting began when Lachlan sought to stop the Eltaraggressions."

"Why am I not surprised?" Shadowhelm remarked.

Kalena shrugged. "A young Eltarnamed Allarun proved the key to Lachlan's victory. Allarun was a first-blood in his own House, albeit distant from the throne. Allarun wouldn’t have made king without half his cousins dead. Of course, no one knew his sire was none other than Areyn Sehduk, the death god. Allarun convinced half his people to join his cause and the battle that ensued was quite bloody."

"Nothing like a fight among kindred," Shadowhelm said. "The Northmen have had their own share of bloody clan wars."

"The only Houses left were the Silrenand the Falarel – both Eleion descended from the Laeca, the lesser gods. Neither trusted Lachlan or Allarun. They wouldn’t join the Alliance of Swords. Lachlan would have perhaps let them be had it not been for two things. One was Allarun's counsel – Lachlan had slowly grown to trust the EltarKing even more so than his own brother, Elsonre. The other was Cara of the Silren."

“Cara?” Shadowhelm repeated. “You mentioned her before. The one whom Lachlan would’ve had as a consort.”

“It’s really quite a sweet story. Lachlan had fallen in love with Cara, the daughter of Silvain, king of the Silren. The story goes that they fell in love and Silvain refused to give her hand in marriage, so Lachlan kidnapped her.”

Shadowhelm shook his head. "Gods protect us from women! I swear, more battles have been fought over a pretty face than all the lands from here to the southern oceans!"

Kalena laughed. "I suspect that Lachlan would have fought the battle regardless. Allarun had convinced Lachlan that the only way to keep the Eleiontogether was through the forging of the Swords of Destiny."

"Why?"

"The Swords were a focal point for Lachlan’s powers. However, it made Lachlan just as vulnerable if one of the Swordwielders turned against him. If Lachlan knew this, he discounted it, for he trusted both Allarun and Elsonre with his life. A trust he would soon regret."

"Darkling Plain," Shadowhelm said.

"Yes," Kalena said softly. "Lachlan forged the three swords with Haegl on that very plain. The battle that followed was the bloodiest ever seen by the Eleion. Silvain was captured and brought to Lachlan. It was then Allarun turned on them all. Allarun slew Silvain and then attacked Lachlan. Legend says Uruzshattered under the very blow of Hagalazand Lachlan fell. Before the light faded from his eyes, Lachlan cursed Allarun and swore that Lachlan himself would return as a first-blood of the Lochvaurand would slay Allarun with the very sword that was now in shards. Elsonre and what forces were left fled as Allarun used Hagalazto bring the fireworms and the Yeth Hounds against them."

"What happened to Uruzafter that?" Shadowhelm asked.

"No one really knows," Kalena shrugged. "Wherever it is, it’s no longer on the Darkling Plain – Romarin searched for it there many years before. Some believe that the Lachlan's soul and the souls of the dead walk that place at night. On the winter solstice, the sky is filled with the dead as they fight that terrible battle over and over. So they are doomed for eternity.”

Shadowhelm chuckled.

“You don't believe me?”

"We were there on the Darkling Plain at night," he reminded her. "I saw no ghosts."

"Perhaps because you weren't looking for them."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I have felt the dying echoes of men before – and I felt something akin to it on Darkling Plain. But ghosts? Ghost stories are for children, Kalena."

"The Northmen believe in ghosts," she said.

"I don't fear the living," Shadowhelm replied. "And I won’t fear the dead. The dead are dead. If the dead do not rest, then perhaps the living must take on their cause."

"Noble words, Shara'kai, but we will soon see them tested," said Haegl. He stood next to them in Eleion form.

"Where are we going?" Shadowhelm asked.

"To the Darkling Plain," the dragon replied. "To talk to these ghosts you don’t believe in."

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"She's dangerous, you know that," Falar said. The Eleion prince sat at one of the mead hall's tables, meeting Romarin's gaze.

The chamber was no longer smoky or dark. Instead, shafts of light from the outside dotted the cavern with natural light. Most of Romarin's warriors were in the chamber, having nowhere else to go except the prison cells. Some ate the rations the Haell could provide, but many set to work repairing armor or trying to make Haellarmor fit.

The King sat with a stout yew longbow and a quiver of heavy clothyard arrows. He picked up an arrow and eyed it. Its shaft was as thick as his fingers. "By Rhyn'athel's blood, these things are monsters!" Romarin said with a grin. "Joreid tells me they can pin a horse and rider to the ground. Do you think our longbow men can handle these bows?"

Falar grimaced. "You're not listening to me," he growled. "She's a sorceress, Romarin. She's dangerous."

Romarin chuckled. "Aye, she is," he admitted. "Noticed that I was gone last night?"

"How could we not?"

"I didn't know that my whereabouts were monitored so carefully."

"You're my king," Falar said. "I'm supposed to know where you are."

Romarin put down the arrow. "Falar, old friend, you’re worried for naught. The Haellare now our allies. I can't think of an ally I would rather have." He grinned. "Besides, Joreid isn’t the only one who’s dangerous."

The watch-horn rang through the caverns, interrupting them. "It looks like we have more to worry about than just the Haell," Romarin said, drawing his sword.

###

Falar followed Romarin to the cavern’s main gate. It was a large bronze door, carefully crafted by the Haellsmiths, bound with iron, and embellished with runes. Joreid stood with Foxfire, talking rapidly in their tongue.

"What's going on?" Romarin asked, barely able to pick up a word between the two.

Joreid turned to him, her golden eyes glinting in concern. "Foxfire tells me that five hundred soldiers are marching our direction."

"Five hundred? That’s too small to be Allarun’s army," Romarin said.

"He says they're not Eltar. They're Ansgar and Shara'kai. Some Eleion."

"Then they’re ours," Romarin said. "Those might be some of our men we lost in the canyon. Were there two Lochvaur and a dragon among them?"

"No Lochvaur," Foxfire said.

"Are you sure? One of them would've been a Shara'kai." He glanced at Joreid. "Shadowhelm and Kalena would be leading them."

Foxfire shook his head. "No Lochvaurand no dragon. We certainly wouldn't miss a dragon." He chuckled.

Romarin nodded. "No, you wouldn't, even in his Eleion form. Haegl is a shapeshifter, but he is quite distinctive even in his Eleionform."

“I would’ve sensed the dragon called Haegl if he were in Haell lands,” Joreid said.

Romarin nodded and turned to Foxfire. "Can you lead us to the army?"

"Aye," Foxfire grinned. "I can even get you close enough to touch them without them seeing us."

###

Shadowhelm gazed outside the cave. The sun had set beyond the western sea – its last rays turned the water crimson. "It is almost dark right now," Shadowhelm said. "It'll take most of the night to fly to Darkling Plain."

"We're not flying," Haegl said. "You can take us there with Eihwaz."

Shadowhelm stared. "How?"

"You did it once."

"But that was Romarin," Shadowhelm objected. "He knew how to use the sword."

"And you don’t?" Haegl asked. "Are you so certain of that?"

Shadowhelm looked to Kalena for advice, but saw that she too looked at him curiously. "You don't think you can use the sword's powers?" she asked. “Not after you stopped the fireworms?”

"I'm not sure – I don't know how," he admitted. Shadowhelm drew the sword and stared at the glowing blade. "I think your swords must touch the blade." Kalena drew her sword and Haegl drew the small dagger that he kept on him while in Eleion form. They laid their blades across the broadsword.

Concentrate, the voice said in his mind.

Shadowhelm closed his eyes and allowed the blade's power to fill him. What do I do? At once, the words came unbidden to his mouth. "Alla acnu Lochvaur, ella parthna!"

Shadowhelm shuddered as he felt the pull from Eihwaz. The power flowed from the sword and filled him. It pulled him off his feet and he felt as though the universe spun around him dizzyingly. Still, he held on.

Then, he was on firm ground. Shadowhelm opened his eyes and saw that he was standing on the Darkling Plain. Although it was cold, he was drenched in sweat and he collapsed on the ground in sheer exhaustion, dropping Eihwazbeside him. At the same time, he felt as though something had sucked the air from his lungs and pressed against his body. "By the gods," he whispered hoarsely. "What a cursed place!"

The dread of this place now weighed on Shadowhelm. He had felt it the last time, but the dragons had distracted him from the full impact. He stared across the barren plain weighed down by the feeling of foreboding.

It will get worse each time you return.

Shadowhelm had no doubt of that. "What is it?" he whispered.

You feel Lachlan's death.

"Are you all right?" Kalena asked, crouching beside him. "You look awful."

Indeed, he did, Haegl reflected as he watched Shadowhelm. The Shara'kaiwas pale and sweaty, seemingly oblivious to either of them. Shadowhelm stared blankly into the sky, his lips moving in inarticulate words. The dragon strode over and laid a hand on the Shara'kai's shoulder. Shadowhelm jerked his head up and stared for a moment, glassy-eyed. "Haegl, my friend…"

"Take my hand, Shadowhelm," Haegl said.

Lucidity entered the Shara'kai'seyes and he smiled grimly as he took the proffered hand.

"What happened?" Kalena asked.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I don't know," he said.

"This place affects most first-bloods," said Haegl. "Although some more than others. Romarin hates this place for that very reason. It is almost as though you live in a half-life here."

"It’s worse this time," Shadowhelm remarked. "It will get worse each time I return."

Haegl gave the Shara'kaian appraising look. "How do you know that?"

Shadowhelm paused. "I just do."

"What do we do now?" Kalena asked, shifting her gaze from one to the other.

"We wait," the dragon said.

###

Shadowhelm and Kalena sat back-to-back as Haegl paced restlessly, still in Eleionform. Shadowhelm sat cross-legged, Eihwazresting on his knees. He could feel the voices and emotions as they drifted across the vast fields, but felt comfort gripping the Sword of Power.

"You know, it would be warmer if we had a fire," Kalena grumbled.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "With all the dragons around, we don't want to call one to our position," he said.

"It's damn cold," she said, wrapping her cloak tighter around her body. "I'd prefer even that cave over this."

Shadowhelm had to agree. It had taken all his mental strength to maintain his sanity in what he now considered a hellish place. He didn't dare sleep for fear that the voices and feelings would pervade his dreams. "Tell me about Elsonre," he said.

Kalena turned her head. "Elsonre?"

"Yes, Lachlan's brother. The line which all the first-bloods come from."

"Elsonre was a great warrior," Haegl said. "He was much like Lachlan, but maybe not quite as rash. That may have saved his life in the Battle of Darkling Plain."

"What happened to him after the battle?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Elsonre took what few Lochvaurwere left and fled Allarun's armies. Many Eleionsearched for caves to hide in; others, fled to the dark forests. Still others fled north."

"To the Northlands?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Yes, but many didn’t survive," Haegl said. "What few Shara'kairemain there are the descendants of Lachlan's army."

Shadowhelm grinned. "No wonder Shara'kaiNorthmen are tougher. We come from warrior stock."

"Indeed, you do," Haegl said.

"But what happened to Elsonre?"

"Elsonre was killed in battle not far from here," Kalena said. "It was called the Second Battle of Darkling Plain." She paused. "Those were dark times – Allarun was worse then. Allarun knew that Elsonre's heirs would fulfill the curse Lachlan uttered, since Lachlan had no progeny. Elsonre, however, had sired three sons and a daughter."

Shadowhelm nodded. "Has Allarun hunted each successive generation?"

"Almost," she said. "Allarun would grow complacent for a while and then something would cause him to search for the Lachlan yet again."

"The plague of having the Sight," Haegl grinned. "Allarun sees his own death at the hands of the Lachlan."

"But Allarun has decimated the Lochvaur. We’re all that is left," Kalena sighed.

"What isthe Sight?" Shadowhelm asked.

"All first-bloods have it, being descendants of the son of Rhyn'athel," Haegl said. "Allarun has it because he is the son of Areyn Sehduk. You have a connection to the Wyrd – that is, the great web that spins the past, present, and future.”

“The Wyrd,” Shadowhelm repeated. “And this Wyrd controls our destinies?”

“Yes,” the dragon said.

“No strand of ethereal web controls my destiny.”

“Are you so sure?” Haegl asked. “Look at the Prophecy, Shadowhelm. You are tied to it as surely as I am. As surely as Romarin is.”

“You’re tied to it?” Shadowhelm asked. “How?”

“I am a Fyr-dragon – a creature born from the great fire of creation and destruction. The Fyr is the fire of the Wyrd and with it, Lachlan created the Swords of Destiny. It was my fire that gave Lachlan access to the Fyr, itself.” The dragon paused. “For you to use a Sword of Destiny, you must indeed be first-blood. I should’ve guessed when you heard my and Romarin’s mindspoken conversation.”

"I can’t mindspeak," Shadowhelm replied.

Cannot or will not?

"Yet, you can hear it and your mental defenses are formidable," Haegl remarked. "I don't think even Allarun can penetrate your mental shields."

Shadowhelm was about to reply when he saw a shadowy figure appear and walk towards them on the hill.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Foxfire led Romarin, Joreid, and Falar to the hillside just beyond the cavern. The ground was rocky here and sparse in vegetation. Beyond the river, the Eastern Sea crashed on the rocky crags and beach.

"It's more like a desert," Romarin remarked.

Joreid shook her head. "This wasn't even part of the Haell holdings under Lachlan's rule. We held the Shadow Mountains and the lands where Caer Sithar sat, but we dared not claim them because they were too close to Allarun's realm. Sitharel was Nevfaras' sire, was he not?"

"Aye, he was," Romarin said. "Sitharel built Caer Sithar five hundred years after Darkling Plain."

"I remember that," Joreid said. "Bryanna was not pleased."

"You remember?" Falar asked in amazement.

"I was young then," she said wryly.

"Shhh! Look, there they are!" Foxfire whispered, pointing to the line of soldiers winding their way through the small gulch.

Romarin shielded his eyes from the late morning sun. His gaze fell on the lead riders. One was a tall Ansgarin battered chainmail, unshaven with graying brown hair. "It's them," he said. "Mic's leading them. They must have caught up with some of our warriors who escaped the rock serpent."

"I see Eachan," Falar said. "His helm glints in the sunshine – he must have joined the mercenaries."

"That's five hundred more," Romarin said. "Maybe we can find out what happened to Shadowhelm."

###

"It's bloody hot through here," Mic grumbled, looking up at the sun. He turned to the Shara'kaifree-lancer. "Are you certain they would have gone this way?"

Eachan shrugged. "The river flows this way. Whether or not they washed out to sea is another possibility. For all I know, the savages could've gotten them."

"Savages?" Mic said.

"Haell– these are their lands and they guard them jealously," Eachan said. "They'll kill anything that comes through…"

"Our reputation precedes us," Joreid remarked to Romarin.

Eachan reined his horse hard as four figures appeared. The warriors drew back in shock, having been taken by surprise. "Sweet gods!" Eachan exclaimed, looking down on the four. "Romarin?"

Mic laughed. "It is!"

"Aye, it is," Romarin replied. "And you’d be dead if we were Eltar. You shouldn't be so careless."

Eachan frowned. "You weren't there a moment ago. Where'd you come from? The ground?"

Joreid laughed. "The Haellhave been accused of such."

Eachan stared. "You're a Haell?"

"You do look savage," Romarin grinned at Joreid.

"Where’s the Shara'kaicalled Shadowhelm?" Joreid asked.

Mic paused and glanced at Eachan. "I thought Shadowhelm would be with you, Romarin. He and the Chi'landeparted Caer Llaen on the dragon the same time we left."

Romarin glanced at Joreid. "This doesn’t bode well."

###

Shadowhelm leapt to his feet, sword in hand, as he saw the ghost walk through the dark grasses of Darkling Plain. "Wait!" he shouted and sprinted towards the figure.

"Shadowhelm! What are you doing?" Kalena shouted. "Come back!"

Shadowhelm ignored her cries. He could just barely make out the apparition as an Eleionwarrior. The markings on the warrior's surcoat were Chi’lan– perhaps the warrior had been Lochvauras well. He was tall with a long mane in the old warrior style.

"What’s he doing?" Kalena gasped.

Haegl raised his hand for silence.

The figure continued walking, ignoring the Shara'kai. Not to be deterred, Shadowhelm stood before the apparition.

"Halt!" he demanded, raising Eihwaz. The power of the sword flowed through him.

The apparition halted and stared as though it had seen the Shara'kai for the first time. "Who are you?" the creature spoke.

"I am Shadowhelm of the Lochvaur," he said. "Bearer of the Sword of Destiny, Eihwaz. Who are you?"

The apparition met the Shara'kai'sgaze. "You are a kinsman, then, Shadowhelm of the Lochvaur. For I am Haellsil, kinsman of Lachlan. I have walked these fields for nearly a thousand years. You are the first of the living to have ever been able to speak to me."

Shadowhelm bowed his head. "Then, I am honored, Kinsman, for I seek the Sword of Lachlan. The sword, Uruz."

Haellsil gazed into the Shara'kai'sface. "You are much like Lachlan," he said. "Know you that another has sought that very same blade."

"Romarin," Shadowhelm said. "I know. Romarin and I are the last of the first-blood Lochvaurand Allarun is still strong."

"Seek the Children of Ni'yah, for they are still loyal to Lachlan," Haellsil replied. "Laddel may have what you seek."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "Can you speak more clearly? I don’t understand."

The ghost smiled. "Seek Laddel, my Kinsman. He would know who took Uruzfrom the battle."

Shadowhelm nodded. "Thank you," he said.

The apparition placed a hand on his shoulder. The touch felt like a cold breeze. Despite the touch, Shadowhelm stood steady and met Haellsil's gaze. "My Kinsman, you must bring back Lachlan. Only then will we know peace. Those who were loyal to Lachlan are now shadow warriors, existing only between life and death. We can’t leave the half-life and yet we can’t return Elren. This is the terrible existence Allarun forced us to live."

“Caught between life and death,” Shadowhelm murmured. He gazed at the apparition in pity. "I’ll do this."

The apparition bowed his head and vanished. Suddenly, thousands of apparitions filled the Darkling Plain. Shadowhelm stood still as thousands of Eleionmarched and rode past him. They took no notice of the Shara'kaior the other two figures on the hill. As suddenly as they appeared, they vanished.

###

"What did it say?" Kalena asked as Shadowhelm walked back.

Shadowhelm shook his head. As he did so, Kalena realized how worn out the Shara'kailooked. His face was gaunt and pale and he sheathed Eihwazas though he barely had the strength to do it. "Let us leave this cursed place," he said. He turned to Haegl. "I’m too tired to use Eihwazagain. I know it’s risky to fly now, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take. Take me anywhere – just away from here."

Haegl nodded and transformed into dragon form. Kalena climb onto the great beast and offered the Shara'kaiher hand. "Are you all right?" she asked as he sat in front of her.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "It's this place," he said. "The sooner we leave, the better I’ll be. Hold onto me – I may not have enough strength to hang on."

Kalena wrapped an arm around him as Haegl launched into the sky.

###

Shadowhelm awoke to sunlight in his face as it slipped between the dark boughs of various conifers overhead. He found himself lying next to a small fire, wrapped in warm blankets. He felt shaky but he could feel his strength slowly returning. Kalena or Haegl must have removed his sword belt when they arrived in the forest because Eihwazlay next to him. His hand instinctively reached for the Sword of Power and he closed his fingers on the jeweled pommel.

"You're awake," Kalena said. Shadowhelm craned his neck to see the Chi'lanwarrior sitting on a log beside him. "Can you sit up?"

"I think so," Shadowhelm said and slowly sat up. "How long have I…?"

"Been out?" Kalena finished his sentence. "We were on the Darkling Plain three nights ago. You fell unconscious shortly after we took flight. It's a good thing I did have a hold on you."

"Thank you," he said. "Where are we?"

"In the Dark Forest outside of the Darkling Plain, bordering the Laddeldominion," she said. She handed him a cup of warm liquid. "Drink – it will give you strength."

Shadowhelm tasted the liquid. It tasted faintly of medicinal plants and chamomile, laced with honey.

"What happened on the Darkling Plain?" she asked. "The first time we were there, it hardly affected you."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "The voices were stronger this time and it took most of my energy to keep them at bay. It was almost as if being there drank my very life force." He shrugged. "Perhaps it was because I was so close to those spirits – their dying emotions emanate from that place."

"Romarin hated the Darkling Plain," she said. "I am sure he only took us there the last time because he felt that we had no choice. Otherwise, I am certain he would not go back."

"Haegl said it affects first-bloods," Shadowhelm mused. "You’re lucky that you are unaffected." He looked around. "Where’s Haegl?"

"Hunting – as normal," Kalena said. "He seemed to think you'd be around sometime today – dragons have an uncanny way of knowing these things." She paused. "Shadowhelm, what did the ghost say to you?"

"Seek Laddel," he said.

"Not 'the Laddel'?" Kalena asked.

"No," said Shadowhelm, taking another mouthful of tea. "Now that I think about it, he used the word Laddel as a name, not a people. But the Laddelmay be a place to start. They are a warrior clan. The ghost called them the Children of Ni'yah."

"They're savages," she stated. "They respect nothing except a sword. Only the Haellare worse – if that's possible."

"But they're Eleion," Shadowhelm remarked. "One of the few Houses that still survive."

"Not even the Soul-Eaters will approach their forest," Kalena said.

"The Laddelwere loyal to Lachlan," he reminded her. "There may be a few that still remember their pledge."

"They're more likely to remember the failure," said a voice.

Shadowhelm wheeled around, sword drawn. Haegl stood placidly in Eleionform. "I’m glad to see you’re awake, but you need to be more alert, Shara'kai," the dragon said with a slight smile.

"You shouldn't sneak up on me," Shadowhelm grumbled. He sheathed Eihwaz. "I'm likely to cleave you in two before I recognize you. How much did you hear?"

"Most of it," said the dragon. "Kalena is right – the Laddelare dangerous. Even in Lachlan's time, other Eleionconsidered them wild. Their beserkers are legendary and even Allarun won't enter their lands."

"Haellsil told me to seek Laddel…"

"Haellsil?" Haegl gripped Shadowhelm's arm. "You spoke to a Chi'lanwarrior named Haellsil?"

Shadowhelm stared at the dragon. "Yes, I did. Why? Is that important?"

"Haellsil was the half-brother of Lachlan and Elsonre," said Haegl. "He died with Lachlan on the Darkling Plain." He paused. "This changes much. If Haellsil told you to seek the Laddel, then perhaps we should."

"Romarin would know," Shadowhelm mused. "The path I am taking must be the same as when he searched for Uruzall those many years ago."

Haegl nodded. "Right now, you need food and rest," he said. "I’ll search for Romarin."

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Haegl flew over the Shadow Mountains as dusk settled over the land. Being as ancient as he was, he was larger than most of his species and feared little. The years had made his armor almost impenetrable, with scales both above and below. Fireworms were seldom a threat, as most could not wrap around him. The two fireworms that had attacked him after Caer Llaen were unusual for their size, but even then, he probably could have handled them if he had not carried passengers.

The dragon made a slow turn, catching the last of the thermals as they rose off the land. Romarin’s army had vanished; he saw no sign of them in the alternative camps. Haegl’s eyesight was excellent and he could discern remnants of a battle even from this height. He saw the long line of Allarun’s Eltartroops in the valleys nearby, but no sign of Romarin’s army.

Reluctantly, he turned around and headed back. The stars were out and the first moon would rise soon. Shadowhelm would be disappointed, but without Romarin and Romarin’s army, they would have to search for the Laddelalone. Haegl was too preoccupied in this thoughts to see the dark shadow flying swiftly towards him.

###

Shadowhelm too, was lost in thought. He held Eihwazflat in his hands, gripping the sword’s hilt and blade with gauntleted hands. As he did, a jumble of visions flashed in his mind; some from the past, but many were from the future. He stared unseeing into the dark sky, trying to comprehend the feeling he had.

"I didn't know I was such a bad cook," Kalena remarked.

Her voice drew Shadowhelm from his reverie and he glanced down at the untouched roasted meat. He shook his head. “No, I’m sure it’s quite fine,” he said. “I just don't know. I may be imagining things.” He sheathed the sword, sat down on the log beside the fire, and picked up the plate.

"What do you see?"

"A jumble of images," he said, taking a bite of the lukewarm food. "They’re indecipherable for the most part. But there’s this feeling I can't shake. Some impending doom. I'll feel better when Haegl is back on the ground."

"I won't," said Kalena. "Haegl will roast me alive if he finds out that you haven't eaten. You won't believe how he fussed over you while you were unconscious."

"Really?" Shadowhelm asked. He chuckled.

"Yes – he believes you're the Lachlan," she said.

"I think he's a bit premature," Shadowhelm remarked. "Yes, some very strange things have happened to me, especially since I drew Eihwaz, but I don’t I have the power of a son of Rhyn'athel."

Kalena grinned. "Then, you do believe in the Lachlan?"

Shadowhelm smiled wryly. "Perhaps I do," he admitted. "Only a foolish man would deny his own senses. These past several days have given me much to think about."

"What changed your mind?"

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I don’t know," he said. “I don't understand it. It's been many things – Haegl, the fireworms, my fight with Allarun – but mostly, it's been the sword."

“Eihwaz?”

"I don't know how to explain it. It’s like I'm relearning a skill – I know what it feels like when I do something right, but I can't always quite get there. It's as if I've known how to use this sword all along." He glanced at her. “It’s changing me too. When I touch it, I can feel its power reshaping me each time.”

"Perhaps you were meant to wield Eihwaz."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I don’t think so," he said. "I believe Romarin made a dreadful mistake not taking this sword."

"How so?" Kalena asked.

“Romarin is the one who’s destined to wield this blade, not I. I know this blade – and yet, I’m not its master. Romarin is." Shadowhelm paused and stared into the sky. A dark form flew overhead. "Haegl has returned," he said.

The dragon landed and shape-shifted immediately into his Eleion form. "I couldn't find the army," he said. "There are Eltartroops everywhere and Romarin's army appears to have vanished."

"Vanished?" Shadowhelm repeated, uncertain that he had understood the dragon correctly.

"Vanished – gone completely without a trace."

Kalena glanced at Shadowhelm. "Could they have been wiped out?"

"I would have seen signs of a battle," Haegl replied. "There are a few possible routes the army might have taken. One might be this route – the other might be through the Haell caverns."

"The Haellcaverns? That would be suicide!" Kalena said.

"They might not have had a choice," Shadowhelm mused. "It would explain much, though."

Haegl nodded. "Death would be certain by the hands of the Eltar – not so certain with the Haell. They are like the Laddel– savages – but they have no love for Allarun."

Shadowhelm nodded grimly. "We have a decision to make," he said. "We can try to find Romarin or seek the Laddel as Haellsil told me to do."

Kalena shook her head. "Caught between fire and dragons!" She paused and shrugged. "No offense, Haegl."

"None taken," the dragon replied. "Either way is not an easy road."

Shadowhelm drew the sword and gripped it again in both hands. He realized the gesture was becoming almost compulsive, but the steel felt comforting to his hands. He turned to see both Kalena and Haegl awaiting his decision. When did I become in charge? he wondered.

When you took the responsibility.

Shadowhelm gave the voice a mental acknowledgement. "Very well," he said. "Romarin is far from helpless – and we need that sword. We're nearly in Laddelterritory as it is. I say we should seek the Laddel."

Both nodded in assent.

A high-pitched scream interrupted them. Terror filled Haegl's face and he transmuted to his dragon form. Dragon-killer! Haegl's voice said in Shadowhelm’s mind. The dragon launched into the air.

"Haegl! No!" Shadowhelm shouted, but Haegl either didn't hear him or chose not to. The dragon sped away. A dark, winged shadow flew overhead and Kalena grasped the Shara'kai'sarm and dragged him into the trees.

"What in the gods' names are dragon-killers?" Shadowhelm exclaimed as they ran together, deeper into the dark forest.

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!" Kalena hissed.

They continued running silently as the forest became darker and more foreboding. Shadowhelm pulled his hand from hers and collapsed to the ground, still weak from the Darkling Plain.

Kalena dropped to a crouching position and pulled Shadowhelm next to her. They waited and listened for the next few moments as the creature screamed again – this time, in anger. Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena's face and saw fear in her eyes.

"What is it?" he whispered.

One loud scream filled the air and they heard a rush of wings as the creature flew off.

Kalena trembled. "By Rhyn'athel's blade, I never thought I would see one of those demons!"

"Demons?" Shadowhelm looked in the direction where the creature had gone.

"Yes, it is one of the nameless hordes that follows Areyn Sehduk, the death god," she whispered. "No one knows how many dragon-killers there are – some say that there is only one – but they are deadly. They attack and kill dragons for food. Occasionally, they have attacked and destroyed armies." She shook her head. "I don't think even the Lachlan could destroy such a beast."

Shadowhelm wrapped his free arm around her. "It's all right – it's gone now," he whispered.

"Stand up, both of you! Drop your weapons!" a voice behind them spoke.

Chapter Thirty

Haegl flew over the forest, fleeing the shadow-creature that pursued him. He had heard Shadowhelm's cries, but ignored them. The demon would leave the Shara'kaiand Chi’lan alone to pursue its natural prey. The dragon knew Eihwazmight be able to kill it, but Haegl would not risk Shadowhelm’s life. Not now. Fireworms were one thing; dragon-killers were another.

The dragon-killer was fast and gaining on Haegl. Like all demons, it could morph into anything it chose. Haegl glanced behind to see it take the form of a large black dragon. Haegl glanced down. He was now flying over the cliffs that towered above the ocean. The green waves stretched for miles beyond.

The demon flew, talons outstretched, right for Haegl. Haegl twisted in mid-air and charged the demon, breathing fire. Flames licked around the demon's skin, but did no apparent harm. It crashed into Haegl and the two plummeted towards the sea.

Haegl screamed as the demon bit deep into flesh – the dragon's scales offered no protection against this monster. Haegl whipped his head around, sinking his own teeth into the demon. The demon screamed and for a moment, contact broke and Haegl twisted in mid-air to avoid the icy plunge into the sea. The demon was not as lucky and slammed into the water. Bellowing in pain and rage, the demon flailed in the water for a moment, half-stunned, before leaping out at Haegl. The dragon turned again, skimming the water, and slashed at the creature with his sharp fangs.

But the demon latched onto Haegl's neck. Haegl rolled, trying to shake the creature, but couldn't. In desperation, he turned downward, hoping to drag the creature into the sea to loosen its hold.

The demon saw where the dragon was taking it, but too late. It loosened its grip, but Haegl grasped its neck and plunged into the deep water. Although creatures of the air, dragons were renown swimmers, and Haegl dragged the demon deep into the ocean. The demon flailed in the water, unable to breathe in its current form and unable to gain purchase on the dragon's slick hide. In Haegl’s grip, it could not transmute either. At last, it went limp in Haegl's mouth and the dragon swam towards the great underwater caverns, where he deposited the creature.

In one final effort, Haegl rolled a stone over the body and turned and swam up for air. Haegl burst out of the water and swam to shore. He dragged himself over the sand and collapsed. Blood oozed from his many wounds. Once or twice, he lifted his head, trying to maintain consciousness, but at last, he gave into the pain and weakness and fell into blackness.

###

Shadowhelm turned around to see three silver-haired Eleion standing before him. Shadowhelm and Kalena stared at the Eleion. They were shorter, stockier-built Eleion, more similar to the Shara'kai'sown build than to the taller, lighter structure Shadowhelm had seen with other Eleion. Although bitter cold, they wore only loincloths and capes made of wolf-skins. Their faces as wild as their manner, they had painted their skin with blue runes and magical markings. They pointed spears at both the warriors.

Kalena glanced at Shadowhelm. "I think they're Laddel," she whispered.

One Eleiongrowled low as his eyes fell on Eihwaz. "Give me the sword," he hissed.

"I would, but one touch would be your death," Shadowhelm replied evenly.

The Laddeldrew back slightly. "Ara canna ela whethu Lochvaur," he said to his companions.

"Do you understand what he's saying?" Shadowhelm whispered to Kalena.

"It's a dialect of EleionI've never heard," she replied.

A second Laddelstared at Shadowhelm's blade for a moment. "Eihwaz, cannu ela Shara'kae." The three stared at Shadowhelm blade. "Eihwaz?"

"You recognize it. Good," Shadowhelm said. "We just might get along much better now."

"Are you Lachlan?"

"I am first-blood," Shadowhelm replied. "I am called Shadowhelm. This is Kalena of the Long Sword, Chi'lanWarrior. We seek your king."

"I am called Kelersil," said the second Laddel. "It means Quickstar. My companions are Wolfsong and Firetree. You have brought a great evil to this forest, First-blood."

"The nameless terror," said Wolfsong. "Laddel will not be pleased."

Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena. "Laddel – could it be?"
Kalena shook her head. "I don't know."

"It hunted us," Shadowhelm said. "We are enemies of Allarun."

Kelersil grinned. "Then, we are friends." He lowered his spear and the two other Laddeldid likewise.

"We seek Laddel," said Shadowhelm, sheathing his sword and nodding at Kalena to do likewise. "I’ve been told that Laddel may know where Uruzmight be."

"The broken sword," Kelersil said, recognition entering his eyes. "You will make it whole again?"

"Perhaps," Shadowhelm replied. "Perhaps Romarin will."

"The Red Wolf," said Firetree. "I remember when he came searching for that blade. Did he ever find it?"

"No," said Kalena. "But we must."

The three Laddelconversed in the strange language before Kelersil spoke. "We’ll take you to Laddel, but no one has ever seen the path to Caer Ladren. Laddel will decide what to do with you. You may keep your weapon, Shara'kai, but you must wear a blindfold. We will take the Chi'lan'sweapon and blindfold her."

Kalena was about to object, but Shadowhelm shook his head. "We must, if we’re to gain their trust," he whispered.

“I don’t trust them,” she said. “I won’t go unarmed.”

Shadowhelm glanced at the three Laddelwarriors. "I don't think we have a choice. I have Eihwazanyway. If something happens, I can probably get us out."

"Hopefully without too many arrows or spears sticking in us," she replied.

The Shara'kaigrinned. "They're called the Children of Ni'yah. I happen to be rather fond of that wolf." He turned to the three Laddelwarriors. "We accept your conditions."

Kalena reluctantly handed over her sword and then both warriors allowed the Laddelto blindfold them. Shadowhelm felt Kelersil take his hand and rest it on the Laddel'sshoulder. The Laddelthen led them through the forest.

Although blindfolded, Shadowhelm found quickly that his other senses began to make up for the lack of sight. His ears, although less sensitive than a pureblood, were still attuned to the forest. The breeze brought the smell of forest and grassland as they walked through. And his own sense of touch told him whether he was in a forest, crossing a bog, or climbing a hill.

Hours passed and the Laddelwould take breaks and remove the blindfolds from Kalena and Shadowhelm. Because they had left their packs behind when they had fled the dragon-killer, they had to rely on the Laddelfor supplies. At last, around daybreak, the Laddelremoved Shadowhelm's and Kalena's blindfolds.

Kalena gasped at what she saw. Shadowhelm simply stared.

Before them stood an enormous fortress carved from stone and wood. Carefully crafted to look like trees and stone until the observer came close enough, the Laddelhad perfectly camouflaged the fortress to hide what Shadowhelm could only guess was an immense community within its walls.

Kelersil grinned. "We're not the savages everyone believes," he said.

Shadowhelm nodded speechlessly, still amazed at the grandeur. "I had no idea."

"No one does – and we like it that way," Wolfsong replied. "Our power is in our stealth. No one knows that our people survived Darkling Plain, and we prefer it to remain that way."

"Then why bring me here?"

"If you hadn't had Eihwazwith you, we wouldn’t have," said Kelersil. "But Laddel has the Sight and foretold that you would come."

"Laddel – he is a person?" Shadowhelm asked.

Kelersil and Wolfsong broke into laughter and began talking again in the Laddeldialect. "I'm sorry," Kelersil said, noting Shadowhelm's expression. "But you speak like one who knows nothing of his heritage."

Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena, who shrugged. "Let me say that there are gaps in my knowledge," the Shara'kaireplied. "I was raised with the Northmen, not Eleion."

"Then, Shadowhelm of the Northmen, you have much to learn," Kelersil said as they walked across the drawbridge and into the fortress.

Shadowhelm stopped abruptly. "There must be thousands of people here!" he gasped.

The Shara'kailooked on an entire city, built beneath the forest. Large redwoods and coniferous trees with trunks thicker than a house provided the roof and camouflage overhead. The light from the sun was emerald as it filtered between the pine boughs. Homes and shops lined the city walls and encircled a great keep. Silver-hair Laddelswarmed the streets, conducting daily business. Unlike the warriors who had brought Shadowhelm and Kalena to the forest city, the people were fully-clothed in brown and green.

"Not just people," said Kalena. "Eleion."

"Laddel," corrected Kelersil. "Look, they’re staring as much at you as you stare at us."

Shadowhelm looked around to see a small crowd had already gathered. He grinned. "Of course, most wouldn't have seen a Lochvaur in their lifetime."

"That’s not true – some of our greatest warriors remember Darkling Plain," Kelersil said. “Of course, we haven’t seen a Lochvaursince Romarin.”

“Romarin was here.” Shadowhelm gave Kalena a knowing glance. “Perhaps we’re on the right trail.”

“Or perhaps he found nothing,” Kalena said.

A Laddelwarrior approached them. He wore full armor and carried a broadsword. A silver tree emblazoned his surcoat. "Kelersil! Why have you brought strangers into our city?" he demanded. He looked at Shadowhelm suspiciously. "This one isn't even pureblood – he’s Shara'kai."

Shadowhelm felt Kalena's grip tighten around his arm as his temper began to rise. He pulled himself away. "I am Shadowhelm, First-blood of the Lochvaur, bearer of Eihwaz!" he said as he drew his sword. "I will not be treated like a common mongrel!"

The warrior halted and stared at Eihwaz. "By Ni'yah's fur – is this the Lachlan?"

"He seeks Uruz, Ladsil," said Kelersil.

Ladsil shook his head. "I never thought I’d see Eihwaz again after Allarun killed Nevfaras. How came you by this blade?"

"I took it from Allarun's temple," Shadowhelm replied, sheathing the sword.

"You were in the Temple of Death?"

"Shadowhelm disarmed Allarun in a fight," Kalena added.

Ladsil and Kelersil started speaking in their language. More than once, they used the name "Lachlan."

Ladsil nodded. "You must see my father, Laddel," he said. "Kelersil – come with us."

Wolfsong and Firetree left as Ladsil and Kelersil led the two Lochvaurwarriors to the great keep. The people continued to stare at them as they passed by. "Have you noticed – there aren’t any other Eleion other than Laddel?" he asked.

Kalena nodded.

"That isn’t entirely true," Ladsil said, as he led them into the keep. "After Darkling Plain, a large group of Eleion, mostly Laddel, escaped the fireworms and the Yeth Hounds. Over the years, the Laddelblood has eliminated most of the other traits, but you will see some pureblood Elesil, Haell, and even Lochelhere."

"No Lochvaur?" Kalena asked.

Ladsil shook his head. "The Chi'lanwere all but wiped out. If Elsonre hadn't survived, the Chi'lanmight have died to the last Eleion." He led them up a stairs and turned around. "This is Laddel's throne room. I realize that the Lochvaurare kings in their own right, but you are on Laddelland. Wait here."

Shadowhelm nodded and Ladsil opened the door. He strode in. "My king, there is a Lochvaurhere, bearing Eihwaz."

A voice replied from inside. "Bring the Shara'kaiin. I’ve been expecting him."

Chapter Thirty-One

It was late evening and Romarin paced restlessly in Joreid’s private chambers. He could not shake the uneasy feeling he had since he had heard the news that Shadowhelm and Kalena were missing. Even though Haegl accompanied them, Romarin knew that Allarun could send things that could even dispatch a Fyr-dragon like Haegl.

There had been something about the Shara’kaithat nagged him. Something familiar. Something that told Romarin that Shadowhelm was more than he appeared. Like Romarin, the Shara’kai seemed of two minds. And Shadowhelm was tied to the Prophecy as surely as Romarin knew he was bound to it.

What did Lachlan unleash all those many years ago?

Joreid watched him as he paced. She sat on the bed in the small private chamber, clad once more in Haellarmor. There was not much luxury here in the Haellcaverns – all she allowed herself was a bed and a wardrobe and privacy. Privacy that she had always been thankful for.

"You are concerned for your brother," Joreid said.

Romarin halted. "Brother? I have no brother."

“Yes, you do, Romarin, though you do not have the same mother. I'm surprised your Sight hasn’t shown this.”

A silence ensued and realization dawned on Romarin’s face. “Shadowhelm.”

Joreid nodded. “He, too, is a son of Rhyn'athel.”

Romarin shook his head. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. Shadowhelm even looks like me. And I named him my heir.”

“You knew – even though you didn’t admit it.”

Romarin arched an eyebrow at her. “All this time, I believed that I was the Lachlan. And yet, there may be another. Two sons of Rhyn'athel – one that no one knew existed. I must find him, Joreid. He may be the one we are looking for.”

Joreid stood up, took his hands, and pulled him toward the bed. Romarin smiled, finding himself unable to resist. He pulled her close into his arms and kissed her.

“Tomorrow,” she said, running her fingers along his face. "We’ll find Laddel and search for your brother.”

###

The next day, Romarin, Joreid, Falar, and Foxfire rode southwest towards the Laddelforest. The caves around the sea provided protection for the Haell, but traveling as they did, they were exposed. Romarin had seen fireworms in the horizon, forcing them to seek refuge more than once.

Romarin had wished Joreid remained behind, but he knew the Haell queen would not tolerate such coddling, so did not voice his opinion. On Joreid's request, he had chosen an enchanted blade from the Haellarmory – a strong broadsword capable of slaying even dragons.

Armor had been a problem. Romarin had no armor since his fight with the rock serpent and the Haellarmor was too small. Romarin towered over the Haellwarriors by a half-foot or more, but he was able to find a mailshirt and greaves that would serve. They rode forward across the sand dunes and the many streams that flowed into the ocean.

He pondered Joreid’s words from the previous night. If Shadowhelm was his half-brother as she said, then his presence complicated matters. It would not take Allarun long to figure out that Shadowhelm was a son of Rhyn’athel; perhaps, the Dark Lord already knew. After all, the Shara’kaihad wielded Eihwaz.

A pang of guilt twisted inside him. He should have told Shadowhelm the Sword’s name. He should have told the Shara’kaiwhat really happened when he sought Uruz. He should have put aside his pureblood pride and told Shadowhelm everything. Now, Romarin risked the Prophecy never being completed even if he was Lachlan.

He turned his thoughts to the Sight. Maybe the Wyrd would give him insight into what to do next. As he did, a vision flashed in his mind.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

Joreid reined her horse. “What did you see?”

“Haegl!” Romarin shouted. He turned his horse northward and spurred it to a gallop.

“Romarin! Wait!” shouted Joreid. She and the other Eleion rode after him.

Romarin urged the horse faster along the sands, oblivious to Joreid’s cries. The vision was powerful and he hoped it was not right. As he rode, something in the distance caught Romarin's eye. It grew in size as the bay stallion loped towards it.

The horse slowed to a canter and then to a trot as he approached. It was as he feared.

“Romarin!” Joreid’s voice brought him short.

“Oh gods,” Romarin said. He climbed off the horse and ran to the wounded dragon. “Haegl! Haegl!” he shouted as he approached the still form.

"Romarin – don’t!" Joreid shouted. “He might not recognize you!”

"Haegl!" Romarin gasped as he stood beside the wounded beast. He ran his hands over the dragon's cool scales. Haegl's still form was a mass of blood and deep scrapes with chunks of gouged flesh and terrible weals. He looked for any signs of life, but the dragon's dark scales were growing pale and there was no warmth. He could not even tell if the dragon was breathing.

Romarin turned to Joreid. “Is he dead?”

Joreid dismounted her blue roan and stood beside the dragon’s head. She pushed open an unresponsive eyelid to expose the near-glassy pupils and irises. She shook her head. "He’s alive, but just barely.”

“This is Haegl,” Romarin said. “He was with Shadowhelm and Kalena.”

Joreid looked grim. “Where are they?”

Romarin shook his head. “I don’t know – do you think Haegl could tell us?”

“He’s barely alive, Romarin, and he soon won’t be.”

“Can you do anything for him?”

“Not much,” she replied. "Whatever it was nearly killed him."

Falar and Foxfire rode beside them. Falar dismounted. “What can kill a full-grown dragon?”

“We can, but a big Fyr-dragon like Haegl is nearly impervious even to our weapons,” Romarin said. “Save perhaps adamantine.”

“These are talon rakes, not sword cuts," Falar said. "Fireworms can take down a dragon, but they don't have talons this big.”

"Dragon-killers," Joreid said.

"I thought those were a myth," Romarin said.

Joreid shook her head. “They're quite real – or at least one was. It wouldn't have settled to leave the dragon alive. Your friend gave better than he got.”

Romarin stared at the dragon for a moment and then turned back to Joreid. “What if he were to take an Eleionform? Could you do something then?”

“He’s a shapeshifter?”

Romarin nodded.

Joreid was silent. “I might be able to do something then,” she said at last. She walked back to her horse and rummaged in her pack. "If I can bring him to consciousness, you’ll have to convince him to transmute to his Eleionform."

“That’ll take energy – energy he doesn't have,” Romarin said.

“Do you want me to heal him? Or do we let him die?” She pulled out several vials, including one dark liquid.

“All right,” Romarin said. “Do what you have to.”

She strode over to the dragon's massive head and poured the entire vial into the dragon's massive jaws. "He should come around for a moment or two," she said. "You’ll have to convince him to transmute.”

Seconds went by and Romarin saw no change in the dragon pallor. But then, the dragon’s chest heaved once and then again. Much to Romarin’s alarm, the dragon’s lungs gurgled with each breath. Dark blood dripped from the dragon’s mouth. The dragon stirred, shifting his great head.

"Haegl! Haegl!" Romarin shouted. The dragon opened one eye. "Transform! Joreid says she needs you in Eleion form to heal you."

The dragon's eyes slowly closed and he lay still. The breaths became shallow and raspy. Romarin turned to Joreid who shook her head. "He may have heard you, didn’t understand," she said.

Romarin rested his hand against the dragon's still form. He thought perhaps the scales felt slightly warmer to his touch. Then slowly, the dragon's size decreased. The change took an agonizingly long time, but instead of a dragon lay an Eleion with black skin and bloody wounds. He looked awful even in Eleionform. Joreid gently turned him over.

“He's still alive,” she said. “Let’s get him back to the Haellcaves.”

###

Haegl awoke in a bed, his wounds bandaged and stitched. This was a new experience for the dragon, but he decided that because he was not dead, he would accept this treatment. He tried to remember what happened. He remembered the vicious fight and killing the demon. He remembered swimming towards the land. And then, his memory was blank. He must have landed or fallen unconscious after that. He did not remember transmuting.

He did, however, remember a voice. A familiar voice.

"I see you're awake, old friend," Romarin said from the entrance.

Haegl did his best to smile. It looked more like a snarl. "My friend, were you the one who found me?"

Romarin nodded. "You were nearly dead when we came upon you," he said. “You’re lucky Joreid is such an accomplished healer.”

“Shadowhelm and Kalena…” Haegl began and stopped as his throat began to burn.

Joreid walked in. “He needs rest,” she said, sitting beside the dragon and offering a cup of cool water. Haegl drank gratefully.

“What of Shadowhelm and Kalena?” Romarin asked, ignoring Joreid’s glare.

"They’ve gone to the Laddel," the dragon said. "Romarin – I saw Shadowhelm use the Sword."

Romarin's face darkened slightly. "How?"

"He controlled fireworms," Haegl said.

Joreid glanced at Romarin. "Could he be…?"

Romarin stood up to leave, his face unreadable. He turned as the guilt twisted deep inside him. “So, it comes to pass.”

Joreid stood up. “You don’t know that. You’ve never wielded Eihwaz.”

“Nevfaras couldn’t control fireworms.”

“Nevfaras wasn’t a son of Rhyn’athel,” Joreid replied.

"She’s right. My friend, you’re part of the Prophecy as much as Shadowhelm is," Haegl said. "He’ll seek the Swords. You, yourself, may be a Swordwielder."

“There are other roles in this conflict,” Joreid said. "Son of Rhyn'athel, you know what is right."

Romarin nodded. “I know.”

###

It was night when Romarin decided to leave the Haellcaves. Joreid slept soundly next to him, her still form did not move as he slid from the bed. Romarin paused to kiss her gently before quietly dressing and arming himself. He drew the Haellblade and gazed at it for a moment before sheathing it. It was a fine blade, but it was not his. His sword was with Shadowhelm – the sword that he had instinctively known was his and rejected outright. Why?

Joreid had seen many things he had failed to. The desire to be something that he was not – that he could never be – had weighed heavily on him. Joreid was right – he did have a role in the Prophecy – one he did not fully understand. Romarin glanced back at her sleeping form. Joreid had made him feel more alive than he had in a very long time.

Romarin knew he had to find Shadowhelm. To put right where he had failed. He gazed at the silver gauntlet on his hand – the symbol of his failure – and smiled grimly. Maybe the Wyrd had its way of teaching even a son of Rhyn'athel his place. Before leaving, he wrote on a thin piece of sheepskin parchment and left it at the foot of the bed.

The Haellknew him on sight and let him pass, even when he went to the stables. He saddled his own horse and rode out without a word. Joreid would understand, he thought.

Perhaps she did, for as he rode away, he chanced to look back. He saw her standing at the cave's mouth, gripping the parchment.

###

"Where’s he going?" Foxfire asked as he stood beside Joreid, watching Romarin ride off into the darkness.

Joreid handed Foxfire the parchment. "He has gone to find the Lachlan," she said.

Foxfire unfolded the parchment. On it was a single rune: Eihwaz.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Shadowhelm entered the throne room and stood before the king of the Laddel. The Shara’kai had seen Eleion before, but never one as old. Although Laddel’s face was ageless, his silver hair was almost completely white. His golden eyes were almost translucent and held a power that Shadowhelm could not begin to guess. The crown that sat on his head was a little more than a circlet – a braid of gold and silver that twisted into forms of dragons.

The throne room, itself, was quite plain. The throne was oak with intricate carvings and the wooden floors were bare of any coverings. A firepit sat before the throne with an opening to the sky.

Shadowhelm bowed and Kalena and Kelersil followed. "Your Majesty honors me with your presence," Shadowhelm said.

"Arise, Shadowhelm of the Northmen," said Laddel, his voice strong. "Ni'yah told me that you would seek the Sword of the Lachlan."

Shadowhelm smiled in spite of himself.

"I see you’ve already met Ni'yah," the King said. "Oh yes, I recognize your expression." He stood up. "Come closer, Shadowhelm, so that I might see you better."

Shadowhelm strode forward and met the old Eleion'sgaze. At once, he felt the mental push against his defenses. Shadowhelm did not flinch, nor did he yield. "You are much like Romarin," Laddel said at last. "But you are even more like Lachlan. Romarin came to me years ago, seeking Uruz, but he did not wield Eihwaz."

"You knew Lachlan?"

Laddel smiled. "Aye, I did," he said.

"How can that be?" Kalena asked.

Both turned to her. "Quite easily," said Laddel. "I did not die."

Shadowhelm almost laughed, but stared at the king in amazement. "You’re over a thousand years old?"

"I am over six thousand years old," Laddel replied. "Our people are a warrior-race, Shadowhelm – we would live longer if we didn't kill each other so readily. Even before the rift that caused us to form the Houses, the Eleionwere always fighting each other. Such is the way of the children of gods."

"Children of gods?" Shadowhelm repeated.

"My young friend, Lachlan, Elsonre, and Allarun were the last of those, save myself and Silvain, who were sons of gods. All the Houses came from the godlings who carved out our own kingdoms – Lochvaur, Lochel, Redel, Elesil, Haell, Silren, Falarel, Eltar, and Laddel. Have you ever wondered how those names came to be? Each House was named after the warlord who became king – or queen.

“I am the son of Ni'yah who founded the Laddelkindred. Just as Lochvaur was the son of Rhyn'athel. Haell was the son of B'lander, the fire god. Eltar was the son of Areyn Sehduk."

“How can this be true?” Kalena asked. “We don’t live that long.”

"No, because you either die in battle or the blood has thinned," Laddel replied. "The time of Eleionhas almost passed – it is time for the descendants of the Eleion."

"The Shara'kai?" Shadowhelm asked.

"And the Ansgar," Laddel added. "They are our legacy."

“They’re as war-like,” Kalena said.

"Perhaps, but they will be longer lived as a race than ourselves," Laddel said. "Perhaps it is fitting that Lachlan returns as a Shara'kai."

A silence followed and Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena and Kelersil. “You don’t know that,” he said. “You can’t tell me if I am Lachlan.”

“No, I can’t,” Laddel admitted. “But I see something of him in your eyes. You have the power and the ability to become him, if that is your destiny. Only one other man can make that claim."

"Romarin?"

"Yes." Laddel paused. “You will find Uruz, but once you set upon that road, there is no turning back. Although you may deny it, Eihwazhas changed you already in ways that you are just beginning to learn. You will touch Uruz, the Sword of Destiny, Shadowhelm, but I cannot tell you if it will bring you life or death. But, before you do, you must take Hagalazback."

Shadowhelm glanced at Kalena. "What of Allarun?"

"Allarun has already sworn your death – he fears you – as he fears Romarin. For you, Shadowhelm, are a son of Rhyn'athel."

A silence ensued and Shadowhelm stared at the ancient Eleion. “Are you sure?”

"You are the son of Elina, are you not?"

Shadowhelm caught his breath. “How could you know this?”

Laddel smiled. “I don’t need to read your mind, Shadowhelm. The Wyrd has shown me who you are.”

“Then, what do I do now?”

"Before you can find Uruz, you must take back Hagalaz."

"That would be suicide," Kalena objected. "Shadowhelm can't just pry the sword from Allarun's hand."

"But you disarmed him readily," Laddel remarked.

Shadowhelm frowned. "I came to find Uruz, not Hagalaz."

"And you will find both," Laddel said.

"What happened to Uruzafter Allarun slew Lachlan?" Shadowhelm asked, wondering if perhaps he was asking the wrong questions. The LaddelKing seemed to know so much, and yet seemed reluctant to speak of the sword. Shadowhelm wondered why.

Laddel smiled, his translucent eyes seemed to gaze beyond the Shara'kai. "That is one of the great mysteries, my young friend."

"Haellsil said that you would be able to help me."

"Yes," Laddel said. "You will not find the blade here."

"Do you know who took the sword?" the Shara'kai asked, a tinge of frustration coloring his voice.

"Cara of the Silren," he said at last.

"The daughter of Silvain?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Yes." The translucent eyes flickered.

"Where did she take the sword?"

"North."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "That isn't much to go on. Where north?"

"That is all I see."

"It's a start, I suppose," the Shara'kaiadmitted. "But where she went, could be anywhere within thousands of miles."

"You will be able to find it once you take Hagalaz."

"What role do the Laddelplay in this?" Shadowhelm asked. "You know that you cannot stay neutral forever. The line will be drawn – either by Romarin or by myself."

“We chose long ago, Shadowhelm, when we joined Lachlan,” Laddel said. "When Lachlan needs us, we will be there again." He turned to Kelersil. “Kelersil, you wish to join the Lochvaur in their quest for Uruz.”

“Yes, my king,” Kelersil said.

Laddel glanced at Shadowhelm. “Kelersil is my grandson – he is a great warrior. He will serve you well on your quest.”

Shadowhelm nodded. “Thank you.” He paused. “There was another who traveled with us.”

"Haegl."

"Yes, is he alive?"

"Perhaps. The dragon-killer is dead."

###

Shadowhelm strode out of the great hall. "I think he created more questions than he gave us answers," Shadowhelm muttered.

"That’s why I don't seek his counsel often," Kelersil grinned. "The times I have, I wished I hadn't."

"You should’ve told me that before I entered," Shadowhelm remarked. "Still, I suppose learning one's birthright is something."

"A son of Rhyn'athel," Kalena said. "That would make you and Romarin half-brothers."

"That complicates things considerably," Shadowhelm said.

"Why?" Kelersil asked.

"Because we've believed that Romarin is the Lachlan – now it is not so certain," Kalena said.

"One thing is for certain – that I was meant to find the swords," he said. His hand strayed to the pommel of Eihwaz. "Laddel was right – the sword is changing me."

Kalena eyed him curiously. "Why do you suppose?"

"It contains the power of the Lachlan," Shadowhelm said. "To a certain degree, those that use these swords become more like Lachlan."

"How can that be?" Kelersil asked. "Hagalazis Allarun's own weapon."

"Everyone has a dark side," Shadowhelm remarked. "Even Lachlan. But Hagalazis more than that. It means chaos, but also a destructive force. Lachlan could be both, when he desired it."

"How do you know this?" Kalena asked.

Shadowhelm met her gaze, as the voice seemed to speak through him. "I know."

Chapter Thirty-Three

Shadowhelm sat beneath the stars on a path within the Caer Ladren, listening to the sweet strains of Eleionharps and singing. Much of Caer Ladren was still forest, ringed by the great wall that fortified the city. All that day, he had walked among the Laddel – never had he seen so many Eleionat one time. They were different than the Eleionof Caer Sithar – fierce, determined warriors who looked on Shadowhelm as nothing less than the Lachlan's incarnation. Shadowhelm found their respect disconcerting, since he felt he had done nothing to warrant it. But, word spread quickly that he was none other than a son of the warrior god.

Son of Rhyn’athel. Son of the warrior god. Shadowhelm shook his head. He never really believed in the gods. And now, Laddel had told him he was the son of the most powerful of the Athel’cen. The idea was ludicrous, and yet, Shadowhelm could not but believe the king.

At an earlier time in his life, Shadowhelm would have dismissed the old Eleion’sprophecies as being ramblings of an old man. But there had been something unnervingly familiar about the elder king; something he could not quite place. What was more, Laddelknew who his mother had been – something he was sure the Laddelking could not know.

Shadowhelm had never known Elina, but he had heard she had been a great warrior. Could her fame have reached this far south? He thought it unlikely. No, the Laddelking knew him. Laddel had seen Shadowhelm through some kind of magic – magic that Shadowhelm did not quite understand and yet, could accept.

It was like the Sword of Destiny that hung at his side. Shadowhelm could feel the power of the blade even when it simply lay beside him. If anything had convinced him that Lachlan’s return was real, it was the Sword, Eihwaz, itself. Every time he used it; every time he touched it, he felt as though he was tapping into a part of himself that lay dormant. And he knew that had Romarin taken the sword, Romarin would have felt the same power as well.

The Laddelwould fight for Lachlan and none other. They would be the key to destroying Allarun if either he or Romarin could claim Uruz.

Kalena approached him. Shadowhelm smiled as she approached and rose to greet her. She wore a simple tunic and breeches like those the Laddelwore. Even in the simple clothing, she was beautiful. Her red-gold hair had grown out, softening the sharper Eleionfeatures and the clothing only emphasized her muscular build. He wanted to take her in his arms.

She is not for me, he reminded himself. She is Romarin's woman.

Is she? the voice asked.

"I was looking for you," Kalena said.

“Really?” he said.

She sat down on the bench beside him and looked up at the green canopy and the stars beyond. “Yes, really,” she smiled. “It must’ve been difficult to hear Laddel’s words.”

He shrugged. “Not really – although I must admit being a son of a god kind of took me by surprise.”

Kalena laughed and he did too. “I’ve been trying to imagine what hearing that would be like,” she said. “I mean, what do you say?”

“That I’m not just anybastard?”

“That’s not funny.” Kalena met his gaze. “It means you could be the Lachlan.”

Shadowhelm shrugged. “Yes, but I’d bet on Romarin. He’s a pureblood.”

“Pureblood isn’t everything.”

“Isn’t it? You seemed to think so back in the cavern.” As soon as the words came out, he regretted them. He saw the shock on her face and looked away in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“I deserved that, I suppose,” she said at length. “Shadowhelm, I’ve underestimated you more than once.”

“The price of being Shara’kaiamong purebloods.”

“No,” she said. “When I first saw you, I saw a thief who was being hanged.”

“And in Sehduk’s Keep? And afterwards?”

Kalena shook her head. “I don’t know.”

A silence ensued. Shadowhelm gazed up at the stars. “Funny.”

“What?” Kalena said.

“I never imagined a place like this before," he said, changing the subject. "And yet, I feel as though I’ve come home. No place, not even the Northlands, has ever felt so right."

“Lachlan's own fortress, Caer Lachlanel, was very much like this."

“Really?” he said. She nodded. "The Eleionare different here.”

"They haven't been through what we have," she said. "Allarun leaves the Laddeland Haell alone because there’s no Lochvaurblood here. They’re much as they were in Lachlan's time."

"But they’re not safe even here with Laddel's powers," Shadowhelm said. "There will come a time when Allarun will come into this forest and hunt them down – as he has hunted down the Lochvaur. That time will be soon."

"How do you know this?"

“I’m a first-blood, Kalena. All first-bloods have the Sight.” He paused and shook his head. “I used to think those dreams and visions I had were nothing more than insight, but that’s not true. All along, I’ve been tapping into the Wyrd and not realizing it. When Laddel told me I was Rhyn’athel’s son, something fell into place. Something that I never knew I had, but now know I can control. And Eihwazhas shown me how.”

“Then, if you have the Sight, do you know what happened to Romarin and Haegl?”

Shadowhelm paused and let his eyes shift out of focus. His hand strayed to the Sword’s hilt as he could feel the threads of the Wyrd within his mind’s eye.

Deep within his mind, he saw Romarin and Joreid lying beside each other. The words they spoke were in a language he did not know and yet, understood. The kindred’s name, too, came to his mind as though he had known them before: Haell. Shadowhelm shifted his mental gaze to see the dragon sleeping in his Eleion form; his wounds wrapped and tended to. “Romarin is with the Haell. Haegl is alive but recuperating from an injury.”

“That's a relief,” she said. She ran her hand through her red-gold hair. Shadowhelm caught her hand and held it for a moment. Kalena paused, met his steady gaze, and then turned away. He could feel her shiver with his touch.

Shadowhelm laid his hands on her shoulders. “Why must you turn from me, Kalena?”

Kalena shook her head. “It's Romarin – I can't…” She closed her eyes and trembled as he kissed her.

“Romarin doesn't love you,” Shadowhelm said. “But I do. I know you don’t love him.”

"I can't…"

“I didn’t lie to you when I told you that I loved you when we were in the caverns,” he said. “I’m a warrior, so I speak plainly. Kalena, I love you." He paused and turned her around so that she faced him. “I’ve tried to suppress my feelings for you, but I can't.”

“But Romarin...”

“Forget Romarin tonight. He has already chosen another.”

“How do you know?”

“The Sight has shown me. Romarin is with Joreid, queen of the Haell.”

Kalena stared at him. “Is this true?”

“I don’t lie – at least, not about this.” He took her hands in his own and kissed them gently.

“I don't know,” she whispered, but did not pull away. He could see the desire in her eyes, restrained by her sense of duty.

"I do," Shadowhelm replied, taking her in his arms and kissing her. Kalena’s resistance melt away as the Shara’kai held her. She returned his kisses with her own passion. Shadowhelm lifted her into his arms as though she weighed nothing.

Kalena laughed. "I have heard stories about the Northmen."

"Is that so?" Shadowhelm grinned, kissing her again. "You'll have to let me know if they're true," he said as he carried her deeper into the forest.

###

The sky had begun to lighten when Romarin reached the Laddel forest. It had been a long time since he had entered the Laddeldomain, but he was surprised how much he still remembered. The forest had changed in the past hundred years – the trees were older and larger – but it had essentially remained the same. It would be a two-day journey to reach the Laddelfortress.

The air was cold here and Romarin could see his breath in the early morning light. The days were growing shorter rapidly as it approached the winter solstice. He doubted he would see snow here this far south, but a mist was rising and the air was growing even colder.

He dismounted and tied his horse to a tree. He was hungry and had at least thought to pack some food before slipping out of the Haell caverns. He gathered some deadfall and dried pine needles and made a small fire. Hot tea and warmed bread with dried venison would have to do.

As he sat on a stone beside the small fire, his mind wandered to Joreid – he wondered if he should have brought her. She was a fine warrior and he could use the company, but he did not want to put her at risk. Allarun would be looking for him as he was looking for Shadowhelm. Both sons of Rhyn’athel were now a liability.

The mist had blanketed the forest. Romarin stirred the fire, but it did not want to burn in the high humidity. He shivered as the cold wind picked up and a lone howl echoed through the forest.

The hair prickled on the back of Romarin’s neck in warning and he drew the Haellblade. Something deep within told him that these were not ordinary wolves. The horse champed nervously and Romarin stood up and patted the horse to calm him. The howl was answered with softer voices as though the creatures were moving away, but Romarin took no comfort in it. Romarin racked his memory: it was an ancient nemesis of the Eleion. The words, Yeth Hounds, formed in his mind.

The Yeth Hounds. Romarin shook his head as if trying to clear those dreaded words from his mind. These beasts pursued Elsonre and his troops across the Darkling Plain after the great battle. If the howls came from those creatures, the Romarin knew he did not have a chance against them. Had Elsonre not had Eihwaz, the Yeth Hounds would have killed him.

The Haellsword seemed woefully inadequate. The softer howls were a ruse to make the intended victim think they were going further away. The softer the howl, the closer they were. Their voices told Romarin that they were approaching at frightening speed. Romarin climbed onto the skittish mount, knowing that the Yeth could outrun any horse. Still, he might be able to make it to a structure before they caught him.

It took nothing to urge the horse to a gallop. The steed ran in a blind panic and Romarin held on. The Yeth voices were everywhere. Everywhere and nowhere. The creatures moved with the mist that was beginning to rise.

Then Romarin saw them. The pack appeared out of nowhere. Dire wolves, twice a big as ordinary wolves, with ghostly white fur, saber teeth, and blood-red eyes. They appeared a hundred yards in front of Romarin, running towards him. The horse skidded and nearly threw Romarin from its back.

Romarin leapt from the horse and the crazed beast took off. A small group broke off from the main pack to chase down the unfortunate animal, but the rest headed for Romarin. Romarin held the sword ready, staring into those blood-red eyes.

The pack did not slow, but instead ran past him. Romarin watched in amazement as hundreds of the beasts parted and loped past. They were after other prey. Three wolves, however, did take notice of him and slowed as the others loped by.

Romarin did not wait. He yelled and attacked, sending the supernatural creatures in retreat. Romarin swung the Haellblade and it cut deep into the wolf. The animal screamed and vanished as Romarin pulled the sword from the body. The next two were more cautious, trying to circle behind the Lochvaurking.

Romarin knew their tactics. As one occupied the intended victim, the other would attack from behind. Elsonre had defeated this tactic by keeping his back to some ancient ruins. Unfortunately, the trees in this part of the Laddelforest were not large enough. He would have to take the creatures on their own terms.

One Yeth leapt at him, jaws snapping. Romarin dodged the attack in time to ward off the other wolf, springing from behind. He sliced into the wolf at the shoulder and the creature screamed, twisting and slashing its saber teeth into his arm. The light dimmed from its eyes and the animal disappeared.

But the other Yeth was already on top of Romarin, its teeth snagging on the chainmail as it bit into his shoulder. The beast was heavy and dragged Romarin down. Romarin rolled, knowing that the Yeth used those teeth to crush the windpipe and snap the vertebrae. The gorget on his armor protected his neck from the razor-sharp teeth as they slid by. The Yeth held him down, but Romarin's sword arm was still free. He struck once, twice. Blood sprayed everywhere and the creature screamed.

Then suddenly, it was silent.

Romarin lay panting on the ground, bloody and bruised. The Yeth slid off him and vanished. Howls echoed loudly through the forest, indicating that the Yeth were leaving the area. Romarin stood up slowly. The Yeth were after other prey. He paused and listened. Whoever the unfortunate ones were, they would not stand a chance against the Hell Hounds. Unless…

Romarin started running, holding onto the Haellsword. He made his best guess where the Hounds went and followed the trail. Perhaps he could make the difference between life and death.

Chapter Thirty-Four

It was afternoon when Shadowhelm took one last look in the direction of the Laddelcity, Caer Ladren. He couldn't see it, but he knew where it was. He turned the dapple-gray stallion back to Kalena and Kelersil.

"We could’ve stayed longer in our fair city," Kelersil remarked, noting Shadowhelm's expression.

Shadowhelm smiled. “Ah, but I would’ve stayed longer,” he said, glancing knowingly at Kalena. “And all that time, Allarun would’ve grown more powerful yet. We had best leave while we still can. Allarun is searching for me.” He paused and met Kalena’s gaze. "I would’ve preferred that you stay in Caer Ladren until I had brought back the Swords."

"I couldn’t stay, knowing you were putting yourself in peril," she said. "You’ll need a Chi'lanwarrior beside you."

A silence ensued and Shadowhelm shook his head. He knew the argument was pointless – Kalena would not leave his side. Not now. Not after last night.

"Well, what do we do?" Kelersil asked. "Do we seek Hagalaz as Laddel said?"

“I don't know,” Shadowhelm admitted. “Eihwazis a fine blade, but I’d rather meet Allarun again with Uruzin my hands.” He paused. “I’m worried about Haegl, though. Even though he’s in the care of the Haell, his wounds were serious.”

“I wouldn’t be," Kelersil remarked. “Queen Joreid is a powerful sorceress – if your friend is in her care, then he is safe.”

“Joreid?” Kalena repeated. “Last night you said Romarin was with Joreid.”

“Aye, I did,” Shadowhelm replied.

Kelersil grinned. “Then she has favored your brother. An envious and dangerous position.”

“Envious and dangerous?” Kalena asked. “Dangerous, I can understand, if she is a sorceress…"

“You haven’t met Joreid," Kelersil said. “Many a Laddelprince has fallen for her, only to be spurned as unworthy. Perhaps a son of Rhyn'athel is more to her liking.”

Shadowhelm chuckled. “Perhaps, but Romarin is on his own there. Let’s ride east. Romarin may know more about the Swords than he told us and I’d feel better having a dragon escort again.”

They rode for miles in silence as the shadows grew long and the large redwoods yielded to their smaller coniferous cousins. As they rode, Shadowhelm replayed the sword fight in the Temple of Death within his mind. The Shara'kairealized that although he was a better swordsman than Allarun, he had caught the Dark Lord off-guard – something he was unlikely to do again. Shadowhelm wished that he had retrieved Hagalazwhen it had clattered to the floor.

It may not have been there,the voice spoke inside his head. You did what you had to do. Not even Lachlan could do what you had done.

Shadowhelm took little comfort in the thought. Although he was not fearful of Allarun, he was cautious. If Lachlan could not kill Allarun, how could Shadowhelm or Romarin succeed?

"I wish we could've gotten more information from Laddel," Shadowhelm said at length, breaking their silence. "I was hoping for Uruz'slocation."

Kelersil shrugged. "Laddel is very old and very wise," he said. "But he sees things beyond this world," he said. "I’m surprised that he spoke so candidly to you."

"Riddles and hints," said Shadowhelm. "I deal better in the real world."

"I wish Laddel could’ve told us if you or Romarin were the Lachlan," Kalena remarked.

"We both have the potential to be,” Shadowhelm mused. "A son of Rhyn'athel – no wonder Elina kept the secret to her death."

"Why?" Kelersil asked.

"It would have brought Allarun to the Northlands," Kalena replied. "We lost many Lochvaurduring the Purges. Romarin, Shadowhelm, and I are all that remain."

Kelersil shook his head. "I don’t doubt that is why Laddel brought our people here. He foresaw the great danger."

"I wonder why Elsonre didn’t," Shadowhelm said. "To leave the Lochvaurexposed to Allarun's rages."

"Elsonre died in battle not long after Darkling Plain," Kalena replied. "Elsonre's children were weak in the Sight. Even if Elsonre had lived longer, I doubt he could’ve done anything. Lachlan held the Houses together. Without Lachlan, the Eleion quickly fell to quarrelling amongst themselves and Allarun picked us off one by one."

"Not the Laddel," said Kelersil. "We refused to allow the Dark Lord to destroy us. That’s why we’re strong."

"Perhaps," said Shadowhelm. “There’ll come a day when your people will have to join the other Eleion.”

Kalena was about to respond when Kelersil raised his hand and reined his horse. The other two reined their horses and fell silent as the Laddelwarrior listened. The horses tossed their heads uneasily and stamped. Shadowhelm’s stallion began to hop nervously. Shadowhelm listened but all he could hear was the wind through the trees. He glanced in askance at Kalena, who shook her head.

"Whatever it is, the horses don't like it," she said.

"Something’s not right," Kelersil replied, trying to control his bay charger.

"We're still in Laddelterritory, aren't we?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Yes, but it's not unusual for highwaymen to travel through here," Kelersil said.

Shadowhelm nodded. “What did you hear?”

“I'm not certain,” he confessed. “For a moment, I thought something was following us.”

Shadowhelm glanced behind. “Where’s the nearest town?”

"We’re at least two days away unless we return to Caer Ladren," Kelersil replied. "I don’t like this – the horses are too nervous."

Shadowhelm reined his own horse, but the stallion champed and tossed its head. "We should be ok," he said, resting his hand on Eihwaz'spommel.

A lone howl echoed through the forest. Shadowhelm felt a prickle along the back of his neck and instinctively drew the sword. At that moment, the gray stallion almost reared, its eyes wild with fright. "Wolves?" the Shara'kaishouted, but something within him told him that whatever it was out there was much more sinister.

"No," Kelersil replied. "These horses have hunted wolves."

Shadowhelm scanned the darkening forest. Something deep within his memory stirred. “These are supernatural creatures.”

"How do you know this?" Kelersil asked.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I don't know, I just do."

The howl was met by another howl. Kalena fought to keep her horse in control. "Whatever it is, it sounds like it is right on top of us," she said. "We'd better get out of here."

"Let's go!" Shadowhelm's stallion needed no urging. He slackened the rein and the horse bolted into a gallop. The Shara'kai kept one hand on the reins and pommel, while still holding Eihwaz. The other two followed.

The howling diminished, but Shadowhelm's apprehension grew. He slowed the horse to a trot and his companions did likewise.

"Thank the gods," Kalena said as another mournful cry echoed through the still forest. "They sound like they're farther away."

"Stay on guard," Shadowhelm said. "We're not out of this yet." He paused and turned his head quickly.

"Did you see something?" Kelersil asked, bringing his bow up and notching an arrow.

Shadowhelm scanned the area. "I'm not sure," he said. "For a moment, I thought I saw something."

"I don't like it," said Kalena. “We’re going to have to rest our horses soon. We can't drive them this way all night.”

“I’d feel better if I didn’t hear the howling,” He paused. “Are there any structures nearby?”

“None.”

Although the howling was distant, the horses were still jumpy. Shadowhelm hoped that they would reach a defensible position soon, but all he could see was forest in all directions. Something continued to nag him about the howling. What was it?

Yeth Hounds.

Shadowhelm felt a slight shiver course through his body. "What are Yeth Hounds?" he asked.

“Yeth Hounds?” Kalena repeated. “Is that what you think these are?”

“I don’t know, but those words came into my head.”

Kalena and Kelersil exchanged glances.

“Is it bad?”

“Well, not good,” Kalena said. “They're like wolves, only white with blood-red eyes. Much bigger than normal wolves – they have saber teeth.”

“I've seen them before on Darkling Plain – they don’t enter the Laddelforest willingly," Kelersil said. "They prowl the battlefields looking for the souls of the dead." He paused. "Do you think these are Yeth?"

"I'm not sure – do they attack the living?"

"Sometimes," said Kalena. "The last time I have heard them attacking the living was when Elsonre fled Darkling Plain."

"Then, it's happened before," Shadowhelm mused. "What kills them?"

"I don't know, said Kalena. She reined her horse as they crested a small hill. "We should stop and rest the horses – or we’ll have none tomorrow."

A solitary howl softly echoed as if in reply. "They sound far enough away," Kelersil said. "We should eat and let the horses rest before we press on."

Shadowhelm watched as the other two dismounted and tied the skittery animals to trees. "Come on, Shadowhelm," Kalena said. "You look tired."

Shadowhelm dismounted. He couldn't explain his misgivings. As though sensing his overall uneasiness, Kalena and Kelersil let the Shara'kaistand watch while they cared for the horses and started a small fire with nearby deadfall. Shadowhelm continued to pace, keeping Eihwazready. Twice, he thought he spied glowing eyes in the gloom out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked directly at them, they vanished.

The enticing smell of cooking venison and bread wafted from the camp. Although hungry, Shadowhelm would not leave the watch. Kalena cut a few portions of meat and sat with her back against a tree, watching the Shara'kaipace.

"Is he always like this?" Kelersil asked as he studied Shadowhelm. He tore a piece of bread and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"Lately more so," she said, eating the meat in silence. "Why?"

"I have seen this in those who have the Sight," Kelersil said. "They say that those who have it can see beyond our world and sometimes it is hard to distinguish between that world and ours."

"Maybe there’s no difference," Kalena mused. "Maybe we just don't see it and they do." She finished eating, stood up, and went over to Shadowhelm. "Sit down and eat," she said. "I’ll take the watch."

For a moment, Shadowhelm looked as though he might refuse. But, he relented, sheathed his sword, and sat beside Kelersil.

Shadowhelm ate in silence, keeping alert. He hardly tasted the venison or the bread.

"Don't you trust the Chi'lan?" Kelersil asked.

Shadowhelm paused, allowing a brief smile to flicker across his lips. “I don't know – there is something about that howling that unnerves me. It’s like I’ve seen these before, but I haven’t. So, how would I know?”

A lone howl echoed through the forest and Shadowhelm shuddered. Kelersil watched him curiously. "Relax – if it is the Yeth, we’re not their prey. They seek those who have died in battle."
A high whinny interrupted them. They both turned to see the gray stallion shake its head violently as if trying to bolt. The other two horses began thrashing in terror.

"The horses!" Shadowhelm shouted and leapt to grasp the stallion's reins before it could pull free.

Then he saw the glowing red eyes.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Shadowhelm stared into the eyes of the Yeth Hounds. The demon wolves were as Kalena had described them: bigger than any wolf Shadowhelm had ever seen, save for Ni’yah. Their eyes were glowing red and their white fur gave them a ghostly appearance, flickering in the darkness. Blood dripped from their muzzles and their eyes held a demonic intelligence as they studied their prey.

Shadowhelm drew Eihwaz, but one of the wolves leapt at him and knocked the blade from his hands as it cleared the sheath.

“Shadowhelm!” Kalena shouted as the great wolf knocked him to the ground, snapping at his throat. Shadowhelm grasped the creature's neck in both hands and tried to keep the Yeth's teeth from exposed flesh. A saber fang slashed into his face, gouging deep, just below the eye straight down to his jaw.

Shadowhelm brought his legs up and slammed into the creature, throwing it off but other Yeth were on him. Then, he heard laughter.

"Careful, pets, we don't want to deprive Allarun of his sport," said a voice.

Shadowhelm looked in the direction of the hated voice. "Vaurgar," he said hoarsely.

Vaurgar strode forward towards Shadowhelm, surrounded by Eltar soldiers. Shadowhelm glanced over and saw that the wolves had pinned Kalena and Kelersil as he was. Eltarsoldiers stood around both warriors with pikes pointed at their throats.

"You shouldn't have left Caer Ladren, Shara'kai," the Eltar general remarked. "Oh yes, I know all about the LaddelCity," he added, glancing at Kelersil. "Your pathetic costumes and Laddel's powers aren't enough to keep Allarun out." He stood over Shadowhelm and kicked him in the side, forcing the air from his lungs. Shadowhelm winced but made no reply. "So, here is the Shara'kai who dares to threaten Allarun." He glanced at the wolves, which moved aside slightly. "You're not so terrible without your sword," he remarked. "Where is the warrior rage?"

Shadowhelm made no reply. He knew he had to think fast if he was going to save their lives. He tried moving his arm, only to have the Yeth Hound press its teeth next to his neck, just above the jugular.

"I wouldn't try that, Shara'kai," Vaurgar said, amused. "My puppies haven't been fed in a long time and they'll dine on mixed blood as well as pure."

One Eltarbent down to pick up Eihwaz. "No! Don't!" Vaurgar shouted, but it was too late. No sooner had the man touched the hilt than a blue-white bolt of fire coursed through him. With an agonizing scream, the Eltarvanished.

"Stupid fool!" Vaurgar snapped. He turned to his soldiers. "Let that be a lesson to never touch a Sword of Destiny. Take his sword – but don't touch it and don't let him escape. He’s dangerous even without a weapon."

Two Eltarsoldiers approached cautiously. While one held a sword to Shadowhelm's chest, the other tugged the sword belt free. It proved a difficult task with a Yeth Hound pinning the Shara’kaidown. Shadowhelm glared venomously at them and they moved quickly. Wrapping their hands with cloaks, they sheathed Eihwaz.

"Ni'yah cannot save you here," Vaurgar said.

"Very well, then," Shadowhelm said. "You have me. Let the other two go – they are of no use to you."

Vaurgar gazed at Kalena. "Oh, I don't know. The Lochvaur bitch might offer some entertainment."

For a moment, Shadowhelm forgot the Yeth teeth and tried to lunge at Vaurgar. The wolf's powerful jaws closed on his throat, crushing down on his trachea. Shadowhelm gasped for breath and Vaurgar laughed. "Careful, pet! We don't want him too damaged when he arrives at Sehduk's Keep."

The wolf released him and Shadowhelm gasped for breath. Pure hatred burned in his silver eyes as he met Vaurgar's own. "You better kill me now, Eltar, because otherwise I’ll kill you."

Vaurgar laughed. "Brave words, Shara'kai! But you’re very right about one thing – the others are of no use." He smiled. "You are a warrior and prepared to die. But are you willing to sacrifice your friend’s lives?"

"They’re warriors," Shadowhelm said evenly. "They’re prepared to die."

"Pity that I would have to kill the Chi'lan," Vaurgar remarked. "How many of your House are left? It’d be a shame to kill her."

"She means nothing to me."

"Really? And you were willing to die for her a moment ago, weren't you?" Vaurgar sneered. "Never mind – I’ve really no use for her. I’ll do as you ask – I’ll let them go. Provided, of course, with your compliance."

Don’t trust him. It’s a trap.

What choice is there?

"Bind the Shara'kai," Vaurgar said. The three Yeth Hounds that pinned him slowly released their grip. Shadowhelm sat up, ready to leap at Vaurgar, only to find the Eltarpointing swords at his throat and chest.

“You’ll die if you move,” warned an Eltaras he shackled Shadowhelm's hands and feet.

"Good," Vaurgar said and turned to his soldiers. "Kill the horses and take the weapons from the Chi'lan and the Laddel. Then free them. It will give the Yeth some sport."

Shadowhelm growled. "You said they’d go free."

Vaurgar smiled. "Yes, I did," he said. "But the Yeth still have to eat, don't they?"

Shadowhelm snarled and leapt at Vaurgar. The chains, held by four Eltar, held fast and the Shara'kaislammed against the shackles in futility. Vaurgar slammed his sword’s pommel into Shadowhelm's head.

Shadowhelm fought the unconsciousness. He collapsed against the chains, blood running into his eyes. He had never felt so helpless before.

Vaurgar turned to Kalena. “You have two choices, Chi'lan. One is to be foolish as your Shara'kaiwas. The other is to leave now.” He glanced at the Yeth. “Release them."

The Yeth Hounds moved off both Kalena and Kelersil. In one quick movement, Kalena charged an Eltarand knocked the blade out of his hand.

"No! Kalena! No!" Shadowhelm shouted, throwing himself once more into the chains.

The sword went spinning away and Kalena sprinted after it. Her hand curled around the pommel just as Eltararrows entered her body. She collapsed.

Vaurgar turned to one of his men. "Taryn – check her."

A soldier strode over and nudged her body over. "She's dead."

"Good," Vaurgar said. He grinned. "You see, Shara'kai, what happens when you don't obey?"

“I’ll kill you!” Shadowhelm shouted. “By the Swords, I’ll kill you!”

"You're not in the condition to kill anything, much less me," Vaurgar laughed. "We'll see how brave you are when you face Allarun."

“This will be your greatest mistake,” said Shadowhelm. “Kill me now while you have the chance, because once I am free, I will kill you.”

Vaurgar met the Shara'kai'sgaze and for a moment, uncertainty flickered in his dark eyes. Instead, Vaurgar turned and pointed at Kelersil. "If you wish to live, I suggest leave now."

The Laddelglanced at Kalena's still form and again at Shadowhelm.

"Run!" Shadowhelm ordered. "Tell Laddel to get word to Romar…" He was cut off as Vaurgar slammed the sword pommel into his head and threw him into unconsciousness.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kelersil needed no further urging. With a glance at Shadowhelm's still form and Kalena's lifeless body, he turned and fled. Vaurgar's laughter filled his ears as he ran. Vaurgar held his hand up, waiting for a few moments.

“What are you doing?” Taryn asked.

Vaurgar laughed again. “Patience, my friend. Nothing will escape the Yeth. I’m just giving them a little sport, that’s all.” He lowered his hand.

With that, the Yeth flew after the Laddelwarrior.

Without weapons, Kelersil knew he could not stand and fight. Escape seemed impossible – even a slow dog could outrun a man – but Vaurgar had been overconfident in giving him a head start. The Laddel knew he had to use that to his advantage to survive.

Neither Vaurgar nor the Yeth knew this forest like Kelersil did. That gave the Laddela chance to escape.

If Shadowhelm doesn’t kill him, I will,Kelersil thought darkly. He knew better than to look back, for he knew the Yeth would soon be overtaking him. He ran forward and seeing a low-branched oak that he could climb, made a desperate leap. Teeth snapped as he grasped the branch and swung up. He climbed further and did not dare turn around until he was at least twenty feet off the ground. Only then did he dare look at the beasts below.

More than twenty Yeth surrounded the tree. Kelersil drew the only weapon the Eltarhad left him – a short dagger he had hidden in his boot. It wasn't enchanted nor was it big enough to do damage.

The Yeth were now considering their options and were now trying to climb the tree. Sharp teeth gripped the tree's bark as they tried to gain purchase. One was successful at achieving the first branch. It wouldn't be long before it made it upward.

Kelersil looked for other options. The oak's branches thinned quickly as they spread out. They were too thin to stand on to try to jump to the next tree. The other trees were coniferous with slim branches that would not hold the weight of anything larger than a squirrel.

The Yeth on the first branch scrambled onto the second higher branch.

It was going to be a long night.

Suddenly, a battle cry rang out. The Yeth paused and turned. Kelersil stared. A Lochvaurwarrior charged right into the pack of Yeth Hounds with a glowing blade. Kelersil stared as the warrior sliced through three Hounds even before the creatures could respond. Some turned to fight him, but many fled.

"Laddel! Laddel!" shouted Kelersil. The warrior’s appearance gave him heart and he leapt down, knocking one of the ghost-wolves from its precarious perch. The warrior slew it and turned on the others.

Outmatched, the Yeth slunk away. The warrior watched them leave, still holding the bloody sword ready.

"Shadowhelm! How did you escape?" Kelersil exclaimed as the warrior turned to him. Then Kelersil realized his mistake. This Eleionwas taller than Shadowhelm by several inches and was obviously pureblood. Instead of a right hand, he had a silver gauntlet. But the face and mannerisms were remarkably similar to Shadowhelm. "I'm sorry, dread warrior, I thought you were Shadowhelm, son of Rhyn'athel."

Romarin smiled. "No, my friend, but I am his half-brother, Romarin Nevfaras."

Kelersil caught his breath. "Your Majesty, I…"

Romarin waved dismissively. "Titles mean little when one has no kingdom left. Where is Shadowhelm and Kalena?"

A shadow passed over Kelersil's face. "Oh gods!" he gasped and ran back to their camp, Romarin in pursuit.

Kalena lay, ash pale and bloody – arrows protruding from her body.

###

Shadowhelm's head pounded mercilessly and he often faded into unconsciousness as they rode for miles without stopping. His throat hurt with each breath he took and he was certain that the Yeth Hounds had bruised and torn the muscles. The land seemed to fade into one long blur of forest, prairie, and mountain. The Eltarspoke little to him while they rode and while thirst burned his throat, he said nothing.

The voice had said nothing. For that, the Shara'kaiwas thankful. The unconsciousness, too, was a mercy – though Shadowhelm knew it was a sign of a more serious injury. Still, he accepted it and did not fight it.

Kalena had died quickly. Shadowhelm took some solace in that knowledge, but it was cold comfort. In retrospect, he had known that falling in love with her was foolish, but that knowledge did not ease his pain. He had other lovers before who had died in battle, but none like her. None whom he had truly loved.

He refused to show his grief to his enemies, lest he grant them another way to torment him. When he was conscious, he watched them carefully so he might be able to take advantage of any possible mistake.

It was early evening when they came to a small stream at the edge of a forest. Vaurgar raised his hand and the group halted. "We will camp here tonight," he said, dismounting. "Taryn!" he barked at the Eltarwho held Shadowhelm's chains. "Chain the Shara'kaito a tree and give him some water."

Shadowhelm eyed the Eltarnamed Taryn. He was a tall warrior with steady dark eyes and scars across his face, indicating he had been in many battles. The Shara'kai wondered how difficult it might be to take the man on while chained. Even if he could strangle the Eltar, he wondered if he could pull the keys off the body fast enough to unlock them and escape. He had counted ten Eltar. He did not think he could take on all ten in his current condition.

The Eltarpulled Shadowhelm off the horse roughly. "Come on, half-breed," Taryn sneered as he dragged Shadowhelm forward. Shadowhelm collapsed, waiting for Taryn to stand over him to pull him up. "Come on, Shara'kai!" Taryn bent over and whispered. "Get up, Shadowhelm. You have more than one ally here."

Shadowhelm opened his eyes and met the Eltar’sgaze. "What?"

"Stand before Vaurgar comes over. Look weak – the others won’t torment you if they think you may die. Do you understand?" Taryn said quickly.

"I understand." The headache began to throb again with the concentration.

"My lord, the Shara'kaiis worse than we thought," Taryn said aloud. Shadowhelm allowed Taryn to pull him to his feet, but slumped in the Eltar'sarms. "He’ll need food and medicine if he’s to make it alive to Thalarmor."

Vaurgar eyed Shadowhelm suspiciously. "The blow to his head must have been greater than I thought. Take care of him, Taryn. If he dies, you’ll answer to Allarun."

Taryn led Shadowhelm to the tree. “Listen – not all Eltar are loyal to Allarun. There are many who despise what Allarun has done to our people,” he whispered to the Shara'kai, after they were out of earshot. Taryn carefully wrapped the chain around the tree and locked it. Shadowhelm tested the shackles and found that the Eltarhad given him enough room for movement. "You can remove those at any time – there is a spring mechanism that will open them if you touch the button on the inside the wrist – but don’t! It’s required.”

“For what?” Shadowhelm asked.

“You must face Allarun and destroy him,” he said.

“I don’t have Uruz. And if you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have Eihwazeither.”

“We can get you the Sword. Aren’t you the Lachlan – the champion that has been foretold?”

Shadowhelm sighed. “Yes and no. There are two sons of Rhyn’athel, Romarin and I. One of us is Lachlan but neither of us has his power. The key lies in Lachlan’s sword, Uruz.”

Taryn frowned. “This will be your only chance to confront Allarun while we can protect you. The Eltarhave suffered as slaves for this mad king for almost a millenium. You must face Allarun and destroy him.”

Shadowhelm shook his head. “Listen, I can’t help you. Not without Uruz. Even if I could, I’m not inclined to. You did nothing to help those with me.”

“It grieves me that I couldn’t help your friends,” he said. “If I or the others had tried to help them, Vaurgar would have killed us.”

“Cold comfort for one who has lost a kinsman.”

“The Chi'lanwas still alive but she was badly injured.”

“Kalena’s alive?” Shadowhelm gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Shhh!” Taryn hissed, glancing over at the encampment. “Her injuries were severe but not in vital areas. She might live if the Laddelescaped and sought help.”

Shadowhelm closed his eyes and thanked the gods. “But what of the Laddelnamed Kelersil?”

“Vaurgar set the Yeth on him. I doubt he’ll be able to outrun them,” Taryn said. “But they say the Laddelking is a warlock with great powers that can see beyond what we can. I hope he can save them.” He handed Shadowhelm a full canteen. “Drink.”

Shadowhelm took the canteen and gulped the water down. His throat ached as he drank the water, but the driving thirst overrode the pain. Still, he was heartened that Kalena was still alive. He hoped that Kelersil, being Laddel, knew a way to escape.

The Eltaroffered bread and dried meat. “Our rations are poor,” Taryn said apologetically.

“It’ll have to do,” Shadowhelm said as he sat cross-legged and tried to eat as Taryn knelt beside him to inspect the wounds.

“These are nasty,” Taryn said. “The gouge on your face will scar, but I’ll do what I can to heal it.” He pulled out a jar of foul-smelling ointment. “This will sting, but it will prevent the wounds from festering.”

Shadowhelm winced as the Eltarapplied the salve. “Ouch! That hurts worse than the wounds.” He caught the Eltar’swrist. “What in Tarentoris in that?”

Taryn grinned. “You don’t want to know, but it works well.” He freed his arm and continued applying the greasy salve. “An inch higher and that Yeth would’ve taken your eye out.”

“I don’t think they were worried about that,” Shadowhelm remarked.

“I’d imagine not,” Taryn said. “Vaurgar says you’ve fought Allarun before.”

“Not by choice, but I did I disarm him,” Shadowhelm said, trying the meat. It was tough, but he was hungry and chewed it.

“Then you’re the champion of the Prophecy,” Taryn said. “No one has ever bested Allarun in a swordfight.”

Shadowhelm smiled wryly but said nothing. He doubted that Allarun had never been defeated before in a swordfight. Allarun was good, but not invincible. The Shara’kaisuspected more likely that when Allarun turned on Lachlan, he had taken Lachlan by surprise. As a mercenary, Shadowhelm never discounted luck. Even the best swordsmen had bad days.

Taryn wrapped the wounds on Shadowhelm’s neck with a bandage. “We’ll have to change the bandages often to make sure you heal properly.” He then pulled out a flask and handed it to the Shara'kai. “For the concussion and the pain. The Yeth would have cut your trachea had it not been for the gorget.”

Shadowhelm eyed the dark liquid suspiciously. “How do I know this isn’t poison?” He uncorked the bottle and gagged. “This smells awful.”

The Eltarshrugged. "If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead."

Shadowhelm gave a half-hearted grin and gulped the potion. It tasted bitter and burned in his throat, but he forced it down. He felt a little better as he handed the bottle back. “I won't ask what's in it.”

“Mostly painkillers,” Taryn replied. “It will make you sleepy, but it will also reduce the swelling and help you heal. You’re lucky you didn’t sustain worse injuries.”

"I feel awful," Shadowhelm said.

Taryn paused and looked up. Shadowhelm followed his gaze to see Vaurgar taking an interest in them, “I must leave now. Trust no one here except myself, Yerth, and Kelar. Rest if you can.”

Shadowhelm nodded. As Taryn left him, the medicine began to take hold of him and he allowed himself to settle into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Romarin knelt down and pressed his fingers along Kalena's neck.

"She's dead, isn't she?" Kelersil said.

Romarin said nothing, but continued to search for a pulse. He was rewarded with a slow but steady throb beneath his fingertips. "Not yet," Romarin said, "but nearly so." He bent down and cradled her in his arms. She felt light after so much exertion. “We have to get her to Laddel – he can heal her. What happened? Where’s Shadowhelm?”

“I am Kelersil, grandson of Laddel. I was supposed to escort them through our lands. I failed. Vaurgar used the Yeth Hounds to capture Shadowhelm.”

“Vaurgar would want to bring Shadowhelm back to Allarun,” Romarin said. “You didn’t fail – I’ve never heard of anyone since Elsonre escaping those demon-wolves.”

Kelersil nodded slowly, but chewed his lip. “If Vaurgar takes the Shara’kaito Thalarmor, I fear all may be lost.”

“Allarun must know that Shadowhelm could be Lachlan.”

“What can we do?”

“Go to the Laddelfortress and send help. I can’t move as fast as you can carrying her.”

“What if the Yeth return?”

“I can take care of them,” he said. “Go! She hasn't much time!”

Kelersil nodded and ran towards the LaddelFortress.

Romarin paused and gazed at Kalena's pale face. He kissed her gently on the cheek. "Oh my kinsman," he whispered. "Live a little longer – help will be here soon." He carefully lifted her up and carried her towards Caer Ladren.

Kalena slowly opened her eyes. "Romarin?" she whispered.

"Yes – shhh!" he said as he carried her.

"Thirsty," she whispered. "Shadowhelm, I couldn't…"

Romarin laid her down and pressed his canteen against her lips. "Save your strength," he replied. "I’ll find him."

"He’s the Lachlan," Kalena whispered. She raised her hand and took his. She felt cold to his touch.

"I know," Romarin said. "I’ll find him. Rest, my kinsman."

"Romarin, I…" she began.

Romarin shook his head. "Shhh. I already knew. I could see it in your eyes. You belong with him."

Kalena began coughing. Then she returned to unconsciousness.

###

Romarin sat next to Kalena. He did not dare move her and had staunched the bleeding the best he could. The blood had already clotted around the arrows. He left the arrows in to avoid further bleeding and kept her covered with both their cloaks. Once or twice, he heard howling that set him on edge, but these were ordinary wolves, not Yeth Hounds.

The first rays of dawn had entered the forest when he saw a large gray wolf approach him. Romarin got to his feet and sheathed the Haellsword. "Laddel!" he said.

The wolf transmuted into the old Laddelking. "Romarin, my old friend, it has been a long time."

Romarin nodded. "It has been a long time," he agreed. "I wish we didn't have to meet again over such dire circumstances. Vaurgar attacked with the Yeth."

"And in my own forest," Laddel remarked, kneeling down to inspect Kalena. "You did well to keep her stable – I can still heal her, but she’ll need rest." He paused. "I didn’t foresee the attack – Allarun and Areyn Sehduk grow bold now to attack those in my own forest."

"Allarun is growing in power," Romarin replied. "I fear that he’ll soon be too powerful even for the Lachlan."

Laddel gave Romarin a knowing look. "You may be more right than you realize," he said, pulling the blankets off Kalena and resting his hand on her wounds. "Allarun has captured Ni'yah and holds him in Sehduk's Keep."

"Is that possible?" Romarin breathed. "Allarun has captured a god?"

Laddel did not respond. Instead, a light emanated from his hands and he pressed them against Kalena's wounds. The Chi'lanwarrior moaned in pain. "Pull the arrows out as I touch each wound," Laddel said. Romarin snapped the barbed arrowheads off each arrow that protruded through and then tugged at the first arrow. As the shaft slid out, Laddel touched the wound and it closed.

"Allarun captured a god?" Romarin repeated when they finished.

"These are troubling times," Laddel said. "Allarun has bent Lachlan’s power to evil. I warned Lachlan before he forged those swords, but Lachlan was rash and unwilling to listen to counsel." He looked down at Kalena's form. "That is all I can do."

"Will she live?" Romarin asked.

"Yes, but she’ll need rest," Laddel replied. "My skills as a healer are inherited from my sire, but I’m only half Ni'yah. She would be healed completely if I were he."

"Your skills are greatly appreciated," Romarin said.

"Let’s return to the fortress," Laddel replied. "We can decide what to do then."

"No," Romarin said. "I’m going after Shadowhelm."

The Laddelking gazed at Romarin. "Allarun's great army is massing along both the Haell and the Laddel borders. He’ll strike soon."

"Allarun won’t strike until the Lachlan is dead," Romarin replied. "If I can save Shadowhelm's life, there may be a chance."

"Or we may lose you both." Laddel gazed at Romarin. "As it was before, it is now."

Romarin shook his head. "I do not understand."

"Two brothers, sons of Rhyn'athel," Laddel said. "Lachlan and Elsonre. Romarin and Shadowhelm. The cycle is complete. Perhaps there is more to the Lachlan's prophecy than his return." He transmuted into a wolf again. Romarin gently picked up Kalena and laid her over the wolf's back.

"Talk to Joreid, the Haellqueen," Romarin said. "She will join forces with what is left of my army and you, if you’d join us against Allarun."

The wolf nodded. The Laddel will join you, he said. May Rhyn'athel guide you. With that, Laddelloped away, carrying Kalena.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ni'yah lay in the dark throne room of Sehduk's Keep. The Eltar had chained the wolf to Allarun's massive throne, leaving the god to lie muzzled and bound – and helpless.

Ni'yah could not transmute, nor could he use any of his powers. He couldn't even speak with the muzzle on. As a god, he was unused to helplessness and he paced angrily back and forth. Several times he sought to break the adamantine fetters that bound him, but it was all in vain. It was as though the magic that held him was of the most powerful kind – the kind that was spawned only in the depths of the Sehduk's realm.

The massive door to the throne room opened and Allarun strode in. He smiled as his eyes fell on the wolf. "Well, I heard that my son had brought a pet," he sneered, aiming a kick at Ni’yah.

Ni'yah dodged, dragging the heavy chains to its limits to avoid the kick. He's mad if he thinks he can hold a god.

"Mad?" laughed Allarun. "I think not. For I am a god. The god of destruction. And soon, even Lachlan's powers will have no hold upon me." He smiled, his hand straying to the hilt of Hagalazat his side. "And those gods who dare defy me will meet the same fate as you. They’ll soon be worshipping me."

The wolf laid back down, his brass eyes filled with worry, as he watched the Dark Lord leave the throne room.

###

Shadowhelm lay asleep in a fevered dream. He was still in great pain, but the medicine Taryn gave him threw him into an uneasy rest. In it, Shadowhelm found he was once more on Darkling Plain, walking among the ghosts of the Eleionwarriors. Looking down, Shadowhelm realized that he was gripping Eihwaz's hilt.

"It’s good that you’ve come," said a voice.

Shadowhelm swung around, sword ready. Before him stood an Eleion warrior – a Lochvaur of impressive stature. He was clad in battle armor and held a broken sword in his hands. The voice was strangely familiar, but the figure was misty and unsubstantial. "Who are you?" Shadowhelm asked. "Are you Lachlan?"

The apparition smiled. "That is who I was."

"Am I dead?" Shadowhelm asked, staring at the vast legions of Eleionwarriors who gathered before him.

"No – this is a dream, but you’ve touched the path between life and death."

"Why? How?"

“I need you to complete the Prophecy.”

"Then I am the Lachlan," Shadowhelm said.

"It is more complex than that," Lachlan said. "But you will learn soon enough."

"How am I able to talk to you?"

"How do you think?"

Shadowhelm glanced down at the sword he held. "Eihwaz."

"You understand," Lachlan said. "First Eihwaz, then Hagalaz. Then Uruz. The Swords of Destiny were forged in that order."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "Where’s Uruz?"

"Ask Romarin," Lachlan said.

Shadowhelm drew a quick inward breath. "He knows?"

"Romarin knows more than he admits."

"Then he is a Swordwielder," Shadowhelm said.

"As you are," Lachlan said. "Go now – there’s much for you to do. You must take Hagalazback."

"Sehduk's Keep," Shadowhelm mused.

"Ni'yah is there," Lachlan said. "Free the wolf – he will aid you."

Shadowhelm nodded. "I’ll do this," he said. The Darkling Plain fell away and Shadowhelm was pulled back into consciousness.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Romarin watched as Laddel disappeared into the forest and then turned away. He sheathed his sword, his angry rising as he thought about Allarun and Vaurgar. Shadowhelm, Kalena, Haegl, and himself had become victims of power-hungry madmen. If anything, Allarun's hatred and desire to destroy the Eleionand the Lochvaur would ultimately bring about his own death. Not the Lachlan's prophecy. Not the Swords of Destiny. It would be Shadowhelm or Romarin who would deal the final blow.

Perhaps that is what the Prophecy was about, he reflected. In that brief instant before his death, Lachlan saw Allarun for what he was and saw well into the future. Lachlan's own life force was powerful – so powerful that not even Areyn Sehduk could claim him in death. Allarun had to know this, himself being the son of an Athel’cen,the most powerful of the gods.

There had been two sons of Rhyn'athel a thousand years ago; there were two now. It could not be coincidence – even Shadowhelm would admit to that, Romarin thought wryly. Now, Shadowhelm's life depended on Romarin. It was time to repay the life-debt.

These thoughts kept Romarin focused while traveling through the forest. Romarin refused to stop for longer than a few minutes as he tracked the Eltarwhile he still had light. Tracking them was easy – the horses’ hoof prints were visible in the soft dirt and frozen grasses – but at night, even with sharp Eleioneyes, he could overlook the subtleties of a trail over more rugged terrain.

The sun had set and the first stars twinkled overhead through the treetops when Romarin decided to rest. He had emptied his canteen an hour ago and hunger and exhaustion was creeping up with him. He had no food – his horse had taken his provisions when it fled, and the little food he had on him he consumed many hours before. Romarin knew he could live without food for days – if necessary. Water, however, was vital and he searched for a stream.

Romarin surveyed the forest. The land was not flat, but a series of rolling hills. Romarin knew he'd find water in the gulches between the hills. He stood on a ridgeline and followed a gully to where a small stream flowed. He approached the stream and tasted the water. It was cold and icy, bubbling from a spring. He filled the canteen and cupped more water in his hands.

His eye caught movement. Romarin turned and saw a doe walk slowly to the water. Romarin watch her in wry amusement. He was upwind of her and she hadn't spied him. He had no means of shooting her, so she was safe from him.

Thwang! An arrow whistled by the doe, just above her back and lodged into the pine nearby. The doe started and took off, bounding away into the dark forest. Romarin dropped his canteen and drew his sword. Just uphill from where he had come was a rider with a bow.

"Romarin? Is that you?"

Romarin relaxed and frowned. "Kelersil?"

The Laddelrode a sorrel horse and had another horse's reins tied to his pommel. "I was wondering when I was going to catch up with you. You move as fast as a Laddel."

Romarin grinned, picking up his canteen and capping it. "I move when I have to."

"Laddel sent me with a horse – said you’d be needing it if we're going to Sehduk's Keep."

"We're?" Romarin repeated. "I won't drag you into this."

"You won't get the horse otherwise," Kelersil remarked. "Come on, let's make camp. I would've liked venison, but I caught two rabbits earlier today."

###

They made camp, chancing a small smoldering fire to cook the meat. Romarin put the flames out with water from the creek after eating.

"I don't think the Eltarbelieve anyone is following them," Romarin remarked. "They are so cocksure of themselves that a blind man could follow their trail."

Kelersil nodded. "They will probably rest for the night."

"I wish we could track them in the dark, but it is just too risky," Romarin said. "I'll risk the trail turning cold before I follow a false lead."

"You don't have to," Kelersil remarked. He pointed to the north. "Can you see, just beyond the forest?"

Romarin's gaze followed Kelersil's hand. There, in the distance was a flicker from firelight. He grinned. "They're stupid and overconfident."

“They'll still be awake,” Kelersil observed. “Both you and the horses need rest. I'll keep watch and wake you in a couple hours. You can then find Shadowhelm when there are only a few sentries.”

Romarin nodded. As much as he wanted to rescue Shadowhelm, he knew that for the moment, the Shara’kaiwould be all right until they brought him to Allarun.

"What about you?" Romarin asked.

"I'm all right. Rest now," the Laddelsaid.

Romarin lay down, wrapping his cloak around him for warmth. His last thoughts before he fell asleep were of Joreid.

It felt as if seconds had passed when Kelersil was shaking him awake. "Come on, time to move," the Laddelwhispered. Romarin gazed into the sky to see the first moon had already risen and the second was peering through the trees low on the horizon.

"How long?"

"I gave you an extra hour," Kelersil confessed. "They're not moving and we should reach them well before dawn."

They broke camp and rode towards the Eltarcamp, keeping the fire visible in their line of sight. As they drew nearer, Romarin motioned to Kelersil that they should dismount and walk. They tied their horses to the nearest tree and crept towards the camp.

Romarin surveyed the camp. The Eltarhad posted two guards but they were engrossed in a game of dice rather than watching their prisoner. Shadowhelm lay next to a tree with manacles around his wrists and ankles and chains wrapped around the tree.

"Cover me with your bow," Romarin whispered to Kelersil. "If the guards make a move towards me, shoot them."

Kelersil nodded, notching an arrow and keeping his eyes on the Eltar guards. Romarin crept towards Shadowhelm. The Shara'kailay wrapped in a cloak asleep. Romarin noted that Shadowhelm's wounds were bandaged carefully and the Shara'kailooked better than he had expected. He placed a hand on Shadowhelm's arm.

Abruptly, Shadowhelm leapt up, one hand closed around Romarin's throat.

Shadowhelm, it's me, Romarin!

The Shara'kaihesitated for a moment as his silver eyes tried to focus on Romarin's form. Shadowhelm's hand released and he smiled. "Romarin!" he whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you had been captured," Romarin said softly, "I came to find you."

Shadowhelm grinned. 'Thank you, my friend, but I need no help yet."

Romarin considered the Shara'kai. "They must have drugged you."

"Actually Taryn did give me something for the pain," Shadowhelm admitted. "But things are not as they seem." He opened the binders to Romarin's amazement.

"How?"

"There are Eltarwho fight against Allarun."

Romarin glanced at the two guards who were still engrossed in their dice game. "I don't understand."

Shadowhelm's expression grew serious. "I don’t understand either, but I must go to Thalarmor and take Hagalazaway from Allarun. I must do this before I find Uruz."

"Shadowhelm – I know where Uruzlies," whispered Romarin. "I can lead you to it."

A silence ensued between them. At length, Shadowhelm shook his head. “No. First Eihwaz, then Hagalaz. Then Uruz. That's the key to bringing back the Lachlan.”

“How do you know this?”

"Because Lachlan told me, himself."

“Lachlan, how?”

“Through a dream or a vision – or whatever you call it,” Shadowhelm replied. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but he told me that the key to returning him is to take the Swords in order of their forging.”

Romarin stared at Shadowhelm. “By Rhyn'athel's sword, I would’ve never believed it. Shadowhelm, you’re in great danger if you stay here with Vaurgar. He’ll kill you for sport if he learns you are indeed the Lachlan. You don't yet have his powers to defend yourself.”

“Perhaps. But I have three allies here – if what Taryn says is true. Taryn wouldn’t free me if he were an enemy.”

“You can’t trust an Eltar.”

“In this case, I think I have to. I sense no deception with Taryn.” He paused as if another thought had entered his mind. "How is Kalena?"

"She lives, but barely," Romarin said. "Laddel came and healed her, but she’ll need to rest." He paused. "Shadowhelm, there is something you should know. Allarun has captured Ni'yah."

Shadowhelm nodded. "I know. Lachlan told me this. That’s another reason why I must go to Sehduk’s Keep—to free Ni’yah from the adamantine fetters.”

"I called you my brother after you saved my life in the fight against the firedrake," Romarin said. "Little did I know how prophetic those words would be. You’re a son of Rhyn'athel – my brother – Shara'kaior not. I owe you more than one life-debt and even if I didn't, I wouldn’t allow you to endanger yourself like this."

Shadowhelm met Romarin's gaze and gripped his brother's arm. "Go back," the Shara'kaisaid. "This may be my only chance at taking Hagalazand killing Allarun."

“You’d challenge Allarun without Uruz?” Romarin said. "Only the Lachlan can kill Allarun."

"I've already sworn to kill him – Lachlan or not," Shadowhelm replied. He shook his head. "No, brother – go now. I’ve already foreseen Allarun's army bearing down on our own." He glanced at the Eltarplaying dice. "Go, before they discover you."

"What of Eihwaz?"

"I will take Eihwazback – three days hence." Shadowhelm paused. "Now go."

Chapter Forty

Romarin returned to Kelersil, his brow furrowed and his silver eyes smoky-dark. He threw himself down on the ground and stared ahead without a word.

"Where’s Shadowhelm?" Kelersil asked. He released the tension on the bowstring slowly and returned the arrow to its quiver. “Is he ok? What’s happening?”

Romarin shook his head. "He’s going to confront Allarun," the he said. “He plans to take Hagalazand free Ni'yah.”

Kelersil stared. "Is he mad?"

"I don’t know. He says the Lachlan spoke to him."

"Then he’s mad," Kelersil replied.

Romarin sighed. “I don’t know. Or he can see where I can’t. Shadowhelm says three days hence he will have the opportunity to retake Eihwaz.”

“How?”

Romarin shook his head. “I wish I knew. He could be walking to his death, and yet, I have to trust him.”

“If he dies, then all hope is gone,” Kelersil said. “And with him, any chance to defeat Allarun.”

“I know.”

“We could kidnap him – take him by force.”

“I’m not sure if I could take Shadowhelm without a struggle. If he did, I’d risk getting myself killed or captured,” Romarin said. “Assuming I survived, who would rescue us then? Vaurgar wouldn’t be so careless.”

“Then what can we do?” Kelersil said.

“We sit and wait. And watch. Shadowhelm says there are three Eltar rebels in Vaurgar's party. He knows too, I won’t leave him. By the gods, I hope he’s right.”

###

The Eltarrode northward towards Thalarmor with Romarin and Kelersil trailing them. As Shadowhelm had assumed, the Eltarwere too arrogant to think they might be tracked. He could feel Romarin's presence nearby, though how he could sense the Lochvaurking, he had no idea. Perhaps the Sword brought this power out in him. If he concentrated, Shadowhelm could feel the Eltarpresence as well.

Yet something nagged Shadowhelm as they rode northward – a feeling of dread he could not shake. Whether it was their approach into Thalarmor or whether some doom awaited them there, he could not be sure. He tried to dismiss it as the apprehension of meeting Allarun again, but Shadowhelm knew that was not it. He did not fear Allarun the way the others did.

If the Eltarsensed the foreboding, they concealed it well. Perhaps they did not sense what he could.

Eihwaz hung tantalizingly close to Shadowhelm on Vaurgar's saddle. The Shara'kaihad not realized how much the sword had changed him and how much he had relied on its power. The Lachlan’s power resonated within him. Perhaps it was because he was a son of Rhyn'athel. Perhaps because he was the Lachlan.

How can I be certain? he wondered. Yes, he had spoken to Lachlan, but it been a dream. But it had not been an ordinary dream. He had felt Lachlan’s power even as the High King had stood on the threshold between life and death. Everything about Lachlan had been familiar.

Shadowhelm shook his head. Somehow, he had known that Eihwaz was not his sword, as much as he desired it. He had known all along that it was Romarin's – though how or why, he could not say. Now, as a son of Rhyn'athel, Shadowhelm knew he had powers beyond ordinary men, but how to use them or what they were, he did not know. Perhaps that is why he relied so heavily on the sword. Maybe that was why he had to find Lachlan’s own sword, Uruz.

I may die in the attempt, he admitted. But I have to try.

Hagalaz first, the voice said. Then Uruz.

Uruz. Even now, the name beckoned him to claim it. And yet, one touch by the wrong hand was death. He felt a shiver run through him and yet, he felt no fear of it. He might not be the one; but then again, he might.

Romarin knew where Uruzlay. Both Lachlan and Romarin had said so. The search for the sword was not a failure as Romarin had led Shadowhelm to believe. What dread secret could Romarin be hiding by not telling Shadowhelm where the Sword was?

How could Romarin stay silent over the Sword’s resting place for over a century? Until now. Why?

###

Vaurgar reined his horse and motioned for the others to halt. They were still in the forest and riding single file through the aspens and conifers, but up ahead was a small clearing. Shadowhelm tried to get a glimpse of what was going on ahead of them. He could catch a whiff of smoke from a campfire and the stench of something far more unpleasant. Shadowhelm recognized the carrion stench immediately.

They rode slowly forward and the camp came into full view. Vaurgar halted them again and they sat silently as they surveyed the grisly scene.

This had been an Eltarcamp. There were five tents, but all but one were collapsed. A small fire still smoldered in a firepit, but Shadowhelm could see Eltar bodies strewn everywhere. Flies buzzed around the bloated corpses. A few ravens squawked as they fought over the carrion. Some Eltarhad been butchered and hacked into pieces; others had terrified expressions on their faces as they lay with their unseeing eyes facing skyward.

"Stay back!" Vaurgar snarled and rode forward. He drew his sword. Shadowhelm watched as he trotted the horse into the camp and circled around the bodies. At one point, he dismounted and nudged a body over with his foot.

Shadowhelm watched curiously. "What is it?" he whispered to Taryn as the Eltarrode alongside him.

Taryn shook his head. "I don't know – we've found a number of Eltarcamps like this. Some madness took over their camp and many killed each other by fighting, but there were some…" He shuddered. "Drained." He paused. "I can't describe it."

Shadowhelm watched as Vaurgar mounted his horse and rode back. "They're all dead," Vaurgar announced. "Whatever it is, it feeds on Eltar."

"A demon, perhaps?" Kyr suggested.

"Most likely – it'll feed on Eleionand Ansgar as readily," he said. Vaurgar glanced at Shadowhelm. "It might even find Shara'kaipalatable."

The Eltarlaughed, but Shadowhelm saw the fear in their eyes.

###

Romarin and Kelersil followed an hour behind. As they entered the Eltarcamp, they reined their horses.

"What happened here?" Romarin said. He felt uneasy, but could not sense what it might be.

"This is a cursed place," Kelersil said, looking around. "There are nameless creatures that hunt all life. If Allarun has sent one here from the netherworld, then it is what they deserve."

Could Shadowhelm or could we be walking into a trap? Romarin wondered. They rode past the bodies and into the forest.

###

The Eltarparty broke camp at dawn on the third day. Shadowhelm was becoming used to the routine. Taryn would bring him food and water before they mounted their horses and continued riding north. Shadowhelm said nothing of Romarin or Kelersil to Taryn, not wanting to jeopardize his friends. Although he had urged Romarin to leave, he was thankful Romarin was nearby, with a sword if needed. Thinking of the king as a brother – albeit a half-brother – brought comfort to the Shara'kai. Knowing, too, that Kalena lived gave him hope.

Shadowhelm grew stronger under Taryn's care, but both men kept the ruse that the Shara'kaiwas still weak. Taryn was the only healer there and none could diagnose Shadowhelm's injures. Taryn was right about the Eltar– they left Shadowhelm alone because they were fearful that if they killed the Shara'kaiwith their torture, they would have to answer to Allarun, himself.

This did not prevent the verbal abuse and occasional cuff. Shadowhelm endured it, knowing now he would have his revenge, if he was patient. Still, it took all his self-restraint from killing Vaurgar. The Eltargeneral took great pleasure in antagonizing Shadowhelm.

The Eltarhad ridden for half the day when they came to a large, fast-moving river. The waters were dark and cold. In some areas, ice encrusted the river. Vaurgar reined his black horse and considered the ford ahead, raising his hand in a signal to stop and wait.

Shadowhelm watched as the Eltargeneral rode tentatively forward. The river was lower now that it was autumn, but the icy torrent was no less daunting. Vaurgar rode into the icy water. The horse pranced nervously as the water swirled around its legs as Vaurgar whipped it, driving it deeper into the river.

"Vaurgar will beat that animal until it does what it's told or dies," Taryn muttered under his breath so no one except Shadowhelm heard.

Shadowhelm smiled bitterly. "The horse would save us a lot of trouble if it threw him into the torrent."

"Patience, friend, our time will come," Taryn whispered.

Vaurgar halted as the water came past the horse's belly. He turned the beast around and rode back. "They can swim it," he declared.

"My lord, there is a ford a mile upstream from here," said one Eltar. "The water is shallower and…"

"You dare question me, Fyrrin?" Vaurgar snarled, glaring at the Eltarwho made the suggestion.

"No, my lord, I thought…" Fyrrin stammered looking for help from the others. If the others were sympathetic, their faces were masks.

"I don’t want your thoughts," Vaurgar said coldly, his dark eyes meeting Fyrrin's own gaze. "I want your complete and absolute obedience. Allarun didn't raise the Eltarto greatness by committee, but by absolute power, Fyrrin. Don't ever forget that. Your obedience to Allarun will make you great – as it has made many Eltargreat."

"Yes, my lord," Fyrrin said, lowering his eyes.

"I’ll forgive you – this time – for your impudence," Vaurgar said.

"My lord is most forgiving," Fyrrin said, keeping his eyes lowered; his expression carefully neutral.

Vaurgar turned and saw that Shadowhelm's level gaze rested on him. "You see, Shara'kai, why Lachlan failed?" he said. "Lachlan never demanded obedience even from his lieges."

“Perhaps that's what made Lachlan strong,” Shadowhelm replied evenly. “It wasn’t until Allarun pressed him to be a conqueror that the Eleionkindreds objected. Perhaps his one failing was trusting Allarun too much. When he returns, he won’t make that mistake again.”

Vaurgar rode forward and cuffed Shadowhelm so hard the Shara'kai nearly fell from his horse against Vaurgar's own steed. The Eltargeneral pushed him away. “You will not speak in this insolent manner, mongrel!”

Shadowhelm raised his cuffed hands to wipe the blood from his eyes with his sleeve and smiled coldly. “You’re very brave, Vaurgar, when you think you are in control. Unbind me and hand me Eihwaz and we’ll see how brave you really are.” Vaurgar whirled the horse around ready to strike him again.

Taryn rode between them. "My lord, you do not wish to incur Allarun's wrath!"

For a moment, Vaurgar hesitated and the angry fire left his eyes. “No, my good servant, you’re right,” he said, lowering the cudgel. “We don't want to deprive the Dark Lord of his quarry.” He nodded. “We cross now.”

Vaurgar rode forward, leading the Eltar. Taryn and Shadowhelm rode last. “That was foolish, Shara'kai,” Taryn hissed.

“Was it?” Shadowhelm grinned, wiping the trickle of blood from his mouth. His cloak billowed slightly in the breeze and Taryn caught the glint of Eihwaz'shilt. The Eltar'seyes widened. “It's an old trick a thief taught me long ago. Don't worry – Vaurgar won't find it,” Shadowhelm said, sliding his hand from the shackles.

Chapter Forty-One

Kalena awoke to the morning light gleaming through the forest canopy. She lay in one of the many chambers within Laddel's castle – she recognized polished redwood of the walls and the open canopy.

Kalena felt weak as though her strength had drained away. Her body ached as she moved, and her eyes closed again. "Shadowhelm – it must have been a terrible dream – we are still in Caer Ladren," she whispered. She turned over to feel the Shara'kai'sembrace.

Instead, Kalena found herself alone and disorientated. The memory of the fight with Vaurgar returned. She threw the blankets from her and stood up. Her armor, bloody and rent, lay by the bed. A fresh set of clothes lay nearby: a gray-green tunic, breeches, and cloak. Kalena tugged the clothes on and as she pulled on her boots, she became dizzy and nauseous. As she waited for the feeling to pass, Kalena gazed at the armor and realized that she had lost a lot of blood. She willed herself forward, buckling her sword belt around her waist, driven by a single thought: Vaurgar had captured Shadowhelm.

Kalena knew that Shadowhelm would have never allowed Vaurgar to capture him so easily, unless he thought it might spare their lives. Her life,she thought, chagrinned. And she had nearly died. She stood up and left the room.

Kalena walked down one hallway, when she turned and saw the Laddel king approach her. "Shadowhelm is in grave peril. Vaurgar has…"

"Peace, Chi'lan, I know," Laddel said, raising a hand. "You shouldn't be standing right now – you’re still very weak from the blood loss."

"I feel fine," Kalena lied. "I must find Shadowhelm."

"Romarin is already in pursuit," Laddel said. "He’ll find the Shara'kai."

"Romarin?" Kalena repeated. "How?"

"He found you near death not far from Caer Ladren. Romarin came to find Shadowhelm to claim Eihwaz, but he was too late."

"Kelersil…" she began.

"Kelersil barely escaped the Yeth Hounds. Had Romarin not been there, he may not have been so fortunate," Laddel said.

Kalena closed her eyes. Through the fog, she remembered hearing Romarin's voice: You belong with him… She turned to Laddel. "What of Shadowhelm?"

"Romarin will free him – if he can. Otherwise, Vaurgar will take Shadowhelm to Sehduk's Keep."

Kalena shuddered. "Shadowhelm is a great warrior – the best I've seen – but could he stand up to Allarun without the Lachlan?"

"Shadowhelm has done so before," Laddel replied. "Allarun fears the Shara'kai– Allarun, for all his power, failed to see the Shara'kai. That alone makes Shadowhelm that much more dangerous. No one, not even I, saw Shadowhelm until the battle of Caer Sithar."

"Then I must find him," she said.

"They have a five-day start on you – and you’re needed here," Laddel said. "Your army is with Joreid, the Haell Queen, but they’re leaderless without Romarin or Shadowhelm. You must prepare for the battle ahead."

Kalena paused, indecision flickered in her silver eyes. "Very well," she said at last. "Against my better judgment, I’ll stay."

###

Allarun smiled as he stood in the Temple of Death. No longer the thin, pale creature he had been, he was growing stronger with each passing day. He was beginning to look like the warrior he had been when he had killed Lachlan on Darkling Plain those many years before.

Vaurgar had captured the Shara'kaiand he would soon be in Sehduk's Keep. The Prophecy – and the maddening nightmares – would end once and for all. Then, Allarun would crush what few Eleionremained.

He had been far too tolerant of the Laddeland Haell. Their existence had been a thorn in his side since Darkling Plain. Laddel and Joreid would join forces with Romarin to attack Allarun's army. Allarun laughed at the thought – their pitifully small armies could not hope to match his might.

Allarun drew Hagalazand felt its power flow through him. He hated the Sword of Destiny – for in it was also Lachlan's power. Still, it had proved useful over the years. He concentrated on the fireworms and the great firedrakes. Allarun would send the dragons to Caer Ladren and destroy the Laddel'sfortress. He concentrated on the dark sword and felt…

Nothing.

Allarun paused, rage glowed in his dark eyes as he held Hagalaz's blade until blood ran from his hands. The power was there: he could feel it. And yet, he could feel something else…

Lachlan.

Allarun threw the sword and it clattered against the onyx floor. He glared at the dark altar and the skulls that lined the walls. Each one seemed to laugh at him as he stood, powerless to summon the dragons.

Lachlan appeared in his mind. The Prophecy has begun, my old enemy, the warrior said.

"I’ll kill both the Shara'kaiand Romarin Nevfaras," Allarun replied. "And I’ll feed your soul to the Sehduk." He shook his head, clearing the vision. Allarun had other powers – darker and more sinister. He began the incantation to summon the demons of Areyn. To summon the Undead.

###

"A rider approaches," Ladsil said, turning to Laddel.

The LaddelKing rode at the head of his army. He paused as his pale eyes gazed on the figure as it rode from the forest onto the plains. He rode beside Ladsil, his son, as they made their way toward Darkling Plain. "It is Joreid," Laddel said.

"The Haellqueen?" Ladsil asked.

Laddel nodded. "She is here for the same reason as we are."

Joreid rode up on a fiery chestnut stallion, tossing back her cloak hood. She was still as beautiful as Laddel remembered her, but her face held a determined look. She wore the adamantine chainmail of a warrior and the gold and silver colors of the Haellclan.

"Laddel, my old friend," she greeted the Laddel king. "Once again, I come to you for an alliance."

Laddel smiled. "Lovely queen – the Laddelare always your ally."

"Would these were better times – Vaurgar has captured the Shara'kai."

"I know and Romarin pursues them even now," Laddel replied as they rode together. He caught a glint of something behind Joreid's fierce mask, but said nothing. "Allarun has captured Ni'yah and holds him in Sehduk's Keep."

"The fool," Joreid growled. "Allarun dares imprison a god?"

"Allarun is becoming more bold – he will try to kill Shadowhelm in the Temple of Death," Laddel said. "If he succeeds, the Prophecy may be no more."

Joreid shook her head. "The Lachlan will have to look out for himself. We have more pressing matters."

Laddel met her gaze. "More pressing than the Lachlan?"

"Allarun is summoning the Undead."

A silence ensued. "So, the Shara'kaibroke Allarun's power over the dragons," Laddel said at last. "We can’t destroy that which cannot die."

"Romarin can," Joreid said.

"The Red Wolf is powerful, but we don't know his place in the Prophecy anymore than the Shara'kai’s," Laddel said at last.

"But Romarin will be a Swordwielder – certainly you have seen it," Joreid pressed.

"I see many things and many possibilities. Your vision is but one of many – and all that I see does not end happily," he paused. "Reading the Wyrd is a tricky business, Joreid, and one not entirely predetermined – even by Lachlan's Prophecy. Romarin may not be chosen – and you may have sent him to his death."

Again, something flickered in her golden eyes. "Romarin is our only chance against the Undead," she said at last. "He must claim Eihwaz and he must return. Otherwise, we’re all dead."

Laddel glanced at his son. "Ladsil, Romarin and Shadowhelm."

The Laddelprince nodded. "I will."

"Tell Romarin that we need him here with Eihwaz," Joreid said. "Tell him that Lachlan's fate is in the hands of the Lachlan. Ours is not so certain. Allarun has called the Undead."

Ladsil nodded and leapt from the horse. In an instant, he transformed into a large gray wolf and disappeared into the forest.

"I hope he can find them," she said, turning to Laddel.

###

The torrent was fast and dark. The Eltarsteeds were strong swimmers, but the river severely challenged them. Vaurgar's black stallion lunged in the icy waters, looking to gain purchase on the river's bottom.

Shadowhelm's own horse fared no better. The stallion recognized the touch of an expert rider, but even Shadowhelm's guiding hand could not bring the horse to firmer ground easily – there simply was none. Taryn's horse shot forward to the strongest part of the current. The chestnut mare wasn't as strong as Shadowhelm's horse and the current dragged both horses downstream.

Both Eleionand Shara'kai tumbled into the cold, dark water. The chains dragged Shadowhelm down and he struggled to keep from being trampled by the panicky animal. Freeing his hands, Shadowhelm pushed himself away from the horse's flailing legs. He tangled in the stirrups and chains before bursting into the air, gasping for breath.

The fast moving river threatened to drag him under again. Shadowhelm fought the current, and looking around saw that his horse was swept downstream. There was no sign of Taryn or his horse. Shadowhelm's boot kicked and hit something soft. Instinctively, he dove into the icy water, and fighting the current, his hand rested on Taryn's dead horse, snagged against a fallen tree. Shadowhelm found Taryn beneath the horse – his body did not move. Shadowhelm pulled the Eltarfrom beneath the horse and swam to the surface.

The current was strong here and swept both Shadowhelm and Taryn farther down the river. How long they traveled, Shadowhelm could not guess. Ice formed along the bank and threatened to choke the river, but the current ran under. Desperately, Shadowhelm grasped at the ice, but the pieces crackled in his hands and he slipped under.

The icy water was beginning to freeze his limbs. His feet and hands were already painfully numb. Shadowhelm was a Northman and knew well the dangerous situation he was in. He had to make it to shore before hypothermia set in and took him to his death.

But the more immediate danger was drowning. The ice flowed by at an alarming speed, like frosty glazed glass above. Shadowhelm forced his limbs to propel him upward, still gripping Taryn's body in one arm. He could loosen the Eltarand possible save himself, but something within the Shara'kairefused to let go of Taryn.

We will both live, the voice affirmed his thoughts.

With effort, Shadowhelm did not think possible, he forced himself upward through the ice into the air. Gasping and coughing, Shadowhelm dragged himself out, pulling Taryn's limp form with him to the rocky shore.

Exhausted, Shadowhelm collapsed, but he knew Taryn wasn't breathing. Shadowhelm coughed out the water in his lungs and dragged himself over to Taryn. Turning the man over, Shadowhelm pushed on Taryn's back. Water poured out of the Eltar'smouth and Taryn coughed violently.

The air was colder here. The river had run north, towards the great northern sea. Snow covered the rocks and Shadowhelm wondered how far north the river had taken them.

Shadowhelm began shivering violently – the cold air and the icy water had lowered his temperature to near death. He closed his eyes, his last thoughts were how he failed the Lachlan.

Chapter Forty-Two

Romarin and Kelersil rode forward to the icy torrent. Kelersil stared at the river's dark waters. "You don't think they crossed here, do you?"

Romarin gazed at the river. "With Vaurgar, who knows?" he said, but Kelersil saw concern mirrored in the Lochvaur's silver eyes.

"Look! Here's their hoof prints," Kelersil said. "They go right into the water…"

Romarin shook his head. "Shadowhelm has the Sight…"

"But could he have seen the torrent?"

Romarin gazed into nothingness. Images flashed before his eyes. One image became clear: two lifeless bodies lay next to the river. He jolted out of the trance and turned to Kelersil. "By Rhyn'athel, we must find him. Shadowhelm washed away with an Eltar named Taryn."

"Is he even alive?"

Romarin paused, holding the image in his mind. "I think so." He scanned the river. "The river runs north into the Northlands. We better keep riding if we want to find him."

###

It was early evening when a howl echoed among the mountains over Einar's cottage. The Northman had sat down to a meal of mutton stew that his wife, Kolfinna, had made. Einar was a large, sturdy man with a look about him that suggested he might have Eleionblood in his ancestry. But, if it were so, it was distant. Not that Einar discouraged the rumors.

Einar's long, silver hair was braided in the old Northman warrior-style and his beard was thick. His cuir bouilli armor and steel sword hung near the hearth. No one knew how old Einar was – not Kolfinna, his wife, nor Geiolf, his son. The townspeople often said that Einar had fought in the last three Purges when Allarun had marched against the Northmen. If that were true, then Einar was very old. The last Purge had been over twenty years before, but the two Purges before that were over a hundred years ago.

"That wolf!" Geiolf exclaimed as he stormed into the cottage. "He's taken two lambs today!" Geiolf was a younger version of his father with long, brown hair and green eyes. He threw the longbow and quiver filled with arrows down on the table in disgust.

Einar considered his son. "Did you see it?"

"Aye, I did, Father, and I shot at it."

Einar's brow furrowed. "You shot and missed?"

"Several times!" Geiolf said. He shook his head.

Kolfinna eyed them both. "That I can't believe," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "You're the best archer in the Northlands."

"Aye, he is," Einar agreed. "Geiolf can shoot a mark over a hundred yards. What manner of wolf is it?"

"A big one that moves like the wind," Geiolf replied. "Twice the size of any I've seen before."

Einar stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I must see this wolf."

###

"The Shara'kaiis dead," Vaurgar said to Allarun's apparition. Vaurgar stood on the mountain overlooking the river below. The Eltarmade a dark fire on the mountaintop from where Allarun's apparition appeared. "Both Shadowhelm and Taryn were swept away in the current. Shadowhelm was fettered and there is no way he could have escaped."

"Pity, but perhaps that is for the best," the Dark Lord said. "Now that we have the Shara'kaiout of the way, we can focus on destroying Romarin and what remains of his troops." He paused. "Did you bring the Shara'kai'ssword?"

"No, my lord," Vaurgar replied. "It, too, was swept away in the river."

Allarun hesitated as though the thought troubled him. "It is no matter," he said at last. "Perhaps it is best it stays lost at the bottom of River Carnon. You have done well, my son. Come home – we have a war to fight."

###

Shadowhelm lay unconscious for some time. A few times, he willed himself to consciousness, his vision cloudy, as he tried to force himself up. His hands clawed the rock and ice as if he tried to gain purchase on a world that was slowly slipping away from him. Once or twice he held on, but the pain was too great and he fell back into unconsciousness.

In his last attempt, his fingers curled around something hard and cold. It took him a moment or two to recognize the form – it was a sword hilt. But of what sword? For a long time, Shadowhelm forced himself to focus on the blade. It was broken, but it glowed in his clouded vision like a beacon. He focused on the runes. One rune filled his vision: Uruz. Strength. Lachlan’s Sword. The Great Sword of Destiny.

Shadowhelm stared at it a long time. He felt as though he knew this place and where it lay. He tried to concentrate, but the overwhelming cold numbed his thoughts. In the mist of his delusion, he felt a wet nose press against his face.

Shara'kai, do not succumb to the death,the wolf said plainly.

"Ni'yah?" Shadowhelm's lips moved, but he could make no sound.

I am Ladsil, son of Laddel, grandson of Ni'yah,the wolf said. Laddel sent me.

But Shadowhelm was too far gone to fully comprehend the words. At last, unable to fight the growing weakness, Shadowhelm surrendered to the darkness.

The wolf pawed the Shara'kaiand then took off toward the settlement.

At first, Shadowhelm's dreams were disjointed and convoluted, as are so many dreams. Shadowhelm saw the faces of Romarin, Kalena, Allarun, and many others. Some he recognized; others, he did not know. At one point, he stood in a dark chamber facing Ni'yah, the great wolf. The wolf lay bound to a great throne. He looked up and beheld Shadowhelm.

I cannot help you here, the wolf said. You must seek the Lachlan.

The vision faded and darkness enveloped the Shara'kai. A light shone in his vision and he stood face-to-face with Lachlan. The Lochvaur warrior held Uruz before him. Shadowhelm stood before him and grasped the blade. Their gazes locked.

I send you back one last time, Shadowhelm, the next time we meet, I will return.

Shadowhelm nodded, allowing himself to be drawn back to the world of the living.

###

Einar stared at the wolf as it howled below the cliff near the River Carnon. The light was growing dim and the wind was turning colder. Einar was angry because it also meant that supper would be cold when they returned. Still he couldn't let the creature ravage his flocks.

"Damn animal!" he growled. "You should have gotten a shot in when you were able to, Geiolf."

Geiolf snorted. "I did shoot at it. Several times. The creature isn't natural." Geiolf notched an arrow and aimed it. He let the arrow loose and it sailed towards the wolf.

The wolf dodged the arrow and waggled its head at the two men below. It held the sheep carcass in its mouth as though taunting them.

"That's it! That's my good ram!" Einar fumed. He drew his sword and looked for a way down the cliff. Einar led Geiolf along the cliff until they found a drainage where they could make their way down. Every so often, the wolf would leer at the two men.

"Damn it!" cursed Geiolf as he sent an arrow towards the wolf, only to have the shaft splinter on the rocks. "I think the beast is goading us!"

Einar led Geiolf to the river's bank. Einar stopped at the dead ram and knelt down beside it to investigate. "Damn wolf!" he swore. "The gods be ruthless! It mauled my best ram."

Geiolf wasn't paying attention. Something caught his eye near the rushing water. Geiolf notched an arrow and slowly walked towards the bank.

Einar stood up. "What do you see?"

"I don't know," Geiolf said in a hushed voice. He took a few steps and then dropped the bow. He broke into a run.

"What is it?" Einar asked, following the younger man.

"It's a warrior – he's dead!" Geiolf said. He stopped before a body. In the dim light, Einar would have missed the mud-caked red cloak and the body beneath it.

Einar's brow furrowed as he approached his son who was crouched over the still figure. “There's two here. This one's from Citadel Heights – look at the armor,” Einar said, kneeling down. “He might even have been a Chi'lanwarrior.”

"The other one's Eltar," said Geiolf darkly. "I'd wager he had something to do with this."

The Northman felt the man's cold wrist. He could barely feel a slow pulse. "Not dead – not yet," he said. "This one's Eleion – look at the hair."

"What of the Eltar?" Geiolf asked.

Einar nodded. "He's alive too, but they're both in bad shape."

"Let's turn the Chi'lanover so he can breathe," said Geiolf. "Kolfinna's a healer – maybe she can save him."

"What's a Chi'landoing in these parts?" Einar mused as he helped Geiolf turn the man over.

They both stared at the man who lay there.

"Shadowhelm?" Geiolf gasped.

"By the gods, what happened to him?" Einar said.

"I bet the Eltarmust have ambushed him," Geiolf said. "Funny thing, though, they didn't take his sword or his armor." Geiolf stared at the sword that hung from the Shara'kai'sbelt. "I've never seen a sword like this."

Einar gazed at the sword. "Be careful with that," he said. "That sword looks magical."

"Magical?"

"Some of the Eleionblades are deadly to those not meant to wield them – don't touch it."

"Why would anyone attack him and leave his armor, sword, and purse?" Geiolf asked.

"I don't think he was attacked – there's very little blood and the wounds he has are days old," said Einar, clearing the ice from Shadowhelm's blue lips. "They're both soaked – they must have fallen in the river."

Geiolf looked down the ravine they had just climbed. "Do you think we can carry them up by ourselves?" he asked.

"We'll have to – I'm not leaving either of them to die," Einar said. Together they carried the Shara'kaidown the ravine.

Up above them, the wolf watched, his tail wagging. Flashing a toothy grin, the wolf turned and vanished into the darkness of the forest.

Chapter Forty-Three

A howl echoed across the valley. Nightfall had come and they had followed the river Carnon as far as they could. Their horses were exhausted and in need of rest. They had chosen a dry spit of land close to the river to make their camp.

Romarin drew the Haellsword. Kelersil notched an arrow and both warriors stood back-to-back next to the fire. "Do you think they are Yeth?" Kelersil asked apprehensively.

Romarin closed his eyes. Instinctively, he reached out with his mind. "No," he said, relaxing slightly. "It is not a foe." Eyes flickered in the woods, catching the firelight. At once, a wolf appeared within the circle of light. Romarin held up his hand. "Wait," he said to Kelersil. "He is a messenger."

The wolf transmuted into an Eleionwith silver hair and golden eyes, cloaked in a shadowy green-gray and wearing armor. His golden eyes flickered as they moved from Kelersil to Romarin.

"Ladsil!" Kelersil exclaimed. He turned to Romarin. "This is my father."

"Kelersil," Ladsil said, grasping his son's hands. He turned and eyed Romarin appraisingly. "You are Romarin, son of Rhyn'athel?"

"I am Romarin," the Lochvaursaid.

"I am Ladsil, son of Laddel, grandson of Ni'yah," he said. "I bring news of the Shara'kai."

"Shadowhelm?" Romarin asked.

Ladsil nodded. "Shadowhelm is alive. He is with his Northmen kinsmen – they have found him."

Romarin sighed in relief. "You bring me good news."

"Perhaps not," the Laddelsaid. "Laddel and Joreid sent me to find you. You are desperately needed, Swordwielder, for the armies of Allarun are bearing down on them."

"I can't leave Shadowhelm to face Allarun alone," Romarin objected. "He will certainly seek Hagalazonce he is able to."

"Joreid and Laddel can’t withstand Allarun's power without the power of the Swords," Ladsil said. "Where is the great sword, Eihwaz?"

Romarin hesitated. "I don't have it – it's still with Shadowhelm."

"Joreid has sent me with a single message," Ladsil said. "She said, 'Lachlan's fate is in the hands of the Lachlan. Ours is not so certain. Allarun has called the Undead.'"

Romarin closed his eyes and gripped the Haellblade in his left hand. "By the Lachlan's swords! Allarun has grown in power," he whispered.

"So it has been foretold," Ladsil said. "They need you, Swordwielder, now more than ever."

Romarin opened his eyes. "I can't leave Shadowhelm," he protested. "He’s my brother."

Ladsil shook his head. "Then we are lost." He transmuted back into a wolf and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Romarin said. The wolf paused. "I do not have Eihwaz."

I do not think it will matter,Ladsil said. You are a son of Rhyn'athel – you have powers beyond any Eleion. We need you now.

Romarin was silent in indecision. Shadowhelm needed his help but Joreid and Laddel needed him as well. If Allarun could summon the Undead, the Eleionarmy would be destroyed without him. Shadowhelm would be safe with his kinsmen for the time being.

“All right, let’s go,” he said. “I have an army to lead.”

###

Shadowhelm awoke to warmth. His head ached and his hands and feet throbbed mercilessly. But he was alive. He lay in a feather bed with a thick comforter on top of him. Sunlight streamed in the window nearby. He turned and saw his armor lay on a chair. Next to it, lay his sword-belt and the great Sword of Destiny. Its golden hilt glowed in the sunlight.

Shadowhelm rubbed his head and felt the characteristic tug of stitches in his shoulder and arm. He groaned.

"Don't thrash about – you'll pull your stitches," came a woman's voice.

Shadowhelm blinked. "Kolfinna?" he asked.

The woman walked in. She was a short Northwoman with blonde hair and a sturdy look about her. She smiled. "Welcome home, Shadowhelm."

"How did I get here?" the Shara'kaiasked.

"Einar and Geiolf found you in the mountains not far from here," she said. "Thank the gods that wolf was hunting sheep in our pastures or you'd be dead for sure."

"Wolf?" Shadowhelm asked sharply.

"Yes – a big gray one," she said. "The brute didn't attack you, did he?"

"No," Shadowhelm said. "He's a friend."

"Well, you tell that 'friend' that he'd better pay for chewing up Einar's good ram," she said sternly. "Einar is beside himself over the loss."

"I'll talk to Ladsil the next time I see him," Shadowhelm said absently.

"Do you want water or food?" she asked.

Shadowhelm paused. "Yes, please," he said. "Kolfinna, there was another with me – an Eltarnamed Taryn."

Kolfinna frowned. She left the room and he heard her voice coming from the hearth. "Aye, Einar found him. He is locked in the great hall – though I suspect he is not in the condition to do much of anything."

"You must release him – he is an ally," Shadowhelm said.

"An ally is he? An Eltar? And whose side are you fighting on?"

Shadowhelm grinned. "Romarin's side."

"Son of Nevfaras?" she asked.

"Son of Rhyn'athel."

Kolfinna stood at the doorway with a mug and slices of bread. "So, Romarin has revealed his heritage at last," she mused. "We knew of it for some time, but Romarin would not speak of such things. Both Romarin's mother, Krysa, and his stepfather, Nevfaras were first-blood Lochvaur– they were cousins, albeit distantly. But, Nevfaras disappeared in Sehduk's Keep during the Purge before last. Krysa bore Romarin a full year after Nevfaras' disappearance."

"Kolfinna – do you believe in the Lachlan?"

"Ah, the Lachlan – you've heard the tale down south, have you?" She walked in with the food and handed it to Shadowhelm.

"Aye, I have," Shadowhelm said, accepting the bread. The bread was warm and buttered and he wolfed it down and then took the mug and drained it.

"Is that the manners they taught you in the south?" Kolfinna asked wryly.

"When you're starving, it is," Shadowhelm admitted. "Kolfinna, I'm wrapped up in the Prophecy. This is Eihwaz, the Second Sword of the Lachlan."

"Is it now?" she asked. "You challenged the Dark Lord to get it?"

"You don't seem surprised," Shadowhelm said. "Only an heir of Elsonre or the Lachlan, himself, can wield that blade and you act as if this is normal."

"We aren't such simple folk – you know that," Kolfinna scolded. "Einar fought as a Chi'lanwarrior for the Lochvaurfor years."

Shadowhelm stared. "A Chi'lan? Old Einar?"

"Old Einar, indeed!" Einar poked his head into the room. "This old man saved your Shara'kaiskin. What in hell have you got yourself wrapped up in?"

Chapter Forty-Four

Shadowhelm felt well enough to dress and sit in a chair by the hearth. He sat down with a large bowl of venison stew and a mug of water – Kolfinna refused to give him even watered-down mead in his condition. Einar sat across from Shadowhelm on a bench. The old warrior quaffed a flagon of mead as Kolfinna tended the fire and stewpot as it sat over the flames.

"Where is Geiolf?" Shadowhelm asked, looking around. He gazed at the weapons hung on the wall above the hearth. Einar's sword and battle-axe hung there along with various daggers, bows, arrows, and a spear. The blades still gleamed with an edge in the dim light. Beside the weapons sat Einar's longbow.

"Geiolf is out hunting – he'll be back before sundown," said Kolfinna. "He's anxious to see you."

Einar smiled as he followed the younger man's gaze. "Remember when I first taught you to shoot?" he asked.

"How could I forget it?" Shadowhelm grinned. "I wanted to shoot that longbow on the wall, there. How heavy is it? Two hundred – three hundred pounds?"

Einar chuckled. "Heavy enough, I assure you. Only you had no sense to listen when I wanted you to use a lighter bow."

Shadowhelm shook his head, laughing. "I couldn't even budge the string – I never told you that I cut my fingers on it."

"You didn't have to – I saw the blood run down the string." Einar sighed. "You were a stubborn one."

"Were?"

"You still are," Einar admitted. He stood up and pulled the bow from the wall. "Would you like to try again?"

"He'll be doing none of that for a while," Kolfinna snapped. "The poor boy's been frozen and nearly dead."

"Shadowhelm's a warrior, through and through. A proper Northman – if there were one," Einar said. "Geiolf is a warrior as well – not much into herding sheep, but he does a fair job. More of a hunter. I'll be having some of the village lads tend the flocks. Poor Geiolf had been bored senseless until you appeared."

"It's been a long time," Shadowhelm said, looking around the cottage. "Geiolf was just a skinny lad when I left."

"Now, he's the best archer in the mountains," Kolfinna said proudly, handing him a buttered roll, laced with honey. "Geiolf took that deer with one shot."

Einar grinned. "He's not a bad swordsman either."

"I'd imagine not – he learned from the best," Shadowhelm said, gazing knowingly at Einar. "You never told me you were Chi'lan, Einar."

"The subject never came up," Einar said.

"I'm sure it did," Shadowhelm replied. "I believe it's one that you didn't discuss."

"Well, tell me how you got caught up in this and why you travel with a Soul-Eater now," Einar said.

Shadowhelm related the events to them – only interrupted by Kolfinna's insistence that he eat or drink something to maintain his strength. Both Kolfinna and Einar glanced at each other when Shadowhelm told them of the Lachlan and his promise.

"Well, that is as good of a tale as any I have heard," Einar admitted. "The Lachlan, now, I wonder if Elina knew all along."

"Then you believe I spoke to him?" Shadowhelm asked, surprised.

"Indeed, I do," Einar said. "You should've been dead, that much I'm certain of. The wolf, Ladsil – that scourge! He saved your life – which I am grateful for. Even if he did kill my best ram to do it."

"He'll be relieved to hear that," Shadowhelm laughed. "I'm certain he wouldn't want to stay on your bad side for long."

"But Lachlan wanting you to find the three Swords!" Einar shook his head.

"Yes – but why Shadowhelm? Why not Romarin?" Kolfinna mused. "Romarin is the son of Rhyn'athel."

Shadowhelm paused. He had left out vital details of what Laddel had said. Perhaps it was best to tell them now. 'When I spoke with Laddel, he told me that I, too, was a son of Rhyn'athel."

Silence ensued and Kolfinna and Einar exchanged glances. "Then it has come full circle," Einar said. "Elina knew it, but she wouldn’t speak of it to us."

"I don't understand," Shadowhelm said.

"Elina was not from the south as you might think. If she was related to Nevfaras or Krysa, it was probably only distantly. Elina was Shara'kai, but she was three-quarters Eleion. Elina told me her sire was pureblood Lochvaurnamed Lochynvaur, who died in the wars."

"Lochynvaur? Heir of the Lochvaur?" Shadowhelm mused.

"That name was spelled interchangeably Lachynvaur," Einar said. "Heir of the Lachlan."

Another silence ensued and Shadowhelm stared. "Lachlan had no heirs."

"None that we knew of," Einar said. "Elina wanted you to bear that name, but both Kolfinna and I knew it would draw attention to you. You can use it if you wish."

"Lochynvaur," Shadowhelm mused. "A true Lochvaur name, if there were one." He smiled. "You were wise, old friend, to not draw attention to my heritage." He paused and met Einar's gaze. "What? There is something you aren't telling me."

"Both Einar and I believe that Lachlan did indeed have an heir," Kolfinna said. "There are legends of the Silren, among otherEleion, who fled to our lands – who mingled with the Northmen."

"Cara – his betrothed," Shadowhelm said. "I am to seek her grave – wherever that may be. I will find Uruzthere." He paused. "Of course, her son was Lachynvaur – heir of the Lachlan. Elina knew but said naught. But neither wielded the Lachlan's sword."

"They both knew the Prophecy. Perhaps Lachynvaur knew he was not the one."

"And Elina could not be," Shadowhelm said.

"But you, Shadowhelm, you’re his heir. His last heir, for both Elina and Lachynvaur were only children. As you are."

Shadowhelm stared. He put the mug down. "You believe this?"

"Aye, I do, and so does Kolfinna. Elina and she were close," he said. "I was fighting for Romarin in the south when you were conceived. Elina would not tell even Kolfinna who your father was on her deathbed."

"Elina refused to disclose your father's identity, but I knew when I first saw you," Kolfinna said. "It wasn't difficult – the Northmen have our own writings about the sons of the gods. Growing up, even Einar noticed was how similar you were to Romarin in personality and appearance. That was no coincidence – you both have the same sire."

"But why didn't you tell me this? You were always so vague when I asked you."

Einar shook his head. "I couldn't – and risk bringing Allarun against us. We suffered greatly in earlier wars with the Dark Lord. The Ansgarare a tough race, but even we have our limits. Had we not routed Allarun's army, we would still be fighting him. No, it was better that you did not know your heritage until now."

"And I am the son of Rhyn'athel as Romarin is." Shadowhelm shook his head. "Two sons of Rhyn'athel wielding the Swords of Destiny. The story is becoming familiar."

Einar nodded. "The heir of Elsonre and the heir of Lachlan, join again to fight the very evil that slew their predecessors. The story comes full circle."

"Romarin," Shadowhelm said.

"What of him?"

"He knows where Uruzlies," Shadowhelm said.

"Then he had sought Uruzand found the sword," Einar said.

"Why didn't he claim it?" Shadowhelm asked. "That’s what he sought."

"Perhaps because he couldn't," Kolfinna said. "Perhaps it was meant for another."

A silence ensued. Shadowhelm ate the rest of the stew, but his mind was on Uruz.

"We will speak no more of this," Einar said at last. "No one, not even Geiolf, should learn of this conversation before the Lachlan wields the Sword Uruz."

Chapter Forty-Five

“Until either you or Romarin wield the three swords, these are dangerous times for you,” Einar said, standing up again. “If word gets out that you’ve started down that road, it’ll bring Allarun's legions upon us before we’re ready.”

Before Shadowhelm could reply, they heard a dog barking. Kolfinna glanced out the window. “It's Geiolf,” she said.

“Mind you – speak none of this to anyone,” Einar said. “You’re here to enlist the aid of the Northmen to fight for Romarin – that is a safe story.”

"Listen to Einar – he is wise," Kolfinna said.

Shadowhelm stood up, despite Kolfinna's protestations and handed her the bowl and mug. The door opened and Geiolf strode in, bearing a rabbit and several grouse. "Brother!" Geiolf said, seeing the Shara'kai. He threw the game on the table and clasped his hands around Shadowhelm's arms. “It’s good to see you awake and alive.”

Shadowhelm appraised his stepbrother. “You were but a skinny lad when I saw you last.”

"Aye!" he said. "It has been a terribly long time. What brings you to the North?"

"It is a long story," Shadowhelm said with a knowing look towards Einar. The old man nodded. "I had come to seek help from the Northmen in our fight against Allarun. That was before Vaurgar hunted me down."

"Then that Eltarwe found should be put to death," Geiolf said. "I knew he should, but Einar would not have it until you told us the full story…"

"No! Taryn is a friend," Shadowhelm said. "He saved my life. Not all Eltarserve Allarun willingly."

"Who is this Vaurgar, then? Is that the man who did this to you?" Geiolf asked.

"Aye – though he be more of a demon and less a man," Shadowhelm replied. "He is Allarun's son."

Geiolf shuddered. "Allarun and the Eltar– those are dreadful words – the stuff of nightmares. Allarun is on the move again, is he? We hear little of his conquests this far north."

"Caer Sithar – Citadel Heights – is no more," Shadowhelm said. "Dragons leveled the city and we barely fled with our lives."

"Dragons!" Geiolf exclaimed. "How could he control the Dragons?"

"The Dark One still has the Sword, Hagalaz," said Einar. "That draws on the Lachlan’s power."

“We must help Shadowhelm,” Geiolf said. “The Northmen must aid another.”

"But Romarin is not a Northman," said Einar. "And though no one loves Allarun, there are many who believe that we shouldn’t take sides."

"They are fools," said Geiolf. "The council will see our way. They know Shadowhelm. They’d support him."

"I hope you’re right," said Einar.

###

Despite their exhaustion, Romarin and Kelersil broke camp. Their horses were weary too, but Romarin knew Joreid would not have sent the message she did if the situation had not been dire. It was still dark when they rode southward towards the Eleionarmy.

It was early morning when Romarin and Kelersil stopped to rest their horses. Romarin’s bay had begun limping and Kelersil’s sorrel looked on the verge of collapse. They found a small meadow where a stream ran through it and dismounted as their horses gulped water.

Romarin dismounted. “We’ll never make it in time,” he said. “We’re five days away with fresh horses and ours need rest.”

Kelersil frowned as he ran his hands along the bay’s leg. “This isn’t good,” he said, looking up. “Tendon injury.”

“How serious?” Romarin asked.

Kelersil shook his head. “Maybe with a long rest and treatment he’d be able to carry a rider again, but now?”

Romarin frowned and eyed the sorrel. “Do you think your horse can carry us both?”

Kelersil shook his head. “Two Laddel, maybe. A Laddel and a Lochvaur, no.”

“Can you transmute?”

Kelersil shook his head. “My sister, Ladara, could, but I can’t. Not all Laddelhave the ability.”

“I wish Ladsil had stayed. I might have been able to ride him back,” Romarin grumbled. He pulled out some meat and stale bread from the pack. “We might as well eat – we’re not going anywhere except on foot for a while.”

Kelersil shrugged. “Perhaps we’ll find another way. Maybe we’ll find some horses.”

“And maybe we’ll stumble into Eltartroops,” Romarin replied.

A silence ensued as Kelersil tended to the horse.

“If Laddel sent Ladsil for you, the situation must be grave,” Kelersil said at last. “If we don’t show up, they’re likely to send someone to find us.”

“Comforting news, I suppose,” said Romarin, eyeing the little stale bread that was left. “Do you have any more food?”

Kelersil glanced over. “You eat twice what Laddeleat – no wonder you’re so big.”

Romarin chuckled. “Maybe that’s why you Laddelare so small.”

Kelersil laughed too. He paused and considered the Lochvaur with his brass eyes. “So, what will you do when we meet with the Undead?”

“I don’t know,” said Romarin. “Elsonre had stood up against them with Eihwazin the second battle of Darkling Plain.”

“Then it can be done?”

“Elsonre died in that battle,” Romarin replied. "And I don’t even have Eihwaz.”

“Oh,” said Kelersil.

Romarin grinned in spite of himself. “No matter. Even with Eihwaz, Elsonre couldn't destroy the Undead. Maybe it is just as well I don’t have the blade. I’d be tempted to use it.”

“Perhaps Eihwaz's full power will be realized with the Lachlan,” Kelersil said.

“Perhaps,” said Romarin. He was about to speak when he saw a shadow on the southern horizon. It grew bigger with each passing moment. “Dragon,” he said, drawing theHaell blade.

Kelersil stared in the sky. “It's a big one,” he said. "One of the ancient black dragons – maybe even a Fyr-dragon – this one will be tough to kill." He drew his bow and notched an arrow, taking careful aim.

Romarin watched as the dragon circled and drew closer. “Hold your fire – he’s a friend.”

“A friend?” Kelersil lowered his bow as the dragon approached. The dragon circled once and landed, his dark wings beating slowly as his claws touched the ground. All at once, the dragon transmuted into his customary Eleionshape.

“Haegl!” Romarin grinned. “You’re looking better.”

“Thanks to you,” the dragon replied. “And to the lady. I am in your life-debt.” He paused. “Joreid sent me to find you.”

Romarin ignored Kelersil’s sidelong glance. “It’s a good thing. My horse is lame and Kelersil’s horse can’t bear us both.”

“I must bring you back to the army to destroy the Undead. Where is Eihwaz?”

Romarin shook his head. “Shadowhelm still has it. He intends to confront Allarun and take Hagalaz.”

“If we don’t have at least one of the Swords of Destiny…”

“I’m still a son of Rhyn'athel and the Shara'kaihas broken Allarun's hold on the dragons,” Romarin said. “And as you know, Lachlan could destroy the Undead.”

“But you’re not Lachlan – at least, not yet.” The dragon's eyes narrowed. “The knowledge of how to destroy Undead died with Lachlan on Darkling Plain. We risk everything without a Sword of Destiny.”

“The knowledge didn’t die with Lachlan,” Romarin said. “There’s another who has destroyed the Undead before.”

Kelersil looked at Romarin quizzically but said naught.

“We risk Shadowhelm’s life – if he’s indeed the Lachlan,” Haegl said stubbornly.

"Shadowhelm is stronger than any of us realized," Romarin replied. “I suspect even Allarun has underestimated him.”

“For our sake, I hope you’re right,” Haegl replied. “Allarun has called the Undead, and even now they march on our troops. I hope that we can conquer them without a Sword of Destiny.”

“Let’s go,” Romarin said. “We have no time to waste.”

Chapter Forty-Six

Haegl flew with both Eleionon his back, faster than Romarin had ever seen him fly. The sun crept high into the sky as they flew southwards towards the army. Kelersil had released the horses, explaining that the Laddelhorses were trained to find their way back to Caer Ladren. Romarin was a bit skeptical that the horses were capable of avoiding predators, but knew that they had little choice. They removed the saddles and bridles and took the packs with them.

While flying Romarin could see the lay of the land. In the distance, the small Eleionarmy encamped just along the edge of the great Darkling Plain. He noted that Laddel and Joreid had chosen higher ground along a small ridgeline for their troops. It would give them a slight tactical advantage over any army coming from the north. The miles of dark grasses had given the plain its name, although some legends said the plain had been named so after the battle between Rhyn’athel and Areyn Sehduk, when the gods fought over this world.

“Fireworms!” Kelersil exclaimed, breaking Romarin from his reverie. The Laddel warrior had been mostly silent. Romarin looked and could just make out the dark shapes rising along the horizon.

“They see us,” Haegl remarked. “I don't know if I can find a safe place before they reach us.”

An odd thought entered Romarin’s mind – almost as though a second voice was speaking to him. “Haegl – can only Swordwielders speak wormtongue?”

Haegl's head whipped around, his red eyes glowing. “No, great mages have summoned the fireworms before. What are you thinking?”

“I don't know. Could Lachlan speak to the fireworms before he forged the Three Swords?”

“Of course he could,” Haegl said. “He was the son of Rhyn'athel…” The dragon glanced at the Lochvaurking. "Of course – why didn’t we think of this?"

“I couldn’t speak to them before because Allarun controlled the dragons through Hagalaz. Shadowhelm broke the link.”

The fireworms flew closer. "If you’re going to do something, I suggest you do it now,” said Haegl. The dragon slowed and assumed a defensive position in the air.

“Wait!” Romarin said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The fireworms stopped in midair, hovering before the dragon.

What does the son of Rhyn'athel wish of us? one of the fireworms hissed.

Kelersil exhaled in relief. “They understand you?”

“Quiet,” Haegl snapped.

Romarin felt giddy. He had never spoken to the fireworms in their language nor had their words made any sense before. Do you remember your oath?

We remember, Son of Rhyn’athel.

Come to me when I call, said Romarin. But for now, you are free.

The fireworms flew off. Haegl eyed Romarin before turning and flying south. You are not the same, the dragon said.

No, my old friend, I’m not,Romarin replied.

###

"A dragon is approaching the Eleionarmy," Kyr reported to Vaurgar.

Vaurgar scanned the skies and saw Haegl's form in the distance. "Our fireworms will take care of it," he said.

"There are none to be found!"

"What?" Vaurgar wheeled around. "What do you mean?"

"It's as if something has broken the spell," said Kyr.

"Impossible!" Vaurgar snapped. "Hagalazcontrols the worms – nothing can break its power."

"Nothing except Eihwazand Uruz," said Kyr.

Vaurgar backhanded the Eltarand sent him sprawling, slicing open the man's face with a gauntleted hand. "You will not say those vile words in my presence! The Prophecy has ended. The Shara'kaiis no more. Eihwaz is at the bottom of River Carnon and Uruzis lost for all eternity!"

"Yes, my lord," said Kyr, wiping the blood from his eyes. If Vaurgar saw the murderous look in his general's eyes, the Eltar lord ignored it.

“We will summon the Undead and attack at once,” Vaurgar said.

###

Haegl landed in the clearing. Joreid, Laddel, and Falar approached the dragon as Romarin and Kelersil dismounted. The dragon transmuted into his Eleionform once more.

"Joreid," said Romarin, taking the Haellqueen in his arms. Joreid was more beautiful – and lethal – to him in adamantine mail with an enchanted Haellsword at her side. He smiled as he ran his hand through her silver-gold hair. “I’ve missed you.”

Joreid's gaze drifted to Romarin's sword-belt. “Where’s Eihwaz?”

Romarin frowned. “I couldn’t take it before I had to turn back.”

Joreid pulled away and shook her head. “Then we are lost.”

“No, we’re not,” said Romarin. “Shadowhelm seeks Hagalaz. I’ll deal with the Undead.”

“How?” Joreid asked.

Romarin turned and met Laddel’s gaze. “Eihwaznever had enough power to destroy the Undead by itself, but Lachlan never relied on it. Did he?”

Laddel shook his head. “No, he didn’t.”

Joreid stared at Laddel. “Then his power?”

“Lachlan commanded his own power when dealing with the Undead,” Laddel said.

“You’ve destroyed the Undead?”

Laddel shook his head. “I was younger and much more powerful. We relied on the powers of the Lochvaurchampions: Lochvaur, Fialan, Lachlei, and others. And yes, of course, Lachlan.”

“And now you have another son of Rhyn’athel,” Romarin said. “Teach me what I must do.”

“Can he do it?” Joreid asked. “We’re only eight thousand – including what is left of the Chi'lan. Our spies estimate that Vaurgar has well over twenty thousand living troops at his disposal.” She paused. “And of the Undead? We have seen twice again that many summoned in the Wyrd.”

“Those are frightening odds,” said Kelersil.

“They’re worse than you can imagine. We can’t kill that which will not be killed.” Joreid shook her head. “We’re outmatched.”

“They can be destroyed,” Romarin said. “Adamantine slays their bodies, if for a short time.”

“But sixty thousand against eight thousand?”

“Allarun no longer has the dragons.”

They all turned to Haegl who had spoken.

“This isn’t just your war,” Haegl said. “The dragons have suffered under Allarun’s control. We will fight for the sons of Rhyn’athel.”

“Dragon fire can destroy Undead,” Romarin said, meeting Joreid's gaze.

“If they will heed your call,” Joreid said.

"The Fyr-dragons do not forget our life-debts," the dragon said. “We will fight for the sons of Rhyn’athel.”

###

Shadowhelm stood in the Great Hall of the Northmen. It was much as he remembered it in his youth – a huge hall hewn from oak timbers. Carved pillars in the shape of dragons held the Great Hall's rafters in place. In the center was the fire pit and an opening in the rafters where the smoke escaped. Rows of benches lined the pit's rim, where the nobles sat. A rough-hewn throne sat on the far wall opposite of the heavy, ironbound oak doors. There sat Thorolf, King of the Northmen.

Thorolf was Ansgar, though Shadowhelm could see Shara'kaitraces in his features. He was a large, sturdy man with red hair and beard, braided Northman-style. He wore the heavy cloak made from a bearskin and a necklace of bear and wolf teeth. A gold crown rested on his brow, but that was the extent of his royal finery. He wore the customary tunic and breeches of a warrior with fur-lined boots laced to the knees.

The Northmen had chained the Eltarto one of the pillars. Taryn's expression remained constant when he saw Shadowhelm. Geiolf stood beside the Eltar. “My step-brother says that you’re an ally – he’ll bargain for your release,” Geiolf whispered.

Taryn inclined his head in acknowledgement, glancing down at the bandages on his hands. The Northmen had treated him well, forasmuch that he was considered an enemy.

Shadowhelm strode forward, heedless of the royal protocol. “Thorolf!” he said in greeting, his gaze level on the king. “I come from Caer Sithar, bearing news from Romarin.”

“We care naught of the affairs of the Eleion, Sceaduhelm,” said Thorolf coldly. “The war you are in – this war of the Lachlan – is not the Northmen's war. Eleionbegan this war – it is their affair to settle.”

“What affects the Eleionwill affect our people as well,” Shadowhelm said. “Allarun will turn his gaze to the north next.”

“You bring your Eltarfilth among us, Sceaduhelm,” Thorolf said, waving his hand towards Taryn. “You claim this to be an ally. How can the Northmen trust your words?”

Einar stood up from the benches, his hand straying to his sword hilt. “This is Sceaduhelm, son of Elina! How dare you question his motives or his allegiance!”

“Einar, son of Ulf, do not question your liege-lord!” Thorolf snarled.

“Peace, Einar,” Shadowhelm said, glancing at his foster-father. “Thorolf, I am a Northman, through and through. The blood of the Northmen runs in my veins as surely as the Eleionblood. I come to you, in the name of the Lachlan, to fight with us. For if we lose this war, Allarun will come and destroy the Northmen.” He paused. “I have seen it.”

A silence ensued and Thorolf considered the Shara'kaithoughtfully. “You have the Sight then. You know this to be true? Elina was said to have the Sight.”

“I can see your own death at the hands of the Eltarif you fail to join us now.”

Thorolf frowned. “Take your Eltarand go, Shara'kai. The Northmen will not aid you.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

Allarun stood before the altar at the Temple of Death. Along either side on the chamber stood his loyal warriors, waiting for him to use the power of Hagalazonce more. The light was ruddy from the many candles and torches and smoke filled the room. The heady incense filled his nostrils and he drank in the emotions as they permeated the room.

Terror.

Allarun smiled coldly as he gazed at his first victim. She was an Eltar serf, dragged from her hut, no doubt, to feed his power. She was dirty and thin – wearing not much more than rags, really. Her dark eyes were wide in terror and the guards had bound and gagged her. Beneath the dirt and the bruises, she was probably pretty in her own way. But she was no one and she had no use except her life force.

He looked beyond the girl to the waiting victims. Men, women, and children. Most were young with strong spirits. Spirits that would feed his power and the power of the death god. Allarun had done this many times – often enough to where the guards had long ago learned to gag and bind the victims so they would not have to listen to their cries.

But Allarun could hear their screams and feel their terror in his mind. There was no shutting thatout, no matter how hard he tried. The link between them forced Allarun to feel their terror and death as he drank their life force. At one time, he had flinched when he took their lives. But necessity had made him callous. He had learned long ago to accept that their fear and terror was part of the sacrifice he must make to gain control.

Allarun closed his eyes and drew Hagalaz, letting the power of the dark blade flow through him. He hated the blade because it contained Lachlan’s power as well as his own. Each time Allarun drew the Sword, it reminded him of the man he had betrayed. A man who had trusted him so deeply that he would bind their powers together irrevocably.

Allarun shook his head to clear his thoughts. To summon the Undead, Allarun needed souls. The portal between Tarentor, the land of the dead, and Elren, the land of the living, would not open without the right sacrifice.

He looked into the serf’s frightened doe eyes. This was what he had to do to ensure victory against Lachlan, he reminded himself. He raised the black blade and plunged it deep into the woman, hearing the screams of terror and agony in his mind as she died.

###

Shadowhelm strode out of the Great Hall, slamming the great doors aside. It was night and the three moons, Tomah, Iamar, and Mani filled the sky with their light. Einar, Geiolf, and Taryn followed him. In the pale moonlight, Shadowhelm’s anger was all too apparent.

“Damn that fool, Thorolf! I’m wasting precious time!” he snarled. “I still don’t have Hagalazor Uruz!”

“We need troops if we’re joining Romarin on Darkling Plain,” said Einar.

Taryn met the Shara'kai'sangry gaze evenly. Bandaged from the frostbite wounds, he hardly looked the Eltarwarrior. “My lord, Thalarmor will wait. Your step-brother is right – we haven’t enough to go against Allarun's legions.”

“There’ll never be enough without Hagalaz and Uruz,” Shadowhelm said. Suddenly, he fell silent and his eyes went out of focus.

“What is it?” Taryn asked.

Shadowhelm’s eyes refocused themselves. He shook his head. “Hagalaz–Allarun is using the Sword. He’s summoning the Undead.”

“How do you know?” Geiolf asked.

“This sword I carry is none other than Eihwaz– Elsonre's own blade. I am linked to Allarun and Allarun is linked to me through the Swords.” He paused. “I can’t explain it, but I know when Allarun is using the Sword.”

“Would that mean Allarun knows when you use Eihwaz?” Einar asked.

“Perhaps, but only if I were to use its full power – something I have yet to do.”

Geiolf stared at the Shara'kai. “Something has changed you, brother. Something other than time. I see the face of an ancient warrior stare back at me.” He paused. “You do have the Sight.”

"Aye, and I fear for our people if they do not join us in battle," Shadowhelm said wearily. “I have seen Thorolf's death.”

Geiolf shuddered. “A terrible gift you possess, my brother.”

“Yes, but a necessary one,” he said. Shadowhelm turned to Einar. “Are there any freemen who would fight with us?”

Einar nodded. “You have my sword and Geiolf's bow. There are others – mostly Shara'kai– who’d fight for you. A thousand or maybe more.”

“We could use even a thousand men.”

“With you leading them, the Northmen would follow you to Areyn’s domain.”

“And yet, I can’t. At least not yet,” said Shadowhelm. “Taryn and I must go to Thalarmor. I must take Hagalazback. Meet me on Darkling Plain a fortnight hence.”

“And if you are not there?” Geiolf asked.

“Then all is lost,” Shadowhelm said. “If Lachlan has not returned to the Darkling Plain, then Allarun has won. The Prophecy has ended.”

A silence ensued. Einar gave Shadowhelm an appraising look. “It will be Winter Solstice.”

“Exactly one thousand years to the day of Darkling Plain,” Shadowhelm replied. “A thousand years is a long time to wait.”

###

It was just before dawn and already, storm clouds were gathering over the Darkling Plain. The thunder echoed across the fields as the blood red shafts of the sun glowed in the east.

Night had been tense, despite returning to Joreid and his army. Romarin had spent little time with his lover; instead, focusing on learning what he could from Laddel. The old Eleionhad seen Lachlan, Lachlei, and even the great god, Rhyn’athel, destroy the Undead.

“In those times, Areyn Sehduk used our own Eleionto fight against us once they died,” Laddel said. “Rhyn’athel ended that with the war that he fought with Areyn. That was before Lachlan and Elsonre were even born. The Undead he uses now are creatures from his own worlds. Terrible things, they are.”

“Are they demons?” Romarin asked.

Laddel shook his head. “No, but they’re almost as bad. They’re the Jotunn– creatures that are not more than a distant memory to us. They are the sworn enemies of the Eleion. After the Battle of the Nine Worlds, they were banned from this world for all eternity.”

“What is their power?” Romarin asked.

“Fear,” Laddel replied.

Now in the early dawn’s light, Romarin stared across the vast fields and saw the long line of Allarun's soldiers in the North. He glanced back at his own troops lined along the ridge. They seemed woefully inadequate against such numbers. Romarin heard footsteps and turned to see Falar standing beside him.

“There are thousands of them – how can we possibly achieve a victory?”

Romarin smiled grimly. “We must hold our own, lest there be no victory.”

Falar nodded. “There are many here who believe you will lead them into certain death.”

“Do you believe this?”

“I believe that I fight alongside a son of Rhyn’athel,” Falar said. “But there are others who are not so confident.”

Romarin grinned. “Let’s change their minds.” He led Falar back to the line and mounted the horse that awaited him.

Romarin drew the Haellsword and brandished it. He trotted his steed in front of the lines so all could see him. As he did, the wind roared over Darkling Plain and Romarin could feel the souls of the dead.

Soon, brave warriors, soon you will have your peace. The Lachlan will return, he promised them silently.

As night yielded to the day, the sky became gray and thick with snow clouds. Romarin reined his horse and noted that many shivered in the frozen air. His own breath came out frosty.

“My people!” he shouted. “Take heart for the Lachlan is near!”

A cheer rose from the warriors. They began to beat their swords on their shields. "Lachlan! Lachlan! Lachlan!" they called.

"I am Romarin, Son of Rhyn'athel!"

A great cry rose – "Romarin! Romarin! Romarin!"

Romarin grinned as he looked on Joreid. The Haellqueen nodded with a slight smile.

"We fight for our lives – our existence – and the Lachlan," Romarin spoke when the chanting subsided. "For those who shed their blood, shed it as freemen, be they Eleion, Shara'kai, or Ansgar. Anything less that we may do will keep us in bondage to the demon in Thalarmor."

Romarin paused, meeting Kalena's gaze. "The Lachlan will join us soon. He will bring the Three Swords of the Lachlan together once more. And he will triumph over the demon king. We fight today to live to see victory!"

The roar was deafening. Romarin brandished the Haellblade as he rode up and down the lines. Ansgar, Eleion, and Shara'kaicheered as the Lochvaurking rode past. "Romarin! Romarin! Romarin!" they shouted. Romarin grinned, battle lust in his eyes.

###

Kyr cocked his head. The roar from Romarin's army rolled across the silent plains. He turned to Vaurgar, eyeing the Eltar lord in contempt. "They chant Romarin's name," he said.

If Kyr was expecting a blow, it never came. Vaurgar's eyes narrowed as he listened to the joyous voices. "They sing of their own death," Vaurgar snapped. "The Undead will take them." Vaurgar turned to a soldier standing nearby. "Ready my horse," he ordered the Eltar.

Kyr smiled grimly. "You think that is so?" he muttered under his breath. "There are some things that even Areyn Sehduk cannot destroy. Perhaps many will die today, but they will not be conquered." He turned and armed himself.

###

Shadowhelm and Taryn bade farewell to Einar and Kolfinna. They rode out of the Northlands on sturdy horses, capable of traveling through the most inclement weather. Before they crossed the great River Carnon, Shadowhelm turned around for a last look.

Taryn gripped the Shara'kai'sshoulder. “You couldn't expect to persuade all of them.”

Shadowhelm shook his head. “I'm no diplomat – I'm a warrior. I spoke as a warrior to another. Thorolf is a fool and will soon regret his decision.”

“That’s in the hands of the gods now,” Taryn said.

Shadowhelm shook his head. “Even Lachlan couldn’t persuade Silvain to join his fight and for that, the Silrenpaid dearly.”

“We should make Thalarmor in three to five days,” Taryn said. "You’d best be ready.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

Darkness filled the sky as Romarin and his troops waited. The lightning flashed across the sky and the thunder rumbled over the dark plain. Legions of Eltarmarched towards the Eleionarmy and still Romarin held them back. The wind picked up and soon the air swirled with flurries. The Lochvaurking watched patiently as the Eltarcontinued their advance.

"Why don't we attack?" Falar asked, shifting on his steed. Steam came from his mouth. "We could take them now while the Undead are not here."

Romarin smiled grimly. "That’s what Allarun wants," he said. "Here on the high ground, we are defensible. If we ride into the open fields, they’ll slaughter us like cattle. Patience, my young friend. We’ll join battle soon enough."

Kalena rode beside Romarin. "Where are the Undead?" she asked, looking down on the legions. "All I see are Eltar."

"They are there," said Joreid. "They will come when they are ready." She gazed at Romarin. "Will you be ready for them, Silver Hand?"

Romarin glanced at Laddel and smiled grimly. “As ready as anyone could be.”

"Would that we had Eihwaz," Joreid lamented.

“There are other ways to destroy the Undead,” Romarin replied. "The Swords of Destiny are not all-powerful. Even Elsonre was killed by the Undead on this very plain. Adamantine will hold its own against Undead, but there’s something that even the great demons can’t fight against."

"I hope you’re right," she said.

Romarin looked into the darkening sky. I hope so too, he thought grimly.

###

Shadowhelm and Taryn rode east towards Thalarmor. The mountains of the Northmen dwindled away slowly to rolling hills and eventually to forest. They rode what had once been a road which went from west to east through the mountains and forest. It was an ancient road, now in disrepair. Even as they rode, Shadowhelm could see occasional markers written in runes of an ancient Eleionlanguage. Part of him understood what they said even though he had never seen the runes before. The words formed in his mind as though he were remembering something long forgotten.

The air was cold here as it was in the Northlands. The skies in the west were dark and foreboding as a storm vented its fury over the higher peaks. He knew the storm would either within a day spend itself on the high peaks or gather strength and drive into the valleys below.

Shadowhelm remained silent most of the time, despite Taryn's attempts to speak to him. The Shara’kai’seyes would often become unfocused and it would be as though he were gazing into another world. At times, he would see faces of people he knew and yet did not. At one moment, he would be riding next to Taryn and the next moment, be riding alongside Chi’lanwarriors. He would shake his head to find Taryn staring at him in concern.

How could he explain what he felt? Shadowhelm knew that he had to keep himself focused. Lachlan or not, the journey into Thalarmor was still dangerous. But he could not stop what was happening to him. Eihwazwas changing him at a frightening rate now after retrievingit from Vaurgar. Perhaps it was the Sword or maybe it was meeting the Lachlan, himself, that last time that was transforming him. This time, the power of the Sword of Destiny was stronger and more insistent. Shadowhelm could feel the link between himself and Romarin solidify. Shadowhelm knew now he should have given Romarin Eihwaz – that the Second Sword of the Lachlan was destined for the Lochvaurking.

Shadowhelm now also felt the pull of Darkling Plain. He knew of the battle that would soon rage over it. Romarin would be there – without Eihwaz.

We will lose all if Romarin does not carry the Sword…

###

Taryn reined his horse. Shadowhelm forced himself back to the present and stared at the carnage before them. He had been on the Darkling Plain once more riding with his army – his army or Lachlan’s army? At this point, the confusion was too great. He looked around. They were in the forest not far from Thalarmor. Just ahead was a camp, but Shadowhelm could see that all were dead. Eltarbodies lay strewn on the ground in the silent forest. Flies buzzed around the corpses – many hacked and mutilated beyond recognition. Ravens chattered over the fallen bodies, eager for a free meal. Shadowhelm watched as a fox skulked away.

"What demon did this?" Taryn murmured as they rode through. "Could the Northmen have done this?"

"I don’t think so." Shadowhelm considered the bodies. "It looks as though they fought amongst each other," he said. "What manner of demon can do that?"

Taryn shook his head. "I don’t know. There are many unnamed terrors in the netherworld."

They rode through the clearing without speaking. Something caught Shadowhelm’s eye and he reined his horse sharply. His gaze fell on a woman lying chained to a tree, her clothing torn and her golden hair disheveled.

Taryn reined his horse. “What is it?”

Shadowhelm said nothing but instead dismounted and went to her. He knelt down beside her but could not tell if she was breathing. He pulled her hair back to feel for a pulse on her neck.

Shadowhelm withdrew in shock. "Lila?"

###

Vaurgar stood along the hillock opposite to Romarin's army, pacing fervently. Kyr watched dispassionately as the Eltargeneral fumed. "What are you waiting for, Romarin?" Vaurgar said. "Attack us. We are here – ready. Come to Darkling Plain, Romarin. Why won’t you come down?"

"The Lochvaurking is a clever tactician," Kyr remarked. "He won’t be drawn from his defensible position."

"Romarin will come down," Vaurgar said, but doubt lingered in his voice. "If I have to drag him down myself. Ready the troops. I will call the Undead."

Kyr rode down the hill, dread filling him. Each time Vaurgar summoned the Undead, he felt as though the control was tenuous at best.

Chapter Forty-Nine

"You know this creature?" Taryn asked.

Shadowhelm gazed at the witch. She laid unconscious beneath blankets that Shadowhelm and Taryn scavenged from the camp. "In a way, I suppose," the Shara'kaisaid, suddenly reluctant to discuss the matter. She was more beautiful than he remembered from the dream.

What of Kalena?

What indeed of Kalena? Shadowhelm snapped and then caught himself.

"We had best leave her here if we want to reach Thalarmor in time," Taryn said.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "No, I think we should bring her."

Taryn stared for a long moment and then shrugged. "Very well, my friend, you are in charge."

###

"Vaurgar is summoning the Undead," Romarin said, his voice flat and without emotion. He sat calmly, staring into the sky as though discerning something none of them could. The snow swirled in the sky as it slowly fell. Like wraiths dancing among us, he thought.

Darkness filled the plains as fog rolled slowly over the hills. Amidst the fog, the Undead horde rose from the ground, gray and skeletal. They were large with grotesquely misshapen heads and thick bones with sharp, pointed teeth and red eyes. They drew swords and began marching towards the Eleionarmy.

Romarin stared. He felt as though something twisted inside of him and he fought the terror that welled up within him. Looking at the other Eleion, he could see that they too were affected. Only training kept them at their stations. The Laddeland Haell drew their longbows and notched their arrows, ready for the command to fire.

"The Undead are using their magic," said Joreid. "Their magic is terror. The Haelland Laddel will not flee: we have met Allarun's Undead legions before."

Romarin gazed at the Ansgar andShara'kai free-lancers. They looked grim, but were otherwise unaffected.

As though reading his mind, Joreid smiled. "The Undead’s magic only affects purebloods," she said. "Their magic would not affect your Shara'kaibrother."

"What are they?" Falar whispered.. "They don't look Eleion or Ansgar."

"I don't think they are – or were," Romarin said. He gazed at Joreid. "They were once Jotunn. I’ve never seen one but they feel familiar – like something in a half-forgotten dream."

"The Haelllegends are filled with nightmarish stories of other races," said Joreid. She glanced knowingly at Laddel.

"They are Jotunn– the creatures that inhabited these lands before the Eleionand Ansgar came," Laddel replied. "Their magic is very old."

"And very powerful," Romarin said, as he gazed on the creatures. "They’ll be tough to kill."

"Can they be killed?" Kalena asked. Her voice was strong, much to her credit, although Romarin knew she felt the wave of terror.

"Adamantine will harm them," Joreid said. "The Haell are used to tipping our arrow shafts with adamant heads. It is difficult and time consuming to process adamant, but we have learned that not having it is far more costly in lives that we cannot spare."

"Not all of the men have adamant weapons," said Kalena.

"Those who do, to the front," Romarin ordered.

"How can we? They’ll destroy us," Falar said, his voice tinged with panic.

"Fight their terror," ordered Joreid. "Hold your ground."

Laddel's mount shifted nervously. "How many are there?" the Laddelking asked.

"Forty thousand Undead," Romarin said. "And that number in Soul-Eaters."

"Sixty thousand?" Mic exclaimed. "We can’t hold back that many."

"Ready your archers with flaming arrows," Romarin said. "Tell them to shoot at anything on the ground. They’re not to shoot what comes from the sky."

"I’ll let the troops know," Kelersil said and he rode off, relieved to leave the front lines.

Romarin drew the Haellblade. It was adamantine and felt unusually cold and hard in his hands.

You will not fail, a voice within him said..

Romarin focused on those words. They seemed to come, not from himself, but something stronger within him. The voice was familiar, reassuring. He had heard it many times – before he had lost his hand. After, he had been too bitter – and too angry – to heed the voice. It had been right – Uruzhad not been his blade.

Romarin rode out before the army, brandishing the sword. It was not Eihwaz, but it was a fine blade. It had seen battle more than once before. "Ready to fire on my command!"

It was then he turned and met the Undead gaze.

All at once, the world fell away. He was no longer in Elren, but in a world of darkness and shadows. Romarin rode towards the Undead legions as they advanced. Glancing behind him, Romarin found that he was all alone.

He reined his horse and turned once more towards the Undead. Their sallow skin and sunken eyes glowed as they approached him, their bony fingers gripping their deadly swords. Romarin’s horse champed and shook its mane nervously, but the Lochvaurking brandished the Haellsword.

Romarin concentrated, focusing his power as he gazed at the Undead beyond him.

You will not pass, he said.

The creatures hesitated.

###

Falar stared at his friend. Romarin had ridden towards the Undead troops and had halted before them. He was holding his sword in front of him and seemed to be focusing on the blade, rather than the Undead before him.

"What is Romarin doing?" Falar asked. Even as he spoke, the fear fell away and his golden eyes steeled with resolved. "The terror – it is abating."

"Your king is stronger than even he, himself, realizes," Joreid said. “Romarin has challenged them – and has shown their power is meaningless to him."

###

"Damn you, Romarin! Damn you!" Vaurgar shouted, seeing the Undead hesitate.

"What’s happening?" Kyr asked.

Vaurgar gazed across the battlefield. "Romarin is using his powers to defeat the Undead's fear. Send in the Eltararchers – I want him dead."

Kyr shook his head. "The Eleionlongbow men will take our archers out – they have a greater range."

Vaurgar glared. "Our archers don't have the range?"

"We depended on the dragons," Kyr said. "Can't Allarun regain control of them now that the Shara'kaiis dead?"

Vaurgar shook his head. "Whatever the Shara'kaidid, Allarun can't reverse. The dragons are gone. I hope the Shara'kai suffered greatly when he froze to death in the river." He drew his sword. "Bring your best Eltarhorsemen – we're going in."

###

The Undead powers were strong, but Romarin stood his ground. They focused their fear on him, but he shoved it aside and concentrated. The Undeads’ power diminished and Romarin stood unaffected.

I am a son of Rhyn'athel, he said. You will not pass!

"Romarin! Romarin!" A great cry rang across the plains and the Eleioncharged, led by Kalena and Joreid. At the same time, adamantine arrows roared overhead as the longbow men shot their first deadly wave. They rained on the approaching Undead and Eltar, bursting into a hot, sulphurous flame as they met their mark. Another barrage, and another, flew overhead, finding their marks in the enemy.

###

"Steady!" roared Vaurgar as he whipped his horse into a battle charge. Two thousand Eltarrode with him, their swords drawn and ready. "Areyn!" Vaurgar shouted and the Eltartook up the cry. Archers fired from the Eleionranks, but the Eltarpaid little heed. Eltarand horse fell around him and still, Vaurgar rode forward. "I will kill you, Romarin."

###

The front lines clashed and Romarin charged forward, wielding the Haellbattle blade. An Undead warrior rode forward to meet the Lochvaurking. The creature snarled, showing its sharp pointed teeth and charged, its eyes glowing red. Romarin's horse reared and the Lochvaur king spurred it forward, swinging the great sword. The swords clashed and Romarin's blade chattered against the dark weapon. They broke free as the horses passed and Romarin reined his battle horse around.

The stench of rotting flesh was overwhelming, but he had broken the Undead's power – the Eleionwarriors fought alongside him. Romarin charged again, but this time the Undead grasped a poll-ax and spurred its phantom steed towards Romarin. Romarin reined the horse, trying to avoid the Undead, but the Undead warrior drove the point deep into Romarin's horse.

The horse buckled in mid-stride and Romarin leapt from it, tumbling onto the slick battlefield. Keeping his senses, Romarin leapt to his feet in time to see the Undead bearing down on him. He swung his blade – not at the Undead warrior – but at the phantom steed's legs. The creature screamed and collapsed, ripping the blade from Romarin's hand and driving him into the ground.

Weaponless, Romarin pulled himself up in time to see Vaurgar swinging his blade.

Chapter Fifty

Shadowhelm and Taryn had ridden several hours when they decided to rest their horses at a nearby stream. It was late afternoon and the shadows were growing longer in the forest. Shadowhelm dismounted and tied his horse to a tree and then gently lifted the witch from his horse.

Lila was still unconscious, but her presence continued to gnaw at Shadowhelm. Through the long hours of riding, Shadowhelm found he could not tear his thoughts away from her. Where he had been of two minds before seeing her, he now obsessed on her.

He had heard nothing Taryn had said to him. All Shadowhelm could do was think about how beautiful she was and how he longed to love her. The dream of her plagued his thoughts.

At the same time, he was growing weary as though he had ridden without rest for many days.

“Shadowhelm!”

Taryn’s voice and grip on his shoulder shook the Shara’kai from his reverie. Shadowhelm found himself still kneeling beside Lila as she lay ashen-pale and wrapped in his cloak. “What?” Shadowhelm snapped.

Taryn looked puzzled as the Shara’kaimet him with a cold stare. “I said you look tired, my friend. Why don’t you get some rest?”

Shadowhelm closed his eyes and nodded. He felt as though he could not move. “I don't understand why. I thought I was rested at Einar's, but the wounds must be fatiguing me.”

“Perhaps it is the burden of the Sight,” Taryn said, but his eyes rested on the witch. “Rest for a few hours – I will keep watch.”

Shadowhelm agreed and laid down not far from her, falling into an uneasy sleep. As he shifted into dreams, Lila was standing there beside him, naked and beautiful as she was when he had made love to her in the dream he had in the caverns. He grasped her and crushed her mouth against his, forcing her down to the ground...

Shadowhelm woke up to the sound of his own voice crying out. It was dark and the stars were shining overhead.

Lila was standing beside him.

"So, we meet again, Lachlan," she said.

###

"Where's Romarin?" Kelersil shouted above the fighting. He turned to Kalena who decapitated an Eltarwarrior with a single stroke and cut into an Undead.

"I don't know!" she shouted. She parried the Undead's blow, feinted, and then plunged her sword into Undead. It shuddered as the adamantine blade bit deep into it. She turned around and looked.

"Romarin!" she heard Laddel cry. At that moment, she saw Vaurgar charging his horse right for the Lochvaurking.

"Romarin!" Kalena yelled. She rode forward, pulling the si'lardagger from her belt and throwing it. The dagger met its mark, its blade buried between the articulated plates that made up the vambrace on Vaurgar's arm.

That action caused a split-second hesitation in Vaurgar as the knife buried deep. Romarin rolled out of the way as Vaurgar’s sword swung, slicing through air. Vaurgar paused, pulled the dagger from his arm and tossed it away. Romarin grasped a sword that lay by a dead Shara'kai and parried as the next blow fell.

Call the dragons.

Romarin parried as Vaurgar rode past. The dead Shara'kai's sword was a two-handed bastard sword – not the standard hand-and-a-half broadsword most Eleioncarried. Romarin swung the blade as Vaurgar rode past, aiming for the horse's legs. The horse buckled and threw Vaurgar to the ground, pulling the bastard sword from Romarin's hands. Once again, Romarin was weaponless.

Haegl! Now! Romarin shouted mentally.

Vaurgar leapt up, sword in hand. Romarin backed away as Vaurgar approached. "At last, it has come down to purebloods," Vaurgar sneered. "The Shara'kaibastard is dead and you are once again outmatched, Silver Hand."

Romarin grinned. "Not this time, demon spawn."

A shadow passed overhead. Vaurgar glanced up to see the largest black dragon he had ever seen bearing down on him. In terror, Vaurgar fled and leapt on one of his own Eltar soldier's steeds, knocking the hapless soldier to the ground and riding off.

"You took your time," Romarin scowled, picking up another sword.

Haegl grinned as the dragons and fireworms turned on the Undead. "It's not as easy as you'd think to mobilize fireworms," the dragon replied. He turned and breathed fire on Undead soldiers as they approached, charring them into dust. "You were right though – dragon fire ishot enough to destroy Undead."

###

Deep within Sehduk's Keep, Allarun awoke to blue flame burning around him. He stared beyond the flame and saw Romarin gazing back at him.

"No!" he snarled, reaching for Hagalaz, but the heat from the Third Sword of Destiny was too great. Allarun withdrew his hand and stared into Romarin's silver eyes.

The Lachlan will soon return, Betrayer.

###

Kyr rode his stallion away from the battle. Bloodied and bruised, he sought Vaurgar. Vaurgar spurred his black stallion away from the carnage.

"Where are your Undead?" Kyr demanded.

Vaurgar shot the general a venomous look. "You saw as well as I did. It was Romarin and those blasted dragons."

Kyr shook his head. "How could that be, when you told Allarun that the Shara'kaiwas dead and Eihwazwas at the bottom of a river?"

"Romarin must be the Lachlan," Vaurgar said. A fireworm passed by, spouting flames at them. Vaurgar lunged aside and Kyr's horse bolted as the fireworm pursued its quarry.

Chapter Fifty-One

Shadowhelm stood up and backed away, meeting Lila's gaze. "What are you?" he demanded. "I have never seen you before, and yet you haunt my dreams."

"I can be many things," she said coyly. She approached him and brought her arms around him, kissing him passionately. He responded to her, taking her in his arms.

She will kill you.

Something within Shadowhelm's memory stirred. This is a life-leech – she will kill you.

Life-leech – yes, that was it. The Northmen told stories of those demons. Creatures that took forms of both men and women to drink the life from their victims. He pushed her away. "I will not have you," he said.

Remember your love for Kalena.

Lila smiled again. "Doesn't my form suit you, Lachlan?" she said. "I can be more – much more. Any woman you desire…" At once, she became Kalena, perfect in every way. "Come to me, Lachlan, I can be anything you desire."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "No," he said. "Your little mind-tricks won’t work on me."

"Then, perhaps someone else?" Lila said. Kalena's form melted away. In her place was a slender Eleionwoman with silver eyes, fair skin, and white hair.

Shadowhelm stared. A part of him had never seen this woman, yet another part knew her well and longed for her. It were as though he had loved her in another life. He could not deny his visceral reaction. He took her in his arms and kissed her. "After all these long years…" he whispered. Yet, even as he kissed her, another part of him was enraged.

It was notthe voice. It was Shadowhelm, himself. He pushed her away. "No!" he snarled. "It isn't real – you aren't real." Shadowhelm drew Eihwaz.

"Lachlan, I…" Lila began, her eyes wide with terror. She transformed back into her usual form.

"Eihwazwill kill a life-leech," Shadowhelm said. "Go now!"

Without a second glance, Lila fled. When he was certain she was gone, Shadowhelm sheathed the sword and sank to the ground.

"I have never heard of anyone ever resisting a life-leech," Taryn said.

Shadowhelm looked up. "You saw?"

Taryn nodded. "Yes and I was beginning to suspect. The dead Eltar – they had fought each other over her. And then, when you recognized her and would not leave her, I knew. They hunt their next victims through dreams."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have listened?" Taryn asked. "It would’ve made you desire her even more. No, my friend, they have the most powerful demon magic. You would’ve killed me over her if I had suggested anything." He offered Shadowhelm a hand up.

Shadowhelm took his hand, stood up, and shook his head. "Thank the gods for the Northmen's legends. Those demons have plagued my people for years."

"They are perilous, but tempting. So much so that Allarun takes one as a consort from time to time."

"Allarun took one of those as a consort?"

"Several times – that one might even be his latest," Taryn remarked. "Allarun enjoyed this dangerous game immensely. When he was tired of one, he'd sacrifice it and drink its power. That's how Allarun grew so strong."

"But a life-leech?"

"One even bore him a son."

"Vaurgar?" Shadowhelm asked.

Taryn nodded. "He's more demon than Eltar."

Shadowhelm sheathed his sword. "Let's leave this cursed place," he said. "I’m weary of this. It's time for me to claim Hagalaz."

###

The sun was low on the western horizon when they approached Thalarmor on the second day after their encounter with the life-leech. Shadowhelm stared at the great granite walls of the city as they approached. Having only been inside the Sehduk's Keep, Shadowhelm was amazed at the overall size of the fortress. Ten Caer Sithars could have filled that huge fortress. Its dark towers and spires loomed over the surrounding land. Shadowhelm could see that it was originally built on a high bluff from surrounding stone, but the city had grown over time to encompass much of the surrounding land. Outside its walls, fields filled with winter wheat tended by slaves stretched for miles.

As they rode towards Thalarmor, Shadowhelm noticed that the slaves paused to glance at him as they rode by. They were bent over, weakened by long hours of brutal work and the lash. Taskmasters walked between the shackled slaves, cutting the whip into those perceived to not be working as hard as they could be. Bodies in various states of decay lined the ditches. The stench of death was overpowering. Most slaves were Ansgaror Shara'kai – few were Eleion.

Eleion don't have the stamina to survive these brutal conditions. Many Eleion died here along with the Shara'kai and Ansgar.

Shadowhelm watched as a small cart wound its way through the fields. The slaves would pick up the fallen bodies and toss them haphazardly on the cart. He glanced at Taryn, whose expression was a mask. If the sight sickened the Eltar, he had learned along ago to hide his emotions.

As a free-lancer, Shadowhelm had heard of Thalarmor and had learned to keep away from there. Allarun seldom used free-lancers and when he did, they were poorly cared for and seldom survived. But seeing the city firsthand was a different experience. The sight resolved him to end Allarun's rule.

"Lachlan or no Lachlan," Shadowhelm whispered. "I will end this."

A trace smile flitted across Taryn's lips, but his expression was grim. "There are many who have made such a vow and failed."

Shadowhelm met the Eltar'sgaze. "But they do not wield Eihwaz."

They rode to the gate and the massive drawbridge swung down over the fetid moat. Once inside the city, Shadowhelm had a chance to look on its denizens. He had never seen so many Eltarbefore – most looking not much better than the slaves that served them. The buildings within were a little better than huts – most were sod or dilapidated wooden structures. Their clothing were a little more than rags and most looked sickly.

Taryn nodded, noting Shadowhelm's dismayed expression. "The only way they escape this squalid existence is to serve the Dark Lord's army."

"One form of slavery for another," Shadowhelm murmured. "By the gods, Taryn, these are his own people."

"Evil begets evil," Taryn said softly.

The Shara'kainodded.

Chapter Fifty-Two

On their arrival, Taryn handed Shadowhelm over to the guards of Sehduk's Keep. They dragged Shadowhelm from his horse and threw him into a cell. Shadowhelm found himself once more in the lower dungeons, but he was conscious enough to note the layout and potential escape routes. As soon as he was alone, he removed the binders around his wrists and ankles with a hidden key Taryn furnished and once more set about opening the latch.

This time, Shadowhelm had stowed a sharp hook that Taryn had given him. He slipped the hook down to the bar and easily opened the door. Moving quickly, he waited first for the guard to pass and then closed the door, bolting the empty room.

The plan was quite simple. Shadowhelm and Taryn had discussed it many times before reaching Thalarmor. Shadowhelm would escape and meet up with Taryn on the upper levels. Taryn would have Eihwaz ready and then Shadowhelm would search out both Ni'yah and Allarun. Shadowhelm knew that he would have to take Hagalaz, then, if he could, he would kill Allarun.

Shadowhelm liked simple plans. Less went wrong with them.

Shadowhelm made his way carefully through the darkened corridors. He was almost to the stairs when he heard voices. He slid back into the shadows and listened.

"A wolf?" spoke one guard. "Why would Allarun keep a wolf?"

"It’s a magic creature," the second guard said. "It's twice the size of a normal wolf. Vaurgar trapped it. Some say it’s a god."

The other Eltarlaughed. "A god? There are no gods save Areyn Sehduk."

Shadowhelm's brow furrowed in consternation. Ni'yah? he thought. So, it is true – Allarun dares to imprison a god.

Stay with the plan, the voice advised. You like simple plans, remember?

Shadowhelm grinned. He slid forward, keeping to the darkness where possible, although he knew that the Eltarcould see well in the dark. He made his way to the predetermined rendezvous point and saw that Taryn was waiting. The healer thrust the sword-belt with Eihwazinto Shadowhelm's hands. The sword's power filled the Shara'kaionce more.

Taryn watched in amazement as the Shara'kai'sfeatures grew more determined and his eyes held a power that seemed to burn within. "I had heard of these swords, but I scarcely believed the legends. Now I know that they are true. If you are not the Lachlan, Shadowhelm, then there is no such creature alive."

Shadowhelm shrugged. "Perhaps, but I’m one Swordwielder out of many."

"Or perhaps you are the One. Let's go," Taryn said, leading Shadowhelm through the halls. "The Sword of Destiny, Hagalaz, is in the throne room when Allarun does not wield it…"

"Did you find out where Allarun chained Ni'yah?"

"The wolf is also chained in Allarun's throne room. Conveniently." Taryn paused. "Are you certain you want to go through with this? It feels like a trap."

"Trap or not – I must take the sword and free Ni'yah," Shadowhelm said. "I owe him my life many times over."

"Allarun may be there," Taryn mused. "You may not survive this."

"And I may kill Allarun," Shadowhelm said. "Much is uncertain – even for one with the Sight. But I must take Hagalaz. The Lachlan said first Hagalaz, then Uruz."

"Friend," said Taryn. "I barely believed in the Lachlan, until I saw you grip that sword. I believe you have power enough to kill Allarun."

"Perhaps. Each time I grip Eihwaz, I find that a part of me changes. Such is the power of the swords. Patience, my friend." He paused. "Allarun suspects much already. Take your warriors and leave Thalarmor now – Allarun may already know of your disloyalty. Romarin will welcome you on Darkling Plain."

Taryn looked as though he might argue, but then resigned himself. "Very well."

###

"How could you fail?" Allarun roared. He stood beside the dark throne, his eyes glowing red with anger as he stared at his son.

Vaurgar stood before Allarun, his face devoid of emotion. He met the Dark Lord's gaze without flinching, letting Allarun vent his anger. The Dark Lord was stronger now, more determined, since the Eltarhad seen him last. Perhaps it was ridding himself from the cursed life-leech or capturing the wolf that energized him – it did not matter. Allarun was as he had been in days when he had fought and killed Lachlan.

The wolf lay chained to the great throne. Although he appeared asleep, Ni'yah was awake. His yellow eyes were only half-shut as he listened to the dark voices.

"You had sixty thousand troops – to be bested by eight thousand Eleion," Allarun said, his voice becoming menacing and soft. "And you let Romarin defeat you?"

A silence ensued. "Romarin has control of the dragons," Vaurgar said. "Or had you not noticed that the fireworms no longer heed your command?"

"I noticed – just as I noticed that neither the Shara'kai nor Eihwazare lost to the River Carnon," Allarun remarked. He drew Hagalaz and ran a finger along the Sword's sharp edge, drawing blood. "In fact, he is here."

"Here?" Vaurgar repeated. "In Sehduk's Keep?"

"Yes. That traitor, Taryn, has brought the Shara'kai to Thalarmor." He paused, letting the words sink in. “Yes, even among your hand-picked soldiers, there are traitors. It is unwise for you to trust anyone – even those who have served you faithfully. Even the closest may betray you. Taryn brought him in as a prisoner, but has since released him.”

“Then I must capture him again,” Vaurgar said.

"Don't bother – the Shara'kaiwill come to us."

"To us?" Vaurgar said curiously.

"To me," Allarun said. With lightning speed, Allarun slashed Hagalazacross Vaurgar's face, catching the tip of the blade across Vaurgar’s right cheek. Vaurgar drew back, but met his sire's gaze unyielding as blood trickled down his face. "Next time, you will lose your head," Allarun replied. "Go and ready the troops. I will deal with the Shara'kai."

###

Shadowhelm followed Taryn as far as the Eltardared to travel through the Keep. At last, Taryn stopped and met Shadowhelm's steady gaze.

"The doors to Allarun's throne room are beyond this next hall," said Taryn. "I can’t go with you."

Shadowhelm nodded. "I understand. Go now, before it’s too late." He paused. "Seek Romarin and our troops. Romarin will welcome you once you tell him that his brother sent you. He will understand."

"Thank you," said Taryn. "And may Rhyn'athel protect you." The Eltarturned and left.

Shadowhelm drew Eihwaz, letting the sword's power strengthen his resolve. You know this is a trap, the voice said as he walked towards the throne room.

"I know," he whispered. "But I must do what I must."

The door to the throne room was wrought of darkened iron. Shadowhelm kicked the door open and charged into the room, brandishing Eihwaz. None met his challenge.

The throne room was empty, save for the wolf that lay chained to the empty throne on the black onyx floor. Shadowhelm paused and looked from side to side, expecting resistance. There was none. "Ni'yah?" he asked, but the wolf did not answer. Instead, it lay dumbly by and watched him. Shadowhelm stepped forward, uncertain to his next actions. "Ni'yah," he whispered.

"He cannot speak, Shara'kai," a voice said.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Shadowhelm turned and saw Allarun standing nearby, his hands gripping Hagalaz. But the Dark Lord had changed since the Shara'kaihad last seen him. The sallow appearance was gone, replaced by a strong, determined warrior in armor. It was as if Allarun had been reborn as the young warrior who had killed Lachlan almost a thousand years before.

Shadowhelm met Allarun's gaze coolly. Perhaps he had misjudged the Dark Lord as much as Allarun had misjudged him. What stood before Shadowhelm was a mirror image of himself, only darker and more sinister.

"What have you done to him?" Shadowhelm asked, glancing at the wolf.

"The same that I will do to you," Allarun smiled.

At that, Shadowhelm felt a burning sensation in his hands. He gasped in pain and nearly dropped Eihwaz. He closed his eyes and focused on the sword. The pain diminished and disappeared. He looked up to see Allarun watching him curiously.

Shadowhelm felt his temper rise. "Your paltry magic tricks won't work on me, demon spawn!" he snapped. "Do you think you could cow me so easily?"

Allarun smiled. "No, I didn’t think I could, Shara'kai." The Dark Lord walked around Shadowhelm, assessing the Shara'kai'sstrength. Shadowhelm followed him step-by-step, warily. "You’re more than meets the eye," he said. "You’re able to effectively resist my mental probes and even my power, and yet, it appears you have no apparent power. You can hear mindspeak, but cannot speak it. Your strength and speed exceeds anything Ansgar, Eleion, or Shara'kaiand yet, you’re nothing more than a mercenary warrior. You’ve slain dragons – more than once. And when I look into your eyes, I see the shadow of a man that I thought was dead. Perhaps I was hasty to believe that Romarin was the Lachlan."

Shadowhelm made no response. Allarun had some trick yet to play, but Shadowhelm was not sure what it might be.

Allarun tapped Hagalazagainst the floor. "Perhaps I was hasty," Allarun repeated to himself. He turned to Shadowhelm. "Who is your sire?"

Shadowhelm made no reply, but watched as Allarun's hands compulsively ran over the blade. He fears the Swords – even Hagalaz, his own blade. Why?

Another voice in his mind replied. Because even Hagalaz holds the key to his destruction. Lachlan forged the Sword of Disruption as well as the Sword of Defense and the Sword of Power.

Suddenly, Eihwazflew from Shadowhelm's hands and clattered to the floor next to the wolf. Allarun pointed Hagalazat Shadowhelm's throat. The Shara'kaiwinced as he felt the blade tip press against his flesh and stepped back. "Who is your sire?" Allarun demanded.

"I don’t know – I'm just a Shara'kaibastard," he replied, keeping his gaze steady.

"I see, my old enemy, you can be made to talk with the right persuasion," Allarun smirked. "Regardless, I must admit, you had me fooled. Your blood is much diminished."

Mad, Shadowhelm thought. He'll kill me because he thinks I'm the Lachlan.

Dead is dead, the voice within Shadowhelm's head agreed. Play along – you'll just antagonize Allarun if you continue to deny it. You might buy yourself some time distracting him long enough to get yourself closer to Eihwaz.

"Yes, I know, there isn't much Lochvaurblood in me," Shadowhelm spoke up. "My mother, they say, was only three quarters Eleion. As for my sire…" He shrugged.

"Rhyn'athel," Allarun spat. "Of course. A clever plan. I should’ve known." He pulled the blade away from the Shara'kai'sthroat.

"Known what?"

"Romarin was a decoy. I always thought the direct descendant of Elsonre would be the Lachlan. But, Romarin couldn't be the Lachlan, now could he? Not after losing his hand to Uruz."

"Losing his hand to Uruz?" Shadowhelm repeated puzzled.

"When you held Eihwazin the temple, you betrayed yourself," Allarun remarked. "Only the Lachlan or the first-blood of Elsonre can wield that blade. Just as only the Lachlan, my first-blood, or I can wield Hagalaz."

"What do you mean, losing his hand to Uruz?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Romarin lied to you," Allarun smirked. "Just as he lied to you about Eihwaz. Oh yes, I know what he told you – that it was Nevfaras' blade. Actually, I would’ve thought you’d have recognized the Sword for what it was when you drew it. Look at them both, Shara'kai– those blades are twins. One light; one dark. Look at the runes carved on them. Eihwaz– Hagalaz – they’re twin blades."

Shadowhelm gazed at Hagalazand wondered how he could've missed the obvious similarities. The two blades were sister blades – their style and marking were identical. Only Hagalazwas dark and Eihwazwas silver. Shadowhelm wondered what Uruzlooked like.

"Didn't you feel the power flow through you when you touched that blade? Didn’t it hold its own against Hagalaz? Didn’t it return you to the Darkling Plain? Ah, Lachlan, you were always the fool to trust those around you! Romarin knew the Sword too well. It must be painful for him to admit that a Shara'kaimercenary is the Lachlan incarnate."

He's lying, Shadowhelm thought as he shook his head as if to clear his mind of doubt. He stepped backwards again to avoid Hagalaz'sblade. Could there be truth in the demon's rantings? he wondered.

What do you believe? the voice inside his head asked.

I don't know, he replied.

"Where's Uruz?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Ask Romarin how he lost his hand," Allarun grinned evilly. "Yes. Romarin finally admitted that he knew where Uruz lay only because he was getting desperate. Romarin had hopes to still claim a sword, only he was too fearful to take Eihwazwhen you offered it to him. That gauntlet was a constant reminder of his failure – thanks to the wolf."

"Ni'yah?" Shadowhelm glanced at the wolf.

He is distracting you – focus on Hagalaz.

But is what Allarun says true?

"Your eyes betray your thoughts, old enemy. Romarin betrayed you because he can’t be what you already are. Poor Romarin – imagine being told since birth that he was the son of Rhyn'athel, destined for greatness. The Lachlan incarnate. Only to have his very essence ripped out from under him by a Shara'kai. So, you searched for the Sword, without knowing that Romarin knew where it was all the time. Pity that you trusted Romarin's friendship so deeply. You will pay once again with your life."

Shadowhelm felt a tickle on his arm. The Shara'kaiglanced down and saw the wolf touch his arm with its nose. Beside the wolf lay Eihwaz.

"Eihwaz!" Shadowhelm shouted and leapt back to avoid the swipe of Hagalazas it came crashing down. The Second Sword of Destiny leapt into Shadowhelm's hand and he parried the blow. The power of the Sword filled Shadowhelm and he yelled and charged forward, his silver eyes glowing red in anger. The next blow landed on the wolf's chains.

"Ni'yah! You meddler!" Allarun screamed in rage. He swung Hagalazat the wolf.

Ni'yah flashed a toothy grin and disappeared. Allarun turned his rage on Shadowhelm.

As the two blades clashed, Shadowhelm realized that Allarun had been right. Romarin knew more than he revealed. Shadowhelm could not explain the coincidences – there were too many of them. Romarin knew where Uruzlay – which meant Romarin had to have touched the Sword of Destiny.

His hand.

Romarin had lost his hand trying to wield it. The sword had not taken Romarin's life – because Romarin was a Swordwielder.

Only the wrong sword. Romarin's sword is Eihwaz.

Eihwaz sang in Shadowhelm's hands as though it recognized an old friend. If what Allarun said was true – and his words did hold a ring of truth – only Shadowhelm could handle both Swords.

The Swords chattered against each other as mortal enemies stayed locked in combat. Shadowhelm could feel Allarun's power – the Dark Lord's strength had grown since their last encounter. The sunken eyes and hollowed face were no more – they were replaced by the flesh of a stern, cold warrior.

Shadowhelm broke away, panting from exertion. He circled Allarun warily, looking for an advantage. Dark and light, they seemed to dance in the age-old struggle. Shadowhelm doubted his strength to continue this fight.

I need the Lachlan's power,Shadowhelm thought.

Allarun cannot use the full power of Hagalaz, said the voice. The power Allarun uses is dark and the Lachlan's power is the exact opposite. Use this to your advantage.

Allarun attacked. Shadowhelm backed away, parrying the blows. How? he asked the unseen voice.

Eihwaz, the voice said.

"Eihwaz," muttered Shadowhelm. "Protection – defense."

Fear filled Allarun's eyes and Shadowhelm realized that the power was there, if he could only call on it. Allarun began to hack wildly, trying desperately to distract Shadowhelm. But, Shadowhelm would not be deterred. He parried each blow. Defense. Protection.

Shadowhelm cleared his mind of rage. He would only defend himself now. That was the Sword’s power. Defense.

Defense.

At that moment, Allarun charged. His guard dropped as he swung Hagalaztowards Shadowhelm. Eihwazcut deep into the Dark Lord's arm, severing bone and sinew. Hagalazflew out of Allarun's hand.

Take Hagalaz now! the voice commanded. Leave!

"Hagalaz!" Shadowhelm shouted. The dark Sword flew into his left hand. Instinctively, Shadowhelm slammed the Swords together. In a blinding light, Shadowhelm vanished from the room.

###

Allarun cursed as he held his severed hand in the other. He closed his eyes and slowly the bones grew and joined each other, the tissue mended, and the skin closed over the wound. He opened his eyes, flexing his hand as the tendons and sinew rejoined.

"So, Lachlan, you reveal yourself at last. No matter. Find Uruz, if you can. It matters little. I will slay you without Hagalaz."

###

Defense and Disruption.

Order and Chaos.

One preserved – the other destroyed. And Uruzwas master of both.

Find Uruz and you will summon the Lachlan.

Shadowhelm laughed at the revelation. The concept was simple, really.

Shadowhelm stood with Swords crossed on the Darkling Plain before Romarin's army. He glowed from their power. All around him, soldiers stood in bewilderment and he held the two Swords aloft.

"Shadowhelm!" shouted Kalena, but he paid neither her nor Romarin any heed.

Shadowhelm laughed, filled with joy, for their power sang in his veins. He knew the truth at last. Shadowhelm knew he was the Lachlan.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Shadowhelm's gaze fell on Kalena as she stood with the other Eleion warriors who stared at the Shara'kaiin wonder. Shadowhelm sheathed Hagalazand thrust Eihwazpoint-first in the ground. He took her in his arms.

"I thought I lost you," Shadowhelm said, cupping her face in his hands. He ran his fingers through her flowing red-gold hair.

Kalena trembled at his touch and he kissed her gently. "They tell me you went to Sehduk's Keep again. I was certain you would die."

Shadowhelm grinned. "Allarun can't kill me that easily – not this time. I have Hagalaz," he said, resting his hand on the Sword of Destiny's hilt.

"Then, it's true – you arethe Lachlan," she said.

"Not quite yet. I have one last quest." Shadowhelm turned away and drew Eihwazonce more. His silver eyes studied the Sword of Defense and he turned to Romarin. Shadowhelm gripped Romarin's arm with his free hand. "You know what that is, my brother."

"I know," Romarin said, his eyes falling on Eihwaz. "Can you forgive me?"

Shadowhelm met his brother's gaze. "For what?"

"I have deceived you twice," Romarin said. "I knew the blade you wielded was Eihwaz. And all the time, I knew where Uruzlies."

"Then, what Allarun said was true." A silence ensued as he met Romarin's gaze. Shadowhelm shook his head. "The past is the past and even I have made foolish choices. Even if I had known where Uruzrests, the knowledge would have done little good. I would still have to have taken Hagalaz."

Romarin nodded, his eyes still on Eihwaz. Shadowhelm's eyes followed his half-brother's gaze. "This is your sword," Shadowhelm spoke, offering Eihwazto Romarin. "It’s been your sword all along."

"Yet, you’ve always been the first to wield it," Romarin said. "Sheath the sword, my brother, I’ll claim it when you claim Uruz."

Shadowhelm met his gaze. "Very well. Tomorrow then, we leave to find Uruz."

"You are the Shara'kaiwho is the son of Rhyn'athel," said Joreid, coming forward. "My people have long awaited your return, Lachlan."

"I am," Shadowhelm said. "And you are Joreid, Queen of the Haell. My Lady, both I and my brother are grateful for your loyalty." Shadowhelm turned to the army’s commanders. "Ten days hence, there’ll be a battle on these very plains. Allarun is beaten, but not defeated. Allarun will fight to end the Prophecy here and now."

Haegl strode forward in Eleionform. "My old friend," he said, clasping Shadowhelm's hand. "We were in this together at the beginning. I will take you to Uruz, if you wish."

Shadowhelm met the dragon's fiery gaze and nodded.

###

Night fell over the encampment. In spite of their recent victory, the warriors' mood was somber with the foretold impending battle. There was no feasting and little chatter as the warriors repaired their weapons and armor.

"I don't see why you are in a gloomy mood," Falar said as he sat with Romarin in his tent. "We won the battle with relatively light casualties."

"It’s not the battle," Romarin said. "It’s tomorrow that worries me."

"Shadowhelm is the Lachlan, isn't he?" Falar asked.

Romarin paused. "Yes, but what happens next is not so certain. I nearly died those many years ago when I touched Uruz."

"But you’re not the Lachlan," said Joreid. She entered the tent, her steady golden eyes met his gaze.

"Still, nothing is certain," Romarin said. "Shadowhelm may be the Lachlan, but he is not pureblood. There’s no guarantee what the Sword will do to him."

Joreid shook her head. "The future is tricky, even for those of us who have the Sight," she said. "Rest now."

###

In spite of his exhaustion, Shadowhelm slept fitfully, his mind haunted by dreams. Kalena lay beside him, her warm body pressed against his own. He ran his fingers through her red-gold hair, letting the cold moonlight catch a golden strand beneath his fingers.

"You can't sleep?" she asked, her voice drowsy.

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I dreamt of Darkling Plain again – this cursed field haunts my dreams now." He paused. "I've always been of two minds – disjointed, distracted – and since I drew Eihwaz, it has gotten worse. All my life, I’ve had another voice in my head – guiding me, pushing me forward towards something I couldn't explain. Now I realize that the other voice is Lachlan, and he’s growing stronger within me. His memories are my memories, and yet they’re not. I am still of two separate minds – Lachlan and Shadowhelm. Even with Eihwazand Hagalaz, I can’t resolve them."

Kalena kissed him. "Uruzmust the key."

"Perhaps," Shadowhelm said. "But what will become of the one known as Shadowhelm?" He shook his head. "Lachlan's life force is strong within me. I can feel it. But I, too, am strong, being the son of Rhyn'athel. I know Romarin feels it, too – I can sense another presence within him."

"What would you do?" she asked.

"I don’t know. Uruzis our only chance," Shadowhelm replied. "Only Lachlan can stop Allarun before he destroys what is left of our kind. Allarun knows now that I’m the Lachlan, and he will not rest until he kills every Ansgar, Eleion,and Shara'kai that stands in his way."

"I want to go with you," she said.

He met her gaze and kissed her. "No, my beloved," he said. "I need you here with the army. Romarin will go with me."

###

Dawn broke, red and swollen against the mountains. Shadowhelm stared into the glow as though trying to fathom Allarun's next move. He gripped Hagalaz, feeling the turmoil of raw power in the blade and let the dark blade’s power fill him. How unlike Eihwazthis blade was. Seductive. Dangerous. It had been in the hands of Allarun far too long.

Shadowhelm had already begun to hate the blade – wishing that Lachlan had never forged it. He could see himself in Allarun. Allarun was not more than a shadow version of himself. Yet, something deeper told him that he needed this sinister power almost as much as he needed Eihwaz.

Order and Chaos.

Light and Dark.

Uruz is the Key.

Haegl stood beside him. Shadowhelm did not need to look to feel the dragon's presence nearby. Romarin, too.

Haegl stood beside the Shara'kaiin his Eleion form. "Are you ready, old friend?" the dragon asked.

Shadowhelm met his gaze evenly. "I am," he said. "Do you know where Cara's grave lies?"

Haegl nodded solemnly. "Yes, Romarin told me."

Something within Romarin's eyes told Shadowhelm that the Lochvaur king was wrestling with his own identity as much the Shara'kaiwas. Shadowhelm smiled, but it was one of sympathy. "Let's finish this now," he said. "We’ve waited nearly a millenium for this."

Then Haegl transmuted and waited as both Romarin and Shadowhelm climbed onto his back. Without looking back, the dragon launched into the sky.

Chapter Fifty-Five

The dragon flew northwest until he reached the coast of the Northern Sea, far beyond the Northmen’s lands and the Tundra Steppes. The air was bitterly cold here, but the heat from the dragon kept Shadowhelm and Romarin warm. “I’ve never been this far,” Shadowhelm shouted, the wind tearing the words from his lips. “No one comes here – not even my people.”

Romarin glanced back. “Not even the hardy Shara’kai?”

“Why come to the waste when there are serviceable ports in the east?”

This far north, the ice had formed along the coastline; the sea was a glassy green where the ocean met the land. Here at the continent’s northwest tip, the coastland was rugged and foreboding with sharp cliffs that seemed to cut into the sky itself. Shadowhelm marveled at the beauty.

They followed the coast westward until they saw a spire of rock that jutted from the cliff face. It spun upwards to a point and caught the sun’s rays like a beacon against the blue sky.

"That’s not a natural formation," Shadowhelm said.

Romarin nodded. "It is the resting place of Cara, last of the Silren. Her son, Lachynvaur, laid her to rest here. It was there – in the runes that I learned Lachlan had an heir."

"My mother was Elina, daughter of Lachynvaur," Shadowhelm said. "Elina wanted to name me after her sire."

"The cycle is complete," Romarin said. "The heir of Elsonre and the heir of Lachlan have returned to end this cursed war." He paused. "Only, we are more than that."

###

Haegl landed along a small flat outcropping of rock near the spire. Rock-hewn stairs, slick with moss and brine, led their way from the outcropping to the spire. Below, the ocean roared as its waves crashed along the ice and the craggy rocks. Sea green and cold. Haegl transmuted and sniffed the breeze.

"The air is clean here," the dragon observed. "This place has not been defiled by Allarun."

"Nor would it," Romarin said. "For Ni'yah and I have kept this place secret for over a hundred years." He flexed his right hand and smiled. "That mischief maker knew all along."

"Not much escapes my watch," came a voice. Ni'yah stood at the entrance to the spire. "Except perhaps the trap that Allarun laid so carefully for me." The wolf paused. "It isn’t often that a god owes a life-debt to a mortal. You have my eternal gratitude, Shara'kai."

Shadowhelm grinned. "I might make you an Eleionyet," he said as he led the three towards the wolf.

The wolf led them into the crypt. Windows carved in the rock let light and air in, but there was no sign of decay, water, or even moss. The walls were hewn of white stone and mica – they glittered in the afternoon sun.

"This is an enchanted place," Shadowhelm said, breaking the silence.

"Uruzpower is great, even here," Romarin replied. They walked into the room where a single crypt lay. The perfect likeness of an Eleionprincess lay carved in white stone above the crypt. In the statue's hands lay a broken sword.

Uruz.

Shadowhelm bowed his head and turned away, filled with grief. Lachlan's intense love for Cara burned in his own mind now, and he closed his eyes. He sank to the floor, staring away from the grave. He felt Romarin's hand on his shoulder and looked up, tears and anger burning in his eyes. "It never had to be like this," he whispered. "By Rhyn'athel's blade! It never had to be this way."

Romarin offered his hand. "There are regrets we both face, my brother. It’s time for you to claim Uruzagain."

Shadowhelm stood up. He turned to face the crypt and the great sword that lay there.

Once you touch Uruz, your life will be forever changed, Ni'yah spoke in his mind.

Shadowhelm hesitated as he glanced at Romarin’s silver hand. He turned back to the shards of the broken sword and then turned and met Romarin's gaze.

For a moment, something flickered in Romarin's eyes. Grief? Regret? Shadowhelm did not know. But Shadowhelm knew that Uruz exacted a terrible price.

I was fortunate – it let me live,Romarin's voice spoke in his mind. You can stop this now, if you wish. No one will think ill of you.

Shadowhelm drew Eihwazand laid it next to Uruz. "We’re in this together, my brother," he said. "Whatever happens to me doesn’t matter. Claim Eihwazas your blade. Its power may be strong enough to keep Allarun at bay should I not…" His voice trailed off.

Romarin nodded in acknowledgement.

Shadowhelm turned back to Uruz. His eyes became fixed on the blade. It was a larger blade than either Eihwaz or Hagalaz, and had no adornment save runic writing across the hilt and blade. The blade was finely tempered adamantine.

The Sword of Lachlan. The Champion's Sword.

Are you afraid? the Dragon asked.

Shadowhelm did not answer. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Shadowhelm reached out and grasped the Sword of Destiny's hilt.

The metal hilt felt cool in his hand. His palm rubbed the hilt's braided ridges as he brought his other hand to grip the Sword more firmly. Even though it was broken in half, the half he held was heavy, even by Shadowhelm's standards. He opened his eyes to look on the Sword.

To Shadowhelm's surprise, Uruzwas whole again. Perhaps he was just becoming used to its weight, but it felt lighter, too. Shadowhelm turned to speak to Romarin and Haegl, but found them staring agape. He met Romarin's gaze.

What's happening? he wondered.

Romarin did not reply.

Shadowhelm's gaze rested on Uruzagain. A blue fire began in the middle of the blade and spread through the Sword. The Sword began to pulsate, white-hot, and its power spread down Shadowhelm's arms and through his body. He began to grown warm, and then hot. He heard himself cry out, but instead of dropping the Sword, he held on and gripped it tighter. He felt himself collapse and his consciousness spun deep into nothingness.

###

Shadowhelm awoke on the Darkling Plain, beneath the stars. He was lying on the ground – the grass beneath was stiff and frosted and the cold and dampness was already seeping into his clothing. The night wind rose and chattered about the dead grasses. Shadowhelm exhaled and watched as his breath curled upwards against the night's sky. It was winter and the three moons were almost at zenith.

He flexed his fingers and felt cold metal. He was still touching the Sword. "It's still here," he whispered.

"You have claimed Uruzat last, Shadowhelm."

Shadowhelm started and sat up. He winced as he did so – his head began to throb.

"I'm surprised you're conscious this quickly," the voice said. "You'll feel sick for a while. You've just been through the most powerful magic."

Shadowhelm looked around. A dark figure rose from the grasses and stood over him. The shape was Ansgaror Eleion, but Shadowhelm could not discern much more. Shadowhelm ran his hands through his hair, wishing that the headache would subside. "How long have I been…?"

"Not long," the creature said. "Though time really doesn't have any meaning in this place."

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"Who I waswould be more accurate."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "Your voice – it sounds so familiar."

"It should."

A silence ensued. Shadowhelm stared at the figure. "Lachlan."

The shadow-creature took form. An Eleionstood before Shadowhelm. He was a warrior who stood nearly six feet in height with a long, flowing, red-gold mane. His strength and presence reminded Shadowhelm of himself and of Romarin, but both were a pale reflection of this warrior. Yet, the warrior's face was the most startling. It was as though Shadowhelm looked into his own.

The warrior smiled. "Yes, Shadowhelm. I am Lachlan."

Chapter Fifty-Six

Romarin watched as in the fire of the sword engulfed Shadowhelm. Ni'yah nudged him once. "Claim Eihwaz, Romarin."

How could he explain his fear and hesitation? His right hand clenched compulsively as he stared at the silver blade. So alike was Eihwaz to Uruz that he shuddered looking on it. His hand, long gone, burned and blistered in his mind as he stared at Eihwaz.

You were meant to wield Eihwaz, Joreid's voice echoed in his mind. Claim the Sword of Destiny, Romarin.

Romarin shed the leather gauntlet from his left hand. He turned to Haegl. "I know not what it will do to me," he said and grasped it with his bare hand.

All at once, Romarin felt the fire leapt from Eihwazinto his body and he grasped the sword with both hands. I will wield this sword or I will die.

"Eihwaz!" Romarin cried out. He felt himself collapse and he fell unconscious.

###

Shadowhelm stood before Lachlan on Darkling Plain. The sky rumbled with thunder as the storm clouds continued to build and the wind swept along the grasses. The Shara'kaistared at the Lochvaurchampion, amazed at how alike they were. Perhaps it was not so amazing, he thought. After all, we are both sons of Rhyn'athel.

"The Sword brought me to you. To this place. The Darkling Plain," Shadowhelm said.

"This isn't Darkling Plain. Actually, this isn't really a place," Lachlan remarked. "It is a path between life and death. It is within your own mind."

"And you are in my mind as well?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Yes."

"How can that be?"

"It has been this way since you were born."

"The voice."

“Yes.” Lachlan turned and looked into the night's sky. “Most of it you've already guessed. But there is more. Follow me, and you will understand." He began walking away.

Shadowhelm stood up with Uruzin his hand. It gleamed from an inward fire. He looked around and saw that Lachlan was already a good hundred yards away. "Wait!" he called and started forward, but his legs were not working properly and he stumbled. Lachlan waited patiently as Shadowhelm caught up.

His silver eyes considered the Shara'kaithoughtfully. "For almost a millenium, I have awaited freedom from this half-life. I have been waiting for you."

"Why choose a Shara'kai? There was always Romarin – or a dozen other purebloods," Shadowhelm countered. "If anyone should lay claim to Uruz, it should be him. He is the direct descendant of Elsonre."

"But youare the last of my bloodline," Lachlan replied. "Romarin is the last of Elsonre’s heirs. You're not of Elsonre's line. Not even Elsonre knew that I had an heir. It was not until Romarin came here – to Cara's grave that anyone learned of the son she bore me."

Shadowhelm shook his head, remembering the overwhelming grief he had felt. Lachlan's grief.

"Yes. And you, Shadowhelm, are the last of my line and of the Silrenline."

"But the Silrenare gone. They died on the Battle of Darkling Plain along with most of the Eleion."

"Cara escaped – as you surmised. She fled the battle for she already knew she carried my son – a son who later learned his heritage."

A silence ensued. "What happens now?" Shadowhelm asked.

"You hold the key to my return," Lachlan replied.

"How?"

"We already share the same mind. Like Romarin, you, too, are a son of Rhyn'athel. He, too, has a choice – to accept his fate or deny it. It will be his choice alone. As it is your choice."

"Then I have had the power all along to defeat Allarun," Shadowhelm said. "The Swords then…"

“The Swords were the key to unleashing that power inside you,” Lachlan replied. “To restore the memories and the knowledge that I have. I am already you – you must allow yourself to accept who you really are. Alone, here and in half-life, I have no power other than to call you to this place. It is up to you to accept or reject what you truly are.”

“To become the Lachlan,” Shadowhelm mused. “But I am Shara'kai. I'm not a pureblood like Romarin.”

“That matters not – you are the last of my bloodline.”

"Suppose I refuse?"

Lachlan shrugged. "Then, Allarun is victorious. After your decision, I will never be able to return. The Prophecy ends here and now."

"But if Allarun wins, we’re all dead."

Lachlan made no reply, but Shadowhelm could feel the other's emotions slowly seep into his own. Mentally, he tried to distance himself from the Lachlan, but found he could not. How could he? He was the Lachlan. The Battle of Darkling Plain ran through his mind and the pain and betrayal flooded his own emotions. He stared into Lachlan's eyes and understood.

"You were with me all along," Shadowhelm said. "I could hear your voice – your thoughts in my mind. I knew who you were and yet, I didn’t."

"Yes," Lachlan said. "When you touched Eihwaz and later, Hagalaz, my link with you became stronger. The final test would be Uruz."

“I came here to find the Lachlan – to resolve that voice and emotions,” said Shadowhelm.

“You can refuse and I will no longer be with you. The voice will go away. You will have your life back, but you will not have my powers. Though I must say, you are powerful even for a son of Rhyn’athel.”

Shadowhelm sheathed Uruz. "I didn’t make this journey to turn back now," he said and reached out, gripping Lachlan's hands firmly in his own. "I have chosen. I am Lachlan."

As their eyes locked, Shadowhelm felt himself being drawn into the Lachlan and the Lachlan being drawn into himself. There were no longer two men, but merged into one. Shadowhelm/Lachlan drew Uruzand brandished it. The union of their two minds sent a shockwave through their body. "Ala ilne Lachlanel, ala ilne Elsonre, sil solwela entaya!" they said in the ancient tongue. The power filled them and they collapsed and fell unconscious.

###

Thunder shook Thalarmor to its core. Deep within Sehduk's keep, Allarun felt the shockwave rumble over the land.

"And so it has started, Lachlan," Allarun said. "It will bring me pleasure to send you to hell's gates myself."

###

Shadowhelm collapsed as the power of the sword consumed him. The sword clattered to the floor and he lay still.

"Is he alive?" Haegl asked, turning to Romarin, only to find the Lochvaurking unconscious as well. He turned to Ni'yah, who stood by impassively. "What happened?"

"They have made their choices," the wolf responded with a smile. "And Allarun now knows fear."

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Shadowhelm awoke on a cot in a walled tent. The cold mountain breeze flowed through the tent flaps. I am at the encampment. He sat up and inhaled the cold air slowly. I am alive again, said a part of his mind as he curled and uncurled the fingers of his right hand. Part of him – the Shadowhelm part –found the wonderment odd. The incongruity of the two personalities would take some time to mesh. Neither Shadowhelm's personality nor Lachlan's personality would dominate.

He listened for a while, but could hear little except the wind blowing against the tent flaps. You are Shara'kai – remember? Your hearing and eyesight will be less sharp, but your physical strength is greater. He sat up and stretched slowly.

Next to him lay the Uruz and Hagalaz. Shadowhelm picked Uruz up and felt the power of the Sword resonate within him. The Sword was quiet now – it had fulfilled its mission – but would be ready if Lachlan summoned its powers.

Shadowhelm gazed on Hagalazfor a long while. He recognized it as the darker side of himself – the side that much of his strength came from. Even as Lachlan, Shadowhelm knew he had never been comfortable accepting that dark power within him. Allarun was – in so many ways – the embodiment of that power.

You could not stop Allarun from becoming what he is, Shadowhelm said to himself.

Could I not have? Lachlan replied bitterly. It was my lack of foresight that brought us to the very brink of destruction.

There will be another Swordwielder who will take up Hagalaz again.

Beside him lay Romarin, deathly pale. As Shadowhelm had become Lachlan, so Romarin would now become Elsonre. That was the nature of the Swords of Destiny and the Prophecy. Shadowhelm guessed that the merge between Elsonre and Romarin's own personalities was more difficult. Romarin was several hundred years old – Shadowhelm had not lived as long nor was his personality incompatible with the Lachlan's.

Brother, I am with thee, he said in mindspeak. Romarin did not respond.

Voices nearby caught his attention. Shadowhelm paused and listened.

"How are they?" Haegl's voice came from somewhere outside the tent. By the sound of his voice, Shadowhelm guessed the dragon had assumed his Eleionform.

"They were still unconscious an hour ago," Laddel remarked. "I'm surprised they're even alive. Shadowhelm is doing better than Romarin, but he has the constitution of his Shara'kai lineage to aid him. Romarin is strong, but…" His voice trailed off.

"It has been five days since you returned with them, Haegl. We may lose both," Joreid said, her voice filled with sorrow. "Romarin won’t even respond to me." She paused. "But Romarin's hand – it's whole again."

"What does it all mean?" asked Kalena. "Is Shadowhelm the Lachlan? Or Romarin?"

There was a pause. "I don't know – the Prophecy doesn’t speak of a Shara'kai," Laddel said.

"But, they're alive," Haegl pressed. "And I heard Shadowhelm speak the ancient tongue before he collapsed. How would he know the ancient tongue?"

"He was a mercenary – he could have learned the words from anywhere…" Falar's voice drifted off as he entered the tent. Laddel, Joreid, Kalena, and Haegl stood beside Falar silently as they stared at Shadowhelm. Shadowhelm followed their eyes as they scanned the blade in Lachlan's hands and then finally the Shara'kai, himself. Shadowhelm slapped the flat of the blade against his left palm and gripped the Sword between both hands.

"It's lighter than I expected," he grinned.

Haegl turned to Laddel. As Shadowhelm had surmised, the Dragon had taken his Eleionform. "Can it be true?"

Laddel's expression hardened. "Who are you?"

"I am Lachlan," the Shara'kaireplied. "I am also Shadowhelm. I am the son of Rhyn'athel and High King of the Eleion."

"Then, the Prophecy is complete," said Joreid, her eyes not leaving Romarin's still form. "They say that Lachlan had the ability to heal. Can you do so now?"

Shadowhelm nodded. "But Romarin isn’t wounded," he said. "What holds him is what I’ve already accepted."

"But you can bring him back," Joreid insisted.

"I can, if he would will me to do so," Shadowhelm said.

Joreid met his gaze. I will you to do so. Prove to me, Shara'kai, that you are who you say you are.

Shadowhelm nodded. So strong is the bond between you. He stood up and sheathed Uruz. Shadowhelm held out his right hand palm up and concentrated. His hand began to glow with a blue fire. He pressed his hand on Romarin's forehead and closed his eyes. He could feel the turmoil within Romarin's mind.

Brother, why do you fight that which you have sought?

"Shadowhelm?" Romarin murmured. "Lachlan?"

Come, Romarin, accept that which you have sought your entire life. That which you risked your life to gain and that which you lost your hand doing so. You fight that which is already in you.

A silence ensued and Shadowhelm opened his eyes. "I have done what you have asked," he said. "Elsonre will awaken within the hour."

Color was returning to Romarin's face as Shadowhelm rose.

"Elsonre – or Romarin?" Joreid asked.

"Both," said Shadowhelm. "For just as I have always been both Shadowhelm and Lachlan, Romarin has always been Elsonre and Romarin." He spoke to Joreid, but his gaze met Kalena's. He paused. "We haven't much time – Allarun senses my return and will not delay long. Already, he gathers his forces to meet ours. This time, he will be prepared for the Swords."

"The Undead?" Laddel asked.

“Yes – and creatures far more dangerous," Shadowhelm replied. "Ready our people – a storm is coming.”

###

Romarin woke later that afternoon, trembling. In his dreams, he had been on Darkling Plain, fighting with a mirror image of himself. Shadowhelm had intervened – or was it the Lachlan? Romarin couldn't tell. Was it even a dream? Romarin could remember standing in the crypt, taking Eihwazin his hand, and the intense pain that followed.

Eihwaz.

His hand closed and found the Sword's hilt. But something was different. The touch. The feel. Romarin pulled his right hand away and looked at it. The gauntlet was gone – replaced by flesh and bone. His hand.

Romarin stared at his hand a while, flexing each finger. The pain – that must have been when the Sword restored his hand. Romarin lay his hand back on the Sword of Destiny. He could feel its draw – its power and the link to Lachlan. Yet, there was another presence within him – one that had been there all along, but one he had rejected when he failed to take Uruz.

Elsonre.

Even now, Elsonre's memories were merging with his own. Soon Romarin would become a blend of both men's personalities. Romarin marveled how Shadowhelm could have accepted it so readily, but part of him realized that Shadowhelm had always been Lachlan – he just never knew it.

Romarin closed his eyes. Lachlan has returned. Elsonre has returned. We will meet you again, Allarun, on Darkling Plain.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

The shadows grew long in the deepening twilight and Shadowhelm found himself walking through the encampment alone. The cold air of the Darkling Plain below filled his lungs as it had almost a millenium before. He knew that three days hence, he would meet Allarun again on that plain.

A part of him – the Shadowhelm part – feared little, even with the knowledge that the Lachlan gave him. He had met Allarun twice now and disarmed him. The Shara'kaihad been a better fighter than Lachlan, even though he had not known the dread power he possessed. Forced to live by fighting skills alone, Shadowhelm was a formidable opponent. Lachlan had marveled over the years at the Shara'kai'sdexterity and strength – something the Eleionbody had lacked.

Amazing, too, had been the Shara'kaidetermination. No Eleion, save those descendants of gods, had that fierce determination. It was that power that brought Shadowhelm strength even in the most dire circumstances. Shadowhelm had seen it in the Ansgarand the Shara'kai.

The first moon had risen over the Darkling Plain. Shadowhelm could still hear the voices of the dead, but he could now keep them at bay. He walked to the cliff overlooking the battlefield.

"I thought you might come here," came a voice.

Shadowhelm turned and saw Kalena standing there. He smiled. "You know me too well," he said, meeting her steady gaze.

"Do I?" she asked, wrapping the cloak around her against the cold.

Shadowhelm approached and drew her into his arms. "Of course you do," he said, kissing her gently. "Kalena, my beloved, this would never change my feelings for you."

She shivered and he drew his own cloak around them both. "But you loved another," she whispered.

Shadowhelm smiled. "Yes, I did," he admitted. "But that was a thousand years ago and she is gone. There is no power that can change that. Not even the power of the Lachlan." He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the red-gold waves against his callused skin. "Kalena, you would wound me more gravely than Allarun could ever, if you turned from me now. When this battle is over, assuming I still live, I would have none other as my consort."

Kalena turned to face him in wonder and he kissed her.

###

“You are much alike,” Joreid remarked, observing Shadowhelm and Kalena. She stood next to Romarin in the woods not far from the outcrop where Shadowhelm and Kalena stood.

Romarin smiled. “He is my brother,” he admitted. “We are bound both by Sword and by blood. How could it not be any other way?”

Joreid returned the smile. "He brought you back to me," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

Romarin grinned. "Shadowhelm probably was terrified of what you'd do to him if he didn't." They both laughed.

Joreid became grim. "Will he be able to defeat Allarun?"

Romarin shook his head. "He is Lachlan – but I don’t know."

"Lachlan was unable to kill Allarun a thousand years ago."

"Lachlan wasn’t a Shara'kaithen either," Romarin said. "Shadowhelm has met Allarun twice now and lived – once to save my life and once to take Hagalaz. Few can make that claim."

"He is the son of Rhyn'athel."

"So am I, and yet I sense a fiercer determination within him that no Eleionpossesses. He’ll destroy Allarun, even at the cost of his own life," Romarin said.

"May it never come to that," Joreid replied. She paused. "And what of Elsonre?"

Romarin smiled. "There is peace between us. Shadowhelm was right. I nearly rejected the very thing I sought after most of my life. How strange that when we are given what we ask for, we don't recognize the gift."

"And do you recognize it now?" Joreid asked.

"My lady, I have always recognized your gifts," he said wryly.

###

Darkness fell over Thalarmor. Vaurgar stared at the spires of Sehduk's Keep as he and Kyr rode into the castle.

Kyr looked at Vaurgar's countenance and for the first time saw fear in the Eltar'seyes. "What will he do?" Kyr asked tentatively.

"We may be lucky – he may just kill us," Vaurgar said grimly as he dismounted, handing his horse's reins to a slave. "Taryn brought the Shara'kaihere. The one who calls himself Shadowhelm is none other than the Lachlan. He took Hagalazfrom Allarun, himself."

"The Lachlan a mixed blood?" Kyr asked. "Is that possible?"

"You did not see him fight," Vaurgar said. "The blood of Rhyn'athel flows through that one's veins. The Yeth were able to take him by surprise – he would not allow a second chance, I think." Vaurgar led the Eltargeneral through the massive stone halls, lined in black onyx. The doors to Allarun's throne room swung open and Vaurgar entered with Kyr trailing behind.

Allarun sat on his dark throne, his chin resting on his fist as the two men approached. Vaurgar drew a sharp breath inward as he locked gazes with the Dark Lord.

"Why have you failed me?" Allarun asked.

Vaurgar stood still, his face a mask. "My lord, Elsonre wields Eihwazagain."

"Then, you lied to me," Allarun said, his voice filled with indifference as he studied the intricate carvings on the throne's arm. "You said that Eihwazwas lost to the River Carnon."

"My lord, that is what I thought…"

Allarun rose. "You think too much!" he snapped, his eyes glowing darkly. "If you were not of my blood, I would kill you for incompetence!"

"My lord, the Lachlan must have tricked me…"

"Silence!" Allarun roared.

Vaurgar fell silent, but met his sire's gaze. "Lachlan has returned."

A silence ensued. Allarun rose and rubbed his right hand where it had been severed and healed. "I know," he growled. "He took Hagalaz. Hagalaz! From me!"

"How is that possible?"

Allarun wheeled around. "Lachlan is stronger now – though how, I know not." He paused. "Elsonre has returned as well?"

Vaurgar nodded. "I think it likely. Romarin was able to destroy our legions of Undead."

Allarun laughed, but his laughter was cold. "So, it is as it was." He smiled. "Two days hence will be the thousand-year anniversary of Lachlan's death: the solstice. It will be then that Lachlan expects to kill me. Little does he realize that I, too, have grown in power."

"But he has Hagalaz…" Vaurgar objected.

"I don’t need Hagalazto kill him," Allarun snapped. "The Swords of Destiny were a simple trick to turn Lachlan's powers on himself. The fool fell for it all those many years ago."

"What of Elsonre?"

"Elsonre is not much more than a follower. Kill Lachlan and Elsonre is helpless – even with Eihwaz." Allarun turned. "Ready our troops. Two days hence, we will destroy Lachlan once more on Darkling Plain."

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Allarun returned to the Temple of Areyn Sehduk. He wore his dark armor and carried a razor-sharp knife in one hand. Chained to the altar with adamantine shackles lay a small firedrake of maybe twenty feet in length. It was not much more than a pup, really – its jaws bound with an adamantine muzzle and its fire nearly out. It lay miserably in the chains, its pathetic squeals were now soft whimpers. He would have use for it, in time…

Across the bloodstained altar lay Lila. She was naked, bound and gagged. She turned her head to the sound of Allarun's footfalls.

Fear.

Allarun could feel her terror and reveled in it. It had been a long time since he had tasted a demon’s fear and he had forgotten the sheer joy of it. He smiled as he approached the life-leech. Lila knew what would happen next.

"I hear that my soldiers captured you playing your same old tricks," he said. "Pity, even Lachlan rejected you. For a Shara'kai, he shows remarkable sense. Perhaps the thousand years have given him enough wisdom to deal with you."

Lila stared, her green eyes wide. My lord, haven't I served you faithfully?

"In a manner, I suppose," Allarun replied. "The way a fang serves an adder or a sword serves its master. Certainly one more pleasurable," he said, running the tips of his fingers along her breasts. "But like any tool, it has its limitations."

Lila shuddered. Please, have mercy, my lord.

Allarun laughed. "Mercy? You should have begged that from the Lachlan. Now, you will perform one final use."

Lila shuddered once as she felt the dark knife plunge into her heart.

###

Shadowhelm awoke, shivering in the cold air. He felt the earth tremble beneath him. The Shara'kaitook a deep breath. He still lay in his tent in the encampment. Kalena was still by his side. But, he could not shake the terrible vision he had just seen.

Kalena's hand touched his shoulder and he grasped it gently, feeling her warmth between his cold fingers. He, too, had felt the overwhelming fear and hopelessness within the dark wall's of the Temple of Death.

Kalena opened her silver eyes. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Allarun is forging another Sword of Power," Shadowhelm said.

Consternation showed in the Chi'lan'sface. "Are you certain?"

"As certain as I am Lachlan," he said. He stood up and slid his clothes on, pausing for a moment to draw Uruz. The Sword of Power glowed faintly in the dim light.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

Shadowhelm turned to her. "To speak with Romarin." He paused. "The Council is gathering. They, too, have felt Allarun's power."

###

Shadowhelm strode into the main tent. Romarin stood before him and the other nobles, Eihwazdrawn. "You felt it, too," Romarin said.

"How couldn’t I?" Shadowhelm said, glancing at the others in the tent. "Sheath your sword, my brother. The danger you feel will not come to pass for two days yet." Laddel, Joreid, Falar, Haegl, Ronan, Mic, Isen, Kelersil, Foxfire, and a dozen more nobles from Ansgar, Eleion, and Shara'kaiwere present. Kalena strode in wearing a simple tunic and breeches.

"What is it?" Falar said. "Most of us here do not have the Sight, but we all felt it."

"Tell me, what did you feel?" Shadowhelm asked.

"Dread. Terror. Fear." Falar shook his head. "Something terrible is happening if I can feel it."

"Yes – Allarun is forging his own Sword of Power."

The tent became silent and many exchanged fearful glances.

"Will he succeed?" Joreid asked

"That depends on whether or not he has found a dragon," Haegl replied.

"That, Allarun already has – a small firedrake," said Shadowhelm grimly. "He will destroy it to his own ends."

"You saw it then?" Laddel asked.

Shadowhelm nodded. "I don’t know how much those of you with the Sight saw, but I saw more than I ever wanted to. The tremor you felt was the death of the life-leech known as Lila. Allarun has already sacrificed her to increase his power. He would normally have to kill more than a hundred men to gain what he has from her." He shuddered. “If I had only known those many years ago what he was capable of.”

"You didn't," Romarin said. "No one did."

"No, many did, including yourself," Shadowhelm remarked. "I didn’t listen and it cost me my life. Now I have to set right that which I failed to see. The blood of the dead is on my hands because I trusted him as a brother. Now I pay for that trust."

"But the three Swords of Destiny have been reunited," said Joreid. "Their power is greater than anything even the gods can bring to bear."

"There are only two Swordwielders," observed Haegl. "Will that be enough?"

Shadowhelm shook his head. "I don't know. The Swords can work separately – we've seen that many times before, but I forged the Swords to work together – to amplify my power and the power of those who wield them. When Allarun used Hagalazagainst me, I didn’t know Allarun could use one sword against another as he had done. Still…" He paused. "I have used Eihwaz in just that fashion when I fought Allarun in the Temple."

"Can't you tell us if two Swordwielders are enough?" interrupted Falar.

Shadowhelm shrugged. "I am Lachlan and the son of Rhyn'athel, but that does not make me omnipotent or omniscient. Allarun has grown in power this millenium and is confident that I can’t kill him." He paused. "That remains to be seen."

"But there’s the Prophecy," said Romarin. "And so far, all you said has come to pass."

"Indeed, a death-curse is a powerful thing," said Shadowhelm. "And I am not without powers," he added with a wry smile. The nobles chuckled at the admission. "But the forging of a fourth Sword…" He shook his head. "It changes the balance."

A silence ensued. Shadowhelm paced, his hand on Uruz'shilt.

"It would be unthinkable that Allarun could be more powerful than you, Lachlan," said Kelersil.

Shadowhelm smiled grimly. "Allarun isa powerful adversary. He hastaken my life before."

"But due to treachery and deceit," Laddel said.

"And he’d use that again where he could," Shadowhelm said. "One thing is certain: he can’t be trusted, no matter if he swears on the blood of his ancestors. His word means naught to him." He glanced at his warriors and seeing that there was consensus, continued. "Allarun will not use the Undead now that he knows that we can destroy them. Nor can he use the fireworms or dragons. But Allarun has many more sinister demons at his disposal…"

The clarion sound of the watch-horn echoed across the ridge, interrupting him. Shadowhelm and Romarin drew their swords. "It's begun," Shadowhelm said.

Chapter Sixty

"Eltar! Eltar on the Darkling Plain!" the watchmen called out. The encampment became chaos as soldiers scrambled for their weapons. Shadowhelm stared into the Darkling Plain. The Eleionwho had called alarm had excellent eyes – in the night, Shadowhelm could barely see the dark line of soldiers stretch across the fields, shrouded in gloom.

"Wait!" he gripped Romarin's arm as the Lochvaur moved forward. "They’re allies, not foes."

Romarin met his gaze. "Are you certain of this, my brother?"

Shadowhelm's eyes began glassy for a moment. "Aye," he replied. "It is Taryn and his rebel Eltar. Two thousand strong."

"I’ll order the men not to fire unless fired upon," Romarin said.

###

Shadowhelm rode out to the front lines along the ridge, noting that his archers stood ready. Romarin rode his horse along the archers' lines towards Shadowhelm.

"They won't fire, but they use considerable restraint," Romarin said. "There’s much bad blood between Eltar and Haell. They don’t forget."

Joreid approached him, her golden eyes hardened.

"They are Soul-Eaters, Lachlan," she said. "Yet Romarin tells me that they are allies."

"How can that be?" asked Foxfire. "The Eltar are allies only of death."

Shadowhelm nodded. "Their leader is Taryn – the same Eltar who brought me to Sehduk's Keep to take Hagalaz," he said. "Not all Eltarserve Areyn Sehduk, Joreid. You willhold your fire."

"Didn't you say that Allarun is not to be trusted, even if he swears on his own blood, Lachlan?" Joreid said. "It seems you don't heed your own words."

Shadowhelm laughed and nodded. "Aye, I did say that," he said. "But fear not, HaellQueen, for I have seen this come to pass."

"Let us hope your Sight is correct," she said.

He grinned. "My lady, mark my words – the Ansgar, too, will join us and fight beside us ere long."

Joreid smiled wryly. "I hope you're right, Lachlan. If it were not for your brother, I might consider your cause foolhardy."

Shadowhelm turned to Romarin. "Then it is a good thing I have such staunch allies," he said with a grin. Something flashed within his eyes and he spurred the horse forward. "Cover me, my brother," he said and rode down the ridge towards the approaching army.

"What is Lachlan doing?" Joreid gasped. She turned to Romarin, who shook his head. "He will get himself killed and we haven't even met Allarun in battle."

"You ask me to tame the wind. He is my brother, but he is the Lachlan. I have no control over him."

Shadowhelm rode forward, drawing Uruz. He swung the sword above his head as he rode, calling upon the power of the great Sword of Destiny. "Taryn!" he shouted.

The Eltarhalted their march. One Eltarrode out. "Lachlan!" he shouted.

Shadowhelm rode forward, sheathing Uruz. He clasped Taryn's offered hand. “I’m glad you escaped Thalarmor.”

"It wasn't easy," Taryn admitted. "Many of us perished to come here. Allarun has hunted us down as traitors, and yet, he, himself, is the biggest traitor of the Eltar." Taryn drew his sword and held it out to Shadowhelm. "We are two thousand strong, Lachlan. Use us as you see fit."

Shadowhelm took the sword, brandished it for his army to see, and handed it back to Taryn. "I accept your offer, my friend."

###

Not far, Vaurgar and Kyr watched as Shadowhelm rode to meet Taryn. "Traitors!" Kyr growled as he watched Shadowhelm accept the sword from Taryn.

Vaurgar shrugged. "It matters not – they are but two thousand. We will put them to the sword when the time comes."

Kyr gazed at his leader. "When would that be?"

"Soon," he smiled. "But I have a duty for you to perform."

###

The sword was perfect. Allarun smiled as he ran his hand along its sharp, tempered edge. The adamantine held a dark sheen as it sliced into the Dark Lord's fingers and drew blood. Perfect. Allarun stepped over the spent body of the young firedrake and brought the sword down on the adamantine chains. The blade sliced through them with ease. The sword would cut through anything: sinew, bone, metal, stone. It might even cut though Uruz, Allarun mused.

Allarun held the still glowing blade and smiled. "Thurisaz," he said. "Demon Blade. Gateway." For indeed, it was a gateway, and he stood on its very threshold.

###

Dawn was breaking over Darkling Plain and already storm clouds were gathering from the north when Shadowhelm led the Eltarrebels into the army's encampment. The Haellparted as Shadowhelm rode at the head of the Eltarline. Joreid stood beside Romarin and watched. "I hope your brother knows what he’s doing."

"I think he does," Romarin said, gazing on the fierce Eltar warriors. "Lachlan wouldn’t make the same error in judgment twice – Shadowhelm would make certain of that."

Joreid considered him thoughtfully. "Then, who are we seeing? Shadowhelm or Lachlan?"

Romarin grinned. "Both, I think. He’s a powerful force that Allarun will have to reckon with."

"But Eltar?" she sighed. Joreid relaxed her bow and took the arrow from the string.

Another watch-horn sounded, and this time Shadowhelm turned, concern mirrored in his eyes. He scanned the plain and saw a lone rider coming towards them. "One of yours?" he asked.

Taryn gazed down the plain and shook his head. "That’s Kyr, commander of Vaurgar's forces."

Shadowhelm reined his horse and rode towards both Romarin and Joreid. "We have unwanted company," he said.

Joreid notched an arrow, letting it fly towards the rider. The arrow landed right at the horse's feet, causing the dark war-horse to sidestep nervously. "Come no farther, Eltar!" she shouted.

Kyr hesitated. "We wish for a parle – to discuss the terms of surrender!" he shouted.

"Your surrender?" Joreid said, a wry grin crossing her face. Romarin turned away, trying hard not to laugh.

"No," said Kyr. "The conditions by which you will surrender."

Joreid notched another arrow and let it fly. Again, it hit just below the horse's legs. "That was a warning, Soul-Eater," she replied. "The next will take your horse."

"I come here under the flag of truce," said Kyr. "You cannot hope to defeat Allarun's army. We are seventy thousand strong to your fifteen thousand. Lachlan or no, you are outnumbered."

"Could it be true? Seventy thousand?" Kalena whispered to Laddel.

Laddel nodded slowly. "Allarun could have that many."

Shadowhelm rode forward. "Aye, Allarun will, when he comes. But I have my own surprises for him."

"And what are your conditions?" Joreid said, pretending not to listen to the banter behind her.

Kyr smiled slightly. "Turn over both Lachlan and Elsonre and the three Swords of Destiny. The rest of you will be allowed to live."

Joreid glanced at Shadowhelm. "Your offer is an intriguing one," she shouted back.

Romarin grasped Joreid's arm, his eyes wide with fury. "What are you doing?" he hissed in her ear.

Joreid did not reply. Instead, she turned to Kyr. "Perhaps we can talk about this further."

Kyr grinned. "Perhaps we can." He rode closer.

Chapter Sixty-One

Thwang! In a blinding instant, Joreid let loose an arrow towards the Eltar. The arrow found its mark and buried itself into Kyr's shoulder. The Eltar general bellowed in pain and surprise. "You Haellbitch!" he roared. "You’ll be the first to be put to the sword!"

Joreid laughed. "Be gone, you demon spawn! Before you feel more of my arrows."

“You’ll die, every one of you!” Kyr shouted and rode off in a hail of arrows.

Joreid laughed until tears ran down her face.

"That was foolish," said Romarin, frowning.

"But quite necessary," said Shadowhelm. "We must show that we’re all of the same mind." He grinned. "But for a moment, you almost had me fooled."

Joreid wiped the tears away. "No doubt!" she said. She turned on Romarin. "Think my allegiance is so thin that I would ransom the Lachlan, himself? Or you, for that matter?"

Romarin was taken aback. "You were quite convincing," he stammered.

Joreid grinned. "Aye, that I was." She turned to Shadowhelm. "Lachlan, you had better have an answer to seventy-thousand when the battle unfolds. The Haellcannot survive a second slaughter."

Shadowhelm met her gaze. "I won’t let you down a second time."

###

"That Haellbitch!" Kyr snarled as a healer pulled the arrow from his shoulder. He sat in the physician's tent, his armor bloody from the shoulder wound. Vaurgar laughed. Kyr glared. "You sent me to parley!"

"You let your guard down, you stupid fool," Vaurgar said. "I would've shot you myself for that stupid act. This isn’t the same Lachlan whom Allarun killed on Darkling Plain a thousand years ago. The Shara'kaiis older, wiser. And, he’s a half-breed too – something none of us expected. Lachlan won’t be fooled so easily."

"But his blood is inferior," Kyr said.

"Perhaps," Vaurgar said. "But he’s still a son of Rhyn'athel and that makes him very dangerous. Very well, they don't trust us to parley – fine. I'll let you have the Haell bitch for your own pleasure." He paused with a smile. "After I'm done with her, of course." He stood up. "Allarun has forged his own sword of power, Thurisaz. He is coming with his legions to destroy what is left of the resistance. We’ll put an end to this nonsense once and for all."

Kyr nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps," he said under his breath.

###

The storm clouds gathered the next day. Shadowhelm rode among his troops in the bitter cold, his eyes ever watchful on the Darkling Plain. Snow fell in flurries, making the encampment that much more pensive.

Kelersil rode into camp. Leaping off his horse, he rushed into the main tent where Shadowhelm and Romarin sat, discussing strategies. "Allarun is here!" he said. "We saw his army on Darkling Plain – it is truly massive."

Kalena frowned. "How many would you estimate?"

Kelersil shook his head, pouring a hot cup of roosbois and drinking it. "I have never seen an army of this magnitude. It must be more than fifty-thousand."

Laddel glanced at Shadowhelm. "Then the Eltardidn't lie."

"I didn't think he did," Shadowhelm said. "More than half are demon-spawn. The rest are Eltar."

"More demon spawn," remarked Kelersil. He glanced at Taryn who sat silently in the corner. "Present company excepted, of course."

"Of course," Taryn growled, glaring for a moment at the Laddelwarrior. "But the Laddelspeaks true – Allarun's forces are intimidating. It will be a slaughter if you can’t stop them, Lachlan."

Shadowhelm met Taryn's gaze. "You came of your own free will, Taryn," he said. "If you or anyone here does not hold trust in me, leave now. I won’t tolerate those I can’t trust." He stalked out of the tent.

Romarin glared at the Eltar. "You speak foolishly," he snarled, following Shadowhelm out.

###

Shadowhelm strode through the camp, oblivious to the cold or snow. Only when he reached the edge of the Darkling Plain did he stop. He sat on the cold ground and stared over the fields, listening to the anguished voices of the spirits that died nearly a millenium before. Here and there, he thought he could hear a voice that he recognized and he focused to place each one.

"You will drive yourself mad if you listen to them too long."

Shadowhelm glanced up to see the great wolf looming over his shoulder. He smiled grimly. "I know. I like to be reminded of why I’m here."

The wolf paused and shook his head. "I don't think you could forget even if another thousand years passed. The wound is deep and burned into your very soul."

"They’ve no confidence in me," Shadowhelm said. "I can see it in their eyes."

"You have no confidence in yourself," Ni'yah corrected. "Five thousand or seventy thousand – it should not matter. You are Lachlan, a son of Rhyn'athel. You have the power to destroy Allarun."

"But Allarun's sword…"

"Is Uruzthe center of your power?"

Shadowhelm said nothing, but continued to stare out at the deepening clouds.

"Is it?" Ni'yah pressed.

"I don't know."

"You do know, only you won’t admit it – that is your Shara'kai side. You could throw that blade away and still defeat Allarun if you so chose. I sense that in you."

"You think so?"

"You were able to return without Uruz, didn't you? You knew you were Lachlan even before you took Uruzin your hands. Uruzis a focal point, but it never has had any real power beyond what you gave it," Ni'yah said. "Allarun will depend on that sword and nothing else."

Shadowhelm shook his head. "But what of our numbers? Ten thousand against seventy-thousand."

“You’ll have the numbers you will need – if you call on them,” the wolf-god said. “Allarun doesn't realize what he did when he used Hagalazagainst you in the Battle of Darkling Plain. You do.” He paused with a knowing look. “And now, you have Hagalaz. Hagalaz is the key.”

Shadowhelm met his gaze. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am Athel’cen.” The wolf paused. “Go now, Lachlan, your brother searches for you and your warriors need your confidence. You’ve injured them gravely for they would give their lives for you.”

Shadowhelm reached out and placed his hand on the wolf's fur, digging his cold fingers into the ruff. "Thank you, my friend."

Ni'yah grinned and vanished. I will be beside you on the battlefield tomorrow.

Shadowhelm rose, his hand instinctively touching Uruz'spommel. He focused on Allarun's army camped miles away and smiled. And he knew that Ni'yah was right.

###

"Lachlan!" Romarin said when he saw Shadowhelm enter the camp. Romarin studied his brother's expression quizzically. "Are you all right?"

Shadowhelm grinned. "Yes, my brother," he said. "I know what I have to do."

Chapter Sixty-Two

Allarun stared at the sun as its first rays shed their blood-red glow over Darkling Plain and smiled. One again, Lachlan, we meet at the solstice, he thought. As it was before, so it shall be again. You shall die by my sword.

Behind him stood his legions. Eltarand demons stood ready, awaiting his command. Nothing, not the Lachlan, certainly, could destroy this army. They marched behind him as he rode forward in his dark armor.

The demons – the heath-stalkers – were hideous man-sized creatures with sallow skin and yellow, glowing eyes. They held swords in their claws as they marched ahead, their sharp teeth clicked in anticipation of rending Eleion, Shara'kai, and Ansgarflesh. Dark arch-demons strode beside them; their heads, wings and legs were that of raptors, their bodies of men, and their tails were of dragons. Their dark eyes glowed in the anticipation of the coming battle.

Allarun's banner flew overhead displaying the black sword on a crimson background. Following him were cavalry, longbow men, and lastly, infantry. Vaurgar smiled as he rode beside the Dark Lord, confident in their powers.

Allarun's army was an enormous wave of crimson and black. Along the edge of the Darkling Plain, Allarun could see the glint of steel from Lachlan's army as it waited for him. Lachlan would not leave the defensive heights above the plain just yet, but the enormity of the Dark Lord's army would make the difference once the true hand-to-hand battle started.

"How many does he have?" Allarun asked. "Ten thousand, maybe?"

"We have seven times that," Vaurgar replied. "It matters not that he has longbow men. It will be a slaughter, just as it was a thousand years ago."

"Lachlan will challenge me to individual combat," Allarun said. "He knows his army can't overcome us so he hopes to win the day by defeating me."

Vaurgar laughed. "He would? Are you certain?"

"I know my old enemy well," Allarun replied. "This is Darkling Plain and Lachlan has a score to settle with me even now."

"But what of the Prophecy?" Vaurgar asked.

"What of it?" Allarun said in a dismissive tone. "So, he returns in the body of a half-blood. Lachlan is still my same old adversary – his ways have not changed in a thousand years."

"Perhaps," said Vaurgar. "He did disarm you – twice."

Allarun's gaze hardened and Vaurgar hesitated. “Lachlan is more powerful,” Allarun said softly. “But it matters little, for I have grown in power as well." He paused. "I have a plan for dealing with Lachlan's army.”

###

Lachlan sat on his gray stallion, staring into the darkening sky. He sat fully armored, wearing both Uruzand Hagalaz at his side. Behind him marched his troops of cavalry and longbow men. The sun's rays had brought him cold comfort, but he gazed into the plains below with a fierce determination. Overhead, his banner unfurled – a black dragon rampant on a field of red and gold.

He had made peace within himself. Still of two minds, and yet, Shadowhelm accepted who he truly was: Lachlan. He would always be Shadowhelm as he was always Lachlan, but now he would take the name that was rightfully his, just as Romarin would become Elsonre. Neither side of him would dominate and would eventually merge into a single personality.

"It is good to see your colors flying again," remarked Haegl, still in Eleionform.

Lachlan smiled. "And it is good to have you by my side, old friend," he said. "You know what to do."

The dragon nodded and transmuted into his giant form. He launched into the sky and disappeared over the Darkling Plain.

"I hope you’re right about this, brother," Elsonre said.

Lachlan grinned. "And if I’m not, I’ve died before."

Elsonre shook his head and laughed. "At least we will die together this time."

Kalena stared at them both. "You make light of what is very serious."

"A serious matter indeed," said Lachlan. He smiled. "Be careful, beloved. I would not wish to lose you yet again."

Kalena drew her sword. "My lord, you don’t lose me so easily."

Before them, Allarun's army stretched across the plains. Lachlan glanced at his brother and then signaled his army to wait while they were still out of bow range.

###

"What is he doing?" Vaurgar asked, watching as Lachlan rode towards the army. Elsonre followed a few horse lengths behind.

Allarun smiled. "Of course," he said, raising his hand. The army halted. "Darkling Plain all over again, is it, my foolish enemy?" Allarun drew Thurisazand rode forward.

Lachlan stopped and waited until Allarun rode up. "At last, the Prophecy comes full circle," Lachlan said. "We meet once more on Darkling Plain."

“You’re a fool, Lachlan, you always were," Allarun sneered. "For I have forged my own sword, Thurisaz."

"I know," said Lachlan. "Let us settle this now; on this very field where I died so long ago. Just you and me."

"What of Elsonre?" said Allarun, glancing at the Lochvaur king who sat on his horse a few lengths back.

"Elsonre was with me then; he stands by me now," Lachlan said. "You may have Vaurgar beside you, if you desire."

Allarun grinned. "No tricks?"

Lachlan shook his head. "I swear by Rhyn'athel's blood that flows in my veins, there will be no deception on my part."

Allarun turned and glanced at Vaurgar knowingly. Vaurgar nodded.

"As you wish," Lachlan said. Both dismounted. Lachlan handed his reins to Elsonre. “No matter what happens to me, you’re to lead the army if I should fail,” he whispered.

“What about Vaurgar?” Elsonre asked, looking across at the Eltar.

“Do as I say,” Lachlan replied. He drew Hagalazand thrust the Sword of Disruption into the ground point first. The blade flashed and sent a shockwave over the land, its blue fire spreading out as a wave over Darkling Plain. The horses reared.

Allarun glared. "You said there would be no deception."

"And there won't be," Lachlan said, drawing Uruz. "Or have you grown weak in the thousand years since my death?"

The goad was too much. Allarun leapt at Lachlan, swinging the dark blade. Lachlan parried and sparks flew as the adamantine blades clashed. Another lunge and Lachlan evaded the dark blade as it came crashing down. Lachlan attacked, forcing Allarun to fight close-quartered, parrying each blow from Uruz. The flames danced between the swords and Lachlan leapt back as Allarun swung Thurisaz.

They broke apart and Lachlan circled – his Shara'kaimind looking for any opening. Allarun's power had grown; Lachlan was certain it was from the life-leech. The dark sword was powerful, too, Lachlan could feel the shock of its energy each time Uruzclashed with the sword.

One cut of that blade and I am very dead.

You have faced Allarun before. Look for his weakness.

###

Elsonre met Vaurgar's gaze. He and the Eltarhad stationed themselves at across from each other as the kings fought. "You would have your master fight your battles for you, Soul-Eater?" the Lochvaurking taunted.

Vaurgar grinned and turned to Kyr. "Send the cavalry to outflank the Eleion," he whispered. "They’ll be too preoccupied with the fight to see us and then, it’ll be too late."

"What about you?" Kyr asked, glancing at Elsonre.

"Pureblood against pureblood. I owe him for the last battle," he said. "Take their flank – this should be a rout."

Kyr grinned. "I will, my lord," he said and rode off.

###

Vaurgar rode towards Elsonre. "I accept your challenge," he said, beginning to dismount. Elsonre dismounted from his horse and stood ready. At that moment, Vaurgar leapt back into the saddle and spurred it forward.

"Elsonre!" Joreid yelled and loosed an arrow. The clothyard shaft sailed straight into Vaurgar's stallion. Vaurgar leapt off as the horse collapsed. The arrow's force was so great, it slammed the horse into the ground, pinning it. Vaurgar glared, raising his arm to order a charge. "Don't!" shouted Joreid. "Unless you want to die." She aimed the arrow at his chest. "No treachery, demon-spawn."

"Haellbitch!" Vaurgar spat, drawing his sword.

Elsonre grinned, drawing Eihwaz. "I can't control her," he said. He lunged and swung Eihwaz. Vaurgar parried the blow and countered. They were evenly matched in height, but Elsonre was of sturdier build and heavier. He swung Eihwazone-handed; sending sparks as it clashed against Vaurgar's blade. Vaurgar went on the offensive, attacking viciously. Elsonre retreated against the onslaught.

Vaurgar lunged and Elsonre brought Eihwazup to parry. The blades chattered as they locked against each other. Elsonre leaned his weight into the locked blades. Vaurgar stepped aside and allowed Elsonre's strength to follow through and unbalance him. Whirling around, Vaurgar cut deep into Elsonre's armor.

Elsonre fell on one knee, blood seeping from the wound. Vaurgar strode over, victorious. "Don't worry, Lochvaur, it'll be a clean kill. You fought bravely."

Chapter Sixty-Three

Lachlan circled, looking for a weakness in Allarun's guard. He feinted, trying to draw Allarun in. The Dark Lord circled warily, eyeing the Shara'kai. "You were always a fool, Lachlan," Allarun said. "Always trusting; always noble. That’s what is wrong with you – you could have been great. You could have joined me as a brother and served Areyn Sehduk." He lunged and attacked.

Lachlan laughed as he parried and countered. Uruz'sblade cut into Allarun's armor and raked the Dark Lord's arm. "And become like you? A dark lord who exists in twilight – using others lives to maintain your very existence?"

Allarun snarled and lunged. Lachlan parried late and Thurisaz brushed his face, reopening the cut from the Yeth Hounds. The pain sent a shockwave through him and Lachlan grimaced knowing now he would not live through a full blow. At that moment, he decided to chance it. Lachlan caught Thurisazunder Uruz's blade. Allarun twisted at the same time and both swords flew out of their hands.

###

Kyr led ten thousand of Eltarcavalry away from Darkling Plain and into the cliffs along its edge. Another officer, a captain named Dakar, rode beside the Eltargeneral on his bay stallion. "Won't they notice our movement?" Dakar asked.

Kyr shook his head. "I doubt it. Ten thousand out of seventy thousand. Our numbers would seem overwhelming."

"Perhaps," Dakar said. "The sky is growing darker and the wind is picking up. It does not bode well."

Kyr chuckled. "Our army is too massive, Dakar. Even with dragons and longbows, they can't hope to win."

They rode up the rocky gulch, swords brandished, a steady tide of cavalry. Ahead, Kyr could see the flank of Lachlan's army as they watched the fight below.

This will be too easy, Kyr thought.

###

Seeing both himself and Allarun disarmed, Lachlan laughed. "I was wondering when you'd figure out that little trick," he said. "I thought you might get tired of it."

"We are both unarmed," Allarun said, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. He backed up, fear glowing in his eyes.

Lachlan laughed again. "You don't expect me to fall for that a second time," he said, his silver eyes flickering briefly behind the Dark Lord.

Allarun lunged for Hagalaz.

"Uruz!" Lachlan shouted and the Sword of Destiny flew into his hands. Lachlan parried the blow as Allarun slammed Hagalazdown on him.

###

Kelersil and a small group of archers rode among the foot soldiers and what few cavalry the Eleionhad at the flank. The Laddelwarrior watched the combat with interest, but knew why Lachlan ordered him to return to the flank to protect the army. As he and the archers took their positions, Kelersil saw the Eltarcavalry crest the hill and bear down on them.

"Treachery!" he shouted. "Archers fire!"

The longbow men barely had time to notch their arrows before the cavalry met them. Kelersil blew the battle-horn at his side, sounding the alarm. Drawing his sword, he turned and met the onslaught.

###

The clarion call of the battle-horn rang over the valley. It fell silent as screams came from the behind Lachlan's army. Vaurgar paused. Elsonre spun around slamming Eihwazinto the Eltar. The sword bit deep, but Vaurgar's plate mail held. The son of Allarun screamed and attacked again.

"Fire!" Elsonre heard Joreid shout.

"Attack!" Vaurgar screamed, pulling himself away from the fight. His hand gripped his wound as he stumbled backwards towards his army. The Eltarand demons charged.

A storm of arrows flew from Haelland Laddel bows on the charging troops. Elsonre did not turn back. Instead, he leapt onto his horse and rode forward, swinging Eihwaz.

###

Allarun grinned. "Right now, your army is being slaughtered." He slammed Hagalazinto Uruz, drawing on the power of the Sword. Uruzshuddered under Hagalazand for a brief moment, Lachlan thought that Uruzmight shatter again under the blow. But the Sword of Destiny held, and Lachlan used his strength to push forward against Allarun's attack.

They broke off and circled, each trying to assess the other's weakness. Allarun was taller and thereby had a height advantage, but the Shara'kaiwas quicker and a better fighter. Lachlan charged, hoping to get close enough to strike. Allarun swung Hagalazand the Sword of Disruption cut through chainmail and into his arm.

White-hot pain exploded inside Lachlan's head and he yelled, slashing Uruzinto the Dark Lord. Uruzraked across Allarun's leg, drawing blood. They separated and Allarun backed up, limping. Lachlan glanced at his own wounded left arm – the chainmail hadn't done much good and he could feel the bones slide. He could heal it, if he had time to concentrate, but otherwise it was almost useless.

Over the wild din, another horn resonated across the valley. Lachlan paused. "The Ansgar! The Ansgar!" Lachlan shouted.

Over the ridge rode the Northmen led by Einar. "Lachlan! Lachlan!" the Northmen chanted, wielding their swords in the fray. Two thousand warriors joined the battle.

"You are still outnumbered, Shara'kai," Allarun grinned. "And I still have Hagalaz." He swung the Sword again and Lachlan parried.

"Yes, but something is wrong, isn't there, my old enemy?" Lachlan goaded as he parried each blow. "I don't see the great power of Areyn Sehduk's son." He attacked, forcing Allarun to limp backwards.

"What have you done to Hagalaz?"

"Nothing," said Lachlan. "You just can't turn its power on me anymore."

Screams from the army interrupted them. Lachlan grinned. "Haegl," he said. "Right now your cavalry is dragon fodder."

Allarun's gaze flashed to where Thurisazlay and paid for it with another wound. "Dragons or no, my army will have your hide."

"Really?" Lachlan said. As he spoke, another battle-horn echoed across the fields.

Now the fighting paused. Allarun broke away and turned to see an Eleion army standing on one of the hills, overlooking the battlefield.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Kalena stood, staring at the Eleionwarriors on the hill. "By the gods, who are they?"

Laddel paused and searched where she stared. "It cannot be," he whispered.

"What is it?" Kelersil said.

"It is the kindreds – the very same that died here on Darkling Plain."

Joreid stared. "How is that possible?"

Laddel shook his head. "I do not know," he said.

"The Lachlan!" Taryn laughed. "The Lachlan has returned!"

###

Allarun was filled with dread. "What manner of trickery is this, Lachlan?"

"No tricks," Lachlan said. "What you see has always been here."

Allarun looked on the army. "They are all Eleion– there must be thousands of them."

"Over a hundred thousand," Lachlan agreed. "Don't you recognize them?" Allarun shook his head. "These are the warriors who fought for me on Darkling Plain one thousand years ago."

Allarun parried as Lachlan renewed his attack. "You can’t raise the dead," he said. "Not even Rhyn'athel can wrest the souls from Areyn."

"I didn’t have to. Those that died here were never truly dead. They lingered in that hellish half-life I suffered for nearly a millenium, thanks to you and Hagalaz," Lachlan said. "When you turned that Sword on me, you had no idea what you set in motion. Every warrior who fought for me and died on Darkling Plain was forced into the half-life and subsequently bound to me when I uttered that death curse. They’ve waited all these years for me to bring them back or end their suffering. Hagalaz did the rest." Lachlan paused and smiled wryly. "If you had killed me with anything other than Hagalaz, if you had failed to shatter Uruz, if I had not uttered the death curse, you and I would not be standing here now."

"Lachlan! Lachlan!" the cry echoed over the Darkling Plain as the Eleioncharged the demon ranks. Allarun's army broke ranks and the retreat turned into a rout.

Allarun fought more desperately now, wielding Hagalazin a flurry of attacks. Lachlan parried each blow. Allarun made a lunge for Thurisaz, but Lachlan was faster. Uruzplunged deep into Allarun's chest.

Allarun stood for a brief moment in shock as he felt the life force drain from his body. He opened his lips to move in a single curse. Lachlan pulled the great sword from Allarun's body and whirled around, cutting off Allarun's head. His body crumpled and collapsed, turning into a foul-smelling dust as the wind cut across those barren plains.

###

A wail rose across Darkling Plain and Vaurgar watched as the demons disintegrated. Kyr rode back, bloody and ragged. "My lord! You must sound a retreat at once!"

"What happened?" Vaurgar glared. At that moment, Haegl's and the other dragons' forms filled the sky. The black dragon swooped down on them and Vaurgar leapt up behind Kyr. Kyr spurred his horse as fast as the creature would run.

###

Kalena grasped a horse's reins and leapt to its back. She turned it around to the others. "Follow me!" she shouted, brandishing her blade. "For the Lachlan!"

"Lachlan! Lachlan!" the army shouted, following Kalena into a charge against the retreated Eltar.

###

Lachlan sheathed Uruzand picked up Hagalazfrom where Allarun had dropped it. "Once again, you proved to be the deciding blade," Lachlan said to it. "It makes one wonder which is truly the more powerful sword." He sheathed the blade in the second scabbard. Lachlan paused and touched the wound on his arm, feeling the bones knit and skin heal.

Elsonre rode forward, Eihwazslick with their enemies' blood. "You never needed me," he said.

Lachlan looked around. Everywhere, Eleion, Shara'kai, and Ansgarstood victorious. Piles of Eltarand demon bodies lay across the battlefield. Lachlan strode over to Thurisaz and much to Elsonre's amazement, picked it up.

"It doesn’t harm you?" Elsonre marveled.

"It can't," Lachlan said. "Its master is truly dead." At that, Lachlan snapped the adamantine blade as though it were a piece of kindling. The blade crumbled in his hands and blew across the Darkling Plain. He turned and accepted Elsonre's proffered hand and leapt on the horse's back behind Elsonre. Lachlan drew Uruz once more. "Let's find our people – the battle is over."

###

Lachlan and Elsonre rode through the battlefield until they reached the front lines of the Eleiontroops. There, Lachlan recognized a Lochvaurwarrior.

"Haellsil, my half-brother!" Lachlan said, dismounting from Elsonre's horse.

A warrior turned around as a healer bandaged his wounds. "Lachlan!" he said, his eyes burning bright. "You have come for us at last!"

Lachlan gripped his half-brother's good hand. "At last, we have defeated the demon."

"I thought the Shara'kaiwould never figure it out," said another voice.

Lachlan turned. "Silvain," he said, meeting the ice-blue gaze of the Silrenking.

"My daughter is not here," he said.

Lachlan nodded with a weary expression. "There are things that are even beyond my power," he said sadly. "She did not die on Darkling Plain."

Silvain nodded. "Perhaps it is for the best," he said. He paused and considered the Shara'kai. "I was wrong about you, Son of Rhyn'athel."

Lachlan nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing.

Elsonre watched the exchange. "Cold comfort for a man who has lost so much," he growled.

"Peace, brother," Lachlan said, meeting Elsonre's gaze. "We have all suffered far too long." He turned to leave, when warriors rode into view. Lachlan's gaze was fixed on only one of them. "Kalena," he murmured.

Kalena dismounted and he took her into his arms. "Lachlan!" she said as he held her for a long time. "We have all suffered far too long," he repeated and he kissed her.

Chapter Sixty-Five

Epilogue

The stars glowed unusually bright overhead the night of the coronation. Though Lachlan insisted that he was no ruler and had no temperament for the day-to-day running of a kingdom – Elsonre he felt was better suited – Lachlan was crowned High King over the Eleion, Shara'kai, and Ansgar. Elsonre was crowned king of the Lochvaur. They held the ceremonies in Laddel's fortress in the great forest.

Lachlan endured the celebrations as long as he could, but found himself outside the great Laddelfortress, walking among the trees. Laughter and song filled the normally silent forest and he listened to the joyous melody as he stared into the expansive firmament.

"These forests have not heard such celebrations in over a thousand years."

Lachlan grinned and turned to the speaker: an Eleionwith silver and agouti hair and brass-colored eyes. The warrior wore silver mail and a wolf-cloak. "I was wondering when I would see you again in your Eleionform, Ni'yah," Lachlan remarked. "It has been many years."

"Indeed, for it has been many years since I dared use this form," Ni'yah said. "Allarun's reign was not just difficult for your kind, but also for the gods of light."

"A thousand years of death and destruction," Lachlan mused. "Why Ni'yah? Rhyn'athel could have done something."

"He did," the wolf-god said. "He sent you."

"A second chance?"

"You were given more than any of the children of the gods."

"Why?"

"Because of all, you alone held the power to restore the balance between good and evil. Rhyn'athel saw this. Elisila saw this." He paused. "I saw this."

"I could've failed yet again, my friend," Lachlan said, shaking his head. "I came very close this time."

"I know, but I was with you all along. As I said I would be."

"Not all of Areyn's spawn is gone from this world," Lachlan said. "Vaurgar is still alive."

Ni'yah shrugged. "Such is the battle between good and evil. There will always be evil, but there will always be a champion of good." He gripped Lachlan's shoulder. "Come, my friend, be not gloomy on this day of your triumph. You have defeated the greatest evil known on this world."

"I suppose you’re right."

"Besides," said Ni'yah with a grin. "I, for one, have acquired a particular fondness for both Eleionhoney-wine and women."

Lachlan raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think we've had enough problems with godlings?"

Ni'yah grinned again. "I'm a meddler, you know that. Besides, who better than a son of Ni'yah to keep your own son in line?"

Lachlan paused and then laughed as the statement made its full impact. "You rogue!" he said. "Aye, I suppose you're right." He followed the wolf back to the celebrations.

The End

Prophecy of Swords Glossary to People, Places, and Things

Adamantine – An ore when tempered is stronger than the hardest substance. Has magical properties as well. Scarce in Elren, it exists primarily in Athelrenalthough there are ore deposits in Tarentor.

Allarun – often referred to as “the Dark Lord,” he is the son of Areyn Sehduk, the god of death and destruction.

Ansgar– a younger race, less warlike but shorter lived than Eleion

Areyn Sehduk – God of death and destruction. One of the gods of darkness and an Athel’cen, a greater god.

Athel’cen – Three gods who were born from the Wyrd. Considered the most power of the gods.

Athelren– World of the gods

Battle of Darkling Plain – The battle where Lachlan was killed by Allarun.

Bryanna – Mother of Joreid.

Caer Lachlanel – Lachlan’s own city and fortress, long since abandoned.

Caer Ladren – Fortress of the Laddel.

Caer Llaen – a small city-state under control of Allarun.

Caer Sithar – Last free city-state in the north, not under Allarun’s dominion.

Cara – Daughter of Silvain. Betrothed to Lachlan.

Charun – a boarding house in the Merchant Quarter of Caer Sithar

Chi’lan – Lochvaurwarriors (usually, but may be any kindred) dedicated to fighting for Rhyn’athel.

Citadel Heights – See Caer Sithar.

Clothyard shaft – an arrow shaft used with a longbow. These arrows are a yard long and as thick as a man’s finger.

Daimhan – Shara’kaihealer.

Darkling Plain – a large plain that stretches from the Lochvaren Mountains in the Northwest to the forests of Thalarmor in the east to the in the Rolling Hills and the Shadow Mountains in the west, to the caves of the Haelland the Laddel forest in the south. Used as a battle plain for more than one war.

Demons – Are more or less twisted creations of Areyn Sehduk designed to carry out his orders. Unlike Eleion and Ansgar, they have no life-force beyond their bodies, but have no concept or fear of death. They can’t be reasoned with nor do they have a free will. They do their master’s bidding and their emotions mirror the dark emotions of Areyn Sehduk. There are many types of demons, but the ones that the Eleion recognize are the Heath-stalkers (lesser demons), Yeth Hounds, life-leeches, and Arch-demons.

Eachan – Shara’kaimercenary.

Eihwaz – Sword of Defense, Lachlan gave the sword to his twin brother, Elsonre, to wield.

Einar – Foster father of Shadowhelm.

Eleion – a race of people with long lives, but still mortal, who are the descendants of the gods.

Elesil – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Tall with silver hair and silver eyes. Descendants of the goddess Elisila.

Elina – Mother of Shadowhelm.

Elisila– goddess of the heavens

Elren– Land of the Living

Elsonre – Twin brother to Lachlan.

Eltar – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Tall with black hair and black eyes. Descendants of Areyn Sehduk and Fala.

Fala– goddess of the earth and darkness, associated with night. The winged goddess.

Falar – Redelprince and friend of Romarin.

Falarel – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Tall with black and silver hair and silver eyes. Descendants of Areyn Sehduk and Fala.

Firedrake – Another word for dragon.

Firestar – Haellwarrior.

Firetree – Laddelwarrior.

Fireworms – Creatures that are the predecessors of the dragons. They look like snakes with wings, thin, spindly legs, and can breathe fire.

First-blood – anyone who is descended directly from a god, usually in reference to Elsonre’s heirs.

Foxfire – Haellwarrior.

Fyr– The fire of creation and destruction

Fyr-Dragons– creatures who exist within the Fyr

Fyrrin – Eltarwarrior.

Gareth – Eltarcaptain of Caer Llaen.

Geiolf – Foster brother of Shadowhelm

Haegl – Black Fyr-dragon who aided Lachlan in forging the three Swords of Destiny.

Haell—One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Like the Laddel, they are small and have golden and silver hair and silver or gold eyes. Descendants of the fire god, B’lander.

Haellsil – Half-brother and kinsman to Lachlan.

Hagalaz – The Sword of Disruption, Lachlan gave the blade to Allarun to wield.

Harbard– god and guardian of the Wyrd. Guardian of the Gateways

Heath-stalkers – The Heath-stalkers are the lesser and most plentiful demons. Called Heath-stalkers because before the Truce, they would travel the wilderness in search of victims. They feed off the blood and souls of the living.

Iamar – Second moon, also a goddess.

Issa– goddess of winter/ seasons

Jera– goddess of the spring/ harvests

Joreid – Chieftain of the Haell.

Kalena – Commander of the Chi’lan. Kinsman of Romarin Nevfaras.

Kel – Eltarsolder.

Kelar—Eltarwarrior.

Kelersil – Grandson of Laddel.

Kolfinna – foster mother of Shadowhelm

Kyr – Eltargeneral.

Lachlan– Name means “warlord” or “champion” depending on context. Can also be used with “the” to distinguish an incarnation. Lachlan was the Lochvaurhigh king who brought the Eleionclans together only to be killed in his final hour of victory by his best friend, Allarun.

Lachynvaur – see Lochynvaur.

Laddel– King of the Laddel, son of Ni’yah.

Laddel – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Noted for silver hair and gold eyes. Shorter and stockier than most, they are descendants of Ni’yah.

Ladren – Land of the Laddel.

Ladsil– son of Laddel

Laeca – Lesser gods and goddesses; not Athel’cen.

Life Leech – a kind of heath-stalker.

Lila– Witch and life leech. A demon.

Lochel – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Tall with golden hair or golden and silver mixed. Descendants of the goddess Iamar.

Lochvaren– Land of the Lochvaur

Lochvaren Mountains – mountains north of the Shadow Mountains.

Lochvaur- One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Noted for their red-gold hair and silver eyes, they are descendants of Rhyn’athel, the god of warriors.

Lochynvaur – father of Elina.

Mani – moon of ominous portents

Mic – Ansgarmercenary and friend to Shadowhelm.

Mindspeak – a form of telepathy that only first-bloods exhibit.

Never Summer Mountains – Mountains in the far north where the dragons live.

Nevfaras – Stepfather of Romarin Nevfaras.

Ni’yah– the wolf god, trickster, Athel’cen

Nim’he– goddess of the sea

Nine Kindreds – The Eleionsplit into nine clans or kindreds, named after the founder. They are Lochvaur, Lochel, Redel, Elesil, Silren, Laddel, Haell, Eltar, and Falarel.

Nine Worlds – In this universe, there are nine separate worlds, each connected to each other through the World Tree, which is the source of the Web of Wyrd. The Wyrd runs throughout the Nine Worlds. Originally, there had been just the Web of Wyrd, which created the gods. Rhyn’athel is credited with created the Nine Worlds and fixing them to both the World Tree and the Wyrd, although there had been previous worlds created by lesser gods and goddesses such as Harbard and Fala. Most of those worlds are only half-worlds, coexisting with the Nine. The main worlds in question are: Tarentor, Isa, Jotnar, Elren, and Athelren. The other three worlds of Rhyn’athel aren’t mentioned, but they’re considered lesser aspects of Athelren as Isa and Jotnar are considered lesser aspects of Tarentor. Of all the worlds, Jotnar is perhaps the most Elren-like place.

Northern Steppes – a wasteland between the Lochvaren Mountains and the Northern Sea.

Northmen – a large group of Ansgar and Shara’kaiwho live in clans in the north with no central government and only loose alliances and fealty to a king. Known for their ferocity in battle.

Quickstar – See Kelersil.

Redel – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Tall with golden hair and golden eyes. Descendants of Sowelu.

Rhyn’athel– god of warriors and creation, Athel’cen

Rolling Hills – Hills to the east of Caer Sithar.

Romarin Nevfaras – King of the Eleion, son of Rhyn’athel. Also called “The Red Wolf.”

Romarin of the Silver Hand – See Romarin Nevfaras.

Ronan – a Shara’kaiChi’lan captain.

Rooisbos – A red tea.

Sceaduhelm – Alternate spelling of Shadowhelm.

Sehduk– See Areyn Sehduk.

Sehduk’s Keep – Allarun’s fortress

Shadow Mountains – Mountains around Caer Sithar.

Shadowhelm – Lochvaur Shara’kai warrior and mercenary.

Shara’kai– half blood, usually a mix between Ansgarand Eleion

Si’lar – a type of throwing dagger.

Silren – One of the Nine Kindreds of Eleion. Tall with white hair and blue or silver eyes. Descendants of the goddess Elisila.

Silvain – King of the Silren. Killed in the Battle of Darkling Plain.

Sitharel – father of Nevfaras.

Soul-Eaters – Another name for Eltar.

Sowelu– god of the sun

Starflame – Haellwarrior.

Swords of Destiny – Three swords forged from adamantine and imbued with Lachlan’s own powers. Their names are Uruz, Hagalaz, and Eihwaz.

Tarentor– Land of the Dead – Areyn’s Realm

Taryn –Eltarcaptain and friend of Vaurgar.

Thalarmor– the kingdom of Allarun.

The World Tree – The structure or universe which holds the Wyrd, the Fyr, and the Nine Worlds together.

Thorolf – King of the Northmen.

Thurisaz – The fourth Sword of Power.

Tomah – First moon

Torr – Eltarcaptain under Vaurgar’s command.

Ulf – father of Einar.

Undead – creatures that died long ago, resurrected to fight battles for Allarun.

Urill – Eltarlieutenant under Vaurgar’s command.

Uruz – The most powerful of the three Swords of Destiny, it was Lachlan’s own sword. It was shattered in the Battle of Darkling Plain.

Vaurgar – son of Allarun

Wolfsong – Laddelwarrior.

Wyrd – A web that predates the gods that controls the past, present, and future.

Yerth – Eltarwarrior.

Yeth Hounds – Demon hounds of Areyn Sehduk.

BOOKS AVAILABLE BY M.H. BONHAM

Did you enjoy this book? If so, please consider purchasing other books by me.

Other Books by M. H. Bonham:

Runestone of Teiwas (Yard Dog Press)

Serpent Singer and Other Stories (Yard Dog Press)

Lachlei (Dragon Moon Press www.dragonmoonpress.com)

Howling Dead (Dragon Moon Press)

The King’s Champion (WolfSinger Publications www.wolfsingerpubs.com)

WolfSongs I (WolfSinger Publications)

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people are purely coincidental.

Contact Me Online

Twitter: http://twitter.com/MH_Bonham/

Facebook: http://facebook.com/skywarrior/

Blog: http://livejournal.com/shadowhelm/

Websites: http://www.shadowhelm.net

http://www.lachlei.com/

http://www.prophecyofswords.com/